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patrophthia · 6 months

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attention is what i want! | theo. nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: pining, one sided crushes, angst !!, complicated feelings, theo is a dick tbh, humor (my attempt at it), reader embarrasses herself (multiple time), girls girls pansy, reader are friends with the golden trio but isn’t a gryffindor, cursing, drinking, a bit suggestive in the end hehe

wc: 4.3k (idk how it got this long, i planned to write sth with like 2k at most but it kept going)

note: i wrote this while listening to attention by new jeans for two hours straight (yay pining!) i have very mixed feelings for this fic but here it is anyways!

summary: it’s no secret that you have a crush on theodore nott, theo knows it, hell the whole school knew it; maybe if they didn’t then it’d be easier for you to get over him after you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole school. at least you got a new friend because of it.

To say you had a crush on Theodore Nott would be an understatement. You never actually confessed to the Slytherin but it's as clear as days that you were into him.

And when he was as good looking as he was, could anyone really blame you?

Not really, not when most of Hogwarts found your attempt at shooting your shot with him the most amusing thing ever.

"Good morning, Nott." Your hand shot upwards the second the Slytherin enters the classroom. His eyes settling on you whilst his friends bickers behind him. "I saved you a seat."

There's snickering from behind you, hushed whispers as your classmate gossips about your pathetic attempt at getting with Theodore once more.

His eyes scans the room, finally settling on one of the two empty seats behind the class and B-lining towards it. Zabini, having lost to Malfoy at grabbing the seat next to Theodore smiles at you kindly. Maybe even apologetically as he sits next to you.

"Better luck next time?" He offers, trying to lighten your mood and you smile back, nodding. "You'll get him eventually."

And though your voice is low, barely audible and muffled; Zabini still manages to hear you huff out a: "doubt it."

"Do you think he'd pay attention to me if I dyed my hair green?" You ask, playing with your hair.

Sure, your hair would end up damaged but if it meant Theodore would spare a glance your way then you'd take it.

Harry looks at you as if you'd grown an extra head, green eyes enlarged as he tries to gauge whether you were serious or not. "Excuse me?"

"I think I could pull of forest green hair."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "No, you can't." She doesn't really mean it though, she does agree that you'd probably pull off forest green hair but she'd rather you do it for your own personal wants rather than to gain someone else's attention. "And you won't."

You only huff at her words. "Why not?"

"Because, it's stupid. You'd look stupid doing so." Mione doesn't bother sugarcoating it, she doesn't need to when you've known her as long as you have. "If you need his attention so badly then ask him out, just drop the question and get it over with."

"I'm trying to!" You groan, passing your plate with leftovers over to Ron who accepts it gladly. "I could walk naked in front of him and he wouldn't even bat an eyelash."

Ron face scrunches at the idea, finding the prospect of a naked you disgusting. "You could put up a banner," he suggests through a mouthful of food. "I'd notice someone if they put up a banner with my name on it."

And when Hermione's whacked Ron at him encouraging what she deemed was self destructive behavior, the conversation shifts to something else completely.

You're huffing and puffing when you straighten up, showing your three closest friends what you'd been working on for the last two days. "What do you think?"

Ron gasps loudly, eyes wide as he takes in the imagine in front of him. "You're crazy."

"If you'd just—" Hermione, as if it was second nature, reaches up and smack at his arm. "—learnt how to shut up, this wouldn't have happened."

It's only natural for you to frown at their reaction, brows knitted as you asked them. "Is it too much?"

Harry, and his sweet sweet soul tries his best to not hurt your feelings as he nodded. "Maybe?" He tries to soften the blow, adding on: "I think it's brilliant, it's just ... a lot."

You look over your masterpiece. Reading out the glittering paint, letter by letter and watching it as it takes shape into one of the biggest banner you've seen at Hogwarts by far.

Written in shining green paint were the words:

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me?

"I mean, if anything you'll definitely get his attention with that," Harry says, blinking rapidly at the banner. "It's pretty hard to miss."

"Let's hope so."

The dining hall is louder than normal, it has always been noisy; having seated thousands of teenagers who had little to none supervision during their breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

But like Theodore has noted earlier, it's noisier than normal. And the drop of voices is significant when he steps through the large doors, loud gossips turns to hushed whispers; eyes roaming between him and a figure by the Gryffindor table.

It doesn't take him long to notice why, a dust of glitter falling down on him from above. He glances up, eyes squinting as he reads out the banner before him.

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me?

The letters are bright, glinting under the candle light as if it was taunting him, pushing at his buttons for a reaction. And though, there was no name written on the banner to indicate who'd made it; he knew that it was you.

Dark eyes narrows as he zones in on you. You dressed up nicely, watching him with a pretty smile on your waiting face.

And when all he did was roll his eyes and turn towards the Slytherin table, without sparing you another look. You all but deflated in front of everyone's eyes.

You knew it was stupid, and that it was all your fault to make your love life so public for everyone to entertain themselves with, but you can't help but feel hurt at the laughter bubbling through out the hall.

You're scrambling out of your seat, rushing out of the hall when a voice shouts out. "Serves you right, pick me!"

Oddly enough, it's Pansy who speaks up; her voice loud and clearly irritated when she shouts back, telling them to go and: "Fuck yourself."

Why the Slytherin threw a dirty glare at her friend and ran after you despite the two of you not being friends —let alone having been seen together before, was a mystery to everyone.

And since Hermione loves you too much for her own good, she’s quick to scramble out of her seat, casting a spell to set the banner up in flames as she rushed after Pansy and you.

There’s a sort of guilt that Hermione feels when she finds you hunched over with Pansy’s hand running up and down your back. The two of you weren’t friends, neither is Hermione and Pansy but when a girl’s in need of comfort, it’s only normal for them to be there for her.

“I don’t get why you’re into him, honestly,” Pansy grits out, “out of all the boys in Slytherin you just had to choose the dickhead, didn’t you?”

Hermione can hear you sniffle out a laugh as she takes a seat on your other side. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to choose the dickhead, huh?”

Pansy and Hermione are sharing a grin as you lift your head up slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not like I wanted to like him, you know?” You say with a small laugh. “I guess I’m just attracted to an asshole.”

“You’re guessing this now?” Pansy says with a roll of her eyes, there’s no venom in her tone, only playful annoyance. “This isn’t the first time he’s treated you like this. I’ve heard all about your … attempts, you know?”

“Really?” You’re laughing and the hurt in your tone is clearer than ever. “How embarrassing.”

“It’s not,” Hermione reassured you, “if anything I think it’s endearing.”

“Me making a fool of myself for a guy is endearing to you?”

Pansy giggles at your words. “I’ve done worse, maybe just not so publicly.” Her voice is playful when she adds on, “but this should be the final nail in the coffin right? Finally getting over that asshole after this?”

“That asshole is your best friend,” you remind her and she looks to her side bashfully.

“That doesn’t excuse him for being horrible to you,” she mumbled. “And I thought Draco was bad.”

“Malfoy is bad,” Hermione chimes in. “He just didn’t humiliate you like Nott did her.”

Pansy tilts her head to the side in thought. “Maybe. Or maybe we should just stop dating Slytherin guys over all.”

Hermione only smiles fondly at her words. “Maybe.”

You’re doing fine. Or as fine as one could be after a publicly humiliating confession. You’re still very you, smiling at Theodore every chance you get even though you’ve told your friends (now extended to Pansy) multiple times that you were getting over him.

The only BIG difference that anyone noticed after your rejection was that you no longer attempted to get closer to Theodore. You don’t save him seats, you don’t tell him good morning, and they’d be lying if they said it wasn’t weird.

“Is this seat taken?”

You look up, eyes widening at the person in front of you and nodded. “I’m saving it for someone.” You pray to Merlin that he doesn’t hear the waver in your voice as you did so. “Is there something you needed?”

He doesn’t answer you, instead placing his book bag on your desk. You try to control the butterflies caged in your stomach, fluttering at the sight of his forearm flexing as he did so. “You’re saving it for me? Like always?”

You blink at him. “… no. I’m saving it for Blaise.”

“Huh,” he hums thoughtfully, “you’re in first name basis now?”

You move to your right when he takes his seat to your left, trying to distance yourself from him. “What do you want?”

He looks at you and your pretense of being over him crumbles all over, tumbling as he nearly knocks you off your feet just how intense his gaze is. And though you’ve always wanted his attention, for him to look at you back like he’s doing now. You can’t help but feel sick to your stomach with how much you still liked him.

“Attention is what you want, right?”

What is he playing at? “Not anymore.”

“Shame.” There’s a slight smile at your answer. “I was finally ready to give it to you.”

“He said that?” Pansy repeats your words back to you, her hand moving away from your face as she dips it back into the face mask she’d mixed up. “That’s weird.”

“That’s what I thought,” you murmur, feeling Hermione kick her feet into your lap. “I’m so confused right now.”

“Maybe he’s playing hard to get?” Hermione suggests. “Even if he is I hope he knows the only hard thing he’s getting is a rock thrown at his face.”

It’s clear that she’s taken your rejection harder than you did, grumbling at the thought of him. “A text book if he’s lucky.”

Pansy finishes up your face mask and sets the bowl down. “I told him to apologise to you, not to go and bother you," she says, frowning slightly.

“You told him to apologise?” The tone of the conversation shifts, downing just the slightest bit.

Pansy avoids your eyes as she nods, “I just wanted him to say sorry for how he treated you, you didn’t deserve that. But that fucker decided to go and do something weird, I’m sorry, lovely.”

When she’s taken up the nickname lovely for you, you don’t know. But you’re too much into your head to say anything about it. “Please don’t do that. Don’t meddle with this just because you pity me. I can handle this by myself.”

“I don’t—” Pansy pauses, realising the weight of her actions “—I’m sorry, I promise I’ll leave you be.”

You’re nodding when you tell her: “thank you.”

Trying to jot down notes does nothing to soothe your nerves, and it definitely doesn’t distract you from the fact that Theodore Nott is sitting so damn close to you. So close that your thighs were touching, and that with any small move you made, your shoulder brushes against his.

Moving your chair to the right is no use, not when he’d move his just so he’d be closer to you. You’re so close you could practically hear him breathe.

It’s when your quill slips off of your desk that you have to confront him about it. You nudge at his thigh with yours, forcing them to his left only for him to look at you curiously. “Can you move?”

“Why?” He asks instead, planting his thighs where they’d been.

“My quill fell, I need to get it.” You explain, avoiding his eyes as best as you could. His attention is not good for your heart, maybe it two weeks ago, but it definitely wasn’t now.

Theodore is uninterested and unmoving when he quipped back. “And you can’t get like this?”

Not if you didn’t want to plan your face on his lap and be so terribly close to his— yeah no. You sigh, leaning forward to tap at the person’s in front of you shoulder. “Would you mind getting my quill for me please? It’s bit hard for me to reach.”

The person in front nods and leans down to get it for you with a smile. And when they hands it to you, their finger brushing against yours, you distinctly feel Theodore press himself closer to you.

“You could’ve borrowed mine,” Theodore says lowly, eyeing you from above.

He’s slightly taller than you, even when you’re both sat. Trying to prove to him (and yourself) that you were over him, and that this close proximity did not matter to you; you strain your neck up to glare at him. “You could’ve moved.”

“Maybe,” he concurs. “And you could’ve just asked for me to get it for you.”

“Like you’d do that,” you murmur with a roll of your eyes. “For me of all people.”

“For you of all people,” he repeats.

You hate how you instinctively break away from his gaze, looking at your notes as you try to calm your beating heart. Two weeks is nearly not enough to time to get over a crush you’ve been harboring for the longest time, not when you liked him so much you didn’t bother to keep it a secret to anyone and he knows it.

He knows it and he’s using it as an advantage, for what exactly you don’t know. What you do know, is that you need to get away from Theodore Nott. Or kiss him. Whichever works.

You sigh, glancing at your hands and hope that your voice doesn’t tremble when you quietly ask him. “What are you playing at Theodore?” You’re exasperated and he can hear it, he can hear the exhaustion in your voice and he tries his best not to let it get to him. “I know Pansy told you to apologize but you’re not apologizing, you’re just making things worse.”

He doesn’t say anything, though you can still feel his eyes on you. “Excuse me, Professor,” he says suddenly, his shoulder knocking yours as he stood up, “I’m feeling a bit under the weather, would you mind letting me slip to the infirmary?”

His hands are on you, holding firmly onto your wrist as he speaks. “It’s best if I had a friend to help me.” The professor doesn’t get a chance to respond before Theodore is pulling you away from the class.

Your words are jumbled, flailing as you try to match up his pace; you’re confused and against your better judgement, you trust that he wouldn’t hurt you —even if he’d done so many times before.

He comes to a halt by a hallway, it’s quiet still; students having yet left their classes.

He looks at you, dark eyes clouding with emotion and tries to get you to look at him. Practically begging for you to give him your attention before speaking. “How am I making things worse? It’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“It is,” you say after a minute. “It’s just— this isn’t how I wanted it.

I like you, Theodore. A lot and I’ve made it so clear so many times and you always made it clear that you didn’t like me back. I finally try to get over you and you do this? What even is this? What are you trying to get at, Theo?”

He doesn’t answer you, his hand finally releasing the grip on your wrist to rest by his side.

You scoff, noting how he falls back to his pattern of not speaking to you when you’re practically pouring your heart out to him.

“Why did never ask me out?”

Your expression is puzzled, and he knows that he needs to explain himself, for him to tell you exactly what he meant but can’t bring himself to. Not when he wants to keep his pride in check.

“I did ask you out,” you tell him slowly. “In front of everyone.”

“Exactly,” his reply is breathless as if he had been pondering over this for ages, “in front of everyone. Why didn’t you tell me you like me? Why didn’t you ask me when it’s just you and I?”

“Are you serious?” You let out a ridiculing laugh. “You never wanted to step a single foot next to me and you expected me to ask you when it’s just me and you? Are you kidding me?

Did you ever wonder why I wrote ‘attention is what I want’?”

He’s speechless. And screwed. He can sense that you’re growing agitated with him, and he hates it.

“Would it have changed anything if I had asked you out between you and I?”

His silence is loud enough for you to understand his converted answer.

“Merlin, why did you bring me out here, Theodore?”

Theodore is bad at emotions. He’s bad at feelings, he’s bad at love and everything alike. He doesn’t like you and he’s pretty sure of it. Then why does it bother him so much to know that you no longer wanted anything to do with him.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t.” You meet his eyes and he knows that this is the end, you’re done with him for good. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to be the one I liked, huh?”

“And that’s it?” Ron ask curiously. “You’re finally getting over him?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, waving at Pansy who waved at you from the end of the dining hall, her Slytherin friends pointedly looking between you, Pansy, and Nott. “Finally am.”

Ron doesn’t need to know that despite your mind being set on getting over Nott, your stomach still did somersault every time you see him —even in your peripheral vision.

And when you smile at him, much like you did to everyone else and he doesn’t smile back at you; you feel your heart break all over again.

It’s your own fault though, falling for a mere stranger who you’d only ever spoken to in classes —all of which having been conversations about school.

“Do I get reward?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “A reward for doing something we’ve been telling you to do for ages? You wish.”

“I’ve been wishing for something else.” The mischievous look on your face is enough to clue her in on where your mind as gone, scrunching her face as she scowls at you. “Gross.”

“Are you okay though?” Harry asks you lowly. “I know it can be hard to get over crushes.” Take him and Chang for example. “So if you need anything we’re here for you.”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Or at least I’ll be.”

Harry offers you a smile, as kind as always. “That’s good then.”

It’d only be weird for you to visit the Slytherin common room often (courtesy of Pansy) and for you to not run into Theodore at least once.

You’re standing outside the common room, waiting for Pansy to come and get you when the door swings open and he stands there in front of you. He’s in his pajamas, an oversized sweater pooling at his hands.

“What are you doing here?”

Though you’re also in your pajamas, you feel slightly underdressed under his eyes. Only having worn a loose T-shirt and shorts for girls night.

You want to ask him what he’s doing here but it is his house’s common room so you withheld your question to yourself. “Pansy.”

He gives you a once over before glancing back into the common room, it’s roaring with laughters; a bunch of the Slytherin boys deciding to play card games as they indulge themselves with the alcohol they bought with their father’s money.

“Let me walk you in,” he offers, already turning back into the common room; expecting for you to follow after him.

“You don’t need to—” you don’t get to finish your words when Theodore throws you a sharp look. As if he was asking you to protest him on this. You sigh, following after him.

Theodore stays a good distance away, hiding you and your bare legs from the other Slytherins. He doesn’t really have to though, most of them minding their own business until Blaise chirps up to say hi.

“Hello,” you greeted him back, waving at him. Crabbe, now noticing your interaction lets out a low whistle at the sight of you. And Theodore moves closer to you, almost possessively. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Mhmm,” Blaise says, humming before turning his attention back to Enzo. “Goodnight, princess.”

There’s a snicker from Goyle, smirking as he says. “You’re stealing Nott’s girl now?”

You only offer him a smile, feeling Theodore come in over closer to you as he hurries you up the stairs. There’s a thump! from behind and you knew, without seeing, that Blaise threw a pillow at the bastards face.

Theodore doesn’t try to hide his amusement when you curse a hex in Crabbe and Goyle’s way, not when Mattheo’s laughter roared across the room at your spell.

“Thank you,” you tell Theodore, and you noticed that his lips are curled; why exactly, you don’t want to know. “Goodnight, Theodore.”

You’re halfway up the stairs when he calls your name, you turn to him. “Yes?”

“Goodnight,” he says, turning on his heel to leave.

You turn back up the stairs, only to pause and look back at him once, twice; before setting off to find Pansy.

It’s two weeks later when Theodore bumps into you again, this time; quite literally. His hands are on you, stilling you so you wouldn’t fall flat on your ass.

The dance floor is crowded, but it’s to be expected when one of the most popular students at Hogwarts (read: Blaise Zabini) is throwing a birthday party.

You’re —by extension through Pansy, a friend of his which means you needed to be there or he’d be pretty (very) sad about it and pester you about it for the rest of your life.

