#you know she has to be telling him this on a regular basis | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

Hiiiii!!!! So, if you wanna write something, can you do poly marauders find out reader sleeps with like an almost concerning amount of plushies??? I literally sleep on a few plushies so I think it would be cute lol

Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’ve been pouting all evening, ever since the boys had decided to watch a new comedy film over one of your chickflicks. You’re ganging up on me, you’d complained, and James felt a twinge of guilt but Sirius had only laughed. You’re damn right we are, sweetheart, because we watched that one just last week! You’d gone silent after that, but you’ve seemed vaguely sulky ever since, even when James brought you popcorn and tried to snuggle up with you under the blanket.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you say abruptly, standing and gathering your blanket about you.

“Already?” James asks. “The movie’s only got like, twenty more minutes in it.”

“That’s okay,” you yawn, stooping to give him a hug and kiss. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, dovey,” Remus says as you kiss him too, then Sirius. “Sleep well.”

James watches you go, unease growing like a fungus in his chest as you go into your room instead of one of theirs, the door shutting definitively behind you.

“Prongs, hey.” He turns to find Remus looking at him, his brows scrunching just softly upwards. “Don’t worry about it, love, she’s alright.”

“I know it’s silly,” he says, casting another glance down the hall, “but she just seemed so put out. And then she went to her own room.”

“She doesn’t always want to sleep in ours.” Sirius shrugs. “Disappointing, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

It’s true; you only sleep in one of your boyfriends’ rooms maybe half of the time, but this has always been a point of confusion for James. He and the other boys shuffle between rooms every night, and when you join them you seem to enjoy it as much as the rest of them do. Plus, it’s no secret that you love cuddles above all else, so why deprive yourself of them on such a regular basis?

James stands. “I’m gonna go check on her.”

“Suit yourself,” Sirius says, and Remus only nods, attention going back to the film.

James sees blue light coming from underneath your door as he approaches, confirming his suspicion that you weren’t really tired enough to sleep when you’d left. He knocks softly. “Sweetheart? Can I come in?”

You don’t reply, and he hesitates briefly before cracking the door. For a moment, he wonders if you’re in here at all. He certainly can’t find you. The entire room is awash in blue light, your laptop screen on full brightness as the intro to the movie you’d wanted to watch earlier plays silently. Where you should be on your bed is instead half a million stuffed animals. Piles of them, from your headboard to the end of the bed, with little faces lit by the screen like they’re watching the movie, too.

James draws closer, noticing your headphones plugged into the laptop, and follows the chord until he finds you, nestled so deeply in plushies that only your face is visible. He takes a second to relish the sight before waving a hand in front of the screen to get your attention. You startle, the movement sending a plushie tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. You lunge for it, disrupting even more of the toys, and James has to dam the avalanche with both hands, passing you the fallen stuffed animal—A penguin, he thinks to himself. How cute—while you take off your headphones.

“Fuck, you scared me,” you say breathlessly, and James guffaws, hysterical laugher bubbling out of his chest. “What?”

“Just,” he marvels, shaking his head, “it’s surprising to hear that kind of language coming from someone absolutely buried in cuteness right now.”

You sink further into the pile, and if the lighting weren’t so blue at the moment, he suspects your face would appear redder.

“Jamie,” you say, quietly, hurriedly. “Jamie, don’t tell. Please?”

He’s just starting to wonder whether he’s even capable of keeping a secret as good as this when two pairs of footsteps start down the hallway.

“What’s going on?” Sirius’ voice calls, a second before Remus flicks on the light and both boys go silent. James giggles, bringing his hand to his mouth in an attempt to smother the sound. Your face is indeed as flushed as he’d imagined, and you burrow further into your squishy fortress as if you could disappear into it entirely.

“Baby,” Sirius says, sounding positively delighted, “where have you been hiding all of this?”

“I haven’t been hiding them.” Your voice is muffled by stuffing. “They just stay in my closet during the day. So my room doesn’t look cluttered.”

