#these thoughts are a little late and everyones probably moved on but ive been thinking about this for hours so sue me anyway heres my take | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lizzie-is-here · 2 years

Text

like the dawn

part v- the captain, the winter soldier, and the angel

“you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame. i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name.” - a.j (via ddaredevil)

summary: the world’s first avengers fall, and only one rises from the rubble. or so they think.

wordcount: 4.9k

warnings: cussing, violence, brainwashing, mild torture (?), dehumanization, hydra sucking ass in the worst way possible, google translate probably being very wrong, steve being a sad little bitch, bucky being a sad little bitch, you being a sad little bitch, me being a very sad little bitch you get the point

a/n: that new trending effect feels like a personal attack 🤡. anyway i finished this the other day and completely forgot about it so it’s a bit late! sorry lol. hope u enjoy <333

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll

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New York, 2011.

With a gasp, Steve Rogers wakes up in a hospital room.

Something seems off.

The radio isn’t as crackly as it should be. The buildings outside look wrong. And when a nurse walks in, he startles even more.

Her tie is too wide, her hair is down. She… she almost looks like you. Oh, god, where are you?

“Good morning. Or should I say afternoon?” She chuckles.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City,” she says. Steve listens closer to the game. He went to that game.

Narrowing his eyes, he asks again. “Where am I really?”

The “nurse” chuckles nervously. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“The game. It’s from May 1941. I know, ‘cause I was there.” He rises from the bed, now very ready to fight this lady, find you, and sprint from the building. This could be HYDRA, or some sick test by the US military. He doesn’t know where you are, but he’s determined to find you before you bust in and kick ass.

“Now, I’m going to ask you again. Where am I?”

The woman subtly presses a button, trying to stall as the soldiers rush towards the contained room. “Captain Rogers…” she began.

“Who are you?” Steve demands. Soldiers bust through the door, only causing him to panic further. He busts through the back wall with little effort, only to find that, indeed, the room was fake.

It’s a set, contained within another, much more unwelcoming room. The woman shouts as he runs out the doors.

Scrambling into another area, Steve notices more things looking… off. There are walls made of glass, almost every woman is wearing pants, and everyone’s hair looks strange.

There are lights, but he can’t tell where they’re coming from. The building is unnaturally cold, but the familiar hum of AC is gone.

And when he makes it outside, he’s sure he’s dreaming. The cars look so different, and there’s hundreds of them. Instead of hand-painted store signs, there are glowing letters.

He stops in the middle of a busy street. Giant panels of moving pictures surround him, advertising unfamiliar products as words flicker past.

Everything is so bright, so overwhelming.

Sleek, black cars surround him, and out steps a man wearing an eyepatch.

“At ease, soldier,” he yells. “Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

Steve’s stomach drops. “Break what?”

The man pauses, giving an almost sympathetic look.

“You’ve been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years.”

———————————————————————

Siberia, 1945.

With a scream, you woke up on a medical table.

You were strapped down, IVs sticking out from your arms here and there. You struggled against the restraints, growing more panicked as they refused to budge.

The door to the room swung open. Arnim Zola.

“What the hell is this,” you growled, still fighting.

He only grinned. “Well, Miss, at first you were a bargaining chip. A way to funnel money from the US.” He circled your bed like a vulture, picking you apart with a methodical eye.

“But when we ran some tests, we found that you have a very special genome.” The Doctor tapped an almost-empty IV bag. “And we just had to take advantage of that. Don’t worry, the process will be painful, but it will be over soon.”

You furrowed your brows. “What process?”

Instead of answering you, the doors swung open to reveal half a dozen soldiers in full tac gear. You recognized the emblem on their chest.

HYDRA.

You fought even harder then, never stopping as they removed the IVs and unclipped the restraints. As soon as you were free, you swung at one of them.

The motion of a punch was familiar. The soldier flying back and into the wall across the room was not.

You froze, and they took the advantage of your shock, wrangling you and leading you from the room. The hallways were dark, and the floor seemed to have been recently soaked with a strong disinfectant.

Finally, they opened a set of double doors to a large room. More HYDRA soldiers were swarming the area, plus some higher ranking individuals.

Their heads turned as you were dragged in, but your eyes only fell on the machine in the middle.

It was a small platform, with a large, circular ring around it covered in machinery. There were four places where you suspected they’d lock your hands and feet. Behind it the ring were two rectangular panels, with small needles arrayed across them.

They were going to experiment on you. Bad from the look of the glowing golden vials, it wasn’t your normal medicine.

As they locked you in, you tried to absorb every detail about the room. If you could deduce where you were, maybe you could send for help…

The sound of machinery whirring caused you to look around in alarm, only to wince in pain when the rectangular panels settled on your back, needles pressing into your skin. Dr. Zola walked out in front of you, gesturing to the HYDRA agents in the room.

“Today, we gain another soldier to become, not a fist of HYDRA, but a scythe. Agent (L/N) possesses a genome that, when unlocked with my research and exposed to the serum, will result in enhancements beyond any normal man.”

He turned to you as scientists loaded the glowing vials into the machine. “HYDRA owes the United States a large debt for sending you, Fräuline.”

You sneered. “The US didn’t send me, you Nazi piece of shit. I came here myself, because I was looking for Sergeant James Barnes.” Leaning forward as far as the machine would allow you, you spat at the scientist. “Where the fuck is he?”

Zola only grinned. “You need not worry about the Sergeant, Agent (L/N). You really should be worrying about yourself.”

The needles fired, piercing your skin as you yelled out in pain. Immediately, you could feel a burning feeling rush through your veins, traveling through your body.

Through your watery eyes, you caught a glimpse of your torso. You’d been stripped down to a tank top and shorts, but you could see a glow tracing your veins.

When the vials finally emptied and you had screamed your throat sore, the cuffs were unlocked and you were pulled down from the platform. Your vision blurred as you were led from the room, into a smaller containment cell, and strapped down on a cot.

And then the piercing, burning pain in your shoulder blades began.

———————————————————————

New York, 2012.

In a small shawarma joint, Steve sits down with his new team. The future has been an adjustment, but something in him tells him that he won’t have to go it alone anymore.

As annoying as Howard’s son is, and as strange as the doctor and Norse god can be, they almost remind him of the Howling Commandos. Loud, but caring about each other no matter how irritating. Family, though a bit dysfunctional.

He knows you and Bucky would be proud of him. Proud of making his way through this uncharted territory with new friends.

When he woke up from the ice, he almost had hope you’d survived, maybe as an old woman in a nursing home, bitterly raving to anyone who would listen about your idiotic best friends.

But when he was told you’d gone missing looking for his and Bucky’s bodies, his optimism had been dashed. Of course you wouldn’t give up. It would’ve been unlike you.

Frowning slightly, Steve pulls a carefully folded picture from the pocket of his new uniform. Though worn by time, the image is still clear.

Him, Bucky, and you, all laying across each other on a cot back at Camp Lehigh. Planning raids took a lot of energy, and often you three would just collapse on top of each other in the meeting room instead of returning to your barracks.

He’s complaining about a poster of his USO tours as you and Bucky listen. The latter is grinning as you roll your eyes affectionately, clearly annoyed with his whining.

“Who’s that?” the redhead assassin, Natasha, asks. When Steve shows her the picture, she nods. “Barnes and (L/N), right?”

She leans back in her chair. “For what it counts, I’m sorry. They seem like they were a lot like you.”

When he raises a curious brow, she smirks. “Stubborn.” And she goes back to eating her food, exchanging ASL with the archer as he shovels falafel into his mouth.

‘They were,’ Steve thinks. ‘They really were.’

———————————————————————

Siberia, 1946.

“Get the fuck away from me!” you shouted, fighting against the chains as your wings flapped desperately.

The process of growing them was torturous. Firstly, the wings had to burst from your back in what you could only describe as lava pouring from your spine. Then, the wound had to heal around the new wings.

Since the human body wasn’t designed to support two extra limbs, your entire center of gravity was shifted. Learning to walk was a whole new process, much less learning to fly. For months, you were clumsy and unstable, and even a year later you could barely fly. Not to mention the constant upkeep they required in the form of preening.

You hated the ink-black feathers that were a part of you. You hated how intimidating they were. They looked like a physical embodiment of death.

But that was just the beginning.

Whatever Zola had injected into you had given you enhanced healing and strength. Plus some… new powers.

You didn’t even realize you had them until one day, when fighting against the soldiers dragging you back to your cell, blinding light poured from your hands, blinding the men. The fluorescent lights had crackled above you, flickering on and off as you heaved gasps of air.

Later, they had thrown you into a room with another soldier and ordered you to fight. You won, but the man was bleeding out. He was young, maybe not even 20. You had knelt down, ghosting a hand over the wound on the back of his head.

As you did so, the skin stitched back together, his bruises faded, and his heart rate returned.

In your opinion, it was a sick joke. An angel working for the devil.

You froze as a scientist approached, monitoring your heart rate and breathing as they shoved you into a chair. It was like they were preparing you for something.

You growled at the man. “Get off me before I rip those glasses off your face and shove them up your goddamn-“

“There is no need for such threats, Asset.” Zola.

They’d taken to referring to you as an asset, a soldier, sometimes the “Scythe of HYDRA” or “The Angel of Death”. It was pretentious.

You had forgotten your serial number months ago, much to your despair, but you still remembered so much.

Your name was (Y/N) (L/N), you were an agent for the US, you were born in 1918, and you were still looking for Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.

You sat in the chair, glancing around as two pieces of machinery lowered. A mouth guard was shoved into your mouth and a drip was pressed into your arm.

Dr. Zola stood before you. “If all goes correctly, you will be the perfect soldier for HYDRA. If not…” He shrugged. “Well, we have a plan for that.”

The machine settled on your forehead and cheek, and before you knew it, blinding pain shot through you. He circled you, shouting unfamiliar words.

“Свет, ворон, восемнадцать…”

You screamed over the words, unable to focus on anything but the dangerous amount of electricity surging through your nerves.

When he was done, the machine relented, pulling away as you shuddered and spat out the mouth guard. Your entire body was trembling, whether from fear, pain, or energy you weren’t sure.

“Солдат?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes.

“What?”

Zola sighed in disappointment, gesturing to a soldier. “It’s not ready. Put her on ice, and bring the other asset in.”

You didn’t have the energy to protest, much less comprehend the oddly familiar man led past you. From the looks of it, he was too drugged up to recognize you either. A flash of silver caught your eye, but your hazy vision slid onto the next thing.

In a flash, you were led into a chamber, your wings tucked inside, and the lid lowered. Lazily looking around, you blinked slowly as a hissing sound filled the tube.

The last thing you remembered was an all-encompassing cold, and then darkness.

———————————————————————

Siberia, 1968.

Over time, Dr. Arnim Zola perfected his brainwashing machine. And every so often, he would pull his two favorite assets from their cryotubes to train them, perfect their enhancements, and reattempt his machine.

It didn’t work until nearly 20 years after the first attempt.

First on the Winter Soldier, and then on the Angel. And that was when the fun could really begin.

You tried to fight it, but eventually, the electricity combined with the carefully designed trigger words managed to carve out every memory.

Your name was… what was it? What did you do for work? The year you were born was completely lost to you, and two names you couldn’t quite remember floated around your head.

In your place was the Asset. The Angel. And she was ruthless.

With two clean slates to work with, HYDRA set out to create its best killers. Learning languages and fighting styles was a cinch when your mind was empty, after all.

HYDRA entered a new age of power. Thanks to its Fist and its Scythe, it had full control of governments, trade deals, even international conflicts. Assassinations, bombings. Anything to push HYDRA’s representatives into power.

And they owed it all to their best soldiers.