“Woah!” Your hands lay awkwardly on his chest, trying to push him away whilst trying to balance yourself still. “Watch where you’re going.”

Theodore straightens you up, hands lingering a little too long before letting you go. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

And though you promised yourself to let go off Theodore months ago, you can’t help but feel your heart twist at his words. Skin burning where he’d touch you mere seconds ago.

“It’s fine,” you wave him off, “just be more careful.”

“Yeah.” His tone is breathless, blinking at you slowly as if he couldn’t believe you were so close to him. “You look nice.”

You better hope so, it’s not like you spend an hour getting ready to look anything but nice. And despite your better judgment, you feel butterflies setting off in your stomach once more. But that could’ve also been caused by the mixed concoction you downed five minutes ago.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “You too, Theo.”

“Mhmm,” he hums nodding, his expression is hesitant. “Thank you,” he says, turning his head to the side and under the clubbing lights, you can easily spot the tinging redness at the top of his ears. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“What?” It’s not that you didn’t hear him, it’s that you didn’t want to hear him. Because you knew, damn well, that if he’d just repeated himself you would agree within a heartbeat.

He gulps, and repeat himself. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Maybe your heart is weak, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Theodore that gets you out of there with him attached to your lips.

His hand pressing into the small of your back as you leaned against the wall, a small groan slipping from his lips when you nipped on it.

Theodore pulls back, eyes wide and roaming your face as he takes your features in; memorising the slope of your nose, the plumpness in your lips, and the apples of your cheeks as if this was the last time he’d be able to do so. And presses his lips to yours once more.

He calls out your name, a free hand reaching up to cup your jaw so you’d look at him. For you to give him the attention he so desperately wanted from you. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you probably hate me and I’m so sorry but give me a chance, please.”

His tone is desperate, almost begging as he did so and you wonder if he knew the impact he still had on you. He lets go of your jaw, arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

“Give me a chance to make it up to you,” he asks of you, mouth pressing wet kisses down your neck as he repeats himself. “Please, please, pretty girl.”

“Theo.” His kisses doesn’t stop, much less falter at your words. “Theo.”

“Mhmm?” He hums against your neck, pulling back to give you his full an undivided attention. “Yes?”

He’s a bit taken aback when you kiss him quickly, chasing your lips as you pulled back. “You have a lot to make up for.”

“I know.” The curled smile of his returns, dark eyes glinting as he looks at you. “But for now let me give you all my attention.”

— from bee: i guess reader got what she wished for at the end lol, feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! (๑>◡<๑)

p.s this pic of mingyu is so (my) bf i love him!!

#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #🧳: my writing #Spotify

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abbyromanoff · 1 year

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oouuu can you write another fluffy smutty g!p kate x reader fic cause that one was *chefs kiss* and kate needs to be written more 😍 i actually requested that last one and i’m glad i did 😁

-🌿

Meeting the parents

Pairings: g!p Kate Bishop x reader

Summary: after meeting Kate’s parents for the first time you two shared a sweet night together.

Warnings: smut, fluff, protected sex, p in v, Kate has a dick, dirty talk, praising, mentions of hand jobs

Thank you for your kind words anon!! 😘

Word count: 1,786

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

Knocking on the large door of the penthouse you waited for a response. Today was the day that you’d finally get to meet Kate's mom and step dad, nervous was an understatement. Hearing footsteps get closer you stood up right, trying your best to look professional. When seeing Kate at the other side you relaxed a bit, walking in and pulling her into a kiss. Kate grabbed your hips as you both met lips, only stopping when her mother cleared her throat, great start. You awkwardly handed the woman a bottle of wine, stating that it was for this evening. She thanked you and walked away, leaving you and Kate alone in the front hallway.

“Well don’t you look sexy in your suit.” The black haired woman blushed at your words, looking down at her feet to hide it. You chuckled and tilted her chin upwards, making her look you in the eyes once again. You turned when you heard someone walking towards the two of you, looking only to see that it was Jack, Kate’s step dad. Going in to give the man a handshake he eased your nerves by pulling you in for a hug instead, saying if Kate loved you so did he. You pulled away after a short moment and felt your girlfriend wrap her arms around your shoulders, looking up to see she had a smile on her face. The older man directed you into the dining room as the food was already prepared and made, he told you to sit as he was going to bring the food out. Wanting to get a good start you offered your help, to which he thanked you and let you bring in mashed potatoes along with everyone’s silverware and plates. Kate and you sat next to each other while Jack and Eleanor sat together as well.

The dinner was spent with learning more about you, the couple seemed to have lots of questions for you which you had to improvise each one. Kate was embarrassed with some of the questions, but seeing you actually enjoy talking to them she relaxed. As you offered you help once again with cleaning the dishes Kate decided to do them with you, wanting to talk to you alone for the first time this night. When her mother walked in and told her Jack needed her she quietly groaned but listened, leaving you with a kiss to the check. You smiled to yourself as you cleaned the silverware, still having Kate’s kiss on your face.

Eleanor walked up to you and started conversation once again, but this time she wasn’t the one asking questions. “So Y/N, you seem to be treating my daughter pretty well.” You hummed in response and went to speak only for her to continue on. “And as nice as you seem I still have to give you the ‘talk’. So if I hear that you broke my daughters heart I promise I will have my men show no mercy on you, and if I ever see my daughter crying because of you-“

You stopped the woman before she could finish, trying to assure her you’d never do something like that. “Ms. Bishop, I promise that I will never even dream of hurting your daughter, and if I ever did I would hope you’d do that. I truly love Kate and I see myself spending my life with her one day, maybe even having a nice little family of our own. I came here today so I could meet my future in-laws, and I will stick to that. So you have my word, I will never do anything to make your daughter upset or hurt because I love her.” The woman had a large grin on her face when you finished, she pulled you into a hug as you felt tears drip onto your shoulder. You leaned back and handed her a tissue that was in a box on the table. She wiped the droplets off her face just as the woman you were talking about walked in.

“What’s going on?” She asked seeing her mother wiping her slightly crying face. “Oh nothing dear, I was just talking to Y/N here.” She said before walking up to her daughter, slightly whispering in her ear. “They’re a keeper.” Eleanor then walked out and you were left alone with Kate, she walked up behind you and hugged you from behind. You turned to wrap your arms around her neck as she slowly swayed you both to the music in the other room, slow dancing in the kitchen. She spun you around and pulled you back in, your back now resting against her front as she put her arms around you once again.

“You truly are a keeper.” She whispered in your ear. You hoped it was true, you wanted to spend your life with the woman but you didn’t know if she wanted to as well. You dreamed of having a baby with her someday, maybe a boy or a girl or even both, having them run around the house and Kate chasing after them, it was your favorite dream. What you didn’t know is that she wanted that too, she wanted to marry you and have a family together, she would do anything if it means she’ll be with you.

Soon the two of you were about to head home, saying goodbye to her parents and thanking them for the food. You both walked out together, her hand on your lower back as she brought you to the taxi. During the ride she put her hand on your thigh as you rested your head on her shoulder, almost falling asleep.

The two of you returned home and were getting ready for bed when you asked Kate, “What did your mom say about me earlier?” She turned to look at you, trying to remember which time you were talking about. “She said that you are a real keeper.” You let out a content sigh, feeling happy that her mother likes you. Your girlfriend watched as you spit out your mouthwash, now being done with brushing your teeth. You walked over to her and gave her a kiss on the lips, one that she chased after when you parted. You both went to lay down in bed as you cuddled up into her, your head on her chest and her arms holding you.

“I overheard you and my mom talking today.” She whispered, wanting you to know that she felt the same way. “Did you really mean what you said?” There was water in her eyes now, you could see it glistening in the slightly dark room. You sat up so you were looking at her, “I meant every word I said about you Katey.” She smiled at your words, feeling as if her heart was going to explode from happiness any second now. She leaned in to kiss you, this time not letting you go. She slowly rubbed your thigh as the two of you made out, trying to feel you all over. Whenever you two would stop to breathe for a minute sweet words were traded before going back in. She directed you to straddle her, bringing your thigh onto her own. When you sat on her lap your core was met with her covered thigh, you slightly grinded on it, trying to see her reaction. When she didn’t say anything you continued chasing after the feeling. She rested her hands on your bottom, helping you ride her thigh better. Whenever you would move your knee would slightly make contact with her crotch, making her hard as ever. You stopped only to take off both of you guys’ pants, originally wearing Christmas sweatpants together. When the two of you were naked from below the waist you continued your riding, now feeling even better with her exposed leg on you.

You grabbed her hard cock and slowly started to jerk her off, causing her to throw her head back in pleasure. “Fuck, please keep doing that, it feels so good!” She moaned out not caring if she was begging. She always tried being dominant but it didn’t always work, she would just end up pleading you for help. She wasn’t exactly a bottom per say, she enjoyed being on top and having control but she also liked when you did as well. She found it hot when you’d be in charge, seeing you take control always made her cum faster. When you felt your own orgasm getting close you quickly grabbed a condom, sliding it on her dick and hovering above her. You sunk down onto her as moans increased in volume for the both of you, even if it didn’t feel the same with a condom on she still felt your warm, tight walls hugging around her.

“Yes Y/N, ride my dick baby. Don’t stop till you cum all over me.” She whimpered out, hoping you wouldn’t deny her like you’ve done so many times. But tonight you just wanted some soft, sweet sex, not where you’d punish her or get punished. You just wanted to enjoy her presence and make the both of you feel good. You went at a slow pace, not quite being ready to pick up in speed. But once you felt her hands on your waist trying to make you go faster, you complied. You alternated from bouncing to riding her length, trying to see what made her feel best.

“Katey,” you whimpered out to her, “Don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” You were hoping that you’d be able to last longer than her, but seeming as you already rode her thigh that wish was destined to not be true.

Kate nodded and agreed, “Me neither baby, want you to cum for me. I need it, need to feel you clench around me please.” She begged, only bringing you closer to your release with her words.

“Don’t worry I will, I want you to cum with me okay? And then we can do whatever you’d like, I’ll jerk you off, do you want that baby?” She nodded, feeling hot and bothered at the thought of you giving her a handjob after this. You both moaned into one another as you came, her a few seconds after you. The two of you rode out your high, slowly coming back to reality. When you both calmed down you slowly got off of her cock, immediately missing the feeling inside you. She quickly threw off her condom as you sat next to her legs, getting ready to cum once again but this time in your hand.

“Now I believe I promised you something?”

#kate bishop fluff #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x gender neutral reader #kate bishop

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 9 months

Text

Bateman Begins Part 40

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Notes: Slightly shorter chapter this time around, soz 🦇🖤 Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader Rating: M Warnings: None, tbh

"Do you miss him?"

It's a loaded question, and asked without any teasing.

You avoid Barry's eyes, reaching out and nabbing a few fries from his plate. You practically stuff them into your mouth to keep from answering.

He tips his head to the side, giving you a knowing look. You take your drink up next, taking a deep sip and swallowing thickly before offering, "Did I mention it's nice to see you?"

Barry scoffs a laugh, brows raising as he breathes, "Wow!"

"Shut up," You mutter, sliding down in your seat.

The diner is busier than you've seen it, and busier than you expected it to be. Then again, with Christmas closing in in Metropolis, maybe people have come to visit family, or are there to spend their vacation.

The diner is one of your absolute favorite places that you've frequented in the year and a half that you've lived in Metropolis.

The booths are comfy, they don't make farting noises when you shuffle in and out of them, the food is fricking delicious, and not pricey.

But, in the time that you've been in Metropolis, you haven't been able to banish Nathan from your mind.

Oh, you've tried.

You have spent nights wide awake, trying to forget the way Nathan teased you.

The way he held you, and kissed you.

On the worst nights, you're jolted awake by the dizzying nightmares of that night in the Narrows, what you'd been certain were Nathan's cries for help before you'd been attacked on the roof.

But you've adjusted to being in Metropolis, and being alone.

"...How is he?" You ask lightly.

"Depends on who you ask," Barry shrugs. "Giselle's invited me to a couple of events, we've kinda made eye contact, but we haven't talked. Giselle said he's been doing a lot of press....And it seems to be taking it out of him."

Good.

It bubbles up in behind your lips, and you force it down with another sip of your drink.

"What even happened between you two?" Barry asks, folding his arms on the table.

You sigh softly, shaking your head a little.

"We just...We hit some roadblocks. There was some stuff we couldn't get past."

"Stuff like Vicki Vale?"

"No, not that—I mean yeah, that, but not just that. I think her being around made me realize that he and I just had a lot of differences, things that we just couldn't...Fix."

"You tell Nathan that?"

"...Not in so many words." You clear your throat, waving Barry off. "Anyway. That's passed, it's over, it's...Let's talk about something else! Is there anything that you wanna do over the next few days?"

"Hey, you're the transplant, you tell me."

You mimic him, abruptly stopping as the waitress comes by with the check. You reach for it, but Barry waves you off, warning, "Ah ah. Lemme get dinner since you're letting me crash at yours."

"And because it's dead-cheap?"

"And because it's dead-cheap," Barry grins, reaching for his wallet.

"So, apart from work, which you spend way too much time at, by the way," Barry adds, hip-checking you as you walk down the block toward your apartment, "How are you finding Metropolis?"

"Uh...Fine," You shrug. "It's like any other city, I guess, you know. Busy streets, tons of traffic, overpriced coffee. Nothing I can't handle."

"And, uh...The crime?"

"It could be worse. Trust me—I know worse." You're quiet for a moment, eyeing the pavement. "I've had a couple of visits."

"From Nathan?"

"Lex Luthor."

You glance toward Barry, then look away again quickly when you see his stunned expression.

"What did Lex Luthor want with you?"

"He was just being a dick, you know. Asking why I didn't come to work for him when I moved."

"Why didn't you?"

Because Nathan would've hated it.

"Because I would've hated it."

Barry leans against the door frame, watching as you fish into your pocket for your front door key.

"You been seeing anyone?" He prods. You frown, glancing toward him.

"What's that got to do with Lex Luthor?"

"Nothing. I'm just curious."

"...No," You shrug. "I've been busy."

Glancing up at Barry again, you find him with his brows raised, head tipped forward in disbelief.

"What?" You laugh.

"Nothing," He reaches out, turning the knob of the unlocked door. "Just trying to figure out why you're still loyal to the man that you left."

He leaves you on your doorstep, gob-smacked and shivering.

It stops you dead in your tracks on the way to work. You take a few steps back, squinting at the newspaper in the stand.

Maybe it seems scandalous to the average reader, but you know better, and it has to be a mistake.

Batman takes Prince of Gotham Hostage

How the hell could Nathan take himself hostage?

It's got to be a rumor, or a misprint, or—

Or something?

You pick the paper up, fishing into your pocket for cash and passing it over. You can't take your eyes off of the newspaper as you walk, nearly wandering into traffic a time or two, walking into no less than three streetlights.

You don't have the chance to really dig into it until you reach your office. You shrug your jacket and bag off before you plop into your office chair and finally flip to page two.

According to eyewitness reports, Bateman was last seen at a lavish party. He disappeared around 8:15 on Monday evening, claiming that he needed to speak with the party's coordinator. After nearly an hour without the host, and unable to find him in his cavernous mansion, attendants called 911. Police said that their investigation into the matter took a shocking turn when they caught sight of the vigilante known as Batman escaping through a side window. There have been no further signs of Bateman, and while the investigation is ongoing, police suspect the worst.

You lean back in your seat, lowering the paper as the wheels spin in your head.

Monday. Monday was nearly six days ago. How were you only just hearing about it?

You reach into your pocket, fumbling with your phone and drawing it out with shaking hands.

It has to be a stunt, right? Some kind of ruse?

Something must have gone wrong, or sideways.

Maybe Nathan had gotten a tip about some crime, and had thought he could just leave the party for a little while. Maybe he was caught coming back in the suit and had to hide.

Maybe he's just laying low.

He'll come back with some wild, funny story, something to shut the press up.

You open your contacts, scrolling through to Nathan's. You tap on it without hesitation, raising the phone to your ear.

His voice, you just need to hear his voice and you'll know that everything is okay—

"I'm sorry; the number you have reached is not in service, or temporarily disconnected."

You lower the phone, your heart pounding in your chest.

No. No, this can't be happening, this can't be right.

Something is very, very wrong.

"I just think this is a little rash," Barry warns, but he makes no move to stop you as you dart back and forth from your dresser to where your suitcase is open on your bed.

"I know what I'm doing, Barry."

"Do you? Quitting your job to go back to Gotham because Batman kidnapped Nathan?"

"It isn't—" You go quiet, pressing your lips into a thin, tight line and drawing a deep breath in through your nose. You trust Barry, but you can't tell him the truth, not like this. "I know this seems insane, but this just doesn't feel right."

"What do you think you're going to get by going back?" Barry asks. "You've got nowhere to stay, no job, no plan."

"I have a plan," You swear, "And that plan is to find Nathan."

"The cops can't even find Nathan."

"They don't know him like I do."

You kneel up on your bed, cramming your clothing into the suitcase as hard as you can. There's no way you're going to get it to shut—

You go still as Barry reaches out, taking up a bulky sweater and folding it properly before he reaches for the next item of clothing.

"Let me do this," He sighs resignedly, "Go check to see if your flight has anymore seats. I'm coming back with you."

Your heart soars, and you grin, rounding the bed and throwing your arms around Barry, pecking his cheek between your mutters of, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Alright, alright," He chuckles, waving you off, "Go."

You hurry into the living room, opening your laptop.

You frown as you hear what sounds like a rustling of wind, and glance toward your room.

"Barry? Did you open the window?"

"...A little!"

"Why?"

"Fresh air helps me pack!"

You shake your head, muttering, "Little weirdo," Before you take your laptop off of the counter, walking back toward your bedroom. "So there are a couple of seats available, but they're not to—..." You slow, brow furrowing as you spot your now neatly-packed suitcase. "—Gether...Uh. How the fuck did you do that?"

"I was in, uh...Speed-packing competitions when I was a kid?"

"Is that a thing?"

"...In Central City, yeah."

You eye him for a moment, his bright, smiling face and raised brows.

