#so i could give him a silly slot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marwhoa · 8 months

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request: You write the turtles boys so well! I literally can't stop smiling when I read your fics - they're so sweet and endearing. I was wondering, only if it strikes your interest of course, if you'd consider writing about the boys being jealous of each other when the reader spends time with them one on one? Like, maybe a slot for Leo where he thinks reader finds Donnie funnier? Or one for mikey, where he thinks that reader likes how big raph is? Or for raph, where he thinks reader is more enamored with Leo? Or Donnie, where he worries that Mikey is flirting with reader? Of course they're all misunderstandings, and maybe it could end all fluffy with confessions and comforting their respective boy? If not, don't worry, but if so, thank you! 1 look forward to whatever you put out next.

🝮 “ green with envy ”

rise!boys x y/n

author’s note: screaming profusely !!! eeeee !!! So hey yeah here’s a fic, this took a while because it sat in my notes for days before I finally posted it, my bad. This was kinda hard cause I’m not experienced in the realm of jealousy—hopefully y’all like it? ᗡ: also does envy even fit this scenario? Lmao I just be naming these fics any thing, can y’all tell?

word count: 6.1k

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌

Leo never expected he could ever become… jealous, not him—no, no, NEVER him. He had too much pride, too much confidence. There should have never been any room for doubt in his ability to keep you focused and adoring on him, and him alone.

But, perhaps he had given himself too much credit? Or, maybe he had given his twin too little credit.

It wasn’t as though you were his. Just friends, and technically that meant you belonged to the whole family, not just him. But, no one could blame him for coveting you. From how starry-eyed you looked at him to how genuinely you laughed at his jokes, Leo found out too late that he had been falling for you, and here he was still falling. The way your nose crinkled when you laughed, or how your face lit up during Mikey’s dinner times, even down to the wheezing laugh you would give into if he pushed his jokes on too long, all of it spelled out lovely disaster for his heart.

But, fear not, he thought. He was the face man and the funniest turtle, surely there was no competition? No one could be better than him at getting you to make the faces you did.

Or well, it should’ve been no one. He wasn’t even all that funny, but Donnie managed to get you to keel over to some stuff he said—and he didn’t even intend for them to be jokes! A natural comic, can you believe the nerve of this guy?

So, yeah, Leo never expected himself to be jealous, and especially never towards his own brother, but god the way you were showing that tickled-silly expression to Donnie, wiping tears as he confusedly asked what was so funny? It had him gripping the arm of their couch, digging his nails into them. He wasn’t going to take this any longer! Sure Donnie meant no harm and would never try to swoop in and steal the prize he had his eye on, but Leo couldn’t help but still be… aggravated.

The pent-up annoyance was dispelled by the red-slider leaping over the couch, sassily walking over and snaking his arm across your waist.

“ Yeah, whatever, Donnie is sooo funny, but hey, Y/N, let me show you something better! ”

Never mind the fact that he had nothing planned as he twirled his katana in his other hand, slicing the air until a blue portal shimmered into existence. You glanced back and waved good bye to Donnie, fully intrigued by whatever it was Leo wanted to show you.

“ Oh—okay! What is it? ”

“ Who am I to ruin a surprise? ”

He cocked a brow at your question, tugging you through the portal and stepping out into the courtyard of the Witch’s city. While amazed, you wondered just what this had to do with anything—but, of course that was a comment you would keep to yourself until having fully exhausted the excitement of exploring not just any random town, but rather a town of witches!

“ Oh, Leo, finally! I’ve been begging you to bring me here for weeks! ”

Before he could even say anything, you were quickly rushing up to the nearest shop and sparking up conversation. Such a busy bee, but it was just another aspect of you he was captivated by. However, with such an impromptu visit to a rather overwhelming area, he found chances to spark conversation and get you to laugh to be stretched few and far between.

“ Oh wow, this store really doesn’t leave mushroom for walk-through, huh? ”

He gestured to a potions-ingredients shop, which, you guessed it, specialized in all things fungal-based. His shoulders drooped as you continued ahead, not even hearing him. That joke was gold! Huffing, Leo caught up with you and laced his fingers around your wrist, effortlessly stopping you in your tracks.

“ Mm? Leo? ”

You stared up at him with such a look of focus, all your attention finally fully on him, and he had to fight his legs not to reduce to jelly instantly. Instead, he took a deep breath, cocked his head, and insisted you follow him.

Down weaving alleys, through crowds of people, eventually you reached a park unlike any seen on the surface. The paths were lined with thick, luscious plants cultivated through the town’s magic. Foliage swayed with no wind, as though dancing like silk fabric to whatever music only they heard.

Your attention only left the plants when you heard Leo start clearing his throat and then flashing you a look that you recognized all too well. A grin was already tugging at your lips, and Leo finally felt like he was the only one in your world again. His hands held onto his belt and he kicked out his legs, faking as though he were tipping a hat. It seemed like some western cowboy impersonation?

“ What in carnation? ”

There you went, first with a light and short laugh.

“ Well I do say, I took a leaf of faith bringing you here,”

Which then melded into a series, topped with a “ Wait, Leo, hush—please! ”, all stuttered and peppered through your increasing laughter.

“—but, beleaf it or not—“

He wasn’t even able to finish the entire spiel before you were holding onto him, laughing with such a melodious voice. Which, of course, devolved into your trademark wheeze n’snort after dragging on too long.

“ Pwffhaaha!! Leo, wha-what’s with you today? ”

You wiped away a tear, and suddenly Leo was finally brought back to reality. Your hand on his forearm lingered, and he was just completely beside himself with how the glowing willows beside the garden softened your face ever-so-perfectly.

“ Y/N… ”

His voice was so uncharacteristically soft that it had you a tad bit spooked, hand gripping a teensy tighter. Your head cocked slightly in confusion.

“ I.. Ugh, okay, it’s—it’s dumb! But—“

He dragged his hands down his face, groaning exhaustedly.

“ I thought, maybe, you might’ve… Liked Donnie, more than me. ”

“ Huh? Why would you think that, I love all of you guys? ”

“ Yeah, but I love you, and—“

The shock painted on your face had him holding his breath. Alarms went off in his head, telling him he maybe should have held his tongue, not jumped ahead so quickly. The two of you searched each other’s eyes in silence, you recovering from what he said, and him preparing himself for what you would say. Soon enough, your face twisted into a confusion tinged with a bit of playfulness.

“ Wait a second.. You’re jealous, aren’t you? Of Donnie? What for? ”

“ What? What do you mean what for? You, you’ve been laughing at everything he said all day, don’t you think he’s funnier? Don’t you like him more?! ”

If it weren’t his dumb puns and act earlier, it was this that would do you in.

“ Leo, you dummy! Sure I was laughing, but that doesn’t mean I like him more than you, I just, well… ”

It was your turn to be a bit bashful as your eyes looked everywhere except him.

“ I, well.. You’re my favorite, Leo, not Donnie.. ”

As you batted your eyes at him, hoping he would connect the dots thoroughly, your answer was given in the form of his beaming expression as he swept you into his arms, spinning.

“ Ah-hah! So you do like me—and I’m the funnier turtle!? ”

“ Oh no, I shouldn’t have said anything, now you’re too powerful! ”

Playfully you cried, leaning back with your hand dramatically draped across your forehead. Leo chuckled at your antics leaning in to lay his head against your stomach as he tightened his hold firmly.

This was definitely something he would rub in his brother’s face later on—and said brother would be profusely confused by what brought it on???

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌

Mikey was the last turtle you ever considered could suffer from the classic ailment of “ jealousy ”, and you couldn’t help but feel both ashamed yet intrigued.

While you weren’t too sure what it was that had got him so riled up, you were observant enough to see the way his eyes lit up with a startling emotion. At first it was impossible to pinpoint, just a glimpse of something indiscernible yet startling that crept into his blue hues at the oddest of times.

The first time you had seen that frightful emotion peek its head was during a date. The two of you had decided to hit a bar late at night, him donning a cloaking brooch, of course.

When you arrived, the loud music was entrancing, luring you both onto the dance floor to get lost in each other’s arms. The music coiled around you both, closing the gap to a suffocatingly tight end, as if either of you couldn’t stand any sort of distance apart. The floor vibrated, from both the booming speakers and the music reverberating the whole building alongside the dancing bodies around you both.

Mikey beamed with the brightest smile, and you just knew he was laughing, albeit drowned out from the ambiance. You were both having the time of your lives. Absorbed into a bubble fit for only the two of you, eyes locked on each other, neither party was ready for the stranger’s hands that snaked around your waist, pulling you in without any mind paid to you already having a devoted dance partner.

Chills set in and you turned to Mikey instantly, locking eyes, but the look in his eyes was enough to have your voice hitch in your throat.

That night ended with you both getting kicked out after Mikey wailed on the guy, but after a while, you both laughed and talked all about the fight on the way home.

The next time you saw that look was when you were hanging out with Leo while waiting for Mikey to return back from patrol. He had invited you over, and you planned to do it after wrapping up a few things, so he figured he could finish a patrol and be ready for you when you got done.

Unfortunately for him, you happened to finish your escapade much too early, and thus were at the lair awaiting his return. Leo happened to pass by, so you roped him into a conversation to bide the time. When Mikey did eventually come home, he stepped in to see you nearly keeled over in laughter.

You had been laughing so hard that when you noticed Mikey, you gave a weak wave and continued dying. He was curious what the joke was, but Leo simply shook his head and left, his own laugh dwindling down the hall. Once you recovered and were on your feet, you caught that same scary emotion swirling in his eyes. He tightened his lips and only softened when he turned to you.

More and more questions arose as you came to experience this look time and time again in all kinds of situations, but the one that finally made all the clicks pop into place was his outburst after you were with Raph.

He had been taking care of some villains on patrol with Mikey when you had ended up in the wrong place, wrong time. Their battle had turned to a violent one, with the villain bashed straight into a wall. Debris crumbled down right as you turned the corner, eyes shooting up to see parts of the building falling towards you. There was no time to move, so you just closed your eyes shut right and braced yourself.

But, no pain ever came, just a bit of dust. You opened your eyes, seeing a huge shadow casted over your body, and when you looked up?

It was Raph, who blocked the falling debris with his mighty shell.

“ Raph! “

You yelped, heart thundering in your chest, and Mikey misunderstood the shimmer in your eyes as Raph rose to full height, throwing the concrete off and away. He misinterpreted why you hugged him so tightly when he scooped you up, taking you away from the damage and ushering you to run the other way.

When you’re focusing on the wrong things, it’s easy to get the signs wrong, and boy had the ache in Mikey’s heart got everything so totally wrong. You liked Raph, didn’t you? Why else would you look at him like that? Did you like it when folks were bigger than you, unlike him who simply had an inch or two on you?

How could he be so stupid?

So, that’s how you ended up where you were now, seconds from entering your apartment when Mikey met you with a sour look on his face. You noticed that same glint in his eyes, still trying to piece together what it meant.

“ Why didn’t you tell me? ”

His voice wavered, and you responded with a hum of confusion. Inviting him in, he closed the door behind you both. His lips tugged down as he searched everywhere for the words to say. Finally, he found them and settled back on you as you were putting things down and unwinding.

“ With Raph! You like him, don’t you?! ”

“ Wha? ”

“ You—You! ”

He seemed frustrated, wracking his brain until finally he threw his hands out and shouted.

“ DO YOU LOVE RAPH MORE BECAUSE HE’S SO BIG?! ”

Silence blanketed you both as you processed his words. Finally, you placed a word on the emotion you always saw in his eyes. Struggling not to laugh at the absurdity, you snorted and shook your head.

“ Jealousy! That’s wh—wait, no, Mikey, no, I don’t ‘Love Raph cause he’s big’ ”

“ Then why do you like him more!? ”

“ Where is this coming from, Mikey, I don’t like Raph like that—I like you. ”

You stepped closer, and Mikey let you in. Your hands reached up, cupping his cheeks, and he leaned into them with such a desperation that you felt bad for finding this whole situation so silly.