“But why?” Sirius makes his way over to you, picking up a fox by your head. “This little guy is so charming. You’d deprive us of him?”

Despite Sirius’ honey-coated tone, you know what he’s about, and your eyes narrow defensively.

“Dove,” Remus says slowly, fighting to keep his expression under control as his eyes glitter with amusement. “This is the most adorable thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

You don’t look inclined to make a response, so James speaks again.

“Is this why you don’t always want to sleep with us?” he asks, doing his best to gentle the teasing in his voice. “Because these guys are welcome in my room anytime if it means I get to be with you too.”

You make your eyes big and sad in that way James swears you have to practice in the mirror. “Really? You don’t think it’s embarrassing?”

James is finally free to unleash the full capacity of his smile. “Of course not, angel.”

“Well, maybe, like, a dozen of them,” Sirius says. “With more than one person, I think they’d all end up falling off the bed.”

You look horrified. “I feel so guilty when that happens.”

Remus makes a sound that’s half laugh, half coo. “Darling, you’re going to kill me with all this.” He gives you a look so syrupy sweet James feels his heart go all soft and mushy. “Please come finish the movie with us so I can give you a proper cuddle?”

“And bring some of your friends,” Sirius adds as you start to extricate yourself from the jumble on your bed. “Fuck, I’m never gonna get over this.”

2K notes · View notes

pierregazly · 8 months

Text

in the mind of another ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!soulmate!reader

warnings: mentions of sexual themes (no smut), pining/yearning for another, tiny bit of angst but hea! [wc is 5.4k]

in which soulmates always have a way of building the connection with one another. for you and max, you've always been the voice instead the others head, the one thing that has always been a constant presence. but will that voice inside your head, ever be the voice you hear from in front of you?

By legal terms, a soulmate was defined as “person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity. This may involve similarity, love, romance, platonic relationships, comfort, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, compatibility and trust.” In today’s day and age, more often than not, your soulmate was that of romantic origin, a person you yearned for on a regular basis.

It was something instilled in you at an early age, that everyone had a soulmate, but not everyone met their soulmate. Everyone had a way of interacting with their soulmate before they met. You learned early on, very early on, that you could interact with your soulmate through your mind. Through words, pictures, even internal conversations. But sometimes those interactions would lead to nothing, and your parents tried to ensure you were aware of that in the fear that you would be heartbroken one day.

One thing you could never do was tell them your name, who you were, or where you were until it was time. It was like your mind would go elsewhere when you tried to tell the male on the other end who you were. He told you the same thing happened to him every time he tried.

The both of you spent a plentiful amount of time interacting in your shared youth. He would often ramble on about his day, about go-karting, and his dad who he kind of hated but obviously loved, about his mum who he missed, and his sister who he couldn’t wait to see when she came to visit him wherever he was in the world.

You would do the same, you’d tell him about the things you did that specific day, explain little things about your family, the things you looked forward to for the remainder of the week. It was something you both just got used to.

The both of you grew up together. Even if it wasn’t physical, you were an emotional tether for one another when either of you needed it. He was there for almost all of your firsts, your first graduation, your first familial heartbreak, your first crush, your first boyfriend (which he was eager to help you through when it ended).

Ever embarrassing to admit, he was even the one in your mind, more times than you can count, when you felt the butterflies in your tummy growing as your fingers explored different parts of your body. He always pushed you to continue, telling you exactly what he would do with his own fingers, or his own tongue; when he finally got the chance to make you feel the way you were making yourself feel.

It was something you didn’t speak about after it happened, but it didn’t change the fact he was usually the one your brain went to when you made yourself feel that way. He argued it was the soulmate connection, that your soul just simply wanted him to be the one to do it.

As time went on, the conversations dwindled amongst the two of you, both of you growing up and growing out of the fantasy that you would meet your soulmate one day, meet each other.

