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tetsusangel · 1 month

Note

yayy okay so let's talk about dp with bullies satosugu but it's an au where they're both demons and reader is a pretty angel

gojo and geto like to have a little fun tormenting innocent humans, but lately their plans have been "ruined" by reader

she spoils their fun because it's her duty to protect humans but also because she's kinda hoping to get the boys' attention

they come up with a plan to surprise her and finally give her what she wants: to have her cute angel holes filled by her favorite bullies 💦🩷

a/n: omg nonny i haven’t written in ages and this is my first req after redoing my whole blog and im sososo happy you shared this thot with me im literally creaming

cw: dom!satosugu, sub!reader, multiple orgasms (reader), overstim, pet names (princess, baby, sweet/pretty/good girl), slight degradation, sprinkle of praise, double penetration (1 hole), cunnilingus, 'toru slaps your cunt twice, he also "slaps" your face once, oral (m! and f! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dumbification (sorry i couldn't help myself), MDNI, lmk if i missed anything!!

w/c: 1.4k

Devil!Satoru and Devil!Suguru are the WORST! They make your life as the resident caring angel so hard :( They’re always prancing around toying with oblivious humans.

Before they met you, their antics were occasional and spontaneous. But when they first saw you swoop down and save the poor innocent soul they had been messing with, they knew they had to see you again. Even if that meant going out of their way to torment more humans than they were interested in doing.

And they knew you were enjoying it. Not enjoying saving the humans, but enjoying seeing Satoru and Suguru. The two men were constantly bored and aching for a new plaything, those plain humans just weren’t cutting it anymore. They needed to get their hands on you and that sweet cunt you’d been hiding from them.

They also knew you were too shy to say anything. You were just a pretty little angel trying to stop two big, mean devils from harming the one thing you had sworn to protect. So of course, they kept on with their torments towards those inferior humans. And you, of course, kept coming in to save the day.

“That’s enough! Don’t you guys think it’s time you give those poor humans a break. They haven’t done anything to you” You scolded, putting up a horrible act of pretending you weren’t enjoying their company.

Deep down all three of you knew that something was bound to happen soon. You were all reaching your breaking point. Soon enough they’d give you exactly what you want from them, and they would take exactly what they want from you.

Devil!Satoru and Devil!Suguru wouldn’t be able to hold the title of devils if they weren’t as good as they were in teasing you and slowly breaking you down into the perfect pet for them. But to do that, they’d need you to open up first. What better way to coax a kind hearted angel out of her shell than to surprise her?

As you laid down on your back against the plush expanse of your bed, you wondered why you hadn’t seen or heard anything from Satoru and Suguru. It had been an entire week of peace and quiet; something you weren’t used to and something you didn’t miss.

You didn’t enjoy seeing pure-hearted humans get hurt by them, but you did enjoy the way Satoru and Suguru looked at you when you scolded them. Like they were going to eat you up and, God, you wished they would.

Pulling a pillow over your head you groaned. “Aww poor baby, somethin’ wrong?” A muffled voice called out from your right. A voice that sounded a lot like….Satoru? “She must’ve missed us. I think she likes us more than she’d like to admit” Another voice calls out, this time from your left and the sound is similar to the honeyed voice of Suguru.

Amidst your confusion, the pillow you had used to cover your face was ripped from your hands and lo and behold were the two missing men. Before you can stop yourself, you whined out a quiet “I missed you”. By the looks on their faces, you could tell they had missed you too. And that they definitely had something planned for you.

“Yeah, baby? You missed us? Fuck, we missed you too. Our sweet, little angel. Always pretending she’s coming down to save those worthless humans when she really just wants to be near us.” Satoru starts.

“No- No I” This time, you’re cut off by Suguru. “Don’t be like that pretty girl. We missed you too. In fact, Satoru and I wanna show you how much we missed you”.

You couldn’t believe it. You’ve waited for so long for them to finally give you what you’d been craving since the day you saved the first human they tormented. Were you dreaming? Were you in heaven? No, of course not. Devils aren’t allowed in heaven. This was hell.

Everything happens so suddenly. You're flipped on your hands and knees, Satoru behind you and the tent in Suguru’s pants is right in front of your face just begging to be touched. Before you can even pick a hand up to unzip Suguru, you feel a large hand flip your skirt up followed by two long digits rubbing against your clothed pussy.

Another whine escapes your lips as Satoru’s ring and middle finger draw tight circles around your clit from above your panties. When Satoru finally drags your panties down and off your ankles is when Suguru speaks up again. “C’mon princess, don’t keep me waiting. We’ve been so patient with you. Don’t make us be mean to you on our first day. Or would you like that?”

The whimper that escapes your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by the two. Suguru drops his boxers and jeans, kicking them off as fast as he can. “Kiss the tip baby- Fuck, that’s it. Good girl” The praise is sent straight between your legs and a chuckle from Satoru lets you know he felt your needy cunt clench around his fingers.

“You like that, baby? You wanna be praised? But you’re acting like such a slut. What kind of angel lets two devils use her like this? Oh sweet girl, you’re so wet. You like when I’m mean to you?” You want to say no, you want to tell him it isn’t true (it is true), but Suguru shoves himself farther down your throat, a guttural groan sending vibrations all over your body.

You’re so focused on trying to take Suguru down your throat that you don’t realize Satoru getting impatient. A sharp slap on your clit brings your attention back to Satoru. You barely get out a “S’toruuuu” before he does it again. Another cross between a moan and a whine leaves your mouth causing Suguru to buck his hips into your face.

Satoru can tell you’re getting distracted again, but this time he opts to wrap his soft tongue around your clit while his ring and middle finger slip inside your wet folds, scissoring you open. They’re both so overwhelming, Satoru behind you slurping away at your sweet pussy and Suguru wrapping a hand around your head and pulling it back and forth on his dick.

And then as if they were connected telepathically, they both pull away at the same time. Your head is spinning, the only thing on your mind is making sure you end the night with them stuffing you full of their cum.

Satoru leans back against the headboard and pulls you into his lap, your back facing Suguru. And finally, finally, he slowly sinks you down on his fat length. It’s already too much for you but Suguru is right behind him, they’ve waited long enough. You can take them both. As soon as you’ve settled down on Satoru, Suguru is pushing into you.

“W-Wait, fuucckkk, ‘s too much! Too big!” You cry out, but the two devils don’t seem to care. They buck their hips into yours, the room filled with echoes of your whines and moans of “C-Can’t”, “Wan’ more” and “Please d-don’t stop”. Soon enough you’re not talking at all. You’ve cum more times than you can count. The overstimulation was too much for you to handle.

Your eyes have rolled into your head and the only thing you can think of is Satoru and Suguru and Suguru and Satoru. A light slap on the right side of your face gets you to look at Satoru but he can tell from that far-away look in your eyes that you aren’t completely here anymore. That’s okay though. He knows he wanted this, he knows Suguru wanted this, and he for sure knows that you needed this.

“Suguru, shit, I think our sweet, little angel has gone dumb” A groan is heard from the other man. “Fuck, what slut. She takes us so well.” G-Gonna cum soon” A response is heard almost immediately “M-Me too. You gonna cum for us one more time, pretty girl?” Suguru’s hand snakes around your waist to use a finger of his to rub fast and messy circles around your puffy clit.

No longer able to respond, you arch your back further into Satoru causing your head to lean back on Sugurus shoulder as you whine out in overstimulation. Their thrusts become erratic and you know they’re getting closer and closer and finally they fill you up as you cum. The sticky, sweaty smell of sex overwhelms your senses. Another tap is felt on your shoulder, “Hey pretty, let’s get you cleaned up”

#gojo smut #geto smut #gojo x reader x geto #stsg x reader #satosugu smut #satosugu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #satosugu o(>ω<)o #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen #bia.nsfw #gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut

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tremendum · 1 year

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heyy, can you write din djarin x reader where she's smth like a princess and he's hired as her bodyguard by her father or brother whatever you want (I know this is basic plot but can't help it 😭) tysm❤️🥰

i got u babes! its cute ive never written something like this but i hope u like it!! <3 its fluffier than anything ive really written to tysm for the request! also this is NOT PROOF READ im sorry

after midnight

(gif not mine!) pairing: din djarin x fem!reader (afab, use of terms like princess/duchess/daughter) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 6.2k summary: “you were... a princess. you were untouchable, and he knows better than to fall for one of his jobs. so he'd made a tower of armor to protect him from any attraction; but with every passing day he spent in your company, you happened to slip through those cracks like you were made for it.” warnings: mentions of political unrest/uprisings, reader resents their parents/family because monarchy is BAD folks, threats of death, but smut (PiV, unprotected), mutual masturbation (m&f), teasing, light themes of possession at one point, mentions of eating. cumplay/creampie. i think that's it.

★

YOU are no stranger to fear.

it's been a gently lived life for you, in your several decades orbiting the power of your parents' suns.

the duchess of your family's system, the 'Prize Jewel' your mother loves to say; the one who got the love of the people but sought none of the power.

you weren't the heir, not to the throne: that duty fell unto your younger brother, as per custom tradition. so you were coaxed into a life of sitting around, humming as your ladies in waiting braided your strands, staring longingly as your brother wielded blasters and vibro-blades; as if that is what constituted a good ruler.

so perhaps the fear you've grown accustomed to is the fear of the mirrors that so delicately lined your chambers; the mirror that appears on your own face as any noble speaks to you, as your father commanded you to embark on diplomatic missions that should be left to those who have any stake in the future of the system. the mirror which constricts any true personality or truth from presenting you to the galaxy. you were the duchess, your parents' daughter; you were not yourself.

you'd never gone off world, to either of the other planets in the crown's domain - until the day you did.

that kind of fear was different.

the tumultuous tracks of your heartbeat when that creaking drop ramp was sealed, those days ago; the footsteps that rang out like funeral chimes as the tall Mandalorian bowed his head to you before escorting you upwards into the cockpit of the ship that was to take you to the other side of the system.

you were not, though, afraid of him.

Mando had been your shadow for several months before you left on your enterprise - you were no longer frightened by the cold, sharp angles of his body, the dark rumbling of his scarce voice. now, that same low hum as he listens to you is welcomed. encouraged. sought for.

no, the fear was from something else; there was a scratching, a slow but insistent simmering that tightened the muscles of your lower back and your upper neck until you woke up in sharp gasps of discomfort.

maybe the fear was in the winding hills that turned into mountains, jagging up and into the sky; your fear clung to you even as you lifted your legs and climbed over top of them - those towers to the sky - and settled yourself with the acknowledge that your parents had sent you on this diplomatic embarkment to a hostile insurgence group with nothing more than the Mandalorian bodyguard and a datapad containing an ultimatum which was surely the fuse to the ticking bomb of your family's dominating sovereignty. the crashing of a scepter, or the squashing of a bug.

thankfully your father, in all of his Majesty's grace and wisdom, had offered you a full set of your Ladies of the Household on your journey - as if they'd protect you from blaster fire, or kidnapping, or whatever joys may have lied in wait for you once you reached the rebel territory.

and he knows you are highly mistrusting of those parasitic Mynocks he calls the Kingsguard; that was in fact the sole reason he'd hired the Mandalorian to be your personal guard.

so your father at least had the sense not to call upon the lord commander to escort you, as it would be likely you'd either be dead come nightfall or your cot would be empty come morning rise.

so he'd insisted on only the Mandalorian instead.

a fiercely dauntless man, a walking shield, as clever as he is dangerous.

after seeing him fight, there was no doubt Mando could protect you from hundreds if he needed to.

there was a stint by another insurgent rebel group, of which your family was battling many currently; they'd made threats on your life, so Mando has shown up with a personal arsenal and enough intimidation to make any man fall to his knees.

it took all of thirty seconds of staring at his figure, hearing his voice, to decide you'd fall to your knees for him, too.

and just before you were ordered to visit the duke of the defecting planet, you were informed he would be replacing the four kingsguard subordinated to Mando who usually escorted you around the kingdom.

one man instead of five? you were sure the King was finally sending you to your death, punishing you for his lifelong regret that you'd not been a son.

but you soon came to like Mando and his stoic, taciturn presence.

and at least your instructions were simply to deliver the ultimatum and leave the atmosphere within the hour; the insurgent's strategists would not, as your father and his Hand had believed, have enough time to read through the full terms before deciding they should just break into the duchess's chambers and slit her throat anyways.

you escaped the planet with nothing but a blaster shot grazing Mando's side and the hate of an entire species of oppressed constituents hurling insults at the Crown.

no slit throat for you - but in the end, you wouldn't even blame them if they'd tried.

you know, now, that your fear clouded your eyes, as bright as they may have been back when Mando was hired as your bodyguard. but they grew thick, the clouds lifting into the stratosphere and slipping into Mando's helmet with the modulated, quiet inhales you've come to know almost as your own. you don't think he ever intended to frighten you.

he was there to protect you. and he has.

he has not left you since arriving to the midway planet, where you'll stay for a few days before returning back to your kingdom planet.

here, there is fresh air, the salt of the sea, deep ripe fruits, and warm breezes. there is no fear here, only heat.

Mando helps with that, though he won't let you admit it.

as you stare at that unwavering gaze, surrounded by the gilded intricacies of the farewell feast, all you can do is imagine him. Mando, his body on yours, that cold, heavy metal against the thrill of your heated bare skin. he tilts his head slightly at you; you wink at him over your cup of wine. the man next to you makes conversation about your father's latest agriculture subsidies.

you look back to find the relaxing - bone chilling- gaze on you still. you wonder if he'll crack before you do.

there have been close calls; once, when you'd drank a bit too much ale in the city square and Mando had carried you back to the keep, tucked you into bed as you tried to pull him in with you - you should stay, Mando - the time he'd agreed to teach you to spar and you'd ended up wide-eyed and pinned beneath his very sturdy frame.

you've seen the pressure on his flightsuit beneath those layers when you'd teased him - his own admission of guilt, that he feels something for you, too.

when you'd asked him to help you shoot a blaster, when you'd left the fresher open to shower, or not particularly covering up when you prepared yourself for the day. though he was always there, always at attention for the slightest danger.

even last night, you felt the stuttering in his breaths when you'd sat on your bed, staring down at him - his hand in the nook of your knee, the other unlacing your sandals that'd crawled up your supple calves the entire day. you'd felt his leather hands brush against the soft skin of your thigh, the way that helmet had stared up at you from between your legs. at your service.

you know he could see the way you jolted when he'd place his hands on your hips in passing, or how you'd get particularly flustered at the flip of a blaster trigger, the flex of a muscle under a flightsuit. you didn't try to hide your attraction to him.

but all of those things; those moments you had - even the subtle brushes of his hand just low enough on your lower back, the smiles you'd share even with the barrier of his cold beskar, the soft conversations you'd hold just between the two of you: all, under the soft shadows of the moons which orbit you.

never in the broad daylight.

those souvenirs, the ones which you held close to your heart in the last few weeks, high up in the pews of your heart's cathedral; all idolized yet forgotten with the mornings that rise in clean beskar glinting and sleep rubbing from your eyes.