“ Just, you always seem so happy when he’s around, and whenever he saves you instead, you always.. ”

His eyes were elsewhere as he spoke, almost as though he were seeing the absurdity in it all now with a clearer mind.

“ Ahh, mhmm, yup, alright so Mikey usually people are very happy when they’re saved from danger—and I mean, I probably look happy cause I’m friends with him too, but I’m dating you, silly. ”

You booped his snoot, smiling as his eyes lit up with the love you were accustomed to seeing them full of.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌

If there was any one of the brothers full of insecurities, it would come as no surprise as the spotlight shone upon the red turtle, atop the winner’s pedestal. As someone who once led his brothers in the face of battle, who grew up with the elder sibling curse of forced parenthood, it came as no shock that there were a couple of problems sprinkled into his character.

While he had spent much of his life up to this point recovering and healing from what dared chip at his exterior, there was more than a few bits of stubborn grime that lingered on his surface. It ate away at him, leaving behind vulnerabilities.

Then you came along, and throughout the honeymoon period he experienced nothing but delights. Never had the negative Nancy in his brain perked up to talk her shit, misleading him in circles until he was a mess of unbundled, tangled up rope.

You were a light, something that seemed to power wash the grime away, cake over it with your delicate touch and sweet words. Much smaller than he, you were probably one of the kindest humans he met, someone he cherished more than life itself.

And that, in and of itself, was a vulnerability. You were his weakness, and the shrewd dark spots in his brain couldn’t wait for the rose-colored glass to shatter and let them sink their teeth into this beauteous opportunity.

The sensible part of him knew your kindness knew no ends, that it wasn’t limited or excluded to simply him or a select few. In fact, your sweet demeanor shared with his brothers? It was a breath of relief—it was an understatement to say he had been nervous to introduce you to the family. You were okay with him because he saved you, but his brothers and father weren’t present. They hadn’t been the heroes slamming down against concrete, scaring away the silverfish that preyed upon you one fateful night.

Turns out the trash-eaters had a hankering for good food, and you, all alone, on your way back home with a doggy-bag from Cleo’s Beach Shack, served to be the perfect target.

The night had been quiet, albeit suspiciously so, but your full tummy and weary limbs had their guard fully down. You daydreamed of the bed awaiting you at home, arms beckoning you forth with pillowy softness.

That delightful image was disturbed by the sudden rustling and clank you heard from behind. Turning, your eyes shooed away dreamland and were alert. An empty can rolled from a bush, tinking into someone’s trash can at the curb. Not a soul in sight, so surely it must have been one of New York’s infamous rats? Y’know, that creature that is practically extinct in this city, like there’s no way you would ever see them—definitely not at the metro nor the coffee shop, and surely never this residential street with primo rat hot-spots such as unsupervised trash cans full of food waste.

Yeah, of course, must have been a rat. You’re so paranoid, just hurry on home, nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad ever happens to pretty little guys like you, alone on dimly lit streets, lined with houses whose doors are locked to high hell.

Nothing bad, especially not like the cold metal that clamped firmly on your ankle. Never anything as worse as the chilling growl from whatever tripped you up, glaring with red eyes and flicking a long, sharp-looking tail.

“ Oh sh—“

Your voice feebly complained, raising into a scream to the heavens above as it lunged towards you.

Or well, towards your to-go bag, but who’s paying attention to the little things like that when your life is flashing before your eyes?

Thankfully, the end never came. There was the sound of a growling struggle after a tremor shook your shivering frame, and as you opened your eyes to peek at whatever held up your attacker, a silhouette towered over you. He casted a long shadow over you, which should have been intimidating as hell, but instead it left you feeling…

Safer?

In his hand laid two identical buggers, squirming and chomping with animalistic hunger. This had to have been worse than the rats, you’d take the rats any day, at least they weren’t massive.

… well okay, they are, but this is a whole ‘nother level.

The most shocking part was this giant hero taking a step back, assuming the position of a pitcher, and launching the creatures into the distance. There may have been a glint shining, and was that the cheer of an audience you were hearing? No, that was your imagination, obviously.

But you were not imagining this guy in front of you. Much too tall to be human, unless it was some basketball lead who somehow had balls of steel to save a stranger.

Every warning sign imaginable was washed away without a trace as your savior turned around and shot a shaky smile, warm as a summer sun.

“ S-Sorry about that, are ya okay? ”

He spoke with the timidness of someone a fourth his size, and you couldn’t help but be completely charmed to death.

From that day you would see him more and more, to the point that it felt as if maybe he had been appointed your personal body guard. Ah, but, you didn’t really mind, did you? You loved his company and his toothy grins. You adored his warm, gentle hugs, and it was too sweet how you could feel his hands tremble as they held yours ever so delicately.

So yeah, he worried to introduce you to his family, but the way you brightened up the room instantly had him starstruck. You’re perfect, that’s it. That’s the tweet.

The rosey glass shattered after a few lingering months of dating. His insecurities reared their heads, resting sharp grips on his shoulders as they whispered in his ears all kinds of falsities. You liked his brothers, but maybe you liked his brothers? Why else would you be so nice to them?

And, maybe that’s why you were smiling at Leo like that? Raph is right here, so why were you talking to his brother? He couldn’t even focus enough to heard you both holding the most mundane conversation ever about some shop that opened up over on Moore’s. He steeped in the tea of jealousy, filling his senses to the brim with worry.

The worst part about it was that if you liked Leo, he couldn’t even blame you. Leo was like water, while Raph was stone. Raph stood still, he could be bossy at times, while Leo was a spunky little river that would keep you on your toes. Leo was never boring, and he could keep a smile on your face for as long as the day lasted..

But he didn’t want any of that to be true. None of it.

The conversation was stopped by a meek voice asking for your time, attention shifting from Brother Blue to your beloved, clad in what became your favorite color in these past few months.

“ Y/N, can we talk? ”

Ignoring Leo’s nudge and teasing “ ooooooohs ”, you nodded with a smile, following Raph with a pep in your step.

“ Of course, dear. ”

That lead to the silence you currently shared—with him leaning against the wall of his room, gaze fixated on some smudges on the floor. That should be cleaned up, he thought, trying to not think of how you were sat on his bed, awaiting whatever it was he needed off his chest.

“ Raph? ”

You were the first to talk, already well acquainted with your love’s tiptoeing when it came to any sort of conversation that might be unsavory. You watched as he twisted his expression, tightening his lips—whatever it was, it was bothering him profusely, and you couldn’t help the pang gripping your heart..

“ Raph…? ”

Again, your voice seemed weaker this time. That was what gave him the drive to speak, he couldn’t handle leaving you in such a state, he needed to know if these worries of his were dumb!

“ Do you like Leo? ”

“ What. ”

Your response was so fast and curt, the product of being completely taken off guard with a left hook. There were plenty of other ideas you had for the direction of this conversation, such as having beaten his leftovers last week or how you have his favorite hoodie in your laundry basket right now. Maybe even the secret trips to Donnie’s, who was currently helping you get together a gift for Raph’s birthday next month. A particularly low worry even fretted that this might be a conversation about your relationship and how it should end.

But, instead it’s about Leo? What an easy question to answer!

“ Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I mean to say no. ”

Raph’s shoulders loosened and a breath of relief slipped out of him—when had he even started holding his breath?? Never mind that. You snorted at the absurd thought of liking Leo of all people.

“ Why would I like Leo? Raph, c’mere. ”

You held your hands out, and the way his hands fell into yours spelled out a desperation to be close to you. With a gentle tug, he climbed onto his bed, and you melted into his chest. A storm was brewing in his chest, his heart thundering nervously.

“ Ya just, Raph don’t know, something—he, just… Raph was worried, s’all. Afraid ya preferred him over a… ”

While he was searching for whatever word to insult himself with, you captured his attention with a gentle peck on the lips. Your fingers gently held his chin, turning his focus to lay fully on you.

“ Over a charming, handsome hero? ”

There was that adorable smile, peppering his lips as a light laugh erupted from his chest.

“ You think I’d prefer Leo, who is a risky little ticking time bomb, over my knight in shining armor? ”

He whispered a rebuttal, something along the lines of “ he really is, huh? ”

“ Oh Raph-a-doodle, never could I want anyone other than you. ”

Leaning up, you pressed your forehead against his and gazed into his eyes. They searched yours for a hint of deceit, for anything to latch onto and spiral about, but all he found was warmth.

Thus, the jealousy flame died out, and he plummeted backwards against his bed, dragging you down with him. He gave a heavy exhale as you giggled atop his plastron, scolding him for being so silly.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌

The green of jealousy was a hue you never expected to be painted across the purple canvas you called your boyfriend, but surely there is a chance for any reality to blossom true, right?

Jealousy had sewn seeds far before either of you could catch on, oblivious to the roots which spiraled and narrowed vision to see only one option as opposed to the myriad of other reasonings. You had poured love into your dearest Donnie, so much so that you couldn’t even fathom any room for jealousy. How could he ever be jealous? Surely he knows full and well just how you look at him? Obviously he knows just how only he can pluck the strings of your heart, strumming love with each touch, in a way unlike any other.

Why, if you were Excalibur, then he was your King Arthur.

So, yeah, may the gods above forgive you for not considering a jealous Donnie as a reality to worry about—though, is it really too worrying? Your boyfriend being jealous? Kind of interesting, doesn’t it just trip up your heart into a flurry of skips?

No? Just me?

Anyways, you had missed entirely the shifting of his gaze when Mikey would enter the room. The low growl, the holding of his breath, none of it had appeared in your mind as you laughed along with whatever silly antics the youngest brother would get up to. Sometimes you would even entertain him! I mean, he is your boyfriend’s little brother, so it’s only right that you laugh at his jokes, get along with him, and all that good stuff.

But, jealousy was the type to hold someone still, to draw their gaze upon one stiff perspective and allow no other reasoning. For a man of science, even he was not above the laws of insecurity in relationships, so when he saw how bouncy his brother was around you, never did he contemplate the obvious. Nary a thought shall he consider that it was simply his brother getting along with his brother’s girlfriend, nor did he consider maybe you were being nice. No, the sour, bitter green dipped his head in the nastiness of jealousy, and all he could consider in this moment was that you must have liked his brother more.

Or maybe, his brother liked you and intended to steal you away? Why else would you laugh so heartily at whatever nonsense his brother spouted? Whatever reason was there for the times he would find you in the kitchen, fixing up dinner alongside Mikey? What else could explain you returning home with topside art supplies and personalized tips to his youngest brother?

Obviously the jealous mind of Donatello Hamato was going to omit one important factor: you did this with all his brothers. If they told a good joke, you would laugh. If Mikey made dinner, you were guaranteed to be in the kitchen helping by fixing you and Donnie’s plates to your liking. If there was something on the surface any of the brothers needed, you would totally put it on your errand run, delivering it during your next visit.

But, jealousy cares not for easy explanations. It craves the most dramatic interpretations, and in this case?

The juiciest interpretation was that Mikey had set his eyes on you, Donnie’s prized lover, and you had fallen for him hook, line, and sinker.

No, no, no, Donnie says, not on his watch would he let you be swept off your feet by anyone else.

“ Y/N. ”

Donnie leaned forward, fingers firmly locking with yours and giving an urgent tug. There was a thickness layered in his eyes that left Mikey shrinking away, confused as to what he could’ve done wrong.

“ Let’s go,”

Straightening up, he couldn’t help the grin widening on his face in a “ I’ve won ” type of manner. You simply waved to his brother.

“ You haven’t forgotten why you’re here, have you? ”

The look in his eyes caused your heart to skip, unprepared for such a heavy gaze that you hadn’t yet experienced. A nervous smile rose on your expression as you looked anywhere but the face giving you a look that would serve to make you fall even harder.

“ Of course not, Dee. ”

Donnie noted your refusal to eye contact, and instead of assuming it was one of your usual bashful moments caused by yours truly, his thoughts were plagued with theories of Mikey somehow worming his way into the heart Donnie swore was his.

“ Right. ”

He muttered in a curt fashion, leading you both to his lab.