You still got glimpses into his brain occasionally, pictures of blue and red cars, racecars are what you presumed. His fingers on what looked like a controller, but turned out to be a steering wheel when you asked him what it was.

“Seems like a bit of an extravagant steering wheel, no?”

The silent laugh was loud in your mind, as if you could feel his body rumbling in its laughter at your words, “Pretty extravagant, yeah. Not everyone gets to use something like this, though.”

“Explain the steering wheel to me, there’s too many buttons and toggles,” you prompted him, knowing full well it would dive him deep into an explanation about the object you so often saw inside his head.

That was another thing you learned about him early on. He liked to explain everything. He used to spend hours describing the go-karts he drove every weeknight and weekend, putting as much detail and emphasis into his explanations so that you would better understand. As time went on, so did his explanations, explaining situations he’s found himself in around the world, explaining how his career was kicking his ass but how he loved it, occasionally getting drunk and explaining how soulmates worked and that it was inevitable you’d meet one day, even if it felt like that day was never coming.

Not wanting to be the one to burst his fantasy and ruin whatever hope he had, you would usually just nod along and silently hum to him when the conversation of eventually meeting one day was brought up.

You still shared nights together, even from thousands of miles apart, your brain yearning for him as his did the same.

There were moments in time, where you were positive you had almost met him, or perhaps had made eye contact with him. It was a small feeling inside of you, like everything you were looking for was in the same building as you, or around the corner, or even in the same city.

Usually just as fast as the feeling appeared, it was gone. It never lasted for long periods of time, it was like your soulmate bond was teasing you, pushing for you to reinstate your faith in the connection. He always argued that if you lost faith in the soulmate bond, it would lose faith in trying to push the two of you together.

Yet another thing you learned early on, whoever he was, arguing was in his blood. If he disagreed with you, with something you said, or with an opinion you had, he would go off into a whole explanation and argument about why he knew you were wrong, and how he knew he was right.

It was endearing, how passionate he was about everything in his life, and seeing how his passion for everything just continued to grow as he grew up.

Over the last 8 years, you had learned not to even attempt to communicate with him on Saturday or Sundays. He had told you that it was the busiest time of the work week for him, and that he couldn’t handle internal distractions on those days.

You would only speak to him when he spoke to you on those days. Usually it was a fleeting ‘have a nice rest of your weekend’ or ‘I can’t wait until you’re here with me, celebrating this with me’.

He never elaborated on the last part, and you never went out of your way to ask. Whoever he was, he was usually celebrating something on Sundays, at least that’s what you assumed from the raw happiness and elation that usually went through your connection on those days.

You hadn’t heard from him, from your soulmate, in weeks. Which wasn’t necessarily unusual, either of you could cut off the connection for weeks at a time if things were stressful in life, or if you just needed a break from the never-ending person that was inside your head at all times.

It didn’t mean you didn’t miss his dry sense of humour, the bluntness with which he said things to you, the never-ending arguments about the stupidest things. You would never admit any of this to him, though.

Ignoring the yearning-feeling from inside of you, you allowed yourself to think about how things would be if you ever met the person on the other end of the connection. Would it be instant happiness? Relief? Joy?

People always explained their own experiences to you, saying it was like love at first sight, but amplified so significantly, because it felt like your soul was complete, like everything was finally where it needed to be in life. They described it as meeting the one thing that made you whole, the one thing that made you continuously push to be your best self, to continuously push to be better at everything you did in life.

You truly couldn’t believe what they said, not that it sounded exaggerated or silly. It was just difficult to imagine anything causing a feeling so instantaneously and intense as what they described.

Your friends had disappeared earlier in the day, eager to try and find themselves different drivers throughout the entrances to get photos or autographs with. You really had no interest in any of it. Your soulmate had eagerly admired, and shit talked almost every single person on the grid to you, at least once or twice, so it really wasn’t worth trying to interact with any of them after that.

