#i drew it at like almost midnight the night it was asked so i fell asleep and then forgot to post it

[adeathlessgod]

Talking’s Overrated

featuring : Eren Yeager x fem!reader

content : MDNI, smut, Eren is whipped, he’s also a little shit, mean dom!eren if you squint, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, squirting, multiple orgasms, anal play, creampie, hair pulling, full nelson, friends with benefits to lovers sorta, reader is sort of a brat idk, Eren loves hair pulling, ddlg vibes if you use a magnifying glass, a little dumbification, reader has her ears pierced, Eren spits in reader’s mouth, slight degradation, DEFTONES MENTION!!!

word count : 5.7k

synopsis : After Eren ends your little fling, he asks to talk it out with you one late night. You find out he believes talking is overrated.

notes : Hi guys!!! I’m Angel, and this is my first ever fic and it took me weeks to work on, so notes, reblogs and constructive criticism are all welcomed! Hope you enjoy my loves<3

- Come outside

Your stomach flips as you read the notification on your screen, hesitantly swiping it away. It’s late on a Thursday night, it’s quiet. Your room is shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the blaring brightness of your phone screen. You continue to scroll through Instagram, giggling at Hitch’s close friends, when another message comes through.

- Let’s talk

Talking. You chew your cheek. When was the last time you two had spoken?

“Friend, huh? Is that what I am to you?” His hands caged your head against the bathroom wall. He leaned closer, dropping his head to meet your gaze, his breath minty and warm. “Is fucking each other what friends do?”

“It was a-“

“A mistake? Is that what you think of us?” Eren was dangerously close to you now, his lips ghosting across yours.

“I never said it was a mistake,” You chewed your lip nervously as you drew in a shaky breath, “Just a one time thing.”

“There’s no fucking difference, you either want this or you don’t. You know how I feel about this,” his breath fanned over your face, your eyes flutter closed, “About you,” he pauses.

“Don’t deny me, please, let me know I’m not alone in this,” he was almost pleading now, his voice soft and strangled.

You let your head fall back, gently knocking against the wall. “Eren, I-“, you looked at him, how the sharp contours of his jaw had been softened into slopes by the low, luminescent lighting. Your eyes trailed over him slowly, like he was a wonder of the world.

Striking, green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. A pointed Roman nose, above his plump, rosy lips and the set of shiny white teeth behind them. His smooth, olive skin, akin to sculpted sandstone. He was everything you could have asked for, everything you needed, and that was entirely too much to ask of him.

You shook your head at him, dropping his gaze ashamedly. The air in the room staled.

Eren scoffed, and his hands fell from their place on the wall. “Fine, you want to fuck Jean, go for it,” he runs a hand down his face frustratedly, “thanks for letting me know where I stand, and that this meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“Eren, that’s not-“

“Shut the fuck up, okay? You don’t get to have a say in this, you don’t get to fuck with my feelings and then tell me it’s okay. You don’t get to-“, he blows out a short breath, recollecting his thoughts. He starts again, slower, calmer, quieter, “You don’t get to break my heart and tell me that’s not what you meant, okay?”

He waits for a response, and you wait for him to shout again. You have a moment of silence, despite the muffled Deftones bleeding through the walls. Eren turns to leave, but his hand hesitates over the doorknob. Opening his mouth to speak, he casts you one more angry - no, pained - glance, and swallows.

“Do you regret this?”

You don’t respond.

The door slams behind Eren. You don’t follow him.

The door slams behind you as you step into the midnight chill, dressed in only a hoodie and shorts. The night air bites at your legs and you flex your hands at your sides routinely. The world outside is serene and caliginous - illuminated only by the spindly street lamps stationed on the sidewalk like nutcracker soldiers. Your heart sputters at the sight of Eren’s car, parked crookedly in your driveway - you can’t even see through his tinted windows. The low hum of his engine rattles his car gently, like a small, mobile refrigerator.

When you get to the passenger side, you swing the door open, slide into the plush leather seat, and close the door, all without sparing Eren a second glance. He is sitting in the driver’s seat, legs spread wide apart, in a black hoodie and grey sweats. He shifts his hips upwards as he readjusts his sitting position, his eyes never leaving your shivering figure.

He rakes over your oversized hoodie, your bare legs, your pretty, pretty face. He lingers on your face for a second too long, then he grins when he sees you press your thighs together.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” Eren hums in response as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. His rings glint in the muted glare of the moonlight.

“Want me to turn on the heating?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” You watch as he cranks the dial up to max, and the warm air almost instantaneously rushes out of the AC vents. You slump back into your seat, revelling in the warmth. A thin film of condensation falls onto the windows, mottling the midnight scenery outside - your very own Starry Night.

“So,” Eren begins cooly, “how have you been?”

His voice was oddly impartial and you knew better than to trust Eren’s nonchalance. You look at him side-long, attempting to uncover any unkind inflections. You’re met with a lazy smile and a glint in his eyes that stokes the warmth between your legs, warmer than any heater can make you.

“I’ve been good.” A small, charged beat passes. “You?”

“I’ve been good too,” he hums. He licks his lips cockily when he asks, “Have you missed me?”

You’re a delicate instrument, and Eren wants to know if he can still remember how to play you, how to tune you to his liking.

You surrender to his disarming smile.

You breathe in. “Yeah, I did.”

Eren huffs out a quiet laugh and lets his head fall against the window. “I’ve missed you too.”

You breathe out. “Really?”

He grins. “Of course, I have.” He slowly leans across the console, “What,” he murmurs softly, “You don’t believe me?”

You squirm in your seat, flustered by his unwavering gaze. His eyes are low, and swimming with mirth. He cradles your face in his hand and your eyes flutter shut when he drags his nose along your jaw.

Your breaths are shallower now. You’re supposed to be talking, talking about you, talking about your relationship, talking about anything but how much you yearned for each other the past weeks.

You tilt your head sideways, facing him, and tentatively press your forehead to his. He’s rendered you breathless within minutes. You are drowning in him - his sight, his scent, his touch - you can’t talk, let alone breathe, not when he’s taking up all the space in the car.

All notions of reconciliation are abandoned when he presses a fleeting kiss to the shell of your ear, and then whispers, “Do I have to prove it?”

You draw in a shuddering breath.

“Please.”

His lips press into yours, hot and wet, as you lace your hands into his hair. He tastes of peppermint and marijuana. His hand trails from your cheek to your throat, squeezing gently, coaxing a small moan from you. Skimming his thumb over your pulse, his tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it gently. Your hands tug at the hair interlocked between your fingers, and Eren releases a loud groan into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he mumbles against you. His hands slip under your thighs, and he gently manoeuvres you over the center console and into his lap. You shudder when you feel him beneath you, large and thick and impossibly hard. You roll your hips against the tent in his pants experimentally, and it pulls a moan from both of you.

He pulls away - his lips slick and swollen, still connected to yours by limp strings of saliva - to rasp, “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, you know that?”

There is nothing other than reverence in his eyes as he surveys you. Your chest is already heaving, you’re flushed from your neck to your ears, and your lips are a dark, kiss-bitten red. An angel. My angel, Eren thinks. You hum in response and dip your head to capture his lips again. His cock is already dribbling precum, staining his sweats a dark grey. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, before sinking your teeth into it. His dick twitches.

Eren pulls away, again, to mutter huskily, “You’re so mean, baby, what am I gonna do with you?” before sliding his lips along your jaw. His lips leave a blazing trail behind them, and his hands are just as hot.

His fingers slip under the hem of your hoodie, pressing small circles into your skin that make you writhe in his lap. His lips stretch into a smirk as he descends down the column of your throat, pausing every now and again to suck bruises into your skin. His hands tug at your hoodie, with a muttered, “Off.”

You scramble to take off your oversized sweater in the confines of Eren’s car, and in your flurry of movements, you elbow the horn behind you. You jolt at the sudden squawk, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you grounded. He chuckles lightheartedly.

“Easy, we don’t want your neighbours knowing we’re out here, right?” he teases you. Pouting, you discard your hoodie into the passenger seat and watch Eren’s jaw go slack at the sight of your bare chest.

“No bra?” Eren immediately takes your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth and your back arches, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

You keen as he rolls the other nipple in his fingers, content with how they pebbled due to the chill of the night. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and places sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between your breasts. His large, calloused hands fondle your breasts languidly, his cock twitching in his briefs. Moaning softly, you roll your hips against him, desperate for friction, and whimper out a needy, “Eren, please.”

He lazily grins up at you. He is so insufferable - “What do you need, baby?”

You attempt to roll your hips again, but Eren’s hands keep you stationary, “I need you.”

“Yeah? You want me to take these off for you?” He tugs at your skimpy shorts, and he chuckles when you nod enthusiastically, “Hips up, baby.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, and he sweeps off your underwear and shorts, so you’re sitting bare in his lap. He wolf-whistles at the sight of you, pressing a few kisses to your collarbone.

Your tits, full, warm and round, your waist, melded to Eren’s touch, your thighs, plush and soft, either side of Eren’s lap, your pussy, glistening in the light, dripping onto his sweats - you’re so undeniably sexy, even more so in the moonlight painting you silver.

He runs his hands up and down your waist, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. His lips are still swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are glazed with adoration. If you squint, you can see the hearts dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters. You’re Eren’s, his to hold, his to fuck, his to love. He doesn’t deserve you - he knows that much - but he is willing to ruin your friendship if it meant being able to see you like this again. His eyes widen when he sees you palm your breasts, spilling out of the gaps between your fingers. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and warmth courses between your legs.

“Stop it.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie by your voice. He clears his throat briefly. “Stop what?”

You wiggle on his lap, juggling your tits, smiling coyly, “Staring.”

He grins at you, brazen, “Never.”

His breath fans against your chest, hot, and his tongue slides across your sternum, hotter. He pulls you in for another kiss, a slower, softer one this time, and lets his hands roam around you freely. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other sliding down the plane of your stomach to where you need him most.

Your hips buck to meet him halfway. “Please, Eren-“

His fingers finally come into contact with your core, and you let out a strained whimper at his fleeting touch. He ghosts over your clit, chuckling at your displeasure. Just as you are about to whine again, he starts applying pressure to your swollen nub - just enough to make your head spin - as he clicks his tongue.

“Patience, baby. No more whining, you know I’ll give it to you good.“ He dips a finger between your folds, running it along your slit, before plunging it into you.

You gasp quietly as he begins thrusting it in and out of you. His fingers are long and thick, adorned with thick silver rings, nestled against that gummy spot that makes your knees weak. The stretch is delicious, something your fingers could never achieve. You can hear the squelch squelch squelch echo around the car before he even adds another finger. You’re mildly aware that you’re dripping down his wrist, but your mind is too foggy with pleasure to feel an inkling of shame. You’ve never been this wet for anyone before, and your heart hammers wildly in your chest.

“You hear that baby?” Eren teases you, “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” You whimper and bury your head into the crook of his neck. He slides in another finger, stretching you open, open, open. His rings graze your clit and you hum eagerly. You resort to bouncing on his hand, your gut beginning to tighten. Eren’s fingers still as he watches you. His voice is lowered to a husky drawl - “Go on, I want to see your cum on my fingers. Use me, baby.”

You begin to rock your hips faster, encouraged by his coos, the flames in your gut beginning to spread. Your gyrations become erratic and uneven. You pant into his ear wantonly, your breasts bouncing with your every move.

Gritting his teeth, Eren throws his head back. Moan by moan, you’re sending him closer to the edge. The hold you have on him is debilitating, and he’ll finish soon - untouched - if you don’t stop whining into his ear like a bitch in heat.

“Look at me,” Eren commands suddenly, tugging your hair. “I want to see you cum for me.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze, you grind your clit against the heel of his palm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs lock around his waist at this newfound degree of pleasure. Moans are tumbling out of you unrestrained now, your voice high, whiny and loud. You are on the brink of orgasm, painstakingly close, and as Eren tugs your hair again, you lose it.

Your vision blurs and your legs shake as the world stutters on its axis. You spasm and clench around Eren’s hand, dripping onto the seat below you. Pleasure washes over you in waves, each one less intense than the last. You fall into Eren’s chest, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

Eren looks at the mess you’ve made, chews his lip - letting out a low fuuuuck - before asking if, “You’re okay?”

You hum in response, barely registering Eren’s question. He flips you swiftly, and your back is now flush with his chest. His hoodie is warm and scratchy against your skin. Eren tugs your hair again, lighter this time, and you look at up him, eyes wide and glazed over.

Eren sucks in a breath as he stares at you, basking in your post-orgasm glow. Your skin shimmers in the dim light filtered through his windscreen, casting your face half in shadow. Your eyes are low and your chest heaves with your sharp and fast inhales. He brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb under your eye, the other cupping your sex.

“I could cum just looking at you,” he murmurs.

You lean into his embrace, whispering, “I can cum just thinking about you.”

A hoarse groan spills from his throat, and a hard slap is landed to your clit. Your whole body lurches as you mewl loudly.

“Is that right?” he chuckled breathlessly, “Do you think about me when you touch this dirty little pussy of yours at night?” You nod avidly, and he rewards you with a few harsh circles to your clit.

“Show me,” he said, leaning forward to watch his fingers play with your pussy, “Show me how hard you cum when you think about me.” He hoists you up so he can shove his sweats halfway down his thighs - no underwear? God, he’s such a slut - and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, bobbing between your legs.

It was long, and girthy, the head flushed to an angry red. Precum dribbled steadily from the tip, trickling down his shaft in translucent streams. A bulging vein runs down the underside of his cock, straight to where his balls sit, heavy and warm. Gripping his cock at the base, he smacks the bulbous head again your clit twice. Your legs spasm either side of him and he smirks before spitting, a fat glob of saliva landing onto your puffy clit.

He taps your clit again, gentler, encouraging, as he urges you, “Touch yourself, baby. I won’t ask again.” The shift in his tone is evident as his eyes darken, forest green now a deep viridian. You bite your bottoms lip as you slide a hand down your body, the other idly kneading your left breast.

Your fingers draw lazy circles around your entrance before dipping a finger between your folds. You sigh breathily, allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and Eren begins pumping himself slowly. You slip a finger into yourself, before bringing it back up to your lips. Eren watches keenly as you suck your essence off your fingers, then dip them back between your legs. You purr as you thrust two fingers into yourself, massaging that gummy spot that makes you dizzy. You begin to go faster, synchronous to the pumps of Eren’s hands.

His grunts are low and heavy in your ears, goading you to, “Go faster, I want to see you cum all over your fingers like the slut you are.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, your fingers now hammering into your little hole, coaxing little spurts of arousal out of you with every pump. Eren uses your cum as a lubricant, slicking his shaft as he fists his cock aggressively. His dick nearly glitters in the moonlight, lathered in a milky sheen of your arousal. He snakes his vacant hand up your body, briefly squeezing your throat, your pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and he takes the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth. He watches saliva pool in your mouth, before spitting in it. You hum delightedly, your face so vacant with pleasure it makes Eren curse. As Eren pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spit dribbles down your chin and into the concaves of your collarbone.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you?” he coos. You blink slowly, and then nod blankly. “Bet you don’t even know what I said, huh? So cockdrunk already,” he tuts at you lovingly as he brings his free hand to your second entrance.

When he circles your puckered hole, you gasp quietly. He shushes you tenderly, and he feels you give way beneath his finger tips.

“Good girl, gonna let me have all of you, right?” you agree mindlessly, dazed in the pursuit of your orgasm. He chuckles at you, how dumb you are for him, before slipping a finger into you, knuckle deep. Your body contorts and you let out a sharp cry. Eren grips the base of his cock to prevent the orgasm threatening to crest at the sound of your cries.

Even with one finger down there, you feel so full, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You slam your free hand on the steamy window, plastering a hand-shaped spyhole onto it. Your fingers speed up and you begin to pant when you sense your core begin to twist.

“Eren- I’m so close, fuck,” Eren slides a second finger into your ass and you let out a loud, debauched, filthy moan. You lick your lips longingly, watching beads of precum drip over Eren’s hands as he smears it over his shaft.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eren grunts against your neck, “Gonna make me cum.”

Knowing Eren was here, with you, being driven to the edge by your wanton cries and unabashed pleasure, sends you toppling headfirst into your second orgasm of the night.

Your back arches wildly and you wail out Eren’s name as you shake and convulse. You twitch violently around Eren’s fingers, simultaneously gushing onto yours. Your wrist is dripping with your arousal, as is Eren’s entire cock. As you thrash on his lap, he slowly retracts his fingers from your ass.

He slides his lips along your jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat beaded along your face, before tilting your head with a large hand and kissing you. You suck on his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it softly, just how he likes it.

With a throaty moan, Eren follows you and hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out from his cock. They drape over your thighs, the steering wheel and your stomach like silvery garlands of pearls. He lets out a small grunt as the last spurts fall limply onto his hand.

You whine breathily as he rubs his cock through your folds. He gently rolls his hips upwards, and his balls hit your round ass with a small plap. He pulls away from your heated kiss, and you chase his lips desperately - you’re pathetic.

The head of his massive cock aligns with your belly button and Eren, gripping his shaft by the base, taps his tip against your navel, admiring the thin strings of precum that linger.

His voice drips with sadistic enthusiasm when he drawls, “I’m gonna be in your stomach, baby. Can you take it?”

“Eren, please, I need you.” You roll your hips against the hard length of his member.

He chuckles at your wanton desperation. “You want it, baby?” You nod fervently. “How bad?”

“So, so, so bad, please fuck me, Eren.” Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your eyes lock onto his with blind adoration. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, and then your forehead.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He presses his cock against your entrance, slowly, slowly, slowly pushing past that tight ring of muscle. You sigh dreamily as Eren nibbles on your earlobe, occasionally tugging at your piercings.

He pauses briefly when he bottoms out. You squirm in his arms before he scolds you, slapping your inner thigh harshly. The eerie silence of the world around you fades into your ears ringing when he slowly - agonisingly - begins thrusting. His cock drags along your walls perfectly with every precise roll of his hips. His groans echo around the car. The joint sounds of your ecstasy nearly drown out the lewd squelches between your legs.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Eren hammers your g-spot. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your release begin to crest. Eren’s breath is hot against your neck and his muttered praises cloud your brain.

One of your hands travels up to entangle itself in Eren’s hair. He turns and plants a wet kiss on your palm. His thrusts become more rapid and shallow as you clench around him. You feel the car rock in time with his thrusts and you sigh happily.

You want your neighbours to know you’re getting fucked senseless. You want the world to know how good you’re getting it right now. Though now, your world has you spread on his lap like a fuckdoll and is pounding you like an animal.

You hiccup as Eren sinks his teeth into your palm. “You okay, pretty girl? Been quiet for a while.” When you nod, he presses his wet lips to your cheek, plastering his smile on you. He slides a hand down to your clit and begins rubbing it in small, quick circles. “No worries, I’ll have you screamin’ my name in no time. Gonna turn you into my little rag-doll.”

Your back arches as his thrusts also pick up speed. Every thrust has your legs trembling and voice cracking.

“Eren- fuck, it’s so good,” you babble in your gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Yeah?” His smirk is hot against your neck. He whispers, “How good?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts impossibly faster. Your hands dig into his biceps and when you feel blood bead at the skin, he hisses in pleasure.

“So good, no one does it like you, Eren.”

He throws his head back with a hearty groan. God, you don’t know what you do to him. Every time he thinks you’ve lured him in deep enough, he finds himself diving into you again, until he’s drowning in your wet, warm depths.

Your eyes meet his again. Your lashes flutter and Eren presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead after brushing away the hair plastered to it.

“Oh, yeah? It’s that good?” You nod lazily, your body jolting with the force of his thrusts. He takes one of your tits in his palm and squeezes hard. He lowers his mouth to yours, and you wet your lips in anticipation. “You gotta cum all over me then.”

You do. Ecstasy dances down your spine as you cry out his name. You squeeze your eyes shut as your clamp down on Eren’s cock. White flashes behind your eyelids like fireworks. You moan his name again and again and again and he tells you he knows, he knows, he knows. Your arousal drips down his shaft, leaving a glistening trail past his balls and onto the padded leather beneath you both.

“Good girl,” he coos. He brings the fingers circling your clit up to your lips, and you dart your tongue out to taste yourself.

His pace never relents, not even when you’re sobbing wildly. The aftershocks of your previous orgasm fade, and you’re already teetering on the edge of another. You wring your hands in the sweat-sodden material of his hoodie. You sob, “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Already?” he tuts and laughs, his voice husky and low. He hums in approval before pinching your nipple tightly. The pain elicits a sweet, little cry from you. His voice is strangled when he asks, “Tell me what you need.”

“More, I need more, I need it harder,” you whine into his neck. You nuzzle into his collarbone, deeply inhaling his warm, vanilla cologne.

“You want harder? I’ll give you harder, you little slut,” he grunts as he hooks his arms under your knees, pinning them to your chest. The change in position angles his cock so deep into you, you can feel him in your throat. When you feel the head of his cock ram into your cervix, you shriek - half pain, half pleasure - and Eren swallows your cries with a wet and sloppy kiss, much like the mess between your legs.

Incoherent moans tumble from your mouth, your eyes find sanctuary in the back of your head and your wetness floods the seat below you. The sharp pain makes you gasp, makes your toes curl. The pads of Eren’s fingers are warm against your knees and his breath is searing against your neck. He continues to split you open on his cock, intent on ruining you on his lap.

He lifts his head to observe you, to admire your undoing. Your skin is sweaty and flushed, your lashes beaded with tears, your lips swollen and bitten. You’re a sight for sore eyes, a glimpse of heaven in his arms. Your eyes snap to his and you whimper in shame, mustering up the scraps of dignity you had remaining, shying away from the ferocity in his eyes.

Eren chuckles dryly at you. He calls your name. Once. Twice. You shake your head and bury it into your chest.

“Oh, no, no, no.” His hands come to rest on the back of your head, arms still hooked under your knees, and he roughly yanks your head back to look at him.

You gasp, “Eren-“

“Look at me.” Your eyes lock onto his. “Look at this.” He tilts your head down, maintaining his ruthless pace, “Look at you, baby, getting so wet for me.”

You laugh and sob, surveying the mess you’ve created. Your arousal is spread between your thighs - thick, slimy strings connecting your thighs to Eren’s. Your lips are stretched around his width, suctioning him into you with a lewd squelch. It’s so wet and sloppy and messy and it’s so, so perfect.

“Feels so- so, so good, baby, fuck,” you babble this out to Eren and he belts out his handsome, disarming laugh.

“Yeah? Bet it does.” You melt even further into his touch when he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

Watching yourself get split open by Eren sends you hurtling towards your release, so you breathe out a quiet, “Cumming.”

Eren chuckles, drops his lips to your ear, and murmurs, “Are you asking or telling me?”

You shake your head weakly. “Don’t make me beg.”

He chuckles quietly, deciding to take mercy on you. Eren sinks his teeth into your earlobe before he gives you a deep, hard thrust, and then commands you to, “Cum.”

Your legs go limp as the world stutters on its axis. The pleasure is mind-numbingly intense and white-hot bursts of relief wrack your body rhythmically. Your mouth gapes in a silent scream as Eren slams himself into your cervix again and again. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and your head kills back onto his shoulder, too weak to watch yourself cum around him.

Your arousal, clear and copious, sprays everywhere in his car : his seat, the steering wheel, the windscreen, even your body. Eren moans at the sight of you squirting all over his car, you marking your territory. You shudder helplessly in his grasp, succumbing to the heat dousing your limbs. If not for Eren’s tight grip on you, you would have collapsed.

He keeps going, keeps thrusting, desperate to join you in the pleasure of orgasm. His thrusts become sloppier, but no less deep. You mewl with every pump of his hips against yours, overly sensitive and stimulated.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, strained and shaky, in your ear.

You moan at the thought of his hot, thick cum filling you up. “Inside, Eren, please, please, please-“

He cuts you off with a pained groan, “Fuck, you know I can’t do that.”

“Please, Eren, please,” you plead with him, your eyes wide and glassy, “Don’t I deserve it?”

His eyes snap shut and he lets out a shaky, ragged breath. “Shit, you’re making this really hard for me.” His hips pummel you faster, shallower, irregular, as if he’s losing his restraint.

Fuck it, he’s come this far, and he can’t say no to you. “You want it, baby? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I need it Eren, please give it to me,” you whimper desperately.

“Fuck,” he whines as he thrusts into you a final time, unloading himself into you. Sighing happily, you press a kiss to his cheek as you feel the warm spurts of cum paint your insides. He only pulls out when he stops pulsing inside you, wincing slightly.

Eren slumps against your shoulder, his chest rattling with every breath. Your hands tangle into his thick, chestnut hair. He grunts in approval. Quick, fleeting kisses are pressed to your shoulders and you shudder. Your movement reminds you of the mess between your legs, and you suddenly feel filthy.

“Eren,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Eren’s response is muffled by your neck. “Yes, baby?”

You sniffle. “I’m messy,” Eren jerks up, seemingly rejuvenated after remembering the importance of aftercare.

“Shit, sorry, I’ll clean you up now,” he reaches for your hoodie and starts wiping at your inner thighs. He grins up at you over your shoulder - “You really made a mess huh?”

You shuffle awkwardly in his lap. You had squirted on his skylight, a mess was an understatement.