The uncomfortable awkwardness blanketing the atmosphere had not gone unnoticed as you followed him, thumb stroking loving little hearts upon the upside of his palm. Usually he would meet this with a firm squeeze, but you could recognize when your genius had his mind up in the clouds. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, was he?! And to think you came all this way to entertain his experiments, hoping to get a kiss or two, only to be met with unnecessary coldness?

What the heck, man?

“ Prepare to behold the wondrous creations of the genius, Donatello. ”

Whatever stink he had been brewing in just seconds prior had evaporated as he unveiled his newest creation: an air-fryer that could quite literally create anything from thin air.

You tried to ignore the distant shout of the youngest brother, something along the lines of “ Hey! Where’s the air-fryer?! ”

Donnie had not ignored it, nor had he dismissed the stifled laughter from you that he surely knew the cause of. His hands clenched, wrapping into crossed arms as he leaned his weight into the table.

“ Annoyed sigh. ”

While rolling his eyes, he muttered an annotation to the peeved groan slipping his lips. There it was again, you noted with a narrowed gaze, that odd discontentment he’d been soaking in this night.

“ Alright, spill it. ”

You mirrored his lean, relying on one of the structural pillars in his lab to hold your weight. Your fingers thumped impatiently against your bicep as your eyes soaked in Donnie’s body language. He seemed to stiffen, either nervously or defensively, you didn’t know.

“ Spill what? ”

He spoke with such an accusatory tone that you were almost ticked off. You held your tongue, hoping to keep this civil and not devolving into mindless argument.

“ Spill wh—?! ”

Sputtering, your hands gestured wildly before quite literally framing him. He knew what you meant, he wasn’t dumb!

“ Whatever is making you so, so—so THIS! ”

His brow raised, and he almost seemed insulted as you threw your hands up with a frustrated growl.

“ Why are you so upset with me right now? What did I do? ”

That seemed to do the charm of dragging out what you’ve been looking for, the explanation, as he straightened his posture and pushed off the table.

“ Oh save me the innocent act, Y/N,”

Confusion painted your face, and for a moment he physically faltered, unsure to continue after such a clear display of hurt across your pretty face. After a second, his mouth tugged into a frown, shaking off the hesitation to continue his claim,

“ I know you like Mikey, so just do us both a favor and go scurry along after him. ”

Donnie waved his hand off, pointing to the door. Whatever look you had on your face at that moment must have embodied just how deeply the pain in your heart crawled, right on down to your very core, because he seemed to balk at his own words. A bit of regret wrapped around him as he muttered something too low for you to hear.

Tightening your lips, you straightened this time and took a few steps to close the gap between you and him.

“ You will not talk to me like that, and what’s this about me liking Mikey? Your little brother? ME? You think I like him?! ”

There was no way, right? He couldn’t be serious? You, liking Mi—he might as well have been your brother too! You could never like him over Donnie?! What an outrageous claim, you thought, standing your ground in front of Donnie. This could have been avoided if he had just not been such, such a…

“ Obviously! Why else would you be bringing him gifts and helping him out in the kitchen? ”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted as he continued with an accusatory finger pointing no where specific.

“ And I’ll have you know that I have read about ‘Cooking together’ and I know how much of an intimate bonding experience it is! ”

The childish stomp he gave, throwing his fists against his sides stiffly, served to diminish almost all the frustration bubbling up. You snorted at the sight, causing him to loosen up, confusedly tripping over his words to sputter out a “ Wh-What, what is this, what’s so funny? ”

“ … You’re a riot, Dee. ”

Wiping away the tiny tears pricking from such a hearty laugh, your eyes met his with less of anger and more of the warmth he was far too familiar of.

“ Since apparently I’m the only one of us with some sense, I’ll have YOU know that I do that for all of y’all! ”

Sheepishly, he seemed to curl into himself as you poked your index finger right into his plastron to emphasize the “ you ”.

“ I bring you gifts all the time—April, Raph, Leo, hell, even Splinter, too! ”

Jealousy was starting to burn away, leaving behind the bashful shame as he started to finally contemplate the more reasonable explanations for your behavior. Silently he condemned himself for starting up this whole dumb debacle with such a blatant disregard to the facts.

“ And of COURSE I help Mikey with cooking. You have a specific palette that he doesn’t always remember fully, so it’s up to me to make sure you get a fulfilling meal you’ll actually eat, dummy! ”

Ah, now that was the part that did him in, something he didn’t even know. Just as you were going to continue, he stepped closer.

“ Wait, you do? ”

“ I do—do what? I said a lot of things, Donnie, be specific. ”

Derailed, you stumbled over your claims, lost suddenly at which point he had cling to.

“ I thought Michael was just inconsistent in his preparation of my dishes, but since you say that, I do recall my meals being much better when you were around. ”

His hands had found their way upon your shoulders as he spoke, gaze flitting all across the lab as he collected his thoughts.

“ I had suspected meals were just better when you were around because, well.. ”

You softened as his gaze fell onto you.

“ Because you were there.. ”

Silence fell upon you both, except more comfortably this time. He exhaled deeply, marked with his trademark “ relieved sigh ” then smiled at you.

“ Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into such a ridiculous argument. I was just… ”

“ You were just… Jealous? ”

Your teasing gaze was searing through him, so much so he shut his eyes tightly and groaned annoyedly.

“ As much as I would wish to not admit it, yes. I may have been experiencing,”

He waved his hand in the air, as if collecting his words.

“ Jealousy, towards your interactions with Miguel.. ”

Donnie was relieved as you laughed away all his worries, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. The moment lingered for a few, as if desperately needed to mend this situation, stopping only when you pulled away.

“ Alright, you’re forgiven… For now—BUT! Next time just talk to me, dummy, you got me all riled up for no reason. ”

With that, you gave a playful shove that had him gasping as though he were insulted, and quick to rush to his experiment’s side with more questions than he could keep up with.

Not like he hated an attentive and questioning audience, though. Much appreciated.

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definitelynotshouting · 4 months

Text

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE OF SECRET LIFE!!!!!

so i sped-wrote this as soon as i learned who the winner was this morning, tried to post it twice, tumblr mobile deleted it BOTH TIMES... but i will not be silenced ive finally gone to desktop /silly

this will go up on my rough draft pseud soon, but until then please enjoy the results of me being EXTREMELY unwell about the secret life finale. WOOOOOO WE ARE POPPING THE BIGGEST OF BOTTLES TODAY FR!!!!!!!!!!!

Grian barricades himself at the top of the highest tower of Tango's citadel the moment he wakes up. It's a calculated move, admittedly. There are a precious few places one might still find him if he truly wants to hide, but the Deep Frost Citadel isn't one of them— and with the second Decked Out coming to a ceremonious close, foot traffic here is perilously low. Dawn is a swift-approaching knife on the horizon, and Grian soars above it all, face numb with chill wind, wings brazen and feathers strewn across an empty sky.

He doesn't want to be near when Scar wakes. And he doesn't want to be found just yet, either. Oh, Scar will track him down. Of that, he has no doubt— but for now, Grian takes solace in the snow crunching underfoot as he locks himself inside this barren tower.

It's dark here, which suits Grian just fine. He doesn't bother lighting a lantern; instead, he huddles right on the floor, letting the ice seep through him. From here, he can just make out the sky as it lightens, bringing with it the dawn of a new victor. Nausea boils in his throat. With that victory comes a price, and Scar— And Grian— Well. Grian hasn't treated him very well throughout the games, now, has he?

He curls in on himself even further, feathers brushing along the length of his chilled arms. Each hair stands at attention, in some vain effort to pull warmth from the surrounding freeze— when he scrubs a hand along his arm, his fingers shake, and the gooseflesh remains stark and raised against his skin.

There was a sand-drenched point when the concept of warmth was all he could register— scorching wind scraping the cut on his cheek, the scarlet splatter of blood across split knuckles. And like the steady drain of life from a corpse, that warmth has drawn away, poison from a putrid wound— it leaves him compacting this cold, this loneliness, to mold it into four high walls around his heart; a fitting tribute to every grain of trust he's rightfully lost. Grian huffs the barest traces of a bitter laugh as his breath mists in the air. A better man would meet Scar at his base, extend his support, no matter how icily it might be met.

But Grian is selfish, and a coward, and will always be a coward— and so instead he sits, marrow freezing, with only the thin garrotte of paltry sunlight wrapping itself around his tender throat to keep him company.

And there he stays, motionless, for long enough that the chill makes a home in him— the glistening, pale yolk of the sun warns him of the passing time, a watery heat that counts down the seconds to minutes to hours until Scar finds him. Grian curls his wings around himself, a pitiful embrace, and waits.

Two hours later, the whistle of rocket-propelled elytra warn him of incoming company. Grian doesn't bother fleeing; he knows Scar, and Scar knows him, and with this last, missing puzzle piece finally slotting into place between them, he's under no illusions that staying hidden for long is feasible. Grian's eyes skitter to a crack on the far wall as clumsy footsteps scatter the snow outside, scrabbling for balance before the muted click of a cane joins them. Footsteps; another, louder click— the door's latch gives way, and a brief, blinding wave of light crashes over Grian's face, obscuring everything but the outline of a painfully familiar silhouette.

Grian has to look away. The door shuts, and for a small moment, neither of them so much as breathe.

Then Scar's sighs— one great, resigned gust. "Grian...."

He says nothing else. He doesn't have to. Grian draws his legs up to his chest in response anyway, heart a frozen pump bleeding ice into his very veins. What can he say? An apology? They're past apologies, now— if Scar wanted to disavow him forever, take the crumpled remains of their friendship and throw it at his feet, he'd be right to do so.

But Scar doesn't shout; neither does he leave. Instead, his cane taps forward, boots sliding into Grian's line of vision— and, with a grunt of effort, Scar eases himself down, until he's sitting at a safe diagonal from Grian's hunched form.

Neither of them say anything for a while.

Eventually, Grian licks his lips. They're chapped from cold, thin and ready to split. "Hi, Scar," he says softly. It comes out weak, thready— a barely-there declaration. Whatever Scar wants here... he can take it. It's the very least Grian can do at this point.

From the corner of his eye, he watches Scar settle, shifting his weight before he lands on something approximating comfort. He takes his time with it, blind— or uncaring— to the erratic snarl of Grian's pulse. His voice is just as quiet when he responds. "So... that's it, then, huh."

Grian glances over properly before he can stop himself, stomach churning; Scar's gaze has slipped to the cutout acting as a window, middle-distant and lost. Locked on something only he can see. Then Scar shakes himself, an abrupt jerk of his head and shoulders, and that glassy look turns to pin Grian directly to the wall behind him instead. "Just like that?"

Grian's fingers tighten around his knees. "Just like that," he agrees, hollow.

Scar mulls that over for a moment. His sigh is a wisp of white in front of them, crystallizing in the glacial atmosphere. "Jeez," he says finally, scrubbing one hand through the tangled bird's nest of his hair. He must have flown across half the server as soon as he... remembered, Grian realizes with a visceral pang. "I didn't... that's a lot of memories to just, um, gain back on a dime, huh?"

Grian darts a sidelong glance at him. Shifts his wings until their primaries lower, sweeping the ground around his feet like a feathered cat's cradle. "I wouldn't know," he says, a quirk of black humor dancing around the edges of his mouth. He swallows. "Since. Well...."

He trails off. Imagines, briefly, that he is a black hole— a quasar. A neutron star. Something so tight and compact it can string him out, erase him; a ball of grief and misery dense enough that it contains its own event horizon.

Scar hums a little shakily into the blooming silence. "Yeah. I guess that would complicate things, wouldn't it." A pause. "Does it always feel—?"

Grian shrugs. "Don’t know that either, Scar."

"Oh." Scar's still looking at him, the searchlight of his gaze burning pockmarks into Grian's skin. "Cool, okay... so...." He hesitates, teeth worrying his lower lip, before finally forging on: "So what now?"

Grian sucks in his own shuddery breath. "Whatever you want, Scar," he says, blank and dull. Every inch of him frozen stiff, awaiting the tipped scales of Scar’s judgement. "There's no going back, after this." The quicksilver flash of a grimace tugs his lips back to reveal sharp, white teeth. "Welcome to the club, I guess."