DIN is sure you're looking straight through him.

those eyes; you're coy the way you look at him now, over the meal you eat at the table.

swirling with mischief.

that trouble-making look, the one he's studied for months as your personal guard. to the constituents of your family's crown, you were the sweet, young girl destined to marry away and sire many noble children. but behind palace doors, you were alive, you were a bolt of electricity that was never to be tamped down.

Din remembers how fiery you'd been when the King had ordered Mando to escort you to the insurgents with your Ladies of the House. you'd requested they not accompany you in this formidable expedition because, as he recalls you'd said, 'how can my bodyguard spare to protect not me but also ten others? shall we just get it over with and behead us all right here?'

he'd smiled behind that helmet when the King and Queen had heard your snippy tongue.

and so it was just you and him, as it'd been for months. and he likes it that way, as much as he would never admit that; you're a kind woman, much too old to be under the reigns of your parent's power but too caught in the web of bureaucracy to untangle yourself from it.

Din sees you tilt your head at him, blatantly ignoring the conversation at the table. heat courses through him at your adamant, keen attention on him despite him likely being the least worthy of your thoughts in this room. still, as always, you tease him.

a drop of a wink; syrupy, sweet, and much too indecent for the public space; much less for you to deliver towards your personal guard. he burns red under the helmet, heat rushing down towards his groin at the way your lips move around the spoon in your mouth.

you know he's watching you, of course; he's always watching you. it's in the job description.

maybe that's the problem: he watches too much. it's always been hard for him to remain simply professional with you, but it's been much more challenging the last few nights as he's tried to get a few hours of shut-eye in the dead of night; with your sweet soft breaths on that large, plush bed that nearly swallows you whole.

it's been excruciating - watching, as you run your hands over your bare legs, kissed by a sweet silk nightgown. massaging your plush skin, slipping just above the hem before dipping down - your lashes fluttering up at him as he stands tall and at attention over you.

he was a dead man, and he'd known it the moment he laid eyes on you.

you were... a princess. you were untouchable, and he knows better than to fall for one of his jobs. so he'd made a tower of armor to protect him from any attraction; but with every passing day he spent in your company, you happened to slip through those cracks like you were made for it.

he wonders if the true tragedy after all was his not watching: although you'd left the crack in the door when you'd stepped into the fresher last night, toweling off your soft skin as steam curls round the doorframe and pulls at him like the tentacles of some lust-ridden beast. you'd given him one of those coy smiles last night as you'd slinked out of the fresher: "thought you said you were always watching, Mando."

you had him wrapped around your dainty, manicured finger and you knew it.

your brows raise at him as you look back up to where he stands, just on the other side of the table, as the diplomats around you at the table buttering you up with a glass of wine, a divine feast, and fancy political phrases.

it doesn't suit you, as you've claimed to him countless times as you strip the bangled gold from your neck, ears, fingers, thighs and slip into something a little more comfortable and a lot less modest. it doesn't really suit you, he guesses. he likes you much more in the throes of your casual time; wearing trousers and a tunic, blaster strapped to your thigh though you don't quite know how to wield it. when you have no handmaidens to primp you and pluck you, to comb their fingers through your hair or paint fancy colors onto your eyelids. you were heavenly like that, in your most comfortable state.

that word; heavenly. the word sounds adolescent, when he looks at you.

you transcend beauty; you're alive, you're nothing but yourself, a woman with life and regret that her world bore her name long before she was born. you told him, as he escorted you through the war-torn scrappings of the insurgent city the day before, that you wished to be free from the chains of royalty. to the royal court, you were nothing but a mirror for them to project their desires.

when you look up at him with those tempting eyes, smirking at him when nobody at the table is looking - Maker, Din swears he will throw away everything he's worked so hard to keep professional.

YOU had pulled the best of the feast onto your napkin once you bid the hosts thanks for the feast, hiding it under the layers of your gown as Mando walked you back to your chambers.

"I kept you some." you offer meekly now, heat painting your face as you offer the spread to him, having taken off your shoes yourself this time. he'd kept his sight on you the whole time, the visor of his beskar piercing you with each movement.

his helmet tilts in question; you spread open the napkin to reveal the small feast of delicacies you'd packed for him. you wonder how he'd missed it, when his eyes were always on you.

"you shouldn't have." he's demure in tone, shifting from his casual position leaning against one of the stone pillars near the intricate dressing screen to standing evenly on both long legs; you smile gently, heart fluttering.

"I thought you deserved some of the feast." you reason, "you did more work than I did, after all." you grin, shrugging a shoulder. you feel the fabric slide over your bare shoulder and it brushes against you like a feather; a ghost of lips that could never be blessed upon your skin.

cursed to always lie in weight under the heavy support of beskar.

but his fingers; they're a different story.

they're gentle, tingling as they brush up the expanse of your deltoid, cascading with a buttery kind touch to return your dress to its rightful place. his hand, swallowed by the leather that protects you so devotedly, trails down your arms, soothing every goosebump that rises in its path. your hand catches his wrist before he can pull away; the tantalizing, intoxicating air in the room rendering him languid as you pull, gently, until your lips press gently to the tip of his thumb.

his breath falters in a staccato as you gently, tenderly press kisses to the tips of each finger; each, a promise. an unnamed affection for the man who does nothing but protect, nothing but exhilarate. the movement feels like the stretch of a plastic band, stretching the tensile strength of your aptitude for waiting, for restraining yourselves.

you wait with baited breath for it to snap in your faces.

it doesn't, though. his hand falls away gently, leaving you to still orbit around each other like lonely stars, crossing paths every few blue moons.

when he speaks, he sounds almost strained. "thank you, ner cyar'ika. you are kind."

your cheeks are warm and they heat up more when you smile up at him. and this time when you step away into the fresher, you make sure the door is fully closed.

the water is warm, curling tendrils of milky sweet oils that bathe your skin in a sweet, plush aroma. you return to the main room slowly after you bathe, ensuring he'll have enough time to return his helmet to its proper place before you see. you wring your hair out with your hands as Mando rises from where he sat on the loveseat; his full height shining that reflective metal against you. your warped, clean, scrubbed reflection stares back at you.

he.... he sees you.

you've always noticed it; maybe that's why you'd commanded your father's men to leave you at the first sight of the Mandalorian's skills - you see a lot of yourself in him. a life concealed behind the preceding reputation: a princess - young, beautiful, generous, stagnant. a Mandalorian - bounty-hunter-turned-guard, sturdy, resourceful, rough.

mirrors follow you no matter where you go. they've been thrust upon you your entire life, every snaking hallway of the kingdom winding down reflective images of your youth, bouncing you from person to person, nothing but a blank canvas for the aristocracy to paint their whims upon.

you suspect, as you stare at Mando's unwaveringly reflective armor, that he understands that more than either of you could know. your heart soars with affection as you pad up to him, craning your neck to take in his entire height.

"did you enjoy it?" you ask with a small smile, combing your fingers through your wet hair. he nods, "yes, cyare. thank you."

you shake your head, unburdened by the gesture of gratitude. "let me guess- your favorite was the..." you pinch your chin with your fingers, scrunching your nose as you pretend to think. "chocolate cake." you say finally, tilting your head as you try to gage his reaction.

a tilt of a helmet, flickering in the candlelight of your chambers. "yes." he sounds surprised; as if you didn't know just as much about him as he knew of himself. it sparks butterflies in your stomach.

"I know you like it sweet, Mando." you tease, sending him a soft wink as you set your face cloth down on the table he leans against; you stare up at him from this angle, your movements molasses as you smile, hand sneaking around his ribs to hold him lightly. his hand rises tentatively to steady your waist, thumb rubbing the satin of your nightgown. "don't worry, I do too." you whisper.

he sighs.

it's a soft, gentle thing; one that nobody would dare imagine your big, bad Mandalorian protector to ever release. but you know him. you see him - Mando is many things, and one of them is hesitant. not unwilling, or shy: hesitant.

(you'd wait a thousand lifetimes for him.)

"cyar'ika," he starts, tone slipping into that gently warning one - the kind he gets when he's feeling bashful. "I don't like it when you tease me." he chides, and it's - kriff, it's playful. you can almost see the grin behind that helmet; his fingers pinch at your sides gently and you screech with laughter, swatting away his touch but hoping he'll soon return it, much like a magnet.

"you do, though." you defend, emboldened by the privacy and the budding tenderness that coaxes you into his arms. his hands soothe over your hips as you stare in silence.

warmth surrounds you; coaxes you to mutter it-

"stay with me, tonight?" you whisper, eyes wide at your own words, shocked you'd finally given in to all of the hunger that has swirled between you for all this time. his helmet tilts. "I am always here with you. my job is to watch you." he says gently, the lilt of guilt ever present in his voice.

you shake your head, eyes shutting in frustration - not at him, never - at who, then? your father? your mother? the last name you've been cursed with for your life? the privilege, the restraint?

"Mando." you say, pressing your palms flat against his chest. "you know what I mean." your eyes swirl with emotion: please, Mando, I can't keep waiting like this.

he waits. "it would be wrong."

you tilt your head, "it wouldn't." but you, much like him, are at a loss for words. a life of inoculation has rendered you unable to express any semblance of amorous emotions, even to this man - the one who is your confidant, your protector, and possibly your only true friend in this world. "I need you. I will-" you swallow, your heart thundering with desire, "I will do anything for you, Mando."

you can't resist the growing wetness in the apex of your thighs as his helmet moves over your figure, wrapped in a silky robe and still wet from bathing. he hums lowly, a long and slow sound, his head tilting ever so slightly as you clench your thighs in search of relief from the growing pressure.

"I have wanted you since I met you." he sighs, hands falling from your shoulders. "but... I shouldn't touch you."

DIN can see your eyes flicker down as he says it.

maker damn you; you've always been too clever for him. he sees the hunger swirl in your blown out pupils, the same hunger that plagues his mind and has sent blood rushing downwards. he feels himself throb as you grin up at him, lashes fluttering as a droplet of silky water trails down the expanse of your bare, awaiting neck.

you know him, you see him. and he thanks all of the stars that you know how badly he needs you, too.

"well, if you can't touch..." you tilt your head to stare up at him through your lashes, loosening the robe which covers your silk nightgown; each inch that slips down your body, Din feels himself stiffen and heat with desire. "...you can at least watch." you whisper, letting the robe drop before you step back from his figure; his eyes trace over every curve, each smooth line and jagged bump.

when you're far enough away, he lets out a shaky breath. "gar Kelir ruin ni, dala" he mutters to himself, swallowing thickly as your figure slinks away from him, traipsing onto your plush bed.

his heart thunders in his chest; you lie on your back, gently, eyes meeting his somehow through the shield of beskar as you move your hands slowly, slowly up your legs. silk catches on your deft fingers as you tease yourself, sighing in relaxation.

Din, standing rigid as a pole as he watches you, cannot look away. you seem flushed, even as your fingers trail over your breasts, toying with the pert nipples which poke through the smooth fabric of your dress. a whimper; high-pitched, breathy as your eyes splinter to Din again. "fuck," you whisper, one hand dragging down to torturously drag the hem of your gown upwards, up, up-

he's salivating.

your thighs, plush and welcoming, spread as you spread your glistening cunt for Din to see. for him, he realizes, only for him. a dark wash of possession shudders his whole being as you let out a whimper, the cool air hitting your wet, hot heat as your fingers start to spread your juices; it takes every ounce of restraint from Din to not just pounce on you, take you right now.

your finger finds your swelling clit and your strangled groan sounds too much like his name - your eyes are hooded, littered with desire and pleasure as you lie out on display for him.

he can't help but watch; his cheeks, hot. his hands, clenched - his heart, thundering, beating hard as Din watches you touch yourself with hungry eyes. your moans are smooth, melodic to his ears as you slowly dip one finger into your heat, whimpering as the stretch as your greedy little hole swallows you up.

he can't stand it.

Din takes a step forward, a staggering, desperate step towards the bed- your eyes snap up from where they'd watched you take your own fingers, eyes blown wide. you whimper, you goddamn whimper it, "M-Mando."

YOU almost pass out when he mutters it, low and baritone.

"take it off." Mando mutters darkly.

you stop your languid pumps as you stare up at him, eyes wide as you see him, now looming just over you, eyes trained still on your heat.

slowly, you sit to peel the dress off of yourself, the material catching on your nipples and sending a shiver down your body.

you're soon bare; laid out for him, your entire body on display for him as you stare up, chest heaving with desire. his helmet does not leave your form as he watches your hand snake back down, toying with your wetness as it pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress below you.

there are thousands of things you wish to say; nothing escapes you except whimpers and moans, the muted, heated pleasure swirling through you as you slip your fingers into yourself, pumping languidly. if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine the bite of cold beskar on your bare chest; the thickness of a warm cock slipping through you.

your eyes stay on him instead, though; the reflection of your squirming, pleasured body on his beskar. you feel sweat sheen your forehead.

your heart nearly stops as Mando slowly starts to palm himself; his cock, hard and strained against the fabric of his flightsuit as his hands pull himself out of the pants. your eyes widen and your fingers start to pump into you quicker, moaning out Mando's name as his hand slowly starts to pump himself.

his cock, skin golden and veins prominent as he pleasures himself to the sight of you. arousal floods around your fingers as your other finger falls to lazily toy with your neglected clit. one hand grasps your breast and pinches a pert nipple, your back arching as you whimper.

you need Mando, you need him.