The corners of his lips pull upwards into a smirk, “Don’t worry about it, ‘m getting my car detailed anyway.” Humming when he’s deemed you clean, he rotates you so you’re eye to eye. His eyes twinkle with undulating lust as he wipes away your tears. “You good?”

You nod meekly, nuzzling his calloused palm.

He pinches your thigh. “Don’t get all shy on me now, you were being real loud earlier.” He tosses the hoodie into the backseat before placing kisses to both of your breasts. His brows pinch at the slightly pensive expression plastered on your face.

He tugs your hair lightly. “Do you want me to get you a Plan B? We can-“

“We were supposed to be talking, Eren,” you wring his hoodie in your hands.

A cocky grin spread across Eren’s face. “Oh, she was definitely talking to me,” he moves to cup your sex, but you swat his hand away. His smile drops at the deflated look in your face.

Sighing, you ask, “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

He frowns, brushing your hair out of your face. “I thought we were gonna forget about it? One time thing, you know?”

You sigh softly and slip your hands under the hem of his hoodie. As you run your hands along the ridges of Eren’s abdomen, his cock bobs.

“We can’t keep using that as an excuse to-“

“Do you regret it?”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to meet his gaze and his eyes are glinting mischievously.

Squeezing your face between his fingers, Eren pulls your face towards his. His tongue slides along your bottom lip before he reclines. “Do you regret this? Us?”

You swallow.

You don’t respond.

But this time, Eren knows better.

He captures you in a slow, sloppy kiss. His lips meld to yours as he murmurs, “I don’t think we have to talk about anything then.” He sucks your bottom lip slowly, letting it swell in his mouth, before smirking impishly as he rasps, “Talking’s overrated.”

#eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader smut #this is my baby #pls be nice #very new to this so idk what happens next #i need him #angel’s fics

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

scream queen !! . . . gojo x reader

one fall, geto and gojo team up to prank shoko and y/n for halloween. basically halloween inspired fluff!

fluff, gojo x reader, set during gojo's past arc, reader is a 2nd year student

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

OCTOBER, 2006

As the day drew to a close, the Jujutsu High gymnasium was abuzz with conversation.

"C'mon 'Ko, how can you not like halloween?" Gojo persisted, "Slasher movies and candy and staying up past midnight?"

Shoko scoffed. "You already stay up way too late, idiot." Geto chuckled softly at their antics.

You poked the girl next to you and she almost dropped her cigarette from between her teeth. "Are you at least going to dress up with me this year?" You asked.

Shoko rolled her eyes. "Not a chance."

Geto leaned in, joining the conversation. "Why do you hate Halloween so much?"

Shoko sighed, stretching her arms out above her nonchalantely. "I don't know, I just never really enjoyed it, y'know? Like, we see enough scary stuff every day, right?"

You collectively nodded at her words. There was no denying that she was right; your lives were plenty scary on a daily basis.

Just then, the bell rang, signalling it was time for your next class session to begin. You all gathered your things and headed to the main building, dropping the conversation.

The rest of the day went on as expected, after finishing your lessons and training for a few hours you all retreated around the campus. You and Shoko lounged in the common room with Nanami and Haibara. Gojo and Getou, however, were no where to be found.

"Do you think we should go look for them?" Haibara questioned. It had been almost two hours since you'd last seen them at dinner and it was starting to get dark.

"No, if they need us they'll call," Nanami answered quickly.

You intervened, "I'm sure they're fine, wherever they are. Probably off causing trouble somewhere."

"Yeah, they're fine. So, what are we watching?" said Shoko.

You collectively decided on Corpse Bride, a halloween classic but nothing too scary for late on a Tuesday night. You always found you were most happy in these quiet moments, curled up on the couch of the common room surrounded by your friends and not having to worry about techinques or curses or surviving.

That all went away, however, when thirty minutes into the movie, you began to hear strange sounds. It started out as a scraping sound on the floor, almost as if someone was dragging metal across the ground. Then you heard a faint laughing sound. You turned to Shoko who was beside you and a giggle from her confirmed she heard it too. You assumed Geto and Gojo had scuffled in from a night of mischief and were making their way to bed. You shook your head, smiling to yourself. Although you'd never admit it, you enjoyed spending your free time with them, chaotic as they may be.

Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You glance at Shoko, who's dead asleep next to you, and then Nanami, who's resorted to reading a book that's settled in his lap.

You turn to see the looming figure of a masked man holding a chainsaw-- and let out a blood curdling scream.

Shoko jumped from her place on the couch, landing ten feet away; Haibara fell backwards off the edge of the couch; even Nanami leaned away and grimaced.

Startled, you tried to compose yourself, but it was hard to do so in the dark room with adrenaline coursing though your veins.

As you were coming to your senses, the lights flicker on and you see two people in front of you: Gojo, with a Jason mask resting around his neck, and Geto, holding a camcorder which was currently pointed at Haibara, who was still on the ground. Both of them were laughing their asses off, barely being able to breathe.

You hear a groan from Shoko behind you, "Ohhhhh, what the hell?" A "Come on, guys" is heard from Nanami, but you're still too in shock to respond.

Finally recovering from their hysterics, the boys gathered beside each other to review their footage. You hear the faint sound of your own scream and Shoko's yelp being played back on the tiny camera screen.

"You-- y-you should've seen your face!" Gojo says between breaths.

Standing up, you rubbed your face, trying to recover from the trauma you'd just gone through. Gojo notices the look on your face and pulls you in for a hug which you reluctantly accept since you needed the comfort.

Plus, getting a hug from Satoru wasn't that bad either.

"Aww, I'm sorry Y/n," Gojo said, gently stroking your back, "I could make it up to you with a kiss later?"

This caused you to shove his shoulder playfully, feigning digust. "Seriously? Gross."

You were interupted by Geto, "After that stunt, I don't think Shoko will ever like Halloween again."

You laughed, and Gojo behind you chimed in, "It was sooooo worth it though! We're gonna have this footage for life!"

The four of you settled on the couch, waving Nanami and Haibara goodnight when they decided they were tired (more like tired of this bs).

Everyone ended up falling asleep on the couch, so when the movie ended, Gojo shook Geto and Shoko awake, shushing them when they moved to wake you. Geto gave Gojo a wink and Shoko glared warning daggers at him as they made their ways to their own rooms.

Ever so gently, Gojo picked you up in his arms bridal-style and carried you to your bedroom, laying you in your bed.

As you were being tucked in, you stirred, blinking yourself awake.

"Satoru?" you questioned in your half-awake state, "Did the movie end...?"

He smiled to himself, pulling the sheets up to your chin. "Yeah, time to go to bed. Goodnight."

"Okay. Goodnight, Satoru."

Oh, and you did end up getting that kiss.

---

NOVEMBER, 2017

The fight had been going on for days at this poin. Everyone was on their toes, anxious and wondering what to do in the midst of all the chaos. It left you and Shoko in a strange position:

Gojo was gone. Getou's body was taken over long ago. Shoko had gotten word that Nanami was gone, too.

You had left the fight to go to you and Gojo's-- no, your apartment in Shibuya to gather supplies: bandages for the injured, water, food.

As you turned the key to unlock your home, you forced yourself to stare at the ground. You couldn't risk glancing at a picture frame and seeing the smiling face of your husband staring back at you.

You gathered the few things you came for and threw them into a bag, shuffling around the kitchen. You made your way into the living room, thinking you might grab some blankets to comfort the injured. As you were walking, you stumbled into a cardboard box, kicking it across the room on accident.

A stack of discs spilled onto the ground. You remembered, then, that Satoru had brought them out to show his students some footage of curses to study various cursed techniques. Of course, he had never gotten to show them.

Thinking nothing of it, you knelt down to pick them up. They were all pretty standard, marked with dates or the names of curses. One in particular, however, caught your attention.

You read your lover's handwriting, scribbled in black sharpie:

Scream Queen!!! '06 >;)

#gojo jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #shoko ieiri #Suguru Geto #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo's past arc #jjk season 2 #jjk gojo #jjk #Satoru Gojo x reader

[saphiraprince22]

His First Love

Author Talks: Thank you so much for the ask I hope this is what you were looking for.

Warnings: A little bit of angst in the form of maternal jealousy and dad Azriel ;) Lots of love Saph ❤❤

Its been 2 years since you gave birth to your beautiful daughter, who is the prefect mix of both you and Azriel. She had his wings and his dark hair while she inherited your eyes. And you love her but sometimes you just couldn't help but feel jealous of her.

She had Azriel, your mate, wrapped around her little fingers the moment she came into the world. You remember all the nights she had spent crying only to calm down when Azriel held her. You tried very hard to not be disheartened by this and sometimes would cry to yourself when it became too much.

And Azriel the sweetheart that he is always assured you that she loved you just as much and made sure that he spent time with both of you and also tried to include you in their games and as she grew older you realized that it became easier.

But lately things had difficult as missions and work burdened Azriel, due to which he spent less and less time with both of you making your little angel cranky and irritated.

It was so hard that somedays you only saw a glimpse of your mate and that too with your daughter before your eyes became too heavy to keep them open only to wake in the bed in the morning without your mates warm presence and a note apologizing for not being there and yet another false promise of coming home early.

You knew you couldn't blame him, his job was just as important as it was spending time with you guys, but you just wished you could at least see him in the morning before he left for his meetings.

Today had been the last straw as your daughter refused to listen to you no matter what you promised her. It had been nearly midnight before she fell asleep, with an half empty stomach and you knew that she would wake up in sometime as she would be hungry.

You were sitting on the sofa exhausted beyond means when you heard someone winnow to your door step and smiled knowingly, waiting for Azriel to swoop in make it all ok.

Just like you expected in came Azriel with a smile that made him look even more handsome than usual. He was in his leathers and was probably exhausted but that didn't matter as he was always loved to spend time with his family.

The smile on his face grew when he saw you and you were pretty sure that your face mirrored it.

He held you in his arms as you kissed him as you would never see each other again. You rested your forehead on his as you two panted softly, he was going to say something before it was interrupted by a shrill cry of your daughter and before you could even blink Azriel had left you to run to his daughter.

You heaved a sign as you took your little angels food from the kitchen and treaded upstairs to your daughters room to see Azriel try to calm your daughter as she cried her lungs out.

You told Azriel to hold her as you tried to feed her but she wasn't having it as she yelled out and Azriel quickly took the bowl out of your hand a fed your daughter as she silently ate as if she just hadn't thrown a tantrum.

You knew you were being an idiot but you couldn't help but feel hurt. It felt as though you didn't mean as much as Azriel to your daughter and you believed that you didn't mean much to Azriel as well, this thought drew tears to your eyes as you silently left the father daughter duo who were too busy to even notice your absence.

Your locked yourself in your shared bathroom as you cried quietly to make sure you didn't disturb them.

Unbeknownst to you Azriel did notice your absence but couldn't say anything as his daughter was almost asleep and he didn't want to wake her up again.

He set her on her bed and left the room quietly only for his shadows to report to him that you were crying and as much as you tried to shield your emotions by blocking your bond but he still felt it.

He quickly moved to your shared room and knocked on the bathroom door, "Love can I please come in?"

"In a minute" he heard you mumble and a moment later he heard the tap running. You stepped out and pretended to be ok but he knew you.

"Love, I am so sorry-" "There is no need to be sorry Az" you interrupted him.

You tried to move towards the bed but he held your shoulder so that you wouldn't move away without talking to him about what happened.

"I need you tell me what's wrong my love." Azriel whispered in your ears. "Like I said there is nothing wrong" "You wouldn't have left the room if you were alright."

You huffed a breath and embraced yourself as you refused to meet his eyes and mumbled, "It's just that after her birth, you don't spend time with as you used too, and that she seems to love you more than she loves me and that just reminded me how less time you spend with me these days and that maybe you don't love me anymore."

You would have most probably rambled ahead if you hadn't noticed Azriel trying to hide a smile.

"Are you laughing at me Azriel?" You questioned indignantly, "I am not laughing at you my dearest, but something tells me that my mate is jealous."

You sputtered at that, "I am not jealous of my own daughter, Azriel, it's just that I wish you would spend more time with me too."

Azriel eyes softened as held your chin up so that you could see the honesty in his eyes.

" I am so sorry my love for not being able to spend as much time as I want to with you, it's been busy at the court, but tell you what, how about we go out just the two of us and we will let Rhysand and Feyre baby sit our little angle."

"Just the two of us, like we used to" "Yes my love just like old times."

Your face brightened at that and quickly kissed him. "And let me tell you, Our daughter loved you too, She told me not to tell you this but she is preparing a small girt for your birthday."

"Really" you were so touched by your little ones thought and scolded yourself for feeling jealous.

"Azriel I am so sorry, I just thought that-"

"Now don't complete that, remember that you are my first love and that I am so thankful to you for giving me another angel in my life."

"I love you Azriel" You mumbled as he kissed you, and lifted you to bed as you giggled in his arms.

And he spent the rest of the night whispering just how much he loved you the whole night.

Taglist:

@aroseinvelaris

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel fluff #dad!azriel #acotar fic #asks are always appreciated #thank you

[swamp-chicken]

for the writing prompts, sneaking out to see the stars + ethdubs? also j really like your writing style! :D

make a wish, 1,037 words

bdubs had thought it was all settled after ren stepped down. but really, nothing had been settled. there were still royal emeralds in the shops, inventories overflowing with pie, hermits asking for their diamonds back. they now had twenty useless diamond towers instead of four, and a giant statue of ren overseeing spawn. and--here was the kicker, the real rub, the universe spitting in bdubs' eye--they still needed to build roads!

so the hermits, in true hermit fashion, had called a meeting. and, in even truer hermit fashion, the meeting was stretching deep into the night, issues being endlessly hemmed and hawed over, cleo and jevin feuding, impulse diligently scratching out his notes, and no. roads. being. built.

bdubs balanced on the back two legs of his chair and kept his mouth shut. he had made ren king, that had been his solution. but noooo, the ungrateful public hadn't wanted that. oh no, we don't want fun quests and maybe a little bit of corruption and lots of beautiful roads! we want meetings!

bdubs rolled his eyes. he should be sleeping, but every time he tried to sneak out of the meeting tango shot him a venemous look. it was clear that as long as they were all stuck here, bdubs was stuck here too.

and then there was etho, sitting across the table from bdubs, so still that bdubs knew he had to be sleeping. bdubs pulled a few faces, just to check. there was no response from etho, but, down the table, scar stifled a laugh.

experiment inconclusive, bdubs folded a piece of paper into a neat little origami triangle. he took aim and flicked it full power. it flew across the table and nailed etho straight in the forehead. scar gave a bark of laughter which he smothered into a cough. etho startled awake with a snort, and, after glancing up and down the table, narrowed in on bdubs as the culprit. maybe it was because bdubs was covering his mouth, shaking in silent laughter.

etho jabbed his index finger towards bdubs, then drew his thumb across his neck. the message was clear. "you, dead." bdubs pointed to himself, a picture of innocence. "who, me?"

at the end of the table, false and xisuma were droning on about currency exhanges, apparently uninterrupted by the scuffle at bdubs' end.

bdubs shot his hand into the air.

"you don't have to raise your hand, you know," impulse noted. false and xisuma broke off their conversation and peered down the table.

"permission to speak?" bdubs requested.

"you don't really need permission to speak either--"

"I would like to request a fifteen minute recess! I need to walk around, my back is killing me."

"okay, old man," pearl snorted.

"objection!" bdubs shouted. "I am not old."

impulse sighed. "yeah, let's take a break. but you all better be back in fifteen minutes exactly! we still need to decide what to do with the diamond towers."

the table groaned.

bdubs all but leapt out of his chair. he hadn't been kidding, his back really was killing him. he joined the crowd of hermits as they shuffled out of the meeting room.

etho fell in to step behind him.

"follow me," etho said. "I want to show you something."

bdubs glanced over his shoulder at etho. "what, your fist in my face? I know how this goes, buddy boy."

etho huffed. "it's nice, I promise."

"your mouth in my face?"

etho made a strangled noise and grabbed bdubs' hand, tugging him out of the current of the crowd.

bdubs smiled and laced his fingers with etho's, happy to be led along for a little tête-à-tête with his beloved.

etho pushed open the door, the cold night breeze enveloping them as etho brought him outside. it was almost midnight, the moon high in the sky. bdubs shivered and leaned closer to etho for warmth. "what did you want to show me, cutie pie? a good time?"

"no," etho laughed, "the stars! you never get to see them, sleeping all the time." he was flustered for some reason, which was stupidly cute.

"ah, yes," bdubs intoned, facing the sky. "the stars." he was pretty sure he had looked at the stars before. he may have even been to some.

"there's an asteroid shower I've been keeping an eye on." etho said, pointing into the heavens. "that way, to the south." bdubs tucked himself against etho's front and lifted up on to his toes, trying to align his gaze with etho's arm.

"there, do you see?" etho asked, voice low. his breath tickled bdubs' ear.

bdubs squirmed, trying to ignore the heat ignited in his stomach. he squinted into the sky. sure, there were sure a lot of stars, but they weren't exactly moving... except--"wait!" bdubs gasped. "I saw a shooting star!"

"you gotta make a wish," etho prompted, lowering his arm and wrapping it around bdubs' waist, pulling bdubs flush against him. "that's one server, gone forever."

"oh," bdubs sighed, feeling a little wistful, remembering all the worlds he had left behind, worlds that he would never see again. there had been nether hubs and arenas, airplanes and death games, friends and enemies, castles and crastles-- and through it all, etho.

"I made my wish," bdubs said.

"that was fast," etho chuckled. "was it a good one?"

"pretty good, I think." bdubs turned in etho's arms and kissed his nose through the mask, watched his whole face crinkle into a smile. "and it's mostly come true, anyways."

etho hummed, eyes warm. "long meetings make you sappy."

"and you sleepy."

"are you trying to fight?"

bdubs leaned his cheek against etho's chest, smiling. "no, I'm not."

they stood quietly for a moment, etho smoothing his hand over bdubs' back. bdubs cleared his throat. "and, for the record, you're the sap. taking me stargazing, come on."

etho jabbed him in the side and bdubs pulled back, giggling.

impulse's voice rang out through the night. "hey! where is everyone? recess over."

bdubs pulled back, grimacing. etho's expression mirrored his. "well, back we go."

bdubs slid his hand into etho's and swung their joined hands between them. "I just want roads," he whined.

"I don't want anything!" etho countered.

"you poor innocent guy, getting swept up in all our nonsense. oh wait, you killed me at the king's vault."

etho snickered and tugged bdubs towards him, pressing a kiss to his hair.

they walked back inside and the door shut softly behind them.

#this is all part of my master plan to get laurie to post more angst #ethubs #my fic #hermitshipping #this is fluff fluff fluff can't get enough

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Plastic Hearts

Chapter Four: Hate Me

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!oc (violet)

chapter rating: E (no explicit smut, just tiddies out and penis talk, mentions of insecurity, body image issues, substance use, arguments, angsty ending bc these two are sad bbs)

word count: 4.7k

series masterlist

“Good Morning America, we are back from commercial break with the absolutely stunning Violet Apollo.” The all-too cherry news anchor smiled widely at Violet as she sat across from her and her co-anchor. “How are you doing this morning, Violet? I know you must’ve had a wild night last night after your partner hosted Saturday Night Live.”

“Wasn’t too wild, thankfully. I was back in my bed before midnight, so I’m feeling pretty okay today. I downed a few shots of espresso and now I couldn’t close my eyes if I wanted to.” Violet joked, intentionally leaving out the part where she was woken up in the middle of the night to her “boyfriend” getting sucked off by a model right in front of her.

“Look at you being responsible,” the man playfully teased and she faked a laugh at that. “How about Dieter? He had a lot to celebrate, I bet he’s feeling it today.”

“Uh, yeah. He’s still asleep back at the hotel.” Violet tried not to sound bitter, but she knew that a crack was beginning to form in the carefully crafted mask she’d been wearing her entire career—and all from one little heartbreak. “He was so good on SNL last night, can we give him a moment? So good.”

“He was! I didn’t know he was that funny, he’s always so serious.”

“Yeah, is he always that funny around you? Is that one of the things that drew you to him?” The female anchor asked with a head tilt, Violet feeling the urge to scream building inside of her with every mention of Dieter. But this was a part of the job and she was gonna fucking do it.

“He does alright,” she chuckled and shrugged. “I’m definitely more of the comedian, I’d say. But truthfully, we’re both just talkers. I think that’s what makes us so good together. We love talking to each other.”

“You know what they say, communication is key.” The man chimed in with a winning smile before looking down at his notes. “Alright, enough about boys—” Cringe. “Let’s talk your new film.”

“Yes, let’s.” Violet nodded and gave them both a more genuine smile, glad to be off the subject of Dieter for a bit.

“Violet stars in Steven Spielberg’s new epic based on the ancient Greek love story of Persephone and Hades, titled: Pomegranate. Violet, you play Persephone in the film alongside Thomas Doherty as Hades. What was it like embodying a character like that?”

“I’ve always loved Persephone and have found the many iterations of their love story captivating long before I ever took on this role, but stepping into her shoes a bit, it sort of just felt like I was playing myself in a way.” Violet shrugged and smiled bashfully. “She’s sort of this tragic yet fierce character that I think a lot of the time is sort of underestimated and misunderstood and seen as someone almost needing to be saved from this underworld, but, at least in the film and in my own idea of her, it couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s an incredibly strong and fierce woman and I think the audience is going to love seeing that portrayed on screen, or at least I hope they do.”

“How was it working with Thomas? I saw him in The Invitation and fell head over heels in love with him,” the woman confessed, earning a chuckle from Violet.

“He’s so sweet and kind, and very good looking, obviously. He was just the absolute best scene partner, and neither of us have worked with someone as big as Spielberg before, so it was nice to sort of go through that experience together.”

“Well, we can’t wait to see it. Thank you for stopping by, Violet, we loved having you here this morning.” Violet nodded and gave them her best smiles, mumbling a shy ‘thank you’. “When we come back—is it possible your dog sees you as it’s parent? A new study shows it’s more likely than you might think. More when we return.”

“Alright, thank you both so much for having me.” Violet shook both of the news anchors hands before being rushed off backstage by her manager, Maria. “Did you get breakfast?”

“Yeah, it’s waiting in your dressing room.”

“I meant for yourself! You’ve been running around all morning, I haven’t even seen you stop to get a coffee.” Violet eyed the older woman, the bags under her eyes, the stress weighing down her shoulders. She tried not to ask for much or weigh her down any further with any demands or unnecessary drama, but it didn’t matter. The woman was a non-stop workaholic.

“I’m fine,” she assured with a smile, opening Violet’s dressing room for her and following her in. Violet got right to work eating her fast food breakfast, not caring about calories or nutrition as she enjoyed her McGriddle. “So how did last night go?”

“It went,” Violet spoke in a dry tone, rolling her eyes. “Dieter had a great show and a good night, that’s all that matters, right?”

“You matter too,” Maria interjected with a maternal look of concern. “Look, I appreciate how drama-free you are as a client, but as a person—you’ve gotta learn to stand up for yourself. For the way you feel.”

“I stood up for myself, I promise. Now, no more lectures or talking about Dieter. I just wanna eat my McDonalds in peace before I go back to the hotel. Okay?” Violet gave her a pleading look, Maria nodding and letting it go, choosing to scroll through her emails for the remainder of Violet’s breakfast before walking her out to the car waiting for her and seeing her off for the day.

To say that Dieter Bravo lived rent free in her mind would be an understatement. Dieter owned it—wrecked it. All that she could think about was him and his stupid fucking penis and what he was doing with it and why it wasn’t her he’d been doing it with.

It should’ve disgusted her, seeing Dieter with another woman, the way his hands stroked over her hair as she sat on her knees for him, but when she replayed the scene in her head, it was almost as though the other woman was never there to begin with.

All she could imagine was herself down on the ground in front of him, pleasing him, taking everything he had to give, hearing him moan her name just like he had on accident. That one little sentence had been lodged inside her fucking ears, replaying all morning as she tried to tune it out.

Oh fuck, Violet. Over and over. Nonstop. The cracked moan of her name punctuating the sentence she never thought she’d get to hear.

Violet knew that sex with Dieter should be off the table, scrapped completely and burned, and yet, she was still just a woman. She had needs—deep, longing, shameful needs—and the more she thought about his girth, his length, the fat tip of his cock, the way it curved up like it was designed to please, the harder it was to keep those needs at bay.

Perhaps there was a way that she could get what she wanted while not having to deal with her lack of trust for the dude. They could fuck sometimes the same way that they kiss sometimes, when one of them needed it, the other provided a friendly service, no strings attached. But every time she played out the fantasy in her mind, she could feel her imaginary self slipping up, forgetting her place, falling for a man unable to love her the way she craved. The sex could never be worth the ache of his rejection—so, celibacy it was.

For now.

•••

Dieter woke up with a startle as polite knocks sounded on the door to the fake couple’s penthouse suite, his head throbbing with each thud on the wood. He groaned as though he was an ancient vampire forced into daylight after centuries of rest, rubbing his temples and reaching for his sunglasses as he stood upright. He swayed a bit, still drunk and high, but carried himself forward, knowing that if he didn’t stop the housekeepers from entering, they’d do it on their own accord.