While the Winter Soldier was famous for his brutality, the Angel was more renowned for her precision. Once a bow was given to you and you were trained to form shapes with the light that poured from your hands, you were a deadly force, firing arrows of light that pierced through materials and left no evidence behind.

The darkness of your wings was intentional, a way to fly undetected through the night, and your gift for healing meant you were rather sturdy.

The Winter Soldier was a perfect assassin, and the titanium prosthetic combined with super-strength meant that his victims would be spared no pain. There was just one problem.

The two were unstable.

Prone to dissociating, wandering, and violent fits of rage that required HYDRA to enlist more guards every month as replacements.

The Soldier was easy to contain. A sturdy enough cage would hold him. But the Angel’s powers meant possible blinding, searing burns from pure light, and powerful gales from a single flap of your wings.

So in 1968, HYDRA came to the conclusion to introduce the two. Companionship was a need ingrained into human brains, unable to be removed. And considering that the two assets had a connection in the past…

Worst case, they could wipe the two. Best case, their most valuable killers would combine into an even more deadly team.

In a small room, guarded and heavily monitored, the Winter Soldier and the Angel of Death were introduced. You circled each other for a bit, each curiously analyzing the other.

Until you sat down on the floor, patting the spot in front of you. Your wings fanned out behind you, resting on the cold tile in a swathe of black.

The former followed suit, unsure of what to do. Neither had free will very often, so now, left to your own devices, there wasn’t much to do.

“What’s your name?” the Angel asked. English was always the easiest language for you, despite knowing dozens. A bit of the woman hidden underneath peering out.

“The Winter Soldier,” he replied. You shook your head.

“What do you want me to call you?”

Want. What did he want? He thought for a moment. “… Winter.” You nodded. Not like you could judge the odd choice. You didn’t even know if you had a name. “And you?”

Hmm. You didn’t like the names they called you. They all seemed so… technical. More so observations than names.

“… Bird.” Winter frowned.

“Bird?” he asked. You nodded, gesturing to your wings. They fluttered lightly. He reached out. “Can I?”

That shocked you. No one had ever asked before. The scientists and guards were rather rough with your wings, despite their sensitivity.

The limbs seemed to react to the slightest of stimulation, jolting away from unexpected touches.

But he asked. He asked and was willing to back off if you said no. Something in you stirred, like a deep familiarity. The man sitting across from you. The names you couldn’t remember.

Who were you?

The brief flash was gone as soon as his cold metal arm touched your wing. The chill raced up your body, causing you to lightly shudder. He recoiled instantly, only leaning back in when you nodded.

This time with the flesh arm, he ran his hand through the soft feathers, marveling at the feeling. Even if they scraped out the man inside, a bit of his curiosity remained.

You weren’t allowed to interact much longer. Led away from each other and to your separate rooms, the next time that the two interacted was right before going back under the ice.

———————————————————————

New York, 2013.

Steve ducks his head as he passes by a group of children in the Smithsonian. Every so often, he visits his exhibit to reminisce and get in his monthly angst.

The exhibit tells a story of a hero lost to time, emerging victorious and leading Earth’s Mightiest Heroes to victory.

They hardly mention the man wandering past the glass boxes and articles. But that was how this life was. It was his job to be a symbol.

These days, it seemed to be getting harder. Fury was sending him on mission after mission, and Steve was getting fed up. Plane rides seemed to account for most of his days, nursing wounds taking up even more time.

He pauses in between two exhibits. On his right, a display describes his life in the simplest terms, grazing over his childhood. An entire paragraph is dedicated to his death that day on the train.

On his left, another display speaks of how you broke molds, defied expectations, and mysteriously disappeared one day from Camp Lehigh. All you left behind were journals and a locked box that was yet to be opened.

Pausing to make sure no one is around, Steve lets his guard down.

“I turned down a mission today,” he says, fiddling with the dog tags around his neck. “It was to the Grand Canyon. And… knowing how badly you two wanted to go-” Pausing to sniffle a bit, he composes himself.

“It didn’t feel right to go without you. Nothing feels right without you.”

“I know the world expects 72 years to be enough for me to move on, but for me? Two years isn’t nearly enough time to come to terms with it all.”

“But I think…” He sighs, feeling far too tired. “I think I’m at the end of the line here. Don’t know how you did it, (Y/N), even if it was just for a few weeks.”

Neither of your pictures respond.

———————————————————————

Ulan-Ude, Russia, 1976.

“Солдат, я вижу целевую машину [Soldier, I have eyes on the target’s vehicle].” Perched atop a building, you tapped a hand to your comms. The Winter Soldier lurked in an alley across from you, eyeing the approaching car’s headlights as they pierced through the night.

The target stepped out, swaggering into the high-society meeting unaware of the two assassins monitoring his every move. The Soldier adjusted his grip on his knife, grimacing as his metal arm struggled to calibrate in the cold.

The frost coating it had sent chills radiating from his shoulder, only increasing the constant pain. He groaned aloud as the car pulled away, settling in for the waiting game.

“Что-то не так [Is something wrong]?” you asked, ready to swoop down. He shook his head. “Рука [The arm]?” His quiet huff told you you were right.

You tsked, slumping down on the roof. Your wings shivered, the wind buffeting the soft feathers from your exposed spot. Holding out a hand, you focused as a small, glowing, golden orb appeared. The warm glow softened your clenched jaw, even under the overbearing mask restricting your face.

“Ангел? Что делаешь [Angel? What are you doing]?” You closed your fist immediately, suffocating the light.

You frowned. “Мне жаль [I’m sorry].”

Before he could respond, the doors flew open as the target stumbled out, clenching his stomach. The tainted drink had run its course. His chauffeur and bodyguards pulled the car around as you drew back your bow, empty of arrows.

“Стрельба [Firing],” you said, feeling power flow from your fingers as a line of golden light formed, feathering out and sharpening into an arrow.

You took out the driver first, then the two bodyguards in the car. The arrows dissolved as quickly as they were formed, only leaving a burning wound in their place.

Two guards remained as you spread your wings, soaring through the falling snow as the Soldier emerged from his hiding spot.

A blinding flash of light incapacitated one guard, who you shot at point blank range with another arrow. The other took a knife to the gut as a metal hand wrapped around his throat.

You grabbed the politician, dragging him back to the alleyway as he squirmed under your grip. Slamming him into the wall, you aimed another arrow as the Soldier began his interrogation.

Instead of focusing on his words as you should’ve been, you could only see one thing.

Blood, dripping from his side and soaking his tactical gear. His voice called out to you.

“Солдат? Унеси это [Soldier? Take him out].”

With another flash of light, a whoosh of wings, and the revving of a motorcycle, you were gone. And a few miles later, you and the Winter Soldier slipped into a safe house a few miles away.

You scanned the room, checking for hidden cameras or mics. When it was clear, you turned to the other soldier, removing your mask as he did the same.

“You’re bleeding,” you whispered. Winter nodded. “Does it hurt?”

“… Yes. It hurts.”

With a light scoff, you gestured to your back and his arm. “When doesn’t it? Sit, sit,” you insisted, pushing him towards a couch.

He begrudgingly did so, stiff and clearly uncomfortable. You removed your gloves, rinsing your hands in a worn sink. Kneeling next to him, you gave the most reassuring smile you could.

Your nerves were still on high alert from the assignment, and healing someone wasn’t exactly a non-invasive experience. Your powers allowed you to feel the pain in a person’s body, target it, and heal them.

You had fused bones, sewn together frayed nerves, mended muscles, and removed poisons and infections from countless bodies. One wrong move could mean growing a new bone, or stitching together the wrong nerves and paralyzing your patient. That came in handy for a few assignments.

Nonetheless, it was meticulous and dangerous work, and HYDRA had been sure to give you a thorough education in medical sciences. Some part of you felt you already knew the basics, though.

Winter had only let you help a few times, and every time you could feel the unending pain in his left shoulder. He wouldn’t let you touch it, however.

“May I?” He sighed, before nodding. You hovered a hand over the knife wound, taking deep breaths as the muscles and veins were mended by a golden thread. Although you could sense a deep ache radiating from where the prosthetic was attached, you avoided the damaged nerves.

Winter hissed at the sensation.

“I know, I know. Just a little more,” you soothed, watching the skin mend. Your powers left no scarring, no evidence of the injury. Just a bit of a sore spot that would fade in hours. “There. Good as new.”

He held out a hand for you to take as you stood, shaking away a bit of dizziness. Your wings shivered, snow-soaked and practically numb. Sure, you were a super-soldier, but that didn’t mean you were immune to the icy Russian nights.

Winter rose from the couch, wordlessly heading to the fireplace. Within minutes, a small fire roared, heating the small safe house. He turned to you as you removed the top layer of your tactical gear, leaving you in a long-sleeved top. Cutouts in the back allowed your wings a wide range of motion, but also exposed you to the elements.

“Your turn,” he muttered, only waving a bloodied hand at the ground.

You sank onto the dingy carpet, letting the warmth wash over you. Winter rustled around the kitchen before returning with a towel.

“Do you want help?” he asked. He sounded almost hesitant.

You unfolded your wings, casting dark silhouettes around the room. They were imposing, dark, and reached almost ten feet across. They scared people.

But the Winter Soldier only ever looked at them in awe.

So you nodded and allowed him to wipe the ice from your wings, to dry the rain soaking your bones, and to fix the feathers that had fallen out of place. As he worked, you began to relax. As your head drooped for the nth time, he tapped your shoulder.

“Bird?” You didn’t respond, only slumped more. There wasn’t a bed in the safe house, just a dingy couch that pulled out into a bed. You two could share, but that meant putting you to sleep.

After pulling out the couch and carefully maneuvering around your wings, Winter lifted you from the floor and laid you on the worn, makeshift bed. Just as he was about to lay down on the cold floor, your hand shot out, grabbing his. Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch.

You murmured an incoherent mess that ended with, “-stay,” and a strong tug on his metal arm. He stumbled onto the couch, finally giving in and laying down. One of your wings settled on top of him, acting as a blanket.

In the morning, when HYDRA found you both intertwined under your feathers, they resorted to wiping you both again. They couldn’t take risks.

———————————————————————

Washington, d.c., 2014.

Steve sighs as a battered Nick Fury stands up, carefully choosing his words.

In the past minute, Steve’s gotten two very bad pieces of news. For one, SHIELD is compromised. And two, his apartment may be bugged.

The second is more embarrassing than a security risk. He’s been ranting to the wall for the past week, growing more and more fed up with SHIELD. He supposes he has an excuse to hate them now.

“Just… My friends,” Fury says, turning his phone around to reveal the words, “Only you and me.”

Great. So no one else knows about SHIELD’s infestation. Steve glares at him.

“Is that what we are?”

Across the street, opposite his apartment’s window, two figures stand. The Winter Soldier analyzes how Captain America stands, the direction he’s looking.

You have an empty bow drawn, waiting for the signal.

HYDRA‘s attempts to keep the both of you at arm’s reach have failed every time. It’s an endless cycle. They wipe you, you both go on a mission, and memories begin to resurface. Past missions curled up around a fire, the countless wounds of his you've healed. Previously blood -soaked hands gingerly preening your wings.

With a shake of your head, you refocus.

“Готовы, когда вы [Ready when you are],” you say. The Soldier aims his gun, glancing over to watch a glowing arrow materialize at your fingertips. Instead of saying anything about how enthralling it is, he fires.

You do the same seconds later, grabbing the Soldier by the hand and taking off into the sky, landing on a nearby roof and sprinting towards the far end. A crash and shattering of glass behind you warned of the Captain’s swift approach.

But you don’t look back, only prepare to launch off the building. Winter, however, does.

And sees a shield heading straight for your back, right between your wings. He rushes to the side, catching the shield with a glare at the blond superhero. You screech to a halt, eyes widening at the vibranium disc in the titanium hand.