"It sure is a warm welcome," Scar says weakly. "Got— uh, got your complimentary balloons, and— and um, a whole gift basket of... of...."

He trails off too, the fragile ley lines of his humor peeling off, cracking at the seams. Impossibly, Grian curls around himself tighter.

An apology is nothing but wasted air now, but it dredges from his throat anyway. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Scar. I—" He breaks off, jaw tight. "I'm... I'm not sure what else to say, honestly. I never thought...."

I never thought you'd win. It's a cruel phrase that haunts the air between them, hanging like a smoky pall across their shoulders.

Scar says nothing against it; he only watches.

An uneasy prickle crawls up Grian's spine. "You don't—" He stops himself before he can finish that thought. "Are you— Scar, why are you here?"

"'Cause Pearl's not talking to me yet," Scar says quietly, prompt. "And— and because I remembered. Us."

Grian's throat closes around the word. "Us," he echoes, a rough rasp that ricochets against the deepslate walls surrounding them. The word tears through his ears, distorting with each pass. "Look, alright— I-I don't know if you got the memo, exactly, but— I'm not—"

He breaks off again, lungs jarring, hitching in his chest. Hot prickles sear behind his eyes, but nothing drops— he’s too tired for crying. "I've hurt you a lot, Scar," Grian says at last, lips numb around the words. "I'm not sure if there's much of an 'us' left, at this point."

"I know," Scar says. His eyes reflect the snow-glitter outside.

"And— I wouldn't blame you, if you left right now."

"I know," Scar says again, softer.

"I—” Grian stares at him, helpless. "Okay, then why are you here, Scar?" He gestures between them, an aimless motion that somehow encompasses the breadth of everything that's rotted at their foundations. "If you know all that, then what—?"

Scar regards him with enviable poise. His throat bobs as he speaks. "Maybe, I just— now that I remember— maybe I just want your company, Grian. Is that really so bad?"

Grian stares at him, at a loss. "I don't understand," he says finally, and it comes out plaintive even to his own ears. "I thought you'd be— angry. After everything I've done, after all that's happened.... What's your play here, Scar? If you want to yell at me, be my guest. I think by now I've more than earned it."

But Scar doesn't take the bait. Instead, he shuffles closer— just by an inch. A careful, cautious inch. "Y'know," he says, apropos of nothing, "and correct me if I'm wrong, here— but I seem to remember something about you wanting an alliance before all of... that crazy stuff happened. Is that right?"

Something in Grian's chest spasms. Whatever expression it spreads across his face must spur Scar on, because he scoots closer again, just enough to bring their calves together. The brief shock of warmth explodes through Grian's skin, worming its way underneath the subcutaneous tissue to flood his veins and gnaw at the lingering ice.

After a moment, Scar's lips tilt up— a subtle, fragile smile. "Is it too late to cash in on that?" he asks.

Grian's mind goes blank, white and buzzing, the thin hiss of a creeper drifting through it like smoke. Unfiltered shock threads through his voice. "You want t— what?"

Scar's smile tempers further around its edges, stretching into something softer, knowing. Rounded out. With solemn motions, he reaches into the pocket of his utterly ridiculous safety vest, and delicately pulls something out.

It's a sunflower.

In the frigid gloom of Tango's citadel, Grian gapes, the brilliant yellow petals incongruous with this grim, grit, darkened room. When he looks up, Scar's eyes are overbright, painfully earnest— brimming with a desperate urgency that tucks itself away in the depths of his pupils.

"Can we try again?" Scar says, soft as the new-fallen snow beyond this isolated cell of misery. "Start over? I— I kind of hurt you too, you know. And— for the record, being without you sucks. I don't—" He falters. "I know it's gonna be all weird, y’know, between us… but I don't want to do that anymore. I just... want you here, Grian. That's all. I just want you to stick around."

Grian sucks in a sharp, daggered breath. "You're joking," he breathes, but his heart leaps, tumbling from his throat and onto the floor for Scar to stomp at his leisure. "You're actually— this isn't funny."

"Hey, do you see me laughing?” Scar presses forward once more, a calculated attack, but still slow enough for Grian to track each move, to stop him if he cared enough to. Gently, Scar unwinds one of Grian's hands from his knees, cupping it between his own and brushing the lightest of kisses against his knuckles before turning over Grian’s palm and pressing the flower into it. Grian's fingers curl around it of their own accord, silky petals burning against his fingers.

"So." Scar smiles, tremulous, eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. "Can we still be friends?"

And Grian has always been a raw creature, a tangled wreck of his own selfish greed— he’s craved the honeyed umber of Scar's love since he first cradled it, tentatively, in his palms all that time ago. In the depths of his heart, there will always be that sandstone cliff, the crack of his bones against hard-packed sand, and wings too clipped to fly freely. There will always be that calloused fist around his heart, and beyond his own scrabbling fear, there will always, always be that fervent need to bring Scar close even as he pushes him away.

And where before, Scar had been playing blind, a game with no true rules… now, his eyes trap Grian against the wall, clear as glass— diamond sharp and just as steady. From a winning game, there is no turning back. There’s nothing left to lose here, except this porcelain trust, this shred of hope Scar offers him once more in the form of a flower.

Even after everything, all the memories flooding back— Scar is still here, holding Grian’s heart, and offering up his own in return.

Grian slowly presses it to his chest with trembling, vulnerable motions. "You're sure you want this."

"I'm sure I want you," Scar says, unwavering.

Grian breathes in. Breathes out. Inhale and exhale, both a heavy drag in his lungs. Already, the sun is beginning to strengthen, casting thick rays through the window and splaying them across Grian’s lap. The advent of gilded noon weaves around them, perfuming the air with light and heat.

"Okay," Grian says at last, and it drops from his lips with the weight of a confession; a relinquishment; a solemn vow. "Okay."

This time, when Scar reaches for his hand again, Grian meets him halfway, and the tangle of their fingers nets the sunflower in a promise neatly between them.

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sanjisboyfie · 5 months

Text

suguru's cherished mornings

-> geto suguru x male reader -> really short sorry idk i just had to publically show how much i love him.

-> still jjk universe but the one where this babe doesnt become anakin skywalker and defect away from everyone <3333 because i like to imagine this alternate universe a LOT

his black hair sprawled over the sheets, unfortunately getting painfully pulled by you when you're still sleeping. he winces as he feels it being pressuredly pushed down onto the mattress, giving a slight tug to his sensitive scalp and affectively waking him up.

he doesn't have the heart to even be remotely annoyed or angry with you. not when you look so peaceful sleeping. not when you're so effortlessly handsome it feels almost like his heart physically stops beating at your effortless charm.

he is just that in love with you.

the way you could make doing nothing but sleeping look like art was something special only to his eye, because he was the only one that had his eye on you. or, at least, that's what he tells himself to sleep better at night (he would very much rather not think about the probably high number of individuals that also find you attractive, it'll just put him in a sour mood).

he won't wake you up. instead, he props his head up onto his palm and continues gazing at you lovingly. sure, it can be a little bit creepy, but...okay, it is just creepy, but he just loves you so much. he might pick up the book that's resting on his bedside. he'll sit against the headboard as he reads, smiling softly when you so naturally shift your body to now be hugging his legs and resting on his lap.

one hand will hold the book up for him to read whilst the other traces mindless shapes on your back.

suguru loves touching you, whether it be in the smallest grazes of his fingers or those more heated moments, he loves, loves, loves touching you. it makes him happy - genuinly.

it's his own way of grounding himself, reminding himself that you're really there with him, next to him.

his large hands will run up and down your back until you eventually wake up. the book he's reading returns back to the bedside and he immediately focuses all of his attention on you.

"g'mornin', baby," he'll gently say, shuffling to hold you in his arms and kiss the top of your head, "did you sleep well?"

a tired hum is all he gets in response, but you can still feel him smiling against your skin. you return the question, your voice gravely as you speak.

then he's pressing his face into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, humming in delight as he gets to really take you in, through all of his senses.

he has you in his arms, obviously he can see you, and the last is that he is drowning in your natural scent.

he's obsessed, at this point.

"slept perfectly, as always," when i'm beside you - that's the last part of the sentence that suguru doesn't voice, for some reason.

his arms tighten around your waist. and now you're the one carding your fingers through his hair, to sooth him and relax that tight grip on your body. he doesn't know it, but it's practically suffocating.

gently, as you predicted, his hold does loosen up and allows you to sit in his lap now without him cutting off your circulation.

"should we stay in for a little while longer, babe? are you still tired?" he asks you, but doesn't get a response. all he feels is your body comfortiably slotting in with his and the arms you had around his neck loosely falling into your lap.

"silly boy," he chuckles, finding your habits endearing and amusing. you woke up, just to get comfortable in his lap and then fall back asleep. "i love you,"

there's a low hum that comes from your chest and he takes that answer with glee. he knows you would have said it back if you had the energy or that keen awareness.

when the two of you finally do have the energy to get out of bed, the morning finally starts in the bathroom. you're brushing your teeth standing next to each other, suguru sometimes childishly making funny faces at you in the mirror.

you almost choked on the toothpaste in your mouth when he fulls a particularly funny face. some other mornings you're sitting on the bathroom counter with suguru comfortably standing in between your open legs. his one hand will rest on one side of your lap with the other moving the toothbrush in his mouth. that hand near your lap will sometimes go underneath your shirt and start playing with the flesh of your hips.

it sometimes earns him a warning look, which he rolls his eyes at, but eventually does pull away to please you. the other times, though, when you let his fingers dance on your skin - those times he loves.

sometime in your morning routine, one of you will get a phone call from someone in jujutsu society to call you for a mission. usually, it's you since you're not a special grade like suguru. that means you're more high in demand for lesser grade curses.

he doesn't like that, though, so he often tags along with you wherever you have to go. doesn't like being away from you for too long. it makes him angsty. makes him worried.

he wants to be there for you if anything happens. or else he wouldn't be able to live peacefully.

but on the rare mornings, you don't get beckoned for work, the two of you are lounging in your small living room. two steaming cups of coffee are on the table as suguru watches the television with you scrolling on your phone.

your legs will most likely be thrown over his lap, a subtle way of letting him touch you. his hands will always find the skin of your ankle and calf to caress, going up and down your leg as if he was trying to lull you to sleep again.

he may or may not actually be trying to do that too, he wants you to stay here with him and only him for a while longer. and when you're sleeping, you're doing just that. it's his own little secret, though, as he'd never confess these underhanded methods he uses to monopolize your time and attention.

and its usually at times like that: the light pouring in through the opened window, the cups of steaming coffee in front of you two, that skin to skin contact, when suguru feels the most thankful for having you.

you make the mundane mornings something worth living through. he doesn't have to struggle and find reason to get out of bed, not when he has you there to hold his hand through the motions of it. you make his life exciting and he loves you dearly for all that you unknowingly do for him.

"hm, love you, [name]," he'll say out of nowhere.

it makes your head lift up from the couch cushion and away from your phone screen. he catches your e/c eyes with his own, smiling softly at your adorable face.

"love you too, suguru, always," you easily respond, sitting up to kiss his cheek and leaving a lingering scent of coffee on his skin.

but he doesn't wipe it away, he never would.

you collpase back onto the couch cushion into your comfortable position and suguru can't help but note how homey you look.

he loves when he gets to spend his mornings with you because those are the best parts of his day.

the mundane turned special in its own way, all thanks to you and the love he has for you in his heart.