Dieter swallowed the vomit creeping up his esophagus before cracking the door open and sticking his face in it, hardly able to make out the housekeeper’s face through his own turmoil. “Please…no more knocking…I’m begging you.”

“W-would you like me to change the linens or leave them at the door, sir?” The woman seemed to recognize him, her eyes looking everywhere but directly at him. Dieter usually thought it was pretty funny to see people try to play off their starstruck panic, but today it only irritated him.

“Just—“ He stopped himself from speaking as the first word came out too harsh. No need to fuck her day up just because he was having a hard time. Dieter accepted the new linens and set them down on the bench right inside the entryway, reaching into the pocket of his robe and grabbing his wallet, flicking through smaller bills to find a hundred dollar bill and handing it over to her. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you, sir,” she gave him a grateful smile but he couldn’t be bothered to show any more kindness than he already had. Dieter closed the door on her and slugged his way over to the sofa, plopping down too hard, reigniting his headache.

Dieter sat facing Violet’s closed bedroom door, stuck in a daze as he thought back to the night before. He had no idea that she was standing there, watching him, but to say that it hadn’t been his inebriated intention for her to find them would be a lie. Of course he knew better than to get his dick sucked in their common space, the lewd sounds registering in his mind the entire time as too loud, but perhaps a part of him wanted her to see. Wanted to see that he was desirable.

Now, the name slip—that hadn’t been planned.

Overwhelmed by his regrets and the desire that still lingered inside of him, he pulled out his phone and ordered way too much takeout—pizza, Chinese, a bit of sushi, way too many fucking cookies from his favorite spot in the city—hoping that if he indulged himself enough, the itch to add her to the list would go away.

But just to be sure, Dieter pulled out his stash and went to town, smoking bowl after bowl, joint after joint, until he’d reached the ceiling of how high he could get.

…And then he reached for the decanter of whiskey in the kitchen. Just to be sure.

•••

It was around noon when Violet finally willed herself to stop stalling at Sephora, binge shopping her emotions away. Carrying two of the largest black and white striped bags she’d ever seen, she unlocked the door to the suite and was immediately hit with the smell of weed and takeout.

“Jesus,” she whispered as she spotted Dieter passed out on the sectional, a cup of whiskey in one hand and a piece of pizza on his bare stomach. “Dieter?”

She was surprised he didn’t wake up at the sound of his name being called, her voice far from quiet. “Dieter? Hello? Are you fucking alive?”

Still, no movement from the actor. In a last bid attempt at waking him without having to go over and touch him, Violet walked over to her bedroom door, opening it before slamming it closed again.

Dieter sprang to life, breathing in a quick inhale through his nose as he looked over the rim of his sunglasses at her. Violet stood with a disappointed look on her face, arms crossed over her chest.

“Could you slam it any louder? I’m not sure they heard you in Brooklyn.” Dieter grumbled as his headache set back in, the high now only making him exhausted. He peeled the piece of pizza off his stomach and slapped it down on top of the box, eyes remaining in a squint even with his sunglasses shielding most of the light.

“This is disgusting, Dieter.” Violet felt obligated to help sort this mess out—literally, at least. With a suck of her teeth, she set down her bags and walked into the kitchen, pulling out a black trash bag and carrying it over to the living room.

“You don’t have to clean up my mess,” Dieter sighed and reached for the bag but she withheld it, this stern, almost warning glare on her face the entire time. Dieter watched as she shoved the pizza box into the bag last, tying it up and leaving it by the door.

Surprisingly, Violet didn’t stop there. No, she needed it to be spotless.

“You gonna talk or just pretend like nothing happened?” Dieter probed as Violet wiped down the coffee table with disinfectant wipes, the smell of citrus slowly replacing the smell of weed and marinera sauce. When he was met with no response, he chuckled and shook his head. “Look, I’ll start. I shouldn’t have been doing that in our common area—“

“Can you lift that?” She pointed to a book on the coffee table, her hand holding the wipe waiting next to it. Dieter scoffed as he lifted the book, Violet wiping over it a few times before he set it back down again.

“Violet, I’m trying to apologize,” he reasoned, eyes glued to her every feature to try and get a read on her but she was too fucking good at hiding behind a mask.

“You don’t need to apologize, Dieter. Shit happens.” Violet tossed the used wipes into the trash bag before grabbing one of his joints and leaving him alone to go smoke on the balcony. Dieter didn’t last long before he got up and walked outside to join her, the sound of the glass door sliding open making Violet groan. “Dieter, I’m begging—“

“I shouldn’t have fucked someone else—“ Violet quirked an eyebrow at him, causing him to panic and blurt out an unplanned second half of the sentence. “…in our common area.”

“Right. Whatever. Fuck who you want, where you want, Dieter.” Violet chuckled, rolling her eyes as she handed the joint over to him. “I’m going out.”

“Or you could stay and we could talk about things. I once had an overpriced therapist tell me that’s important in relationships!” Dieter called out but Violet pretended not to hear him, simply grabbing her purse and leaving the suite without another word. Dieter let his eyes close as the door thumped closed, sighing as he stood alone on the balcony with a half-smoked joint in hand. “Way to fucking go, Bravo.”

•••

“So…Dieter Bravo, huh?” Sam, one of Violet’s childhood friends and current broadway actress sat on the opposite side of her sofa, Violet groaning at the mention of the man she was attempting to avoid. “How the hell’d that happen?”

“It’s not…not for real,” she confessed, knowing that if there were only one person in this world she could trust, it would be Sam. “Just until my movie comes out and his reputation is salvaged.”

“That’s Hollywood, baby!” Sam chuckled as she stood up and walked into her kitchen, the small studio layout allowing Violet to continue the conversation.

“Sometimes I feel like I should’ve never left New York. Should’ve stayed here and did theater with you. Maybe then I’d be happier—“

“You’re not sad because of where you live, babe. You’re sad because of how you’re living.” She brought back two glasses of wine, handing one to Violet before sitting down. “At some point you’re going to break, and this pretty little mask you’ve made for yourself is gonna crack. It’s too much pressure for a person to pretend to be as perfect as you try to be constantly.”

“Yes,” she sighed, chuckling at her own problems. “It’s fucking exhausting. Every single part of it. And what fucking sucks is that for the first time in so fucking long, I started to feel like maybe someone understood me. And then I woke up to the fucker getting head in the kitchen.”

“What?” She gasped and nearly choked on her wine, placing her hand over her heart. “You didn’t tell me about that!”

“Yeah, I’ve been actively trying to avoid talking about myself, Samantha.” Violet chuckled and shrugged, looking off to the side as she tried to word herself right. “I have feelings for Dieter fucking Bravo. I can admit that to you because I know you won’t judge me.”

“I’m more so curious as to what’s drawing you in? I mean, a handsome face only goes so far.”

“Exactly! That’s—yes!” Violet shouted enthusiastically, laughing at her theatrics as she stood up with her wine glass in hand. “He’s a fucking little raccoon of a man and I want to fuck him so bad. None of it makes sense. The fucker is nice to me sometimes. That’s it. No other redeemable qualities besides his dick.”

“Is it nice?” Sam asked, raising her eyebrows with a grin. Violet groaned loudly and flopped back down onto the sofa.

“So nice. It’s huge. Although, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll be good, right?” Violet asked with a bit of hopefulness in her tone, earning another laugh from her friend.

“Right. It could be huge and mouthwatering and absolutely terrible at pleasing you. That’s totally possible.” Violet squinted at her as Sam weighed her head to the side and took a sip of her wine. “Or it could be the best dick you’ll ever have.”

“Fuck you. No. Definitely not.” Violet frowned as she faced forward, her mind now filled with images of his cock coming all over the tile of their kitchen floor. “Well—maybe.”

•••

“Hey,” Dieter practically jumped onto his feet as Violet walked into the suite around 8 p.m., a timid smile on his face as he eyed her carefully.

“‘Sup,” Violet nodded her head at him casually as she grabbed the untouched shopping bags from Sephora and carried them into her room without another word.

“Sup?” Dieter repeated with an irritated scrunch of his face, looking around the room at nobody with his palms up in disbelief. “Fuck it. She’s done, then so am I.”

Dieter had longed to take a line of the powdery white substance sitting in his coat pocket all day long, but out of desire to be better for her, he’d refrained. But now that it was as clear as day that Violet was through with even engaging with him as an acquaintance, he had nothing to abstain for.

Walking into his bedroom, he let the door slam as he reached into his coat pocket and set out three neat lines for himself in the bathroom, taking in a deep breath before snorting them off the countertop.

It didn’t take long for Dieter’s pity party to turn into an actual party—of one.

Dieter spun around in his bedroom to Madonna’s hit single, “Express Yourself”, the song blaring on the hotel’s impressive speaker system. Dieter was as high as a kite, holding a glass of whiskey in one hand that was surely spilling everywhere but he didn’t care.

“Come on, girls! Do you believe in love? 'Cause I've got something to say about it. And it goes something like this,” Dieter shouted along to the intro, twirling around the room, using the belt to his robe as a boa of sorts. “Don't go for second best, baby. Put your love to the test. You know, you know you've got to make him express how he feels and maybe then you'll know your love is real.”

Violet was drunk when she got back to the hotel, Dieter’s attempt at conversation squashed immediately over the simple fact that she couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

She tried to take her mind off both her drunken state and her desire to weep by smoking a little bit more and practicing some of the yoga she once made a resolution to do every single day but hadn’t attempted since the second week of January.

Starting off slow, she tried to tap into her spirituality, or what little remained of it, taking mindful breaths, trying to tune out the blaring 90’s pop from the other side of the suite. All her efforts to find peace and meditation were futile, Dieter’s pitchy singing now doubling the volume of the music.

Violet let out a deep, guttural groan at his antics, the mask slipping finally and exposing the tangled web of emotions beneath it. With a huff and a determined stare, Violet left her bedroom and stomped over to his, pounding on the door.

“Bravo!” She called over the blaring music, fist beating on the door until it opened.

Dieter stood there with a wide grin, his sunglasses tipped low on his nose. He was wearing just a pair of boxers underneath his fluffy, brown coat. Seeing him so at ease ignited something inside her—anger seemed too soft of a word to use for the way her skin burned with irritation, both at him and herself.

“Hi—“

“You are the most selfish, insufferable, dirty little man I have ever had the punishment of having to be around! All you do is think of yourself and do whatever you want, not giving a shit about anybody else! I wish I could properly articulate how fucking irritating you are, Dieter!” Violet screamed over “Groove Is In The Heart”, Dieter staring blankly at her with parted lips and glassy eyes. “God, and you just stand there and look so fucking stupid! Are you even fucking listening?”

“Yeah—“

“Ugh, I hate your smug little fucking voice and—“ She eyed him up, her anger quickly beginning to feel like arousal as she scanned the exposed skin of his torso, or perhaps her self-control had just snapped completely and she was now fully at the mercy of every one of her irresponsible desires. “Fuck it.”

Dieter grunted as Violet’s body clashed with his, her lips kissing his searingly as she walked him backwards to the armchair in the corner of his bedroom. Her tongue battled with his for dominance as she straddled his lap, Dieter’s hands frozen in place as his brain short-circuited.

“God, you’re so fucking frustrating. Just touch me,” Violet grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips, Dieter’s grip tightening as he forced himself of his disbelief and back into the moment.

Violet Apollo was sitting on his lap, kissing him, biting him, moaning for him. No matter how many times he imagined his first time with her, he never imagined her so…animalistic.

He always figured she’d be soft, gentle, romantic, but here she was tugging on his lip so hard he was whimpering for her, her hips grinding down against his lap. When she took her top off, unhooked her bra and revealed herself to him, he swore he’d reached heaven—but of course, something had to ruin it.

“Uh,” Violet ran her hand over his lap and furrowed her brows, not feeling anything hard at all no matter how hard she searched.

She’d seen his cock, if it was hard, she wouldn’t have even needed to reach for it to know it was there.

“Well that’s humbling,” she chuckled at herself and quickly scrambled off his lap, avoiding his eyes as she gathered her bra and top before rushing out of the room.

Violet couldn’t help but feel sickeningly embarrassed, quickly turning the lock on her bedroom door before she rushed into the shower still in her skirt and tights. The hot water rained down on her as she sobbed on the floor, her knees tucked close to her chest.

She’d finally put herself out there, exposing more of herself to him than she ever thought she would. And he couldn’t have been less into it, apparently.

Althroughout her childhood, adolescence, and even early adulthood, Violet struggled with the extra plushness she carried around her stomach—so much so that it wasn’t until she was twenty-three that she allowed a partner to see her naked with the lights on.

Violet knew it wasn’t Dieter’s fault that he wasn’t attracted to her, and she tried to reason with herself that he had every right to like the supermodel build rather than her curvy one, but no matter how many times she repeated it in her head, she couldn’t help the sting in her heart from the rejection.

Perhaps she read it all wrong between them, and all the kisses and flirting and long conversations were simply just something to do for him. Something to keep him from getting bored. Or, more depressing, maybe he was only attracted to her with her clothes on? Perhaps he hadn’t realized how curvy she was, and now that he’d seen it, he changed his mind?

Quickly shaking her head to clear her mind of her intrusive thoughts, she took a shaky but deep breath, gathering her composure. She stood up and peeled off her wet clothes, letting them slap against the floor of the shower before carrying on like normal, washing her hair and shaving her legs like nothing had ever happened at all. The mask was back on, and after tonight, it would likely never come off again.

•••

Dieter was left frozen and speechless, staying still long after he’d watched her run off to her bedroom and lock the door behind her, the sound of his 90’s dance playlist blaring in the background mostly washing away her sobs, but he could still hear them clear enough to ache for her.

Never in his life had he not been able to get it up. No matter the amount he had to drink, the amount of substances in his system, nothing had ever prevented him from performing. So why now?

He knew the answer, and god, did he wish he was simply just an old man with erectile dysfunction. His life would be a whole lot easier if that was the case, but of course, it wasn’t.

Dieter knew that the reason he couldn’t get hard for her was because he was panicking. Panicking because it was finally happening for them. Panicking because he was high during it. Panicking because he wasn’t ready like he wanted to be for her when they finally crossed that line. Panicking because he didn’t want to lose her over something as fucking silly as sex.

A part of him wanted to go over and apologize, try to explain himself to her, but the thought of confessing even a single one of those fears to her made him freeze all over again. He couldn’t open up, at least not now, not in this state of mind.

Dieter sat there, staring blankly ahead through his opened door and at her closed one, his music still playing, his body not having moved an inch, wondering why the fuck he couldn’t just be easy to love like everyone else seemed to be. He craved destruction too much, and feared anything too good to be true, preferring to ruin it before it could ruin him.

He’d gone so long without having to face the reality of his brokenness, but never in his life had he longed to love someone properly like this. It consumed him—his inadequacy mixing with his yearning. He wanted her, but every time he looked into her pretty brown eyes, he could only see all the reasons he shouldn’t have her.

In an act of determination, and a rare show of self-care and responsibility, Dieter reached for his phone and searched through his contacts until he found the number to his old therapist, the only one that he felt treated him like a human rather than a star.

DB: Need to make an appointment. I think I’m getting bad again.

Dr. Bradford: Hello, Dieter. I’m glad you reached out. Let’s set up a call tomorrow afternoon and you can tell me more about it.

DB: Sounds good, doc.

DB: Do I need to be sober?

Dr. Bradford: Yes, Dieter. Have a good night.

DB: Fine.

Even if he wasn’t good enough for her right now, it didn’t mean it needed to stay that way. And until he got better, Dieter vowed to try and salvage his friendship with her. Starting in the morning.

Right now he needed to cry in the shower to some Whitney Houston.

•••

dieter taglist: @browneyes-issac @wildemaven @laureliciousdefinition @trinkets01 @paulalikestuff @toomanystoriessolittletime @alwayslurkinginthebackground @pastelnap @fishingforpike @littlemisspascal @pedropascalsx (please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo series #dieter bravo bubble #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo angst #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo #plastic hearts

[the-manors-writer]

The last ask you did gave me a great ideafor an ask lol

Yandere Naib with a s/o that was kidnapped (by a hunter, by people from his past, i don’t have a specific idea for who did it) if that’s too complicated, yan naib with a badly injured reader would be my second choice :)

have a great day!

thank you, detective! i hope you have a great day as well. by the way, i hope you don’t mind that i did headcanons. there was no clarification, i hope you enjoy. also haha more yandere >:D - mod orpheus

request: yandere naib w/ kidnapped! s/o pairing: [naib subedar] yandere!naib x kidnapped!reader warnings: general yandere behaviour, almost noncon but it got stopped, dismemberment, graphic descriptions of violence

naib subedar

you were teasing antonio too much, you really were

you shouldn’t be but you kept doing so and the hunter was getting sick and tired of it

if you kept brushing your hand over his leg like that...

...

that’s it.

that night, you were making your way back to your room after sneaking a midnight snack

you were ambushed from the darkness by a mass of hair, whisked away into the shadows with only the humming of a demon violinist echoing through the air

come next morning, nobody found you

they assumed you were out doing errands that day, after all it was an off day

you woke up in the middle of antonio gently kissing at your neck

your head turned to try and squirm his lips away, and he did so

“antonio..? wh- what the hell?” “ciao, bellisima,” he breathed out, the scent of wine in the air. he’s been drinking again

he grinned as he tugged at your waistband, “you really are just a filthy tease, you know, [darling]?”

every word was so breathless, like he’s hot under the collar

“oh, i can’t wait for you to be taught a lesson for that..”

it was clear what the intentions were, and your eyes widened with tears at the realisation

“a-antonio.. no.. wait-” “just like that, mio prezioso. just like that..”

naib had been watching you for the past week

he’s been trying to keep the urges under control, especially whenever he saw you with the violinist

you’ve both been getting a bit too friendly for his tastes

the violinist looks at you no longer like a friend

that’s not a good thing for him.

when you were missing that morning, naib immediately knew where he was going to go

he knew your schedule. around this time, you’d be off playing with robbie, memory, and yidhra’s followers

you never wanted to miss one playdate as it would upset them, especially without warning

he stormed his way through the hunter manor’s halls and slammed open the door to the violinist’s room

he actually ripped the knob off the door at the sight that he saw

that filthy fucking violinist, body caging yours in with your legs limp around his waist and that demon’s hairs wrapped around your limbs

he stormed forward, hearing a ringing in his ears as he rose his hand and ripped the hunter away from you with an unknown strength, throwing him to the ground

antonio tried to sit up, but was met with a steel tipped boot to his chin

a violent crack resounded, a yell of pain, a scream of terror, but the mercenary didn’t care

he grabbed at antonio’s face, slamming his nose against his knee and revelling in the crunch that resounded

when the hunter’s head flew back, he saw teeth that fell out and blood gushing from the broken nose and cut lip

the only thing that antonio managed to say was, ‘wait-’

and then naib kicked him to the ground, stomping and digging his heel into the hunter’s body

when the demon tried to crawl away, the mercenary easily grabbed him and pinned him down by pressing his knee to his back, grabbing at antonio’s stitched arms and ripping it off

blood gushed against the floor and the survivor’s hands, the only instinct in his mind commanding him to kill

the only thing that drew him out was when he felt your arms around his back, hugging and trying to pull him off antonio while crying

you were crying...

it was like that snapped him out of the trance he was in

naib swung his head to you and didn’t let you say a thing, picking you up and running to his room as fast as he could

when you were set down, he cringed

the blood from antonio that was on his body had stained some parts of you... no, no no. he doesn’t like that

he doesn’t like seeing you defiled with blood

you were his angel, his precious, you were innocent no matter what and he couldn’t stand to see such a sight

he had to leave and come back with a damp towel to wipe you clean

“are you okay...?” he whispered softly as he held it out to you, unsure if you were okay with a touch right now

a man’s touch especially

when you didn’t take the towel, but let him touch your skin.. he melted a bit

you trusted him enough to let him touch you

“...i’m okay. just.. i don’t think i want to play for a while.” “yeah. figured as much. you can stay here. i’ll keep you safe from monsters like him.”

your smile brightened up the room more than it already is.

he wasn’t going to let this happen again, he told you as much

he swears he’ll protect you

and when you smile at him and nod with teary eyes, he knows

he’ll never let you go again.

[ art credit - @nuishiron ]

#yandere tw #writing.txt #letters.txt #anon.txt #identity v #identity v x reader #identity v writing #idv #idv x reader #idv writing #naib subedar #naib subedar idv #naib subedar identity v #naib subedar x reader #idv naib #identity v naib #the mercenary #the mercenary idv #the mercenary identity v #the mercenary x reader #idv mercenary #identity v mercenary

[dizzy-and-friends]

Armina Dalmar Ghedi: Night Raid

Beautiful Armina, she is the one who asked me to silence the night watch.

I cross yards at a time, gleeful as I am bounding. Full clear, she demanded - Not a soul standing in the estate.  I stalked even the shadows themselves, though I only had until full moon’s midnight to complete my order. The guards who patrol these walls are few, and I am a studied archer. I miss the way Aadila used to congratulate me on my work, but the young master is so estranged from zirs delightful sister.The Ghedi family is complicated, and relationships are muddied by political issues. Shadows swallow the corpses as they fall, a silver glint is the only mark that is left Something of a token, the magic cannot consume the silver, but it is boiled to a lump like some kind of forge slag.. I return to the rooftops and my heart shreds my voice through anxiety. She is so beautiful, but keeping her distance from the estate. Her enemies are clever, and no so clever as this duke. The last patrol is removed by my final arrow, the shadow explodes from the glass charm at the broad tip, and, though he screams, i cannot hear him. The other he was courting, a fellow guard, stout and wide as a handsome hammer, is easily doomed from proximity. I turned to her, all the lovely gifts she gave me have been dispatched to the guards, and i raise my bow with a candle to alert Armina that I have completed the route. She is a fire-branded beauty, even as she collects the folds of her hood to hide her face. Several others approached with her, though surely one is rival for her heart, I expect I am soon her favorite acolyte. While we are gathered together, the call to arms for the second phase is made. our teams are set. Armina stared into my eyes before she spoke: “When you find the rooftop weakened, exploit that and take us through the great manor. I trust you won’t lead me to harm, but my preparations are complete. All here play a roll. This strike will announce my distaste for the Duke’s poor judgement.” Of course, Armina’s eyes are hidden behind her veil, but the auburn lips of rapturous beauty, glistening in the candle-light, entice the very essence of each dying ember of justice left in this world. When she spoke to us, my heart held each breath like a bouquet on my wedding day. This obsession often drives me to wish i had the willpower to fully embrace the fairer side of my genes.. Armina leads us through each hall, and we burst through each door until we have become guests in the ball room. Almost none of the service is awake so late at night, and those that stir, Armina’s blades rush from her side and treat the interloper to a silent, peaceful embrace. Though i know not if they die in this process, i know there is no blood. Armina is armed, but she does not raise her hands to combat. It is beneath her. She is of higher purpose, and greater feats. In the ball room she brandishes her sword, a silver saber to rival her sibling’s rapier. She begins her ritual, writing in black and red dust upon the floor in a spiral, before setting it blazed with some solution. Like a mystic legend, the trail of dust consumed the floor and spat such smoke that we all though surely she was endangered, but when the short flames settled, and the spiral was cut into the dance floor, Armina gestured to me. Finally was my part to play, certainly a pivot in my career among these radicals.  Armina, in such grace and swift motion, drew her blade across my chest, and I fell to the warm embers of the floor. She removed the pendant and my eyes were so .. dark now. I could feel pain, finally. Armina’s magic spells bound to my mind, drew back like great tendrils of a deadly vine. Her vile works enraptured me, and i followed every word to the final breath until this moment. “Do not fret, child.” Armina whispered to me, her voice as gentle and soft as ever, but my ears now suffer as she speaks, my captor, my warden of a prison within my mind. I suffer here because of the witchery of a vile corruptor. I tried to speak, but my tongue flapped not at all, and a blank nub ground against my teeth, barely i was able to even utter a curse upon her. Pitiful as it would be, and without affect upon the fated witch of the Ghedi family. Armina put a finger to my lips, and i could not bite her because my teeth were so far gone. Now seemingly removed, but when? She stood over me, and quickly drove a sword to my chest.

That is what came of me, as i lay here now. Nothing but anger and deceit - the embers below me will have me by the morrow, and she will leave me. My blood is so corrupted by her ways that it faintly sizzled into glittering dust around me, following the spiral along the floor. they left me, and my hands are changing. My blood is stiffening. I have lost my perspective and now i am looking out from within a glass bottle inside a writhing corpse. Does she even know my name? Armina Dalmar Ghedi, a banshee like no other, enchantress of the northern seas and sister to a blood starved lunatic. Why would anyone trust her, if not for the jewel of her love? A love so deep that it’s wrath still shivers my soul from within this prison that will no doubt haunt my resting-place long after her departure into the guiltless night.

#aadila #armina #OC #writeblr #oc rp #writers and poets #text post

[autolovecraft]

Sawyer died of a malignant fever.

At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb. It may have been mocking. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. He was just dizzy and careless enough to annoy his sensitive horse, which as he drew it viciously up at the tomb neighed and pawed and tossed its head, much as on that former occasion when the rain had vexed it. Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. He cried aloud once, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door.

An eye for an eye! I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced.

Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. That was Darius Peck, the nonagenarian, whose grave was not far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to compute how he might most stably use the eight to rear a scalable platform four deep.

The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last. Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. When Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the enlarged transom; but gathered his energies for a determined try. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed?

He always remained lame, for the great tendons had been severed; but I think the greatest lameness was in his soul. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. He could not walk, it appeared, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy. Birch decided that he would begin the next day with little old Matthew Fenner, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside.

That was Darius Peck, the nonagenarian, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th.

His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin, but you always did go too damned far! That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things.

Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you always did go too damned far! At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb.

Why did you do it, Birch? Undisturbed by oppressive reflections on the time, the place, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door.

In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. It may have been mocking. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you always did go too damned far! His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the rejected specimen, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. When Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb.

You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. In another moment he knew fear for the first time that night; for struggle as he would, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity. Birch, but you always did go too damned far! The wounds—for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons—seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him. He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was.

[crumble-cookii]

Can you please draw Strawberry Crepe Cookie & Strawberry Cookie in a swap clothing? X3

yes, yes I can

#cookie run #strawberry cookie #strawberry crepe cookie #sorry this took so long to post #i drew it at like almost midnight the night it was asked so i fell asleep and then forgot to post it #remembered it now as i was going through my sketchbook jsbdns #i love the idea strawberry cookie with a hijab but it felt weird to try adding that in here so i just. didnt #ive never actually drawn strawby before(at least not how i normally would which is human) so i guess im just never going to include one #that would just feel weird to do it after this :( #but thats fine idm

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re not my real mom !” - Batkids x Fem!Reader (Batmom)

Synopsis : A story about those few dreaded words : “You’re not my real mom”, said by the batkids, to you, in a the heat of a moment. And the aftermath of it all... 

This has been in my draft for ages. I hope you like it :) : 

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

DICK 

It happened so fast. In a quick moment of anger. 

A flash, a bang, words said too quickly to truly realize their meaning. 

Dick was frustrated because he felt you didn’t understand him, his point of view. And you were trying to explain to him that it was not okay to...

You know what ? 

You couldn’t even remember what he did. As if whatever it was, it was all wiped out of your memory when he pronounced those bone chilling words. 

You only remembered you were “scolding” him, just like parents do when their child did something he wasn’t supposed to. You rarely told Dick off, even when he would burst into fits of anger. 

You always told him : “When you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son, I love all of you.” 

And you meant it. Often, you or Bruce would take the brunt of his anger, without batting an eye. After all, that child went through a lot. It was totally normal for him to lash out at times. 

He saw his parents died right in front of him. It wasn’t a trauma that would be solved that fast (Bruce was proof of it). “The magic of love” couldn't simply cure someone who was so deeply hurt. Although it helped, over time. 

Yes. Time. 

It would take time, and support, for Dick to heal. And you were here for it. Here for him. 

But there were times, you had to say something. 

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless. 

Your son could be overzealous, and go too far. And you were so worried about his safety and wellbeing...Very rarely, you’d have to “scold” him. 

And you couldn’t even remember what you were lecturing him about that evening (even if you had an idea it was about being a little more careful). All you remembered was...

“You’re not even my real mom ! You can’t tell me anything !” 

And him turning away from you, crossing his arms and refusing to look your way. Which was good anyway, because you were an instant mess. 

“Ok”, you managed to say, wondering how the hell you were able to get the words out. And then you left. Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. And your heart slowly breaking. 

Bruce found you two later, both clearly feeling down... 

Dick stayed quiet the entire time they were on patrol, and Bruce instantly knew something was wrong. He wasn’t there during your fight, and he only arrived when you were already gone, surprised that you went to bed so early in the night, and didn’t stay with your son downstairs until it was time for patrol... 

The man didn’t push the boy, waiting for him to open up if he wanted to. And as usual, Dick did finally speak up. In a weak voice, as they were surveying the city from a rooftop, he said :

“I told her she wasn’t my real mom...” 

“Ah.” 

Bruce felt the urge to go back home and console you, knowing that you were certainly a mess, right now. But he had to take care of his boy, too. 

And oh, oh Dick looked so crestfallen and sad as the meaning of his words slowly etched into his mind. 

“I told her she wasn’t-she wasn’t-but she is I just-I-I don’t know why I said that-I...” 

The little one was on the verge of tears, and Bruce understood why. 

He probably understood more than anyone else. 

He told Alfred “You’re not my dad !” more than once, and remembered how even the stoic butler looked, whenever he said it. 

He remembered the hurt in his eyes, the resignation too. The “very well sir”, said in a neutral manner, but the stiff way he’d left the room. 

It took Bruce a while, to finally realize that Alfred WAS his father. That he raised him, most definitely. And was always there for him during the hard times. 

That he even helped and supported him, when he came back after disappearing for years, saying : “I’m going to dress up as a bat and wipe crimes from Gotham”. ...How many parents would be that understanding, eh ? 

Alfred knew Bruce. And always tried to do his best for him. So whenever Bruce would yell at him that he “wasn’t his father”, it hurt. 

Bruce knew it. He noticed how Alfred’s entire demeanor would change. He’d see a light go out in his eyes. 

“Very well, sir.”, a small bow, and the stiffness of his body as he left...

And Bruce remembered. 

The guilt and the pain he felt himself, as he regretted ever saying those words. As he knew they were going to hurt, which is why he said them in the first place.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt his adopted father, oh no. It was that sometimes he just...He just felt so angry ! Like everything was unfair ! And he missed his parents so much ! 

It was a force stronger than him, he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, and pushed him away...”You’re not my dad !”. So yes. Bruce understood little Dickie. He understood you, too. He knew how you must’ve felt, he saw it enough happening to Alfred. 

Once you’d get home, he would take care of you. But right now, he had to care for his son. 

Right here, on one of Gotham’s rooftop, the scary and mighty Batman slowly kneeled down, and took his boy in his arms, holding him tightly. 

Dick didn’t need more to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders, and hold him strongly too, with all his nine years old strength, sobbing slowly. 

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered : 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. It’s ok. Calm down, things are going to be ok.” 

Your husband lost count of the time passing. Were they there, holding each others while Dick was sobbing uncontrollably, for ten minutes, or for ten hours ? He didn’t know. And he didn’t budge.  

His son needed him. Just like once, he needed Alfred... 

Dick fell asleep in his arms, and that night, Bruce came home early. 

Not like he was going to stay out anyway, knowing you were probably devastated, all alone in your room... 

************

Dick fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t budge one bit even as Bruce came down the building, rode home, and put him into bed. 

Bruce’s guess was that all the pent up feelings truly exhausted him. Also, he knew that crying could be tiring. And freeing, in a way. 

Putting the boy’s blanket all the way up to his chin, Bruce laid a kiss on his forehead and then rushed to your shared bedroom... 

You had cried too, but you were not asleep. 

Your eyes were puffy and red, and your cheeks marked with your tears. You seemed surprised, when he came in, and looked at the clock. 

It was only midnight ? 

“Hello, my love.” 

He sat down next to you, and from the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and caressed your cheek, wiping the salty tears from it...You knew he knew.

He knew how devastated you felt. How those simple words that would mean nothing for many, truly wounded you. 

He knew how much you loved that boy, how as soon as your eyes laid on his little face that terrible night he lost his parents, you felt like he was going to be your son one day. 

He knew how much you’d sacrifice for that kid’s happiness, how far you’d go to keep him safe...And so, how hurtful him telling you you weren’t his real mother must’ve felt.  

There was no need for words. 

He knew what to do. He laid next to you, and you just cuddled up to him, letting him wrap you up in his warm embrace. 

He drew those same soothing circles on your back than he did on Dick’s. And whispered : 

“He didn’t mean it. He truly didn’t. He loves you, you know. I love you too.” 

You fell asleep to his words of love and reassurance, finally letting go after hours of not being able to sleep, reenacting the terrible scene in your head over and over again, making yourself feel worst each times. 

************

You woke up around 4 am, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you.  

He was asleep and escaping his grasp (without Alfred’s help) took you a little bit..but you managed to leave without waking him up. 

He did groan a little at the loss of your warmth, and grabbed your pillow to hold it against his chest. Which was extremely cute, and oh how glad you were to be the only one to see this side of him. 

You went down to the kitchen and... 

Dick was coming from the other door, opposite to the one you took.

The kitchen had three access. Two doors facing each others, and one on the third wall. The door you took was because you got a little lost and did a detour through the drawing room. Dick, however, came from the door you should’ve come from too, which was the one you accessed from the West Wing third corridors, which was directly under your bedroom, and Dick’s. 

The boy probably stood up a little after you, and while you got lost in your own home (again), he took the normal way and...

Boom. Here you both were, arriving in the kitchen at the same time. 

There was a small silence. Awkward. And...

Your heart tightened. 

Dick was sort of cowering backward in fear. Fear of what ? 

Oh. But of course. 

“He didn’t mean it.” 

Bruce whispered to you many times, before you fell asleep. And the way Dick looked at you, worry in his eyes...He was thinking you were mad at him. And the regret in his pupils was as obvious as that fact. 

“Ice cream ?” 

You ask him. His eyes widen a bit, and you can almost see the gears in his brain trying to piece everything together. You’re...not mad at him ? 

Of course you’re not. You felt sad, and lost, and hurt, yes. But never did you feel any hint of anger. Of course not. 

You take out his favorite flavor from the freezer, and settle a bowl in front of one of the high stool around the counter. 

At that time, Dick was so tiny. A very short little bean. And he’d stay small for a long time, only having a sudden spurt when he was around fifteen. 

He climbed onto the stool, and watched you as you gave him some ice cream and a spoon, and then sat down next to him to eat some as well. 

The silent was slowly turning less awkward. 

Slowly, and unsurely, Dick picked his spoon up and looked at you. And completely missed his mouth, the ice cream spreading on his cheek instead. 

You turn around to look at him, ice cream on his cheek, and he’s clearly embarrassed, as a tint of color slowly rises on his face. 

You don’t really know why, but something snaps in you and you start laughing. And laughing. And laughing. 

Because honestly, the kid missing his mouth as he picked his spoon up full of ice cream, is kinda funny right ? And also, all the tension and stress you felt suddenly broke with this simple, silly thing. 

Unsure at first, Dick just looked at you. But your laughter quickly spread to him, and soon enough, you both were bursting out in laughter. 

Anyone not knowing what happened, would probably think you were both crazy, laughing that hard for no apparent reasons. 

Instinctually, you ruffle his hair and Dick gasps. You really weren’t mad at him ?!

You realized what you did, and slowly, both your laughter subsided. There was a small silence as Dick stared at you, and you stared back, and then : 

“I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it !” 

He says in a small voice, and he can’t add anything else as you just pick him up and hold him tight against your heart, and you say : 

“I know.” 

And it’s all he needs to realize you’re not really mad at him, and although he messed up and hurt you, right now, you were both on the path of recovery... 

Next morning, Bruce woke up alone in bed, which greatly distressed him as usual (he often woke up first). But a gut feeling was telling him that...

He found you asleep with Dick in his bed, holding him tightly. 

************

After that event, you sat down with him, so you could have a serious talk about the underlining issue this raised. Talk about something important. 

“Little bird, you know I love you, right ?” 

He nods, but still cannot speak quite yet, doesn’t have the energy to. 

“I want you to understand something. Something vital. Are you listening ?” 

He nods again, his eyes fixed on you. And he’s listening, oh he definitely is. 

“It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to lash out. It’s ok to not be alright. It’s ok to make mistakes.” 

He nods, a little slower than before, and you can see his eyes slowly becoming wetter and wetter. 

“It’s ok. It really is. I’m here. And I love you. Even when you don’t want me around. Even when you push me away. I’m here. And I always will be. Ok ?” 

He nods one last time, unable to hold his tears, and then his little arms latch around you, and he refuses to let go for well over an hour...

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy. 

Your son. 

************

Even now, at age twenty seven, Dick still often think about this day. And the regrets are as burning as they were back then. 

He often thought about it. 

Whenever you did something for him, went out of your way to make him happy, or were just there for him, always...

He’d have a flashback of this day, and feel nothing but regret and anger at his younger self. 

And then you’d read him like an open book. Know exactly what he was thinking, and would slowly shake your head, and say : “I know I often said that, but I will say it till the day I die if I need to :  when you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son. I love all of you. Even when you’re a little bit of a jerk.” and you’d wink at him, making him chuckle and feel a surge of affection toward you. 

Kind of like the ones you’d feel sometimes. A sudden urge to hug your family, to tell them what they mean to you. Both you and Dick understood since a long time that with the life you all lead, you never knew what could happen, and should never waste a “I love you” if you felt like saying it. 

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ? 

Yes. Because you were his mom. And nothing would ever change his mind on that. Ever. 

JASON 

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !” 

He says to himself in the mirror, and oh he could’ve punch himself if it was possible. He took his desk chair, and threw it across his bedroom, letting out a scream of frustration. 

He went to his desk, and threw everything that was on it on the floor. He then went to his book shelves and...

There. Your book. The one you wrote for him. 

Jason fell to his knee, holding his head in his hands, crying softly. 

Yes. Yes he did it...He ruined this one chance life gave him to have parents. 

He hurt one of the person that meant the most to him, one of the person he loved the most...His mom. You. 

Because you were his mom, no matter what he told you, in that moment of anger as you scolded him after he did something dangerous during one of his patrol. 

He hadn’t been allowed to go out for long, by then. And Bruce had already scolded him before for the very same thing, so when you did it too, he had enough and...it happened before he could think about it. 

He was angry, about the lack of trust and about the sermons, and his brain tried to hurt without even thinking about it. Triggered by years of living in the streets, where he had to think quick and act right away, and then suffer the consequences. If he wasn’t fast enough, it could be the end of him... 

A gut reaction triggered by years of being all on his own, having to fend for himself. His brain went into overdrive, “hurt” is what it set into motion. 

“You’re not my mom !” 

And that was it...

As he saw your face fell, and his father’s face turn angry, he knew. He knew he messed up. He messed everything up, as usual !

“Jason !” 

Bruce called, but Jason wasn’t about to stop. He ran out of the cave, right to his bedroom. Oh, oh but if only he stayed a little longer. He’d realize that his father wasn’t angry, just hurt as well. 

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt. 

Not angry. Ah but being in pain could sometimes look like you are mad ? And Bruce hadn't been able to hide his frown as he heard Jason’s words... 

“Let him be, Bruce.” 

You say in a weak voice. You knew Jason, you knew sometimes he needed to cool down on his own. That he could be impulsive, but always came around. 

Ah. But that time, he needed everything but to be alone. 

Because, as he thought he ruined his one chance at having a real family, he thought... 

“Better to leave before they throw me away !” 

He knew he could never bear to face you and Bruce, as you’d certainly tell him you were “un-adopting” him. Jason saw it happened before. Someone thinking their adopted kid was “too much”, and sending them back. 

It was awful, of course. But it happened. For real. And Jason knew that life could really suck...But her couldn’t bear to face you as you’d send him away. 

Worst, what if you just send Alfred and that was it ?

No. Jason would leave before you could do that. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t. 

Filling his backpack with some clothes, and snacks, he opened his window and slid down the gutter all the way to the ground, and then ran away into the night. Tears trailing down behind him, as he left behind the one place in which he ever felt safe, warm, and loved. 

In the meantime, you and Bruce were unaware of that, and slowly falling asleep in each others’ arms... As usual, Bruce was there for you. 

************

“Jason ? I thought I wouldn’t see you anymore after you got adopted by dem fancy fellas. Are you here to get some work ?” 

“No.” 

“Really, why did you come then ?” 

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.” 

“Nah, don’t believe it. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy !” 

“TAKE IT BACK !” 

As he ran away, Jason went back to a place he thought he never would need to. A few intricate alleys, in the Bowery, under the main city. 

The Bowery, a filthy underground neighborhood, hell on Earth for many. Although things did improve when Batman started his work a few years back. 

“Wow there tiger, relax.” 

Jason came in this specific area for only one thing. Retrieve a few items he left behind, thinking he would never need it again because he was leaving behind this life. 

He had a hideout, not far. In which he hid some materials to survive in the streets. He thought he probably had to go back to stealing cars’ tires...Although maybe he should change it. Thinking of what happened last time he did this hurt his heart. 

He knew that next time he’d get caught stealing tires, the person wouldn’t end up adopting him...Anyway, he didn’t want any other parents but you and Bruce. 

And he messed that up so bad, by being so mean to you ! 

“Listen, it’s not because you got all fancy schmancy that you can talk to me like that. Remember who’s boss in this part of town.” 

Batman did a lot of good to the city, but also, by getting rid of some big players in the “crime business”, he allowed small time thugs to climb up the ladders...It felt, at times, like there always was someone to replace whoever Bruce just put behind bars... 

The man who was talking to Jason, used to be a small time criminal. Turned boss, when the Batman kept arresting all the people above him. Jason used to “work” for him, bringing him watches or jewelry that he’d exchange against cash. 

Damn. He never thought he’d ever see him again... Oh and he definitely didn’t think this through. 

As the new boss, who’s name was Johnny Clancy, told him that he’d forever be a “bad boy”, Jason saw red and...getting mad at a crime boss was a bad idea. 

Before he could even think about an escape plan, Jason was surrounded by dangerous armed men. 

“How dare you talk to me like that ? Mmm. The Waynes adopted you right ? Mmm. They’re loaded. Probably would pay a fortune to get you back uh ? And to think they’re gonna give me a lot of cash to get a little runaway brat back haha. Because that’s what you did right ? You ran away ? As you always did before mm ? You know, I observed you Jason Todd. I saw you run away from anyone getting close. I saw you.” 

Jason’s heart didn’t need anyone to push and squiggle the knife he felt in around some more. He had just lost his family. Did he need more reminder that he always fucked up ?! 

“They won’t give you any money, they don’t want me anymore...” 

But Johnny didn’t believe him, of course. He told two of his thugs to grab the boy, but Jason, by instinct, dropped them to the floor with a few well placed kicks and punches. 

And that was enough to unleash Johnny Clancy’s wrath.

See, he was a new boss. He had to assert dominance. And an eight years old kid making a fool of him and his gang ? That wouldn’t go. 

So what if he had to off a child ? Anything to keep climbing up, and leave the Bowery’s slums. 

************

“Have you seen Jason ?” 

Bruce asks you, a few hours after your fight with him. 

“What ? No, I thought he was with you ?”

“No, he skipped his training and I thought he might be with you, apologizing for what he said yesterday ? You know, sounds like something he would do.” 

“I haven’t seen him since, you know. I thought he was avoiding me...” 

“He would never.” 

“Bruce...” 

“He would never, my love. I know what he said hurt you, but I’m sure he’s regretting it right now. You should go see him, he’s probably sulking in his bedroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you meet him up the stairs as he comes down to say sorry.” 

“Bruce...” 

Your husband comes to you, and takes your hands in his. 

“You know him. He’s impulsive, and a little abrasive sometimes. But he’s a sweet child. And he regrets his bursts, you know it. Tonight was just tough, we both scolded him, he’s not used to it.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m-”

“I swear to God if you say “I’m Batman” I’m going to smack you.” 

Bruce smiles softly at you, glad he managed to at least made the tension go away a little. He pecks your lips quickly, and watches you as you leave to go to your son’s bedroom. 

He was about to go down the Batcave, when you came back, panicked : 

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !” 

Ah. Bruce knew that placing a tracker in his children’s molars was a good idea. 

************

“HOW HARD IS IT TO CATCH A FUCKING KID ?!” 

Jason runs as fast as he can, without looking back. He managed to break the line of thugs coming at him, and escape in-between to of them who didn’t pull their guns out quite yet. 

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation. 

Johnny was set on proving he was an unscrupulous boss. To earn everyone’s respect. So what if he had to shoot a kid ? It’d send everyone a message. He’d back off from nothing ! 

Jason turned in an alley and...Damn it ! He must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point, it had been a while, since he roamed the Bowery’s alleyways...

He was faced by a wall, stuck. And they quickly caught up to him. 

“Wooouh, you’re fast kid. And you’re sneaky. Too bad you’re such a brat, I bet you could be a nice addition to our-”

Johnny Clancy never finished his sentence. In fact, he never could properly speak after that night. After getting his jaw broken into a thousand pieces by the Batman’s fist. 

Bruce had come down from nowhere, with...you in his arms ?! 

This was the first time Jason saw you wear the costume he saw a few times in the Batcave. He thought you wore it only to go to the JLA’s watchtower, to hide your identity. Not that you could actually...fight ?! 

And wow, you definitely could hold your own ! You made a few disarming pass, taking the guns away from all the men before they could even react, and letting Bruce finish them off with well placed kicks and punches. 

Oh and that night, the Batman unleashed his rage and unforgiveness full force. How dare they touch his son ?! 

You didn’t have anything to envy from your husband either, however, as you worked through Johnny’s gang rather fast too. 

That night, the both of you exterminated (figure of speech, of course, neither of you ever killed, that was the one big rule...but there were never a rule against breaking a few bones) Johnny Clancy’s gang, who dared to even think of hurting your precious son. 

Jason, holding his backpack tight against him, couldn’t believe his eyes. You two came to save him ? But...why ? 

He messed up. You’d surely not want him around anymore ! 

Once Bruce dropped the last man, you rushed to Jason and before he could utter a sound, took him in your arms. 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re safe baby, I’m so glad you’re...” 

Your voice broke at the end, and you chocked, the emotions too strong and squeezing your throat. 

Jason didn’t understand. And through his surprise, he managed to say : 

“I thought-I thought you’d never want to see me again, and that you wouldn’t want to be my mom anymore.” 

You hold him even tighter, as you feel Bruce get down on his knee and bring the both of you in his arms. 

“Oh sweety, never. Never.” 

You say, not letting go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” 

Your son manage to choke out, before sobbing profusely and holding on to you and Bruce. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe...it’s ok, it’s ok it’s already forgotten...” 

And it was. As soon as you saw that Jason-That your SON, was missing, you forgot he ever told you “you’re not my mom”. You forgot and it truly didn’t matter anymore, as all you cared about was to find him, and make sure he was safe. 

“Jason, oh my little Jason, I’m so glad you’re safe...”

Wether it is a conscious things or not, he returns your embrace fiercely, holding tightly as he looks up at you. It almost feels like he wants to make sure you really are there. And won’t go anywhere. Like everyone else did in his life. 

Jason was tired of losing those close to him. Those he cared about. Sometimes, he’d push them away, by fear of getting attached again just for life to rip them away from him. So he held onto you, as you held him back. 

Tightly against your heart. 

“Mom...” 

This was the day Jason Todd realized something very important : He wasn’t alone anymore. He had parents who loved him, and he loved them back. 

So much. 

And they’d never let him go. Never. 

************

Years later, this love he had for you and Bruce, turned out to be the very reason he became “Red Hood”. 

From that day he told you : “you’re not my real mom !”, he felt like he belonged. Like finally, the people he loved loved him back. Like he was cherished. And then Bruce didn’t avenge him. He let Joker get away. And you let him do it. You, the people he trusted and loved most in the world, betrayed him...

He felt like he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Bruce breaking his one rule to avenge him. He wasn’t worth it...He didn’t matter enough. 

Jason felt so angry. For years. He wanted to hurt you, to hurt Bruce. To show you what it felt like. What HE felt like. 

But Jason has always been a strong one. You knew it. You told him enough times : “you’re a fighter, my Jason. You went through so much, and always came out of it. You lost a lot on the way my little one, but you never give up. You never give up...” 

You never give up. 

Love. 

It’s what drove him to become the Red Hood. It’s what drove him over the edge. What gave him so much pain. 

Rather, the feeling of not being loved. The thought all you and Bruce said to him, about how much you cared and loved him, was a lie. 

Yes. The thought that you lied about loving him, is what broke him. What made him find every way possible to truly, truly hurt you two.

You never give up. 

He was so angry. But he never could quite give up on his family...that’s why he didn’t stay with the Al’ghuls. That why they didn’t keep him. 

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on. 

He could never. 

Jason was a strong lad. Strong enough to see past his hate and need of revenge. His pain. His deep trauma. 

It took a while. But the change came from him. He’s the one that gave you another chance. And it allowed him to realize...nothing was a lie.

And you got your son back.

Because you showed him. You showed him nothing was a lie.

When his dad never gave up on him even as he killed more and more people, and even as Jason saw him completely erase people who used to be close from him as soon as they killed once. When you refused to let him go. When Bruce kept going back, even as he knew Jason would fight him and try to hurt him. When you pleaded with him, even when you knew his answer would be the same... 

Jason never gave up. 

But you didn’t either. 

“You’re not my mom”, are words he never meant. Not even once. Not even when he was the “old” Red Hood, the one that killed mercilessly any criminals, and that was trying to be exactly what Batman wasn’t. 

“You’re not my mom”, even at his worst, at a time he suffered greatly, Jason never meant it. He never did. 

And ultimately, it’s this filial love, and the love you and Bruce had for him, that brought him back out of the dark pit the Joker pushed him in...

TIM 

Tim knew that his overly pragmatic mind sometimes could make him sound tactless. That he had trouble, sometimes, expressing himself properly. 

He knew that what he said, although it could be the factual truth, could be perceived as not being very nice... 

He knew, yet sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. 

“But you’re not my mom.” 

He told you that day, as you asked when was the “mother/child day” at school. 