"fuck, fuckfuckfuck M-Mando, I need you. i-it's not enough, need more." you groan, the dam breaking as the low high you've been riding simmers.

he stops his own movements, his chest heaving beneath the beskar.

"I don't-" you swallow around your dry throat, "I don't think I can cum without you." you admit, heart thundering as you stare up at the beskar wall. "please."

he pauses and your words hand in the air; suspended by a string, one that is tight and ready to snap.

"stand up, princess." he orders.

DIN almost smiles at the speed at which you scramble on eager legs, to stand up, staring up at him with wanton need. he takes a deep breath before one hand reaches out to graze the swell of your breast; the plush give of soft skin, the goosebumps that trail behind his touch. his cock twitches as your hands find him, pumping slowly as you bite your lip.

he groans at the soft feeling of your gentle hands around his thickness; your lips grazing over his beskar chestplate.

his hands tug you as he falls to the mattress; a squeal leaves you as your hands grip onto his shoulders, "Mando!"

he grins beneath the helmet.

the smile slowly fades into a grunt of pleasure as you eagerly find your place straddling his hips; your wet hot cunt envelopes his cock with your slick, rubbing him as you whimper. "fuck, cyar'ika." he grunts. "gonna fuck you nice and good. promise." he mutters.

you smile as you nod, "maker, Mando. I've-I've dreamt of this." you mutter. he smirks- he knows you have. he's heard it.

but the pride is soon washed away with shock and pleasure as you line his head up at your entrance, easing onto him gently; his hands squeeze your bare skin and he wishes he could pull his gloves off and really feel you.

dank ferrik, you are so tight around him; swallowing his thickness in your greedy cunt as your breath stutters, gasping at the stretch. you're hot, wet, and Din's eyes shut tight at the feeling. kriff, he won't last long.

you take him gently, slowly, and all Din can do is breathe through it and resist his hips from bucking upwards and spearing you into two.

his brain is a puddle as you fully sheath yourself on him, thighs plush and shaking as you swallow him.

"that's good." he mutters, breath shaky, his hands guiding you to move against his hips, "how does it feel, princess?"

"Mando, fuck, y'so big, filling me-" you're moaning and he thinks he may pass out; heavenly, heavenly, you you you-

you groan as you start to fuck yourself on top of him, your gummy warm walls coaxing Din towards his high, having been spurred along by the pleasure you'd been giving yourself earlier.

you shudder at the curling sensuality of his words and he can feel you gripping him tighter and tighter, pulsing around him and dragging him down with you into the depths of pleasure. shivers of pleasure coast down your entire body as Din starts to piston up, his thick length, smooth and hard, spearing into your hot cunt. your desire drips down and smothers the fabric of his flight suit; briefly, he thinks he will never wash them again. your breath is laborious as you near your high- Din chases his, too, because this has already gone on for too long and he's greedy, as greedy as your tight, pretty cunt is and-

he lets out a splintering moan when you cum with a scream; your legs quivering, weakening as you slump against him. Din fucks you through your high with a moan of his own, pushing up into your pulsing pussy, the wetness easing him to spear into you with a fire of ecstasy.

"good- you're so good, y'feel so good, Mando," you whimper. that's it for him - he cums with a long groan, release snapping through him with a moan of your name.

he sees colors, shapes of you in a meadow, spread on a blanket with him taking you from above; with you riding him in the cockpit of his ship; you, thighs spread on your father's throne while he delves his tongue through your plush folds.

you are his. you will always be his, nobody else's. he will consume you.

he fucks up into you as he rides through his high, his seed smearing your chanel as he holds you close. "fuck," he mutters, rolling you both onto your sides as his hand caresses your cheek.

"s'good." you mumble, smiling at him.

he smiles back. you can't see it, but he knows you can feel it.

"m'not done with you yet, princess." he promises, tugging you towards the edge of the bed, spreading your legs to see his own seed leaking out of you, mixed with your own wet, sticky spend. it's a sight better than any he's ever seen; shivers of desire roll down Din's spine.

and then Din spends his time on top of you, pulling orgasm and orgasm from you until you're crying, shaking and heaving breaths; he's shaky, drunk from the pleasure of your wet arousal. he aches to taste you, to coax you to sleep with his tongue lapping up your spend; he needs to taste you.

perhaps, another time.

he soothes himself for now with his fingers, his cock; another time, he will taste you.

---

YOU are exhausted. you can barely stay awake; but as Mando lays with you between the sheets, you can't help but feel so alive. the sun starts to creep towards the horizon line, over the shimmering sea; the gentle breeze of the world flowing through the faint curtains.

"Mando?"

he cranes to look down at you, his thumb tracing over your spine.

"in the morning," you start, your hand trailing over his beskar. you figure it isn't comfortable to don this armor in the plush of your mattress; he stays no matter, willing to give you what you want. always, whatever you want. forever.

him.

you chew your lip, "will we- I mean, I just..."

a thumb, warm though marred with old leather, pulls your lower lip from the clutches of your pearled teeth, soothing over the plush, bitten skin. a shiver runs down your spine as he coaxes you to stare up into that endless helmet.

"what is it, mesh'la?" his voice is deep and soothing in its modulated baritone. you preen at the nickname in his native tongue and though he has willingly taught you words and phrases of his language, you are unsure of this one's translation. it sounds lovely coming from him.

"please don't take me back." you whisper.

he tenses under you; you can feel it. you wish you didn't have to plague him with your burdens of asking him such a crime; to take the duchess, the girl made of nothing but stardust, and give her the life she deserves.

a whisper of your name. quiet, an exhale gentle and barely picked up by the modulation function of the helmet.

DIN has been waiting for you to say it.

he wonders just about when he realized you were going to ask him to take you away. was it just now, after you'd finally connected in bliss? was it last night, when he'd taken a blaster shot to protect you - his job, of course, but a lifetime of debt to repay to him, you'd claimed - or, perhaps, was it all those months ago?

your words pull him from his shock as you mutter softly.

"would you take me with you? away?"

all the moments shared between your two souls wait with baited breath as Din tries to find his words through his thundering heart.

"in the morning..." he parrots your words from before, but with a different tone. regret. his heart thumps as you tilt your head, bare shoulder glinting in the light of the moons. "will you still want that? will you want..." he doesn't finish the question, but he doesn't have to. not with you. want me?

you look at him with eyes so soft he almost melts. "I've always dreamt of leaving my life. it's not who I am." you're firm in your words, hand curling over his shoulder as you blink, "I never thought I would act on it. I had nothing to do, nowhere else to go. but now..." you shrug and he starts to feel hot at the implications in your voice.

Din's heart thuds importunately under your sweet palm; could you feel it, under all the layers that separated his body from your bare one?

"if-if you'd have me... it'd be a dream to stay with you. wherever you go."

Din can't breathe; so many words burst to the forefront of his mind, but all he does is stare in awe.

you'd been watching life through the jail of your parent's grasp your whole life; and what is the princess of a mid-rim planet to the rest of the galaxy?

stardust.

"wasted dreams?" you ask softly, shaking your head, "that's worse than death, Mando."

YOU fall asleep with Mando's arms wrapped tightly around your middle; the weight of beskar pushing you deeper into the comfort of knowing you've spent your last night ever in this system.

his words echo in your head.

in the morning, mesh'la, we will leave here. wherever you'd like.

it's illicit; the things you're about to do, the traditions which will be seared. your eyes, bleary with exhaustion and hope, looks to the mirror across the room.

you lie in the arms of the Mandalorian, bare besides the plush sheets which wrap around your figures - and when you stare into the reflective piece of decor directly across, it's you who stares back in the reflection. you smile to yourself.

stardust.

those moments, you hope, will shine in broad daylight now in tandem with the sweet secrets after midnight.

taglist: @silkiers @toobsessedsstuff @millersdjarin @tizylish @cloufire @kalea-bane @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis @hello-th3r3 @bbyanarchist @ponyboys-sunsets

requests open. message for Din's taglist or Joel Miller's!

#din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader smut #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader smut #sw smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #tremendum’s space cowboy✒️

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blixssily · 10 months

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·˚ˎˊ˗ "and you've got a smile that can light up this whole town." ‧₊˚✧

࿐ included: gepard landau, serval landau, dan heng, blade, kafka, luocha *◞

࿐ summary: their reaction to seeing you smile and vice versa.

࿐ disclaimer: reader is gn, reader and character are in an established relationship, not proofread.

࿐ authors notes: im so sorry if any of these don't fit the character this is my first time writing for hsr :(

gepard landau ˚ ༘ ( 杰帕德 )

| when he sees you smile.

it feels like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. he's both happy and relieved you found his stories entertaining enough to make you smile. stories that he's kept inside his mind for too long, fearing he'll make the conversation awkward if he started recalling the little moments of his duties as the silvermane captain. you'll have to gently coax him out of his little shell, and when that happens you can't help but smile at how his eyes visually brightens as he's telling you all the details. (he isn't one to miss out any details when you of all people wanted to know!)

| when you see him smile.

you start to feel that familiar fuzzy feeling in your chest. his first time smiling at you after you two got into a relationship was right after your first kiss. a prominent pink blush dusted his cheeks, his lips a slightly different color than they were before, the culprit being the lipbalm you applied earlier. his eyes were looking straight into yours, but not his usual stare. no. this look was overflowing with love for you. he smiled and you swore it was the most gorgeous smile you've ever seen in your life. (he could argue the same with yours!!)

serval landau ˚ ༘ ( 希露瓦 )

| when she sees you smile

serval almost stutters on the lyrics to her opening song when she spots you in the crowd, smiling. she was a little bummed out before her performance since you had told her 3 days prior that you might not be able to make it. so when she sees you in the crowd smiling so brightly at her, her heart almost explodes. she really tried her best not to look at you for the whole concert but how couldn't she??? you had taken time out of your day to come see her! she definitely makes sure to send a few winks and kisses to your direction. after the concert she absolutely makes sure to run up to you, pulling you into a tight embrace (so tight you think it might pop your head off..)

| when you see her smile

your heart melts at the soft and drowsy smile she sent your way. you found serval huddled up at her desk, below the mess of her blonde hair were papers above papers of unofficial songs she has yet to put together. your cautious hand goes to tuck back a few strands behind her ear, kneeling down on the floor to admire the adorable state your girlfriend was in. she opens her eyes as you're about to grab a blanket for her, smiling hazily at you as she lets her grip on your wrist loosen. closing her eyes once more, you decided to wrap your jacket around her frame. quietly sitting beside her on the ground, drifting off into the land of unconsciousness with your girlfriend.

dan heng ˚ ༘ ( 丹恒 )

| when he sees you smile

his mind suddenly goes fuzzy, only concentrating on the sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter.he makes a mental note to thank march for begging him to at least try telling some jokes or using humour to the people he's close to. he's so, so glad he listened to her because right now, you were smiling and laughing at the tiny joke he made!! he blushes immediately when you open your eyes, still smiling at him. (now he puts in a little more effort to make your conversations just that little more enjoyable!!)

| when you see him smile

his arms are wrapped around your waist, you can feel his warm breath on your neck, the feeling making you giggle a little. he's an extremely light sleeper so he woke up almost instantly to your hushed laughter, trying your best not to wake him up (sadly it didn't work..) he smiles softly at you, relishing in this rare moment without being interrupted by anyone. he wishes he could stay in your embrace all day. he places a gentle kiss to your lips, uttering a soft "good morning" after pulling away.

blade ˚ ༘ ( 刃 )

| when he sees you smile

he's not sure how to interpret this foreign feeling in his heart.. your soft smile, giving him a silent goodbye and wishing him well on his mission. he freezes, only for a second before giving you a nod. he prays you didn't notice the faint blush dusting his cheeks (you did.) he didn't know how much he had missed that sweet smile until he came back from his mission, spotting you giving him another smile, another "welcome home". this time, he takes your hand and places a faint kiss on it. (a little promise to spend time with you for all the time he couldn't while out on his mission)

| when you see him smile

your heart melts at his pure confusion when you hand him a bouquet of flowers. namely, pink camellia's surrounded by baby's breath (pink: longing for you, baby's breath: everlasting love) he never thought he'd be the receiver to gifts, considering all the blood on his hands. he didn't think he was worthy of such gifts.you'll have to explain the flowers meaning to him and reassure him a lot. once you do, his face rivals the color of red roses. once he composes himself, he'll send you a faint smile, not the usual smirk he always has on. a real smile.

kafka ˚ ༘ ( 卡芙卡 )

| when she sees you smile

she was confused at first, locking eyes with you from across the room. you're smiling.. shortly after, a smirk formed on her lips, realising your eyes were filled with adoration. she walked over to you, hand tipping your chin up so she could look into your beautiful eyes. the same prideful smirk was quickly replaced with a humble smile. a quick kiss was placed on your nose as she mumbles the words "you're too adorable for your own good.." before squishing your cheeks with her fingers. (you scold her because its going to make your cheeks painful and red afterwards..)

| when you see her smile

your worried thoughts immediately get washed away the moment she smiles at you. despite her reassurance that it wasn't "that serious", you insisted on helping bandage her wounds up. she's recalling all the moments from the mission she went on while you're carefully placing ointment and bandages on her soft, pale skin. she always asks you to kiss the wounds individually, claiming it helps them heal faster to which you roll your eyes at. when youre all done she looks up at you, flashing a rare soft smile.

luocha ˚ ༘ ( 罗刹 )

| when he sees you smile

he came home to find you huddled up under the sheets of your shared bed, clinging to his pillow. he starts to feel bad for leaving you alone for basically the whole day, not ever wanting you to feel the dread and emptiness of being lonely. ever. he carefully removes his black gloves, making sure the sound of them being placed on the table beside the bed doesn't wake you up. he brings his hand up to your cheek, sitting on the edge of the bed now. his heart clenches when you smile and bury your face deeper into his pillow. (he made sure to bring it up the next morning, quietly laughing at your reaction....)

| when you see him smile

you almost laugh at his face instead of greeting him with a "welcome home". you decided to cook his favourite for dinner for the both of you while luocha was out. he never really expected anyone would do something like this for him. for most of his adult life he's lived alone so he's either had to cook dinner himself, eat somewhere outside, bring pre-cooked home or simply starve. he's so grateful for you, his arms snake around your waist, placing a kiss on your neck. you can tell he's smiling. you turn your head to see a soft but tired smile, his head leaning down to place another kiss on your lips this time.

notes and reblogs are heavily appreciated!!