Your paddock pass sat heavily on your chest, the lanyard rubbing against your neck as the bright Sun shined down upon your skin. The cheering of the Tifosi could be heard throughout the entire fan sections. The Ferrari faithful were dedicated, especially at their own Grand Prix.

He had told you that Monza was one of the ones not to miss. That it was electric, regardless of who you drove for, even if the fans were booing your favourite driver, or your favourite team, it was a delight to drive in Monza.

You found yourself staring at the different drivers names that were wrapped around the seating section. Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell... Max Verstappen.

He was handsome, that you could admit. With his pretty blue eyes, and his arrogant little smirk, and his annoying obsession with having to win.

“Oh, you think Max Verstappen has pretty blue eyes, huh?”

A small sound erupted from your chest as you listened to the words floating through your head from the man you hadn’t heard from in weeks.

“Look who’s alive! Thought you got lost with your little controller steering wheel.”

Laughing at your words, “You didn’t answer my question! You think Max Verstappen has pretty eyes?”

“I think Max Verstappen himself is pretty. Other than when he’s being an arrogant prick.”

That feeling had been eating at you all day, again. Like your soulmate bond was trying to force you to go in a direction you weren’t understanding. It was like it was trying to tell you that he was here, that he was so close you could almost smell him, almost touch him. You had been ignoring the little jabs inside of you all day, refusing to acknowledge the fact that maybe, just maybe, the person you were yearning for so heavily, was so close.

“My soulmate just called me an arrogant prick, without realizing she was calling me an arrogant prick.”

The Brit in front of him guffawed, his whole body moving as he gripped his side at Max’s words, “Mate, how did that even happen?”

Shrugging his shoulders as he looked at Lando, “Not too sure. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks, figured she had shut the connection off for some time alone and all of a sudden, she’s thinking about how ‘Max Verstappen has such pretty blue eyes’ and then told me that I’d... or he’d be attractive all the time if he wasn’t such an arrogant prick.”

Patting his shoulder gently, all Lando did was grin at him, “Just think, mate. At least whoever she is, she thinks you have pretty eyes and that you’re good looking when you’re not being an arrogant prick.”

Max shoved him as he walked by, walking away in the direction of his driver's room. He had been having that feeling again, like his body was yearning for something that it couldn’t explain to him. He had tried to ask a few people about it, had asked Sebastian in the past if it was something he had experienced before meeting Hanna. Of course, Seb hadn’t been much help when one considered the fact that he and his soulmate had met in their shared childhood.

It wasn’t something he could ask either of his parents, both admitting long ago that they weren’t destined for one another and that they had never had a connection with their true soulmates, which allowed them to willingly marry each other. Victoria had met her soulmate and now husband when they were young as well, so she would be of no help.

He was almost embarrassed to ask Christian, or any other older person who had already met their soulmate. He was a grown man, he could literally just google it if he wanted to, but what exactly would he type in?

What is that weird yearning feeling I get every now and then, out of the blue, in random buildings or random cities?

Max was almost positive the answer would be ‘allergies’ or ‘hunger’. He figured that maybe it was soulmate related, it would make sense, but it wasn’t a feeling he had often. It wouldn’t make sense to only yearn so heavily for your soulmate in certain areas.

It was always the strongest when he felt like he was truly connecting with you. He noticed it for the first time when both of you had touched yourselves to the sound of the other, egging one another on, saying exactly what the both of you know the other wanted to hear. Max couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed that time with you, how intimate it was, how much he craved to be the one making you moan and whimper.

The feeling always grew after that, the yearning for the other person, the desire to have you there with him, the desire to have you underneath him after a night of celebration, the desire to have you wrapped in his arms, the desire to send you an unnecessary bouquet of flowers... if he could just figure out who you were, all of that would be possible.

But the yearning today was different. It was like his body was trying to tell him he needed to go somewhere, trying to encourage him to walk down halls he didn’t usually walk down, or trying to push him in directions that made no sense.