Tim’s school had a day each year, during which every mother would come and do different activities with their kids. You did it with Dick and Jason, and it was always great fun, and amazing bonding time. 

By then, Tim had been with you and Bruce for over a year now. And he did, see you as his mom. However, he was a little too set, at the time, on rules and specifics. In the “mother/child day” rulebook, it “specifically” said that the actual child’s mother had to come, not the nanny or anyone else. 

In Tim’s mind, although he did see you as his mom, he thought the school wouldn’t. For him, the way the rules were written, were clearly stating his birth mother had to come. And the official adoption papers were not processed yet. Those took quite a while. 

He had been living with you for over a year. He called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. He truly considered you two his parents. But the official papers were not done quite yet. So to him, in the eye of the law (be it a silly school rule), you weren’t his mom quite yet. 

So when he said : “but you’re not my mom”, that’s what he meant. Of course, you misunderstood...

How could you guess that Tim was thinking that only his “birth mother” could take him, because officially right now he didn’t have a mom, just “guardians”...

His mother was dead. Has been dead for a while, now. And even if she wasn’t, Tim knew she’d never come at this event...She wasn’t the caring type of mother. Not like you. Which is why it really bummed him out that those rules were so clearly stated like that !

What Tim misunderstood, is that this specific rule had been added to the rulebook because many family would send their nanny, or a big sister, instead of the mom. Because Tim was of course in Gotham’s Academy, full of rich families, in which the moms were very busy...

Which is why such a day existed. Some kids spend quality times with their mom only on this school day. Nowadays, everyone made an effort to come (the fact you appeared, the famed (Y/N) Wayne, a few years back, with Dick, and it made all the papers’ headlines, might’ve influenced others to participate too).

To tell the truth, Tim was very disappointed that you couldn’t go with him, and was considering asking the principle of the school to do an exception to the rule and allow you to go with him.  

He was already fomenting a plan in his head to convince the headmaster to let you come as his mom, and as usual when he was planning things out, he completely disconnected from reality. 

And therefor, didn’t see how your face “closed”, and your eyes turned sad. The boy was typing away on his computer, as if nothing had just happened, as if you didn’t feel your world crumble as he flat out told you you weren’t his mom...

Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. He meant it as “officially”. Not about his actual feelings. 

For some reason, the way he said it so nonchalantly hurts you more than when Dick and Jason yelled at you that you “weren't their mom”. Because at least, in your eldests’ cases, you knew it was in the heat of the moment. 

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad. 

But Tim just told you : “But you’re not my mom.” matter of factly, and moved on. And it hurt. 

It hurt so much, because that boy...You loved that boy, of course. And considered him your son for sure. Part of your heart, now. Part of your family. And he felt so far, right now...so far... 

You left the room and he didn’t even notice. 

Did he really not see you as his mom ? Was he just calling you “mom” to imitate his brothers ? ...You didn’t know, but it hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

************

You found Bruce in his office, doing some paperworks for Wayne Inc. When he saw your face, he immediately smiled, your presence lighting his whole world...But then he saw your expression, and he frowned. 

“What happened ?” 

************

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?” 

Tim had been looking for you for the past hour, but wasn’t able to find you. You weren't in all your favorite places ! Did you leave the Manor without telling him ? It was unlike you. 

Finally, he found you. You were in a room that was rarely used, but which was conveniently close to Bruce’s office, and had a couch. 

Laying on top of your husband, you were fast asleep as Bruce was going through his paperworks, letting you holding onto his waist as he kept working. 

When he saw the boy come in the room, he smiled at him. And it was hard, not to smile at Tim, seeing his own big wide smile. 

Tim was missing a few teeth, that fell not long ago, and it was absolutely the cutest, when he smiled widely. He looked so happy, eyes sparkly and genuine smile. It felt wrong to Bruce, to think that this sweet boy didn’t see you as his mom...

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding ? Wouldn’t be the first time. Although, Bruce knew how sometimes Tim could be brutally honest, and say the facts in a matter of factly way that could be very harsh on the uninitiated. 

Your son was holding a cardboard sheet almost as big as him, and looked very excited about something. He slowly approached you two, and said, whispering, yet the excitement was clear in his voice : 

“Has she been asleep for long, dad ?!” 

He called Bruce dad. Without an hesitation. And it felt so genuine. Like he was relishing in the word rolling off of his tongue. And it was often the case, with Tim. His parents, when they were still alive, never really noticed his presence... 

And sometimes, it could be even worst to have parents who acted as if you didn’t exist, than caring parents who passed away. Bruce realized this. 

“No, she just closed her eyes.” 

Bruce answers, looking at you. And oh he couldn’t possibly know how soft his expressions as as he gazed at your sleeping face. 

“Oh...” 

Tim was clearly disappointed. His shoulders fell down, and he looked on the floor, looking defeated.

“What is it, champ ?” 

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !” 

The rumbling of your husband’s chest as he spoke is what woke you up. Not the actual sound of their voices, just that low vibrations reverberating in his chest. 

You opened one eye, then the second, and was greeted by your youngest son’s face being very close to you. As Tim saw you were waking up, he kneeled down next to the couch, settling his piece of cardboard next to him, and approached you very closely. 

His smile and sweet expression filled your vision. And you felt even more hurt, as you saw him so happy to see you, to know he didn’t really think you were his mom. 

It was clear he cared for you. And loved you, and being with you. But to him...You weren’t his mom. And that was so painful. 

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !” 

A...Plan ? For what ? You don’t even have time to ask him, and, still a little hazy as you just woke up from a short nap (that you took after crying exhausted you), you raise a little from your husband. 

You exchange a curious look with him, as you see Tim spring to his feet and get a hold of the piece of cardboard that is almost as tall and large as him. 

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops. 

It’s a lot of very detailed drawings, maps and words about...about...

“This is how we’re going to convince the headmaster of my school that you’re really my mom, even if officially you’re not yet !! I thought we could start with logic first, and then go down the path of pathos if he really doesn’t change his mind !” 

What ? Your brain is trying really hard to comprehend what’s happening, although it is starting to put two and two together. 

“The rules say that the mom HAS to be the one who comes, and the way they wrote it suggest that they wouldn’t accept someone who isn’t yet official. But I think we could convince that, in our heart, we’re already an official family, right ?!” 

Tim looks at you, and then at his dad, a little worry in his eyes (what if for them, he wasn’t their son yet because the paperworks weren’t finished and officials quite yet ?!?!). Bruce cannot help but smile, and nods, feeling his heart melt (a rare occurrence). 

And you. You have exactly the reaction he expected you’d have. You sit up, put the cardboard aside, and drag your son into a tight hug that makes him giggle and exclaim : 

“Hahaha mom wait I can’t breaaaathe !! Mom !!” 

But he hugs you back, knowing that this means yes, you do consider him your son already, paperworks or not, and you will probably follow his plan to convince the school to-

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?” 

You can’t explain it to him. You feel silly, but also so emotional and touched. You thought he didn’t think of you as his mom. But he did. Oh he did, and was actually worried about technicalities of rules and...So sweet. That boy is so sweet. 

Carefully, Tim dries your tears, and look curiously at his dad, his eyes clearly asking : “Did I do something wrong ?”

You’re still unable to speak, as you hold onto him, and Bruce ruffles his son’s hair saying : 

“She’s just too happy, champ. She’s just too happy.” 

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !” 

She screamed. You never heard Cass raised her voice before. And yet, here, she screamed at you. And then closed her bedroom door right on your nose. 

And you felt it in your heart. That specific pain that you wished you’d never feel again. That kind of hurt you wished you’d never feel ever again. 

It happened just liked it did with Dick and Jason. You were “lecturing” her about putting herself in needless danger, and she felt frustrated at the fact you “didn’t trust her”. 

It wasn’t true of course. You did trust her. And you knew she could hold her own. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t worry, and scold her if she really scared you... 

It was pure instinct. You couldn’t stop yourself from telling them off when you felt they went too far. You did it with Bruce too. 

Once, he threw himself in the way of a bullet to save you, and once he recovered enough...Oh you were so mad at him. 

It’s not that you wanted to take that bullet, of course. You knew it was also instinct that made him move to save you. But in truth, you would rather take a thousand bullet than lose any of them. Bruce, or your children. 

And sometimes, it was hard for them to understand this. To get why you were so worried, when you accepted fully their night activities. 

Why you monitored the batcomputer, if it was to scold them when they put themselves in danger ? 

Ah but they didn’t understand that you only got “mad” when they put themselves in NEEDLESS danger. Pushing themselves too far that one night, being careless with something, ignoring their own safety to finish a task... 

You couldn’t help but be afraid. And your fear turned into you scolding them. And sometimes, on each sides, things boiled and...

“You, not my mom !” 

The meaning was clear. As Cass slammed her door right in your face, you knew not to push it further, not to tell her anything more. 

Maybe you should’ve ? Should’ve open her door, and continue lecturing her so she’d understand her life was valuable ? 

Cass put herself in danger more than any other member of your family, because she was raised as a weapon and thought of herself as an “expendable”. You weren’t mad at her for this, of course not (but oh, David Cain probably should never cross your path, it wasn’t pretty, when you were truly angry). 

You were just worried. And unfortunately, being a parent was complicated and sometimes, your worry turned a little overbearing for your kids. 

This was a mistake every normal caring parents made. Wanting what was best for their children, sometimes not realizing they’re going too far. And you ? Your family wasn’t normal. 

Your children were vigilantes. Your worries were tuned up to the max.  

Being a parent was hard. And sometimes, both you and your kids were frustrated. It happened. In any family. 

It was resolved rather fast, most of the time. A little conversation, understanding and indulgence, and boom. Sorted. 

However, there were times when things would go a little too far. Wether because one of you was tired, or didn’t feel well etc etc...

Tonight, was such a time. 

“You, not my mom !” 

Cass didn’t even register what she said. She was just mad and frustrated, and said the first thing that came into her mind. Her hand slammed the door shut before she could even think about it. 

And here you were. In the corridor. In front of your daughter’s door. 

Hurt. And feeling as devastated as you did when her brothers told you the same thing. You would think, after a few times of this happening, it’d be easier, right ? Well. No. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

As usual in those instances, you went to seek comfort in the arms of your husband. 

************

Cassandra didn’t feel ok. 

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt that bad. 

When she went to look for you and apologize for her behavior, she found you in her dad’s arms, crying, and it made her run away...

She couldn’t face you, knowing she truly hurt you like that. 

The worst thing is, she knew she would hurt you by saying those words. Yet she still did it. It was as if she couldn’t control herself. It was like an ugly force took over her, and made her say those words. 

But she knew. She knew she’s the one who ultimately decided to say them. She’s the one that pronounced them. Under the anger. 

Anger. 

The ugly force. 

She turned around in her bed, holding onto the plush toy you gave her shortly after her arrival. You said “every child should have one” and that this one made you think of her. 

It was a fox with bright colors. And it still smelled like you. 

She was about to fall asleep, when she heard a knock on her door. 

“Can we come in ?” 

It was her older brothers. 

Dick, Jason and Tim. 

It was rare, to have them all in the same place nowadays, what with how busy they all were. Dick with Bludhäven, Jason with the gods only knew what really (the gods, and you and Bruce...but sshhh, that’s a secret), and Tim with college applications. 

So Cass immediately understood that they heard about the fight she had with their mom. 

And she felt a rush of shame come over her. She felt sad too, because maybe they’d be mad at her ?

Cassandra didn’t think she could bear to break your heart, and have her precious brothers mad at her all in the same day. 

She almost told them to leave. But she didn’t have the strength. 

They surrounded her, and their presence was so...soothing. 

And then they spoke. They each told her the story of the time they told their mom those few dreaded words. 

“You’re not my real mom !” 

They told her how awful they felt, and how they knew they hurt their mom. They told her that...well, they did have the best mom ever. 

You never held any grudge. Ever. Especially not against your own family. 

You never even mentioned again the fact they told you this awful thing, you never even mentioned once this, under any circumstances. 

Her brothers stayed with her for hours, talking about their feelings on the matter. Telling her it happened. That everyone wasn’t always on their best behavior...

It was hard, for Cass, to not be “good”. She did so many awful things when her biological father raised her to be a weapon, she felt like she had to catch up so much on those years of “badness”. 

She often felt like she was evil, and could never caught up to everything. Like she was doomed, and could never become good. 

On that, Jason told her she was wrong. That everyone could change, and no one was born truly evil. Environment, and the way you’re raised, matter. And what she did...wasn’t her fault. She was forced to. If she really enjoyed doing this she’d never become a Batgirl. She would never be part of this family. 

She often felt like she was a bad daughter. 

On that, Dick told her she was wrong. He too, felt like a bad son, when he “replaced” his parents with you and Bruce. He too, felt like a bad son when he would get so mad while you would do anything to make him happy. He too, felt like a bad son...on so many occasions. But he grew. And thanks to you mainly, he realized he was just human. Mistakes are human. And it’s not being a bad son, to sometimes feel so hurt that you lash out. That your trauma are so strong, things sometimes are tough. 

She often felt like she couldn’t fit in, and would never fit in. 

On that, Tim told her she was wrong. Him too, felt too different. He already had parents, they were alive, he just wanted to help, he didn’t have any friends...But in this family. In this family, everyone fitted in. Because you made it so. Bruce made it saw. You both accepted any flaws, and differences your kids might have. You loved them unconditionally, they all knew that by now. 

And Cass...Cass didn’t want to hurt you. 

They knew that, too.

It was an accident. In the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean it. Of course, you are her mom. Of course...

It felt good, to have her brothers there for her, when you couldn’t be. 

************

Later that night, after her brothers left, Cass slowly exits her room and take the known way to yours and Bruce’s. 

You are both there, and she knows her dad stayed because you felt bad. He always stayed with you, when you were feeling down. And vice versa.

Cass always told herself that, later, if she ever found a significant other, she’d want her and them to have the same kind of relationships than you. You and Bruce set up a rather high standard for whoever would come into her life. 

But that was another story. For now, she was opening the door slowly, scared of waking you up. But you were awake. 

Bruce was asleep, deeply. As usual when he felt your warmth against him. But you were not. Cass could see you slowly and absentmindedly caress your husband’s hair. It was soothing to both of you. His silky smooth dark hair were soft in between your fingers, and helped you get your mind off of the pain and focus on the sensation, while for him...Well, it put him asleep, when you did that. 

The door creaked a little, and you abruptly turned your head towards it, ready to fight and...You instantly recognize your daughter, even in the dark of the room. 

She doesn’t need to talk. You manage to roll over Bruce, who then by instinct roll too, and therefor you create a little spot for your daughter to climb in bed with you. 

You turn around in Bruce’s arms, and slowly wrap them around your middle, instead of your shoulders. You turn towards Cass, your back against Bruce’s chest, and tap the small spot you managed to create next to you. 

Cass understands, and climbs in, facing you. She lays her head on her arms, as you do the same. And then she mouthes : 

“Sorry mom...” 

And that’s all you needed. You gesture for your daughter to cuddle up close, and she does. By instinct, Bruce lets go one arm off of you, and grabs his kid to bring her closer. He is still asleep, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone that his subconscious holds onto the two most important women in his life like so. 

And there she is. Cass feels safe. And warm. And she hears your heart beat softly. And she knows it partly beats for her. 

And partly for Bruce. And partly for Dick. And partly for Jason. And Tim. And Damian. And Duke. And Alfred. 

It beats for your family. 

For her family.

Family. 

She has a family. 

And you are her mom. 

Her biological father never hugged her, never told her everything was going to be alright, never... 

Cass never felt safe and warm. 

Like she did, right now, held by both you and Bruce. 

“Family...”

She whispers, as she slowly falls asleep. And you’re the only mom she ever wants to have. You are, her real mom. Always have been, always will be. 

DAMIAN 

Damian didn’t really think this was a big deal, at first. 

Just like his father, he often made the mistake to think that people around him will simply understand his true meaning. 

When he told you : “You’re not even my real mom !”, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was angry because you told him he couldn’t go out on patrol for a few days, as he was grounded for skipping school and going to work on cases instead. 

“But school is boring, I already know everything ??” 

“It’s the principle of it, Damian. You can’t just do what you want whenever you want, this is not how it works. I don’t feel like we’re extremely strict parents, so when you betray our trusts like that, it has consequences.”

Bruce kept out of the argument, ready to jump in however if you needed him to affirm  that yes, actions have consequences and although you two are pretty lax with your son on many fronts, he still has to listen. You and Bruce made clear rules when you first adopted Dick, because you realized your lifestyle was anything but normal, but it didn’t mean your children could just do anything they wanted. 

Neither of you wanted them to turn into privileged little brats. Or to think they were above everything. And you were right, by skipping school so much, and lying about it, Damian did betray your trust. 

Understanding actions had consequences was a big step that took a while, with Damian. Unfortunately, he grew up in an environment that indeed taught him he could do whatever he wanted, no matter if he hurt people on the way... 

Unlearning all this, was tough. And you understood that. Which is why you let things go a lot, with him, and only slowly told him about things. Gradually teaching him about your values and principles. 

However sometimes, like in this case, you needed to be firm and strict, because otherwise he’d just keep doing it knowing it had no bad consequences, and you didn’t want him to simply not go to school anymore...School was important for his social development, you realized it as he made friends and...

And simply, an eleven years old kid couldn’t just roam around all day as he saw fit. That’s it. And so here you were, trying to explain this to him. And that’s when he said it. 

He scrunched up his nose like he always did when he was angry, and then, turning his head away from you, throwing his Robin boots at the back of the cave. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real mom !” 

And then he bolted out of the Batcave, leaving you behind, with a broken heart and feeling guilty...What if he hates you, because you were too harsh on him ? 

Bruce, that night, did not go out on patrol either, and stayed with you. Of course, he did. 

************

The fact he still listened to you and didn’t go out, made him thought you knew he was just angry and didn’t mean a word of it. 

To him, it was so obvious he thought of you as his mom, and that he said this just because he wanted to have the last word, that he honestly didn’t think much of it. 

Sure he was frustrated and angry, just like any kid was when their parents said : “no” to them. But he didn't mean it... 

He didn’t really see you of the entire day. Finally, he decided to go see his father to ask him what was up. 

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?” 

“She doesn’t seem ok.” 

“Do you know why ?” 

“Did you do something to upset her ?” 

Normally, Bruce would feel vex at this statement. What, did he really do things to upset you that often ? Yes and now. Sometimes,  he would get on your nerve, and vice versa. It happened, in relationships.

But it was never anything major. Not anymore at least. Because now, when he had his “dark days” and could be a total jerk, you knew how to handle him. You knew not to take his bullshit. 

Yes. Normally, Bruce would pout like a child, at the fact his son thought that his mom was feeling down because of him. But not today. No. 

Because he knew that what made you sad, was something important.

Unfortunately, Damian inherited from him his bad habit of thinking others will understand his meaning. 

Like, when he tried to push you away at first so you wouldn't get involved in his crazy life, what he really wanted was for you to get closer...Or when he told you that he was fine at times, all he wanted was for you to hold him and take care of him etc etc...The first time he told you “I love you”, wasn’t with words, but by not going on patrol one night, to stay with you. And he thought you’d immediately understand that he truly loved you...Truth was, it wasn’t as obvious to you (or anyone really) than it was for him. 

And Damian had the same problem. Doing things that he thought would obviously tell his meaning, his real feelings, when really...No one but him would get it. 

Although you became quite good at deciphering your husband’s true intentions, you could still misinterpret things sometimes. 

And yesterday night, when you grounded your son and tried to teach him a life lesson...You definitely didn’t see that he didn’t mean what he said and just wanted the last word. For you, he was seriously meaning it. And that’s why you were avoiding him a little, because it was too hard to...to... 

Damian’s words truly hurt you. You often were scared he could never see you as his mom (even if he did call you mom now and clearly cared for you) because of how he grew up. You’d never give up on him, of course, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed you away or pretended to not care... 

Damian thought it was obvious, that his actions actually reflected how much you meant to him. That without you, he’d be lost and honestly wouldn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t. 

But it wasn’t obvious. 

Bruce sighed, and then smiled : 

“Since when is she acting odd ?” 

“This morning. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she went to work !”

It felt like such a serious issue to your boy, in that instant, that Bruce wished you were there to see his reaction. You’d instantly know he didn’t mean it, when he said you weren’t his mom... 

But you couldn’t quite face him. You didn’t really avoid him or try to hurt him by not saying goodbye. Of course not, you were an adult, and you definitely knew that doing to others what was done to you is pointless, and mean. And why hurt someone the same way they hurt you ? You’re no better than them uh... 

“Can you think of anything that might’ve upset her ?” 

“I spilled my milk a little, but cleaned it after. I didn’t let Alfred do it like last time. I woke up a minute late, too. Jason hasn’t called in two days, but he was there yesterday afternoon. Dick said she messed up her pumpkin soup but he was just joking and she knows. Tim fell asleep at the breakfast table. You clinging to her this morning apparently made her late, I heard Alfred say it. Um...Cass um...Cass didn’t do anything bad really...None of those things sound like it would upset her though ! She really looked sad this morning, not like herself at all !” 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It was pretty cute, how Damian often acted as if he didn’t care about anything, yet no details would ever go past him. Especially not when it came to his family. He always noticed, when one of them felt down in any way, and tried to help (in his own way). 

Hell, he probably woke Tim up and told him to sleep more and take care of himself. Called Jason and told him to call his mom. Scolded Dick to not make this kind of jokes again. 

This was just the Damian that was privy only to them. A sweet child, who unfortunately often had trouble expressing his true feelings. 

Just like his father. 

Damian would often brag about his siblings, and how awesome they were, to his friends (notably to Jon, who didn’t have any siblings). But he’d never tell them right in front of their face. 

Bruce tried to help Damian see what was wrong, and said : 

“What about last night ?” 

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !” 

Damian replayed the events in his head, and remembered his anger and frustration. But most importantly...What he told his mom. 

“I have to find mom ! Where is she ?!” 

Damian looked absolutely panicked, which was quite unlike him. Bruce answered : 

“She’s at work, she had a meeting with her editor. She should be back soon, though.” 

And on that note, Damian ran out to do god knew what, as Bruce shook his head and...Well, he just knew things would turn out alright. 

************

Alfred almost fainted, when he saw Damian tear off his beautiful flowers from his garden. He almost ran out, and had a very “get off my lawn !” moment...up until he realized that the boy was probably doing this for a reason. 

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.  

Hopefully, this really was for a good reason. A very good one. One so good, that it would stop him from strangling his grandkid, hopefully...

************

When you came home, Damian was waiting for you at the front door. He had a bunch of lilies in his hands (that you were pretty sure were from Alfred’s precious garden) and he looked absolutely frantic. 

He ran to you, almost threw the flowers in your arms, and yelled : 

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT !! YOU ARE MY REAL MOM ! I WAS JUST ANGRY ! I’M SORRY !!” 

You were a little confused as to why he was yelling, but before you could continue he took a drawing out of his pocket and added : 

“THIS IS A DRAWING OF YOU ! I MADE IT FOR YOU !! YOU ARE MY MOM ! YOU REALLY ARE ! PLEASE FORGIVE ME !! I’M SORRY !! DO NOT BE MAD AT ME !!” 

Still confused as to why he was screaming, you bend down to look at him eye level, settled the flowers on the floor, and said : 

“It’s ok Damian. It’s ok. We all get frustrated sometimes...I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but it’s ok. It happens.” 

Damian’s face showed great relief, and he leaped into your arms, yelling : 

“I LOVE YOU !!” 

You winced as he screamed in your ear, and said : 

“Why are you yelling, little one ?” 

Damian took a step back from you and said : 

“BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF AND JASON TOLD ME THAT SAYING THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY MIGHT HELP !! AND HE’S RIGHT !! I LOVE YOU !!”

Damian told you he loved you before, in certain moments. When he got really hurt, when you were really hurt, if he felt really sad...It was always a moment full of emotions. And it was still rather hard for him to say the words. 

It didn’t really surprise you that Jason would have such a technique. Yelling his feelings. Yep. Sounds like him alright. And it did seem like it worked for his little brother too. 

Only you and your close family would know, because you were the only ones to truly know him, but those two were more similar than others would think. And it wasn’t because they already killed before. Oh no. On the contrary. 

“I love you too, my little one...” 

You say, as he goes back for another hug, clearly relieved you’re not mad at him. From this day on, he swore to himself that he would really try to tell others’ what he truly felt, even if it meant yelling it at them. Because other wise...otherwise it’d create this sort of terrible situations, in which his mom thought he didn’t think of her as his mom ! 

He couldn’t have it, anymore. Many “I LOVE YOU !!” were heard in the Manor, from that point on. 

DUKE 

“You know you can tell me anything, right ?” 

Duke doesn’t know why this time, this made him snap. 

Today was the anniversary of when his parents got “jokerize”, it had been two years already...And not one step closer to cure them ! He was so frustrated, sad, and lost. And you noticed. 

Duke tend to try to keep things inside. Not that he didn’t want to bother anyone, more like he just thought he HAD to handle things himself. Like it would make him stronger, and therefor, he could protect those he cares about. 

He could protect them, unlike when he could do nothing but watch as his parents fell into madness...He couldn’t bear the thought of this happening to you, Bruce, or any member of this family ! Not again. 

He couldn’t bear it...