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simplyreveries · 4 months

Note

Can I request Lilia, Malleus, and Ortho (platonic for Ortho obviously) x a reader who puts on an act of being a “perfect girl” and always happy but in reality is quite depressed (in the sense where it feels like where their feelings should be is just an empty slot.)? Not forcing you to do this of course ^^

lilia vanrouge

he would lightly jest and tease you all the time— as he can see right through you and your attitude. lilia is definitely someone who you can easily allow yourself to let loose and be more of yourself around him. he always pops up randomly and finds you, usually its surprising and he’ll be doing it some strange way hanging from a ceiling giving you some mischievous smile aha and ask “what's with the sorrowful mood, dear?” despite not showing it, he just has that sense.

you can deny it with a smile all you want but it's nearly impossible to hide anything from this guy. he only shakes his head with a smile at your persistence. thinks your attempts are silly but he wont keep on pushing, he usually prompts to doing things that will make you more comfortable to drop the whole act— he does it in a fun but loving way. he will make it his ultimate goal to make it feel like you can at least tell him anything!

and the time you finally decide to feel more okay sharing how you really feel, he’ll smile slightly even, in a more comforting and sweet way that you're opening up to him. he’ll consider himself quite special. “oh love, that wasn't so difficult was it…?” he’ll let you let out your feelings and emotions however long you want (he’ll tell you he’ll spend the whole night by your side comforting you if he has to and honestly you have to shut that down because he wasn't joking.)

malleus draconia

whenever you and him had your nightly chats outside ramshackle during the cold nights he had always caught some glimpse of you getting tired and stressed with your current situation and letting your act slip— seeing more of what the real you is. he’ll tilt his head slightly, looking down at you and listening quite intently. he does try to give his own advice to help alleviate your troubles.

he would never point out how different you seem when talking to him at night in the privacy of the two of you— in comparison to the bright and confident person you seem to portray yourself as to always be when he sees during the day when you're out and with the others like ace and deuce. he just silently watches and continues to listen and talk to you. he doesn't fully understand you at first, but he wants you to be happy.

malleus is someone you really can lean on… like literally. you could be sitting or standing next to him and feel like its hard and want to lean against him and he will always welcome you to. he loves it if anything, he’ll place a hand on the small of your back or the side of your head in a comforting manner and remind you “youre okay, dearest”

ortho shroud

may have accidentally exposed you once when he was “scanning” once and reading your mood and he asked you why you were so upset? he seemed genuinely concerned though and listed off something you can do to “improve your mood easily!” he's just trying to look out for you haha. he doesn't fully understand yet that you're trying to pretend to be someone you're not.

ortho is used to having to push his brother a little when it comes to being less of a recluse and trying to help him out— he’ll help you too, if you’ll let him. I feel like because he doesn't fully see it it'd take him actually catching you letting yourself slip when no one is around. since then, he would go out of his way to see you daily at school during the day and try to at least cheer you up.

he does feel like someone you genuinely can talk to despite not necessarily being human himself he can be as understanding as he can be with the knowledge he knows. and like i said he’s used to idia’s withdrawn and depressed behavior at times as well. you'll just always seem to have him find you somewhere and his energy makes it hard to really seem sad. he care's a lot about his friends!

#twst #disney twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #ortho shroud

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

Text

Don’t imagine MK1 men edition;

This came to me as I was listen to asmr last night. Honestly have no clue what this is. 🦦

Don’t imagine Tomas asking you out of the blue about how he smells, having just finished using a new shower jell that had you recently bought, and once you were within range Tomas then pecks your forehead with his soft lips before pulling away with flustered cheeks and a dopey smile as he sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

‘I couldn’t resist.’ He claims. ‘I saw others doing something similar with their spouses, and so I guess I wanted to do it too. Pretty silly huh?’

Don’t imagine Raiden listening intently as you spoke, giving you every ounce of his attention towards the topic of discussion, smiling softly as his unwavering gaze never once faltered from your face; whereas yours would find a hard time staying glued to his beautiful dark ones because of how deeply he looked at you, making you feel not only heard but seen too.

Even as you apologised for talking his ear off, Raiden would counter that your voice was something he could never grow tired of, for it was his favourite sound.

It was such a simple thing but it was enough for you to feel yourself becoming fidgety under his gaze. It didn’t seem to matter how many times Raiden did this because it would always feel like the first time, every time.

Don’t imagine Liu Kang trying to make up for lost time by spending whatever small amount of time he had with you to the fullest before duty inevitably calls for his attention once more.

He’s fully aware that you don’t hold it against him and that you knew what you were getting into upon agreeing to being with him, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he was in some way selfish with you, to which you were quick in disagreeing with by saying he was more selfless then selfish.

However that didn’t stop Liu Kang from helping you with your daily tasks as a way of expressing his gratitude for you, whether that be going down to the market, making the bed, preparing breakfast or something to drink. Liu Kang will do it without a second thought because who knows when he’ll have to leave you again.

So he savours every moment while he can but it doesn’t make the pain of having to separate from you anywhere near bearable.

‘No matter how far apart we may be physically, that does not mean my heart isn’t any less always with you.’

Don’t imagine Kuai Liang holding you tightly to him during the cold nights, his above average body warmth acting as your only form of comfort to combat the cold drafts that would somehow make their way into your room.

He’d thoroughly enjoyed the view of you trying to get as close as possible to leech off of his warmth, he couldn’t get enough with just how perfect you slotted against him and would often times have to pull you back into his embrace when he felt you shift the slightest bit away from him.

Kuai Liang loves keeping you close to his person, it makes him feel as though he’s protecting you with everything that he has, he loves it even more when he gets the chance to wake up before you and chooses to admire your every feature with adoration and love, engraving every inch of your face to memory; even your every imperfection that you claim to posses was engraved into his mind as to Kuai Liang, to love was to love imperfectly.

Not all love was perfect but yours certainly the most perfectly imperfect love there was.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han allowing you to take care of his injuries when he gets back from missions.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han‘s muscles tense up initially upon feeling your hands upon his injured bicep, soft hands working away at the wound in a way that wouldn’t cause him any more pain then he was already in.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han as his his sharp, observant eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, it’s not like he didn’t trust you, he was just trained to be vigilant whenever he put his care within the hands of others. He would even do it with the medics now and then but quickly came to accept that they knew what they were doing.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han slowly coming to terms with just how touch starved he was when he found himself at the mercy of your tender, caring touch, practically giving over all power to you in that situation to do whatever you saw fit. You could’ve hurt him even further for all he knew but instead you treated each of his wounds with a kind of gentleness he had never seen nor received before.

Whatever you do don’t imagine Bi-Han inspecting your work after you were done, giving a satisfied grunt, before he did an uncharacteristic thing by grabbing your hands within his own and kissing the back of them in gratitude.

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pedgito · 2 years

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Okay I'm obsessed with your writing and I need someone to take this because I can't get it out of my head; kissing eddie and him cupping reader's jaw and prying her mouth open to slip his tongue in and finding out the she likes to be manhandled and teasing/mocking her about it 😩💓

author’s note: face grabbing is such a weakness for me i love it so much. this is pretty short but i loved the idea.

cw: 18+ (just to be safe), teasing, hair pulling, face grabbing, slight dom!eddie, established relationship, if i missed anything lmk.

word count: 1k

There was an initial timidness with Eddie at first, a lack of your own experience in relationships mixed with his own, and treading the newness together with open arms. You’ve had silly crushes and meaningless relationships before, but things with Eddie felt different. More solid, more tangible. It felt real. Still, he did intimidate you from time to time.

Eddie loved fiercely and showed it just as such—though, he was a gentle lover, always taking his time with you. You weren’t his first, something he mentioned to you beforehand. Part of you was expecting it to rattle your nerves, but in an odd way it calmed you. He had some guidance, not much, but it made the fumbling less awkward and easier to laugh at—it was better than you could’ve ever asked for, but there was always an underlying sense of intensity with Eddie and you tried to bury that away.

In the back of your mind, you felt it too. You’ve never had the chance to really explore things—what you were interested in, what you liked. Eddie never tried to force anything either, it was all at your own pace. But, that didn’t stop him from teasing you every now and then when he got the inkling that maybe you weren’t as innocent as you were portraying yourself. You knew you weren’t—you’ve just never been that great at expressing you needs and wants.

He’s got you cornered against the edge of the kitchen counter, back pressed into the ridge of the cheap linoleum, slotting your mouth against him in a heated exchange—he was worked up, clearly, the reason unclear. But, you don’t question it, giving him the same amount of emotion back into the kiss, match his small grunts of pleasure, a playful fight emerging between you both. You shove him gently, earning a weak chuckle as he smiles, lips still pressed against yours.

“Ouch,” He replies jokingly, voice low and soft in the quiet hum of the trailer, electricity buzzing overhead, “what was that for?”

“You’re being mean,” You reply with a subtle pout, shoving his wandering fingers away from your side, “stop trying to tickle me.”

“You started it,” Eddie counters childishly, tipping your chin up to look at him, head tilted in amusement, “trying to cop a feel, yeah?”

Eddie draws his pointed gaze to the fingers curled over the edge of his belt, the hem of his jeans, just past the waistband of his underwear. You don’t move them, even after he tries to point it out—you doubled down, yanking at him until he’s flush with your front.

Eddie shakes his head in amusement, the finger that’s tucked under your chin turning into his full hand as he grips you face tightly, a soft grunt leaving your lips at the force of it, cheeks squished tight as he pulls your face toward his, tongue teasing against your top lip before dipping inside, tangling along with your own—it wasn’t the first time you’ve kissed him like this and it wouldn’t be the last—but the roughness, the manhandling—it was new.

And you couldn’t help but notice the faint throb in your cunt at the action, eyes lighting up in wonder before quickly falling shut, letting Eddie devour you as he pleased—your own tongue pressing back against his, showing him that two could play at that game.

But, Eddie loves to tease and he can’t help it—not with how often you tried to feign innocence when you were so far from it.

“Oh,” His voice tips up, eyebrow quirked in interest, “fuck—you like that don’t you?”

You shake your head in an effort to lie and Eddie can’t help but laugh, pulling back to cup your jaw tighter, pulling gently until you’re forced to stand on your tiptoes—he teased you so effortlessly, it was a fucking miracle you could even withstand it this long.

“Don’t lie to me.” He warns, eyes flicking down darkly, searching for the tell of a glint in your own. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip before shoving your head up, straining your neck as he leans down for more, bottom lip pulled between his teeth gently.

You gasp inwardly at that, unashamed and audible to Eddie’s ears, it was like a beautiful melody to him, his face lighting up in delight.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, the stretch only slightly uncomfortable, the pinch of your face a dull ache. Eddie slips a free hand under your thigh, urging your legs up and around him. You shake your head in response.

“You’re a little freak, aren’t you?” He teases, recalling back to the first words you ever spoke to him, teasing him with his branded nickname—it wasn’t something he was particularly fond of, but coming from you? He couldn’t be mad about it, not in the slightest.

You shake your head playfully, struggling against his still stern grip, the cold sting of his rings pressed against the line of your jaw.

“You don’t have to be shy with me, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, eyes softening slightly. “Tell me—really, do you like it?”

You nod impishly, smile tugging at his face in an instant—you’d ignited something you weren’t sure could be sniffed out at this point.

“Trust me—I like how things are now,” Eddie admits, “but I have no problem being a little rough, if that’s what you want?”

You were curious, the thrill of being manhandled so easily all too inciting. You wanted to experience everything with Eddie, if at all possible. The trust you had, it was undeniable.

“Please?” You ask sweetly—and who is Eddie to deny you. “Can we try it?”

Eddie chuckles deeply, the hand that’s holding your face is shooting away quickly, reaching around to cup the back of your, winding tightly into your hair until your movement is minimal, all directed by Eddie’s tight grip.

“I really hope you understand what you’re asking for,” Eddie reminds you carefully, “God—you’re a fucking dream.”