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #gepard x reader #hsr gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #serval x reader #hsr serval x reader #serval landau x reader #dan heng x reader #hsr dan hang x reader #blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #kafka x reader #hsr kafka x reader #luocha x reader #hsr luocha x reader

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vivwritesfics · 4 months

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No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Hardest Thing Is Letting Go

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.9K words

Warnings: Funeral

guy's im still so sorry for this one, it's incredibly angsty - I promise I'll make things fluffier soon

Series Masterlist

"There was a time when I was afraid of the world. I was afraid of what was happening in my life and what it was becoming. I was afraid of the world we find ourselves being apart of."

Y/N had never addressed a room like this. Each and every mafia boss stared at her. Her own husband stared at her, with admiration in his eyes, Lando too. He was so proud of his little sister for doing something like this.

She shouldn't have to do it. The fact that she was standing in front of everybody to honour her best friend was astounding.

Tears were ready to fall, but Y/N wouldn't let them. She was going to be strong. For Oscar.

"There was one person who I could count on when I was this scared. He watched over me, kept me company and made me feel normal. There were times when I was breaking down and he'd play some music and get me to dance, taking my mind off of everything.

"That man was Oscar Jack Piastri."

She'd started writing this letter the moment that Carlos had gotten her back to Spain. It had started out as a letter to Oscar, with a lot more in it than she was willing to say in his funeral.

"Oscar wasn't a part of the Norris family," she continued. "In theory, we were never destined to meet. Every day since he first came into my life, I thank my lucky stars that we had him on loan from Webber."

Her hands shook as she turned the page.

"Without Oscar, I wouldn't be here today. He saved my life in so many ways. There was a time in my life, without him by my side, I would have ended it all."

The tears were free flowing now. Carlos stood from his seat and came to stand beside his wife, trying to gently coax her to sit down, but she wouldn't. She had a a speech to make.

She skipped over the next little section. That bit was for her and her only. "Oscar was the bravest of us all. He endured so much. He didn't have to be harsh or domineering to show just what power he had.

"But he was also kind and sweet." He was my soulmate, in the most platonic sense of the word.

Platonic, Y/N thought. But a small part of her was so sure, had circumstances been different, it would be Oscar she was in love with, Oscar who was holding her through the night. Even if they were still in with world of crime and mafia families, if Y/N didn't have to marry Carlos, she was sure she and Oscar would have been together.

She knew this before she got married, but she couldn't say anything. In another universe she would have loved Oscar.

"He saved my life more than once, and I will never be able to repay that debt," she said, wiping away the tears rolling down her cheeks. "He was the very best of us and our world will never be the same without him. Oscar-" But she stopped, just a second to compose himself. "Oscar..."

This time, when Carlos wrapped his arms around her, Y/N fell into him, crying against his chest. He held her for a moment, stroked her back and ran his fingers through her hair.

He moved Y/N behind him and addressed his fellow heads of family. "Oscar became a very dear friend of mine. Without him, I wouldn't have my beautiful wife standing by my side. To that, I say we raise our glasses-" Nobody had a glass in hand "-to a man we will sorely miss."

It was different to the funeral of Norris. The grief Y/N felt was different, harder to deal with.

After the funeral, Carlos took his wife home. They sat in the very back of the car as they were driven to the Webber plane hangar. Lando had organised food for everybody for after the funeral, but Y/N just couldn't be here. And Carlos knew it, too.

They sat beside each other on the jet, her head on Carlos's shoulder as she cried herself to sleep. Oscar was gone. The words still felt foreign to her.

It was incredibly long flight, with the couple stopping over in Malaysia. They had been the ones to take Oscar's body back to Australia, back to his family, to be buried. It meant a long trip for them, but they didn't care. After all that Oscar had done for them, this was the least they could do for him.

It was near a day later that they touched down in Spain. Their stay in Madrid had been short lived, just long enough to refuel the Spain. They should have stayed in Australia, the couple thought. But that was too painful.

Carlos drove them back to the house. He kept his hand on her leg as the radio played quietly, filling the space between them. They didn't have to speak; it wouldn't help anything for the time being.

"I wish he could have met baby Oscar," she whispered as they approached the gate in front of the house. She cradled her bump with one hand, the other on top of Carlos's.

Before the funeral, Carlos had insisted that they go to the hospital, for Y/N's first prenatal check up. They found out just how far along she was and the sex of the baby.

As soon as they found out they were having a boy, she knew they had to call him Oscar. Oscar Sainz, after the man that had saved his life. His middle name was chosen by his father. Pau, a Spanish name. OP Sainz. Their baby was OP Sainz.

Carlos drove through the gates when they opened and pulled into the garage. He opened the car door for Y/N and held her hand as they walked through the house. The house was different now, it felt colder somehow.

"I'm going to get us guard dogs," he said as they climbed the stairs.

Y/N nodded her head as she walked through the hall, heading towards the room that Carlos and Oscar had decorated for the baby. She hadn't seen it yet, just listened as Carlos told her about it to try and calm her down.

Her breath caught in her throat as she walked into the nursery. "You two did all of this?" She asked as she looked around the room, They had done everything, put up shelves and built the drawers and wardrobe. They'd painted the walls and set up the crib, including a little tee-pee tent full of cushions and blankets.

There was a blanket in the crib, one decorated with giraffes. Y/N picked it up and held it close to her chest as she looked around the room. Her husband and her best friend had done all of this for her baby. It was a living memory to Oscar, just like the baby would be.

"I'm thinking of painting his name on the door," said Carlos as Y/N turned towards him.

Y/N put the blanket back and fell against her husband, pressing her lips to his. "My wonderful husband," she whispered, her eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her softly.

He took her hand and walked her out to the window. "Take a look," he said and she looked to where the golf course used to be.

Carlos had set up an entire play area for their child. If Y/N had the strength to cry, she would have. But she couldn't anymore, her body too exhausted.

"What would you like for dinner, mi corazon?" He asked, his finger trailing up her arm.

"I just want to sleep, Carlos," she croaked, exhausted.

That was fine, he'd let her sleep. Carlos followed her out of the nursery. He watched as Y/N turned left, heading back to her old room. That was right, he hadn't told her yet. "Querida, wait!" He called as he grabbed a hold of her arm. "This way."

Carlos led her into his bedroom, the bedroom they now shared. He'd moved all of her things in during those twelve weeks that he had been alone. He sat her on the bed and got her changed into her loosest and comfiest pyjamas. "Sleep, mi corazon. I'll have dinner for you ready when you take up," he said and pulled the sheets back.

Y/N climbed under it. She closed her eyes as Carlos kissed her forehead and left the room.

He spent the next few hours making his way through work. It was comforting, having things back to normal. Or, as normal as they could be. Most of the work he went through was sorting through his fathers affairs.

After three hours of working, there was a knock at the office door. He glanced up briefly and returned to his work. "Not now, madre," he muttered under his breath as he strode into the room.

"¿Y? ¿Ya no hablamos nuestra lengua materna?" She asked as she sat in the seat opposite him. (And? Don't we speak our native language anymore?)

Letting out a sigh, Carlos looked up from his work and placed his pen down. "Podemos hablar nuestra lengua materna, madre. ¿Qué te gustaría hablar?" (we can speak our mother tongue, mother. What would you like to talk about?)

"No hemos tenido una cena familiar desde que murió tu padre," she said, correcting her posture and sitting up straighter. (We haven't had a family dinner since your father died.)

Carlos shut his eyes for a moment. It was their first night back in the house since Y/N's kidnapping. "Por favor madre. No es una cena familiar a menos que mi esposa esté allí. Después de todo lo que él ha pasado, ella necesita tiempo." (please mother It's not a family dinner unless my wife is there. After everything he's been through, she needs time.)

He stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he began as he switched back to English. "I'm going to make my wife some dinner."

Carlos strode out of his office, leaving his mother where she was.

And he really did make Y/N dinner. He didn't ask the cooks to do it, he got stuck in and made her something to eat. It was surprising, just how good of a cook Carlos was. It was also surprising how much he enjoyed it.

He made her dinner, along with a side of buttered toast, just in case she didn't want what he made her. He walked it up to the bedroom and placed it on the dresser as he gently woke her up. He whispered her name and shook her shoulder gently. "Wake my, mi amor. I made you dinner."

Y/N opened her eyes. It was clear from the way she stared at him, eyes wide, that her sleep hadn't been peaceful. Carlos placed the plates in front of her as she sat her. "Here, querida," he said and pulled the cutlery from his pocket.

She dug into her dinner, eating it all (including the toast). "My wonderful husband," she said as he placed the plates back onto the dresser.

Carlos climbed onto the bed and sat himself beside her. He grabbed a hold of her and pulled her onto his lap. "I love you," he whispered, his forehead pressed against hers. "My beautiful wife. I'm never going to let you go."

She grabbed his cheeks and lifted his mouth to hers.

Taglist (CLOSED): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong @sparklyperfectionstranger @venusesworld @goldenharrysworld @cassie0sstuff @gracielukey @watermelonworries @celesteblack08 @shobaes @chonkybonky

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kenmakodz · 2 months

Text

CANDID LOVE ˙✧˖📷

02. shitty sushi place ☆

writing in-between cuts!

you sigh, tucking your phone away— they’re way too close now to keep typing about them, it’d be obvious. it will be fine, you think. nobara has hung out with maki and her friends plenty of times; if she gets along with them, so can you!

“hey again!” you wave, walking to meet the duo halfway. the shorter blonde boy is first to acknowledge you, nodding his head as his pace comes to a halt- a greeting, you suppose. maki lazily holds up a hand as if to say hello. “nice to see you again, just on our turf this time huh?” she chuckles on the last word, coaxing you to smile back- intrigued at her way of starting a conversation. “yeah, seems like the tables have turned. it’s much smaller than i expected, though.” you turn to face the boy standing next to her, deciding it would be rude to not introduce yourself. “nice to meet you as well, y/n l/n.” he nods again, “toge inumaki.” his voice is much quieter than you expected, maybe he’s the shy type? or maybe he’s just not interested in talking to you; who knows.

maki’s tour isn’t very…. detailed. “this is the dining hall, we eat here sometimes.” , “this is the common area that nobody sits in.” , etc etc. to most, this would come off as rude and uninterested. in reality, she actually made you laugh quite a few times. she slipped in jokes here and there, the majority of them being about the wide range of interesting professors she's come across. an honest tour is much better than an over-detailed, over-explanation of every single thing on campus that close to nobody cares about; she reminds you a lot of megumi the whole time. the boy wouldn’t say too much, just some playful banter back and forth with the two of you about certain classes, random places on campus, and the like. it was nice, you thought- not as awkward or as forced as you felt like it would be. maki seemed to be enjoying herself as well, noticing that you laughed whenever she poked at the school for its quirks.

after about an hour of walking around, the three of you seem to halt rather abruptly. you notice the two friends begin texting, so you lean against the building and begin to lazily scroll while they do their own thing.

finally, she looks up, clearly contemplating something. “would you want to come get sushi with us? our other friend, yuuta is on the way too. he’s studying the same thing as you.”

you pause. being invited out with them was the last thing you had expected- when her mouth opened, you were anticipating her to offer walking you back home. the confusion definitely shows on your face, and the boy (who you now know as toge) laughs at your reaction. “you can say no if you don’t want to,” making a mental note to punch yourself for being so awkward later on, you finally respond, starting to laugh along. “im sorry, i don’t know why i reacted like that- i’m honestly starving, that would be great!”

you've gained 3 new followers!

￬ makizen, fortnitegod, y.okkotsu.

fun facts -> yuuta was contemplating skipping his lecture for that sushi all. day. it'd been a while since the three of them went out, and it could be a while before they get to do it again, since work begins to pile up around this time in the year. when he heard about y/n being there, he almost backed out. yuuta hyperfocuses on first-impressions, and showing up sleep deprived after a 2 hour lecture was NOT his idea of a good one.

previous , masterlist, next [03. life: ended]

taglist is open! @just-a-girlblogger @moryymor @swissy23 @hvnyacoded @sereniteav @k4romis @jayathelostdragon @h3rmess @olivandeee @lysaray @ari3000dontcare @raechu11

⤷ © kenmakodz

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coeurify · 1 year

Note

basking in the afterglow of a soft n slow sexy time with ellie would be heaven on earth i swear. both of you still sticky with the sheen of sweat, but a dopey smile spread across her lips as she plays with your hair as you lie on her chest, peppering kisses on the skin there. she never knew life could feel like this after all that she’s went thru, but being there with you shows her what true contentment is like </33

:((((( im so soft

Your head would be pressed into her neck, short little breaths still seeking for steadiness from your lungs, limbs still heavy feeling.

Neither of you minded the sticky feeling that coated your bodies too much. How could you when you instead could focus on the skin of Ellie’s neck, on the flesh that dawned the same sheen of a slight sweat as yours?

Every touch against each other was softer than the last, the lips you pressed to the crook of her neck, comforting little pecks that just acted as another way to find connection. The hand that threads through your hair, scratching your scalp in a way that made you shiver. Everything was so gentle, slow touches that coaxed you into relaxation.

You were sure this is what people meant when they spoke of heaven, of an oasis on earth. This was that for you, proven as much when you turned to look up at Ellie, watching a soft smile form on her lips.

“What’s got you smiling?”

“Just thinkin’ about how lucky I am.”

You knew Ellie meant it, even if you couldn’t answer, shoving your face back into the home it found in her neck, mumbling something she couldn’t make out other than, “loser.”

To Ellie, you were like her own personal angel. Something sent by whatever it was above to bask her in a sense of light she thought she would never find again. You were more than she could have ever thought she deserved, and sometimes she thought if she pressed you with her fingers you may disappear.

But now, with your bodies pressed against each other, breathing in tandem.. it was all very real to Ellie.