“You gonna tell me why you’re thinking of Max Verstappen so much today, and why you’re thinking so much about his pretty blue eyes?”

He could feel the involuntary smile reach his lips when he heard your soft laugh. He really tried not to be someone who was smitten with a person he had never met, but he couldn’t deny that he was in love with you, likely had been since the both of you were young.

You were the one constant in his life, the one person he could always turn to when he needed someone. You listened to all his ranting, dealt with hours upon hours of ‘Maxsplaining’, dealt with unnecessary outbursts and temper tantrums, but you never complained about it. You always eagerly pushed for him to continue, asking him more and more questions, prompting him out of his head and prompting him to get over whatever frustration had pushed him over the edge that day.

“If you must know. I’m at the Monza Grand Prix, and I had to get away from all the Ferrari fans for a bit, pretty sure they were going to blow my ear drums. Max Verstappen’s name is everywhere, so I, of course, had to internally acknowledge his attractiveness while grimacing at his name in front of me.”

Max felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. You were here? In Italy? At the Monza Grand Prix? The same place where he was, at this very moment, at this very second?

He could tell you were waiting for a response from him to your words. It was like he could sense the raise of your eyebrows from the silence that emitted between your connection.

“You’re in Monza?” He questioned eagerly, his hands sweating as he waited for a response

“Yes sir, just about to try and force myself to go find my friends and head back to the paddock so I can avoid getting trampled by any other Ferrari fans.”

Max knew almost instantly that, that had to be what the feeling was. The yearning. You were close by, and his side of the soulmate connection knew it.

He had tried to tell you who he was before, had tried to explain it to you in words that the connection wouldn’t muffle or meddle with. It never worked. Any time he tried to explain to you who he was, or what he did for a living, it was like his brain malfunctioned and he had to hotwire it back on.

You had told him the same thing happened to you every time you tried to explain to him who you were, or the easiest ways to find you in the real world. Every time either of you tried, it was like the connection was shutting it down.

Daniel had told him it was likely the bond, telling him it wasn’t the time yet, that the both of you had to wait until the bond was steady and ready for you to finally meet in person. Max had never believed it, until right now.

You had never been able to tell him exactly where you were before, at least, not that he can ever remember. You had told him the things you were doing in the past, had told him the people you were spending time with, even that you were getting dinner in certain districts. Any time you had tried to tell him the restaurant, or the city even, the connection would malfunction.

But you were just mentally able to tell him where you were, you were internally able to tell him where you were going in the place that you currently were.

“I’m... I’m in Monza too. At the Grand Prix, I mean.”

He could almost feel the instant shock and excitement at his words. Before he or you could get the chance to say anything else, he heard GP calling for him, the annoyed expression on his face an indication that he had been looking for Max for far longer than he actually wanted to be.

“I have to get back to work. Please, don’t leave before you hear from me again. Maybe this is a sign.”

You could practically feel the shock coursing through your body. Both of you were here. In Monza. At the Grand Prix. At the same time, together... but not together? You tried to contain the giddiness at his words, a silent hum in acknowledgement when he told you not to leave. How could you leave? Especially now that you knew he was here? And that he was working?

It gave you some indication as to why he was always so busy on Saturdays and Sundays, if he worked for a Formula 1 team, or for Formula 1 in itself. Their biggest days of the week were the weekends, especially during race weeks. It made sense why he could never talk on those days of the week, or why he always seemed so happy or moody on Sundays.

You couldn’t believe that both of you were able to tell each other where the other was, that the connection finally allowed you to give that little tidbit of important information to the other. Maybe it finally was time, maybe the connection was finally allowing you to meet the one person you had been yearning for, even if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t.

The text message to your friends asking where they were garnered a response, which prompted you out of your train of thought. Letting them know that you were on your way to their location, your brain moved back to the previous thought your mind was on. He was here, like truly here. Within the same 10 kilometers as you. Probably the closest either of you had ever been to each other before.