...Something doesn't feel right about that, either, but one thing at a time.

"O...Kay. Anyway, as I was saying, there are a few seats available but none together."

"That's fine, book 'em," Barry shrugs. "Whatever gets us back fastest."

"Done and done."

Tag list: Tag list: @blueeyesatnight ; @revolution-starter ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @foxilayde @danniburgh ; @carbonated-beverage ; @brandyllyn ; @missredherring ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @ew-erin ; @recklessworry ; @xocalliexo ; @youngkenobilove ; @chattychell ; @lorecraft ; @thembosapphicclown ; @emotionalsupportbatfamily ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine #Bateman Begins

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ismileeprnc · 7 months

Text

𝐀 𝐖𝐞(𝐞𝐚)𝐞𝐤’𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲: 𝐄𝐩 𝟗 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

pairing w zhong chenle

GENRE Smut, a touch of angst if you squint real hard lol

MINORS DNI 🙏🏾

MENTION OF edging (no actual scene tho) hair pulling, sub!chenle, oral (fem receiving), face fucking, squirting, dom!reader, dick gripping, slight overstimulation, reader has two orgasms

A/N: just me writing @ 3am again. No biggie 🤭 also I haven’t written for chenle in a while. Feedback is appreciated! Remember to be kind tho :/ thanks always for the love in my absence 💚💚💚

Chenle wasn’t sure how much he could take before he had to get on his knees and practically beg you to fuck him. It’s been a nonstop thing all week long of you riling him up, getting him so close to edge just to leave him high and dry. Hard and trembling with need to come.

Borderline blue-balling him And it didn’t help that you were skipping around his place in just your underwear and a shirt of his that hiked up your ass every time you bent over. Obviously on purpose.

There weren’t enough cool showers he could take to keep his erections down and jerking off was basically pointless. He could never make himself feel as good as you do and he knows you knows this, reason why you never barged in on his little “shower sessions,” not even when he was moaning your name on the other side.

He didn’t know if it were a game or not but accepted his defeat long ago and you noticed how much more sulkier he has become. Going to little to no answers. You can’t help but wonder if you went too far. You only wanted to see how far he could go before he was groveling at your feet but now he just shrugs off you advances. Despite having the most painful boners, his back turn towards you and tries to get some sleep. Eventually it had to go away.

That next morning he wakes up alone and to the smell of something cooking. His stomach almost immediately growls, reminding him how he hadn’t eaten last night. Chenle kicks backs the covers, dragging his tired limbs out of bed and to kitchen where he finds you over the stove, again just in his shirt and underwear.

“Since when do you cook?” His voice croaks and coughs to clear his throat. You stay turned away from him, stirring in whatever you had in the pot in front of you.

“Since someone decided to skip dinner last night.” Looking over your shoulder directly at him, “Don’t ever do that again.” You sounded angry which made him uneasy, looking down to avoid your gaze while playing with the cuffs of his hoodie. ‘Sorry, wasn’t hungry.’

Liar. But you let it go for now and went on to plate his food, setting it down before him. Snapping your fingers and pointing for him to sit. Chenle does but waits for you join him to before digging in.

Not a single word was exchanged between you. Not even a glance. The hell was he even supposed to say? Clearly you were pissed but he couldn’t decipher whether if it was because he went to bed hungry or was it something else? He was too scared to ask. Afraid of having a possible argument and tries shutting up his mind on finding a conclusion and continued to eat.

He offered to wash the dishes, feeling bad if he left you to do them after you cooked for him. Still you haven’t said a word. Kind of surprised you didn’t since knowing how much he hated doing dishes. He’s drawn to the conclusion that it wasn’t about him skipping dinner last night. It was definitely something else. But what?

He hasn’t joked with you in the last few days. Couldn’t have been something he said. He remembers to put the toilet lid down every time he goes. So what could it possibly—

“Oh.” The boy nearly hollers when he’s abruptly snatched from his train of thoughts, realizing you somehow had gotten behind him and your hand shoved down his boxers, gripping his dick.

“Y/n—”

“So this is why you’re ignoring me? Done got used to not having your dick wet you think you don’t need me anymore?” Squeezing tighter, he only wails and grips the edge of the sink. Water still running and soap on his hands.

Don’t need you anymore? Of course he needs you. Needs so fucking bad that he thinks he will actually explode. He needed your touch so much. To feel your lips all over him but most importantly, he needs to be inside of you. So deep that he could see himself protrude in your tummy. Need to hear you tell him he was fucking you too good, how nice and full he made you.

“Please, please, please.” He hisses through closed teeth, already sounding needy when you literally had his cock in a chocking grip.

“Why? Give me one reason why I shouldn’t just let you run off to the shower to fix yourself?”

Because I don’t wanna fix myself! Is what he wanted to say. Those words being right on the tip of his tongue but morphed into chants as your grip had gotten any more possibly tighter when he was taking too long to respond.

“I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT. WHATEVER YOU WANT, I SWEAR I’LL DO IT.” He babbles like a fool, standing on his tippies as if that were gonna help with the pain. You cut him some release, loosening your grip at his outburst. Taking your finger under his chin so he’s looking you directly in the eye.

“Whatever I want huh?” And he nods frantically, shaking some hair in his eyes.

He loses his breath when you in one move let go of his cock and pushed him down on his knees. The impact stung but he was able to put that on the back burner when you saw your bare pussy come into view.

Wait— so you weren’t wearing underwear—

Chenle gasps as you draw his face near you by his hair. His breath fanning against you, making you aching in need. These last few days has been as much torture for you as it were for him but thankfully you had him right where you wanted him.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Chenle instantly does and hums the second your juices were dancing on his tongue. You were so wet, some of it getting on his face as he lapped it all up best as he could.

Keeping your hand in his hair, you steer his head deeper into your cunt. His nose nestled right against your clit as you held him still, fucking yourself on his face.

“Just like that. Only your tongue.” You then moan loudly and reach for the counter beside you to hold yourself up.

Chenle felt his jaw beginning to ache the more pressure you put down on him as well as his scalp burning from the gripping. His brain too was screaming for oxygen. Just a little more. He chants to himself, squeezing your thighs to hold on but that didn’t stop the little white dots from spotting in his vision.

Right then you were coming. The pleasure had became so much that you squirted all over his face, it dripping down his chin as well as the side of your legs. Chenle took big gulps of air and swallowed a bit that landed in his mouth.

He looked a mess; face wet and a very obvious bulge protruding through his boxers.

“Couch.” Was all you said before Chenle was collecting himself off the ground and scurried off to the living room, dragging you with him.

The second his back met the plush surface, you were climbing on top of him and rid him of his boxers. His cock sprung out and smacked against his tummy. The tip already leaking with precum and colored an angry shade of red.

Without warning, you sink down on his length, punching a moan out the both of you. He seemed to have forgotten tight you were in a matter of days. Your walls sucked him in like a vacuum while he stretched you out nicely. Raising your hips till all was left was his tip before sinking back down on him. A repetitive movement you did a couple more times before finding your rhythm.

Chenle was beyond cloud nine. Getting lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him like a glove. So warm. So wet from your previous orgasm. It created a nice slip, making it easy for you to bounce on top of him. This is all he wanted all week long. How could ever you accuse him of not needing you? He needed you always like the very breath he breathed. And whatever your reason may had been for causing him boner-filled nights, hopefully it was all over.

“I’m so close.” He whines in your ear, gripping the back of your shirt like if you were gonna slip right through his fingers and holds you close to his body.

“Please let me come. Let me fill you up.”

Nodding, giving him the go, “Come for me baby.”

Chenle releases inside of you, his body completely stiffens under you just from how intense his orgasm was while you milked him of every drop.

You still had to finish. Sitting up, your hips rocked increasingly faster and caused Chenle to wail. Hands trying to push you off top of him,

“T-too muc-ch.” But you held him down with your weight, determined to come a second time. Your hand shoots down between your bodies, contacting with your clit. Just the edge you needed to come undone, spasming around his spent cock.

You both take a minute to regain your breath, chests raising and falling together until they were steady. Listening to each other’s still breathing. It wasn’t tense like it was earlier and for the first time in what felt like a month, he was actually lying with you and not against you. He missed this so damn much.

Before he allowed himself to slip in a doze, he always joke that your pussy puts him out, but he feels you sit up. One arm propped on his chest to hold you up.

“What’s the real reason why you were ignoring me ?” You just had to know. Drawing a line of confusion between his brows.

“Why do you think I was ignoring you?” Head tilting in curiosity and earns a shrug from you.

“I don’t know. You just seemed to push me away whenever I got close.”

He stared back at you like you had just said the dumbest thing, which you quite literally did because ain’t no way you were oblivious to everything you had been doing to him.

“You’re really gonna sit here and pretend like you didn’t just blue ball me all week long?”

Chenle was no fool. The second he saw you trying to cover a smirk, he called you out and smacked your butt but you just continue to laugh at him, amused by the whole thing. He knew you toying with him this whole time.

“Why would you do that?! Do you know the pain you caused?”

Wiping away your last tear, he’s glad you think this was funny.

“Sorry Lele. Just wanted to see how long you would last. I didn’t expect you to get so sulky and start ignoring me.”

Chenle scoffs, feigning offense.

“I was not sulking.” He defended but now you were the one staring back at him.

“Chenle… you’re literally wearing a hoodie that says I hate people. You were sulky.”

#nct dream smut #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #chenle smut #chenle x reader #chenle imagines #zhong chenle smut #zhong chenle x reader #nct dream blurbs #nct dream scenarios #nct dream headcanons #nct dream

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marmie-noir · 24 days

Text

Magic Mike Audition

TW: A real jerk of a customer, minor injuries, I feel like shirtless Mitch is a warning? Nothing crazy this time ya'll.

Per usual not edited, please forgive any mistakes but I had written this by hand and then typed it up.

Also, if you were the human who said something about Sunny wearing Mitch's clothes, this is obviously inspired! I can't find the note/info in my activity because of the boop madness but TYSM!!

I glanced up as Ann approached, a small frown out of place with her normally chipper attitude. “What?” I asked, straightening with a stack of dirty plates balanced on one hand, glasses in the other. Our bus boy had called off and it had been super busy, Mitch barely even getting out from behind the bar to help us out on the floor. At least the tips were nice if nothing else, the people seeing how we were swamped with two waitresses, no buser, and one bartender.

“Guy at 10 is an ass.” She muttered, looking over her shoulder. I followed her gaze and spotted a middle aged man mean mugging her. “What is his problem?” I asked, glancing back at her as we walked to the kitchen together. She began punching an order into the POS screen back there while I cleared the plates I had brought back, lining them up in the sturdy plastic tray prepping to be washed. The young dishwasher gave me a thankful smile and I returned it. He was a nice kid Mitch had just taken on, sweet by shy.

“Says he hates redheads.” Ann snipped, the sound of her nails hitting the POS screen a loud tapping noise in the kitchen. I frowned, seeing that she was very clearly a loud and proud redhead, her pretty hair pinned out of her face but in no way hidden. “Want me to take him?” I offered. I didn’t really mind difficult customers and if his issue really was redheads then problem solved.

She glanced at me, fingers pausing over the poor screen she had been abusing moments before. “You sure?” I gave a small shrug. “Sure, why not. You’ve had a few jerks today, share the love and all that.” Her grin was immediate. “You are an angel. You hear that, Keller? Sunny is a real angel!”

Hearing her say his name I looked back to find Mitch was in the kitchen at the pick up window getting a few orders for his customers at the bar. He paused, glancing between myself and Ann before sending me a half smile. “I know.” He said, grabbing the plates full of food. “But why do you think she is?”

Ann gave me an amused look, always a little entertained that Mitch was never shy about complimenting me. “Because,” She said, wrapping up the last of her order, the few final clicks of her nails on the screen sounding somehow more satisfied. “She’s jumping on one massive asshole grenade.” Flashing me one last smile Ann breezed out of the kitchen, obviously lighter now that she had been relieved of table 10.

“Darlin’.” Mitch said, a plate balanced on each hand, looking down at me but giving nothing away. “Explain.” “Table 10 told Ann he doesn’t like redheads so I’m gonna take it from her.” I said, smiling at him with a little ‘shoo’ motion. “I’m a big girl, cowboy. That food is gonna get cold if you keep standing here pesterin me.” “Sunny.” “Mitch.” I said his name with a smile on my lips. “You can see me from the bar. Now git.” “You tell ‘im girl.” Charlie called from over the pit grill, making me laugh as I left the kitchen as well.

Ann of course had been right. This guy was an absolute dick. A whole fucking bag of them really. Not only was he rude, but he was also picky, a tragic combination in a human. His beer had to have three orange slices, three, he had repeated at least six times while I write it down with the patience of a saint. His fried pickles had to be extra crispy, and his ribs had to be drowning in sauce. He spoke in a condescending, slow tone, pausing to ensure I wrote down every one of his words as if they were scripture. And the douche canoe made sure to let me know that he had absolutely no issues sending food back. Shocker.

I went to the back to grab the pickles when they came up, dropping them at his table before checking in with my other tables as I was covering half the dining area. He didn’t kick up a fit so I thought I was in the clear.

I was wrong.

I heard Charlie hit the little bell that let us know that some food was in the window. Knowing mine was up next I went to the back and spotted what could only be described as a plate of bar-b-que sauce, ribs barely visible with the amount of sauce. The plates had a raised edge so quiet a bit was on there, but he had been very insistent he wanted them swimming and those ribs were damn near doing laps.

I grabbed the plate carefully and the other plate with his sides, as they obviously couldn’t go with the ‘swimming’ ribs. “Thanks Charlie!” I called as I walked out, beelining to table 10.

I slid the plates before him with a friendly smile, not betting on a tip but trying to still be polite. Glancing up I noticed his beer with his three orange slices was nearly gone and I paused. “Would you like ano-” “What is this?” He cut me off, looking down at the plate at what I would personally call bar-b-que soup at this point. “Oh,” I said, brushing off his interruption. “Those would be your ribs, and I had your sides put on another plate. Does it not look right?” I asked, knowing full well this was exactly what he ordered.

“Do you think this is funny?” He snapped, eyes lifting to focus on me now, clearly not pleased. “Do I look like I’m laughing?” I asked, looking down at him as my hands rested on my hips. I was polite to a point, didn’t mind working with customers on their weird requests, but this guy was just the absolute worst. I was kind, but I was no doormat. “You ordered exactly what is in front of you. If something looks wrong I can fix it, but you’ve got to tell me.” His face turned a shade of red I’d never seen, skin blotchy with his brows pinching together. He slowly stood, glaring down at me before doing something I hadn’t been prepared for.

Putting his hand under the lip of the plate the asshole flicked it towards me, the lake of sauce and ribs splattering against my front as the plate fell to the floor. It shattered loudly, the ribs falling next as I stood there. The sauce was hot, not to the point of it being dangerous, but it didn’t feel pleasant. “Oh no.” I heard someone say but I was already moving.

“Alright asshole, come here.” I growled, hands falling into fists as I went to swing. A cool hand wrapped around my upper arm, stopping me mid strike and I wrestled against Ann’s hold. Luckily for this asshole Ann was scrappy, stronger than she looked, and she began to pull me away from the jerk who looked far too smug. “Let me- Ann! Let me go!”

“Let Mitch handle this one, Sugar.” She whispered to me, pulling me to the back. I looked back at the asshole of a customer only to see him getting literally dragged out to the parking lot by Mitch whose face reminded me of thunder clouds right before a violent storm.

“God damnit.” I cursed under my breath, marching to the back without a fight as the target of my rage was out of sight. Ann followed after me, a little like a nervous bird fluttering about for a few moments before finally settling on trying to get some sauce off my front with a handful of rags. There was just way too much, I felt it smear on my skin, the sweet smokey scent filling my senses. But it gave her something to do, and distracted me, irritated I hadn’t even gotten a punch in.

There was a tense few moments of Ann basically smearing still warm sauce on my shirt before she glanced up. “M’sorry, Sunny.” She murmured, bright eyes dropping back down to the mess she was really only making worse with her efforts. Her tone and expression sucked the anger right out me. I deflated, a long sigh pulling from me before I shook my head. “Ann, no. Hey.” I gave her arm a squeeze, thankfully not leaving any smears on her. Someone had to be able to handle tables while I got cleaned up, not both of us could be 90% sauce after all. “That guy was gonna be a jerk no matter what. That isn’t your fault, okay? It’s fine. I’m not hurt I’m just… sauced.” I admitted, nose scrunching slightly at the unpleasant feeling.

“Perfect good waste of my sauce, too.” Charlie chimed in, sounding grumpy. Ann and I exchanged a look before cracking up. “What? It is!” Mitch walked in, hands fisted at his sides, pausing in surprise to find Ann and I both laughing. I’m sure he had expected to have to come in and handle a demon (me), but really nothing bad had happened. Least he didn’t grab my ass. Seeing us both unharmed and apparently in good spirits he moved closer. “Ann, tables.” He ordered, still a bit tense.

“On it boss.” She said, winking at me before handing me the sauce smeared rags and heading back out to the dining area. Mitch didn’t look away from me, taking in the mess that I was and the way Ann had certainly not helped. “C’mon.” He said, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards his office.

I followed after him, careful not to accidentally bump into him or the walls. The moment the door was closed Mitch reached out and plopped me down on the edge of his desk with no warning. The feeling of his hands on my hips, lifting and then lowering me had my eyes widening slightly and I looked up at him.

Before I could react or say anything he spoke first. “You okay, darlin’?” He asked, hand lifting and thumb brushing against my cheek. I felt something smear and knew that I had sauce there too.

“M’okay.” I murmured quietly, looking up at him. “Sauce was a little hot but not too bad. I’m mostly mad.” I admitted. That got me a half smile which was a vast improvement.

His fingers lingered on my cheek a moment before falling to the hem of my shirt. “Course you are fine, what was I thinking?” He muttered mostly to himself, amused as he started to peel off my shirt. Mitch was careful, ensuring that the shirt didn’t get anything into my hair or smear it on my skin more than it already was. I let him knowing I would have struggled and made a larger mess. Plus, there was no saving the shirt with how drenched it was.