It’s a small slip-up in his act, the faint smile pulling at your face was impossible to ignore, and he fell for it every time.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic #5kfic

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kkami-writes · 6 months

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waiting for us — chapter forty one. sunset wc. 677 + 2 ss a/n: so while writing this i listened to waiting for us (both versions) and was like lowkey on the verge of sobbing. anyway enjoy :D

Later that night almost feels like a repeat of this morning, Jeongin driving you to the same little outlook that Chan had taken you to. This time though you actually follow him to the clearing. The sun has almost left the horizon, the same familiar orange glow slowly fading into black. Jeongin lays out a fuzzy blanket and motions for you to sit down. As you do, he quickly runs back to the car, rummaging in the back seat. He comes back with a small picnic basket, filled with a small bento dinner (courtesy of one Minho). Once the two of you had finished the food, the sun has already set, leaving the two of you basking in the light of the moon, stars shining bright in the sky. You’re on your back against the blanket, your heads lightly pressed against each other and hands linked together. Jeongin attempts to point out any constellations he knows but to be honest both of you are pretty clueless about astronomy. But it doesn’t matter, you feel so content and cozy just staring up at the vast sky, thinking about how big the universe is - wondering if there was anything more out there.

You end up completely curled up onto Jeongin, head resting against his chest. You can feel his heart beat echoing in your ear and you find it cute that’s it’s slightly fast just from having you so close. It feels like barely any time has passed but the two of you end up spending a few hours out there. Even though you still have a few hours left before your curfew, you’d rather not risk it for now. When you sit up, you stretch your arms out from having laid down for so long, bones popping lightly. Jeongin moves to clean up but you pull him back down to sit. He blinks at you confusingly, head tilting cutely.

“Jeongin,” He nods his head, encouraging you to continue. “Thank you,”

“Huh? For what?”

“For finding me. For not giving up on me even when I tried to push you away. You could have given up on me, seeing that I wasn’t worth it. But you stayed. You fought for me. I really can’t thank you enough,”

His smile turns bright, a fondness swimming in his dark eyes. Jeongin brings a hand to cup at your jaw, brushing back some of your hair. Your eyes flutter shut for a second, relishing in his small touch.

“Silly girl. We would never give up on you, even if you had decided you had wanted to be platonic. You have and will always be so important to us. Now that you’re with us, we could never let you go. You are ours. Forever. Until the end of time,” Jeongin swipes his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the single tear that falls from your face.

“Jeongin. I love you,” His eyes widen and get watery, looking like he might cry himself.

“God. Y/N. I love you so fucking much,” His words are almost a whisper, like a secret just between the two of you. Jeongin pulls your face closer to his so he can press his lips softly against yours. It’s sweet, soft kisses shared between the two of you, lips slotted perfectly together. His tongue is tentative when it swipes across your lower tier, testing the waters with how far you’re willing to go.

But when you part your lips for his tongue, it feels like he’s lost all control. Jeongin’s hand comes to cup the back of your head, leaning you back down against the blanket, his other hand holding himself up to hover over you. He’s practically devouring you, tongue licking into your mouth and prodding your own wet muscle.

Jeongin finds that he absolutely loves the way your lips look after he pulls away, slightly swollen and slick. You’re staring up at him with literal sparkles in your eyes and Jeongin thinks that you were quite literally everything and more than they could have ever hoped for.

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feralforfrank · 1 year

Text

stars around my scars.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER

cw none, not really! just small scars on simon's arm. super-duper fluffy thing. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER

a/n i think simon's tattoos are on his left side anyway, so it doesn't really work to have reader on his left side, but oh well :)

masterlist | taglist

the door grunted as ghost pushed it open for him and the rest of the unit to enter. It was too fucking early for this shit. too. fucking. early.

he'd been sound asleep in his bed with you, head tucked in the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped tightly around you. ghost doesn't remember his dream, but it was a bloody good one, and the sound of johnny's voice shouting for him to get up had ruined it.

you'd whined for about a minute after he'd gotten out of bed, not fully coming to your senses until you were standing, and simon was putting a sweatshirt over your head to shield you from the cold seeping through the entire base.

the briefing room was cold, as expected, but ghost shuddered anyway. it was still dark outside, meaning no sun was warming up the usually empty space. he was glad the balaclava was shielding his face from the nippy atmosphere.

he looked around the room as he took a seat. soap was barely awake, yawning every five seconds. gaz sat at his designated seat next to price's chair—his head slotted in the bend of his elbow. simon's head instinctively turned to his left side, where you usually sat, to find you braiding your hair out of your face.

he sighed. he'd give anything to stay in bed with you for a little while longer.

the slam of a folder interrupted ghost's trance, and he turned to look at the source of such loud noise. the captain was here. he sipped his coffee and sat down, elbowing gaz awake.

the debriefing started, and within minutes, simon was trying to keep himself upright and awake. the sudden feeling of cold fingers meeting his warm skin alarmed him, and he turned to look at you—the source of the goosebumps on his skin.

your thumb was mindlessly tracing small scars on the skin of his palm, which rested on top of his thigh. you'd done that a million times before and could trace the shapes by heart, but simon's goosebumps couldn't help but spread across his body. maybe it was the cold emitting from your nimble fingers, or maybe it was your electrifying touch that forced a shudder down his spine. Whatever it was, he didn't want you to stop.

your actions seemed to keep you both awake, at least for a while. ghost was as rigid as a pencil and awake as ever, trying his hardest to listen to price. anyone close to him could spot the raised hair on his arms. but you got bored of the repeated motions quite quickly. he almost whined at the loss of touch but decided against it when you grabbed his hand tighter and pulled it closer to you.

a foreign touch almost made him flinch. he looked down at you again and found you sketching...stars around an older blemish above his middle finger. simon thought his heart would melt right there and then.

you continued your ministrations, drawing a star around every small spot you found on his hand, then moved upwards to his wrist, sometimes even connecting the straight-lined scars to make a bigger one.

simon smiled—he couldn't help it—a soft smile he usually reserved for you when not many people were around. it's like you knew he was staring at you, for your head snapped up, and you gave him a giddy smile in return.

little did you know how much he loved you. you, with your amazing drawing skills, your silly, happy smiles, your love for sleeping in—even if you had work to do—your ability to listen, despite looking elsewhere. you who had managed to warm his cold heart even when everyone else thought it'd be impossible.

he squeezed the hand that held his fingers firmly, the overwhelming feeling of love momentarily clouding his senses. i love you, is what it meant. you squeezed right back, and he released a relieved breath he didn't even know he had been holding.

he turned his attention to price, completely ignoring soap's growing smirk from across the table.

your hand never separated from his.

[ taglist: @master-amidala @thaprilks @333-kay @-miiss-orihara- @leed-bbg @dayevans13 @abigatorchomp @ashersplaceofwriting @queencousland101 @emi11ie @eatingtheworldoffanfiction ]

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare ii #cod mwii #simon riley fluff #established relationship #fluff #frank writes

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thevillainswhore · 10 months

Text

Tension

Pairing: Massage Therapist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You’re devastated when your usual massage therapist becomes unavailable at the last minute, but an unexpected trainee is more than happy to handle you.

Warnings: Smut (fing-ering fem receiving, mentions of a-nal play, m-asturbation male receiving)

A/N: Unbeta’d, dividers by saradika and firefly-graphics - also a massive thank you to my babe @rookthorne for helping me edit my header, loves you bitch 💗

Listen, just please use your imaginations with the oil, let’s pretend it’s safe and can be used for… things 👀 okay thank you, enjoy x

Resting your head against the back of the waiting room leather chair, you await your appointment at your regular spa. Headache already starting to disappear from the eucalyptus aroma of incense seaping into your skin.

You needed this. The long work week draining you of all common sense to not hit your coworkers over their heads every two seconds, due to their incompetence. Now, it has finally come to a close, and you could take the opportunity to indulge in your guilty pleasure.

This was the only way you could continue to keep your head above water. A monthly treat to yourself of a two hour long full body massage - undisturbed peace and soft hands kneading the stress out of your body until it felt like you were floating.

And it was literally heaven on earth to let go of the strong willed nature that came with your work, placing your care into the hands of someone else. Giving up your responsibilities of taking charge and allowing another to take care of you for a little while.

It felt so good to let go. Forgetting all of your worries that seemed silly in the midst of the background waterfall noises that lulled you into calmness.

Jesus, you weren’t even on the massage table yet and you already felt so much lighter.

With that thought, the lovely receptionist, you’ve become familiar with from your numerous visits, walks out from the back room and addresses you with an apologetic expression.

“Miss, I’m so terribly sorry about this, but an unexpected personal emergency has come up for your regular therapist and she’s had to leave before your treatment today.”

Your face drops. The excited anticipation bubbling inside you from at last being able to relax, dying out instantly at her words.

Of course it wasn’t your therapist’s fault that you would miss out on the only pass time that gets you through the month. Of course, it wasn’t her fault you’d probably go home and scream into your pillow. Yet, you couldn’t help your internal frustration at the disappointing outcome.

It didn’t help that you hadn't had an orgasm for god knows how long too. The band inside was you on the verge of snapping. A massage being the only way to soothe the built up tension over the month and you feared you would have a mental breakdown from the added stress.

“Listen, I wouldn’t normally suggest this,” she goes on to explain as you lift your head with intrigue, “but we have a new massage therapist in training, free for your time slot. His clientele base is still quite small. However, he’s received great reviews and he’s happy to cover your treatment today - if that’s something you would consider. Would you like to meet him before coming to a decision?”

Fuck it. It’s either this or try to relieve yourself with your shitty vibrator at home that’ll probably die out before you can finish anyway. And you really didn’t want to make the dent in your bedroom wall any bigger from the other times you’d thrown the useless thing at it.

So, what harm could it do?

After agreeing to an introduction with the trainee, telling yourself you should at least see if you feel comfortable enough with him, you stand outside the private massage room, waiting to be invited in.

Eventually hearing a breathy shout of “Come in!”, the receptionist opens the door and allows you to step through, the seemingly young man’s back turned towards you as he fiddles with last minute preparations for your massage.

“Just tryna get everythin’ ready for ya, won’ be a minute.”

After finishing up and a final appraisal to the set up, the trainee spins on his fit, claps his hands together and looks at you directly, “Sorry ‘bout that, darlin’! The name's James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky, sweetheart, I’ll be lookin’ after’ya today.”

Holy shit, where the hell did they find this one?

Bucky’s mid length chocolate hair ran rogue with an errand piece falling into his eyes. It took all of your strength to not reach out and tuck it behind his ear, or maybe even scratch your nails through his hair just to grip it and tug to see if he whimpers.

Woah, settle down girl.

A tight white womens beater, stretched across his pecs, showcased his bulging arms and the pure muscle you couldn’t tear your eyes from. You were pretty sure you were drooling, but you couldn’t give a single fuck right now.

If you had to guess, you would have pinned him as a farmhand or a ranch owner from down south before he became a trainee massage therapist - it definitely would have explained his devilishly built form and his southern twang that has your knees weak.

That’s not the only reason I want my legs to be shaking.

It most definitely isn’t difficult to imagine Bucky with a cowboy hat sitting on his head, thick thighs clenching to keep himself steady riding a horse. Or how easy it is to picture him throwing stacks of hay over his shoulders, dirt covering his sweat glistened body as his pure strength gives him no trouble carrying them to the stables.

You don't even realise you still haven’t spoken a word, stood dumbstruck with your mouth gaping open and lost in your unholy thoughts about the living wet dream about to rub you up, completely forgetting another person was in the room with you.

The receptionist speaks up, “Are you comfortable with James stepping in-“

“Yes!”. Your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment from how quickly you answered, clearing your throat and steeling yourself not to continue making an idiot of yourself. “Um- yes of course, yes… not a problem at all.”

You miss Bucky’s sly little smirk as you make the effort to keep your gaze towards the floor, his tongue peaking out and wetting his lips as he gives you a once over.

Things were about to get interesting.

“So sweetheart, I’m gonna step out while you get changed, take all clothin’ off, start off with lyin’ on’ya stomach for me and cover y’lower half with a towel - I’m sure y’know the drill by now.”

Reverting your attention back onto him, your pulse quickens at his nonchalant conversing of stripping naked. Okay, it was standard procedure for the therapist to go over protocol, but that talk from him is sinfully criminal.

Walking up to the door, Bucky suddenly turns around, “Oh and don’t forget to take off the underwear too, darlin’, be back in a tick.” Bucky winks and slaps the doorframe, finally leaving the room.

Fuck my life.