A blow from that would have incapacitated you. And with no way to escape, you would’ve been killed by the owner of that shield. Winter flings it back at the man, grabbing your hand to leap from the building and fly into the night.

Your hands are so shaky you almost drop him a few times mid-air, but instead, you make it back to HYDRA’s nearest base, providing a mission report before rushing off to a small room. Two cots are placed on opposite sides of the room.

You both relax as Winter slides the door shut. No cameras in here. HYDRA didn’t care what its favorite weapons did in between missions, so long as you completed your assignments.

Immediately, you turn towards him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how close that was-” He cuts you off, grabbing your hand with far less urgency than he had a while earlier.

“You’re safe now. We’re okay. HYDRA said that these are our last missions. We can get out,” he whispers. He isn’t exactly lying. HYDRA had promised that your work was coming to a close.

They swore that they’d give you enough money to travel wherever you wanted, so long as you would answer if they called. The words felt too familiar. Like they’d been used to bargain with you before.

“We can get out, Bird.”

You frown.

“Can we?”

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #like the dawn #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x female reader #captain america the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #stucky x winged!reader

238 notes · View notes

fluffytriceratops · 7 months

Text

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 - 𝐚. 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 [chapter three]

chapter three: "𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜, 𝚖𝚛. 𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊."

notes: i too really want to take a fat nap with kuroo. 😭👌💕

chapter two: "bootymeat."

chapter four: "i want some lettuce."

««•◦ ✪ ◦•»»

Saturday, 2:13 pm.

y/n

hey bo, does your practice

still start at 3 today?

Saturday, 2:26 pm.

tetsu

lmao- i think it does.

y/n

i can't believe he ignored me ehu– 😭

queen keiji

he's probably just distracted

why'd you want to know?

tetsu

ik how rude

y/n

i wanted to see him play today! i just finished my homework and thought it'd be fun.

tetsu

finished or gave up on? 😏

y/n

shush.

kendoll

do you really want to see him play or is this about seeing if atsumu is the guy you groped?

y/n

...

can it not be both?

tetsu

it's totally the latter. tho i must admit, i'm curious too.

queen keiji

same here. did you need a ride, y/n?

y/n

don't team up on me! and if you're offering, yes, i'd love that.

queen keiji

if you're ready we can leave in five. unlike you i actually finished my homework.

y/n

low blow keiji, low blow. but yeah im good to go.

wait, are you home rn? i thought it was just me?

queen keiji

ive been here the whole time...

y/n

you have? wait where is everyone rn?

tetsu

kenma and i went out for food. and kei is out with family.

y/n

WHAT!? WITHOUT ME?? RUDE!!!

kendoll

the second we walked into your room to ask if you wanted to come you threw your stuffed animals at us and told us to get out.

y/n

i was trying to study and you guys always distract me!

tetsu

she has a point.

queen keiji

well if you're ready y/n, we should go.

y/n

okie, im coming

if you have leftovers i will forever love you guys

kenma

we'll bring you back something tasty

y/n

ahh thankies!! 😊

━

Y/n slid off her bed, bare feet hitting the cold hard wood floor. She scrunched her nose and moved towards her sock drawer. She pulled on the thickest pair of knee highs she could find, grabbed a scrunchie so she could tie her hair up and walked out her room.

Akaashi was waiting for her in the living room by the door. When Y/n entered, she was holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she tied her hair up into a unkempt bun. "I thought you said you were ready?" Keiji said, slipping his own phone away as he glanced her over. Y/n pouted, "I am." She took her phone and shoved it into the pocket of the hoodie she was wearing. Why she didn't just do that in the first place, she didn't know. That's what happens when you work with half a brain cell.

Akaashi arched a brow. Y/n was in nothing but her pajamas. She wore an black t-shirt that said "sorry I'm late, I didn't want to come", followed by a pair of sweats he was sure belonged to Bokuto. Lastly she wore a sweater he knew to be Kuroo's, she had it unzipped at the moment, but he knew it wouldn't be long till she zipped it up. Y/n was always complaining about being cold.

Y/n's face burned at the sight of him looking her over and she crossed her arms over her chest subconsciously. "Don't look at me like that! I'm comfy!" Akaashi chuckled to himself lightly and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't say anything else as he opened the door of their house and went outside. Y/n pouted to herself as she shoved her feet into her outdoor slippers and followed after him sluggishly. "Meanie." She mumbled as she opened up the passenger side door and hopped inside.

"Baby." He teased, sticking the keys into the ignition and waiting for her to be buckled in before backing out of the driveway.

"It's too cold to dress up, besides we're just going to see Bo's practice so it's not like I have to look good or anything." She reasoned, leaning back in her seat, face inches away from the window to allow her breath to fog up the glass. She drew a little smiley face with her finger, her own lips quirking up.

"I thought you were going to see if the guy you hit on was Atsumu?" Keiji stopped at a red light and peeked over towards her, shaking his head in mild amusement at her antics. Y/n blushed and shot him a look, "I didn't hit on him, I just hit him, accidentally." She didn't miss the light roll of his eyes and she stuck her tongue out at him childishly. "And I was- am? I don't need to dress up for some guy."

Keiji smiled, "No, you don't." And they left it at that. The rest of the drive was relatively silent. They didn't live far from the university, so it didn't take long for them to get there. It was cloudy outside, with a chance of (meatballs) some light rain. Y/n didn't mind such weather, she had always liked the rain.

Once they were inside the building, Y/n stood beside Akaashi as they looked towards the court. Practice should be starting soon and most of the teammates were already here warming up. The h/c haired female spotted Bokuto almost immediately and rose her hand in a wave to try and catch his attention. It didn't take long for Bo to spot them and he grinned nearly as wide as Cheshire cat. Returning the wave vigorously.

"Come, let's go find a seat." Akaashi said, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her towards the benches.

Once they had taken their seats, practice had basically begun. Y/n's eyes roamed the room to see if she recognized any of the other players. Leaning close to Akaashi, she whispered, "So which one is Atsumu?"

Keiji started looking for him, humming to himself softly. "I don't see him. I don't think he's here yet. Practice technically doesn't start for another ten minutes, so I'm sure he's just taking his time or got distracted by something."

Y/n nodded in understanding. The male from before wasn't here either, which meant that it was a good chance it could be this Atsumu guy. She began to feel nervous. What exactly was she looking for here? Another chance to embarrass herself? It wasn't like she was planning on asking him out or anything. She was just curious to know who he was. Unfortunately, Y/n had always been too curious for her own good.

Her knee started to bounce anxiously. Akaashi glanced down at it, noticing she was starting to fidget. This normally meant Y/n was in her head too much. She tended to overthink and stress over nothing. He had known her since high school, it was something he had managed to pick up over time. He placed his hand upon her knee and gave it a reassuring pat. Y/n blinked out of her thoughts and peeked up at him. Offering the dark haired male a thankful smile. Keiji sent her a small one in return. "Try not to think about it too much, just focus on Bo's playing. You know he'll want to talk to you about it afterwards."

Y/n nodded in agreement and turned her gaze onto the court. As if by some miracle, her phone dinged with a text notification. The perfect distraction.

━

kurooo

hey, you guys there yet?

is atsumu the one??

y/n

yeah we're here

and idk, he isn't here yet.

probs on his way tho-

kurooo

ahh

kenma brought you back a slice of pie

and i have some leftover onigiri if you want it?

y/n

ooh yummy!

yes please!!

thank you~! 🥰🥰

wait- are you guys back now?

kurooo

you're welcome!! 😋

and yeah, we just got here a few mins ago

y/n

we could have wait for you if you wanted to come

kurooo

ye- but kenma wanted to play video games

and honestly i didn't even think about that lmao

y/n

oh lmao

well it's not too late, you could always drive by yourself?

kurooo

true

but i'm so full-- i could really use a nap

y/n

LOL

well you certainly deserve it you do work really hard, tetsu ^^ i'm sure bo wont mind, as long as you come see him play sometime soon, or buy him some meat, he'll forgive ya haha

kurooo

stop.

you're gonna make me blush

and yeah, i'll probably just go another time and buy him something to eat afterwards

y/n

but it's true!! you do work really hard!

and okie, i'll let him know so he's not too dissapointed

kurooo

haha thanks.

and okay- let me know how it goes!

i wanna know if tsumu is the one. 🤗

y/n

lol otay, i will

have a good nap~

kurooo

the very many thank yous.

tell akaashi i said hi.

y/n

i will!

night tetsu~~ 😊

kurooo

i mean, it's not night but-

night y/n~~ 😊

━

Y/n looked up from her phone towards Akaashi. "Kuroo says hi."

Keiji turned his gaze away from his phone, "Is that who you were texting?" She nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "Yeah, he wanted to know what was going on. I told him nothing happened yet. He and Kenma just got back."

Akaashi nodded, "They probably could have come if they wanted. I wouldn't mind waiting for them."

"That's what I said! But Kenma wanted to play video games and Tetsu's taking a fat nap. He'll be out for a while I'm sure."

"Sorry I'm late! Ran into a little trouble on the way here."

"Oh, Atsumu's here."

Y/n turned towards the voice, eyes widening a fraction at the guy who walked in. He looked extremely familiar. Probably because she had at least one class with him and he was the one she slapped. Gasping quietly to herself, Y/n grabbed Akaashi's arm to gain his attention. Not really noticing that she already had it. "That's him! He's the guy I hit!"

As if he had known they were talking about him, Atsumu suddenly looked over towards them. His eyes locked with Y/n's and a sultry smirk crawled onto his lips. She could feel heat rise to her cheeks, and she found herself being unable to tear her gaze away. What was with this guy!? It felt like he could knock the air out of her by looking at her alone. Her grip on Akaashi's arm tightened unintentionally.

It was a mistake coming here, wasn't it?

Oh what she'd give to be napping with Kuroo right about now.

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areseebee · 2 years

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This isnt a prompt, just something Ive been thinking about, not only is James sort of taking her brother's place in the house and in the family, but imo its also thrown Michelle from being the little sister with a big brother, to being almost like a big sister for James (in that shes having to look out for him) which must be a hell of a shock to the system. Not to mention James going from being alone and an only child who probably never saw much of his family apart from his Mum, to being in the middle of this extended family and having a sibling relationship for the first time. I have a lot of feelings about the Mallon/ Maguire cousins ;_;

such good points, anon, you’ve really had me thinking about this for a couple of days, and it’s sent me down a small rabbit hole and resulted in the unfocused, unwieldy train of thought you see below. i have lots of feelings about the mallon/maguire cousins too! and i don't feel like i've even begun to fully unpack them here.

but i’m thinking about the timeline, especially. i’m doing the math and estimating that niall is probably 2-3 years older than michelle. could conceivably be more, could conceivably be less, but this feels like a good sweet spot to me. but it also likely makes niall an actual child still (i’m thinking he’s 17 when he’s imprisoned, which makes michelle potentially 14 – a year before s1 derry girls) and that’s just really devastating.

and if this all happens only a year before james moves to derry, how incredibly crushing it would be to see james move in, like deidre is just replacing niall who michelle isn’t allowed to go see or even really talk about so it’s like he doesn’t even exist anymore.

so for michelle, james is there, in her house, staying in her brother’s room – it’s only been, like, a week and everyone keeps calling it “james’s room,” even her ma, as if niall hasn’t barely been gone for even a year. it gets her boiling every time – and now she can’t even fucking be rid of him at school. honestly, they should all just let him get beat up at the boys’ school, the english prick – maybe he’d learn to stop making those faces like he’s just tasted something minging every time he looks around at his surroundings.

she’s tried being nice but he doesn’t seem to get it, not with the way he’s always got that sour look on his face. fine then, but she just wishes he’d get it through his thick skull that she doesn’t want him here just as much as he doesn’t want to be here, he’s not special for it.

the night before the start of new term, she thought everyone had gone to bed so when her ma knocks, she lets out a startled, “jesus christ!” and then a “fuck!” because now she knows she’s going to be in for it – for staying up too late, and for the language (as always).

but then her ma comes in looking so tired and doesn't even say anything about the late night or the language, and just sits, perched at the end of michelle’s bed and asks her, “promise you’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you, michelle?”

michelle is so shocked that all she says back is, “aye, mammy, i promise.” which she really fucking wishes she hadn’t said because now she’s going to have to actually do it.

and james doesn’t really, fully understand it. like, he gets that his older cousin is in jail for killing someone – not surprising, if he’s being quite honest. niall always freaked him out a little, and he’s got an…interesting taste in music, if james is going off the posters on the walls – but no one really talks about him until michelle catches him taking down a dead kennedys poster and goes absolutely mental on him.

the next weekend, when his uncle martin tells him he’ll help clean up the room so james can feel more at home, james notices how gingerly martin takes down the posters, rolling them up and labeling them carefully like they’ll be sorted through and hung up again someday.

he feels really bad that he didn’t ask first when he started taking things off the walls before and makes sure he eats all of the cowboy supper they order from fionnula’s that night without complaint.