#rins reqs ❀.#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff

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the-s1lly-corner · 7 months

Note

Proxies with a fem reader going to a pumpkin patch so she can pick out her pumpkin? :>

Proxies and Fem!Reader going to a pumpkin patch!

obligatory toby is platonic but tbh i dont think romance ties too much into these specific hcs also i havent been to a pumpkin patch in years so im really scraping my brain trying to remeber what people do asides pick pumpkins...and google... a lot of google... i admit i had to fight myself not to make this a group thing where it's all together but im 80% sure you wanted these separate no unique gifs for each character, too eepy (its 6am rn and i couldnt sleep for the life of me SOBS)

Masky:

I feel like out of the three he's probably going to give the most resistance, he just doesn't like being around where loads of people may be; too much noise you know? But with enough coaxing and reassurance I do believe you can convince him to tag along

Most straight forward about it, wants it to be in and out, so he kinda beelines and tries to find a pair of pumpkins that'll do

"Babe... those ones are too small to carve..." "They're. Average."

Sorry I had to make that joke

Anyways

Out of all the activities there you might get him to sit down for a hayride if it's not too too packed!

Overall it's an okay experience, but really this guy would prefer the pumpkin carving at home after the fact; out on a porch sitting next to one another, alone in comfortable silence! He saves the seeds to make into snacks later

Hoodie:

A little more willing to go out! I feel like he's the easiest in terms of talking into stuff! As long as it's not anything dangerous he's more than willing to spend time with you.... all the better to keep his eye on you.. both in a cute aww he wants to protect you way and a creepy way but hey that's creepypasta for you

If they're offering shitty quickly constructed rides count him in, he's going to be the one dragging you!

While I'm not sure what rides would be there I'm sure there'd be but you're gonna be there for way longer than originally planned

Saving this for another day but Ferris Wheel trope where it gets stuck, one of y'all totally shouldn't send in a character for me to do that for wink wink nudge nudge

Probably the most emotive you see Hoodie, ever, it's actually a little jarring at first but it's cute in it's own way that he's getting all hyped up over some rides

overall? y'all forget to actually. pick pumpkins so you guys have to almost immediately return to go browse at the pumpkins that remain. Does the thing where you knock on produce to make sure it sounds right. Does he know what he's going or what he's looking for? No clue but hey there's that mental image, Hoodie kneeling down on the ground, head pressed against a pumpkin and tapping it

Ticci Toby:

Pretends to not wanna go but really he's totally fucking stoked that you wanna go somewhere with him, him? like him him? Toby? Well if you insist-

That bit sounded mean but I believe Toby feels.... I don't know how to put it but like I think it's because he used to be bullied and left out that he still gets a little surprised when you willingly invite him to hang out; not that he's complaining though

Haunted corn maze. This fucker beelines for the corn maze. You have lost your silly friend with an affinity for collecting empty snail shells (hc)

Good luck trying to find him, if it's one of those mazes with scare actors he's not going to flinch or scream so there goes your audio cue

Eventually you do find him though! So it's not totally disastrous! It just takes you upwards of fifteen minutes because you yourself got lost before looping back to the entrance, only to find this little shit sitting right by the entrance

Seriously how the fuck did he do that?

No clue

You know how sometimes pumpkins are bumpy or a lil... off looking? Leave it to this fucker to make several jokes about how they look, primarily ragging on the bumpier ones

"Hey look, it looks like you" "shut the fuck up"/j

Generally a very good time as long as you ignore the small heart attack you got when Toby disappeared! Good luck cleaning the mess after carving up your pumpkins

He probably tries to see what the guts taste like

idk what raw pumpkin guts taste like

not sure if its any good because ive only tried pre canned pumpkin puree and used it for baking so idk if it tastes good straight from the source

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #masky headcanons #masky x reader #hoodie imagines #hoodie x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you

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sapphos-ode · 10 months

Text

Nth Reason

Larissa Weems

Not sure where this came from but enjoy

The first time she had asked ‘who do you want me to shift into?’ with a broken voice, so fragile and small. Made you want to destroy the world. Burn everything to ashes. But you wouldn’t for she loved the moon, she loved Nevermore, she loved the birdsong in the morning. She loved her students. She loved you. She hated seeing others in pain. So you stayed your hand, bit your tongue and allowed the world to be.

Life becomes too much sometimes. And days where it comes to a head she can be found sitting in the dark in her office. In front of the hearth that had long died down - not even the embers remained. Too cold to move. Sometimes she’d have fallen asleep, tears still collecting in the corner of her eyes. Others she’d sit still - as if she was a statue. Blue eyes staring into the distance. On the worst nights there would be a bottle of wine empty.

And every time you’d hold her. Coax her from her seat and help her into bed. Never letting her go.

Larissa’s entire body went lax as she lay in your arms, she had many more tears to shed but had no energy left. Entirely spent. Her body begged her to sleep but her mind wouldn’t allow such a mercy.

“I’m a mess,” her voice was rough, and you had to strain to hear her, “I’m sorry,”

“Don’t dare apologise,”

“It’s tiring,”

“I know darling,”

“For you I mean, it’s tiring, I’m tiring,”

“You are not,”

“Im scared it’ll become too much for you,”

“Never,”

She opens her mouth to speak. You cut her off, gently.

“I will be by your side, forever. You could want to torture everyone in the world including myself. And I would still stand by your side.

“You are the reason why I breath, the reason why I love, the reason why I cry, why I laugh, why I mourn, why I celebrate. You are the reason why I live,”

Larissa pulls back a little to look into your eyes, her own are glassy and red.

“There’s nothing I would not do for you, you can be in the wrong and I would be there for you,” you stroke her hair, letting blonde tresses slip between your fingers.

“I’m sorry you always need to tell me these things,”

“I will do whatever you need,”

“I’ll get better,”

“I know, but I love you for how you are now just as I love you for the woman you were in the past, and I will love whoever you become in the future,”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,”

“I do,”

She’s silent but you can feel her question.

“you exist, Larissa” you kiss her head, “and that is more than enough, you are more than enough just as you are,”

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader

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somber-sapphic · 1 year

Note

Oooh Im loving the new prompts!! :)) Anychance of seeing 22A with the ‘Not A Word’ sickie type please? :))

Maybe seeing Nat not being allowed to attend a mission and being pretty annoyed about it? :))

100% Not Sick

Natasha is 100% not sick. She couldn't get sick. That was just not a thing that happened. Until it did.

Hope you like it @goldenempyrean!

Word Count: 1318

-----

“Romanoff, go back to your room, I don’t have time to argue with you right now.” Steve snapped, frowning at the red-nosed assassin. She was quite literally pouting, her typical tough glare replaced by a cute little scowl. You were half smiling, hiding your slight smirk behind your interlaced fingers.

“Who the hell do you think I am Rogers? You don’t dictate my damn life, I can handle one fucking mission!” She yelled back, her voice barely above a whisper. You could tell that her throat must hurt by the way she talked and the slight tug on the edges of her lips as she swallowed.

Steve took a step towards her and she naturally did the same, both of them settling into what could be considered a fighting stance. Neither was willing to back down and you couldn’t actually guess who would win.

Natasha was sick, probably feverish and obviously miserable, but said misery was probably fueling her rage. Steve on the other hand was in tip top shape, well rested and physically unable to contract an illness.

You could see Tony’s eyes boring into you, he wanted you to intervene, but you really didn’t want to get into this. Plus, you were mildly interested. You were pretty sure that Steve would back down but that would only be because Natasha was sick and he didn’t want to beat up a sick woman. Which the redhead would ultimately see as a challenge and would probably end up doing something stupid. Like attack him stupid.

“Agent Romanoff, stand down. Go back to your room or I will have you escorted.” You wrinkled your nose at the Captain's words, leaning back in your chair to watch the chaos unfold. After nearly two years of dating the woman you knew better than to step in when she was like this, it would only embarrass her and then she’d fight you on not being sick and it would just end up with Steve and Nat back at each other’s throats.

“What did you just say to me? You’ll have me escorted? How exactly do you expect that? Who do you honestly think can take me?” She ended her seething rant with a harsh sneeze against her elbow. It sounded gross and you were like 80% sure that it was incredibly contagious. If Cap could get sick, he would have.

“Look Rogers, you worry about you, I’ll worry about me. Right now, I’m worried about catching a villain.” Their faces were inches apart now, Natasha’s glistening red nose practically against Steve’s chin. The height difference was quite amusing. He rolled his eyes and stepped back, falling back into a more relaxed position.

“That’s what I thought. Y/l/n, come on. We’re going.” She ordered, snapping her fingers at you. If she were in any sort of reasonable mental state you would’ve called her on it, but she was in boss mode. She also hadn’t slept in probably three nights, she was definitely running a fever and her stiff movements indicated that all of limbs hurt.

You stood, plastering a gentle smile on your face. She stepped away, looking almost like a cornered cat.

“C’mon love, let's go. I’ll make some tea.” You coaxed, slipping your hand into hers. She sneered at you, eyes widening in panic. You knew that she was new to this, that she hated being sick and she hated showing weakness even more. Now you were in front of the whole team, being watched. Of course, no one was really watching the two of you, but she was still humiliated.

“Y/n,” She started, her tone warning. You squeezed her hand gently and began to tug her away from the conference room.

“Just let me.” You dragged her out of the room, ignoring the sounds of protest and her tugging away from you. Normally you’d let her just do her thing, especially when it came to a mission, but there was just no way that you could let this slide. There was a fair chance that Natasha would get herself killed if she went on that mission.

“Y/n, are you kidding me? One, I’m not sick. Two, I can handle myself!” She grumbled, sounding slightly defeated. You looked back and shrugged, giving her a little smile.

“Come on, it’ll be nice! Plus, I’m exhausted. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Maybe we could just watch a few movies in bed?” You suggested, pulling her gently into your room. She huffed as she sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms over her chest in a show of anger.

You sat beside her and squeezed her shoulders, leaning over to kiss her neck. She grumbled her unhappiness again and she frowned at the floor, seemingly ready to stab you. There were countless ways that she could kill you just sitting there, but she never would. She loved you too much for that.

“Please Natty? Just for a little while.” You pleaded, beginning to undo her tight braid. She sniffled quietly and sagged against you, her facade faltering just slightly. You gently removed a few bobby pins and laid a hand on her forehead, humming your disapproval.

“I’m not-”

“I know honey. Lets get changed into something more comfortable, yeah?” She nodded and put her head on your shoulder, seeming to accept that she wasn’t feeling well. It was like as long as you didn’t say anything she was willing to do what she needed to get better. But there was probably no way that you could get her to take any medicine, that would be a later issue.

It took a bit of coaxing but you managed to get Natasha into a soft, cotton t-shirt and flannel pants. You weren’t exactly sure why she was so insistent on wearing her uniform, but for some reason she was very angry with your attempts to help her. Which of course, made sense. You had fallen for the most stubborn woman you could find.

When you were finally both changed and laying down, Natasha had her head against your chest, finally giving in. Her anger had changed to utter misery though you still wouldn’t be saying anything about her illness. You knew better than that.

“What do you want to watch, love?” You asked, running your fingers through her curly hair. She shrugged and mumbled a response into your shirt, cuddling a little bit closer. You looked down at her, wondering if you’d even need to turn the TV on to get her to fall asleep.

“How about Parks and Rec?” It was one of her secret comfort shows that only you and Clint knew about. She was supposed to like action movies and sometimes she was a fan of hockey, but she loved a good comedy. She was especially a fan of Ron Swanson. She enjoyed his blunt attitude.

“M’kay.” She hummed, letting out a deep sigh. You turned on a random episode, the room flickering in soft blue light, but you weren’t interested in the show. All you could focus on was the sleepy redhead laying on your chest, making soft unintelligible sounds.

“M’not sick.” She said after five minutes, jolting you back into reality. You chuckled quietly and kissed her hairline, unhappy with the fever that you felt radiating from her skin. The next time she woke up you’d get her some medicine.

“Of course not. But even 100% not sick people need to sleep, right?”

You felt her smile against your skin and you smiled back, entranced by her beauty. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you felt your eyes closing, but you knew that Natasha had fallen asleep long before you did. It wasn’t like you loved your girlfriend being sick, but it was nice to hold her. It was nice to play caretaker instead of the other way around.

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oceanofsinners · 5 months

Text

“I'll find you every time, my dear. No matter what it takes.”

Yan!Multiverse traveler x gn!reader who dies every time.

[mdni or do, i don't care. asks are appreciated and very much needed im horrible at making prompts argh]

Every time. Every time. It's not fair. Why must the Gods curse him so?

You were his in every Universe, every life time. Yet you died so young. So pathetically every time. Once it was a disease, the next was suicide, and the last one was murder.

Of course, everyone who HARMS and FAILS YOU dies in every Universe. They don't deserve to survive. They don't deserve to live.

Just once, just once he wants to hold your hand as the two of you grow old. Or bring you along on his travels of the Multiverse.

Arche sighed as he walked across the Universe, planets and different Universe’s surrounding his body.

Arche wasn't a God but neither was he Mortal. He lost the ability to die to Death a long, long time ago. So now he walks the Multiverse’s to spite the Gods who kill his lover every time.

The Gods do this as a punishment for cheating Death, perhaps. But they dare not actually try and get close to Arche. If they do, they will live a Fate worse then Death herself.

When he's not pretending to be human, his skin is covered in blues, purples, and pinks like the galaxy itself, his eyes, one black one white. Black always forced to watch your Death, the white watching every new Life.

Arche walks to the next Universe, wincing at how horrible it seems. Another war Universe? Alright. He always hates these ones. You almost always die in his arms.

Arche steels himself, all six arms wrapping around the Universe as he leaves his body, his subconscious melding with the world.

Arche’s eyes flutter open, taking the form of a child, barely 7 years of age. His “parents” tell him to go to his hiding spot, and he does.

Arche hides as he hears gun shots, screams, begging. He fiddles with the ends of his sleeves, curling into himself in the small hide of his.

People run into the house, searching for resources and other survivors.

A hologram laptop pops up in front of Arche, telling him everything he'd need to know about the Universe he's currently in.

This Universe was created by Death, to get more souls...Everyone will die in twenty-six years due to a bomb...Alright, so he's got twenty-six years to find YOU, to get into a relationship with you, and hopefully confess to you what he is.