Your friends greeted you eagerly when you finally found them, excitably telling you all about the drivers they had met, how Alex Albon even recognized two of them from previous Grand Prix and how they just knew Charles Leclerc was going to win today because the Tifosi were going crazy and how could you not win with all that support screaming for you?

Nodding along with a smile on your face, you had an inkling they were wrong. Max Verstappen was likely going to get his tenth win in a row, but you weren’t going to say that to them.

The drivers parade went by faster than you were expecting, before you knew it, the cars and their drivers were lining up in their respective places along the grid. Your friends eagerly itching for a better view of the upcoming race. You couldn’t even put the effort in to pay attention, wondering where he was right now.

Was he working? Was he one of the mechanics? One of the pit crew, eagerly waiting for their driver to pull into their spot? One of the engineers, hoping their instructions and their drivers did as they were supposed to? You tried not to let your mind wander to the other possibility, but it was hard not to.

What if he was one of the drivers? One of the 20 men now pushing themselves around the track at the fastest speed their car could take them? You tried not to stay on that thought too long, but your mind seemed to wander back to it.

It would make sense, really. Whoever he is, he had been karting since he was a boy. His father had been unnecessarily forceful with him about it, always pushing him even when he was down, telling him that champions didn’t cry and that if he wanted to win everything one day, he had to act like he wanted to.

He always made it seem like he was on top of the world on Sundays, like everything he ever wanted had happened that day. Would a mechanic, or an engineer, or someone from the pit crew consistently have that level of elation on Sundays?

You knew it was possible, if they were working for a winning team, or a winning driver, and that driver was making their lives as easy as possible, then you knew it was definitely a possibility. You just couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was one of the drivers.

The crowd was cheering as eagerly as they possibly could, Verstappen had overtaken Sainz three laps prior after the Spainard had led for 15 laps straight. The Tifosi were relentless though, cheering as loud as they could for their two drivers. Your friends had resigned themselves to the fact that Verstappen was getting his tenth win in a row, which was slowly coming closer and closer as the time ticked down.

It felt like time was zooming by; the minutes on the clock trickling down as the stadium waited for that last lap to start. Sainz was battling to keep Leclerc in fourth, doing everything in his power to keep the third podium spot he had rightfully earned.

The checkered flag waved as the Red Bull car of Max Verstappen passed the finish line, a simultaneous cheer erupting within the crowd when the two red Ferrari’s passed the line with barely a second apart.

That feeling inside of you, the yearning, it had been getting stronger and stronger throughout the race. Strong enough that you had to rub at your chest with a grimace more than once, ignoring the signs that obviously your soul connection was trying to give to you.

The television in front of you showed Max Verstappen on the top of his car, both hands and 10 fingers up as he stared at the moving camera, an obvious celebration beginning as he ran towards his team. Verstappen jumped at them, right as you heard his voice in your head.

“Where are you right now? I want to see you. I need to see you.”

He sounded out of breath, but elated, as per usual on a Sunday. Must work for Red Bull then, you thought to yourself.

“I don’t really know how to explain where I am, I’m in the Paddock Club with my friends.”

Turning away from the screen, you tried to focus on the words coming through the connection.

“Come to the area where you can go towards the garages, I’ll have someone tell security to let you in. What are you wearing? I don’t think you’ll be able to tell me your name yet, and I don’t want to risk fucking this up.”

You had absolutely no clue how to find the area he was describing to you, explaining to him that you didn’t spend most of your time at Grand Prix’s unlike someone, apparently. All he did was laugh joyfully, explaining to you in simpler terms how to get to where he wanted you to go.

“I have to go do a few more things, but just wait for me, okay? I’ll come to find you, the moment I’m done. I swear.”

“I’ve waited for years; I think I can wait a few minutes more.”