#thinking about how dierdre talks about looking at james #and hating him for being english #has a new color to it now #i wonder how much of james reminds her of her son #and only in the painful ways #ask #derry girls #derry girls spoilers #michelle mallon #james maguire

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luminnara · 2 years

Note

WHAT SONGS OH IVE BEEN WAITING.

For context I'm gonna choose this takes place around 1990, all the Hawkins shit is over and its enough of a gap that its believable Steve has moved away and spent a good amount of time with billy, the boys and reader. So, we begin, this might be long

Steve: Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie or Don't You (Forget About Me)

I think Under Pressure because something about him being able to relate to the lyrics grounds him, he is under pressure constantly even though he doesnt have to be but it reminds him of all the good things that come out of his hard work.

Don't You (Forget About Me) because he has so many friends in Hawkins that he knows he has so many good memories with and it reminds him of driving around town with the kids or biking with the boys and billy and reader.

Billy: Livin' On A Prayer by Bon Jovi or Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran

Hungry Like The Wolf is about lust bringing out the animal instinct...Billy is a horny bugger...Billy is probably happy when thinking about TIMES with his partners...

Livin' On A Prayer I think, considering it's about making your way and love being able to get you through, and I think after meeting the boys and reader they really helped billy get back on his feet so I think he would like that.

Reader: Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler

They're their own hero but the boys, billy and steve are their heroes too.

David: The Chain by Fleetwood Mac

The chain is all about how Fleetwood's bond kept them together. Now I choose to imagine that David was turned maybe in the late 50s, early 60s. Hes the first turned. Hes been there as the rest of the boys have turned and theyve developed a bond. He was there for readers turn. And Billy's. He was there when they all fell for steve, a human. His group has an unbreakable bond.

Dwayne: Heroes by David Bowie

I imagine this for Dwayne because I can always think that Dwayne, despite being second turned in the late 60s, he is like the mature almost big brother esque. Hes protective, hes caring, he makes sure everyone has hope. Until steve came along it was his lone job but Dwayne is always trying to remind his boys and reader that something good will come.

Paul: Anarchy In The UK by The Sex Pistols.

Look. I choose to believe Paul was turned in the 70s and I cannot be convinced he DIDNT spend time in england during the height of the punk movement when the sex pistols were big. In fact I could believe he was born in england and was turned when he went to america for a holiday in the 70s or something after a sex pistols concert. I think he just loves this songs chaos, it reminds him of his teen years and the freedom he had to run riot (I mean he runs riot now)

Marko: Stand And Deliver by Adam and the Ants or Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins

Hes my favourite but hes a cocky little shit and Stand and Deliver is about a highwayman who is sick of people not having any style essentially. Like, look at Marko's jacket. That boy cares about style.

And Danger Zone, I think Marko is like go go go all the time. I think he was turned in the very early 80s, hes still pretty young, he is just on it. Hes a little ball of lightning and it's a reason people love him. He can cheer someone up like that.

(This took me like an hour) I hope you like it :)

I LOVE THISSSSSSSSSS

these are all so well thought out! Hungry like the wolf is the song I want Billy to eat me out to I mean what—

#the lost boys #stranger things x lost boys #Billy Hargrove #Steve harrington

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flightnotes · 2 years

Text

ahh this is late, hihi everyone i’m el (they/them) and i’m here to introduce my beloved meow meow minsol ❁ he’s pretty rough around the edges lol but maybe we’ll find something redeeming along the way ! here’s his bio, profile, inspo, and plots that once again ive failed to finish writing in time. unfortunately i’m rly busy today, but i still wanted to get this out so i’m not even later, and i fully intend to catch up on everyone’s intros tomorrow!!

background:

‘98, he/him, magpie familiar

adopted by a couple in a small town who didn’t know he was a familiar until he first shifted. he doesn’t know who his birth parents are but it never really concerned him

was pretty sheltered throughout childhood, used to be a lot softer and thought he could use what little powers he had to heal people, to heal the world

moved to jeju when he was 19, although it was less a “move” and more a “needed to be somewhere other than the place he grew up in,” and he had happened to hear that jeju was a safe haven for magic users. by then, he doubted there was really such a thing as safe -- but there must’ve been enough of an idealist left in him that he ended up here

a family took pity on him when he first arrived and allowed him to stay at one of their spare rooms in exchange for helping around their farm. after a few years, he scraped up enough to start renting his own place

his past is hidden behind like a level 10000 friendship lock tho you’re more likely to catch him making up lies abt his family than the truth 😭

due to undisclosed reasons, his voice has a permanent rasp to it, and he’s used to people thinking he smokes or smth. it’s even more noticeable when he shifts and tries to chirp and it just sounds scratchy/hoarse

exterior/personality:

like any dutiful corvid, he’s very protective of his hoard aka a small compartment in his room where he keeps his precious shiny things. he likes things with a shine to them the most, but specifically things made out of glass or silver

if he likes something but not intensely enough to squirrel it away, he displays it around the apartment. his shelves and tables are full of glass figurines n he has too many silverware than he knows what to do with it’s starting to become a problem

used to love shifting to sing and talk with other birds (he didnt have many friends ok......). singing is a little difficult and sometimes painful if he strains himself now but he took up a job at the sanctuary because he wanted to feel that sense of belonging again. v protective of the animals there so treat them right or else

very into movies and music -- had a late start on pop culture when he finally moved out lol so he’s currently voraciously burning through the classic movies, esp ones with memorable soundtracks

started dabbling in musical composition as an alternative after ruining his voice and thinks it would be cool to score a major film someday

for now tho he shoots his own short "films” and composes little pieces for them. really wants to do more serious projects but like. doesn’t know how to begin/feels like it’s too late yk?

outwardly, he exudes a lot of ur typical uhhh mysterious bad boy persona LMAO but he thinks it beats being mistaken for weak and someone who can be taken advantage of, so he lets people think what they want !

close friends (does he have any????) probably see more of a tired, self aware, and sheepish version of him who, like....actually laughs..... prone to angry rants about literally the smallest thing and then talking himself out of it after bc he gets embarrassed when he’s caught experiencing a strong emotion

has a big thing against being used for his abilities, which has extended into a strong aversion to being touched without his permission. hasn’t used his ability for anyone else for five years now and is perfectly content to keep it that way for the time

him: [sets one boundary] yea im a bad bitch

for those reasons, he’s adamantly against bonding right now, but he thinks a pack would sound nice,, if he could actually allow himself to get close enough to people, at least -_-

some wanted connections:

someone from the family who first gave him a place to stay. i imagine they’d still be pretty close now, but alternatively it could be the opposite where they didn’t get along so well or the muse resented that their parents just took him in like that

someone who’s also very into filmmaking + preferably makes films of their own! i’d love for him to have someone whose work he’d feel really in awe of and actively want to make music for, and for them to build up a little resume of independent films they’ve worked on together

someone else who either works at the sanctuary or just shares the same protectiveness over animals. one day, they find an injured animal and end up helping nurse it back to health together and eventually re-release it into the wild

a poor muse who works or hangs around somewhere he often visits (music shops, cafes, diners) and is terrified of him/convinced he hates them bc of his resting bitch face, but part of the reason he’s a regular there is actually bc he enjoys their company

a fellow corvid who has a bit of a hoarding problem too. maybe they enable each other, support each other’s collections, or are actively trying to defeat the habit together 😭

a fellow familiar or witch who doesn’t want to bond either but feels the same pressure to. they could sympathize and grab a drink about it together

someone who sees through his enigmatic little act and can call him out on just being afraid of vulnerability :\

i’ll write these up properly with more on his plots page eventually! tysm if you made it this far and i can’t wait to see everyone on the dash soon ><!!

#mgc: intro #&&. intro.

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xolborsaysstuff · 2 years

Text

The first time it happened... | Medical!Papyrus Undertale/deltarune AU. | In which skipping meals and worrying too much might actually be the death of you. | Part 1: Sans.

Sans. 16.

----

The first time it happened was when he was 16, six years after being diagnosed.

He was bone tired, working his tail bone off trying to help Papyrus, keep up appearances in front I everyone including said brother, and make sure he doesn't collapse in exhaustion during all this.

He failed the last one but in at least this was his soul's fault, it wasn't because he was lazy this time.

Sans had just finished his shift and was going to pick up Papyrus at the dreemur family's house (Papyrus usually went over there when sans couldn't pick him up in time). he had skipped breakfast and lunch for the 3rd or 4th day in a row now, but that was fine. He had been tasked with more difficult chores, but at least people seemed to be taking him more seriously despite his condition.

Every step felt more and more tiring, and he was losing the will to hurry. He sat down by the sidewalk, his breathing felt off and his vision looked blurry. He felt oddly numb. He was able to feel but it felt... Different. something felt missing.

He continued to sit there, unable to motivate himself to move...He was so, so tired, and Papyrus was probably having fun without him...so....

He jolted upright. What was he thinking, falling asleep next to the road when Papyrus was probably waiting for him? (Did papyrus even notice what time it was??) He stood up, and stumbled slightly as he continued to make his way over, doing his best to not fall asleep when it would be so, so easy. Now was not the time.

Monsters around him asked him if he was alright, if he needed help. He declined, monsters always asked if he needed help for every little thing after his diagnosis. It was getting annoying. (Maybe this time he should have listened though)

He was halfway there when he felt it. It felt like his soul had just... Stopped.

He dropped to his knees. The first time it happened, he hadn't noticed until it was almost too late. Thank kindness he had been close enough for Papyrus to see him while he was outside playing with Asriel. A bit unfortunate papyrus had to witness that though.

He woke up in the hospital with several IV drips attached to his soul. He patted Papyrus on the head as the younger skeleton sobbed. He cracked a few purposefully bad puns, and Papyrus laughed while still crying, hating the puns and responding with ones he thought were better.

Sans was okay for now, but it had been a close call. He was lucky it hadn't technically been a complete collapse. Thankfully, collapses were almost as slow as he was, he had told his little brother with a genuine smile that would have still been there had it not been permanent.

Three days later he had gotten out of the hospital.

And that was when it was the first time it happened for Papyrus.

----

End.

Hope you guys liked this, this is a short story talking about how I suspect the scenario of the first collapse for Sans and the first outburst for Pop went!! Also I like to think a song I'd out in Pop's playlist if I got to making one would be 'American Healthcare ' By Penelope Scott (sorry if I got the song name wrong it's been a while) I ken Sans ain't technically dead but that scene where Pop saw him technically works cause pop thought he was dying and he technically was.