“You’re not even my mom ! Stop acting like you are !” 

Are the words he heard himself scream at you as you asked him if everything was ok, and if he needed to talk. As you were caring, once again, and he just couldn’t...he couldn’t stand it ! Not today.

Not today. 

He immediately saw on your face the way you shut down, and took one step behind. The way your face “closed”, and as you said : “I understand.” and left the room, your body stiff and your face inexpressive (which was very unlike you), Duke felt it. 

The guilt. 

Right away.

When those dreaded words were said by all your other kids, they were young. They were all under the age of ten, and the immediate consequences of their actions didn’t truly registered. 

But Duke. 

Duke was almost eighteen. And he knew. He knew he hurt you. 

He felt the need to run after you and apologized, but there was something stopping him. 

After all, it was true right, you weren’t his mom ! His mom was still alive, and she could be cured one day ! HE ALREADY HAVE A MOM ! 

So what if you always cooked him his favorite meal, or knew exactly what his favorite food was ? So what if you would go out of your way to grab his favorite burger from his favorite joints when you knew he felt down ? 

So what, if you were always there when he was sad ? Cheering him up with comfort food, kind words, and just your presence ? 

So what if you knew exactly what would make him feel better, which movie to put on to put a smile on his face ? 

So what, if you spend entire night right by his bedside when he got really hurt, or when he was sick ? 

So what if you’d listen to him at any time of the day or night, and always took time to give him your thoughts on the matter, and truly, truly listen to what he was saying instead of waiting for your turn to speak ? 

So what if you’d make him laugh, smile, feel loved, even as he felt so alone and isolated, especially after he discovered his powers ? 

So what if you never made him feel like he was different because of it ? 

So what if you opened your house’s door without a second thought for this unknown teenager who was also a meta ?!

So what...so what...so what if you obviously cared a lot, and if you...if you... 

He already had a mom. And she might get better one day. 

He couldn’t have two moms. 

...

...

Right ? 

What would happen when his parents would be cured ? Forget all his feelings for the Waynes ? So it’d be easier to pretend he wasn’t part of the family, right ? 

It would be easier. 

Yes. 

But it was too late. 

It was too late... 

He ran after you. Caught up with you in the corridor. Tears in his eyes, he said : 

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

And fell into your arms. Almost eighteen years old, yes, but still needed the support of a mother. Of his mother. 

And you were there. You’d always be there, no matter what happened in the future. And he needed you, especially in that moment of frustration, where he really missed his parents, and was starting to lose hope to ever find a cure... 

And you were there.

Who ever made a rule that you could have only one mom anyway, right ?

BRUCE 

They did tell him “you’re not my dad !” too. And for him, it was as terrible as for you. If not worst, on certain aspect. Especially since he had a hard times truly expressing his feelings more often than not. 

He knows how devastating it can feel. He knows it even more, because not only did he feel it as they told him “you’re not my dad !”, but he also felt it as he told Alfred “you’re not my dad !”. He knew the feelings from both sides. 

It enhanced everything. 

Of course, in general, Bruce always felt things more than anyone else around him. He was born like that. Hypersensitive. That’s why he worked so much on hiding his true feelings, and appearing detached and cold. 

It’s much easier, than to always being overemotional. Of course, it didn’t mean he felt nothing. On the contrary, he felt everything. He was just better, nowadays, at pretending he was okay. At pretending he didn’t care. 

Ah. But you existed. 

You. 

The only person that could always see through his bullshit, and know when he was lying and fake smiling. 

Between the two of you, there has always been something. Even before you were together. It was an irrational and irresistible attraction. 

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others. 

You have no idea how you’d live without him. And he couldn’t even fathom a world without you. It’s a world he wouldn’t like very much...  

Even during the worst times, and oh you went through a lot together, you knew at least...at least you’d have warm arms to fall asleep in. At least, you’d have each others. 

Bruce had known pain so strong he sometimes wished death would just take him away. And then you came in. Ready to put up with his shit, and to not give up on him even when he gave you every reason to. 

And oh, oh he gave you back everything times a thousand. You knew he’d never let you fall. Not alone. 

Whenever something hurtful as your children telling you two you weren’t their real parents happened...It’s when you truly realized how vital you were to each others. 

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you. 

When he fell, you were there to catch him. 

Better to fall together, than to stand alone. 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if you want to ^^. I’m a little afraid I disappointed y’all for some reasons haha. I couldn’t explain. Self-confidence crisis hahaha. I finished writing that late, and exhausted after a hard week, maybe it plays into account ? Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed your time reading this :). And thanks for reading, of course ^^. 

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Batman x Reader #Batmom #Batfam x Reader #Batkids x reader #Batfam imagine #Batmom x Batfam #Batfam #Batfamily #Richard Grayson x Reader #Jason Todd x Reader #Tim Drake x reader #Cassandra Cain x Reader #Damian Wayne x Reader #Duke Thomas x Reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Richard Grayson imagine #Batfamily imagine #Jason Todd imagine #Tim Drake imagine #Cass Cain imagine #Damian Wayne imagine #Duke Thomas imagine #Nightwing x reader #Red Hood x reader #Robin x Reader #Red Robin x Reader #Signal x Reader #Batgirl x Reader #Fem!Reader

[damiano-mylove]

Movie Night

Pairing: Damiano David x fem!reader

Wc: 2.6k (sorry)

Cw(s): SMUT, bit of angst, swearing ofc, long for some reason, begging, not proof read

*Masterlist*

Work is a healthy habit to get into - to a certain extent. If you work to avoid your problems, that's not particularly one of the most healthy things to do. The only problem working can fix is if you're poor, but really minimum wage doesn't fix that either.

But your Damiano wasn't poor, he wasn't being paid minimum wage. You knew how much he loved working on music with his friends, but he was barely home and you missed him. Being without Damiano almost felt like being without your left arm - especially since it had been so abrupt, going from him spending a few hours writing, to spending almost a full day in the studio.

Tonight was supposed to be movie night. That Damiano had suggested. To make up for lost time.

So, you found yourself, alone, on your velvet red couch, watching Alice in Wonderland, with your cat on your lap. His purrs filled whatever wavelengths were left empty by the film, but you didn't mind that at all. Your fingers found their way into his incredibly soft fur, which felt like silk between those fingers of yours.

The clock soon struck midnight, and the film hit the end credits soon after. Damiano was still not home from the studio, which almost worried you. Almost. In the earlier days of him spending all of his time at Vic's for writing or in the studio, you had thought he'd run off with someone else. You woke up the next morning with him next to you, but that never really put that specific worry to rest.

"Romeo, Baby," you whispered to the silver tabby cat on your lap. He flicked his tail to let you know he heard you. "Dad's not home yet and I'm tired, we gotta go to bed. C'mon." Romeo only lifted his head to lay his grass green eyes on you once you stopped scratching his neck. You smiled to him, though his eyes didn't return it. "You've got half a minute before I move your furry tush."

To no one's surprise, Romeo took more than half a minute so you picked him up like a baby over your shoulder. Your palm cradled his soft feet. Like the lazy cat he was, Romeo fell back asleep on your shoulder on your short walk to your bedroom that you shared with the one and only, Damiano. He used to be a god to you, but now he was basically a roommate who you shared a kiss with every once in a while.

With Romeo asleep on the bed before you finished putting on pyjamas, you slunk off to brush your teeth. The door unlocked. Your heavy eyes cast unto the clock on the wall which read nearly half midnight.

Damiano came in like a whisper in the wind, save for the closet opening so he could deposit his coat. Shaking you head, you just finished brushing your teeth. Your mouth felt dry even though you'd just rinsed it with water.

"Cara mia," Damiano purred once his eyes caught your figure in the lamp light from the bedroom. You smiled at him and went into the bedroom to curl up with your cat and go to sleep. You had work in the morning and customers didn't appreciate workers who look like sleep-deprived zombies.

This was the first time in a long time that you didn't immediately greet him once he came through the door. So Damiano could sense a shift in the mood of the flat; really, he felt it as soon as he walked in and smelt chocolate and strong tea.

His footsteps never gave away where he was, but you could feel his presence enter the room. The bed dipped on the end just as Romeo curled further into you. When Damiano's hand held your ankle, Romeo let out a soft meow.

"What's wrong, Amore?"

"Did you forget or did you do it on purpose?" You immediately sat up as you asked the question. You were tired and to act like it was fine just wasn't in the cards tonight. Damiano's eyebrows drew together. You began to nod. "Movie night? You said you'd come home early to watch a film with us."

Damiano's face darkened in realization. You pursed your lip balm coated lips. Even Romeo could sense the tension and decided to stand up and sit square on your thighs, facing your boyfriend as if to protect you. Damiano looked to his hands which rested in his lap.

After a second, he said, "I-I thought that was tomorrow."

"Tonight was Tuesday night, now it's Wednesday morning," you muttered. Your fingers found the reassuring warmth of Romeo's fur once again and Romeo let out a rather sad sounding meow. "Oh, Romeo, don't worry. Dad just has to tell us he's sorry then we can sleep."

Both you and your cat looked to your boyfriend with tired but expectant eyes. Damiano's eyes never tore from his hands. Then it was like he was speaking to himself. "I was going to buy you flowers. And let you pick the film. And you were supposed to fall asleep on my shoulder, on the couch."

"It's okay, Dami, it's just a movie night," you told him. But your conscience caught you before you continued. Why the fuck were you reassuring him when he was the one who fucked up? Tell you that he'll be home in time for a sort of date night, then skip out. "We'll do it another night, it's all good."

"It's not all good, Y/n." One thing you could agree on tonight, though you'd never say that out loud. Finally, Damiano lifted his eyes from his soft hands. You noticed his eyes shimmer in the lamplight. "I really fucked up your night and for no good reason. I'm really sorry."

Leaning forward, you patted his arm. "Forgiven. We're adults and life gets in the way of romance."

"Not always, and not for us. I'm supposed to be the best boyfriend in the world but I've barely been a boyfriend to you at all lately, and I apologize." His words were stringing together faster in faster as he kept trying to keep his tears at bay. "It's just with the new album and everything, I'm finding out how shitty I am at balancing my life." Damiano came closer to you, holding your hand that once held his arm. "How can I make it up to you, Y/n? You're the love of my life and I don't want us to fizzle out."

For some reason, a little chuckle escaped your lips. His passion for you warmed your heart as you caught a glimpse of how you first had your heart captured by the man sitting before you. The light glittered in your eyes, for Damiano and Damiano alone. "We're not going to fizzle out over one missed movie night."

"Yes, but I've missed many of our nights, whether we made plans for them or not," Damiano rebutted. Your lips pressed together in a flat line. There was a certain ounce of truth to that statement. Damiano pressed a kiss to the back of your hand without maintaining eye contact. "Cara mia, nights are for the lovers, and I seem to have forgotten that."

His warm breath tickled the back of your hand just before his pressed more kisses to the back of your hand, then wrist, then fingers.

Sensing the warming room, Romeo left your lap. He threw you a final glance, seeming like he was making sure you didn't need him in the room to which you slightly nodded at the tabby. Romeo turned on his paws and left the room - leaving two starry-eyed partners who were still most ardently in love.

Without another word, you joined your lips with Damiano's. It had been a long while since a kiss such as this one had occurred. In the place of the usual passing kisses, this one made the love shared prominent. This kiss felt as if your Damiano was once again yours and totally yours; not as if he ever wasn't, but this was a much needed reminder of that.

Holding your face in his large hands, Damiano deepened the kiss by turning his head ever-so slightly. His tongue slid into your mouth with a passionate fervour. There was no battle for dominance, but a mutual exploration of each other's mouths.

Damiano tenderly laid you down against the pillows on your side of the bed, though his lips parted from yours which was an unhappy fate. "Do you want to go further, Cara mia? I know this doesn't equal forgiveness."

"I've never wanted anything more, Dami, my sweetest love," you promised him. Damiano smiled at your admission. He began to place gentle, loving kisses to your neck. "Only if you want to."

"Oh, trust me." Damiano nipped your collarbone, resulting in a yelp from you. You could feel his smirk against your warming skin. "I want to."

Damiano's bites roamed the skin of your chest that your tank top allowed, before you sat up to take it off. Your fingers found Damiano's soft hair as he left sloppy, wet kissed all over your now exposed chest. A bitten back moan escaped your mouth just as his tongue began to circle the tender skin of your nipple, making your back arch into the man above you.

This was an admission of your pleasure, so Damiano's mouth fully encircled your nipple as his hand that once caressed your hip, now cupped your other breast. His warm palm massaged you firmly, having Damiano's name fall from your lips. It had been a while since he'd touched you like this, with such care and attention. Every fiber of Damiano's being was now focused on making his love for you known.

When his warm mouth left your breast to be exposed to the chill of the room, his teeth grazed your sensitive nipple, having goosebumps multiply on your skin at a sky high rate. His mouth then was turned to your other breast as his other hand twisted and pinched the exposed nipple.

Your hands began trying to get his deep red shirt off, to bring his warmth to you. But before Damiano would let you have what you wanted most, he bit the sweet spot beneath your boob, no doubt leaving a mark that would be apparent the next day.

As Damiano leaned up to pull his shirt over his head, you nearly melted underneath him. His hair was already beginning to become delightfully fucked up and the look in his eye was absolutely dark. The look he gave you before joining your lips once again was full of love, accompanied by lust and desire. Damiano slid off his tight leather trousers while he was at it, allowing you to palm him through his briefs.

The kiss shared was now hungry and feverish. The nails of the unoccupied hand scratched down his back, resulting Damiano bucking his hips into your hand. You removed it, which finally gave you the glorious friction that you so completely craved. Damiano no doubt sensed this as he grabbed the back of your thigh as he continued to grind right into the thin layer that separated you both.

"Damiano, please," you nearly cried. The chuckle that came from Damiano was low and only made your panties become even more wet.

"Please what?"

"You know what I mean." He was killing you. Once the words left your lips, Damiano ground his hips into you again. "Fuck me. Fuck me, please. Please."

"See, was that so hard, Amore?" Damiano purred as he lowered the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. He threw them somewhere in the room before pressing his index finger against your clit. You tried to pull him in for a kiss, but Damiano resisted. "Ah, ah, I want to see just how much I effect you."

"You're the fucking-wow-devil himself."

Damiano's laugh bordered upon an evil one. "You love me."

"I love you, I love you so fucking much," you moaned. Damiano smiled as he lowered your grey panties. Those were discarded somewhere along with your pyjama bottoms, but you couldn't give half a fuck because Damiano's perfectly manicured finger found it's way inside of you. You bucked against his hand, making Damiano laugh.

His finger drew circles inside of you while his thumb still played with your clit. God, Damiano was so much better than your own fingers. Without a warning, another finger was added, making a sort of porn-esque moan leave you. Damiano groaned at the sound as well as the sight in front of him. Even his dreams of you weren't as good as this.

It wasn't as if he could help himself from leaning down once again and attaching his mouth to your erect nipple. Your eyes crossed at three parts of your body were on fire with immense pleasure. The flames of rapture enveloped most of your body, even your soul.

"I'm-m-m gonna cum," you cried out. Damiano smiled against your breast as his fingers began going faster. "No, no, let me cum on your cock." Damiano looked up at you with a bit of surprise. You'd never said something like that without prompt.

The needy look that painted your face was all Damiano had to see before he complied. His briefs were off in the blink of an eye and he began to pump himself just to prepare. Your legs were spread wide as you could already feel yourself drip onto the sheets below which made Damiano groan with barred teeth.

He lined himself up with your entrance and gave you one final questioning look. You nodded adamantly before he pushed himself through your folds.

Truly, you could feel your soul ascend as you remembered just how big he was. You big your lip so hard you nearly broke skin while Damiano hissed an intake of breath. He came down to your lips to taste your minty mouth just as his hips began rocking into you, first at a slow pace, then began to get closer.

Damiano's hips snapped into yours quickly, and the sound of smacking skin filled the room, along with the scent of sex and sweat. The combination of both of your moans filled each other's mouths. The bedroom was incredibly hot but somehow you were in a cold sweat, save for where your body joined with Damiano's in sweet harmony.

"Fuck, Y/n, you're so fucking tight," Damiano huffed. You clenched around his cock, only making Damiano cry out with pleasure. Your nails drew down his back, clinging him closer and closer to you with every thrust against your g-spot. Tears brimmed your eyes as a knot formed in the lower part of your stomach.

"Soon, I'm cumming soon."

"Cum on my cock, Baby, just like you want."

You could tell his thrusts were getting sloppy because he was closing in on his release as well. But you couldn't help but cum first as the knot suddenly exploded within you.

Your walls spasmed against Damiano as your release washed over you. Your legs tingled and your toes went a bit numb. Damiano then hit in you a few more times before his own seed seeped into you. It was warm and you felt incredibly full as Damiano stayed within you for an extra few seconds, before falling next to you.

"I know you said this wouldn't equal forgiveness but I'm feeling very forgiving," you sighed. Damiano chuckled and looked over at you. Your skin glowed in orgasmic radiance and your hair was completely fucked out. Damiano's heart swelled at the sight and he couldn't help but kiss you again.

He cleaned you both up after, with a warm wash cloth, and got you new pyjamas. Romeo reentered the room once the sex smell was gone and you were in Damiano's arms once again. Your cat curled between both of you in the dead of night, like the beginnings of a family.

Damiano came home Wednesday afternoon with a massive bouquet that must have cost a pretty pence, a box of Belgian chocolate and a bag of cat treats. It seemed a movie night was in order.

#damiano #damiano david #damiano x reader #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david x reader #damiano maneskin #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin #måneskin #smut #x reader

[fruitcoops]

Night Changes

This isn't based on an ask, but I've had some early-Cap ideas brewing and think about the first time the team heard him laugh a lot. His and James' friendship is so sweet in SW--the beginning of it must have been such a shock to them both. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

So maybe James had bitten off more than he could chew. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, but coaxing (read: drag kicking and screaming) his new teammate out of the carefully-constructed mosaic of scowls that made up his entire personality was proving to be a little more challenging than he previously expected. With most rookies, all it took was some elbow grease and overenthusiastic inclusion in group events to get them to open up—with his brand-new soon-to-be best friend, he had to handle things a little more delicately.

Sirius Black was a puzzle wrapped up in one of those freaky code-breaking machines from World War Two Lily liked to talk about. He was one of the best hockey players James had ever seen, but off the ice he seemed to shut down. The intense focus on his face smoothed out into almost perfect neutrality, and in the four months since he joined the Lions, he had never once smiled for real in front of the team. He sat in his stall and padded up in silence, then went out and kicked ass before following Pascal home like a living shadow.

Naturally, James took it as a personal mission to pry Sirius Black’s closed-off persona open like a stubborn oyster. He tried including Sirius in group events—the rookie went along with a quiet “yeah, sure”, but sat at the table and nursed a single drink for the entire night. He tried getting into friendly banter with him on the ice, but it was like Sirius had never joked with anyone in his life. Hell, he even tried finding him a girlfriend, which tanked harder than the goddamn Titanic.

“Rookie!” James shouted down the hallway.

Sirius jumped and turned around, obviously confused. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” James laughed, jogging over to toss an arm over his shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

He waited for Sirius to continue, then rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly shake. “C’mon, man, how was your weekend? Has Dumo coerced you into being a stay-at-home babysitter yet?”

Sirius’ frown deepened. “What? I come with him to practice every day.”

Change tactics, change tactics— “Got any plans for Friday?”

James knew the answer, of course; it was always no or not yet or a simple shake of the head. If he was a less observant man, he would have assumed Sirius didn’t actually want to hang out with the team. But the longing looks toward their easy rhythm and the way he always tilted himself toward locker room conversations told a different story. “None yet,” Sirius said with a shrug.

James gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Good, ‘cause I’m having a party at my place and you’re not allowed to miss it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be there, duh.” The bewilderment didn’t fade from Sirius’ face, but beneath it—well, maybe James was just seeing things, but he looked almost hopeful. He ruffled Sirius’ hair and headed for the locker room. “Friday at five, rookie! I’ll be waiting!”

--

The week passed in a slog of practices and cold weather. Sirius clammed up more and more as the party drew closer, but James didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered between the rest of them like he was analyzing a play. He would make one hell of a captain someday, if he could just relax a little.

“Hey, rookie, want a ride?” he asked when the big day finally arrived.

“Don’t you want to go home and set up first?” Sirius’ brow furrowed. For an eighteen-year-old kid, he was awfully thoughtful. James couldn’t wait to see him let loose a little. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“It’s a yes or no question,” he teased, poking the bit of exposed shoulder through the widening hole in Sirius’ under armor.

“I…” He faltered, then the corner of his mouth twitched up. It was the closest thing James had seen to a smile from him yet. One point for Potter. “Sure, Pots. Thanks.”

“No problem. Meet me at my car in five or so, yeah?”

“D’accord.”

“Oho, fancy French,” James laughed, turning back to unlace his skates.

It wasn’t until thirty seconds after Sirius left the room that he remembered he never told the rookie what his car looked like. Horrible, terrible visions of the poor guy wandering around the parking lot—or, god forbid, thinking James had left without him—flashed through his mind. It would undo everything he had been working so hard to build.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath as he shoved his gear into his duffel with reckless abandon and hurried out of the locker room. His legs would be stiff from trying to run so soon after a grueling drill practice, but it was worth it to save his friend. “Rookie? Hey, Sirius, you still here?”

There was no response. James cursed again and made a beeline for the door to the parking lot. Please, God, don’t let him get lost. I need him to trust me.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he panted as he burst out onto the half-frozen concrete.

Sirius looked up from his phone with a strange expression. “Are you okay?”

“Thought I lost you for a sec.”

“You said to meet at your car, yes?” He glanced between James and the car in sudden worry.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely, I just—” He made an aborted gesture and dug his keys out of his pocket. “I realized I forgot to tell you which one is mine.”

Sirius blinked at him. “I know what your car looks like.”

“How?”

“Because you drive it here every single day and you gave me a ride three weeks ago.”

‘Dumbass’ went unsaid, but James could feel it hanging in the air. He coughed lightly. “Right. Anyway, you can toss your bag wherever and hop in the passenger seat. My place isn’t far from here.”

Sirius took his duffel as he unlocked the car and settled both in the trunk with more care than James’ poor, battered bag had ever seen in its life. That was another thing that confused him about Sirius Black—he was so careful. He walked quietly for someone so tall, and each movement seemed pre-planned.

Each movement, that is, until he tried to get in the car. “Uh, Pots?”

“That’s m—oh.” James covered his mouth to stifle his laughter as Sirius tried to fold himself into the passenger seat and failed miserably. “I’m sorry, my girlfriend was sitting there last. Uh, there’s a lever on your right—yeah, there, just give it a pull and—”

With a harsh ka-chunk, the seat slid all the way back. Both men froze. It took everything in James’ power not to burst out laughing at the deer-in-headlights shock on Sirius’ face.

“Yep, that one,” he managed. “Nice job.”

They drove in relative quiet—James chattered on about weekend plans and hummed to the radio while Sirius watched out the window with the occasional monosyllable response. It took James a bit by surprise how comfortable he was, even without a steady stream of banter. Sirius might have been stubborn and silent and determined to foil all James’ plans at getting him to socialize, but he was calming to be near, like an anchor on unsteady water. Despite his overall quiet air, he was obviously paying attention to every word that left James’ mouth.

“You’re a good guy, y’know that?” he said as they turned onto his street. Sirius glanced over in surprise. “Most people tune me out within, like, five minutes.”

“I’m a good listener.”

James opened his mouth to respond, then paused. “Was that—Sirius Black, was that a joke?”

Something akin to mischief—mischief!—crossed his face. “Maybe.”

“Were you roasting me?” James gaped at him. “Oh my god. The guys are never gonna believe this.”

“Probably not.”

“You sick bastard. They won’t believe me.”

“You can give it a shot,” Sirius said with a shrug as the engine turned off. Pieces began to connect in James’ head as he stared, incredulous, at the rookie he thought would never even crack a smile. Four months of work had not been wasted, as he had feared; every joke, every one-sided conversation, and every attempt to get Sirius involved had been seen and heard and taken to heart. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sirius actively agree to something unless James asked personally.

“We’re friends,” he said aloud, too surprised and too happy to hold it in. Not friends in the way James was with the rest of their loud, over-the-top teammates, but friends all the same.

“Well, yeah,” Sirius said as if it was obvious.

James unbuckled his seatbelt and socked him lightly on the shoulder, barely suppressing a shriek of excitement. “Love you, man. Grab your shit, we’ve got a party to set up.”

----------------

As much as it pained James to say it, having someone around who was six-foot-three was a huge help. There was no blow to his pride as he dragged Lily’s stepstool out; no grudging acceptance that he simply couldn’t reach those last two inches on the wall. Instead, he could foist any and all responsibility on his brand-new best friend in the whole wide world and focus on the things that mattered, like putting anything breakable or important far away from the grubby hands of his inebriated teammates.

His success was still ringing in his ears when the guests finally arrived—throughout the evening, James rode the high of accomplishing his mission to pull Sirius Black into his tight-knit circle. Every minute of those four months was worth it.

Midnight came and went, and by one-thirty in the morning James’ cramped living room was packed with tipsy hockey players in a vague imitation of a circle. “Non, non, I’ve gotta good one,” Dumo said, hiccupping. The room fell quiet as he leaned forward. “What do you call a body of water with a chicken in it?”