And then help you become one too.

Arche waits, freezing as someone opens the door. “Hey! I found....a kid?” The person pauses, and another adult walks over, frowning as they realize what they just did.

“Fuck. We just orphaned a child.” The adult with brown hair curses, while the blonde smacks them away with a roll of their eyes.

“Hey, little one. I'm Georgia, she/her, what's your name?” The woman asks, kneeling down as she smiles gently. Arche crawls further back, whimpering.

“...Ar-Arche. He/him. Wh-Why’d you kill them...?” Georgia pauses, and sighs. She glances away, biting her lip.

She's pretty, he's got to admit. Blonde hair that reaches her navel, a mole under her eye, green eyes that seem far too kind for a war. She's going to die young.

The other adult interrupts. “That's just how life is right now, kid. You kill or be killed—” Georgia slaps him, and the two bicker for a few moments before Georgia sighs.

“That’s Wyatt, my husband. He's...a bit blunt, isn't he?” Georgia snorts. Arche slowly crawls out after a ton of coaxing, and can finally fully look at Wyatt.

He's got brown, curly hair that's rather long, in a ponytail. He's got brown eyes and tan skin, and a permanent glare on his face. He's got a huge scar over his nose.

But, he notices something. No, someone. YOU. You're just a kid, maybe a year older or two, hiding behind Wyatt, glancing at him quietly.

Wyatt glances between Arche and you, before Georgia pulls him away, as they go and talk in a corner, whisper yelling at each other

You're curious but cautious, glancing at him, or well, glaring. You look so pretty, even as a kid.

The two sit in silence while the adults yell at each other, as it gets more intense. Arche frowns, and goes to cover his ears.

But then, you pull him to your chest, covering his ears. He freezes, and you look away from the scene and him.

“I’m sorry about them. They're stressed.” You murmur, and hours pass before the yelling stops.

The two walk over, and Georgia smiles at the sight of the two of them huddled together, asleep. Wyatt snorts, picking up Arche, and Georgia picks up you.

The two walk out, going to their hide out. Arche’s not asleep. He rarely is.

Years pass and memories are made. Days where the good and bad happen.

Georgia dies first. Arche can remember your screams, and Wyatt and him having to pull you away.

Wyatt died a few months later, leaving fourteen, almost fifteen, year old Arche and sixteen year old you alone. You quickly became a good caretaker for him, making sure he never got harmed.

The day of your eighteenth birthday he confessed, and although at first nervous, you agreed. The years passed and days got better, brighter because he was around.

Arche was stupid. He thought he had more time. Maybe this was the one. He ignored every warning, despite it having been twenty-six years.

Foolish. A fool in Love is what Arche is. He defies Gods for you every day, and yet you can't even stay alive for him.

It's the day of his 33rd birthday. He doesn't think anything of it. Nothings wrong, you're smiling and happy. Thats all he cares about.

Then the fires start, he tries to get you out, go somewhere else. By the time the bomb drops, he realizes he's messed up once more.

You're dying. In his arms once more. Arche curses every God he can think of, sobbing into your chest as your burned fingers glide through his hair.

“'m sorry, 'm sorry- It's all my fault. I should've realized.” Arche sobs into your chest, the soft smile he so desperately wishes wasn't on your dying face directed at him.

He feels the flames burn his human vessel as he protects your body with his own, and he screams from the pain.

You're tears are like acid against his skin, he loves seeing you smile. But not like this. Then you mutter something against his skin that makes him freeze.

“Do...Do you think we're together in every life, my moth?” The words are quiet, barely a whisper amongst the flames. And he can't help but nod.

You ask this every time you die. Every time he can't help but remember every death before this. And think of every one after it, too.

“Of course we are, firefly. Till Death do us part like she always shall, and we find each other in the next life. I'll always be drawn to your light, like a moth to a flame.” Arche can feel you smile against his skin, as the flames finally take both of your lives.

When he comes to, arms unwrapped around the Universe, he makes a promise.

“I'll find a life we both shall live peacefully, Firefly. No matter what it takes. No matter who's blood I shall spill.” Arche promises, floating away to the next Universe as another death is stored in his memory.

—

“And that's the story of Arche and his Firefly.” The historian, named after the “story”of Arche finishes, smiling while holding his lovers hand at the children surrounding the two.

One of them raised their hand, and he nods as a response. “Are you named after the story, Mr. Arche?” The child asks with wonder in their eyes.

Arche chuckles, nodding along. “I am. Me and my very own Firefly will always be together. No matter what the Gods have to say, or Universe.” Arche brings a finger to their lip, winking at the child.

The children laugh, and move on to the next exhibit. You raise a brow, glancing over at Arche. “Really? You shouldn't be saying that, what if someone finds out, my moth?” You cross your arms over your chest, smiling gently at the exhibit of your history together.

“Firefly, they're children. I could show my true form and they'd think it was a Dream when they grow up.” Arche waves a hand in dismissal, smirking at you. You roll your eyes, and the two of you turn to your true forms as you leave.

“Alright, ready for the next one, Firefly? Where should we go, hmm?” Arche pulls you into the painting, and you find yourselves in the galaxy.

“Oh, I do love the one where you're the prince and I'm the jester, moth.” You smile, and he nods.

Now that you're his, no world or realm, God or man can take the two of you apart. ♥︎

#┆︴YOUR HOST ٭ NICO #oc #oc x reader #x reader #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #time travel #Multiverse #Pollylonverse

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emypony · 8 months

Note

so uh- pls elaborate on ce!hua x sim!hua im here for the agenda

Anon I hope ur still here and sorry i took this long but i just HAD to make something for them. (and also....barking and meowing, drawing Fu Hua oh my god..)

This got heckin lengthy so I will be putting my thoughts down below in a read more <3

I ended up with brainrot 🛐🙏 alas...let me elaborate!! This if ofc in the context if ER was repaired and with new tech they were able to give the sims each their own body to continue living on as a separate entity <3

I will differentiate them by Hua and Fu Hua since it's probably the easiest. And speaking of them

Fu Hua herself has gone through many battles over the years and has met a myriad of people, shaping her into the person that she's become. Grief, Joy, Despair and Relief over the years have eroded her into her most peaceful version yet, more calm and collected and sure of herself. Maaaybe a little cheekier than usual (Senti's attitude has been rubbing off on her, unfortunately) but it's never in a mean way.

All the while Hua herself while having gone through the same amount of years as her, has not got the chance to be so out and about, but got her fair share of interaction from the visitors and successors that came to the realm. Her frequent memory wipes did slow down her progress however, so she's still closer to the original 'Fu Hua' that she was created from so many years back.

Hua was always unsure of herself and what her future would hold, wondering if her real life self would be good enough (would she, as a sim?) but she's never felt like it herself. After all, she's just a copy and that's what she's supposed to be, right?

And yet now that she gets to SEE what the real Fu Hua became, with the inherent knowledge that she's still there and has survived on despite all her hardships (which she would eventually hear about, as Fu Hua vehemently denied syncing their memories, for more reasons than one), it made her be overwhelmed with a multitude of new feelings - relief, admiration, sadness for everything she's endured, hope? for the future, and a new one that she can't quite elaborate on (these new bodies sure feel vastly different from being a bunch of data in a non physical realm, and that includes feelings too)

Unlike herself, Fu Hua now displays great amounts of patience, coupled with the suffocating feelings of kindness and softness (? once again an inexplicable feeling - how can someone act 'soft'! that's a physical feeling and yet it felt like the best word to use)

Of course all their time eventually spent together leads for more feelings of both heartache and inexplicable self consciousness- after all, Hua is just a sim, created in Fu Hua's image (not that the thought ever bothered her, she'd accepted it as a reality as all the others). Now that she's got her own body however, she can't help but feel inadequate being there. Would she be a fighter proficient enough? Good enough to carry the burden of the same name and face? Would she be able to live up to her legacy, her name and her greatness? Could she ever achieve what she did or would she just forever be branded as a 'copy' and nothing else. Would it have been better off if she'd remained deleted by the Herrscher of Corruption? The others are after all...not there anymore, so there would be no confusion to be made. They could carry on their real life counterpart's legacies without issue- but she felt like she was just not meant to be there. Fu Hua was still alive, so why the need for her, too?

It all culminates one day after isolating herself for weeks and becoming more and more of a hermit. Not even Pardofelis could coax her to open up, so who better to work through Hua related issues than Fu Hua herself? It doesn't take long until Hua confesses her feelings in regards to the matter of her existence, and Fu Hua can't help but smile gently, thinking about the amusing parallels between this Hua and Senti.

Hua's skin is burning as Fu Hua takes her hand into hers, and addresses her with the same tenderness as raindrops falling after a hot day. She feels tears prick her eyes as Hua's talking, about how despite being made after her it was so so long ago that it isn't bad that she's different. Fu Hua wouldn't want her to take after her anyway, it's better off if she would just be her own person. There is no need to repeat Fu Hua's mistakes, just to become like her. She's not perfect, after all.

Hua may be derived from the same starting point as Fu Hua over 50 000 years ago, but so much time has passed, and the two of them ended up being shaped by people and circumstance differently, and now she has sort of become her own person. It would be unfair to her own self and legacy to attempt to be like Fu Hua. There's no more Honkai, they have achieved their goal and she'd fought just as valiantly as the others. And that is enough.

here's where my general thoughts stop, but I do have other more funny ones in regards to Senti (and by extension Pardo, because now with a soulium body I'd just put them together like cheese and crackers).

Senti's views on Sim!Hua are also funny because:

Fu Hua: old timer. antique. do NOT tell me we're alike i'm going to start foaming at the mouth. smh my head she cant get it together

Sim!Hua: absolute baby lmaooo look at her. okay she is kind of cute and pathetic. yeah ill help her shes funny (by being a wet sopping scrungly)

I just think they would be interesting friends, and maybe a bit of an easy target for teasing (especially once she finds out that she kinda has a crush on Fu Hua). Obviously enough, getting dating advice from a Herrscher who has never dated is going to end in disaster.

Senti and Felis get together (i swear this is for storytelling purposes this time), all is well and they enjoy each other. Seeing them be happy and such, Hua finally allows herself to think of the possibility of at least confessing. "Oh okay so…a sim(?) and a. real . ? person? (debatable) Herrscher? can be together so maybe i can at least confess… i want to get over this" Hua wouldn't delude herself into thinking that there could be any outcome of her feelings, after all Senti and Pardo's situation was somewhat different than her own.

As much as she hates it, Senti is unfortunately the only one who knows Fu Hua enough so...by extension of asking Felis she has to ask her too and its awfully embarrassing because of how much teasing she expects.

Senti's the first one to react and she goes "LMAO no WAY. Fu Hua?!?"

Felis hits her shoulder. "Senti, be nice !!! this is serious!!"

Senti can't help but almost double over in laughter, but recovers pretty quickly. "Out of everyone you could've chosen smh…sure fine, it''s whatever I'll help you."

Hua was a bit. skeptical. "You're…not doing this just to gloat and laugh at me if it doesn't work, right?"

Senti had half the mind to think better on it. "Eh…I would say maybe, but quite frankly I'll do ANYTHING if it means Hua will shut the fuck up and stop asking me how Felis and I are going. If you confessing to her will get her off my case I'm literally willing to throw petals from above for added effect"

Suddenly Hua doesn't feel that great about asking Senti for help. But what's done is done, so she might as well give her best. Senti goes "Don't worry I'll ease her about the thought" and goes to Fu Hua and asks "Hey so how much do you love yourself?" like with no fucking context. Funnily enough, Fu Hua thinks Senti is trying to talk to her about not sacrificing herself if things get dire, so she completely cuts her off before she elaborates any further and assures her that she will never put her duty before herself or her friends ever again, all of them can rest assured!

Needless to say Senti came back with nothing to show for it except words completely unrelated to what they needed. Hua herself can't help but go "wow, she really is different from me, she's matured so much and learned to prioritize herself" and can't help but feel like she likes her even more, to Senti's absolute disgust ("Good God, you're down bad"). Mission failed.

Senti turns to Felis, going "yeah you know what. they're perfect for each other."

Felis smiles and clasps her hands. "Aww that's so cute, do you mean they seem to be on the same page about feelings?"

"No i mean they're both incomprehensibly daft and delusional but yours works too, probably."

Enough about Hua, we should probably touch on Fu Hua's feelings for comparison. She feels a strange sense of wanting to protect Hua- maybe chalks it up to it reminding her of her past, lost and full of uncertainty about each following day, of losing more people and more sacrifices being made. But those are no longer pressing issues now, so why does she still feel like that, when Hua is clearly capable of defending herself if something comes to be? It's confusing, but she doesn't dwell on it for too much.

...well, until it does end up being on her mind a bit too much, so she can only go to the one person that would understand AND knows enough about the person in question - Felis! ....and by extension (and to her dismay) Senti as well. The two share a 'there's no way this is happening AGAIN' look with each other as Fu Hua is trying to explain her issue.

She confides in them briefly. "I've been having these...weird feelings towards er, Hua. I'm not sure but I find myself wanting to spend more time with her and I feel like I want to protect her. But there's no danger anymore and clearly she can defend herself just as well as anyone else...so why am I...?" she seems lost.

Senti makes a joke which Felis almost chokes to. "Maybe you like her?"

Fu Hua blushes and almost gives herself away. "W-What? N-no, I could never, I...s-she's me- well, not- not really anymore no but she was created from me at one point...that... that would be wrong wouldn't it?" Well. it wasn't an outright no, technically...

Senti continues. "Okay HYPOTHETICALLY...if she liked you back, would you confess?"

For once Fu Hua doesn't seem so shocked about it anymore, she seems almost...melancholic, as if she's thinking about something that's too far out of her reach. "Oh please...she's still got some of my traits and mannerisms...she would know better than to like the person she was made after..." she chuckles longingly. "She's probably got a stronger sense of justice and morals than I have right now, I certainly have mellowed out over the years." Senti sighs, and groans, and almost hits something.

"Oh my GODDD I am leaving. I cannot deal with this you're TOO DUMB!!" and just disappears away in a flash of black feathers. Fu Hua is confused and taken aback and Felis can do nothing but shrug her shoulders because she too wishes she could straight up disappear right now. These two were so different yet so alike and it was so frustrating how stupid they were about it.