Anyways next one up; Pop!!!

Toodles, men woman and members of the jury! As always have a good one! (Guess that's my catchphrase, I kinda like saying it!)

#papyrus #undertale #sans undertale #deltarune #Deltarune au #I swear I will eventually choose a tag to tag this AUMedical!pap #Medical!pap

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gettin-bi-bi-bi · 2 years

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For two years ive been saying i was bisexual but im constantly questioning if im actually bi or just idk appriciate womens beauty. Ive always been more attracted to men but there has been some women too. Ive been told that my problem is probably being raised in a homophobiac family and so Im probably just struggling with accepting myself but idk. I just feel like i haven t been attracted to enough women to be consideded bisexual. I had like an internalized arguement with myself the other night cause i started worrying what if im not bi and i was like straight girls dont do that (my name). So then Im like what if I am not bi and just overly sexualize women but not actually attracted. I have had two relationships one was with a boy and the first time we dated it lasted for a week and then we tried again and it lasted six months. The second one was with a girl that legit only lasted two days cause I chickened out with all the what if im not bisexual and just leading her own and omg I Don t wanna end up hurting her cause it turns out im not bi. And now i think I might have a crush on my best friend (shes the same girl i tried to date for two days) but when ever I start liking imagining us together i panick and distract myself by daydreaming over my current favorite man or woman celebrity. My mom has changed and now she jokes and says me and my best friend would be cute together and my step dad always jokes about how shes the one for me and i blush ( I haven t told either about my possible crush). I dont wanna even attempt talking to her about it cause one: I doubt she still likes me. Two: what if she does so we try again just for me to panick and end it again or we try again and I turn out to be straight and hurt her. To make matters worse we have been talking about moving in together. I just want to figure out who I am before attempting anything cause i dont want to hurt her. It feels weird saying i might like her and it scares me. Im sorry if this got confusing im just tired of questioning if i really am. Im also scared that maybe I just "like women" cause men like it. Like what if I do it without realizing thats the actual reason? I tried talking to my step dad and he didnt hear my concerns he just said your probably actaully straight and then when onto ask if i ever kissed a girl and i was like no ive never kissed anyone so he said well you gotta actually experience the stuff to know (idk if thats true but i heard you didnt have to have any experience at all) with both men and women I can imagine myself with them as long as i dont actually know them personally otherwise I panick and deny the crush as hard as possible low key have a fear of relationships cause almost everyone on my moms side was always in a toxic relationship (idk if it works like that but it kinda rubbed off on me that it would happen to me) I currently have this favorite woman celebrity who i make up little scenarios in my head for and it works but if I pause the story for just a second all this negative thoughts come in. Ive tried imagining dating my best friend who I might have a crush on but I cant it feels weird and wrong cause we have known each other for so long and at one point she was more like a younger sister even though shes only a few months younger and it just feels iffy. Ig I also tend to like women who are more cold and like badass and most the time older than me (with men they tend to be around my age or slightly older and with women they tend to be late 20s or older). I also feel like maybe I just like the aesthetic of a cute soft girl with a goth girl or other wlw aesthetics (mostly soft and goth girl idk I just really want that). Like what if i dont like women i just like wlw aesthetics

This message is a little all over the place so excuse me if I am misunderstanding somethings or didn't take everything in completely. What I gather is that you are young (teenager?) and riddled with self-doubt about your sexuality, which isn't helped by the fact that the people you try to confide in, like your step dad, are responding with biphobic stereotypes and misconceptions. I'm just going to try to sort through some of the themes that you touched on and give a brief opinion on it. At the end of the day only you can decide which label suits you and you can make of my input what you will.

Internalised biphobia: a lot of what you are saying just screams internalised biphobia to me. the fact you even mention a homophobic family could certainly be one reason for this but also society in general tends to be biphobic as well and we just pick up on that without even realising and then when we start to realise that we are bisexuals we get tormented by all of these intrusive negative thoughts about bisexuality. you are not alone with this - many bisexuals have to go through that unfortunately. but there's ways to unlearn your biphobia, some advice on that I have collected here, maybe it helps you. one aspect of internalised biphobia can be believing in misconceptions and stereotypes. for example the idea that "women are just pretending to be bisexual because men like it" is a classic biphobic myth. if anything this is for many women the only way to explore their bisexuality in a "socially acceptable" way. the stereotype of the "college girl who makes out with other girls on parties when drunk" might have a grain of truth to it but not because those girls are faking it but rather because this is the only scenario in which a heteronormative society gives them permission to experiment. another aspect of internalised biphobia is not believing in your own experiences and attractions. you have stated multiple times in your message that you are attracted to women. you've said it with different words but you say you have a crush on a girl, you have female celebrity crushes, you even noticed that you have kind of a type when it comes to women.... now imagine you'd have said all those things about men - would you then doubt that you're attracted to men? Probably not. But about women you have some double standard because of the internalised biphobia. Instead of seeing alll these expressions of attraction to women and taking it as a clear hint that you are bisexual, you think you are doing something wrong or "not queer enough".

attraction is a good thing: so many queer people, especially queer women are afraid of "oversexualising" women and being "predatory". but that's again just internalised queerphobia mixed with sexual shame. you are allowed to be attracted to women. you are even allowed to have sexual thoughts about women, to fantasise, to dream... and yes, you are also allowed to desire actually having sex with women and if you find one who wants to do it with you then you are allowed to do it. that's not "oversexualising" in any negative sense of the word. But yes, it means you are seeing women as sexual beings and that's okay because guess what? Most women are sexual beings. It is okay to "sexualise" someone - when it's only a fantasy then it is always okay because fantasies do not harm anyone! and when it's actually happening then it's okay when it's consensual. When you are physically intimate with someone, of course you sexualise them. If they consented to is then that's probably exactly what they want in that moment. It's okay. It's good and healthy.

you are still young, take a breath! I would like to remind you that you are still young and for most young people who are starting to explore their sexuality this is a confusing time because you are literally only just starting to learn what sexual or romantic attraction feels like and what types of people, what genders, what personalities, what aesthetics and body types you are drawn to. and btw: your step dad is wrong. you do not need to have experiences with all genders, or with anyone even, to know whom you are attracted to. I've never kissed James Spader and yet I know that I want. so why would you have to have kissed a women already in order to know that you want to?

"what if im not bisexual and just leading her own and omg I Don t wanna end up hurting her cause it turns out im not bi" listen... anytime someone enters a relationship they accept the risk that they might get their heart broken. ideally when a relationship ends it's on good terms and everyone involved mutually agrees that splitting up is for the better. but of course sometimes relationships end ugly. you can never guarantee someone that it will last forever. you can never guarantee that you will always love them or always be attracted to them. and likewise, they cannot guarantee this to you. it's an unrealistic (and I'd say also unhealthy) expectation to put on a partner. sometimes people fall out of love for many different reasons. maybe your personalities don't match, maybe you want different things in life... or, yeah, maybe you realise that your sexuality and their gender doesn't align. so what? your partner might get hurt if you have to break up for some reason but that is the risk that they took when they decided to enter a relationship. taking risks and making oneself vulnerable is part of life. I'm not saying that it won't hurt if/when that happens but I'm saying that I promise you (and your potential partner) that you'll get over it. I'm gonna say it again: you are still young. you are making your first experiences in the world of romance and sexuality. it's normal to be overwhelmed and to not know exactly what you like or want. you are just learning these things. but you say you want to "know who you are first" before dating a girl and tbh I think that's not really gonna work. how to have a relationship is something that you don't just know. you learn it over time... and you will make mistakes and you can either fix them or next time you get the chance try not to make the same mistake again. but you cannot learn these things all on your own. you need to engage with others and make those mistakes together, you know? which brings me to my last point...

communication: you seem to really like this girl and all that's keeping you away from dating her is your fear of doing something wrong or "using her". have you told her any of that? have you experessed your fears and explained why you "chicked out" last time? having an open conversation about this might dissolve some of that worry. maybe she has similar fears, maybe she doesn't think it's a big deal and wouldn't mind to be "an experiment". if you go into this openly saying "I am insecure about my sexuality, I am not sure if I am really bisexual but I do really like you and I would like to try this dating thing. I hope it's okay for you that I am not sure where this is headed yet." and then she can decide what to make of that and decide for herself if she wants to date you under those circumstances. I know it's not that easy to have these conversations but this is also something that you need to learn if you want to have fulfilling and healthy relationships with people. You said yourself that your family has a history of toxic relationships. I'm gonna take a wild guess that open and honest communcation is something they struggle with so as a general relationship and life advice: learn to talk about your fears and emotions. it will get you much further (and happier) than trying to handle it all on your own and never telling anyone what your concerns are.

Maddie

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dalleyan · 2 years

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Elfwine Chronicles (new LoTR stories, Once and Future King posted, 5-11-22)

Elfwine is out of bed late one night. (Fluff)

Once and Future King - (June, 5 IV)

Eomer quietly entered the darkened Golden Hall. Most everyone had gone to bed hours ago, but he’d had work he needed to finish first. Sometimes being king was a heavy burden to bear, and nights like this made him feel it more keenly. He was weary to the bone, and still his mind would not put to rest the concerns of his people. No matter how much he accomplished in a day, it seemed never enough for what needed doing. Surely Theoden or the kings of old would have conquered these difficulties much better than he...

His ears pricked at a soft sound near the throne, and he moved slowly toward it. As he drew closer, he recognized the childish voice of his four-year-old son, Elfwine, who should have been in bed by now. When he was close enough to make out the words, a smile came to his face.

“Send riders to Helms Deep!” Elfwine commanded regally.

“Elfwine, what are you doing?” his father asked.

“Hello, Papa. I am playing king!” he informed Eomer.

His tiny legs dangled from the front of the throne and he didn’t reach the back of the chair.

Eomer grinned. “Are you looking to take my place as king?”

“No, Papa! I will have my own country and be king there, and then I will come visit you and Mama.”

Eomer sat on the steps and leaned back against the leg of the throne, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There is only one problem with that. One day you will become King of Rohan, and rule here when I am gone. I do not think you can be king of two countries.”

“When you are gone? Where are you going, Papa?” the boy asked innocently.

Eomer rose, picked up his son, then settled himself on the throne with Elfwine in his lap. “Someday Papa will die and then you will be king,” he answered quietly.

Elfwine’s eyes teared up. “But I do not want you to die, Papa!”

He squeezed the boy tightly. “Everyone dies sometime, Elfwine. It is the way of life. But I do not plan on doing it any time soon, so do not fret. You will probably be even older than me when it happens.”

Elfwine considered this a moment, then said, “Well, I suppose if I am really old like you then it will not be so bad.”

Eomer choked back a laugh. At thirty-four he hardly considered himself ‘really old’, but he realized that to a child it might seem so.

“Do not be concerned about it. When the time comes, you will be ready. And, now, my little future king, I think it is time for you to go back to bed. Kings need their rest.” He kissed Elfwine on the head and stood up.

Elfwine turned and wrapped his arms around Eomer’s neck, whispering, “Do not worry, Papa. When you die, I will be a good king – just like you.”

Eomer smiled and hugged his son close. “I know you will, Elfwine. I am not worried.” Not anymore, he thought.