He tossed the shirt into the bin and it made a spat noise that had me frowning. Together the two of us cleaned the sauce with Mitch getting most of it, grabbing the package of baby wipes Ann kept in her cubby for emergencies. She swore they were the best make up removal wipes ever but hadn’t tested it myself. Worked wonders of bar-b-que sauce though.

‘At least I wore a plain bra.’ I thought, thankful that the simple black bra wasn’t in danger of being ruined. If one of my cute pale ones had gotten sauced I would have been pissed. Mitch gave me one more once over and I noticed that some of my skin was a little pink and sensitive. Guess the sauce was hotter than I had felt. I wasn’t too bad though, more annoying almost than anything, a dull pain. Mitch’s touch was unbelievably soft though, fingertips glossing over my skin gently as he helped to clean me up. It was nice, and while I wouldn’t voluntarily step in the way of flying plates in the future, I didn’t mind getting this kind of treatment from the man looming over me. On his desk. The very desk where he had me falling apart just last week.

As if reading my thoughts Mitch’s eyes slid up from the middle to meet mine, the zing of awareness coloring my cheeks slightly. He let out an amused little exhale, lips quirking up, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he took a little step back, tossing the used wipes into the bin as well before grabbing the first aid kit.

Without the heat of his larger form close I felt goosebumps race up my arms and I frowned, glancing around the office to see if I could find a spare shirt to borrow for the rest of my shirt. Normally Mitch had a few shirts with the bar's logo on it for people to buy, but hadn’t ordered any in a hot minute.

Mitch came back with the kit, settling the little metal box next to me on the desk before popping it open. “Lean back a little, I want to get some burn cream on your stomach.” He said, pulling a little packet of said cream from the kit, eyes on the pink skin of my abdomen. “I don’t need it, honest.” I tried to reassure him, not wanting him to go through all the fuss. Mitch reached out silently, his hand gentle as he pressed against my collarbone so I had to lean back, my arms holding more of my weight. “Humor me.” He said in that honey laced tone that had me nodding mutely, looking up at him all doe eyed. “Good girl.” He praised, voice low and sweet, the words rumbling from him into the small space between us. Then he began to apply the cream to any part of my skin that was looking a little irritated or pink. It was cold, I sucked in a little breath that had his pretty blue eyes jumping to my face to check in. Seeing that it hadn’t been a pain induced sound he smirked before continuing. His touch was gentle, borderline adoring even, rubbing little circles with a light pressure as the cream soaked into my skin. It hadn’t been a bad burn but it had been a little sore, almost like a sunburn. Still, I was touched that he insisted on taking care of them, as non-serious as they were.

His hands slid up my bare sides, palms a little rough on my skin in the best way, his thumbs rubbing soothing little circles along the way. I was smiling, watching his hands glide over my skin before glancing up at him through my lashes. This man either had no idea how handsome he was or he didn’t care, even now in this moment with those thick lashes and deep blue eyes. The way his hair fell a little from his hat, or the way his lips were just slightly parted as he concentrated on me. Focused. It was addictive, having his complete and total attention. “It does feel better.” I admitted, earning another smile from him. Mitch leaned in, giving me a chaste kiss before straightening, his warm hands leaving my skin. I nearly pouted, wanting to continue to be spoiled with his care and attention. Then he took me by surprise, reaching instead to undo the buttons of his flannel. I blinked at him, confused as to what exactly he was doing. He paused, seeing my confusion, but instead of answering the obvious question he flashed me that teasing smile before taking off his hat and sliding it onto my head, pulling the bill low so it blocked my vision. I adjusted it with a huff, uncaring it if mussed my hair. “Not that I don’t appreciate a good show,” I started, watching him undo the next few buttons a little slower than before. Flirt. “But wanna share why you’ve decided to join me in the shirtless club?”

“Well,” Mitch said, smiling as he shrugged the flannel off. He set it next to me on the desk, leaving him in that deliciously semi-fitted black t-shirt. The kind that hugged his biceps just right and showed the strength of him without being uncomfortable, the material soft and hanging just right on his form. God bless whoever invented that cut of shirt. “You aren’t working shirtless, much as I would appreciate the view, I don’t really want everyone else getting an eyeful.” “While I don’t disagree, that doesn’t explain why you are doing a Magic Mike audition right now.” He pulled his shirt off in one practiced move, grabbing the back of the collar and lifting it over his head and then off his arms. It left his hair a little mussed and he let out a laugh at my comment, his free hand reaching up to smooth his hair back once more. My mouth was so dry, eyes slightly wide as I took in just how absolutely sexy that was and how tempting he looked right now.

Seeing me at a loss for words made him a little smug and he reached out, attempting to put the shirt on me. “I-Mitch, I can wear a bar shirt, you don’t have to.” I stammered out, cheeks a little warm, meeting those familiar blue eyes that had warmed with humor and a slightly less innocent heat.

“Don’t have any, Sunshine.” He said, taking a half step closer, one of his thighs splitting mine and resting against the edge of the desk as he got even more in my space.

Christ but did he look good. Mitch wasn’t packed with muscle but he was still obviously strong. His arms were thick, body trim with very little extra weight, slightly softer in the middle. His pants were a little low too, that fancy silver buckle of his gleaming even in the low light of the office. I was far too distracted by the fine line of dark hair that traveled down his lower stomach to disappear into his jeans that when Mitch pulled his hat off my head and back onto his own I jumped, surprised. It had me blushing, looking up at him as he let out a pleased laugh, fingers brushing under my chin teasingly. “Darlin’, you keep looking at me like that and poor Ann is gonna have to run the bar alone.” He teased while a very real spark of heat lit in his dark eyes. I swallowed before letting out a huff, lifting my arms to allow him to pull his shirt over my head.

Mitch was bigger than me so the shirt was obviously oversized on me. The sleeves weren’t tight around my arms, and the material bunched near my hips. It wasn’t unflattering, it just didn’t look as good on me as it did on him. It smelled like cigarette smoke and bar food but under that I caught a whiff of his body wash and cologne, the fabric still a little warm from his skin. Something about that made my skin tingle, hand lifting to gently play with the collar of the shirt as I looked up at him.

“Little big but it’ll do.” He hummed, leaning back slightly to adjust his hat once more, blue eyes scanning over my figure to take in how I looked in his shirt. From his expression Mitch Keller really liked me in his shirt. A lot.

“Thanks.” I mumbled, distracted by the scent of him right under my nose. I watched him grab the flannel once more and slide his arms into the sleeves, starting to do the buttons up once more. I reached out with a grin, helping him do the buttons up, fingers brushing his skin with a faux innocence. Without the t-shirt under the flannel a small patch of his chest hair was visible. It felt naughty for some reason, the little bit of previously hidden skin peaking out of the collar of his shirt. It didn’t help that he rolled up the sleeves to his elbows.

God, I was a lucky lady.

Watching him roll up his sleeves unashamed I caught sight of something out of place and frowned, reaching out to gently grab at his right hand. Lifting it up so I could see better in the garbage lighting of the office my eyes lifted to his. Mitch’s knuckles were bruised, a few slightly split open. Clearly from when he’d dragged that jerk out to the parking lot. Not that I’d guessed they’d had a civil conversation, but seeing physical proof of what Mitch was willing to do for me? It made the butterflies in my stomach fill up my whole body and I felt like warm butter, ready to melt if he so much as touched me.

“Thank you.” I said softly, pressing a small kiss to the back of his hand, ever mindful of his injuries. “For always saving me.”

“Y’don’t need saving, Sunny.” He responded, voice low and warm. “But I’m glad I get to.” I smiled at that, holding his hand in one of mine while the other dug around the first aid kit. “Lemme patch you up and then we can both go save Ann.”

“Alright, Darlin’. Whatever you say.”

More Mitch and Sunny here

#fanfic #mitch keller #garrett hedlund #tulsa king #mitch keller fanfiction #female oc #garrett hedlund fanfiction #Sunny and Mitch

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wolfverse-stories · 8 months

Text

It's the end of the world as we know it (And I'm not fine)

(Reverse Robins / Zombie au)

Chapter 4

"West get up," Damian said softly kicking Wally in the shoulder.

"Good morning to you too" Wally grunted pushing himself off the ground. Everyone else was already awake gathering everything into the bags.

"We need to get moving" Damian urged as Wally got to his feet.

"Okay," Wally nodded gathering the rest of the stuff.

"I'll carry" Cass offered looking over at Dick.

"No I'm fine" He smiled holding his elephant "I can walk just like everyone"

"K" Cass smiled giving her younger brother a pat on the head.

In Gotham

Tim stood on a large building looking down at the streets below. The infected were everywhere. One mistake today and he was a goner. He shook his head clearing away those thoughts. He would not fail, he needed to get to that cave no matter what. Tim swung overhead moving as quickly as he could reaching the end of the city limits. The problem was getting to the cave. There were no buildings he could swing from meaning he'd have to touch down.

"Now or never" Tim muttered to himself slipping down a fire escape. Luckily the Zombies seem too preoccupied feasting to notice as he moved quietly down the street towards the entrance of the bat cave. A click went off as he opened the hatch catching the swarm's attraction. Tim quickly jumped inside closing the door behind him. He let out a breath of relief once the door clicked shut, only to realize that he wasn't safe in here either.

Meanwhile

The group had stopped by a Small spring to wash off and get a drink. Steph was busy washing to mud and blood out of her hair while Cass watched Dick play around in the water. Damian sat in the shade keeping watch. Wally sat next to him watching the water rush down the rocks.

"You need to eat," Damian said pushing a bag of food toward him.

"I already ate" Wally protested pushing the bag back towards Damian.

"Not enough I see you sneaking food onto everyone else plates," Damian said meeting his gaze.

"I'm fine, it does you guys more good than me" he argued looking away "I'm just not that hungry"

"West you're a speedster" Damian frowned "You can't afford to be giving away your food"

"I'm not going to let the rest of you starve because of my stupid metabolism" Wally glared at the ground.

"We're fine" Damian lied pushing the bag back to Wally "Now eat, or I'm going to force this down your throat"

"Fine," Wally said taking a piece out of the bag and slowly eating it. After a few seconds, he started to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Damian asked tilting his head.

"Just think back to when you were Robin, if you had tried to make me eat something I would have been 90% sure it was poisoned" Wally smiled.

"Shut up and eat" Damian glared.

In Gotham

Tim raised his gun shooting at the corpses. Trying to ignore the twisted feeling in his gut, these had once been his friends and family. He just kept shooting them down like they were just average street trash. No amount of therapy was going to fix this. When the smoke cleared there was one Zombie left standing.

Roy Harper, his best friend. The guy who was always crashing on Tim's couch. The guy who helped bring him back from the edge, who was supposed to be the best man at his wedding.

"I'm sorry" Tim closed his eyes pulling the back trigger.

"Grrrr" the Zombie lunged forward as Tim released the trigger.

"Bang" He didn't have to open them to know that the bullet had hit its mark the blood splattered all over his jacket was proof enough. Tim ripped his jacket off tossing it to the side as he collapsed to his knees.

"I'm sorry" Tears ran down his cheeks as he buried his face in his hands "I'm so sorry"

Meanwhile

"You need to get some sleep" Wally urged walking up next to Damian "I'll take watch"

"As if you look like you could pass out at any minute" Damian scuffed trying to hide his concern.

"I'm fine" Wally rolled his eye "You however need to get some sleep"

"And why is that" Damian challenged.

"Because you're our leader you need to keep your mind sharp, besides you can't scold someone for not taking care of themselves, then turn around and do the same thing" Wally crossed his arms. Damian wanted to argue so bad but the urge to sleep was even greater.

"Fine" Damian gave in "but wake me up in two hard"

"Whatever you say big bird" Wally responded with absolutely no intention of waking him up because if Damian wasn't putting up a fight he really needed sleep.

Prev. / Next

#fanfic #batfam #tim drake #damian wayne #jason todd #reverse robins #reverse batfam #zombies #wally west #stephanie brown

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dairy-farmer · 2 years

Note

What do you think about Tim being the cutest little pudgy baby boy when he first comes to Bruce? Like he’s always been a lil chubby? Soft little pocht tummy, chubby cheeks and a lil hint of a second chin, thick thighs and arms and chubby hands and the perkiest little tits?

Like maybe Bruce sees him and decides this kid’s *his* now, he’s gotta protect him, so Tim never becomes Robin? He becomes like this kid who Bruce dotes on, showers with love and attention, who never walks anywhere because Bruce always carries him on his hip, always has a hand rubbing and feeling his pudge — whether his tummy or tits or thicc ass) — and he always misses his lips, always hand-feeds him, etc? Haha just some mild feedism maybe 😅😅

THIS IS SO CUTEEE 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 YES YES TO ALL OF THIS ALL OF YOU ANONS HAVE THE MOST BRILLIANT IDEAS!!!!!!!

tim having the softest and sweetest hands and pudgy cheeks.his eyes practically sparkle and bruce can't help but stare at him. he's so delightfully rosy-cheeked with full lips and long lashes. he's soft, bruce can just imagine touching him and having his fingers sink into his fleshy plushness. his lips are shiny and his nails are neatly trimmed and painted with a clear polish. tim has the prettiest mouth bruce has ever seen, a perfect cupid's bow and naturally pink lips.

bruce can't help but watch, enchanted as tim eats the little cakes from his lunchbox. soft crumbs scatter on his lips and he neatly licks them up with a swipe of his tongue. tim's haircut suits his roundface, bangs curling near his brows and soft strands kissing his neck and cheeks. both dick and jason had been hardened, muscular children.

dick from his work as an acrobat and jason from the strength needed to survive on the streets. the batmobile's tires hadn't been light and jason had boosted three by the time bruce caught him.

tim was soft and pudgy in the way kids were supposed to be. tim was born into privilege and it shows from the softness of his thighs and stomach. bruce wants to touch him, pinch his cute sides but he knows that might bring tim to tears. he's a sensitive boy. bruce can see it in the way he stutters and looks down. he can tell from the way tim wears big baggy sweaters and loose jeans. insecurity brought on from the cruel mouths of children that don't understand what a gorgeous little thing tim is. he's practically made of sugar, that's how mouthwateringly sweet he is.

bruce feels like a creeper when he watches tim. offering him lollipops, candies, and chocolates from his utlitiy belt. he watched tim unwrap them with his delicate little hands and press them between his sweet rosepetal lips. bruce loves the soft, quiet sounds of his chewing. the sounds are wet and bruce imagines the heat inside of tim's mouth, strings of saliva stretching across inside him as he swallows to his soft tummy.

tim isn't robin material. bruce doesn't want him to be robin knowing it would make him hard and rough. tim needs to be soft he needs to stay soft.

bruce telling tim he's not cut out for robin brings him to near tears, his bottom lip trembling and eyes filling with tears. his body hunches over in insecurity and he stutters "i-i can change, i can g-get-"

and bruce rushes to stop him, to dry his tears. he tells tim how perfect he is, how soft and lush he is. how being robin would change that. he needs to stay like that, just like that.

tim comes around often to check on bruce. to see if there's anything he can do to help him get better. so he keeps bruce company.

they drink tea together while bruce works. alfred brings down a tray of cookies and tim quietly nibbles on half. he eats like a gentle mouse, soft bites and both hands holding onto it.

he eats half the plate, exactly half. and he squirms beside bruce, nursing his hot, half finished tea.

when bruce takes his break he picks up one of alfred's 'biscuits' and carefully breaks it into pieces, pressing a piece to tim's mouth which is parted in surprise and staring at him.

slowly, hesitantly, tim's mouth opens and bruce presses the baked good on tim's tongue and watches him chew with little motions of his jaw.

that's how it is. and bruce does it until every cookie on the plate is gone.

one time, bruce picks tim up from school and they make a stop at a bakery that bruce had seen tim looking up for his friend ives' birthday.

bruce buys a dozen and in a moment of weakness, picks up the frosting from one of the little cakes on his finger and offers it to tim.

tim's eyes widen slightly, blue gaze darting between bruce's finger and face before slowly leaning in.

bruce witholds the shiver that wants to race through him at the feeling of tim's warm, wet mouth taking his finger in.

at the first taste of sugar tim lets out a hum of delight and both his hands drift up and hold bruce's hand still so he can take his finger in deeper.

bruce's throat tightens and his breath hitches as he watches tim lick him clean.

he thinks of how tim would look, how he would feel if he covered his cock is sweet buttercream frosting.

tim pops off with a wet sound and satisfied 'ahhh'.

he licks his lips and smiles with his sweet sinful mouth.

"it tastes like ice cream!" he remarks with happiness. "it melted right in my mouth!"

bruce swallows thickly and hands tim the rest of the box to hold and desperately hopes they will keep his attention enough that he won't notice the prominent bulge in bruce's slacks.

bruce tries to resist from touching tim. he knows that's a step too far. but one day they're walking and tim trips over a little hump in the carpet and bruce catches him.

his hands slip under tim's winnie the pooh sweater and feel his warm, soft, velvety skin. the back of bruce's hand brush the soft edge of tim's little tits. his fingers dig into the soft of him and bruce has to do everything to maintain his composure when he helps tim up.

tim is blushing a furious red and he's near tears as he stutters apologies.

bruce lets him go when he darts away.

his hands are burning with the phantom feeling of tim in his arms. the memory haunts bruce, it follows him everywhere, it colors his interactions with tim until one day- one day bruce, reaches out.

he wants to touch tim, just a little, just a bit.

bruce is injured and on bedrest. tim is on nurse duty and trying to get bruce to drink his medicine. he looks so sweet in his thick, knitted sweater. and bruce he just...wants...a taste.

tim jolts at the hand bruce rests on his thigh, staring down at it with wide eyes. but then bruce takes his medicine.

so he lets it be.

bruce's thumb strokes tim's thigh, he presses his fingers in and grips that soft bit of tim.

bruce imagines feeling the rest of tim. his soft stomach, his tender tits, his rear. but he also thinks of other parts of tim.

the warmth of his mouth and if his saliva would taste as sweet as the rest of him. he think of tim's cunt, if it will be as pink as the rest of him, as plush and soft as he is. he imagines pressing his fingers in and watching as they're swallowed in just like tim's mouth had done.

bruce gets braver. tim gets used to his touch and at some point, bruce starts carrying him everywhere.

like tim's a living teddybear, warm and comforting.

tim warns that he's heavy but bruce brushes him off and picks him up.

tim barely weighs anything to him.