“What?” Kasey whispered, starry-eyed like a kid at Christmas.

“A swimming pool.”

The room stayed quiet, and then someone started to laugh. Slowly, they all turned to the source of the noise, and James felt a ripple of shock roll through the team as Sirius snorted. “It’s a swimming pool,” he said around a smile, his accent thick from three drinks. He had a nice laugh; James could get used to hearing it. “Like—poule, like chicken?”

His whole face was alight with happiness. James wasn’t sure whether to cry or cheer. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, he thought. That look, right there. Sirius fit in among the group like a missing piece of their puzzle, snickering away as if he hadn’t been stoically silent a day in his life. His laugh was downright bubbly.

“I don’t think they get it,” Dumo said into the rim of his cup.

Sirius shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “D’accord, so—so ‘chicken’ in French is poule, yeah? So a chicken in a body of water is a swimming poule. Do you get it now?”

A few oh’s of understanding washed over them, but several people continued to stare. “Too drink for this,” Sergei grumbled, though James could see the smile pulling at his mouth as Sirius turned to him with bright eyes.

“But it’s funny!” Sirius protested, so earnest it made James’ heart hurt.

“I think it’s funny, rookie,” he assured him with a clumsy pat on the arm. “And it’s my house, so I say Dumo gets a point this round.”

Kasey hiccupped. “Hey, anyone who makes the rookie laugh gets points in my book. No offense, dude.”

“None taken,” Sirius said, though his cheeks were pink.

James nudged him with his shoulder as Talker started a knock-knock joke. “It’s okay,” he said under his breath.

Sirius picked at the label on his cup. “I know I haven’t been very social,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” James insisted. “It always takes rookies a while to warm up, so we’re just glad you’re happy. I’m glad my best friend is having a good time at my party.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Sirius looked over, eyebrows raised. “Best friend?”

“What, like you didn’t see this coming?” James slung an arm over his shoulder. “Yes, you French-Canadian nerd, you’re my best friend. And that means I’m your best friend, and there’s no take-backsies.”

“What the hell is a take-backsie?” Sirius laughed. “Did you make that up?”

James grinned. He had the feeling this was the beginning of an excellent friendship.

#sirius black #james potter #pascal dumais #kasey winter #sergei ivanov #thomas walker #rookie #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #pre-cap #friendship

[majestyeverlasting]

Congratulations on your one month tumblr anniversary! Could you please write prompts 16 and 46 with fatws!Bucky x reader? Thank you! :)

♡ Hi, thank you so much! I appreciate you for waiting on me to write this. I had a lot of fun with it, so I hope you enjoy! To summarize, the reader gets to accompany Bucky on an assignment in Germany, and the two of them take advantage of the special housing arrangement they’re given on a private portion of the beach. You guys get to see a little dash of multilingual Bucky towards the end in a really sweet way. The whole thing is pretty cute overall.

♡ Prompt 16: “You’re not good at pretending to be asleep.”

♡ Prompt 46: “Stop making me laugh, I’m supposed to be angry with you.”

Once More

As the tide rolled in, a gentle breeze came with it. Each ebb and flow brought the lukewarm water of the bay running over your feet as your toes pressed into the soft sand. The seagulls gliding above seemed to be welcoming you as they released their throaty cries into the air. Aside from them and the gentle slosh of the bubbling tide, there were no immediate sounds; it was peaceful.

That portion of the beach was private, situated along the Bay of Kiel. It sat behind the small, white, house that you and Bucky were staying in for the week-long duration of his assignment. It was the first time in a while that you’d been able to accompany him because, for once, he and Sam were solely doing investigative work.

There would be no intense pursuits, no combat, no casualties. Just observing.

In the weeks prior, the Office of International Affairs in D.C. had received word that under-the-table negotiations were being proposed in the port city of Kiel. They needed eyes and ears on the ground to confirm whether or not such claims were valid. Because if they were, a major threat would be posed to European infrastructure and the millions who depended on it. So after housing arrangements were made, the three of you were flown into a private airport in Germany along with a couple of military agents.

It was a peculiar getaway, but a getaway no less.

You let out a small yelp when a pair of arms snaked around your waist from behind, squeezing gently. “Hey, pretty girl,” Bucky murmured into your ear, kissing it afterwards. “I saw you walk out here.”

As you relaxed, a thoughtful hum rose up your throat. “I figured you might’ve. You’re not very good at pretending to be asleep.”

Before you wandered out to the shoreline, Bucky had been laying on the wicker couch on the back porch, baby blue cushions beneath him. There were a pair of aviator sunglasses covering his eyes as his chest rose with steady breaths. You had paused to see if he was awake and would acknowledge you. The corners of his lips twitched upwards the slightest bit, which you almost considered calling him out for.

But when he didn’t show any other signs of being awake, you leaned down to press a light kiss to his forehead before heading down the steps, and onto the wooden walkway that led to the sand.

At your comment, Bucky chuckled and let his mouth move the spot beneath your ear, nipping gently.

You shivered, and said, “I should’ve pinched you.”

“That wouldn’t have been nice.” A smile was evident in his voice.

You shrugged with a small huff of laughter. The two of you then gazed out at the expanse of the bay. Ships sailed along the line of the horizon in the distance. The tide continued rolling in, though never rising quite above your knees.

“I love you,” he said eventually, his words competing with the seagulls.

“I love you too.” He coaxed you to turn to face him. When you did, you saw that the white button down he wore was unbuttoned and flowing in the calm wind.

Seamlessly, his flesh hand rose to cup your face and he connected his lips to yours. You could taste the lingering hint of Merlot on his tongue from when you two had shared a glass in the hour prior. Bucky kissed you slowly, and gently, yet still with passion. Had the tide not been lapping at your legs, you would have had reason to believe you were floating.

You chased his lips for a final peck when he started to pull away, making him smile. He looked handsome in the late afternoon sun and you allowed yourself to study his face. A few freckles lined his cheeks and you reached up to run your finger over them. Then your hand fell so that you could wrap your arms around him in an embrace. His secured around you in return.

It was getting closer to the time he had to meet up with Sam and the agents to eavesdrop on a meeting being held at a classified location near the Port of Kiel shipyard.

“You have to leave me soon, don’t you?” You asked, head resting on his shoulder.

“In another hour,” he confirmed. “I should be back before it gets too late.”

“Okay,” you murmured. “And you promise you guys will be safe?”

Bucky chuckled and gave you a squeeze. “We’ve done this kinda stuff once or twice, doll. We’ll be alright,” he said, a note of teasing to his tone. “But, yes. I promise.”

It was before midnight when he arrived back at the house. Late, but before midnight nonetheless. When he walked through the front door, you were laying on the couch in the living room, curled up in one of the fluffy blankets you’d packed. The TV glowed as it aired a nightly news report that had failed to grasp your full attention. You would’ve crawled into bed had you not been waiting for him.

The sight of his tall frame made you push yourself up to stand, the blanket slipping off you, and back down to the couch. You didn’t realize that a small smile had stretched across your face.

“See?” He said, smiling back. “Not too bad, right? Could’ve been later.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “How’d everything go?”

He ran a hand through his hair as he began to walk towards you. His boots thudded against the wooden planks of the floor. “Things are looking pretty good so far,” he began. There wasn’t anything discussed that raised reason for concern. We’ll see how things play out as we keep an eye out these next few days. That’ll determine everyone’s next move,” he explained, stopping a little ways in front of you. “How about you, pretty girl? What’d you get up to while I was gone?”

Nothing worth noting, you wanted to say. But you decided to tease him instead. “Oh, you know.” You shrugged. “A little bit of everything. Went out on the town, danced on a few tables, got whisked away by a stranger—electrifying stuff.”

A hint of a smirk appeared on Bucky’s face as he narrowed his eyes at you. “I don’t think you’d look this cozy after doing all that.” He began to take off his leather jacket, revealing a black T-shirt that accentuated the definition of his upper body. His vibranium arm almost seemed to blend into the dark fabric, making the gold streaks of accent stand out. Black was one of your favorite colors on him for that very reason.

But you weren’t done messing with him quite yet. “Maybe that’s what I want it to seem like.” You raised your brows in a challenge. Bucky stared at you for a few more beats before stalking off towards the master bedroom with a lighthearted roll of his eyes.

“Wait, no! Don’t leave.” You laughed, following after him.

Bucky didn’t react when you wrapped your arms around him in a jarring hug, forcing him to walk into the bedroom carting a portion of your weight as you attempted to slow his steps. The room was a modest space suited with a neutral color scheme. Lots of browns and creams with a couple pops of a pretty burnt orange. The full-sized bed was smaller than the two of you were used to, but the proximity that came along with sleeping in it hadn’t been too bad the previous night.

He tossed his jacket onto it.

“I was just kidding,” you said. “I was here the whole time. I went out back to watch the sunset, but I hardly did anything other than that. Just scrolled on my phone and read a little. And missed you.”

He finally laughed and pried your arms from around him. “I know, doll.” Then he smirked. “You’d probably fall if you actually tried dancing on a table.”

“Hey!” You lightly slapped his chest with the back of your hand. “I would not.” Bucky’s laughter dwindled when you pouted and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, c’mon,” he said, moving to stand in front of you. “I was joking. You know I was.” You almost cracked a smile when he lifted your chin so you could meet his eyes.

“Ich liebe dich,” he stated. German for I love you.

“I have no idea what you just said.” That was a lie.

You let him pull you to your feet as his shoulders shook with amusement. “Yes you do,” he countered.

Then he took your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and peppered some across your cheeks in a way that pleasantly ghosted over your skin. In between them, he told you that he loved you in a few of the languages he spoke—the ones in which he knew you were familiar with the phrase. He even called you “pretty girl” in Russian before pecking your lips. The whole while, warmth spread through your face.

He smiled at the sight of the sparkle in your eyes. “Do I need to repeat anything, or did you understand?”

That drew a chuckle out of you, against your attempt and feigning indifference. “Stop making me laugh,” you whined in defeat. “I’m supposed to be angry with you.”

“And how’s that working out?”

“It’s not,” you muttered. “I love you too.”

And your lips met his once more.

-

Thanks for reading!

Click here for more fluffy Bucky stuff.

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[recklessmark]

mine

—when the bodyguard your dad hired is your long lost rival.

Pairings: bodyguard Mark x mob-boss Reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: unprotected sex (be safe!), dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex, spanking, slut shamming, orgasm denial, mark is possessive but cute at the end.

The sounds of your heels clicking against the ground filled up the silent patio. You stormed into your house after receiving a text from your dad, basically demonstrated that he had sent you a new bodyguard since your job had been getting more intense lately. This should be the umpteenth guard that your dad hired, how are they supposed to protect you when every time you get into trouble, they can’t even take care of themselves.

You locked the door, kicking your shoes off before walking inside. Noticing a figure of a man sitting on the couch, you frowned. One hand holding the gun holster, the other finding the light switch. But they immediately fell onto your mouth when the man in question himself turned around due to the sudden light in the room. Your eyes went widen, still not believed in what you saw. He stood up, a coy smirk displayed on his face as he slowly approached you.

“You miss me?”

You looked him up and down, confirming that you were not dreaming, “M-Mark Lee? You’re alive?”

Your back is against the wall as Mark pressed his body on you, your faces were an inch away from each other. You’re babbling, dying to know how it’s possible for your long lost rival, Mark Lee, revitalized from his death and now standing in your house. Mark had been on the back of your head since the day you heard the news of his death from a combat. Apparently you’re supposed to hate him but that period of time was the darkest of your life, you practically couldn’t live without him.

He leaned in, his nose was brushing yours, “If I knew my appearance can earn that reaction from you, I would accept the job offer sooner.”

You tensed under his muscular body, his face plastered with arrogance. You squinted your eyes at him, “So you’re the body guard that my dad hired?”

Mark nodded, “Didn’t know that my death make your career path a lot easier. You’re the boss now huh?”

You pushed him away, you needed to go since you’re melting into his touch and that’s definitely not a good sign. You fixed your clothes before walking away.

“You can sleep on the couch or in the room next to the balcony. We’re going to the estate tomorrow.”, you called behind your back, “And don’t even think about breaking into my room at midnight.”.

You remembered that time you saw Mark sitting in front of your house with blood everywhere. You did let him stay at your place since he was terribly injured with two bullets in his shoulder and a gash on his ribs. He was super lucky to magically survive after that much damage, and you thought you could be a surgeon that you were phenomenally able to save him with some basic medical skills. Mark stayed with you for two weeks and literally broke into your room every night despite of your death threats and the locks on your door that you only bought because of him. You pathetically had no sleep at that time, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully when your hot enemy was pressing his chest against your back. You sighed, Mark Lee is the first bodyguard you didn’t kick out on the first day and the only bodyguard you let staying at your place.

—

You’re questioning yourself about the faith you put in Mark, your used-to-be enemy, that you actually allowed him to be your bodyguard and now you’re guiding him to your estate. What if he’s preparing for a terrorization?

“So why did you fake your death?”, you asked, only loud enough for him to hear clearly.

Mark glanced at you as he’s trying to find the perfect vocabulary for the situation, “The boss thought I’m a threat to the gang so they attempted to kill me many times, unsuccessfully though.”

“That you’ll murderer that coward and replace him? What in the mysterious novel is this?”, you laughed almost choked on your spit.

Everyone eyes landed on you and Mark when you stepped inside the building, the faint smile on your lips had soon faded away. They respectfully greeted you as you made your way to the office.

“What are you involved with?”

You heard him question when you’re in the elevator. Your fingers tapped on your lips,

“Pharmaceuticals”

“Drugs”

You darted your eyes at him as the word fell out of his mouth. “God, I’m trying to make it sound legal, no need to say it out loud like that.”, you gave him a warning look before continued talking.

“Automotive recovery and repair”

“Grand theft auto”

You’re not bothered to yell at Mark or whatsoever, as if he hadn’t done all that things.

“Defense trading”

“Selling illegal weapons”

You stopped a bit, looking at the number on the monitor screen of the elevator.

“And contract execution.”

The elevator was finally on the highest floor, which only has your office and the meeting room. You stopped at your track when you see a gap on your office door, you always remember to lock it up before going home, except it’s...

“Y/N!”

You almost passed out, you should’ve mentioned that you totally hate surprises. How do people find it’s funny when they scare the fuck out of somebody?

“Lee Haechan? When did you get here?”

You lost your balance when Haechan jumped on you for a hug, “Last night.”

You fumbled on your feet as the weight on you hardened your breathing. “God, do you always have to cling on me like that?”

His arms wrapped around your waist, he rested his head on the crook of your neck as he noticed the man that had been standing at the door frame.

“Who’s this? You better not cheat on me!”

You frowned, pushing Haechan away, “Cheat your ass! He’s my bodyguard.”, you turned around to look at Mark.

“Hey, you should go check the new people. If they mess up, I’ll kick your ass.”

You asked Haechan to leave before he continued making something up. You don’t know why he has a thing for pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes cousin or even worse is step brother. He always knows how to get you into trouble and never take responsibility for that. You don’t know how come he’s your best friend and your assistant.

You locked the door after he already left, not care about Mark still froze at his space. You sat down, reorganized the stacks of papers on your desk.

“He’s your boyfriend?”

Your eyes flew up only for you to see that Mark was hovering over you, his hands pressed on the desk.

You looked back down, “Why would you care?”

He remained silent, you shrugged, unbothered by his question. Neither the two of you broke the silence first until you completed all the work, it’s already night time outside. You glanced at Mark, who’s sitting on the couch next to the window with his gaze focused on you. You flustered, wondering if he had been like that for 4 hours straight since you came to work after lunch.

“Let’s go.”

—

You’re walking to your car in the parking lot when someone familiar drew your attention.

“Jaehyun!”

You hollered while running towards the man. He caught you in his arms as you peck on his cheeks, which was not become unnoticed by Mark. He recognized the man, Mark had a few combats with him before.

You noticed the expression on Jaehyun’s face changed lightly when his gaze shifted. You knew what’s it about.

“He’s the bodyguard my dad hired, I’ll explain but I have to leave now okay?”

You gave him a small kiss on his lips before turning around, pulling Mark with you.

—

“Get out!”

Mark snarled when he finally pulled up in the garage. He walked out, leaving you confused in the car. Did he just yell at you? You gasped as the door beside you flung opened, he recklessly took off your seat belt before pulling you into the house.

“What the hell Mark?”

You asked when he pressed you against the door, still could not comprehend what’s happening.

“Shut up!”

He groaned into your ear, his head was on the crook of your neck, you squirmed as his hair tickled you.

“Have you done flirting with every man you meet? You want to be a slut so bad don’t you? You want Jung Jaehyun to fuck you right? And either whoever the man in your office was!”

Your body tensed under his, his breath hit your skin giving you some feelings. Both of your hands attempted to push Mark away by his shoulder but he didn’t move an inch. He left your neck to face you, his eyes gave you death stare.

“Mark take a fucking breath, okay?”, you muttered out. His eyes were still boring holes into you as you continued, “Haechan is my assistant and Jaehyun”, you stop, “I like him.”

“That jackass? That? Him?”

You frowned, “He’s not a jackass.”, you debated.

Mark grabbed you around the waist, “He doesn’t ever touch you again. Understand?” His tone was venomous. “You’re mine.”

You stood in silence as your brain functioning his words. His proximity to you was turning the heat in your veins from anger into something else.

“Oh yeah, Mark? I’m yours?”

“Mine.” His face was mere inches from yours.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking prove it, then, asshole.”

He tightened his grip around your waist and practically threw you onto the couch. You turned and tried to crawl away but he pulled you back down, forcefully, and slammed his hips into your ass. You could feel his erection straining against his trousers as he ground into you. You braced your hands on the couch as he kicked your legs apart and shoved your dress up around your waist.

“You want me to fucking prove it?”

He cupped your ass in his hands and squeezed hard before ripping off your lace panties and throwing them on the floor. One hand snaked around your waist to keep you from escaping while the other ran along your slit. Mark placed his finger in his mouth tasting you groaning lowly and then pulled it out with a pop. He kneeled down and ran his tongue along your slit before digging in. His tongue circling your clit before darting into your hole then going back. You moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the couch as you felt your orgasm fast approaching.

"M-Mark..." you whimpered as your legs started to shake. He groaned against you as he kept going, the vibrations making your mind go blank. "I-I-I'm... I'm go-gonna..."

He pulled away in a moment, leaving you undone. You whined, desperate to come. Instantly his hand came out and wrapped around the back of your neck pulling you close to him and smashing his lips into yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue dominated yours as you can taste yourself on it. His other hand ran up your thigh until it reached your ass and he gripped a cheek roughly causing you to moan out.

“Do you think you deserve to cum? You acted like a slut so I treat you like one.”

He started to kiss and bite along your neck stopping every so often to leave some marks. You heard the metallic click as it was unfastened and then his zipper as he freed his cock. Then, in one motion, he slammed into your cunt.

“How about this, huh? Do you like my cock inside you?”

You gritted your teeth and nodded, Mark smacked your ass, hard. “Answer me, goddamnit. Do you like my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Say it.” He began a slow but punishing rhythm, pistoning into you as hard as he could. “Fucking say it, Y/N.”

“Yes–Mark....” He punctuated each of your words with a deep thrust. “I – like – your – cock – inside – me – ”

“You like it when I fuck you hard?” he growled as he began to speed up.

“Yes… yes… oh God, yes,” you moaned, giving yourself over to the pleasure.

“You filthy fucking slut… you like it when I fuck your pussy from behind like this?”

“Yes! Mark, yes!” you could feel your climax already approaching as Mark reached down to rub your swollen clit with his hips slamming into you nonstop.

“Are you mine, Y/N?” he roared.

“Yes, Mark, I’m yours!”

With that, your orgasm tore through you, your back arching as your body pulsed around him. You had barely come down from your high when leaned over, “You should be grateful that I let you cum. Turn around, dirty girl. I want your mouth.”

Mark pulled out of you and you turned around kneeling in front of him, still feeling boneless. He grasped your hair and you let your jaw drop open; he bucked his hips forward and you could taste yourself on his cock. You sucked him greedily as he thrust forward.

He groaned as he emptied himself into your mouth; you swallowed everything Mark gave you before slowly licking him clean. He fell flopped himself onto the couch, shaking from the force of his release, before wrapping his arm around your naked body.

For a few long minutes, the only sound was your labored breathing as you tried to recover.

“Do you actually like Jaehyun?”

Mark mumbled but loud enough for you to hear, his breath was still heavy.

You leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, your legs curled up, pressing against your bare chest. “Yes, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

His hand brushed your hair comfortably, “Why?”

“Didn’t you just claim me like two minutes ago? You can’t change your mind.”, Mark couldn’t help but giggled, he pressed his chin on your head. “Since when you have feelings for me?”, you looked up only to see his sharp jawline, his signature scent filled up your nostrils.

“I don’t know dude, may be that time when you held a dull dagger on my throat or when you attempted to shoot me with no bullet loaded in the gun.”

You slapped his arm playfully, “That was an accident!”

The room went into silence again, your eyes stared into the city outside of the wall of windows.

“Do you know when I figured out my feelings?”

Mark traced your fingers with his thumb, waiting for your answer. “I kissed Jaehyun because it’s the last kiss, I thought you don’t care.”, you intertwined your hand with his, “But I know you’re my everything the moment you I saw you sitting here, that my long lost hot rival is alive.”

©️  DREAMYKRAM. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

#nct mark #mark lee #mark blurbs #mark boyfriend #mark imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee smut #mark scenarios #mark smut #nct smut #nct u smut #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct mark lee

[shorkbrian]

Fuck the context and the way you portrayed shinso in your brother fic of him was so hot. Can’t wait for him to become unhinged and not even care what his parents would think/if they’re home and just defile you whenever he wants bc he’s just that desperate

Prelude -  gonna call this mess “FaMiLy BoNdInG” and bruh trust me it’s a mess but I tried so enjoy k gbye

Pairing - Aizawa X Reader X Shinsou

Prompt - at the top and combined with these two!

Warnings - psuedo-incest, NSFW, non con, dubcon, all the cons. Step dad Aizawa and step bro Shinsou are a force to be reckoned with. Mentions of DP at the end.

Music - I listened to https://open.spotify.com/track/1xFfbxmfenEpn4WawGWXiA?si=OUFp4ANsSR-6V_H187Eblw while writing even though it has NO relation to the fic spsosfnjsdhgsslfdn dead

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You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking soda and scrolling mindlessly on your phone when your stepbrother had come up behind you, looping his arms over your shoulders as he leaned down.

“Hey girlie, what’re you doing?”

“Nothin’.” You shifted, moving so his mouth was away from your ear, squirming uncomfortably. 

There was a beat of silence, before Shinsou stood, his presence looming behind you like a harbinger of evil. “Come up to my room? I’m tired, wanna hold you.” You sighed, hunching your shoulders and curling in upon yourself. You knew it wasn’t a question, wasn’t a request that you could ignore or refuse. He was just giving you the illusion of having a choice. Well,  you did have a choice;  go with your brother willingly, or get dragged, risk him getting angry if you said you were feeling sick, get into a fight with the man that could pin you to the ground without breaking a sweat.

“Shinsou…. “

“C’mon.” He didn’t wait for you to figure out how to beg for him to leave you be, grabbing your arm and hauling you to your feet with ease. You went limp, what else could you do?

The purple-haired man reached under your skirt, a modest, knee-length thing, wrenching your panties down with one hand.  You squeezed your eyes shut when his hand brushed against your hip, when he eyed the panties clutched in his fist.

“Cute.”

Gross. 

Then he was tugging you along, headed towards his room. 

You were so tired.

Mind almost shutting down, you stumbled when the audible clanking of the garage door beginning to open could be heard.

Dad was home.

Wide eyed, you caught Shinsou’s equally-surprised gaze, the man in front of you tightening his grip on your arm. Without another word, his pace was quickened.  Aizawa wasn’t supposed to get home until midnight, was supposed to be working late at the office. 

Shinsou tugged you into his room, slammed the door shut,  pushed you onto the bed. He had a sense of urgency; he was stressed, thrown off by the sudden and unexpected arrival of your father. “Gotta be quiet now, don’t want dad to hear us, right?”

You nodded, dazed, exhausted. Nothing had happened yet and you were already retreating inside your mind, resigning yourself to whatever your older brother was going to do today. He had said he wanted to cuddle, but that usually meant lazy sex while he hugged you, kissing your neck and falling asleep after making the both of you cum.

Without any preamble, the man climbed onto the bed, putting a hand on your shoulder to gently guide you to lay back. Then he was scrabbling at your shirt, pulling it over your head and leaving you in nothing but your bralette and skirt. He kneeled between your legs, pulling your skirt up to mid thigh to give him more room to maneuver.

“Shinsou please don’t, dad’s-“

“Shhhh, just do what I say and you’ll be fine.”

Shinsou spat into his palm, the sound making you cringe as you thumbed at the soft blankets underneath you. He was unbuttoning his pants, shoving at his underwear until he could get his cock free. The man went quicker than usual as he slicked up his length with his spit, very much aware of the presence of someone else in the house. 

At this point, Shinsou really didn’t care.