You have a couple of minutes to compose yourself before Bucky comes back. Changing out of your clothes was almost a relief - sweat clinging to your skin from meeting him and that freaking accent that drove your mind wild. Your panties seemed to agree too, considering the sticky mess that clung to your folds as you pulled them down your legs.

As you now lay face down on the table, folded towel covering your ass - back and legs on display - you anxiously wait for Bucky’s arrival, muscles subtly twitching from either your stress or the need to get fucked.

Probably both.

The door opens to your only knowledge of hearing, sight only focused on the floor from the carved head cushion allowing your face to sit through it. Goosebumps raise on your arms as you listen to the door then quietly close and footsteps get closer towards your direction.

You hold your breath when you see boots stop into your peripheral and legs bend to show a pair of thick thighs straining against the denim of his jeans.

Yep, definitely Bucky.

Lifting your head slightly to look at his face when he doesn’t speak, you choke on your spit when you find him shirtless, stomach marveled with so many abs. You would count, but you’re a little afraid you’ve lost brain cells from his presence alone. And all hope is gone when you see his jeans strung low on his waist - ‘v’ line tantalising your dignity as you wonder how morally wrong it could be to drop to your knees and lick it.

You’re not proud to say you don’t take anything he says in as Bucky begins going through what’s to be expected for your treatment. Ever the professional as you think he probably tells you what to do should you like any adjustments made with his pressure or technique. Luckily, you seem to have gotten away with it as he stands and picks up some oil, tilting your head back down to do some breathing exercises.

“Jus’ the massage today then, sweets? Y’know I wouldn’t mind throwin’ a free facial in there for y’too with the trouble y’had.”

What the fuck?

Your brain short circuits. Surely he must hear what he’s saying out loud… right?

Inwardly shaking your head, you put it down to the lack of intimacy you had gotten recently, mind conjuring illicit fantasies and turning everything he says into something dirty.

You stutter to reply, “N-no, that’s o-okay, just the massage i-is fine.”

The small smile on Bucky’s face is so innocent, like he hasn’t just rebooted your entire being. “Alrightie then darlin’, lemme get started then.”

Guess them breathing exercises went to shit.

Bucky begins slicking his hands up with the massage oil, lathering between his fingers and ensuring all crevices are glistening - especially his veins that bulge all the way up his forearm.

“I’m warnin’ y’though, I’m quite good with my hands.”

You don’t have time to stop yourself blurting the next automatic thought in your head out into the open.

“I bet you are.”

If you could slap yourself you would. Cringing in despair at your ability to make yourself look stupid. You expect things to turn awkward, for Bucky to show unease and even stop the session altogether.

To your surprise, you feel a whisper of a breath caress your neck as he mumbles the very thing to probably cause your death.

“Oh, you have no idea, darlin’.”

The start of the massage truly had your nerves settling down and calming you enough to actually enjoy yourself. Yeah, you still struggled with keeping your cool with Bucky’s huge hands caressing you with his sensual touch, but you managed to stop your squirming and relax.

Bucky however, couldn’t keep a straight head for the life of him. Softness of your skin and the feel of your curves literally in the palms of his hands had his cock threatening to bust the zipper of his jeans.

Timid little thing you were, so skittish when you saw him and he just had to have a little fun with you. That soon backfired on him the second he got a hold of you. Fingers itching to just smooth down your luscious body and open you up like his own personal present.

Unfortunately, he had to make do with rubbing his erection against the edge of the massage table to give him some relief. You were just so sexy - a stunning face and an amazing figure - never mind how fucking adorably shy you were.

Just my type and I’ll be damned if I don’t get a piece’a ya, sweetheart.

Was it wrong for him to be thinking of a client this way? Of course. Would Bucky most definitely get fired before he’s even completed his training should anyone find out? No doubt about it. Was that going to change his mind over what he was about to do next?

Absolutely fucking not.

You had succeeded in keeping your moans and whimpers locked away when Bucky reached particularly sensitive spots on your back. No, not the ones that felt a little too tender, the places his touch elicited your growing desire - as much as you tried to hide it, he could still hear your little intakes of breaths.

But that’s not what I’m after sweetie, I wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.

So, he comes up with a plan.

“Oh darlin’, I can feel all those knots in y’upper back, been workin’ so hard ain’t ya, sweets?”

Fuck, you really had. And Bucky’s praise paired with his seductive voice makes you feel all gooey with neediness, trying to stop yourself sinking into your fuzzy headspace as you reply back. “Y-yeah, I mean I guess so.”

“How ‘bout we try somethin’ different, hm?” Bucky begins to explain, “Reckon if we got y’to bend them legs into a kneelin’ position then it’d feel so much better.”

The sincerity of his voice has you rethinking your suspicions towards how exposed you might be. You still had the towel to cover anything private and while your old therapist never suggested anything like this, Bucky may have learned something new and wanted to try it out.

So you begin to do as he’s asked. “Um, l-like this?”

“Tha’s it, arch that back for me, sweetie.” Again, you follow his instructions all too easily. “Little more for me- there ya go, jus’ like that.”

Bucky can’t help the groan that slips out as he observes the thin towel curve over the shape of your ass. You’re not much higher from the first position you were in, but the subtle lift in your legs, and bowed back allows a perfect image for him.

And a perfect chance.

“Gonna work on y’legs now, sweetheart, lemme know if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ good.”

You don’t have a chance to reply as Bucky begins to knead the muscles in your legs. An unrestrained moan escaping from your lips as he uses his thumbs to work the tension out. You feel as though you've been transported to another world, eyes rolling to the back of your head in glorious pleasure.

Meanwhile, Bucky is having the time of his life watching the jiggle of your ass every time he switches up the motion of his strokes. You don’t seem to notice the towel slowly shifting upwards, revealing the bottom of your ass cheeks to him.

He just needs your legs to spread that tiny bit more so he can see your pretty little pussy.

“That feelin’ good for ya, darlin’?”

Apparently, you let go of all inhibitions from the satisfaction Bucky’s hands bring you, all but unbashfully moaning, “Mhmm, god yes Bucky, feels so fuckin’ good.”

That’s what I love to hear.

“Amazin’. Doin’ so great for me sweetheart, jus’ let ya’self relax and Bucky will take care a ya.”

The dip of your back deepens as you unknowingly start to bring your legs more under you, ass canting up like a cat as Bucky’s thumbs rub close to the crevice under your ass cheeks.

He’s so dangerously close to his prize, he can literally see the wetness that’s spilled from your cunt, coating your inner thighs.

Fuck it.

Bracing for the worst, Bucky’s thumb runs over your pussy lips and your breath hitches as the bolt of electricity that shoots through your body. Now fully aware of his intentions, you expect yourself to feel a slither of outrage, some kind of anger at him for letting it go this far and yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to stop him.

Bucky pauses his thumbs in question, waiting to back off as soon as you deny him and allowing you the freedom of consent.

But, you want this.

The fact he stops his ministrations within an inch of your cunt has you unable to hold back your loud whine, ass pushing back into his hold to try and get him to carry on.

As much as Bucky loves your enthusiasm and he’s almost certain you want this as much as he does, he needs to hear your verbal consent in order for him to proceed. “Ah ah, sweet girl, need to know y’want this, need to hear y’say it.”

With great difficulty, fog clouding your head, you manage to mumble a whimper of agreement. “Fuck, y-yes pleaseee Bucky, give it to me.”

And that’s all the confirmation he needs.

Bucky places both thumbs on each cheek and spreads them apart to reveal your pretty, slick pussy, hole pulsing, almost begging to be filled.

You whimper as you feel his long pointer finger slide through the mess you’ve made and teasingly give your throbbing clit a little tap for good measure.

The little shit even has the audacity to chuckle at your desperation.

“Look at ya darlin’, such a fuckin’ good girl for me, ya think we can get y’a little more wet, hm?”.

He laughs at your stutter, no worries for him though, he can’t wait to make sure he leaves your head empty enough for not one single thought to cross your mind.

Bucky gently slaps your leg and bends over you to whisper in your ear, “turn around, pretty girl.”

The last defence of the towel covering your modesty falls from your body as you quickly move to lie on your back, too fucked out to even notice the breeze that hardens your nipples and exposes your tits to Bucky’s gaze.

He could’ve just picked you up and fucked you against the wall right then and there. But Bucky’s a patient man, and he’s not about to put his pleasure before yours. He wants this to last.

Straddling the table as he combs his wild hair back, Bucky grabs your thighs over his forearms with feral need to drag you down towards him, placing your legs over each of his and separating them. This was his personal slice of heaven.

The view of your cunt and the bounce of your tits has him gripping his cock over his jeans, shaky breaths rattling his chest over how turned on he is from the sight - you really were a goddess, a doll for him to play with until you couldn’t walk.

Releasing himself and grabbing the bottle of oil from the table next to him, Bucky looks directly into your eyes, his own hooded as he unscrews the lid. Your high pitched moans and whimpers have his nerves set alight and he can’t wait to see your face as you cum from his fingers alone.

“Buck-Bucky, what a-are you d-doing?”. It takes everything in you to lift yourself on to your elbows, looking down to see him hovering the bottle over your pussy.

“Y’trust me, sweet girl?”. Fuck, with that voice alone you’d put your whole faith in him.

You gently nod as you never take your eyes away from his, that wicked smirk adorning his face as his eyes light up from your answer.

“Good.”

That’s the last thing you hear before you feel the cold splash of oil drip against your pussy and your shocked moan fills the room as your arms give out.

The liquid rolls down your folds, down to your puckered hole and the thought quickly surpasses Bucky of what your reaction would be if he suggested a little anal play.

First things first, Barnes.

Right.

After emptying the remainder of the oil over you, Bucky tosses the bottle onto the floor, and begins to run his fingers over your cunt, shining in all its pleasurable glory. Trailing down to your hole, Bucky begins to press one finger inside you, stopping at the first knuckle only to take it back out and repeat his torturous teasing.

You can’t help your squirming - hands fisted tight in your hair as your toes curl. The relief of a second finger added to the first only lasts for a minute as again, he torments you by going no further than his first knuckles. All you want is for him to slide his fingers as deep as they can go, but Bucky is far too mesmerised with the glisten of his fingers and the feel of your fluttering little pussy.

“W-want more, baby, p-please Bucky, need more.”

The term of endearment as his feasted eyes snap up to look at you, has his cock twitching - you looked so fucking beautiful like this for him and the pleading in your features has him going soft on you.

Always was a sucker for pretty girls begging.

“Need more, sweetheart? Alright pretty girl, y’can have some more.”

You soon figure how Bucky was holding out on you as he fucks you with his two fingers at a quickened pace, the squelch of mixed juices from your cunt loud to your ears and you’d be embarrassed if Bucky didn’t enjoy it.

And he really did, the sound of your arousal leaking out of you because of him leaves him feeling untamed, beastly, as his veins bulge from his arms. His cock is aching, hard from how much he gets off on your pleasure - he knows he can make it better for you, though. He won’t be happy until you lose your voice because of him.

Slowing down, his deep rumble has the knot in your stomach tightening even more, “Think y’can handle another, sweetie? ‘Cause I think y’can, think this wet pussy needs to be filled up till she can’t take no more.”

With that, Bucky eases a third finger along with his other, the stretch just right to have you wailing out with consistent cries of his name.

Curling his fingers against your upper wall, Bucky searches for that spongey rough patch - he wants you to see stars and he isn’t giving up till you do.

“Hold on a sec sweets, lemme just-, find… oh, there it is.”

All of a sudden your back shoots off the table and your scream of pleasure drowns out the sounds of waterfalls in the background.

“Fuck!”

“Tha’s right darlin’, lemme hear y’scream for me.”

You grip his wrist to keep his hand fucking you, his perfect rhythm too good for you to speak something tangible. But you can’t have him changing anything, you need him to keep everything the same, so you can finish.

Bucky still finds it so fucking hot, sweat from exertion gathering on his neck and dripping down his chest. He couldn’t care less, he just wants to see you cum.

He physically has to use his free arm to force your legs open, it won’t do that you’re trying so desperately to close your legs around him. No. He wants to see you tremble in his hold. He’s fucking craving it.