---

I've yet to think about how they confess - I'll admit my thoughts stopped there as I got one tracked on doing art for them, but if I happen to figure something out, I might do another post. Idk if I would be able to do a little one-shot though...........unless?

Anyway if u've made it this far godspeed thank you for letting me talk about them 🙏 they're on my mind fr haha.

#honkai impact #fu hua #hi3rd #hi3 #honkai impact 3rd #anon #ask #this turned into a huge thing but i think i like it lol #AND i got a really nice fu hua out of it too!!#yippee thank you for asking godspeed #and this better not be someone from my server going on anon to ask bc godspeed im gonna get embarrassed lmao

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tickle-bugs · 1 year

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Have you considered Bruce being super awkward and stiff when he's hanging out with Clark and Diana, pre relationship or early relationship or whatever, and Jason and Dick seeing that and immediately being like "nope. We're not having that. Dude needs to loosen up." And Bruce never sees it coming when they flank him and start going to town on his sides. And of course Clark and Diana are all "oh?? So he is human?? Interesting." And Bruce threatens to ground two grown men because he just knows his life is about to change. Clark and Diana are goblins. He's done.

continued: OKAY BUT Bruce in bed in between Diana and Clark and they're all that perfect state of sleepy loopy comfortable and warm. And Clark is rubbing these soothing circles over Bruce's stomach and chest and Bruce is just melting into the bed and Clark is all "who's your favorite partner" and Bruce doesn't hesitate to say Diana, just to mess with Clark. But of course it backfires on him because "Bruce, look at his face. How is he not your favorite?"

You KNOW how I feel about them FUCK anyways here's these two prompts smushed together because...Im love them.

This fic is a sequel to Smitten! You don't have to read it but it will enrich your experience :)

Baby, I Surrender

Bruce deals with bombshells professionally, both in and out of the cowl, but absolutely nothing could prepare him for the world of dating two superhumans at once.

He’d never been one for monogamy, and he was happy to let the tabloids chalk it up to whatever psychological buzzword they were abusing that month. It didn’t matter. The number of partners has never been his problem…it’s the dating part. He’s not soft. Kind words are never his instinct, touch has to be coaxed out of him--most people tire of trying to train affection into him by the first month or so.

Clark, for some reason, seems to like his awkwardness. When Bruce wants to backpedal out of emotional proximity, Clark’s there to box him in and sit in the vulnerability with him. He’s a tease in more ways than one, but mostly he’s sweet. Like, send Bruce a box of chocolates at work ‘just because’ sweet. Bruce is starting to settle into the reciprocation part--he sent a bouquet over to Clark’s earlier in the week and it only made him nauseous once.

Diana had surprised them both. She and Bruce had been circling each other for a while, flirting for the fun of it at events. There’s always been something between them, he thinks, a soft and sacred thing at the center of an iron-clad friendship. She’s saved his life without breaking a sweat, but she’s also gone with him on those long, silent walks he needs to recall who he is. So when a friend--a woman like that drags your boyfriend over and asks the both of you to dinner…well, Bruce would’ve been a fool to say no.

The three of them are still easing into the togetherness of this affair, still picking around the fragile parts with jittery trepidation. Bruce wanted desperately to avoid public attention, but he and Clark frequently cross paths for day job purposes as it is. Also, it would be…unbecoming of him to avoid Diana as one of the Smithsonian’s most generous donors. So, when the Smithsonian announced its ribbon-cutting gala for its new exhibition, Bruce decided that he was going to be brave and go with his partners. As a unit.

Bruce descends the grand staircase to find Diana and Clark looking radiant as all hell. Diana slow-dances with Clark in a floor-length maroon gown that flatters both her strong shoulders and curves. Clark’s jacket is the same color as her dress and fitted perfectly to his body. Diana dips him and he laughs, holding onto her as she lifts him back up.

There’s no music. Bruce’s heart couldn’t be more full.

“You’re both…matching.” He pauses. They don’t stop swaying, but they both smile at him.

“I think someone--” Diana gives Clark a playful look-- “May have overheard me trying to choose what to wear. He picked me up like this.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Clark clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, but his cheeks dust a faint pink.

“You look…You both look…” Bruce runs a hand over his mouth to hide his fleeting smile. “I just threw this on, but now I’m sensing that I should change.”

“You’ve trained him well, Clark. That was almost a full compliment.” Diana leans back into Clark’s shoulder, but her eyes never leave Bruce’s.

“Can’t take credit for that.” Clark laughs, winding a lazy arm around her waist. She laces their fingers together. The overwhelming urge to kiss them both senseless is a welcome surprise. Bruce takes it in stride.

Bruce does not run upstairs, as that would be undignified and embarrassing, but he does hurry. He changes into a sleek black tuxedo set and loses the tie--there’s no time to get Alfred to tie one now. He rustles through his pocket square collection until he finds a gorgeous maroon silk to fold into his breast pocket.

He bursts out of his room and nearly slams right into Jason and Dick.

“Woah!” They manage to swerve out of the way at the last minute. Bruce blanches. Father and sons contend with each other for a moment while Bruce desperately tries to sink into the Earth.

“You haven’t left yet?” Jason brightens with the beginning of a smirk.

“You’re one to talk. The two of you were supposed to be on patrol an hour ago.” Bruce fiddles with his cufflinks. Dick tsks at him and goes to fasten them for him, but apparently the cufflinks aren’t up to his standard. He huffs, disappears into Bruce’s room, and reappears with a different set.

“You were in a different suit an hour ago.” Jason’s eyebrows raise. Bruce can hear the little hamster wheel that is his brain rattling as he regrettably connects the dots. Dick looks up from adjusting Bruce’s sleeves. He and Jason have an unintelligible conversation with their eyes alone.

Bruce regrets adopting such intelligent orphans.

“Oh my god. Bruce, did you change to match Clark?” Dick gasps. Jason snickers into his fist.

“No.” Bruce clenches his jaw. “Yes.”

“You look fine.” Jason claps his shoulder.

“You look good.” Dick fiddles with Bruce’s collar. Bruce swats his hands away.

“Thank you. Patrol. Now.” Bruce gestures back the way they came.

“Be safe,” Bruce calls after them. He waits until he hears them walk away and then waits a little longer before he dares to leave. He does hurry down the steps this time, but only because the chance of encountering more of his kids is spiking by the second. Also, because they’re late.

“Sorry about that. Let’s get go--mmph.” Bruce gets swallowed into a kiss with Clark, deep and sweet. Bruce grips Clark’s biceps to remember which way is up.

“This whole situation is going to be a problem for me.” Clark gestures at Bruce, breathless. Bruce tilts his head and lets his eyes roam Clark’s exquisite form.

“I’d hate to cause any problems for you, Mr. Kent.” Bruce walks his fingers up Clark’s chest and tugs at his tie.

“I’m sure you would.” Clark clears his throat. Diana wraps her arms around Bruce from behind.

“You’ll save a little bit of this for us, won’t you?” She hums, trailing her fingers down the column of Bruce’s throat and down to the exposed part of his chest. He shivers.

“The night is still young. We’ll see what happens.” He kisses her over his shoulder, turning to lean into it fully. He memorizes the way her lipstick looks so he can daydream about her leaving smudges of it on his skin.

Bruce perks up at a creaking floorboard, one that only creaks when one of his children has gotten un-sneaky in their sneaking. He narrows his eyes at the balcony. Jason’s tuft of white hair is just barely visible behind a pillar.

Bruce heaves a deep sigh.

“I know you’re up there,” Bruce calls. Dick and Jason both stumble out from their hiding space and immediately adjust themselves. Their descent down the stairs is anything but normal, but Bruce is proud of them for trying, at least.

“You didn’t tell us you were dating Wonder Woman too,” Dick hisses, eyes wide. Diana waves at him. He meekly waves back.

“Nah, no way. This has to be a charity thing.” Jason whispers not-so-quietly.

“Not a charity thing, Jason, though I appreciate your unwavering faith.” Bruce huffs, but something sour does curl inside him at the jab. He should be used to it, but he isn’t. Jason must see something in his face because he shuffles his weight.

“Didn’t know it was serious. Sorry.”

“I don’t know what it is, but I like it. Ideally, they also like it. Don’t tell the others until I’m—we’re sure it’ll work.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair.

“Good luck keeping something like this secret in this house. Between Cass living in the walls and Steph’s crush on you-know-who—“ Jason tilts his head towards Diana— “you’re toast.”

“Also, I’m pretty sure they heard you,” Dick murmurs. Bruce hangs his head in defeat. He can hear his partners laughing softly at him, but he chooses to strategically ignore it.

“Clark, Diana. These are two of my children, Dick and Jason.” Bruce puts a hand on both of their shoulders and gives a firm squeeze.

“We’ve heard plenty of good things about you.” Diana beams. Jason gives her a firm handshake. Dick kisses her knuckles. Bruce can’t help but smile at how excited they are.

It bodes well for whatever this is, between the three of them.

“So have we.” Dick beams.

“Really?” Clark glances at Bruce with the softest smile. Bruce bashfully rolls his eyes.

“Well, no. We’ve been trying but he won’t tell us anything.” Dick nudges Bruce’s shoulder.

“It means he cares.” Jason mock-whispers.

“Alright, you’re done. Out. Go. Bye.” Bruce shoos them away with firm hands on their backs, but they resist.

“C’mon, wait, let’s get a picture!” Dick fishes out his phone and holds it up like a white flag. Jason leans up against the wall, keen to observe.

“The press will take plenty.” Bruce frowns.

“Yeah, but I think Alfred would love one of the three of you, don’t you think?” Dick blinks, all innocence. Bruce glares daggers at him.

“A picture sounds lovely.” Diana sweeps Clark and Bruce into either side of her. Clark and Bruce touch hands across the small of her back.

“Bruce, smile. It’s not a funeral.”

“I know how to smile, Jason.” Bruce rolls his eyes.

“Would you like to prove it?” Jason gestures at him. Bruce grimaces for the picture.

Of course, he’s had plenty of practice faking smiles for a camera. There’s something about this picture though, the implications of it, that scares the Brucie routine right out of him. Maybe because it matters.

“This is stupid,” Bruce grumbles.

“It’s sweet. It means they care,” Diana whispers teasingly, kissing his cheek.

“That’s so cute! Hold that--okay, nope, we lost the smile.” Dick sighs and puts his hands on his hips. Jason leans over to him and they murmur back and forth for a while. Dick’s eyebrows go up in that way they do when he has an idea.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Bruce mutters to Clark.

“I will not confirm, deny, or disclose it.” Clark grins mischievously. Something about the look in his eye is familiar, it sends Bruce’s stomach swooping in a strange way.

Dick bounds up to Clark and bounces on his toes. His eyes are glittering with awe.

“Mr. Kent--”

“Please, Clark is fine.”

“Clark.” Dick bites his lip on a smile. Bruce makes a note to commend him for not squealing. “Would you hold this for a moment?”

“Of course.” Clark takes the offered cellphone. Dick leans up and whispers something in his ear, hiding his mouth behind his hands. Clark is suddenly aglow, grinning as if Christmas has come early.

“What are you planning? What’s happening?” Bruce hisses, looking between the two of them. Clark shrugs dramatically.

“Nothing, nothing. We’ve kept you waiting long enough. We’re gonna take one more photo, and it is what it is. If it’s terrible, Alfred can always grab one off the internet.” Dick waves nonchalantly, striding up to the three of them. Bruce narrows his eyes.

Dick fiddles with various elements of Bruce’s outfit, frowning deeply. He can’t seem to get things to lay the way he likes, which alights a deep spark of anxiety in Bruce’s gut. He knows he looks fine, but Dick doesn’t seem to think so—

“Jason, come help me fix this.”

“My pleasure.” Oh, Jason is smiling. That’s--well, it’s lovely. Bruce doesn’t see it often anymore. But it’s also terrifying and an omen of chaos. Not lovely.

Jason and Dick both duck under Bruce’s arms in unison and start tickling him. Betrayed by his own children.

Bruce has fought off deadlier assassins blindfolded and with his hands bound behind his back, but the difference is that it’s frowned upon to punch his children. Which means, regrettably, he folds.

“Hey!” Bruce manages to snatch one of Jason’s hands, but it leaves him open for Dick to squeeze his sides. Bruce’s laughter gets the better of him and he leans into Diana for protection.

Diana gasps in sheer delight.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish, Bruce! Did you know about this?” She tugs on Clark’s sleeve. He takes a few pictures of Bruce.

“Yeah, I…found out pretty early. Figured I should let you stumble across it, lest Bruce suddenly ‘find’ that kryptonite spear he swears he got rid of.” Clark murmurs. Bruce gives him the finger, face burning.

With some difficulty, Bruce manages to detach Jason and Dick from his person. They both grumble at being foiled, but they look like…they’re in trouble? Or expecting it, at least. It tugs painfully at Bruce’s spirit.

He swallows the lecture he was going to give in favor of ruffling their hair aggressively. Dick laughs, Jason screeches indignantly, and Bruce figures that’s more than enough for now.

“You look thoroughly debauched, we’re fashionably late, and I’ve just figured out what I’d like to do with the next three hours of my time. Minimum.” Diana smooths her hands over Bruce’s chest.

“See, I liked the first part of that. How about we stay there?” Bruce hovers a hair’s breadth from her lips with a smirk. She closes the gap, pulling him close by the back of his neck.

Evil fingers pinch his sides and Bruce squeaks into Diana’s mouth.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” Clark grins. Bruce scowls with no heat. Clark bestows a righteous apology kiss upon him, one that takes him out at the knees a bit.

“I’m out.” Jason gags, trudging up the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you both.” Dick winks, bounding after Jason.

Bruce sighs fondly as they go. It’s Clark who holds his waist this time, leaning in to murmur in his ear.

“Are we sure that we have to go?”

“If Vicki Vale is going to hunt me down for an exclusive anywhere, I’d rather it not be here. Again.” Bruce squeezes Clark’s hand.

“It’d be a waste not to take these outfits for a spin.” Diana loops her arm through Bruce’s. He hums in approval and starts to walk them to the door.