"it's like picking up a daffodil." bruce remarks idly as he rubs his cheek together with tim's fullness.

tim is a sweet boy, like a tender soft caramel. he does not belong in bruce's hard, cruel world.

he needs to remain as he is.

soft. pretty. angelic.

he needs to stay just like that.

for bruce's sanity.

but if bruce were honest.

he stared down at tim squirming on his thigh, the heat between his legs evident the harder bruce presses into the seam of him. bruce is massaging one of tim's tits in his hand, fingers rolling the little nipple and pinching it into a peak. tim always has the best, softest parts.

if bruce were honest. he lost his sanity a long time ago.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

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mrkis · 1 year

Note

So I have this story I want to share cause sometimes and opinion from a "stranger" can be more helpful. 😅

Basically, yesterday I received a message from an ex-colleague of mine (havent seen/talked to him in over 2 years). I had shared a funny real about "manifesting a sugar daddy" this year and he reacted to it and then asked if I find one to ask him where he can find a sugar mama, and I totally jumped on his joke and replied, however, I didnt expect for any further communication but man did he keep going. He kinda started flirting to which I started hyperventilating cause I havent spoken to him in years and it was all happening so damn fast..😵‍💫 He started complimenting me and saying I have what it takes to catch a guy's attention, that I cook well and its a full package deal (I have brought pancakes and brownie at work before and he has eaten it). And it was both flatering but also confusing. As you can tell he was making a move on me and was very clear with his intention for a hook up, cause he kept saying how he wouldnt turn me down if I asked and what not.

The crazy part comes here - he asked me how long has it been for me since the last time I had sex since I told him I dont do hook ups and I kinda lied and said that its been 5 years since I have been single for this long, but the thing is I actually still have my V card at age 25 ... 🫣 I have some experience, like I have went 2nd base with my ex (no blowjob tho) but still back then I didnt feel comfortable with him to go all the way so nothing ever really happened.

Dont get me wrong, Im not ashamed of being a virgin, but I am tired of the fear of admitting it to dudes, cause society has made it to be a bad thing when its not. Anyway, you can imagine how shocked he was at that and he even asked if at least I "help myself with the stress" and obviously I do, so there is that, but despite me saying I cant do one night stands because of this moral boundary he kinda kept going on how I should try it at least so that I dont regret it later in life and mentioned he wanted to "make me an offer". To that I said he is kinda late, cause well we dont even live in the same city anymore (I moved) and I also said that we can meet up for coffee but I cant give him what he wants from me. He was respectful of it, thank god, but my brain is my own villain. I now overthink shit and feel like I made a good and bad decision at once, cause horny me really wants to have sex and mind you I have always been sexually attracted to him. I had a crush on him for a month back in 2020 which was awoken because of a sex dream I had. I think he also had a crush on me later that year cause he kinda sorta asked me out to dinner during work but I thought it was a joke and reacted to it like a fucking loser (in my defense I was also on a call with a client /call center job). So we do have history, I also think we've always had this sexual energy and frustration but neither acted on it until well yesterday.

Moral me is saying I did the right choice, cause I want my first time to be with someone special and to mean sth, not be a hook up. Horny me is mad cause I was basically offered dick on a silver plate and said no ... 😩🙃

Sorry to drop this on you Cas, but I feel so comfortable sharing this with you 😅 I guess this blog is my safety place in so many aspects. ❤️

Also, how you doing, lovely? ❤️

for starters, his approach was kinda odd straight off the bat. don’t get me wrong, i’ve had conversations with people i haven’t talked to in awhile abt random shit and joked around with memes and whatnot, but the fact that you haven’t spoken in two years and he went into this conversation asking such personal questions rubs me the wrong way completely.

compliments are great, sometimes you cant go wrong with them and they do make you feel great, but the fact he was complimenting you just for a potential hookup is where it gets gross. there was…. no need, whatsoever. it shocks me how he was moving the conversation so fast lmao.

him asking abt the last time you’ve had sex is so…. eh. ew. sorry. it is. like, he doesn’t need to know this!!! at all!!! and it’s completely ok to be a virgin at whatever age. society shouldn’t shame people who are, it’s so silly. it has nothing to do with them. you shouldn’t be afraid of admitting it either, but of course that’s easier said than done. but trust me when i say that people (men, in your case) actually don’t give a shit abt whether you’re a virgin or not. you may think they do due to how society treats it, but they do not care. before i lost my virginity and was talking to this guy i liked, i had to admit that i was a virgin because i was scared of our relationship going further and that he might expect something from me. and he just looked at me like 🤨 and went “that’s ok? idc, it doesn’t bother me”. they don’t care! i promise! and if they do, they can go fuck themselves

“help yourself with the stress” what are these questions he’s asking😐 im so baffled rn. truly. this is unbelievable. and hold on….. tf does he mean abt “you might regret it later in life”??? what??? not experiencing a one-night stand??? tf??? why would he think you might regret something like that when you’ve made it perfectly clear you’re not into stuff like that🤨 crazy fucking behaviour.

personally, i think you made a good decision. because even though that turned on, horny side of you is wanting to have sex, that’s not exactly the real you, yk? you, normally, just wants to wait for that special someone that you connect with and that’s completely ok. you can wait for as long as you please. you control it. nobody else, please remember that.

and don’t feel sorry abt dropping this on me. i’m happy i can be some sort of safe space. you, and anyone else who is comfortable, can always come to me and vent/rant. i truly don’t mind. i’m all ears🖤

and i’m ok!!! i’ve been in my head recently and overthinking my own stuff and putting myself in bad moods but that’s my fault completely😭 i’m hoping that this new therapist i’m getting will be of help because when i get comfortable, they’re gonna hear some shit😭😭

#‣ [asks]#jaehyuns-adorable-dimples ⛧

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batmans-cheerleader · 2 years

Text

best laid plans

includes: stephanie & duke & cass & damian, stephanie & bruce

wc: 2.3k | rated t | m.list | posted on ao3

a/n: this was so fun to write ngl

please reblog (⋅⃘˕̭⋅⃘)

"So, what’s your plan?” Duke asks, and Stephanie returns her attention to her plan, which she’d painstakingly come up with, making first and second drafts until her wastebasket had been filled with papers.

“What’s one thing that Bruce hates?” she poses, and everyone thinks for a moment.

“Evildoers?” Duke offers.

“Superman,” Damian says decisively (and wrongly, Stephanie notes).

“People messing with his stuff,” Cass says, and again, this is why Stephanie loves her!

“Exactly!” she says. “To Cass, not the rest of you. Bruce can’t stand when his carefully organized stuff is out of place. Bruce keeps his Batsuit in his case, does he not? All we need to do is get down there, get into the case, spray paint the suit, and make it seem like it was Tim, Jay, and Dick.”

“I have an idea,” Stephanie says, climbing up on the dining room table, like a queen holding court. Duke, Cass, and Damian, her loyal subjects (the people in the room), barely spare her a glance before going back to their breakfasts. “Guys,” she groans, stealing a piece of toast off of Cass’ plate, “listen up.”

“Fine,” Damian acquiesces, somehow managing to look down his nose at her, even though he has to look up to see her. “What is this ‘idea’? Surely not another foolish scheme to get us in trouble with Father?”

Stephanie scoffs. “When have I ever got us in trouble with Bruce?”

Three pairs of eyes side-eye her.

“Okay, whatever. But no, if everything goes right, it’ll get Tim, Jason, and Dick in trouble with him.” She sprays crumbs a little as she says this, and Duke wordlessly gives her a napkin, which she thanks him profusely for. “Remember that time we got blamed for stealing the Batmobile when it was them? I’ve been biding my time, coming up with a great revenge plan, and I think I finally have it.”

“I’m in,” Cass says, no questions asked. This is why Stephanie loves her, and she says as much.

“I had forgotten about that,” Damian says slowly. “We suffered under that grounding for entirely too long. I have bleach stains on my favorite shirt because of Alfred’s tyrannical rule.”

“Oh yeah, you were forced to clean the bathrooms, weren’t you?” Stephanie asks, and Damian wrinkles his nose.

“It was terrible.”

She shudders delicately, thankful she’d been given the animals. It had been gross, but not nearly that gross.

“What’s one thing that Bruce hates?” she poses, and everyone thinks for a moment.

“Evildoers?” Duke offers.

“Superman,” Damian says decisively (and wrongly, Stephanie notes).

“People messing with his stuff,” Cass says, and again, this is why Stephanie loves her!

“Exactly!” she says. “To Cass, not the rest of you. Bruce can’t stand when his carefully organized stuff is out of place. Remember when Tim accidentally filed that case in the wrong place?”

Tim had been morose for weeks afterward.

“That sucked,” Duke says, and Damian waves a hand.

“Drake deserved it. Everyone knows they’re sorted alphabetically by last name, not first. It was a novice mistake.”

“My fault,” Cass says suddenly, and they all turn to look back at her. She smiles devilishly, eyes glinting. “I borrowed the file. Put it back wrong. But no one knew, and Tim was the last person before me to have it.”

“You’re evil,” Damian says, approval clear in his voice. “It is no less than Drake deserves. If he were any sort of true detective, he would have swept for fingerprints and checked the camera feeds.”

“He did,” Cass replies, “but I am too skilled. The most skilled.”

No one argues because they all know it’s true.

“Anyway, back to my plan,” Stephanie says, calling all attention back to her. “Bruce keeps his Batsuit in his case, does he not? All we need to do is get down there, get into the case, spray paint the suit, and make it seem like it was Tim, Jay, and Dick.”

“And how would we do that?”

Stephanie smirks. “One: I’ve been collecting their fingerprints for months now, so it’ll be easy to transfer them to the case and suit. Not enough to be suspiciously obvious, but the edge of a palm here. The barest hint of a thumb there. Two: Jason threatened to do it about a year ago, something Bruce doubtlessly remembers, as he increased security on the case shortly after it was brought up. Jason has probably long forgotten about it but there’s no way Bruce has. Three: I bought the spray paint using one of Tim’s secret cards that he think’s Bruce doesn’t know about and had it delivered to one of Dick’s safehouses. He’ll never suspect it was us.”

“And how do you know Bruce is aware of Tim’s card?” Damian asked, arms crossed. Stephanie detects the barest hint of respect in his voice and preens.

“About a month ago, I ‘accidentally’ revealed it to Bruce,” Stephanie says, complete with air quotes and all. “Well, not that card, but a different one. I knew if Bruce suspected Tim had more he’d go digging them up, and I’m sure he’s found it by now.”

“The cameras,” Cass says, and Stephanie winks at her.

“I already have that covered. Babs owes Duke here a favor and I was hoping-” she puts her hands together, blinking prettily at Duke “-that you'd be willing to use it for this.”

“Gordon owes you?” Damian asks, perhaps in awe. “How in the world did that happen?”

Stephanie and Duke share a look, remembering their promise to never reveal the exact events of that night.

“Unimportant,” Duke says firmly. “But Steph, I don’t know if I should use my favor on this. What if I need it in the future for something more important?”

Stephanie gasps. “More important? Duke Reginald Thomas, you take that right back!”

“Not my middle name,” Duke interjects, but Stephanie is undeterred from her passionate and rousing speech.

“Do you not remember how Dick would laugh as we worked out butts off? How Jason would go and make a mess of a room you’d just vacuumed? I think he bought sunflower seeds specifically to spill them! Do you guys not feel anger in your veins when you think about how Tim scolded us for doing something so reckless when it was his grubby little hands that were on the wheel of the Batmobile, not ours? How can you stand for this? We must get back at them, regain our dignity and honor! Who’s with me!”

Cass claps politely and Stephanie does a few mock bows, still seated atop the table.

“I suppose I’ll do it,” Duke says, but Stephanie can see the fire she’s lit inside of him, because she’s the coolest and absolutely the best for motivational speeches. Hey, maybe she should see if Bruce will start letting her do them before they go out on missions. That would be awesome.

“I’m in,” Cass says again, and Damian nods.

“I am in as well. They shall feel the burn of our wrath when they are the ones forced to wipe down the toilet seat!”

Stephanie shudders again, and Cass makes a disgusted face. Their bathroom is nowhere near as nasty as the boys’ shared one is, something she’s incredibly grateful for.

“Great!” Stephanie cheers, clapping her hands together. “Let’s go somewhere to flesh out the rest of these details where we can really plan! To your Titans base, Damian!”

“What?” Damian squawks as Stephanie ungracefully climbs off of the table. “Why my base?”

“Best place,” Cass says, and Stephanie beams. Damian, knowing he is beaten, merely sighs, gathering his plate with an air of long-suffering about him.

A few days later finds them going over the plan one last time with Babs, crowding around her chair in the Clocktower.

“You all know your jobs?” Stephanie asks, and receives four nods.

“Yes,” Damian says. “I am to distract father, pretending Grayson put me up to the task.”

“I’m making sure Jason, Dick, and Tim stay away from the cave,” Duke puts in. They had decided to do it on a night when they were home, maximizing risk, but minimizing the chances of any of them having an alibi. “Are you sure they’re not going to suspect me?”

“Oh, Duke,” Stephanie says, “they’re not going to have a clue.”

“Fingerprints,” Cass volunteers, “and helping with the case.”

“I’ll scrub footage as you go and help with access to the case as well,” Babs says, and Stephanie gives in to the urge to rub her hands together like a low-rate villain. Or her father.

“It’s all coming together,” she croons. “And I’ll be painting the Batsuit. I’ve got a suit to wear but underneath it will be Jason’s hoodie, and if traces of paint are accidentally found on it… well, that would be terrible for him!”

“Let’s do this,” Duke says, and they all nod.

After driving back to the manor (Bruce would track if they zeta-ed), they all split up. Babs had lent them some of her comms, and after Stephanie has gathered the clothes and things she needs, all hidden underneath a blanket she holds as part of her ruse, she puts it in, sounding off.

“Alright, everyone is in position,” Babs says, and Stephanie nods, even though no one except for Babs can see her.

“It’s go time.”

Passing Damian in the hall, they share a short look but otherwise disregarded one another, set on completing their parts. She stops in the kitchen for a snack, mentioning to Alfred her plan to hang out on the patio for a while, then goes back towards the direction of Bruce’s study, again passing Damian, who’s accompanied by Bruce. She scrubs a hand over Damian’s hair, taking care to make sure everything seems normal, but she’s not fully sure if the hiss he gives her is part of the act or not. Either way, it does the trick, allowing her to slip into the study once Bruce has rounded the corner.

Cass is already in the Batcave when she gets down there, carefully placing fingerprints in the pre-determined locations. Stephanie makes quick work of getting dressed, shaking the neon orange and green paint bottles with vigor. By the time she makes it to the case, Babs and Cass have already worked their magic and it’s easy for her to spray it down, using her non-dominant hand just in case. In case of what, she’s not sure, but she feels like Bruce would be able to determine what hand was used or something like that, just because it's Bruce.

“I’m done,” she whispers, to Cass and into her comm, hastily climbing out of the paint-speckled protection suit, taking care, to wipe the tiniest bit along the seam of Jason’s sleeve. “I’m going to put the hoodie in the laundry room then go to the patio.

“Okay,” Duke says quietly, “I’ve still got all of them with me.

“I’m still with father,” Damian confirms.

“And I’ll finish scrubbing data and footage,” Babs says, and Stephanie and Cass share a high-five. They’d pulled this off perfectly!

“I know you were behind this,” Tim mutters as Stephanie leans against the doorway, watching him apply new grout to the entryway tiles.

“Consider it payback,” Stephanie says, smug. “Did you really think I’d let the Batmobile thing go?”

Tim curses, low and long, and Stephanie gives him a little wave, skipping off into the house. Maybe she can find Dick or Jason and rub it in their faces too.

“Stephanie,” Bruce calls as she passes his study, and she turns, popping her head in with a smile.

“Yes, Bossman?”

“Shut the door.”

Stephanie refuses to be cowed as she shuts the door and drops into one of the seats, casual as can be. “What’s up?”

“I know you’re behind the painting of my suit,” he says, and it takes everything in her to not pale. Before she can argue, though, he holds up a hand. “I’m not going to punish you. Rather, I called you in to congratulate you. You pulled it off almost perfectly, and I can see that you’re improving leaps and bounds in your skills.”

“Almost perfectly?” Stephanie echoes, distraught. “No! I thought I had it all covered! What went wrong?”

Bruce’s mouth twitches like he’s trying to hide a smile and he pulls out a piece of paper. Stephanie instantly recognizes it as one of her earlier drafts of her plan, done up in purple glitter pen.

“I need to write my thoughts down,” she defends lamely, and Bruce slides her the paper. She crumples it in her pocket, inwardly chastising herself.

“Next time, destroy the evidence,” Bruce tells her. “Alfred found it when he was sorting trash from recycling.”

“God dammit!” she says, quietly but with a lot of feeling. “If you know it was me, then why aren’t you punishing me?”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says. “Do you really think I thought it was you who took out the Batmobile?”

“You knew?”

“Of course,” Bruce replies. “The boys were not nearly as careful as you were.”

“If you knew, then why did we get in trouble? It took forever to wash the smell of barn out of my clothes,” Stephanie whines, remembering having to clean Batcow’s stall.

“I knew you’d retaliate,” Bruce says simply, “and I wanted to see how you’d do. Stephanie, you blew this out of the water. I daresay I’d have no clue of the real culprits had I not found the plan itself. The skill and tenacity you displayed during this, as well as your ability to manage and coordinate a team, are on a level with some of the members of the JLA. I am supremely impressed.”