THE END

also on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38268832/chapters/97376949

#Eomer #Lothiriel #Elfwine #Lord of the Rings #LOTR #Elfwine Chronicles

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mvement · 1 year

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24/1/22

you know what. ive tried a lot of things. ive practiced, for however short or longer periods, many things. chronologically, ive given one or many tries at capoeira, ballet, acoustic guitar lessons, muay thai, street dances, and now volleyball. ive thought a lot, many and many times, about how i shouldve started doing one of those things earlier and dedicated myself to it, but im not sure i did want that. i mean, maybe i did and lacked the perseverance, but i can't remember. im not sure i cared enough for them, and if i did, well. theres no use in self guilty tripping now. but lately ive been realizing something truly, truly important. as obvious as it might be to anyone else, what's vital when learning or engaging with something new is practice. ive always had it easy with some things; ive never had trouble with grades, for example, even when i barely studied, and always caught up quickly enough whenever i slacked off a little too much. im not sure if this is the cause or only something that goes hand in hand with this next other trait, but i wasn't used to working hard on anything. if i wasn't immediately outstanding at something, id just quit it and think it wasn't for me. it's a little wild, and something ive first noticed probably many years ago, but only more recently - a few years, and every day more than the day before - started to stop taking things this way. something like that narrows your life and experiences in a very expressive way. especially if the things you quit are things you enjoy.

im not an immediate natural in any of the activities i mentioned. so of course, im not naturally outstanding in them either. i cant remember how i was with ballet, how i felt about it overall - i was only four when i started practicing it, and it lasted a year. it was the same with capoiera, but i have a guess i was a little bit scared of it, as i still was - still am, even if significantly less than before - when i first started muay thai (thai boxing, idk what its called outside of here) four years ago.

playing the guitar or any instrument is one of the coolest things in the world a person can have the ability of, honestly. i always liked whenever i mastered a song well enough for it to be recognizable, and i loved playing it, because its such a cool thing. still, i wasnt too keen on the process, and all the songs i actually wanted to learn were so damn advanced too. (muscle memory is, indeed, something a little wicked- i had those classes ten or eleven years ago, and i still remember the chords and everything to the songs i played the most. not relevant to the topic of this rambling, but whatever. who wants to hear me playing banana pancakes by jack johnson)

with muay thai, things were really different by the time i started. i had just realized i absolutely fucking needed physical activities to properly function as a human being. not exaggerating in the slightest - i'm someone else when im not doing anything. it's very, very dramatic. but it’s true. anyways, when i joined my first class on a random day, got in late for the warm up and ended up nearly not walking for a week for the first time because im a little insane and just showed up in that room and tried to keep up with everyone else immediately, it was with the excitement of doing something new and the knowledge that i really needed to do things. after a while, even if i still daydreamed constantly of being a badass and of just quickly escalating to a bruce lee woman reincarnation level, i knew i was enjoying the process. as scary as it was to join those sparring matches my teacher had everyone do, the exhilaration after working so heavily was just that - exhilarating. worth it all. addictive. and god, i was terrified at first. so defensive. with the eminent danger of a punch square to your face, one does that. you’re in there, quickly cornered against the net, and your every move is clumsy and held back, focusing too much on the fact that you’re just scared as fuck. eventually, though, you're taking advantage of a good landing right to your black belt teachers unprotected left temple on instinct. yes im gloating. yes it was one time. shut up. in all seriousness, you do accomplish exciting things. all in all, evolving and seeing change erupt right from and through and in your own body, to witness that with your own eyes and with a sense of wonder at you had just done... it's insane.

it's the compensation that knocks you over sideways for an entire day, and with a continued dawning of reality, you feel it in your whole body that you actually did that.

and im talking short period accomplishments. the day i achieve a black belt level, i will sprint through walls

as for dancing, ive loved it since i was fifteen. i watched that famous upgrade u choreography by willdabeast adams on youtube and i was gone. through there i found one of my favorite dancers, someone with a style that blows my mind every time. it's one of those things i have to work on or i will regret for the rest of my life. i love it dumb, and with my whole body and soul.

volleyball is the most recent of it all. it is actually not even a week since i first practiced it with an actual experienced amateur team. of course it all began not even a month ago when i was elbows deep into haikyuu episodes and just felt like starting yet something else and then asked my friend where she practices volleyball and if i could join. now here i am.

i meant to make this a full circle text with a concise conclusion wrapping things up, but im tired and i already did talk about what i came here to say. practice. its incredible, too, standing in a big court with a tall as fuck net and being initially so terrible at everything. but its because i want to that i keep doing it until i get better. its because of the excitement of just doing it in the first place. it's addictive, the power of doing something you like, of failing so incredibly and still have the will to do it more and more and more. it’s about finding out where life’s meanings are in for you, and realizing dedicating yourself to them is undeniable.

#diary #from the drafts

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deancaskiss · 3 years

Text

if cas pulls the little blade out of dean's back pocket with ease as if he touches dean that way all the time, then we deserve to see a scene where dean ruffles through the inside pockets of the trenchcoat pressed right against cas' heart and he pulls out an angel blade or cas' phone or even little first aid supplies cas starts carrying around for dean's benefit. maybe even a little keychain dean had bought cas at a gas station years ago and it lives in that inside pocket and dean plucks it out one time, blushes, and gives cas this soft little smile because not only did cas keep the keychain but he carries it around in the pocket closest to his heart

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #spn #deancas #destiel headcanon #destiel drabble #deancas headcanon #bex writing #deancas drabble #starrynightdeancas rambles and writes more destiel headcanons and drabbles #not tagging anyone bc this is just my rambling thoughts #ive posted and tagged too many times today so i dont wanna bother anyone else #but this is my thoughts on the back pocket blade revelation from yesterday #supernatural #spn 15x18 #15x18 #these thoughts are a little late and everyones probably moved on but ive been thinking about this for hours so sue me anyway heres my take #spncreatorsdaily

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psychovigilantewrites · 3 years

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Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt.

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

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unoriginalmess · 3 years

Text

A Second Mask: Chapter 4

Did that just happen?

Hello guys! It's me. I'm finally writing again. Sorry about the delay. I'm going to explain more at the end of the chapter, but I'm just going to keep the beginning short. So here is chapter 4:

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To say Adrien was concerned would be a huge understatement. He was downright disturbed. Its been weeks and still Marinette hadn't changed back to the happy, peppy, nice girl that he knew. AND SHE WOULDN'T EVEN TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT!

He tried to talk to her for a whole week after her original trasformation, but after the repeated firm rejections, he stopped altogether. He figured that maybe with some space, she might be able to work through whatever she was going through, but at this point, he's losing hope.

When he is feeling this distressed about something, he usually turns to his lady, but she has been acting weird too. Ever since she suggested they start sparring, she's started to show that she is going through kinda a rough time as well. She is the same ladybug when everyone is watching, but when it's just the two of them, she looks sad and tired. She has also started saying some concerning things while they are sparring. She has started talking about how she has started taking being Ladybug and the Guardian more seriously, and how she has less distractions now, which would be a good thing if she didn't say them so sadly.

The good thing is, the sparring has given him a chance to get out his aggression because of the whole Marinette-situation and his anger at his father in a safe environment. He didn't like the idea of hitting Ladybug at first (especially in the face) but with her not holding back on her hits, he felt more comfortable doing the same. It has helped them fight better too. He hopes that whatever Ladybug is going through in her civillian life will work itself out soon, but until then he will be there for her. He just needs to figure out how to be there for Marinette.

•••

Felix was making good progress with Marinette. After they first asked marinette about (insert fashion question of your choice here, I legit know nothing and I didn't have time to research anything for this chapter), she had started answering their questions on a daily basis. After a couple of days of that, she had started to rant to them about different things in the fashion world that were bothering her, exciting her, or confusing her that particular day. In response to that, they had started to respond to her rants with their own opinions on the subjects and even start their own rants.

It had gotten to the point where Felix would now consider them to be friends, though they know that Marinette would never call them as such, it was fine with them. They know she has trust issues, and they can understand why, so they are fine with being friends in everything but a name.

Felix was looking forward to their daily banter as they waited in their seat for Marinette to arrive. When she did, she was followed by a very pissed-looking Alya. Felix turned to look at her and noticed that she had what looked to be tears forming in her eyes. What they didn't notice was the little black butterfly that had entered through the window in the back of the room, and was making a beeline towards her.

•••

Marinette walked to school in yet another one of her newest fashion creations: a pair of oversized grey ripped jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. She was actually really liking her new look, and the comfort that it offered was just an added plus.

She was actually feeling excited to talk to Felix about Gabriel Agreste's newest fashion flop. They were the only person that she had met that actually cared about fashion as much as her. It made her happy to talk to them. It kind of scared her how excited she was. Shouldn't she be distancing herself from everyone? she thought to herself. No. Felix isn't my friend, they aren't close to me, they are just someone I talk fashion with. Like a coworker, yeah. Totally. Felix is just a coworker. ("Liar" says the inner voice in her head)

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she was pulled to the side by someone as she entered the courtyard. Her mind immediately thought of an akuma, when the person spoke.

"Marinette! Girl," Oh it's just Alya. Wait Alya? "How long are you gonna keep up this cry for attention? Are you really THAT jealous of Lila? I know that Adrien likes her, but that doesn't give you the right to act like this! And you are hanging out with Felix, who accused her of sexually harrassing Adrien on their first day here-?" She looked absolutely furious at her, but Marinette had heard enough. She cut Alya off in the middle of her presumably long rant.

"ALYA!" Said girl jumped at both the inturruption and the tone of voice used, "First of all, this isn't a cry for attention, if anything its a cry for leaving me the fuck alone. Second of all, I'm not jealous of Lila. I'm not in love with Adrien anymore, and haven't been for a while. You knew that I was dating Luka right? Why would I care who Adrien likes? Lastly, I am allowed to hang out with whoever I choose, whether you like them or not. It's none of your fucking business Alya, and if you think that I'm just some jealous, attention-seeker why do you even care?" With that last question she stormed off to the classroom, leaving a speechless Alya behind her.

When marinette sat down in her seat, she just kept thinking about how Alya was just talking to her. How could she think that about her? They used to be best friends, and Alya wasn't even concerned about her not talking to her anymore, she was just concerned about her being "jealous of Lila". It made her so furious that she could feel tears trickling down her face. She sees the black butterfly out of the corner of her eye and without hesitation grabs it out of the air.

(Next part is taken from this post by @bigfatbreak)

"Go ahead and akumatize me- See what happens, Hawkmoth!" She screamed the words with a slight madness that the energy of the akuma was giving her, "Every leash has two ends! I just have to pull until I find where you're holding it!"

At this point, the entire class was frozen in place watching her and listening to her crazed-sounding voice threaten an actual terrorist. Marinette felt Hawkmoth's confusion and terror through the bond. What in the- She's sensing me through the Akuma?! The akuma then started to fly away, and when it couldn't it zapped her hand like it was made of lightning and fluttered through the same window it came from. Marinette felt like she had failed yet again and collapsed down on her desk, muttering, "Uuuuggghh. It escaped anyway... What a waste. I didn't realize that Hawkmoth was such a coward. He usually likes grandstand..."

She was startled when her hand was picked up by Felix's, "You likely scared him off by managing to locate him like that... A risky move, I should mention. I would ask that you not attempt that a second time. No one knows what his akuma is truly capable of. You'll want to keep off of this hand for a while, too."

"Oh, are those the doctor's orders? Why, Felix, it almost sounds like you care about meeee." Marinette was all too amused by Felix's concern for her. She also liked to tease them... AS COWORKERS DO.

"I have an investment in your presence. Now don't be cheeky and let's get you to the nurse's office," They said while holding her wrist and gently pulling her in that direction.

Marinette scoffed, "'An investment in my presence'??"

Felix chuckled while still semi-dragging her by the wrist towards the front of the room, being careful not to hurt her injury even worse, "What did I just say about being cheeky?"

On their way out of the door they passed a VERY distressed-looking Adrien. He seemed to be sharing the sentiment with the entire class of: Did that just happen?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

And thats chapter 4. It is VERY LATE! I know. I've been swamped with work, and when I went to write it, I had zero ideas on how to write this chapter. I never ended up getting those ideas. I just went where my writing took me, so if it doesn't really match the characters that's why. I will try to be better at updating regularly, but it probably won't happen. Sorry to everyone with a normal sleep schedule, but this is the time that I write things. Also I didn't have my outline with me while writing this chapter, so it might not have everything I planned to write in it.