“Maybe I can be convinced to make an early exit.” Bruce smirks at the way his partners stiffen beside him.

…

They grace the gala for truly an hour at best—Diana and Clark have an express talent for winding each other up and Bruce is, in truth, a weak man. Their outfits spend more cumulative time on the bedroom floor than on their bodies.

The moon lays a quiet blessing on the master bedroom once they’ve finished, bathing everything a cool silver. Bruce’s bed had always felt too big for sleep—he took any excuse he could to curl up on a couch or in the cave—but for them, it’s perfect. There’s no telling where one of them ends or begins, just limbs tangled in content fondness.

“Who’s your favorite? Me or Diana?” Clark whispers teasingly. A chuckle rumbles low in Bruce’s chest.

“Diana.” Bruce cracks open one eye to drink in the glory of Clark’s offended face. Diana rewards him a hot, languid trail of kisses to the underside of his jaw.

“Bruce, look at his face. How could he not be your favorite?” Diana tilts Bruce’s chin in Clark’s direction.

“I thought you’d be flattered.” Bruce huffs. “Fine, Clark’s my favorite.”

“Bruce. C’mon.” Clark adds another love bite to the growing collection on his collarbone. “Just look at Diana.”

“I am getting very mixed signals here,” Bruce gasps softly, clenching his fingers in the sheets. Clark’s kisses grow light and insistent.

“Clark.” Bruce fights tooth and nail against the smile trying to fight its way onto his face. Goosebumps flare across his chest. Clark nibbles a little and Bruce twitches.

“Yes?” He blinks innocently.

“Don’t ruin this.” Bruce squishes his cheeks threateningly. Clark dives to nuzzle Bruce’s neck, scooping him up into his arms. Tired and shmoopy, Bruce giggles and reaches for Diana. She props herself up on her elbow, amused, and gives him her hand.

“What?” Bruce snickers, flinching away from Clark’s deadly lips.

“Just taking all this in. I’m meeting this version of you for the first time.” Diana hums.

“I think Giggly Bruce is my favorite.” Clark peppers more kisses, the endless fount of affection that he is.

“That’s not—there’s no—stoppit—“ Bruce curls in on himself. Clark wiggles his fingers into Bruce’s stomach and chases his blushing neck with his lips.

“I agree, Kal.” The name catches beautifully on Diana’s tongue. Evidently, Clark seems to agree—he peeks over Bruce’s shoulder with a radiant smile.

“Can I convince you two to at least try and sleep?” Bruce huffs, scratchy and fond. Diana hums and slides closer, tucking herself into Bruce’s chest. He skims his fingers across her back in gentle patterns.

Quiet blooms in the room as their breathing starts to sync. The weight of Clark’s arm is as much a comfort as Diana’s breath against his skin. Bruce thinks, distantly, that he might like to fall asleep like this every night.

“Di, c’mon—“ Clark snickers, then giggles.

“You’re both terrible at this.” Bruce turns over to squint at Clark. Clark can’t even look at him—his entire being is scrunched in restrained laughter as he slaps Diana’s tickling hand away from his hip.

Bruce slowly turns to the other menace in his bed. Diana just shrugs.

Bruce flops back down on the bed and actually manages to doze off, lured into floating sleep by the gentle rumble of Clark’s chest. This means he’s completely blindsided when the morning renews his partners’ unending playfulness, but safe arms to sleep in are well worth the sacrifice.

#my fics #dc #superwonderbat #justice league #this was so fun to write i got lost in the sauce #plot? who?#ticklish!bruce wayne #lil bit of clark at the end too #bruce wayne #clark kent #diana prince #dick grayson #jason todd #dick and jason might be ooc but. much like with bruce i am taking custody and making them mine

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arcielee · 1 year

Text

Wait So Long

Summary: You are trying to surprise your boyfriend and it does not work out like you had planned. Pairing: modern Aegon Targaryen x FemaleReader Word Count: 2279 Warnings: Implied sexy times, but this is purely fluff. Author’s Note: Here is another part of my series-that-isn’t-really-a-series. This is a collaboration piece I did with the darling, talented @f4ll-for-you ♥ Her work is amazing and I cannot thank her enough for her help with this piece! And a shoutout to my amazing beta reader @foxee-d-or. Taglist (my Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aspen-carter @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @randomdragonfires

“Yeah, I know, Cree, but I keep telling you and Jace that I fucking suck at this game,” you heard Aegon whine into his headset, animated with his hands and wielding the controller as an emphasis to his words. “And, yet, I still play with you all, only to be verbally abused by you cunts-” his eyes rolled over and he saw you.

One of the many things you cherished about your relationship with this man was his ability to read you like a book, to such a degree he seemed more aware of the emotion you were feeling before it registered with yourself. Aegon moved in a fluid motion, beginning with the words, “Hey, I’ve got to go right now,” before he tore off and abandoned both the headset and controller on the couch; he pushed from his seat and moved towards you, his brow furrowed with concern.

Then you felt it, the tears that spilled from the corners of your eyes and bunching your lashes together. You did not know when it started, perhaps the frustration that had been building since you first took on this contract role, something you have been adamant about six weeks prior.

In the beginning, you saw his hesitation, but you coaxed him into believing it was a good idea, and in theory it had been. You promised him this job would allow you to polish your portfolio and you promised to quit that customer service role you currently worked. You explained your excitement to finally do something with your damn degree and how you could use the extra money to upgrade your equipment.

“I can buy you new equipment, though,” he had argued and you vehemently refused, continuing on about your independence, how this was your career, your passion.

And he listened to your every word, watching you in a way that was so uniquely him and you loved him for it: the slight tilt of his head, how his lips pursed together when he was not quite yet convinced, how his lavender eyes moved back and forth with your presentation.

“Only four weeks?” was all he had asked when you were done. You swore yes.

Now you were on to your seventh week, dealing with a client who was unhappy with everything you presented, with their ceaseless revisions that kept prolonging the contract; yes, the pay was nice, but you were unsure if it was worth your sanity.

In truth, you did want to utilize your degree and this opportunity would allow you to be rid of the customer service role you had since uni, to finally transition to remote work life. You also had an ulterior motive: a gift for Aegon.

He had always spoiled you and you loved him for it, but you were also frustrated that any gift you managed seemed to pale in comparison. “Babe,” he laughed the one time you tried to bring it up to him, “I’m a fucking trust fund baby. Just allow me to pay it forward, since you have already done so much for me as it is!”

This only made you all the more determined to contribute, as meager as your income seemed prior to this contract, but Aegon never breathed a word of complaint, other than he hated you being away from the apartment you shared.

It was the selling point. “If I take this, I will quit that job,” your tone honeyed and your eyes doleful. “This way I can work at home and be with you.”

But also, you desperately wanted to buy him a dog.

The idea came from his friends, Jace and Cregan, when you had a moment alone to press them for an anniversary gift for Aegon. They hemmed over their words and finally Jace mentioned getting him a dog and Cregan nodded enthusiastically.

“He sends us clips all the time,” he continued. “Specifically a golden retriever.”

You squealed your excitement at the possibility to outshine your boyfriend gift wise. “This is perfect! There is no way he can top that!”

They had exchanged looks, but said nothing.

Fate presented itself with a text from Cregan, letting you know his half-sister’s dog was pregnant from a dog park mishap, which also happened to be the same dog that began Aegon’s fixation on them. You texted Sara immediately and she offered your pick of the litter, letting you know her dog was about five weeks along.

It felt like everything was falling into place: the contract job would finish a week after, you could take Aegon to choose his pup, then go to Cregan and Jace’s apartment to collect the pet paraphernalia you had been hoarding there.

There was a moment when Cregan stopped by to grab the royal purple collar and leash, that Aegon happened to return home sooner than you planned.

Your relationship had a rocky beginning, but through his rehabilitation came an unwavering trust between you both. You considered yourself lucky to have Aegon as your boyfriend in that regard; there was no hint of jealousy when he found Cregan at the apartment, but his confusion was apparent when he saw him holding the leash and collar.

“I was showing her the collar,” his friend stammered. “I bought it for this…girl I am dating-uh, fucking,” Cregan had a white knuckled grip and you watched Aegon for his response.

“Uh,” he narrowed his eyes on him for a moment. “That’s good for you?”

Cregan was quick to leave.

Sara let you know the puppies had been born but that was four weeks ago and you were three weeks extended into this contract with the most unpleasable, nit-picking cunt clients. You wanted it to end; you had already sneaked away to pay the pet deposit and all that was left was to bring Aegon to be surprised by the litter, but instead you received your umpteenth email of revisions needed and it would damn you to another week of this never ending misery.

At first, you felt confident when you accepted this contract; you always had a knack to gauge colors, pigmentation, and you were software savvy to pick up on whatever the client was using. The interview left you feeling like they would value your expertise, but instead the weeks whittled away at your self-confidence, having you second guess your every attempt to begin this damnable career.

You thought to quit it all and just accept being spoiled by Aegon.

“Hey, pretty,” you heard Aegon coo and it returned your attention to the kitchen. He was rounding the counter and moving towards your spot; you worked here because the lighting was what you wanted and you appreciated how it overlooked the living room, where the curtains were drawn and allowed whatever sunshine was available to pour in.

Aegon would crash onto the couch when he knew you were at the end of your workday and you liked looking up from your laptop screen, exchanging glances with him.

“What’s going on?”

His arm wrapped around your shoulder and you allowed your head to fall to his chest; silent sobs of your budding frustration wracked your body. You felt him tuck you under his chin, wrapping both arms around you, with the whisper of, “Come on, sweet girl, I know you need to cry, but remember to breathe…”

The tears eventually subsided and he pulled you from the counter, bringing you back to the couch. He pulled you into his lap and held onto you still, while he hummed one of the many songs he seemed to have on repeat in his mind; his singing, his musical talent was a newer habit he discovered during his rehabilitation and was something you adored, along with his sobriety.

When he finished his chorus, you pulled back from his chest and he reached to grab your chin, turning your head to meet with his eyes.

“Quit the fucking contract,” he repeated, time and time again. “I will pay you whatever they will pay you and you can stay right here in my lap, but, you know, without the tears. Perhaps lingerie instead? It would be purely professional, of course.”

Your laughter felt groggy from your tears and he moved his large, warm palm to wipe your face dry. “Aeg,” your voice cracked, but you could not help your smile. “I’m gross.”

“Yes, you are,” he agreed with a smirk, wiping his hand dry on his jeans and moving to your other cheek. “Quit these cunts, they do not deserve you.”

“But…” and you faltered for a moment, realizing it was best to come clean with your true intention with the job. “But I also wanted this because I have a surprise for you.”

He groaned, falling back into the couch and pulling you against his chest. “How many times must I tell you that I already have everything I want,” and he wrapped his arms tight around your waist, nuzzling into your neck. “Must you make me repeat the cliches? That your presence in my life is present enough? That you, pretty girl, are my gift?”

You giggled and squirmed from his hold, the stubble on his jawline tickling your neck. You pulled back to look into his beautiful eyes and his wide cheesy grin on display. “I know, but I wanted to something more, give you something you really want-”

“I am dead serious about my contract opening,” he dead-panned. “About the pay and the underwear.”

You looked at him, his smile so contagious, and leaned forward to capture his lips with your own. His fingers combed through your hair, holding the back of your head; his lips felt warm and soft against your own, his beard growth tickling still. You giggled and he moved to rub his face against your neck again, goosebumps rippling over you.

“But what about a puppy?”

He stopped his movement and pulled back to take you in. “That was the gift?” The excitement bubbled in his voice, his eyes bright as they looked over you. “You were really going to get me a puppy?”

You nodded, smiling from his reaction. “Sara’s dog had a litter and I already paid all the fees, I have been getting the supplies, then we would go and pick you out a new furry friend…”

His hands cupped your face and he pressed a kiss to your hairline, then tilted your head back to find your lips again; you melted against his chest. “This is why you have been working this shit job?” He pulled away, his tone accusing. “I have been absolutely heartsore watching you slave away for these ungrateful swines who cannot tell the difference between azure or cerulean-”

“...you couldn’t either when we first started dating,” you remind him with a grin.

He held up a finger. “True, but if I hired a brilliant graphic designer, I would listen to your expertise and learn.” You blush and he sighed, pulling you against his chest for another hug and it was your turn to sigh, loving how well you fit against him.

There was a moment of silence and he continued. “A dog is a big responsibility and I would need your help,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your neck. “I am also not a fan of the stress they have been causing you, your anxiety has been in overdrive since this contract keeps being extended…”

You sighed again and he shifted his legs, catching your chin to bring your eyes to meet with his own. “I know you want this for your career and I will support whatever you choose,” he began, his eyes wide and watchful, the hint of a smirk to his lips. “I feel I must repeat myself and let you know I will happily fund you to be my perfect girl.”

You cannot help but roll your eyes, but giggled knowing that he would actually pay you to be a homebody, if it meant he got to be around you all the time.

The evening was spent with your laptop off, your notifications muted, and cuddled up with Aegon while watching some TV show you had been binging together. There is comfort being curled up, a pleasant warmth shared that inevitably lulls Aegon to sleep and you listen to his soft snores.

You were careful to pull away, creeping towards your laptop and reading the emails missed; not one included a thank you for your effort shown thus far, or any indication that your supposed contract would be over any time soon. Rubbing your eyes as if it would wipe away your frustration, you decided you had enough, that there were other jobs, other opportunities, and you didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

After pressing send on your resignation email, you slammed your laptop shut and felt a mixture of relief and worry wash over you. The sound caused Aegon to stir, his sleepy eyes barely open. “Babe?” he sounded confused, almost delirious.

“After careful consideration I have decided to accept your offer,” you joked, doing your best to mark the worry that brimmed beneath.

Aegon smiles, your words registering and waking him up. “Wonderful,” he breathed, pulling you in and sprinkling kisses over your face. “We start tomorrow with picking up our puppy,” and he giggled in a way that made your heart swell in your chest. “Then, we have to pick out a uniform…”

You giggled and grinned with how he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows, feeling a sense of relief washing over you and letting you know that you made the right decision; you could trust that, together, you would figure it out.

Arcie’s Masterlist // modern Aegon Targaryen masterlist

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