“C’mon baby, know y’so close sweet girl.”

You are so fucking close, so near to that orgasm you haven’t had in so long - you’ve turned dumb, world blurring around you, only important thing in your mind getting to finish.

And you’re done for as soon as Bucky places his thumb on your swollen clit and circles.

“BUCKY!”

He watches as your shrieks fall from your mouth. Tremors rack through your body, legs finally able to close around his hand as tears from the intensity roll down your temples. You’re in your element and he’s never seen sexier in his entire life.

White cream drips from your pussy as Bucky slowly takes his fingers out, not able to help himself as he plays with your folds and starts to fuck your cum back into you.

Soon enough, you begin to calm down, heavy breathing with your occasional whine of overstimulation from his motions blessing his ears.

He leans down to pepper kisses over your heaving stomach and underneath your breasts, other hand stroking over your heated skin and up to your cheek.

“Easy girl, that’s it, deep breaths.”

Bucky continues to talk you down and strokes your sweaty hair back from your face, your eyes closed and mouth open, panting.

He stops his ministrations altogether, but keeps his fingers inside you, his body connected over yours to settle some of his weight on you and bring you back down to earth.

Giving you a couple of minutes to come down from your fluffy clouds, Bucky analyses all your signals to make sure you’re okay and that you feel safe - and once he completes all his internal checks, he flashes you a dazzling smile.

“So… this may be a bit forward a’me, but what d’ya say I take y’out on a date tomorrow night?”

You chuckle breathlessly at his little joke - as if he didn’t already have his fingers still in your cunt. “Only if you answer my question.” you counter back.

“Sure thing, lil’ darlin’.”

Trying to keep your expression aloof you ask, “What did you do before you started training to be a massage therapist?”

He looks like a little confused puppy as he cocks his head and frowns, but answers anyway with a cheeky squint of his eyes.

“I used to work on my mama’s ranch back home, sweetheart.”

Your head rolls back onto your shoulders as Bucky begins picking up the steady pace of his fingers again, fucked out smile on your face in rememberance to your guesses from earlier.

Fucking knew it.

He may not have the slightest clue what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t have to know as long as he’s the one who’s making you smile like that.

And, he already can’t wait for your next meeting as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his zipper to bring his dick out and start fucking his fist while he enjoys the sight of his other hand fucking your cunt.

“Now, we got another hour to make sure ya get what y’paid for darlin’, so hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”

A/N: who doesn’t love a happy ending, right? 😈

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slxsherr · 1 year

Text

Tonight I Feel Like More

read part I here and part III here

pairing: charlie walker x bimbo!fem!reader

summary: you attend your first ever stab-a-thon, and finally make it through all of the movies, so charlie gives you a reward under the guise of keeping you warm.

wc: 2014

warnings: fem!reader, cursing/swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of oral sex (m! receiving), public sex, unprotected sex (p in v), mentions of crying, creampie

a/n: reader is described as being taller than charlie while wearing heels i'm sorry if you're short just pretend you're wearing ridiculously high heels 😭

Since your first movie night with Charlie, it’s been his mission to finish all of the Stab movies with you. Which wouldn’t be so hard if you could get past Stab 5, but the whole time travel plot confuses you, which means you get bored, and Charlie has come to realize that your boredom manifests in a rather, promiscuous way.

The first time you only lasted twenty minutes before you were pulling down his pants and busying yourself with his cock, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks until you were swallowing his load. After that, the last thing on either of your minds’ was the movie.

He tries again and again, but somehow, someway, you get lost. He thinks he should feel lucky, having a girlfriend as frisky as you, and for the most part he does. But he’s worried, with Stab-A-Thon coming up he knows you’d want to go and support him at his last film festival.

What worries him is that at some point throughout the night you’re gonna get bored, and then he’ll have to find a secluded area of of wherever they decide to throw the party to fuck you silly. A problem he never thought he’d have, but he keeps it in mind while discussing venue options with Robbie.

Eventually they settle on an abandoned farm, far enough to not be bothered by adults, but not too far to the point where the drive is a hassle. They scope out the farmhouse, making sure it’s not too rundown for a gathering of drunk teens. It’s their last year of high school, last year running Cinema Club, last time throwing Stab-A-Thon, and Charlie and Robbie want to go all out.

On the day of, a few more involved club members help Charlie and Robbie set up for Stab-A-Thon, handling decorations and seating while Charlie and Robbie focus on the audio and visual. Before people start arriving, Charlie adds some yellow police tape to the stairs leading up to the hayloft, spewing bullshit about not wanting a drunk idiot to fall when someone asks, not wanting to say the real reason.

As soon as the sun falls over the horizon cars start to pull up, teenagers filing in with drinks, talking over the loud music as they wait for the movies to start. You arrive with Kirby and her friends, visibly annoyed by Jill and Trevor fighting behind you, most likely having had to listen to them argue the whole ride over.

You find Charlie before he spots you, quickly making your way to him through throngs of people, desperate to get away from relationship drama, not wanting it to rub off on you and Charlie. The closer you get to him, the easier it is for him to notice you. You’re dolled up more than usual, pretty makeup and hair he’s gonna feel guilty about ruining later, a short dress barely reaching past your ass, and matching heels that have you standing taller than him.

Most guys would probably be upset by that, but he can’t find it in himself to care when you slot yourself at his side, leaning in to give him a kiss. Your lipgloss is sweet, strawberry or cherry if he had to guess, a thin layer sticking to his own lips when you pull away. Your smile is even sweeter, eyes shining when they meet his, and he’s reminded of the phrase ‘the lights are on but no one’s home’, a perfect description of what goes on in your head.

He can tell you planned your outfit for fashion over function, which is the case for most of your outfits. If you’re not whining in his ear to sneak off he’s sure you’ll be complaining about being cold. But he lets those thoughts fade, focusing instead on your warmth at his side, offering you a sip of his drink.

“What time do the movies start?” You ask, face scrunched up at the bitter taste of whatever alcohol was poured into the jungle juice.

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Charlie answers, pulling his hand out of his pocket to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

“Actually, we should probably get up there and do our kickoff,” Robbie says, seeing the seats mostly filled in.

“Be right back,” Charlie whispers to you, following Robbie to the projector screen.

Their introduction is short and sweet, poking fun at the franchise’s clichés, while also promoting underage drinking. The crowd cheers, ready for the movies to start, quoting the iconic opening scene as Charlie and Robbie make their way to the back of the crowd to the projectors. You’re sitting on some bales of hay set up for seating, thin blankets keeping the itchy straw from irritating your skin, confusion etched in your features when you see Charlie walk out of the room instead of joining you.

Before you can follow him, Robbie takes a seat next to you, going into a rant about the movie that you only half listen to, convinced Charlie has given you the same rant during one of your private movie nights. You don’t have a chance to interrupt him and ask about Charlie though, jerking away when you feel an arm around your shoulder.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Charlie laughs at your reaction, sitting down next to you. “Got you a drink,” he says, offering you a red cup.

“Thank you,” you say, beaming at him, leaning in for another kiss.

“Uh-uh, watch the movie,” he says, refocusing your attention to the screen.

You roll your eyes, but do as he says, watching the movie silently. The two of you sip on your drinks, moving closer together as more people join you on the bales of hay. By the time the second movie starts, you’re forced into Charlie’s lap after getting up for refills and losing your spot. Not that you mind, sat sideways on his lap and tucked into his chest, you’re surprisingly able to focus on the movies for once.

He entertains you, imitating the killer’s voice and repeating the dialogue for only you to hear, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers the lines. Your giggles are muffled by his chest, his playfulness and the steady beat of his heart comforting you through the jumpscares and violence that you’re still getting used to.

The two of you allow yourself to relax into one another, comfortably watching each movie as the crowd slowly dwindles. You’ve traded your jungle juice for soda, caffeine and sugar slowly sobering any tipsiness as dawn approaches, eyes blinking slowly as you both fight off sleep. You’re so close, the closest you’ve ever been to finishing all seven Stab movies, and he can’t help but bounce his leg nervously, your whole body shaking from the force of his movement.

“Stop that,” you mumble, and he does, but it’s not long before his leg is shaking again. “I thought you’ve seen all of these before, shouldn’t I be the nervous one?” You tease him when he still doesn’t stop.

“Shh, pay attention,” he scolds you, because it’s the final act of the last movie, and you’ve come so far.

You don’t put up a fight, attention easily grabbed as the kill scenes get messier and the main cast dies off one by one. Charlie’s buzzing with excitement during the last few minutes of the movie, watching for your reaction. Your reaction is dampened by your exhaustion, but even the slightest tell of shock has his lips stretching into a smile, holding you closer as the credits begin to roll.

“Wow,” is all you say, stretching out in his arms.

“Well, how do you feel?” He asks you, leaning over you as you lay back.

“Scared, tired, a little cold,” you answer, his hair tickling your skin as his face nears yours.

“Hm, well let’s go to bed then,” he says, sitting up and pulling you up with him.

You follow him to a set of taped off stairs, a thin blanket dragging on the straw covered floor behind him. He holds your hand all the way up the stairs, not wanting you to trip in your heels, spreading the blanket out over the loose stack of hay. The two of you fall onto your makeshift bed for the night, or early morning, laying on your sides as he pulls your back to his chest.

“How about now?” He asks, arms holding you close to him.

“Less scared, less tired, more cold,” you answer, wishing you had also grabbed a blanket.

“Let me warm you up then,” Charlie says, an impish smile on his face as one of his hands moves between your thighs, tickling your skin as his touch trails up.

“Really? Right now?” You ask, and he can’t tell if you’re excited or not, words slurring from exhaustion.

“Only if you want me to,” he answers, teasing your inner thighs, pushing the hem of your dress up.

“Of course I want you to,” you say, his advances reassured as you open your legs for him.

Since your first night together, both of you have learned a lot about each other’s sexual preferences. Although Charlie doesn’t have much experience, he found that it doesn’t take much to turn you on. You’re rather needy, and despite being the one guiding him most of the time, he’s the one doing all the work. Not that he minds.

When he dips his fingers past the waistband of your panties, he’s not surprised to find that you’re already wet, teasing your clit with soft circles as his other hand gropes your tits over your dress. Your hips buck in pleasure, thighs closing around his hand as your leg falls from the force of gravity, ass barely grinding back against him as you seek friction.

“You did so good tonight,” he says, undoing his jeans to pull them down. “Finally watching all of the movies like I asked,” he says, thick head of his cock stretching your slick walls as he pushes into you, your panties merely pulled to the side.

“Anything for you, baby,” you say, pushing back against him, needing to feel him deeper.

His hands hold your hips in place as he thrusts into you, building speed and tempo as he stifles his groans by marking your neck. You bite your fist, painfully aware of the people asleep just beneath the hayloft, struggling to keep your voice down. It’s unfair, Charlie thinks, how good you feel wrapped around him, milking him as you get closer to orgasm.

“What’s that?” He asks, hearing you mumbling something through your fist.

“Harder, please,” you moan, hiding your face in the blanket.

He holds you against him tighter, hips bruising your ass as he fucks you harder. It’s almost like you’re running away from him, grasping at the straw beside you, failing to silence your moans. He has to move one of his hands over your mouth, hearing your voice begin to echo, his other hand holding your hips in place.

Where once the cold nipped at your skin, you’re now sweltering, Charlie’s body heat warming you up from the inside out. With the way he’s pounding into you now, there’s not much you can think about aside from the way the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each thrust, how it makes heat flare in your belly, and that you’re so fucking close. You don’t realize you’re crying, your vision having gone blurry a while ago, but now you’re seeing stars, hurtling over the edge as he chases his own pleasure.

You’re limp, twitching in his hold, drool and lipgloss smeared against the palm of his hand. It doesn’t take long for him to finish after you, grinding his release into you as he fills you with his hot cum. You whimper from the overstimulation, breathing heavily as both of you ride out the high.

“Goodnight, baby,” Charlie whispers, arms relaxing around you as you both begin drifting off to sleep, still buried deep within you.

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