I would like to thank you all for all of the support I've been getting on this fic. Despite all of the chapter delays, you guys have stuck with me through all of it, so thank each and every one of you. I love seeing so many people loving this au as much as I do. Without you guys this story wouldn't exist, and I would've stopped writing it after the first chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is always accepted. I love being able to improve my writing whenever possible.

Thank you for reading. Have a nice day/night/whenever you are reading this. See ya next time guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

Taglist

@queer-illusion @apasponsor @heckinggremlin @1-ahiro-1 @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @sassakitty @lennauts @rianoel @dorkus-minimus @khneltea @welp-that-was-unexpected @mlnchlymrshmllw @lovelyautumnsunflower @chariphrasis @lovesbooks @komatsuna-yuki @polyvirnl @innocentlyguiltyfrenchfry @qhobias @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @hammalammadamdam @cloudydaysomewhere @alcoholic-barney @basenikon @xxbehindthemaskxx @corporeal-terrestrial @shadowymemoirs @moonlight-densetsuu

#a second mask #feralnette #feralnette au #felinette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #here it finally is #idk why some of the tags arent working

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dadbodosamu · 3 years

Text

only you || part iii

Stepdad Osamu x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: shower sex, oral (m receiving), snowballing, semi-public sex, mild degradation, spit, squirting, daddy kink

4.1k words

also i forgot to tag them in the last part but thanks to @waka-chan-out and @vanilleswtmacaron for beta reading this!!

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || extras || only you, too

In the morning, Osamu was once again sliding into your bed. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and hummed in your ear as he settled down.

“Good morning, baby,” he muttered.

“Morning,” you mumbled, shimmying closer to him. You yawned and rolled to face him.

“Beautiful,” Osamu said, kissing your forehead. You smiled tiredly.

“Handsome,” you said, kissing his nose.

“Shower with me?” He asked. You hummed in agreement. He rolled you out of the bed, pulling you into your attached bathroom.

You pushed your shorts down to your ankles as Osamu pulled your shirt off.

“Cute,” he said, pinching your nipple playfully.

“We should start the shower,” you mumbled as Osamu leaned down in front of you.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples.

“Samu,” you breathed as he sucked at your nipple.

“Just can’t get enough of ya,” he mumbled against your skin.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he swapped over to your other nipple.

“Yer sweet, lil’ body, so responsive,” Osamu said as your back arched, pushing your breasts into his face.

You pulled him up by his hair to press your lips together. He stood up, lifting you by your thighs. You wrapped your legs around him as he pushed you against the shower wall.

“Samu,” you moaned. You tugged his hair as he kissed down your neck. “No-no bruises.”

“Just blame Bokuto again,” he mumbled, sucking at your skin.

“At least leave them where I can hide them,” you said. He moved lower, kissing and biting over your breasts.

Osamu pulled back as you whined.

“Shower,” he said. You sighed as you stepped out of the shower and watched as Osamu started the water. Once the water had warmed up, you stepped under the water flow.

“How can ya stand it that hot?” Osamu complained, following you under the water. He hissed as the water hit his back and quickly spun you around so the water was hitting your back. You laughed.

“Just turn it down, babe,” you giggled, turning the cold water up.

“Just turn it down, babe,” he mocked, caging you against the shower wall. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Imitation is the highest form of flattery,” you said, pecking his lips.

He moved in closer to you, deepening the kiss. He lifted you by your thighs, wrapping your legs around him as the warm water coated your body.

“Samu, don’t drop me,” you mumbled against his lips. He lined up his cock with your entrance, teasing you with just the tip.

“Not gonna drop ya, princess,” he grunted. His cock slid into you slowly, drawing a long, low moan from your lips.

“Samu,” you moaned, tightening your legs around him. He rolled his hips against yours, forcing his cock deeper.

“Feels good, baby?” Osamu asked. “Feels so good havin’ ya wrapped around my cock, princess.”

“Feels good having you in me, daddy,” you said, digging your nails into Osamu’s skin.

“Ah, no marks, princess,” Osamu said, smiling at you teasingly. You kissed him deeply.

“Just not where they can show,” you said, pulling away from him. He buried his face in your neck and smiled against your skin. He snapped his hips up making you moan loudly.

“Samu, please,” you moaned, moving your hips against his. “Wanna cum.”

He reached between you and rubbed your clit in time with his slow thrusts.

“Not stopping you,” he said. You cried out as your stomach tightened.

“Samu, please!” You cried. “Harder please!”

Osamu rubbed your clit furiously as your walls clenched around him.

“Come on, baby,” he grunted. “Cum around daddy’s cock.”

Your stomach tightened and your walls fluttered as your juices squirted out.

“Cum in me, please, daddy,” you begged as you gushed around him. “Want you to breed me.”

“Fuck,” Osamu hissed as his cock twitched in you. “Want my babies, huh? Want me to knock ya up?”

You nodded as you pressed your chest against his. “Wanna make you a daddy.” Osamu groaned as he emptied his balls into your cunt.

“Fuck, yer too much for me, princess,” Osamu breathed, dick falling limply from you. You laughed as his cum leaked from your hole.

“Old man,” you teased as Osamu gently set you on your feet.

“Only four years older than ya, princess,” Osamu said, pecking your lips.

You two showered quickly after that as the water continued to cool down. By the time you were stepping out, you were shivering from the cold water.

“Aw, come here, baby,” Osamu said, wrapping a towel around you and pulling you against his body. “Let me warm ya up.”

“Th-thanks,” you stuttered, shivering in his arms.

“Y/n!” You jumped as your mom’s voice rang out. You pushed away from Osamu, stepping into your room where your mom was poking her head in from the hallway.

“Mom! Hi!” You exclaimed, rushing over to stop her from coming all the way in. “What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Had to come back and grab my phone,” she said. “Where’s Osamu? His phone’s in our bedroom but I don’t see him anywhere.”

“I think he said he had to run by the restaurant,” you said. “Must’ve forgotten his phone.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Well, I’m going to take the car to work, so let Osamu know when he gets back.”

“No problem,” you said.

“Bye, sweetie, love you,” she called, walking down the hallway.

“Love you, too,” you called after her. You waited until you heard the car pull away before running back to the bathroom where Osamu was standing, looking like he’d had the most silent panic attack ever.

“She’s gone,” you breathed. “That was a close one.”

Osamu let out a long breath, his whole body relaxing.

“A close one,” he laughed, coldly. “My whole life flashed before my eyes.”

“Tell me about it,” you said. “I thought she was going to come in.”

“We have to start being more careful,” Osamu said. You nodded in agreement.

“Come on, let’s just get ready, the game’s soon,” you said. You smacked Osamu’s ass as he walked past you.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Osamu said. You smirked at him as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Who says I can’t finish it?”

“If we miss the subway, I’m going to cry,” you threatened as Osamu slowly got dressed. “Do you want me to cry?”

“I dunno, are you a cute cryer?” He asked, going through his closet to find a shirt.

“I won’t be if we miss the game,” you said, laying back on Osamu’s bed.

“Black or white?” Osamu asked, holding up two Onigiri Miya shirts.

“Samu,” you whined. “They’re the same shirt!”

“Black or white?” He asked again. You huffed.

“Black,” you said. “Do you only own Onigiri Miya shirts?”

“Pretty much,” Osamu said, shrugging. He tugged on the shirt and held his hand out for you. You grabbed it and let him pull you into a sitting up position. “Are you sure you don’t want to wear something else?”

You smiled widely as you smoothed down your sundress. “How else am I going to seduce Bokkun to join us for dinner?”

“I’ll kill him if he looks at you for more than three seconds,” Osamu said, pulling you up to your feet. His arms wrapped around you and he held you tightly against his body. “Also, no cutesie nicknames for him.”

“You do know I have to make it believable that he and I hooked up, right?” You asked.

“Just tell him ya hooked up with someone yer mom won’t approve of, which ya did, and that ya lied to her about who it was, which ya did,” Osamu said. “The best lies are ones that hold a touch of truth.”

“Oh and you’d know all about this, how, Mr. Lies?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I’ve been avoiding fucking my wife for a week,” Osamu said. “I know how to lie.”

“I’ll remember that,” you said.

“I would never lie to ya, baby,” Osamu said, pecking your lips.

“Better not,” you mumbled, kissing him again. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

Osamu’s hand was permanently pulling your dress down as the two of you travelled to the game. At the game, Osamu offered his hoodie to drape over your bare knees after you took a seat.

“Samu, stop,” you hissed as he tugged your dress down in a vain attempt to cover your knees as you sat. “I’m going to end up flashing everyone here my boobs.”

“Well now I have a new fear,” he said, thrusting his hoodie into your arms. “Aren’t ya cold? Put my hoodie on.”

“Will you leave me alone and let me watch the game if I put the hoodie on?” You asked. He nodded, scowling at a guy that had glanced at you a little too long.

You pulled the hoodie on, content as you watched the game, if not a little warm.

After the game, which MSBY had won 3-1 over the Adlers, you let Osamu lead you down to the court where the boys were all excited to see you.

“Y/n! Did you see my last spike?!” Bokuto exclaimed, spinning you around in a tight hug.

“You were amazing! All of you!” You exclaimed once he sat you down.

“Y/n, this is our captain, Meian Shugo,” Sakusa said, introducing you to their tall, handsome captain.

“This is Y/n, my new niece!” Atsumu exclaimed, tossing his arm over your shoulders.

“L/n Y/n, I’m a big fan,” you said, bowing lowly to him. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“You’re the setter that these guys won’t stop talking about,” Meian said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You smiled widely as the guys made their way to the locker rooms and Osamu was dragging you through hallway after hallway until he shoved you into a supply closet and pushed you down to your knees.

“Ya look so fuckin’ hot wearin’ my clothes,” Osamu said, undoing his jeans and tugging them down. “I really, really want ya suckin’ my cock, right now.”

You wasted no time, immediately taking the pierced tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the cool, metal of his piercing.

“Bokuto, the fuckin’ idiot, flashed everyone your cute lil’ lace panties,” Osamu growled, tangling his fingers in your hair. “Thought Hinata was gonna cum in his shorts.”

You moaned around him.

“Oh, ya like that? Hinata’s probably jerkin’ his cock right now, jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout yer lil white, lace panties, barely hidden under yer lil dress,” Osamu said, pushing your head down, forcing more of his cock in your mouth. You moaned again, the vibrations drawing a low moan from Osamu’s throat. “S’too bad that’s all he’s ever gonna get. Yer my lil cock whore, isn’t that right, baby?”

You hummed as he let your head up for you to take a breath. As soon as oxygen filled your lungs, Osamu was forcing you back down on his cock.

“Come on, suck my cock, princess,” he groaned. “Before I fuck yer throat.”

You hollowed your cheeks and forced yourself to take more of his cock down your throat. The corners of your lips burned with the stretch and you forced the urge to gag down as you bobbed your head on his cock.

“Fuck, good girl, takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” Osamu groaned. “Should cum on yer fuckin’ face, just to show everyone who ya belong to.”

You clenched your thighs together as you pulled back and teased his piercing with your tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” Osamu choked out as his cock twitched in your mouth. “Hold it in your mouth.”

You hummed as his cock twitched again.

“Fuck,” he moaned, throatily, as he spilled into your mouth. Your eyes watered as salty cum filled your mouth and leaked down your chin.

“Come ‘ere,” Osamu said, pulling you up to your feet. He kissed you deeply. You pushed the cum into his mouth and grinned when he pulled back. “Open.”