He had been fucking you for so long, pulling you aside for a quickie when your parents ran to the store, taking his time when they went away for a weekend,  fucked you on the couch when they went out for date-night. Feeling particularly bold today, he barely thought to pause when your father had gotten home. Right now, he wanted to lay down with his little sister, fuck you until you fell asleep, and then cuddle with your pliant body. Dad home or not, he was determined.

Your skirt was pushed even further up your body, the material bunching at your waist so your stepbrother had unfettered access to your bare pussy. Clenching your eyes shut, you turned your head away as you felt Shinsou pull your hips into his lap so he could rub his cock against your folds. He hissed at the sensation, spitting into his hand again before reaching around his cock to smear his saliva onto your puffy slit, too impatient and hurried to properly prep you.

It was odd to see the purple haired man like this; usually he was very laid-back, slow and gathered in his movements. Right now he was rushing, pushing the tip of his cock slowly into your entrance when usually he would still be making you cry on his fingers. The stretch was immediate, almost burning, and your lungs tightened.

A hand reached up to cover your mouth, Shinsou’s thumb massaging your cheek as he hushed you. You grabbed onto his arm, not to pull him away (it would be useless, he was so much stronger than you), but to ground yourself,  able to do nothing but hold onto the man causing you pain.

The sound of dishes clattering down in the kitchen had Shinsou’s hips bucking forward suddenly, filling you up, pressing too far, too soon. He swore lowly, hand tightening around your mouth as you let out a pained noise.

His hips stilled, the hand not at your mouth petting soothingly at your hip in an imitation of comfort. Funny, you thought - you wouldn’t need comfort if your stupid step brother could manage to keep his dick in his pants.

As the seconds passed, both of you aware of Aizawa down in the kitchen, your muscles slowly relaxed. The stretch burned less, felt more manageable. Still, you were entirely unprepared when Shinsou drew his hips back before rutting into you.

You screeched, the sound muffled by his hand but undeniably loud.  Shinsou leaned over you, unwittingly pushing himself deeper as he tried to soothe you with his quiet “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

If you were able, you would scream that you weren’t. You weren’t okay, nothing was okay. Everything about this was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. The way his hips were twitching into you, the way he kissed your cheeks and thumbed away your tears. The pleasure that was sparking in your core, the fact that it was your stepbrother getting ready to pound you into the mattress.

He was thrusting smoothly now, cock drilling into you a a steady pace. You were getting wet, the slide easier and less painful, pleasure slowly filtering in. When Shinsou plucked at your clit, you squirmed, hips shamefully moving to meet his own. He started increasing the pace, breathing heavily as the two of you rocked together on the bed. Occasionally his bed creaked, the wood rubbing at the joints and squeaking. 

On one hand, you hoped dad didn’t hear. On the other, you wished he would -  that he’d come save you from his son.

You got a mockery of your wish.

“Kids?”  Aizawa was walking up the stairs, the third step that always creaked whenever someone tread on it announcing his ascent.

“Shit.” Shinsou breathed, pulling out of you, manhandling you quickly. He threw back the covers of his bed, shoved you down, settled behind you. He didn’t have to tell you to be good - the taboo, disgustingly wrong nature of what he had been doing was too embarrassing for you to reveal to your stepfather. Accusing his biological son of assaulting you? Raping you? Would dad even believe you? You didn’t want him to see you like this, you couldn’t.

Dad knocked as Shinsou pulled the covers up, covering your state of undress. You knew your bralette straps were still visible, and Shinsou still had his shirt on. It would probably just look like the two of you had been napping, but then again, it would still seem odd. Whenever your parents were home you stayed as far away from your brother as possible - you weren’t one to just go cuddle with him.

The door creaked open, and your dad peered in. You were so embarrassed, half-naked and utterly humiliated underneath the covers. You didn’t know what to feel or what to do, frozen in fear and indecision. 

“Hey dad, need something?” Shinsou rumbled from behind you, voice steady and monotoned.

Light eyes scanned the room, before settling on you and your brother. Aizawa gave you a confused glance, obviously not expecting you to be in here, before his eyes shifted to the man behind you. “Wanted to let you know I’m home. Mom won’t be back until late, do you two have any specific requests for dinner?”

Shinsou shifted closer to you, so close that you could feel his rapidly beating heart through the warm flesh of his chest.

“Nah, we’re fine with whatever.”

Aizawa nodded, giving you one more confused glance. Maybe he could tell something was up? You felt like you couldn’t breathe. As the dark-haired man turned, obviously moving to shut the door and head back down to the kitchen, Shinsou was pushing his cock into you, his heart trying to beat out of his chest against your back.

Before you could stop yourself, you were whimpering.

“Dad….”

Shinsou froze as Aizawa turned back, stepping further into the room. You were quiet, tears budding at the corners of your eyes.  You couldn’t make yourself utter another word, completely unsettled at the situation. What were you supposed to do? You wanted him to save you, but you didn’t know how to ask. Your stepfather was studying you, was waiting for you to say something more. His gaze was flickering between you tearful eyes, your bralette straps visible above the blanket, the position you and Shinsou were in. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

All three of you were silent, the moment seeming to stretch on forever. 

You were so tired.

Breaking the stillness, Aizawa took another step into the room, brows slowly drawing down as the realization dawned upon him.

“Shinsou.” HIs voice was low, he rolled his son’s name in his mouth quietly, almost hesitantly. “What the fuck is going on.”

Your brother’s cock was still inside you.

“I was tired. (Y/N)’s cuddling with me, she was telling me about a dog she saw-“ Aizawa snorted, arms crossing as he took another step towards the bed. “Nice try. Don’t lie to me. Tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”

Shinsou was silent behind you, his heart beating loud and fast against your back.  

“(Y/N), what’s going on?” His voice was softer as he asked you, throaty still - but softer.  The tears clouding your vision finally flooded, streaming down your cheeks as you looked up at him. 

“Please… I....” You couldn’t formulate the words, mortification surrounding your body, Shinsou’s hand squeezing bruises into your hip. It was too much. You wished you had never existed,  that none of this had happened.

Unable to get an answer out of either of you, Aizawa strode forward, grabbed the covers, ripped them off the bed and dumped them in a heap.

You sobbed.

Both men were silent as you cried fat tears, embarrassed at being revealed, gratification at dad finally discovering the awfulness you had been subjected to these past few months.

Shinsou thrust his hips further into your warmth.

You choked, eyes snapping up to Aizawa. Shinsou was supposed to stop the second the two of were caught. He wasn’t supposed to keep going. Why wasn’t dad saying anything? Telling Shinsou to get off of you, get out of the house? Why wasn’t he calling the police? Why wasn’t he pulling your skirt down, trying to preserve your modesty?

The man was staring at the mess between your legs, Shinsou’s cock sliding in and out of you as you sobbed. Aizawa was breathing a bit heavier, his face, stance, demeanor no longer angry.

Dread filled your bones, settled like hot glue.

“Can you see how wet she is? She’s dripping.” Shinsou prodded, Aizawa frozen in place, mouth dry as he watched. “She’s always so warm inside, feels so nice.“

He was egging Aizawa on, seizing the moment and capturing his dad’s hesitance, manipulating it. You let out a whine as Shinsou’s pace picked up, cock beginning to hammer into your pussy. The purple haired man looped an arm underneath your thigh, hefting it into the air to allow Aizawa a better view.

“Doesn’t she sound so sweet? She tastes just as good, feels even better.” He was breathing heavily now, as he rutted into your warmth. Dropping your thigh, Shinsou reached for your clit, trapping the nub between his fingers and flicking at it. You cried out, your own hips squirming in indecisiveness , unable to choose between puling away or pushing back into the delicious sensation. It didn’t take much more to have you cumming.

Shinsou grunted as your walls squeezed around his cock, giving a few more frantic thrusts before he shot his load deep within your cunt, hips twitching as he worked through his own orgasm

You watched Aizawa sit down on the bed, close to your knees.

“How long?” He sounded strained. Shinsou shrugged, still panting.

Aizawa’s rough hand rested on your knee, his flat eyes closing as he paused. “Get up.”

The command wasn’t directed at you, but at your brother. Somehow, you didn’t think it would end up with your stepdad kicking his son out of the house.

Shinsou seemed to think the same as he pulled out, uncaring to the way you flinched as his cock dragged against your sensitive walls. He was silent as he shuffled to the end of the bed, tucking his dick back into his pants. 

Aizawa grabbed your ankle and in one smooth move, dragged you to him. You squeaked at the sudden movement, eyes wide as you watched Aizawa look you up and down. The front of his slacks were tented.

He pulled you into his lap, your back to his chest, turning so the both of you faced Shinsou who still stood at the foot of the bed.

“Does he make you feel good?” The older man’s stubble was scratchy against your cheek. You didn’t know where this was going, felt so lost and bad and sick.

  “Sometimes…”

It was impossible to lie. You knew if you did, Shinsou would cut in, tell his father how he made you cum everytime. How most of the time, you were screaming in pleasure before he would even take his pants off. 

Looking at the floor, you missed the look between father and son.

“He touch you here?” You gasped as a large hand grasped at your chest through your bralette. Aizawa’s hands were bigger than his son’s, rougher and more confident in their touch.

“Yes.”

“What about-“ tears streamed down your face as the hand slid further, over your tummy, over the fabric of your skit, down to your abused, sensitive cunt. “-Here?”

“Please stop, please.”

Aizawa didn’t answer, let his hand rest over the top of your pussy, feel his son’s cum slowly leaking out. “Shinsou, come here.”

The purple-haired man obeyed, stepping closer, falling to his knees at the edge of the bed when Aizawa motioned for him to do so.

“Clean up your sister.”

You weren’t too surprised. It shouldn’t have been hard to see where Shinsou had learned his nasty little tricks from. Still, it hurt your heart, struggling in your step-dad’s lap as he held you in place. 

Shinsou was smiling, leaning forward to shove his face in-between your thighs, chuckling when you yelped as he tongued over your hole. You used your hands to shove at his head, pull at his hair, but he caught them in his grip. They were pulled down by your sides, where Shinsou held them still.

“No, no! Stop! You can’t, no—dad!!” You were sobbing, pleading as Shinsou continued his assault on your cunt, licking out his own cum from your insides. Aizawa was holding your legs, keeping you spread-eagled and open.

“I’m not a good guy (Y/N), neither of us are.” His hardness was rubbing up against your back as you squirmed. “And from now on, you call me daddy.” “No! I won’t, let me go!” You thrashed, putting all your energy into loosing the iron grip holding your legs. Shinsou pulled back, licking his lips as he glanced up at his father.

“She was like this when I first had her. Mouthy little thing, still hasn’t learned proper manners.” He didn’t wait for Aizawa to respond, leaning back forward to continue slurping at your swollen lips.

“That’s alright, she’ll learn… I am a teacher after all.”

You wanted to vomit. You went limp, sobbing raggedly in Aizawa’s arms - completely demoralized and humiliated. There was no use fighting when Shinsou had been hurting you.  Now with two fully grown men focused on you? Forget about it.

Aizawa was quiet as Shinsou worked you up to an orgasm, the only sound besides your crying the wet, squishy lapping of Shinsou’s tongue suckling at your pussy. When he switched his focus to your clit, you wheezed, jolting in place as his tongue started laving over the little bud rapidly, quickly throwing you higher and higher and-

You wailed through your second orgasm, almost unable to breathe. 

Moments passed before you were able to calm yourself, ugly-crying and begging the two men to please, please leave you alone. Please leave, don’t touch you.

If you weren’t numb from your orgasm, you would feel sick.

“Shinsou, where’s your lube?”

Purple hair bounced as your brother cocked his head, still kneeling between your legs. “She doesn’t need lube, she’s soaking wet.”

“She’s gonna need it if we’re both going to fit.”

Neither man seemed to be able to hear your panicked pleas, too excited about prepping you to take both of them together.

What an awful attempt at family bonding.

#yandere #yandere oneshot #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere shinso hitoshi #yandere aizawa shouta #creepy aizawa #stepbro #stepbrother #stepfather #step dad #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #noncon tw #yandere shinso x reader #yandere aizawa

[queenoftheworldisdead]

I have a request with dark prompts and tropes/ kinks from the list.

The Dialogues:

“Please, I have to get home.”

“Don’t move a muscle.”

Tropes:

Stalking/obsession

Kidnapping

(With the character Andy Barber)

Thank you in advance.

Hard day's night

Warning: 18 + Only, dark theme, kidnapping, choking, bondage, non-consent, dubious consent, forced fingering, cream-pie

Note: hope you enjoy

Dark Andy x Reader

The parking garage was partially empty compared to when you first arrived to work. Your heels echoed off the cement garage walls as you searched for where you parked. Some days you were lucky to park on L3 the prized spot closest to the ground, but today you were late and in your hurry you couldn't remember if you were on L5 or L8.

With the car fob in hand you press the unlock button. The familiar beep signaled that you were further away than you anticipated.

*Honk

The loud car horn from behind had you jumping out of your skin and screeching at the top of your lungs. With your heart hammering in your chest you turned only to be immediately blinded by the car behind you.

Blocking the light with your hand, you realized you were wondering in the middle of the driving path. "Sorry" you shouted back, moving over to allow them to pass you.

The black sedan creeped up and idled beside you. You clutched your purse and moved over closer to the side as the window rolled down. You didn't have mace, but you were sure your purse was heavy enough to wheeled as a weapon.

"Sorry I scared you" Andy leaned over, smiling as he looked up at you. It was slightly jarring seeing him like that. He had been extremely combative towards your boss during the deposition, each session ending in a screaming match.

Mr. Thomas, the defense attorney you paralegal for, had always been mild tempered. The objections during Mr. Thomas's cross drew an ire that you had never witnessed before. It was as if he sought to provoke him on purpose. Tempers were so high that Judge Peters threatened both sides with contempt, forcing several recesses to cool them off.

A process that normally lasted a few hours somehow turned into three grueling days of high tensions and long nights going over transcripts.

"Sorry I was in the way. I forgot where I parked." You jiggled your keys, almost embarrassed.

"Get in I'll help you find it. It's really late and you shouldn't be walking alone in the garage like this."

The offer was nice, but getting into the car of opposing console would surely be frowned apron at your firm.

You were about to protest when he unlocked the passenger door. With a sigh of defeat you got inside. Thankfully Mr. Thomas parked in reserved parking on the lower levels. Far from the general parking on the upper floors that you used.

"I assume your late because of me" he laughed lightly as he slowly drove on.

"Yeah its safe to say you are correct" you dryly chuckled as you hid low in the seat. The garage was slightly empty, but you didn't want to take the chance of being seen as doing something inappropriate. Idiot why did you get in the car?

Aside from him being apposing console Mr.Barber made you feel uneasy. During the hours long deposition you would feel a weird tingle, that made you look up from your notepad only to look up and lock eyes with the DA. You shrugged it off as an intimidation tactic used to get under the skin of the opposition.

---

Clicking your fob again you listened for your car, but somehow you were now further than you were originally. "Oh gosh can we turn back? I think I' m further up."

Andy nodded as he continued down the path. The signs above indicating 'More parking turn left' and 'Exit turn right'.

"Why are you still here?" You questioned him as you searched. The deposition ran long, but it ended hours ago.

"Oh.." He said caught off guard as he made a right turn toward the exit. "I spotted an old colleague John Wilson. We chatted for a bit, didn't and realize how late it was until the old ball and chain called."

Your office had a few former district attorneys. Most left the DA's office for the more lucrative life of defense.

"Um Mr.Barber.. you needed to make the left to go back into the garage." You pointed back when Andy made the right turn toward the garage exit.

"You know I'm impressed by your professionalism." Andy ignored and continued down the wrong path. "Thomas is lucky to have you on his team" he explained as he rolled to a stop behind a car inline to exit.

"Um thank you." You shifted in your seat at the impromptued complement. You hadn't done anything special or out of the ordinary. You just took notes like any other paralegal would.

Was he head hunting you? You heard about big firms doing stuff like that, but not for paralegals that were a dime a dozen.

Andy made no effort to change course and you felt increasingly uncomfortable as he inched closer to the exit.

"Um...you know I will just get security to escort me to my car from here." You pointed at the man in the glass box guarding the exit. "Thank you" you reached over to touch the door handle and heard an immediate click of the lock snapping shut.

"Don't move a muscle." You froze at his command.

"I wouldn't get out if I were you." He warned glancing at the rear-view. "Your boss might frown at you getting out of the apposing consoles car."

Stiffly you turned to peak over your seat, a cold chill fell over your body at the sight of Mr. Thomas car waiting in line behind Andy's in the queue. If you got out now you would be in deep shit. You slunk down low in the seat, in a veiled effort to hide. You shouldn't have gotten in this car. What the hell were you thinking?

"Come work for me" Andy casually grabbed his ticket to feed to the machine as he rolled to a stop. So this was just a job offer? If that was the case you were sure there were better ways to go about it. You had a nice chemistry with the old defense attorney and you were not interested in the stress of the DA's office or the pay cut you were sure to get.

"Um I'm not looking for a new job." You rejected him nervously. Hoping he would turn around and let you out.

"At least here my offer."

It seemed as you had no choice in the matter as he proceeded to pull out onto the road.

Your lips pressed into a frown. If you placate him, maybe he would let you go. He was a DA after all he wasn't going to hurt you tried to convince yourself.

"Fine, what is it?"

---

"Come work for me and I don't charge you with witness tempering"

Your eyes went wild at the allegation. "What!"

A lot of firms were dirty, but yours was not one of them. The cases you handled with Mr. Thomas didn't even rise to that level. At most he handled cases of over zealous brokers, financial fraud cases or embezzlement. The only time you ever came in contact with a witness Mr.Thomas was there with you. And even if it did you would never take penitentiary chances to get a leg up on the competition.

"Don't worry it's not true. I know your a good girl" he glanced over at you with a smirk. The praise graded you as you sat still stunned. "But that won't stop me from charging you. I'm willing to bet that until you get yourself untangled from the mess I am going to make of your life, your boss and his associates wouldn't think twice about letting you go."

You stared at him in disbelief. You barely said two words to this man, yet he was ready to blow up your life. And for what? For you to work for him? "And from what I know of paralegal salaries I would bet you could afford a public defender at best."

"Mr. Thomas would defend me" you scoffed.

"I wouldn't count on it. Because I would take him down too if he tried." He was serious.

You fell back on the seat as your head swam with the madness. You tried to think what you could've done to bring this on.

--

You had been to the DA's office a handful of times so when you saw the familiar building in the horizon you shrunk further in the leather seat.

Andy pulled into a reserved parking spot as the clock crept closer to midnight.

You didn't belong here. Maybe if you got out you could run for it. Make a mad dash somewhere and call the cops. But what would you say? The DA threatened you with a job, kidnapped you and took you to his office? They would think you were insane.

"Let's start your interview." He announced as he killed the engine. You pursed your lips and frowned deeply.

You were being made to interview for a job you didn't want nor ask for.

“Please, I have to get home.”

Andy paid you no mind, slamming the door in the face of your plea. Your eyes followed him as he headed toward the stone steps to the building.

What did he expect for you to do? Show up tomorrow at your office and sit on prosecutions side? You doubted the judge nor your boss would allow that to fly.

You watched him as you stayed paralyzed in the car. This had to be a joke or a dream. Had you slipped in the parking garage earlier and bumped your head. You tried pinching yourself to snap out of it only to be disheartened by the gravity of this situation.

---

Andy led you down the empty hallways, until he stopped at a door that bared his name.

You stood back while he unlocked it and motioned you to go inside. You couldn't move, dread cemented you in place. It was a miracle he had got you to come this far.

Andy tsked and shook his head in disappointment as he walked inside.

You tried to play back every encounter, every word you could've uttered that could've spearheaded this, but there was nothing.

You would've been surprised if he even knew your name, you couldn't even recall it being mentioned during the depositions.

While you drowned in despair Andy shimmed out of his blazer, tossing it on a chair off to the side.

"You're wasting your potential with Thomas" Andy declared, perching himself on the edge of his desk.

"I can tell your very focused and career driven." He continued on. It was surreal, watching him unbutton and roll up his sleeves. Like a disappointed father ready to reprimand their child.

"I noticed it from the start." The anticipation of what was to come became too much under the weight of his stare. You hugged yourself defensively while warm Tears streamed down your cheek.

It was as if he were a wolf ready to swallow you whole. You squeezed your eyes shut unable to hold his stare.

"Eyes on me" he said firmly. You sniffed uncontrollably as you forced them back open. "Good girl" Andy praised, adjusting his cock. He delighted in this, wetting his bottom lip, reveling in your discomfort.

"With a little more discipline and guidance you will reach your full potential. And I want to help you do that" Andy grunted as he loosened then knot of his tie.

Andy stayed sat before you unmoved by your tears as he slipped the fabric from around his neck, pulling it taunt with one hand while wrapping it around the other.

"You just need a firm hand to mold you. Or you can stay out there and watch as I turn your world upside down."

What could you say? He had you where he wanted you. You held your head low, sobbing to yourself as you approached him. You were no match for the power of the DA's office.

Andy rose from his perch and circled you like a shark with blood in the water. "Hands behind your back." He whispered into the shell of your ear. You looked back at him eyes wet with tears pleading. He sighed disappointed again taking matters into his own hands. You whimpered as he pried your hands from their hold, forcing them behind your back.

"Please Mr. Barber " you chanted as he encompassed your wrist with the tie. Knotting it so tight you feared for the circulation of your hands.

---

Andy's firm body pressed against you, his arms wrapped around you, roaming your body freely. The fabric of the tie burned as you struggled to free yourself. He ripped open your cheap blouse with ease, groping your breast over your bra. You withered in his embrace, unable to fight back.

"You made it hard to concentrate" he hummed into your neck while he played with your hard nipples over the fabric. The heat of his breath and the kneading of your breast electrified the coil that tightened in your core.

You tried to crouch into your shoulders, but Andy cupped your chin harshly. Forcing you to expose your neck to him and endure his assault. You went rigid when his other hand started to trail down your abdomen, tunneling past your waistline in desperate pursuit of your mound.

"Sitting so quiet, taking notes."

Your tears glazed Andy's hand as he forced you to look at him as he plunged beneath the elastic of your panties. His eyes clouded with lust at the sight of your facial contortions. Your clit buzzed as his fingers moved over it. You clamped your thighs tightly around his palm in an effort to stop further intrusion, but he pressed on. Rubbing firmly against your mound repeatedly, sparking an unwanted warmth. You felt shame and guilt as heat pooled in his hand.

"Hmmm so ready to be my perfect little helper." Andy purred.

"Are you ready to be molded by me" he teased. Andy pushed his fingers inside of you, releasing a gasp you could not contain.

"Fuck you're so tight" Andy cursed in your ear while he fingered you.

You bit down on your lip to stop the moan trapped in your throat. The embarrassing wetness, the involuntary moans, it was as if your body no longer belonged to you. Andy manipulated you like a puppet on a string.

You exhaled deeply when he pulled his fingers from you and released your neck. You panted from the over stimulation.

He built up a need and left you cradling on the edge. Without warning Andy spun you by the shoulder to face him.

"Look at you my needy little helper. Ready to learn." He smirked at you.

Your eyes went wide when he began unfastening his belt. You didn't want to find out what he would use that for. Your flight response started to kick into high gear as he closed the space between you.

Reflexively you took a step backwards, almost stumbling to the floor when you tripped on the leg of the chair behind you.

There was no way out of the room without going past him. You doubted you would get far even if you tried. The back of your legs hit his desk, halting your movements.

"Gonna be my perfect little helper?"

You opened your mouth to finally scream, but Andy swiftly rushed you. The grip on your neck felt deadly as you croaked. He leaned his weight on you, tipping you over until you slammed hard on his desk.

Whatever trinkets he had on his desk dug into your back and arms painfully. Andy wedged himself between your thighs, and haphazardly fumbled with his pants. Pushing them down with one hand as he kept you pinned with the other. You bucked and squirmed when you felt his need pressed on your pelvis.

Your skirt had rode up past your waist leaving your thin panties the last line of defense.

"Don't do this please Mr. Barber please I'll work for you please." Choked out incoherently.

You bucked more feverishly when he yanked your panties to the side. The tip of his cock lined up against your entrance.

"That's it. That's my good little helper. So wet for me." Andy praised as his sunk into you as he kept a firm hold on your neck. Your pussy pulsed around him as you strained to adjust. He made you painfully full.

Andy lifted up your left thigh, allowing himself to sink deeper. The added weight of him on top of you married with the pain from your arms.

His focused grip on your neck helped muffle your mewls, but not the sloppy sounds of your cunt. You turned away from his face as he rolled his hips into you. Only to be met with the smiling faces of his family. The facade of his wholesome life seemingly entrained by your predicament.

"Perfect little cunt fits me so well."

Your pussy clenched with every praise to your shame. There was no way to bite back the need he fed deep within you. Your stomach tensed as a staggered moan fell from your mouth.

Your feet curled in the air as your thighs squeezed around him. You felt of mix of shame and disappointment as you came around his cock.

Loosening his grip on your neck Andy could no longer hold himself back. He filled you to the brim, his seed seeped out of you as you milked him dry.

He laid on you briefly, panting heavily before pulling off. Carefully adjusting himself as he watched his cum drizzle down your raw cunt. "Get yourself cleaned up. We have cross in a few hours."

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