“Oh,” is all that she can manage. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Bruce says. “Now you’re free to go, and if you’re looking for Jason and Dick, well, I think Alfred put them to work out in the yard, spreading some of Batcow’s manure.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

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artemiseamoon · 1 year

Text

After this is Over (finale)

Slate, Walt, Sal, Calderoni & Joaquin

Pt:4 breaking point (finale)

Fic info and chapters | bonus chapter! All In | a03

Words: 4,598

Warnings: drama, depression, breakups

💫Gifs- Credit to gif makers 💫

This is the final chapter of the story. Chapter 5 will be a bonus chapter you can choose to read, or not read. I’m having post fic sadness. I love them and will miss them.I teared up making the Moodboards 😩

Like a farmer herding animals, Slate leads the guys into the kitchen. Once everyone is inside, she guides them to the table.

Sal takes a seat first, “This is going to be fun.” He rubs his left brow, then crosses his arms.

Walt hasn't said another word yet, but it's clear he's all riled up. After some hesitation, he drags a chair out, sits, then crosses his arms. The entire time his eyes rarely leave Calderoni. Walt draws in slow, steady breaths. Everything in him wants to attack Calderoni right now, go straight for the throat. To Walt's left, Sal's eyes jump from Walt to Calderoni, then back to Slate.

She points at the last remaining chair, to Walt's right, and shoots the Commandante a look. When Calderoni doesn’t sit, Slate sighs and motions to the table. He offers a slight eyebrow raise in response, then pours two fingers of Scotch at the bar. The bastard takes his time, and it's a reminder of just how much of a dick he could be.

Slate pinches her lips together, then says, "Will you hurry up?"

Calderoni glances over his shoulder at her, he smirks, "yes boss."

At the table, Sal and Walt exchange a look of mutual confusion. Once Calderoni's seated, Slate makes a quick trip to the fridge, then returns with two uncapped beers. She places one in front of Walt, the other before of Sal.

Still unsure of how to open this conversation, she stands opposite Walt, on the side of the table without a chair. Scrubbing her hands over her face, she tries to push past the panic rising inside of her. Lowering her hands, she glances at Walt, then Calderoni. The lofty expression on Calderoni's face is slight, almost easy to miss; but she sure as hell sees it, so does Walt.

Calderoni rests his arms on the table, then angles his body in Walt's direction, “You seem stressed Walt, how about a drink?"

Walt's chest rises and falls dramatically as he locks eye with the man. Walt clenches then unclenches his jaw, “You fuckin' live here or sumptin?”

Slate speaks up, “Dick move, Guillermo,”

Sal laughs, mainly because he has no idea what the fuck is going on. Sal trades a glance with Walt, then focuses on Slate, “We’re on a first name basis now?"

Slate has a glassy look in her eyes, like she's dissociating from the room. She doesn't respond, she can't - words aren't reaching her lips, her mind is running a mile a minute and it feels like her heart is about to jump out of her chest.

Ignoring the eyes on her, she grabs Calderoni's drink and chugs it back in one impressive gulp. As she lowers the glass, Calderoni grabs her arm and Walt starts to stand up.

Calderoni ignores Walt, and focuses on Slate, “It’s a weekday.” He spoke softly.

There's a familiarity between them that just doesn't sit right, with Walt or Sal.

“I know,” Slate removes his hand from her arm, “no way I’m getting through this sober. Just, bring the bottle over.”

He studies her for a second longer, then gets the bottle. He places it on the table between the two plates of now cold pasta. Slate stands behind Sal's chair and grips the back of it, she's still trying to find her words.

Sal glances at her, then breaks the silence. He points to the plates, “I can see we were disturbing something here.”

“People eat dinner, it’s not weird.” She argued.

Fuck, that doesn't help, she thought to herself. She's off her game tonight.

“Normally, no,” Walt replied as he looks at her, “you and this asshole bonding over pasta? That’s fucking weird.”

Slate takes a deep breath then releases it, “we have a lot to talk about. I just need to make sure this doesn't get violent- “she steps out of the room then returns with an empty shoe box, “guns, everybody. Now.”

Her eyes landed on Walt. Under the table his hand is hovering over his piece.

Walt narrows his eyes, then drags them up to hers, “why the fuck is he in your apartment, Slate?”

She groans then replies, "I love ya Breslin but put the fucking gun in the box, then I'll answer."

Sal stands and puts his inside first, while shaking his head disapprovingly. Slate thanks him silently, then holds the box in-between Walt and Calderoni again.

Walt doesn't budge, or break eye contact with Calderoni, “Him first.”

A sideways grin builds slowly on Calderoni's face. He stands and exits the room, then returns with his pistol. He places it in the box.

"Walt, for the love of god, put it in the box." Slate begs.

He glances at her, then places the gun inside.

"fuck me," she muttered then left the room with the box.

She returns and everyone is exactly how she left them, it's like being in the middle of a western standoff. Neither Walt nor Sal have touched their beers, but Calderoni is now casually enjoying his drink.

She addresses the room, "He's my guest, hence the food."

Walt directs his words at Calderoni, “I don’t know what game you’re playing. But I'ma find out." His eyes dart to Slates, "whatever the fuck is going on here you're being played Slate."

In an attempt to calm him, she stands closer to his chair and places her hand on his shoulder, “I’d know if I was being used. It’s not like that.”

Walt continues staring at her, “You’re smarter than this Slate.”

He can see his words don't land the way he intended. She retracts her hand, and he spots a faint grimace on her lips. "I’m not being used, Walt.”

Sal leans over the table, he locks eyes with Calderoni, “how's it feel? Walking out of that unscathed? You didn't lose shit, did you?" when the Commandante doesn't reply, Sal goes on, "it should have been you dying on that grass."

The last part pierces Calderoni's armor. He briefly clenches his hands, and then folds his arms across this chest.

Sal continues, “or should I start a bonfire, we can braid each other's hair, make friendship bracelets."

Calderoni slightly tilts his head to the side, his eyes darken. He takes a moment to choose his words, then says, "Believe what you want. I bet Walt's version of events is - unbiased.” A shadow of a smirk dances at the corners of his lips. Much to Walt’s disdain.

Calderoni chuckles and reaches for his glass. Walt suddenly shoots up from his seat and grabs Calderoni by the collar. The much larger man doesn’t budge.

Slate leaps forward and pulls Walt off of him. She grabs his left hand and drags him behind her to the hallway. They only take a few steps in when she stops. She boxes Walt in with her body, his back is pressed against the wall.

Slate grabs his face and looks into his eyes, "Walt, I need you to keep calm. I know this is confusing and I'm trying here - I am, but I'm fucking frozen right now I can't - I'm having a hard time even speaking let alone explaining all this."

Walt shakes his head, “Slate, what is this?”

“I told you, he’s my guest - we’re working some shit out, okay, about everything.”

“Workin' shit out?” Walt repeats the words with deep disappointment in his eyes and voice.

Slate lets go of his face; she wraps her arms around her body. She hates the way Walt is looking at her right now. And even through she's always, mostly, been honest, she's having a hard time admitting what her and the Commandante have been up to, especially to Walt. Not that she has to be explicit about it. She can see in his eyes that Walt is working it out. He's putting it all together for himself and its starting to make some kind of sense; while still being confusing as fuck at the same time.

When Walt speaks again, his voice is lower, almost broken, “why him?”

Slate swallows the massive lump in her throat. When she reaches for Walt's arm, he jerks it away. She lowers her voice and replies, “It wasn’t - it wasn’t planned -”

Walt's brows tense again, “I sure as hell hope not.” he pauses, the starts, “people do a lot of fucked up shit. After a while, you learn to expect it. But you - “Walt presses his lips together in a tight line then breaks eye contact,

“Walt - “

“Was it easy? Just - forgettin' about everything we lost down there? So you and that asshole could bond over spaghetti?”

It's a low blow.

Walt knows it. Slate knows it.

The moment he says it, he sees any hope she can fix this drain out of her. The look she gets on her face next is one he’s never seen before. The words he said out of anger come back to sting him, he regrets them. Walt wants to take them back. He can't make heads or tails of this situation, but he knows her, and he knows how banged up she is about Mexico.

Slate stares off in the direction of the kitchen. The way the light catches her eyes, he can see them moisten. Her lungs constrict, it's harder to breath now. Slowly shaking her head, she takes a step back from him.

“Wow," she meets his eyes, "I don’t deserve that, Walt."

Slate rushes past him and fetches her jacket and keys. She quickly slips her feet into her boots and laces them up.

“Fucking kill eachother, I don’t care.” Slate opens the door and slams it closed behind her.

In the other room, Sal drank his beer while staring at Calderoni, neither of them spoke. And in the hall, Walt and Slate were speaking so quietly they struggled to hear what was being said. The slamming of the door alerted them both. Sal was quickest to his feet and first to the hallway,

“What the fuck happened? Where’s Slate?" He asked.

Walt rested his hands on his hips and paces. His head slightly lowered. "She left."

Calderoni grabs Walt by the shoulders, whips him around and forces him to face him, “What did you do?”

Walt shoves him, though it does nothing, Calderoni doesn’t move. All Walt did was agitate him further.

Before Calderoni could throw a punch, Sal grabs him and shoves him away from Walt, then stands in between the them with outstretched arms. Sal understands Walts anger, but he also doesn’t want his friend to get hurt. Walt may have caught Calderoni off guard with a shove, but the larger man could easily knock him out with one punch.

“Cut this shit out!” Sal barked. His eyes fix on Calderoni “I hoped to never see your fucking face again, as much as I would love to blow a hole in it, we need to calm the fuck down, all of us - “he turns to Walt next, “beating each other up and destroying her apartment isn't going to do shit. Now grow the fuck up, both of you, “he lowers his arms, looking at one man, then the other. They're locked in a heated stare with each other, both catching their breath, “we need to find Slate.”

Calderoni readjusts his shirt, his eyes still blazing with anger, “Sal's right. We can deal with our shit later Breslin.”

Though he would love to tell Walt every single detail and watch him squirm, he keeps what's unsaid to himself. If Slate didn’t disclose it, he's not going to either. She’s upset, and hurt, and his first priority. He knows she can take care of herself, still, his urge to take care of her has only intensified. For him, Slate is vastly more important than Walt, or Sal. Period.

Walt feels the pocket of his plaid shirt, he needs a cigarette badly, but doesn't have one on him. “Shit.”

“Anyone know where she would have gone? “Sal glances at Walt, then Calderoni, '' Hey asshole, want to help out here?”

Calderoni frowns, then makes eye contact with Sal, “Slate has a boyfriend, maybe she's going there.”

Walt looks up, “that Joaquin guy?”

Calderoni nods, “yeah.”

Late that night

Slate stares off at the mountains. No matter where she lived, she always had a few places she could go to be alone, completely. Places her friends didn’t even know about. Earlier in the night, as she rushed out of her building, she knew she didn’t want to be alone, not this time.

But who do you lean on when your two best friends, the only ones you got left, are pissed at you: no worse, disappointed and possibly disgusted. She can handle anger, that's an easier one to grapple with. The disappointment hurts, it sinks deep in her gut like an iron Achor.

-Flashback to two hours ago-

Slate lingered behind the bar. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long. The backdoor opened and Joaquin stepped out. His cognac eyes lit up at the sight of her, “Hey,”

“Hey,” she holds him back when he moves in to kiss her, “you free right now?”

He looks her over, concern written all over his face, “Why didn't you come in through the front? You okay?”

“I need to get out of town, do you want to come with me? If so, we need to leave now, and you can't tell anyone. "

“Now I'm really worried - “

Slate reaches up, grabs his face and kisses him, mainly to quiet him, “yes, or no?”

“Yes.” he replies quickly.

“Good. come on.” she leads the way.

-Flashback over-

As the breeze kicks up, she closes her jacket and zips it closed.

“Hey, what's going on with you?”

Joaquin's voice pulls her away from her thoughts. It’s a welcomed interruption. Before he sat next to her, her mind was starting to drift off to the guys and imagining them looking for her all over the city, if they didn’t kill each other first.

She starts, “I have - “then stops herself, and rethinks her words, “just a lot going on right now. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We don’t have to.” He replies calmly.

When she looks at him, his eyes are set on the landscape ahead. After however many days she takes out here, she needs to have a lot of heavy conversations, including one with Joaquin.

Though she didn't want to be alone tonight, she knows she needs to for a period of time, so she can properly sort out her shit. No Calderoni, as much as that pains her, and no Joaquin. Zero distractions of the male variety.

Then there’s Walt.

Fucking Breslin.

She could punch him in the face right now, and he needs to apologize.

His words hurt like hell. She wished she could shrug them off and not be as weak as she felt in that moment. Over the course of their friendship, he's done shit that pissed her off, and Slates sure she's pissed him too, but tonight? That like a sword right through her heart.

How could he, of all people, say that?

And though the words came from a place of pain and anger, it didn't make them hurt any less. For him to even imply she just forgot about Mexico feels the harshest thing Walt could have said to her. Slate shakes her head, mainly to shake off the thoughts and the new tears coming to her eyes. ‘

“Hey, Joaquin?” She turns her body to his.

“Yeah?”

“I know it hasn't been easy, with me. I know I’m not - I’m not able to give you the full...” she trails off, maintaining eye contact, “experience you want. I guess I'm just saying, it means more than you know, you being here and the fun we’ve been having. Thank you for respecting my boundaries about this and I'm sorry I can't give more.”

Joaquin scoots closer to her, and puts a hand on her knee,

“I made my amends with that. We’ve talked about it plenty. I'm trying to enjoy this for what it is. And, when I get to the point this isn't enjoyable anymore, and I need to have my full experience, I won't leave you high and dry, I’ll let you know. Of course, if we're being honest here, I'd like that to be with you, but I'm very aware it likely won't be. That is something I need to find peace with.”

Joaquin turns his hand closest to her palm side up. Slate accepts the invitation and places her hand in his. The metal bands of his rings are cold against her skin. Joaquin wraps his fingers over hers with a little squeeze.

“We do have things to talk about Joaquin, “she makes eye contact again, “If you’re up for it, tonight, I'd like to just enjoy this view and your company. But, if you don't want to stay, I understand. I won’t hold it against you.”

Joaquin looks away, Slate waits quietly for his answer without expectation either way.

Joaquin lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it, his beard tickling her skin. “I’ll stay, for a little while”

Two weeks later

For the first time in a long while, Slate can’t read his expression. This feeling places her right back in Mexico, to that dusty old warehouse they called home and their first encounters with him.

Calderoni is quiet, he has been since she spoke minutes ago. Slates has been doing most of the talking. She figured part of his distance was due to her disappearing act last week, but she just had to get out of there, she told him that, and part of her knows he understands.

Slate pulls her eyes from his and absentmindedly observes the bar. They’re seated in the back, a corner booth with a view of everything. It seemed better to do this here, she didn’t want them to get caught up behind closed doors. She didn't want this conversation to turn into two days of bliss with him followed by yet another internal crisis. The privacy would have been nice, but a public space holds her accountable, it helps her stick to the purpose of this meeting without emotional attachment getting in the way.

Slate resumes where she left off. “It’s all too - heavy, Guillermo. Part of me, a big part of me, wants us to work. The smaller part knows it won’t.”

Calderoni reclines back against the cushion and crosses his arms. “Good thing we didn’t buy a place.”

A small chuckle escapes her, followed by one of his own. She keeps her eyes cast down now,

“Yeah.” she takes a moment to think over the words lingering on her tongue before saying them, “I lost a lot. We tried to make it work and I lost more. I care for you, deeply, but - I think it's best to go our separate ways, I just have myself left, I can't lose that too.”

Calderoni starts to say something, then decides against it. Uncrossing his arms, he reaches out and grabs one of her hands.

“You’re not alone, Slate.”

She nods and closes her eyes. Calderoni caresses the back of her hand with his thumb. It’s a sweet gesture. She invites it, though she wishes he’d say more. But he's always been the kind of man who holds his cards close to his chest, so it's no surprise he’s doing it now.

“I was trying to not be the emotional one here.” She jokes, still fighting the tears.

When one finally falls from her left eye, he wants to reach out and wipe it, to hold her face and comfort her. To tell her they will find a way and he will take care of her. He wants to tell her though he's been sparce with his words, what he feels for her runs so deep in his veins that she's settled into his bones, into the very core of him. But he knows he shouldn't. This is it. This is the end. It’s all over. If he's being honest, it lasted longer than he expected, still, he's unprepared for the ending.

He slowly pulls his hand from hers. As their fingertips touch for the last time, both of them watch that final moment, the hair of a second where their fingertips touch then separate.

“It's time for me to go.” He announces.

She doesn't look up yet, and he wants her to, he wants to gaze into her eyes one last time.

“Take care, Guillermo.” She says quietly, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Calderoni slides out of the booth and takes the few steps over to her side. He rests his hand on the back of her head, leans over, and plants a kiss on top. The scent of her hair meets his nose, he lingers there for a moment, savoring it, then steps back.

“Take care of yourself, Slate.” He turns to walk away but stops, when he glances back at her, her eyes are still downcast. “Hey,” he calls. She finally looks at him. “I want you to be happy.”

Slate presses her lips together in a tight line and nods.

Calderoni winks at her, turns, then heads toward the door. Slate watches him with watery eyes as he disappears into the crowd, then reaches the door. He opens and steps out without looking back.

…

After completing what must have been the longest walk of her life, Slate circled back to her building. She’s thankful for the daylight, she could hide her eyes with sunglasses, and no one would know she's been crying. The sun is starting to go down now, and she has no idea what she’ll do with her night.

Two weeks. Two break ups, well, four if you count her lost friendships. Everything feels like a giant step backwards and she’s contemplating ending her work leave. It seemed like a good idea when she returned home from the mountains, but now, not so much. All this free time feels heavier, she rather keep busy, she rather bury herself in a case.

Once she’s inside her apartment, her phone rings. Slate rarely answers her phone on the first ring, but it's been a habit over the last 12 days, there's two voices she hopes to hear on the other end every time she picks up. “Hello?”

“Finally, I called twice today.” He speaks.

Slate smiles and leans against the wall, “Sal.”

“This is stupid. All the shit we went through, this can’t break up the crew.” Sal said.

His words land on her heart and nestle in there, “I'm glad you called. I miss you man.”