Your mouth fell open and you moaned as he spat his cum back onto your waiting tongue.

“Swallow,” he mumbled, watching as his cum dripped from your tongue. You swallowed and opened your mouth to show him. “Good girl.”

Osamu pulled his hoodie off of you and wiped your chin clean with it before folding it over his arm.

“Come on, let’s go before they start wondering where we are,” Osamu said, tugging you out of the closet.

“We still have to talk to Bokkun,” you said, following Osamu closely.

“Talk to Bokuto about what?”

You jumped nearly in Osamu’s arms when you heard Atsumu from behind you.

“Tsumu! How long have you been there?!” You exclaimed, turning on your heel to face him.

“Long enough,” Atsumu said. He reached out and wiped at your chin with his thumb. “Heard something about ‘cumming on yer face to show who ya belong to’. Didn’t think he’d actually do it.” Atsumu casually wiped his thumb on his jeans.

“We can explain,” Osamu said.

“Yer fucking yer stepdaughter,” Atsumu said, crossing his arms.

“I, um, yeah, I guess so,” Osamu said, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s more than that, Tsumu.”

“A whole affair,” Atsumu said.

“You can’t tell my mom!” You exclaimed. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Atsumu asked, smirking.

“I’ll kill ya,” Osamu threatened.

“Chill out, it was a joke,” Atsumu said, holding his hands up. “Besides, I don’t plan on telling her. Frankly, I don’t care.”

“Ya want something,” Osamu said, narrowing his eyes at Atsumu.

“Let me have a turn,” Atsumu said. Osamu stepped in front of you, pushing you behind him.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I’d kill ya,” Osamu said. “We’ve shared in the past but Y/n is different.”

“Osamu,” you cooed.

“I really, really like her,” Osamu said, ignoring you. “Like, it could be love one day.”

You melted a little. Your face softened and you hugged your arms around Osamu’s waist.

“Fine, fine,” Atsumu said. “I won’t say anything. I’ll even be yer cover.”

“What do you want?” Osamu asked.

“Free food whenever I go to any Onigiri Miya,” Atsumu said. “And maybe just one kiss.”

“Free food for a year and a kiss on the cheek,” Osamu bargained.

“Free food for a year and a real kiss,” Atsumu said. “With tongue.”

“What are we, in high school?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Free food for two years and a peck,” Osamu said. “And I won’t even kick ya after the kiss.”

“Or hit me at all!” Atsumu said.

“Fine,” Osamu said.

“Deal,” Atsumu said, smirking. “Come ‘ere, doll.”

Osamu stepped to the side, letting you move closer to Atsumu.

“No tongue,” you warned, before leaning in. Atsumu swiped his tongue along your bottom lip as you kissed him. You stomped his foot as you jerked away.

“Worth it,” Atsumu said, smiling victoriously.

“Shut up,” you said as Osamu wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He kissed your temple.

“Hope my cum tastes good,” Osamu said, smirking wickedly. Atsumu’s face dropped as he gagged.

“Ew! Gross, I demand a redo after she brushes her teeth!” Atsumu exclaimed, following after the two of you. You and Osamu laughed loudly as he complained behind you.

“Bokuto couldn’t make it?” Your mom asked as she sat the food on the table.

“That’s why we brought Atsumu to replace him,” you said, smiling widely.

Atsumu smiled at your mom wryly. “M/n,” he said.

“Atsumu,” your mom said, barely containing her glare. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“I’m sure,” Atsumu said.

You and Osamu awkwardly loaded food onto your plates as your mom and Atsumu glared at each other.

“So, how was work?” You asked.

“Oh, it’s terrible!” Your mom exclaimed. “Just the worst!”

“Oh? What happened?” Osamu asked, slurping up his soup.

“I have to work in Tokyo for the next week!” Your mom said. You bit your lip to keep from smiling.

“Oh, no! That’s awful,” you said. “But Tokyo, that’s nice.”

“It’s just now I really won’t get to see you,” your mom said, pouting.

“Maybe I could extend my trip a little,” you said. “That way when you get back we can still have a day or two just us.”

“Oh, as long as Osamu doesn’t mind having you here,” your mom said.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Osamu said. “This is her house, too.”

“Okay, then, that’s settled! We have to have a girls day when I get back,” your mom said. “I feel like I’ve just been pawning you off on Osamu this whole week.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Atsumu snarked. You kicked him in the shin.

“I don’t mind,” Osamu said. “It’s father daughter bonding.”

“Oh, it’s bonding all right,” Atsumu muttered. You kicked him again. He hissed in pain.

“What was that?” Your mom asked.

“Just said that bonding is nice,” Atsumu said.

“So, when do you leave?” You asked.

“Tomorrow morning, around 5,” she said. “Way before you two will be up.”

“Are you taking the train?” Osamu asked. Your mom shook her head.

“I’m taking the car, hope you don’t mind,” she said.

“It’s fine, we’ll probably just hang around here, anyway,” Osamu said.

Atsumu smirked as he sipped his tea.

“We have that pick up game later this week,” you said. “With Bokkun, Hinata, and Sakusa.”

“It’ll be great, we’re gonna crush you,” Atsumu said.

“You don’t even know the teams yet,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Me, Omi-kun, and Shoyo versus ya, Samu, and Bokuto,” he said.

“That’s not fair! You three are all professionals! You take Samu!” You exclaimed.

“Ya don’t want me on yer team? I’m hurt,” Osamu said, clutching his heart.

“Against three pros? No, I don’t want you on my team,” you said. “I want Sho-kun!”

“Rock, paper, scissors, loser gets Samu,” Atsumu said, making a fist.

Your mom laughed as Osamu gasped in offense.

“Sorry, Samu, but I want to win tomorrow,” you said, holding up a fist.

In the end, Atsumu ended up stuck with Osamu and was still complaining when he left.

“Bye, Mom,” you mumbled tiredly as your mom packed her bags in the car.

“Bye, sweetie,” she said, hugging you tightly. “Tell Osamu I said bye.”

“I will,” you said. As she pulled off, you walked back into the house. You padded down the hallway and almost turned into your room when you remembered Osamu was currently laying down all alone.

You turned into his room and carefully crawled into his arms.

“Good morning, baby,” he mumbled, pulling you closer to him.

“Morning, daddy,” you said. You smirked as his eyes opened slightly.

“Oh?” He questioned. You rolled him over to his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

“Wanna feel you,” you mumbled, rolling your hips against his.

“G’head, baby,” he said, holding your hips. You ran your hands along his thick chest and stomach, stopping to play with his pierced nipples.

He hissed softly.

“Sensitive?” You asked, pinching his nipple. He nodded. You leaned down and sucked one into your mouth, flicking your tongue against the cool metal. You teased the hardening bud then switched to the other one, only completely pulling away when they were shining with spit and swollen.

“Pretty,” you muttered. You kissed up his neck, sucking and biting at his slightly prickly skin.

“D’ya jus’ call me pretty?” Osamu asked as you nibbled at his jawline.

“You are,” you said, pecking his lips. You shimmied down his body, tugging his briefs off and tossing them to the floor. You palmed his hardening cock until it was bobbing heavily against your hand.

“Wanna ride you,” you said, straddling him again. You ground your wet folds against his cock.

“I wanna fold ya in half, princess,” Osamu said, holding your hips. “Throw yer legs over my shoulders and pound yer cute, lil pussy until ya cry.”

“No reason we can’t do both,” you said, reaching down to line his cock up with your dripping core. “We have all day.”

“‘m not lettin’ ya leave this bed,” he said. You sank down on his cock with a soft moan.

“Daddy,” you whimpered as his cock nudged your abused cervix.

“Take it all, baby, I know ya can,” he said, holding your hips tightly. You let him hold up as he pounded into you, fucking past your cervix with one, quick thrust.

“Samu!” You moaned loudly, digging your nails into his shoulders. You bounced on his cock in time with his thrusts.

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, look at ya,” he grunted. “Such a lil princess, wanting to ride daddy’s cock and not being able to take it all without daddy’s help.”

“S’too big,” you whined as his apadravya dragged against that spongy spot inside you.

“Ya jus’ need a lil’ help, baby,” Osamu said, hands tightening on your hips. “Yer daddy’s little girl, after all.”

You moaned as he pulled you down, your chests flush against each other. He smacked your ass as you bit at his chest.

“Can feel ya clenchin’ ’round me, go ‘head and cum for me, princess,” Osamu grunted. You cried out, your cunt walls squeezing him as you squirted around his cock.

“Good girl,” he praised before flipping you over to your back. Osamu hovered over you, kissing your lips gently before pushing your legs up against your chest.

“Daddy!” You cried as he continued to thrust into you. Your legs shook with overstimulation as he pressed two fingers against your clit.

“Want ya to make a mess for me,” he said, flicking your swollen clit. “Want ya to squirt around my cock again.”

“Harder, Samu, please!” You begged, gripping the white sheets underneath you. Osamu braced himself against the bed as he pounded into you harder.

“Gonna fill ya up all day,” he grunted. “‘Til yer swollen with my seed. Gonna be all fucked out and dumb when I’m finished with ya. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned, nodding. “Want daddy to breed me until it sticks! Wanna be full of you!”

Osamu grabbed your face roughly, forcing your mouth open. “Tongue out,” he ordered. Your tongue lolled out, drool dripping onto your chin. “Good girl.”

He spat on your tongue before kissing you messily, spit covering both of your chins and thin strands of saliva connecting you two when he pulled away.

“Gonna cum,” you gasped as he pinched your clit. He leaned up, watching you squirm as he relentlessly rutted into you.

“Squirt around my cock, baby,” he said, strumming your clit. “Come on, daddy wants ya to make a mess on him.”

You let out a high pitched moan as he pressed down on your bladder.

“No, no, daddy, gonna make a mess!” You squealed.

“Come on, princess,” he muttered, pushing down harder. “Make a mess on daddy.”

You cried loudly as cum gushed out of you, covering Osamu’s stomach and chest.

“Fuck,” Osamu groaned, balls tightening as he painted your walls white. “Good girl.”

You breathed heavily as Osamu pulled out of you and collapsed next to you.

“Daddy,” you breathed, cuddling into his side. “Didn’t know I could cum that hard.”

“Me either, baby,” he mumbled, pulling you closer to him. “Ya did so good, princess.”

“I made a mess,” you said.

“Just like daddy asked,” he said. “Ya want daddy to clean ya up?”

“Please,” you mumbled. Osamu stood up and lifted you easily, carrying you to the shower. He cleaned both of you off quickly before running a bath in the large bathtub.

“Ya want anything, princess?” Osamu asked as you leaned back in the large tub.

“Join me,” you said. Osamu climbed in behind you, wrapping his arms around you. You leaned against his chest and relaxed into him.

“This is so bittersweet,” Osamu said, rubbing his hand over your stomach soothingly.

“Why?” You asked.

“I just wish I had met ya first,” Osamu said. “Before yer mom. Now, I’ll always be the guy that got with his stepdaughter.”

“Hey, you didn’t raise me or anything,” you said. “It’s not like you’re my father figure or anything. You’re only four years older than me. If anything, my mom’s the weird one for marrying a guy her child’s age.”

“I really, really like ya.” Osamu said, nuzzling your neck. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

“I really, really like you, too,” you said, smiling. You rested your hands on Osamu’s as he pressed small kisses up your neck. “I thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen when we first met. Nearly took my breath away.”

“I thought ya were the most beautiful woman,” Osamu said. “Couldn’t take my eyes off ya.”

You lifted his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his skin.

“I’m falling in love with ya,” he mumbled against your skin. “This is the closest to love at first sight anyone has ever been.”

You kissed his hand again.

“What the fuck is this?”

#miya osamu #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #haikyuu smut #timeskip miya osamu #tw:incest #cai writes

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