“I Miss you too,” he replies warmly. “Sorry I shut you out for a while. That was some heavy shit.”

“I know, “she sits on the floor with her back to the wall, “I know.”

“You don’t sound too good. What's up?”

Slate pulls on the cord, then sets in on the other side of her body. “Aside from breakups and general melancholy, I'm peachy.”

“You broke it off?”

Slate brings her knees to her chest, then responds, “Yeah.”

“The son of a bitch? Or that other one too?”

“That other one?” she laughs, “Sal he has a name, and yeah, him too. But we are friends so you may have to learn his name eventually.”

Sal grins on the other end. “Eh, he’ll be that guy for now. Unless it gets serious. You like this guy?”

“I do, but I can't think about getting serious with anyone right now. Or being casual with anyone either. I’m a fucking nun for rest of the year. Maybe next year too.”

They both laugh at her comment. When the laughter dies down, she clears her throat, “How's Walt?”

“As expected, keepin’ busy with some undercover job.”

“Don’t blame him, it's my coping mechanism too, I'm just trying really hard to try something new.”

“He’ll come around Slate, he misses you.”

She stares at the opposite wall, “Did he say that?”

“It's Walt we’re talking about.”

She chuckles, “yeah. Plus, he can hold a grudge like no one's business. Maybe we’ll talk again in the next life.”

“I'd say that's accurate for him, but not when it comes to you. He’ll come around, give it time.”

“I’m pretty sure he hates me. And I'm still really hurt and pissed at what he said to me."

“Nah, don’t be so dramatic. He could never hate you. As for what he said, that wasn't cool, we talked about it." he takes a beat before resuming," I have something that might cheer you up, did you check your mail?”

Slates eyes jump to the side table where she dumped her mail, keys and bag.

“I grabbed it but didn't look yet, hold on,” she sets the phone down on the ground. Slate stands, retrieves the pile and returns to her spot. Once seated, she looks through until she finds the one with his name on it. Picking up the phone with one hand, she holds the envelope with the other. “Look at that, it's not even my birthday yet.”

“I know you and Ossie wanted to see that line up together, but we could go. Maybe his ghost will appear and stage dive or something.”

Slate laughs, “you know, if a ghost was to come back for a rock concert, his ass would, “she holds the phone between her shoulder and ear now. With her hands free, she opens the envelope and finds the tickets. “Sal I - thank you.”

“Road trip. You and me. I’ll pick you up next week on Thursday, and for the love of God, please no surprises.”

She chuckles, “I am as single and as depressed as one person could be right now. There will be zero surprises. Unless you walk in on me crying and eating a bunch of junk food. Warning, I will likely be dressed in the biggest, comfiest, ugliest pajamas I own. For emotional reasons."

He laughs, "I’ll work on cheering you up. The show will help. See you next week? I have to run, wrap up some work."

“See you next week.” She confirms.

They exchange goodnights and Sal hands up first, followed by Slate.

She puts the phone on the receiver. Holding the tickets in her hands, she smiles. Though having one friend back and a cool concert to look forward to won't fix all her problems or mend her broken heart, it's a start. With the tickets in hand, she heads to the wall of photos and shows them to Ossie.

“Were finally going you fucker, you better come back from the dead for this.” She touches the photo.

Just as she’s about to walk away, her eyes fall to one of her and Walt, it's from 4 years ago in front of some fast-food joint on the road. She reminds herself of what Sal said and hopes he’s right.

Getting Sal back means the world but it’s only half of it if Walt never talks to her again. She just hopes, her heart heals and that one day, she gets what's left of the band back together. Romantic partners come and go, and when she's ready, she'll seek that out. But Sal and Walt are her guys, like two pillars to her foundation. She needs them both.

Slate takes one more look at the picture, “I hope Sal is right.”

After putting the tickets somewhere safe, she heads to the kitchen to make some dinner. It’s the first time she ate anything today and taking care of herself includes both the little things and big things, like eating. So, she starts where she can, and makes a meal.

Bonus chapter - all in

A03

Masterlist (narcos is on the list)

💕💕💕 smash & grab crew

@yourlocalspacewitxch @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc

#walt breslin #Calderoni narcos #sal orozco #narcos mexico #fic: after this is over #final chapter

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the-firebird69 · 9 months

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It says it all the time it's absolutely beautiful but massively deadly and you have to be careful because certain animals get real strong on it and maybe insects but they said they die after a bit not too long and fish too too they die and at the end of the Saco there's a huge pile of bones and they float down the river and all types of Bones and human stuff he and really he became very strong and I don't want to say that's ridiculous but it is it's like lifting up an ambulance that's emptied and none of you can do anything like that so stop bothering him but okay. His own granddaddy start questioning who he was said when I was in the womb all sorts of stuff must have happened I heard about it he says oh great you read the halt well then all stunting my growth so it seems to be taking care of and it says okay and a check that it was and said we don't want him attracting everybody it's going on anyways but it seems to be this Tommy F guy he won't let our friend move and it would help us

Mac

I can't believe it I'm getting the same stuff now I'm getting convicted and stuff from crimes I'll set up for to do tell me if it's riding on the whole thing and still going through with it and it's probably some kind of massive joke to our friend here. It looks at him and he's doing his a****** routine and he's marking our friend and it stops it says there's practically no reaction and that's not what it was I said someone's mocking you you're this guy and you're that guy and they're saying what you were doing and having you do it and he flips out Saturday in the show and went on for 20 minutes I can't stand this anymore we're not that bright and that's what we do Saturday he says people are spewing it everywhere they feel comfortable because they think Tommy f is the answer it's not really true there's a snake that's well over 130 miles long with a humongous head and really it's skinny you can tell it's really huge cuz the skull of the snake is bigger than the rest of it and we're going to go look at it cuz so let's check it and we're going to go check it pretty soon but that's a lot of them that's a lot of venom he says it's just an enormous amount it goes the whole river and it's just like that lake that they went to in New Hampshire this is you know where that is too it's not the boy scout place but it's nearby that's another one too it's clear as a bell in the water you can't figure out why I was still reason and he's asking about Crystal lake and that's kind of a clear lake too couldn't tell by looking at it it really is you can see the bottom and you can see Jason down there no but you can see the gator and I pushed him in and having a fight

Trump

You dick you dick I'm going to kill you you bastard people grossed out and angry about it and then you want to see that nobody wants to see you do that it is not right you're really everything you can't have an election like this with kids who are offered up to a gator I mean what the f*** are you with a massive monster it's all over man you got to go down

Jason

We have to stop what's going on and we can't that's disgusting I see what you're saying these are your people kind of and they're want to run for president again and nobody's stepping up the plates and just tell him no and we get that the GOP should stand up and say get out we don't support you and you're not going to be on the ticket and I'm saying Asus Max is having sex stupid and it really is true we should get them off the ticket and he can run as an independent or whatever it's an embarrassment that's disgusting and the results is much worse it's it's heinous people keep going there you keep telling them not to this weird things that look like venom that's what they are they're part and and part blob and part cracken. It's going down that they're horrifying these people were making fun of our horrifying people much worse than you and your s*** is a joke to him it's dangerous and he's mad but they're nasty and horrifying people what they're doing isn't having you with creatures to shut you down you see it in the movie venom he disappears sometimes it's inside shows up and says it's mostly outside because he's big what part of it can go inside and control you you can see him doing it and his face changes it's actually inside and he's going inside his body to his cortex I've got to tell you something there's something wrong here and you two keep bothering him and make it worse and he's young he says I don't know and I'm learning it and it seems like someone's plan like you idiots in their satanism I'm going to get on this it's probably what it is

Mac

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white--moon · 1 year

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He frowns. “No. You offered, you can’t take it back now.” Exclusive definitely denotes boyfriend. Ichigo just needed a second. Though having it taken away certainly helps him make a quick decision. He nods, but then Shiro says something so far off his radar, he forgets to finish swallowing. Ichigo doesn’t choke, but it’s close and he has to swallow hard and take a drink and it burns. That wasn’t what he was expecting. That wasn’t what he was thinking. It wasn’t even something he’s particularly worried about. Though… maybe it should’ve been. This is really the first time he’s stopped to give it serious thought. “I’ve never been tested.” He can’t decide if that look Shiro has is more regret or shame or maybe something in between but he hates it.

He gathers his plate and drink and gets to his feet to hover over him. “Scoot over. Move your five thousand plates.” He doesn’t actually wait before just sort of stuffing himself into the booth beside Shiro, clanking dishes together and putting his feet up on the opposite bench, working in until it’s cozy and feels more like a seventh date instead of a first one, and if Shiro wanted the outside, he shouldn’t have made that face. “I didn’t ask. If I was worried about it, I would’ve. I’m pretty sure I’m the one that said, ‘oh, no condom, who cares? Keep sticking your dick into me’.” Which isn’t word for word, but that was definitely the mood. Maybe he shouldn’t talk so loud, there are a lot of heads swiveling their direction. He doesn’t even care, he sends a few of them a scowl to remind them to mind their own damn business.

But then Shiro says that and his mouth falls open. He’s… That’s… Oh, what an asshole. Okay. He does like that a well-aimed, death glare can clear a hallway and maybe make some jackass think twice about trying to start shit, but Shiro makes it sound like a baseball bat he clubs people over the head with. He puffs up, chewing on a dozen different snarks and denials before deciding it’s too hard to explain and exhaling a venom laced breath. “For your information, that’s what I like most about you, dickhead. Not least. So… don’t presume.” He huffs. Then huffs again because it’s not out of his system yet. “It’s unrelated that it also happens to be really inconvenient for me.”

He stabs a piece of meat and flicks it casually onto Shiro’s plate. “You should, it’s good.” Normally, he guards his meal with violence, but Shiro likes food so much, not sharing seems inhumane. “Right,” he agrees, even though he didn’t know that. It just makes sense once he hears it. “Huh.” It’s a thoughtful sound more than anything. “Bodies are weird.” Whatever. Seems convenient since Shiro clearly also enjoys it. He keeps eating, still distracted by Shiro’s plans that could honestly be just about anything.

That reaction puts a crooked smile on his face. "I'm not takin' it back, just givin' you room to back out. Isn't that what you were doin' to me?" He likes it even more than a minute ago, now that he knows Ichigo does too.

The hard swallow and look on Ichigo's face to the rest of his thoughts is less comforting. His attention had drifted away, but it's no firmly anchored on anything that's not Ichigo. His grip on his glass is a little tight and he's so tempted to down the entire thing except it would make him look so desperate and pathetic right now. He shrugs a small motion when Ichigo says he's never been tested. He's not worried; he suspects Ichigo's had fewer random strangers for partners than he has.

When Ichigo stands, he doesn't quite flinch, but he tenses, gaze snapping up to him, before his brows arch slightly. "What?" He isn't given a chance to process that before Ichigo's in the seat beside him. There's a few seconds where his confusion starts to turn into something lighter and happier. He shuffles over a little but while he does, his elbow bumps the wall and all of a sudden he's in a very small space, stuck between the wall and Ichigo, sandwiched between the high back of the booth and the table. He goes rigid and it feels a little like he's forgotten how to breathe but it's mostly just the constricted feeling of discomfort turning to something much worse. He doesn't move his plate or his glass, he grabs the edge of the table, three seconds from climbing over it to get out of this corner, but when he does, it slides. It's not bolted down. He pushes it a few inches further out and that's all it takes to have his heart rate slowing and tension draining, because now he's not actually trapped here.

He finally starts rearranging the dishes on the table and looks over at Ichigo, blinking when he realizes what Ichigo's saying. Between the short bout of now receding panic and the sheer relief of what Ichigo's saying, he can't help a slightly manic bubble of laughter. He couldn't honestly care less what the other people around them might think about him or Ichigo or their conversation, but the glare Ichigo gives the room is pretty amusing too. "Well you probably should'a cared. But, I dunno. I guess I didn't really care whether you cared or not before, but now it seems kinda important that you know. You deserve to know."

The look on Ichigo's face is so damn gratifying. Also definitely confirmation. The smirk slipping across his expression is just a little sharp and a little sly. "Oh, so you like not gettin' your way? Kinky. And perfect, 'cause I love gettin' my way." That's not at all what Ichigo's saying, he's well aware, but the banter and teasing is weirdly good stress relief for him.

He looks down at the bite dropped onto his plate and wonders if Ichigo has realized by now that when he teased about food being his love language he was entirely serious. He uses his fingers to pluck that piece of meat into his mouth and uses his other hand to slide his plate a little more between them in offering, willing to share if Ichigo's also willing to do so. The matter of fact, somewhat lackluster reaction is honestly perfect, because while he's not particularly sensitive about the topic, it can still be made into an awkward one. "Yeah, especially when you do weird things to 'em."

#ask #blacksun

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bucksfucks · 3 years

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𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙮 ; 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

summary┃you’ve always called steve the golden boy, but he snaps one night and decides to show you he’s anything but.

pairing┃roommate!steve x f!reader

word count┃2,382 words

warnings┃hangover, drinking, tipsy sex, pining, teasing, makeout session, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, steve doesn’t think he’ll fit but he makes it, use of toys (vibrator), mocking, edging, hair pulling kink, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, steve finishes on readers back, steve is lowkey a fuckboy — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes┃presidential alert 🚨 the girls, gays, and the they’s are horny

The shower was already running when you had walked out of your room and into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea.

It was Saturday morning and despite your best efforts, your body never let you sleep in last nine in the morning.

You may as well start your day at 8:48 am.

Steve had gone out last night, but you remember the door shutting at three in the morning and a faint shhh falling from his lips as he spoke to whatever inanimate object was making noise.

In your sleepy daze, you didn’t really mind. Instead, turning your pillow onto the cool side and drifting back to sleep.

The kettle was boiling and the bread was getting warmed in the toaster when the shower finally stopped running.

It was a little unusual for Steve to shower for so long, even after his morning runs or workouts, he’d never need more than 10 minutes.

When the door opened, and a groaning Steve emerged, you knew exactly what the problem was.

“Mornin’, Golden Boy,” he didn’t even have the energy to grimace at the sound of his nickname.

His bare feel pattered against the wooden floor until he dropped his large body in one of the bar stools.

“Someone had a fun night.” You mumbled with a small smirk as you slid him a cup of coffee which is took between his fingers.

“I don’t know how Sam and Bucky roped me into shots,” he said into the cup of coffee as he took a cautious sip.

You just rolled your eyes playfully and plated the toast that had popped out a few seconds earlier, slabbing a large helping of butter before adding honey and sliding the plate over to him.

“Eat.”

He groaned again, but put the coffee down in place for the sweet honey toast.

“I can’t drink like I used to, I think I’m dying,” he was being dramatic, a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took a bite and hummed.

“You’re 27, Rogers. I think someone’s being a little dramatic,” you teased with a smile.

You are your breakfasts in silence for the most part, the painkiller Steve had taken not yet kicking in until both of your plates were cleared.

“Did you get lucky last night?” You asked with raised eyebrows as you both placed your plates in the sink.

Steve just laughed, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

You had to admit that your heart dropped, the same twinge of jealously starting to bloom in your chest as you imagined him with someone else.

“Proud of you, Golden Boy.” You fake cheered, biting your tongue and swallowing your pride.

Above everything, Steve was your friend and he deserved to get laid.

He laughed, “you should’ve come, Bucky couldn’t stop asking about you.”

You rolled your eyes again, slightly in annoyance.

“He knows I’ll never sleep with him,” you sang song, helping Steve dry the dishes as the sink stopped running.

“You never told me why, you know that?” You scoffed, “and for good reason.”

The reason was simple; you didn’t want Bucky, but instead his best friend and your roommate, Steve.

“I’ll get it out of ya one day, sweetheart.” Steve chuckled and you felt your heart sink a little further, “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The rest of the day was uneventful, nothing to do on a rainy New York day other than read as Steve fiddled with his sketchbook while an old sitcom played on the television.

Steve’s hangover either disappeared or he was great at hiding it, whatever it was, he was humming along to the show tune.

“Pizza and beers for dinner?” Steve asked as he was putting the final touches on his sketch making you laugh.

“What happened to I can’t drink like I used to?” You said, echoing his words from the morning as he shrugged.

“It’s a lazy day essential, now what toppings, and don’t say pineapple.” You acted shocked, mouth twitching into a smile.

“You don’t know anything about good pizza,” you huffed as he tore his eye away from his sketchbook to look at you.

“Pineapple on pizza is a crime, sweetheart. Now if that’s who you are I can’t judge, but I’m jus’ sayin’,” he said raising his hands in mock defeat.

“Whatever Golden Boy, just say you’re a vanilla type of guy,” you winked, standing up to put your book on the shelf as the sun began setting to cast yellow and orange hues over the apartment.

Steve snickered, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

The low timbre of his voice, your own words echoed from this morning sends a shudder down your spine as he grabs his phone.

“The usual?” You manage to nod your head, smiling as you try to distract yourself from the sudden and very evident ache between your thighs.

30 minutes later and the pizza was here, still hot and greasy as Steve set it on the wooden coffee table as you grabbed two beers, scratch that, four beers.

“Cheers, Golden Boy,” you offered with a soft smile as you both clinked your bottle necks against each other before pizza was being devoured.

You didn’t know what it was, but cheap greasy pizza and a cold beer always soothed the soul. No matter how heartbroken you had ever been, or upset at the universe, beer and pizza were always there for you.

As the hours went by, the bottles emptied and the pizza slices disappeared before you and Steve were sat on the couch laughing and giggling at the time Steve locked himself out in nothing but his underwear.

“And where were you to rescue me!” He bellowed, throwing his head back at the memory.

“I was in the shower, you know I blare music. I’m sorry Stevie, I promise the next time you’re locked out and naked I’ll rescue you.”

He shook his head, “well I wasn’t naked.”

You felt a little dizzy, body lighter as you finished off the second beer. You weren’t drunk, but loose enough to rest your head against Steve’s shoulder.

His phone buzzed then, grabbing it off the table as Bucky’s name lit up across the screen.

Steve ignored it.

“He’s jus’ gonna ask me to go out again,” he said before you could ask, seemingly reading your mind.

“Plus, I’m perfectly content right here,” he smiled, finishing off his second beer as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a sap,” you teased, “that a bad thing?” He asked and you felt the air around you grow more tense.

“‘Course not, you’re just Stevie,” you tried to explain as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Stevie?” He asked as you sat up and crossed your legs under your body.

“Yeah, you know,” you tried to find the words, “Golden Boy.”

He hums in response, “golden as in pure?”

You nod your head, “pure, sweet, innocent.”

You weren’t sure if you had struck a nerve, but Steve smirked as he leaned into you.

“‘M not so innocent, sweetheart. Not everything is as it seems.” His voice was much lower, raspier as you could smell the beer on his breath.

“Is that so?” Your voice was just a little above a whisper, heart racing in your chest.

“I could even show you, sweetheart, but you gotta answer one question first. Sound fair?” He asked.

You nodded your head slowly, eagerly awaiting his question.

His hands fell to your knees, sliding up until he pulled you into his lap.

You looked up at him, craning your head only slightly as he craned his at you. He was warm, and broad.

“Why,” his voice was low, “won’t you hookup with Bucky, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitched, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you ran your hands up his chest until they rested on his shoulders.

“I think you know,” you whispered as he shook his head and chuckled.

“Uh uh, I wanna hear you say it.” He purred, brushing his nose against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you smelt his oaky, but sweet body wash. Something like bergamot and oranges.

He squeezed your hips, a soft moan falling from your lips at the sensation.

“It’s because,” you swallowed thickly, “because I want you, Stevie.”

He hummed, hand on the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours.

You kissed back, the realization hitting you it became hotter and more desperate as you slid your tongue past Steve’s lips.

“All you needed to do was say those words and you could’ve had me all to yourself.” He smirks against your lips making you whimper.

His fingers are digging into your ass, rocking your hips over his. It’s the right amount of friction to have you melting into his touch.

When he picks you up, carrying you into his room to toss you onto his bed, you know you’ve made the wrong assumption about him.

“Now there’s nothin’ wrong with a man who likes vanilla,” he hums, hands exploring your body.

“But I’m a man who prefers a little more,” he meets your eyes, a devilish smirk and twinkle in his eyes, “flavour.”

He’s hovering over you, lips on your neck and jaw as his hips rut over yours.

“Go get that goddamn vibrator of yours,” he breathes as you look at him bewildered.

“You know that one, you like the third setting the most on it.” He winks standing up as your eyes trace along his body and to where his cock is straining.

“Go on, don’t sit there actin’ all dumb,” you spring to your feet, tripping over them as you quickly fetch it from your room.

“Good girl, lie back down on the bed, but get naked first.” He instructs you sternly.

You’d never had anyone tell you to strip, let alone have someone eyes so focused on you as you place the vibrator in his larger hand.

Starting with your sweater, you tear it off—chest exposed as Steve licks his lips.

“Go on, don’t be shy. You’re makin’ him real happy,” he smirks, squeezing his dick through his pants.

You tug your leggings down until you’re in your panties and Steve is giving you a look that tells you to continue.

It’s a thrill, stripping for him and watching his cock twitch at the sight of your curves, dips, and the marks you hate.

“Look at you,” he groans, “perfect little thing aren’t ya? Now I gotta be honest,” you swallow thickly.

“‘M not sure if he’ll fit like I planned, but we’ll make sure to get you warmed up,” he says before placing your hand over his dick.

It causes goosebumps to prickle your skin as he pushes you down onto the bed fully naked now.

“Now this,” he says, holding your vibrator, “isn’t even gonna compare to me by the time I’m done with you.”

It’s a promise that you know Steve will keep as he kneels between your legs.

“I expect you to keep these open, okay? Unless of course,” his cocky attitude breaks through, “you’re squeezin’ my head when you cum.”

You can’t even chide back, all thoughts gone at the sound of the click of your vibrator.

Steve wastes no time, spreading your folds and exploring you with his tongue before he connects the silicone tip to your clit.

It causes your body to jolt and Steve has to keep your legs open.

“What did I say, sweetheart. Keep ‘em open,” he reminds you as he slips a single fingers in you.

It’s already ten times better than your own, longer and thicker as they curl against your sweet spot.

Your walls squeeze him, fluttering as you grip onto his unmade bed sheets.

He teased you, edging you until you’re begging him to let you come with a dry throat.

“Steve, c’mon. ‘S’not fair,” you whine, tugging at his hair. He groans, hips rutting into the bed and you know you’ve found his weakness.

Two can play at this game.

You tug at his hair again, “please, Stevie? Wanna cum so fuckin’ bad—all over your face.”

He groans vibrator tossed on the bed as his mouth wraps around your clit, “fuck, baby.”

It’s a lewd sound, your wetness against his fingers and mouth, but it’s enough to send you over the edge.

“Make a mess, sweetheart. Gotta taste ya,” he groans against your core as you’re nearly suffocating him.

It’s intense, washing over you like a wave followed by a series of smaller ones until he’s flipping you over and your ass is in the air.

“Not so fuckin’ vanilla anymore, huh?” He slaps your ass, a squeak leaving your lips.

“Gonna have the taste of you on my mind for days now, practically have me pussy whipped already.”

His clothes are gone, all necessary ones before he’s bending his body over yours, “grip onto the headboard baby, you’ll need all the support you can get.”

And he’s not wrong, sliding into you and stretching you out as you wrap yourself fingers around the wood until he’s fully seated inside of you.

It’s a new fullness, one that you’ve never experienced and something you never want to forget.

“Bounce, baby.” He then says, as you look over your shoulder.

“Ride me, use the headboard and make yourself cum.” He smirks, slick coating both of your thighs.

Everything is new to you as Steve lets you take control, yet, you’re never truly in control.

“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Look how desperate you are to cum,” he taunts making you whimper.

He joins in soon, meeting your thrusts with his own until you’re both grunting and he can’t hold back.

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum.” He hissed, quickly pulling out to paint your back as he rubs your clit with his free hand and you feel the white hot explosion of pleasure for the second time that night.

You’ve both made a mess by the time you’re done, Steve cleaning you up with his boxers as you’re collapsing beside him still trying to catch your breath.

“You’ve ruined my vibrator for me,” you chuckled breathlessly as he turns to you with a smirk, “well it’s a good thing I’m your roommate then.”

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x reader #bucksfucks writes — [♡] ;#steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers oneshots #steve rogers one shots #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers drabble

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needleandhammer · 2 years

Text

Wrapped Up In You

Pairing: Alpha!Ari Levinson x WOC Reader

Warnings: 18+ only; A/B/O verse; soft!dark Ari; omega!reader; explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (wrap it up folx); very dubious consent; hormone-ic? coercion; breeding kink; little bit of size kink/descriptions of reader as short/smaller than Ari

A/N: Something a lil dark for beefy alpha Ari. He just wants to be with you. 😳 Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

Ari runs his thumb along the ridges of the key in his hand. At his desk, pages of floor plans lay abandoned while heat from his palm warmed the key over the past thirty minutes.

He perks up at the sound of knocking.

Ari sets aside his drafting pencil. The key drops into his pocket.

He opens the door, rewarded with your smile.

After stepping inside and slipping off your shoes, you hand a paper bag to him.

“Just stopping by to give you these.”

The croissants are crisp and he knows you ordered his favorite – blueberry.

“Stay for a bite?” he asks.

You help yourself to the kettle at his stove, filling it up with water for tea.

As the two of you chat and indulge in the pastries, Ari’s eyes trace your body in your seat. How much you belong there, elbow to elbow with him. Your voice filling the kitchen, bouncing off the walls together with the light of the setting sun.

Your tongue licks your lips in delight of the treat. Ari can’t help smiling; he knows you got the croissants because he mentioned earlier in the week that he had a craving. It’s days later and when you have spare time, you show up and prove how attentive and caring you are.

His perfect omega.

“I should head out. Before I eat more of these and have no space left for dinner with the girls.” You lift both of your plates and head over to sink.

He walks you to the door, helps you shrug on your jacket. Before you can reach for your purse, his thick arms have swept you up, closing the height gap and bringing you eye level with him. You run your fingers along his beard, letting the bristles tickle your palm.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks.

You nod. He leans in and kisses your smile.

At dinner, you endure some teasing briefly.

“You really ditched Ari to come hang with us? Damn, you must really love us.” Nora squeezes you against her side.

“Of course I love you,” you say unironically. You tug at your sweater to let in some cool air.

“How is he?”

“He’s good.”

Gabe makes a face at you. “Look at that smile. You’re so cute with him it makes me sick. Just get married already.”

You roll your eyes. Your friends know you are in no rush to get married. It’s not a box you’re interested in checking off your list.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabe clears the table for space as your food arrives. “You both like how things are going just the way they are.”

Nora adds, “He adores you and you like him to death and I bet he’s never said no to you before, urgh…”

“He’s sweet and committed and dicks you down good and that’s all you need,” Gabe finishes, heedless of the waiter who is still unloading their tray onto your table.

You grimace at the waiter and plan on leaving a big tip.

As you’re halfway through your sorrentinos, you try to remember if Ari has ever said no to you before.

It started a couple days after he offered his spare key to you. You told him it was incredibly sweet and thoughtful, but you weren’t sure you could accept it at the time. A big gesture on his part for giving it to you – and you consider it an equally big gesture to accept. To take such a big step.

Ari didn’t bring it up again, just kept visiting you, chatting with you as usual, which eased your guilt. He knew you were afraid you hurt him by not accepting the key.

Ari was hurt, but that pain just made his love for you pulse harder through his veins. Like a fine needle, that pain pricked him in the smallest way – and out spilled his devotion to you. His determination to be completely yours.

A week.

He left small, potent hints of himself all over your space over the past week.

Sitting in your car with his wrist pressed to the gear stick. Forgetting his tie at your apartment. Swiping his wrist against the underside of your pillow. Slipping a handkerchief into your jacket pocket. And every chance you were in the same room alone with him, Ari upped his pheromone output just enough. Sometimes he did it in minimal, unnoticeable, amounts while you two had dinner. Once or twice, you sat near him as he made phone calls and wrote emails that ‘frustrated’ him, got him worked up, aggression and stress wafting at you until you squirmed with the need to soothe him.

Your alpha.

The next day, after some coffee and quickly cleaning up around your apartment, you head over to Ari’s house.

He lets you in and you squeeze his hand briefly before wriggling out of your coat. You’re warmer than you expected, even as the temperatures dropped today, a brutal wind swirling light snow outside.

“You got any ice?”

“There’s cold water in the fridge.” He pads into the kitchen after you as you’re finishing a glass of water.

“You planning to hibernate?” You nod towards his refrigerator, filled to the brim with fruits, veggies, and other indications of planning a feast.

“I might have gone shopping while I was hungry,” he said, smirking down at you and planting a kiss on your forehead. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You reach for him and he hugs you.

The two of you have brunch and then leave for a movie.

Ari reaches over sparingly for some popcorn. The tub of popcorn is always on your lap, ensuring you have comfortable access to crunchy goodness, until you lose interest in eating it; then Ari slides it into his hold so you don’t have to keep holding it. Today, you don’t indulge in the popcorn as enthusiastically as normal.

As the film introduces the characters, Ari notices your head on his shoulder. This is not unusual. However, you don’t remain still. Your temple rubs against him. You nuzzle distractedly and curl tightly against his side.

When the first major fight scene starts, Ari can feel your head nodding. Fitting his arm around you, Ari pulls you close to his chest.

“Doing okay?” he whispers.

It takes a couple seconds for you to respond, as you find it pertinent to lift your face up and bury your nose in his neck.

You hum and murmur back. “Feeling tired.”

“You wanna go home?”

You nod.

Back at his house, you groan into a throw pillow. “I was so excited to see that movie. I don’t know why I got so sleepy.”

“It’s alright. We can go back another day. You wanna take a nap?”

You sigh. “That sounds good.”

Ari promises to wake you up in an hour.

Leaning over the bedside, his hand brushes your cheeks, senseing the temperature of your body rising.

Eyes heavy, you smile up at him as he tucks you in. “Thanks, Ari.”

Almost thirty minutes later.

It’s quiet except for the howl of wind outside the house.

Ari lifts his head. A dizzying scent tickles his nose. He hears your footsteps soft against the floor.

“Ari?”

“Baby, you’re awake?”

Your face feels flushed with heat. On your way out of the bedroom, you removed the confining layer of your pants.

Ari forces himself to remain seated. His body has gone tense, muscles fighting the restraint he has put on himself. You step closer to him, your delectable softness coming within reach.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks, quiet, concerned.

“I need…” You frown at him. Pout that his arms have not already enclosed you. “I feel hot all over. Like…”

Your hands find his shoulders, firm and solid.

“Like when I…Oh no. I think…”

“Shhh. It’s okay. C’mere.”

Those arms cradle you onto his lap. You sigh in relief.

“I’m right here.”

“Ari.” You whimper, the sound going straight to his cock.

“What do you need, baby?” His hand rubs deliciously up your back.

“Maybe I should go home.” Your heat is a couple weeks early. The symptoms have settled deep. You’re weighed down with a feverish discontent and the only thing helping is pressing harder against Ari.

“Shh. I don’t think you should be driving. And there’s a wind advisory.” His thumbs graze back and forth on your skin. He can feel you shiver with pleasure.

“I think”—

“It’s okay. Tell me what you need.”

You burrow and press your face against the side of his neck. “I, um—I think my heat”—

“I’m right here.”

You feel his lips kiss down your jaw, accompanied by the distracting, lovely scratch of his beard.

“Mm. Ari, I’m sorry—I just…”

“What do you need?” Large hands grip your thighs, pressing your core against him. His voice dropped so low, a tremble rose up your spine.

You gasp. “Need you. Alpha, I need you.”

Your naked limbs wrap around Ari as his weight holds you down against the bed. You squirm, kissing him hard, addicted to his taste. You’re aflame with desire, with a bone-deep yearning to be one with Ari, to open yourself and give to him.

Ari relishes the way you feel in his arms, in his bed. Revels in getting you like this - physically and emotionally giving to him. Giving and letting him take all that nature has written belongs to him.

He rolls, pulls you on top of him and reaches down to grip his cock. Your slick has leaked all over him, dripped down his member and he can’t wait any longer. He angles and pushes into you.

You gasp and keen as he fills you, so thick, filling you, asserting he belongs deep inside you.

His lips are swollen from your passion. He nips at your chin, sucks wet kisses down your neck.

“Ride me.”

You tremble as your knees brace at his sides. You want to feel him inside you like this forever. You want him written under your skin, his touch dragging against you, heavy and certain that you’re his.

A smack stings your ass cheek, making you whimper.

“Ride your alpha. Be good for me.”

You want to be good for him. For your alpha.

Your hips rock up and down, back and forth. Bobbing up and down his cock so that it stretches you, and drags in and out of you in a most maddening, delightful manner.

All the while Ari’s mouth, with that wicked mean beard, blazes across your chest. His teeth find sensitive flesh, tugs your nipples. His tongue tastes your sweat. He has imagined a hundred times the child you will give him, that you will feed from your breasts, the two of you his perfect future.

But you were so unsure. So hesitant about potentially disappointing Ari. He knew of your doubts and he knew he could overcome them. Sometimes by soothing you, by patiently loving you. Sometimes by taking – taking the next step for both of you. Moving you both forward.

His mouth closes around your neck. You moan, the wet heat of his mouth stimulating your sensitive heat-ridden bonding gland. Burning pleasure threatens to engulf you.

“Ari,” your voice bubbles with a moan. “A-alpha!”

You’re no longer riding your alpha. Ari has you trapped in his embrace, one hand gripping your ass cheek as he bucks up into you. His pace is brutal. Hard thrusts have you choking on your breath, moans broken and rising into sobs as his girth rubs against your most sensitive spot and his mouth bites down on your bonding gland.

You come squeezing him tight, your cunt begging your alpha to fill you with more than his cock.

Ari pants, “Right here.”

“Ari…” you manage to mumble before he presses you to his neck. Your lips part instinctively, eager to complete the ritual, needing to do as your alpha has done.

“That’s it, omega. Take me.”

You bite.

Ari groans, coming hard inside you. He grunts, deeply pleased, fulfilled. Breathing hard, his face presses into your hair, drinks in your scent. He holds you, pumping his cock into you slowly until he dips deep and his knot swells into place. Pleased that his seed is in you, finally feeding your fertile womb.

You’re sated for now, assured that your body has received every drop your alpha demanded you take.

Later, Ari laps up the cream dripping like sap from your beautiful pussy. You’re needy, dropping deeper into your heat, with only one goal motivating you to stretch and arch your back. Your knees and hands balance you, presenting a sinful sight that has Ari salivating.

You whine and bury your face into the sheets.

“Please, alpha…”

Ari has never told you no.

Cooing at you, Ari splits you with his generous length.

When he’s seated to the hilt, pelvis caressing you ass, he sighs. Pride and adoration mix and flutter inside him and beyond him to you.

You're drunk on your carnal calling, the bond intoxicates you with his alpha triumph, his single-minded focus to sink into you.

He’s taking care of his omega. Breeding you, your soft curves just waiting to fill with his pup. Such satisfaction swells bigger with every deliberate, possessive plunge of his cock deep in and out of you. You’re at his mercy, his fingers biting into your hips. You’re taking what he gives you like his good little omega.

He knots you until you’re exhausted from trying to milk his cum.

Each day of your heat, your alpha takes the utmost care of you. Each day of your heat, Ari gives you what you need.

One year later.

Ari walks beside you. In his arms is the softest little creature that you both are obsessed with.

When you reach the front door, you hold up your hand. On one finger is a ring. In your palm is a key.

You both step inside, into the house Ari renovated as a surprise for you.

Some days, as you wake and see Ari cuddling and feeding your pup, you can’t believe how happy you are.

Ari’s found everything he wants in you. He wraps one arm around you. You lean against him, stroking your baby’s cheek and smile back at him. Content and loved.

“Welcome to our home,” Ari says.

🫐🫐

Thank you for reading!

#ari levinson #ari levinson x female reader #soft dark #alpa!ari levinson #a/b/o

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