He didn’t verbally respond, but you could still feel the happiness, the sense of something you could only describe as adoration come through the connection before he shut it off again. It was obvious he had commitments, but it was disheartening knowing you still had to wait a few more minutes, that he wouldn’t be there waiting for you, behind whatever security guard you were going to have to verbally grapple with to be let behind the barricades.

All you told your friends when you left was you had to go make a call, and that it may take a few minutes. They tried to argue with you, telling you the drivers were just about to do their post-race interviews and that it was always one of the best parts, but you simply brushed them off, eager to get to where you needed to be.

It didn’t take you long to find where he had told you to go, his explanations as thorough and necessary as they usually were. Before you could even get a word out to the security guard, a tall brunette in a Red Bull shirt lightly tapped your shoulder and gestured for you to follow her, flashing her entry pass at the guard and pulling you along.

“I’m Liv. I work in PR with Red Bull; I was told to wait for you. Sorry for just like... pulling you along. No one really gave me any explanation, just that I was told to look out for someone wearing the exact same outfit you are, and that it had something to do with a soulmate thing and I couldn’t get involved or ask questions.”

“This pass will get you in and out of pretty much wherever you need to be in the Red Bull garage and areas nearby,” the brunette rambled on as the both of you walked, pulling a second entry pass from her back pocket to give to you.

Both of you stopped in front of what only could be the hospitality lounge, if the plethora of food and drinks were any indication. You didn’t necessarily know where to go, or where to stand, so you looked back over at the brunette with confusion evident in your eyes.

“Just wait here! He shouldn’t be long. Feel free to snack, or make yourself a tea, or you know... drink whatever really. I have to get back to work. Just like, don’t leave. I’ll probably get in trouble for that. Anyways, bye! Good luck!”

Not giving you the chance to respond, Liv, as you learned previously, turned and basically ran out of the room. You were left alone in the hospitality area, everyone from Red Bull obviously still celebrating Max Verstappen’s tenth win in a row.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, deciding to sit down on one of the couches being the only real option you could decipher. The television was on low, the interviewer speaking to Sainz, Perez, and Verstappen.

“You look eager to get out of here, Max. Big celebration planned for your tenth straight win?”

The Dutchman chuckled, a cocky grin prominent on his face, “I have something I have to do after this, of course, though, not the celebration right away. I’m sure the team has a celebration planned, but it’s a bit arrogant of me to be involved in my own celebration party planning, no?”

The interviewer laughed in response; you simply cocked your head at his words. Ironic that Max Verstappen would call himself arrogant, just hours after you had told him how arrogant you found Verstappen.

A few more questions zoomed by; your own thoughts preoccupied by the idea that your soulmate could be coming towards the room at any minute. The feeling in your chest, in your body as a whole, had grown substantially again since you sat down. What you didn’t notice was him grabbing his chest at the same time you did, rubbing it with a grimace as the yearning grew and grew.

It didn’t take long for the interview to end, the television going back to the reporters as the drivers evidently went to go do whatever it is they do after their post-race interviews.

You could hear someone walking down the hallway, which was strange considering how busy the Red Bull garage had to be right now. The steps grew louder as they got closer and closer to the room you were in, the door slamming open being the only thing to pull you out of your thoughts as you spun around.

Making direct eye contact with your soulmate for the first time was exactly how everyone described it. It was instant, the feeling that seated itself inside your heart, inside your mind. It felt like you were whole, like everything you had done in the past 24 hours, let alone the past 10 years, had led you to this exact moment.

You subconsciously moved off the couch, stepping in the direction of the man that was now eyeing your every move. You couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, whether he was happy, disheartened, you didn’t know.

He stepped in your direction, just as you put another foot towards him. You could see the corners of his lips turning up, a smile starting to edge itself onto his cheeks.

“I can’t believe you’re really here. In front of me. Like, a real person.”

It was the same voice that you’ve heard in your head for years, except the words were coming from the mouth of the man in front of you, coming from the mouth of the man with the prettiest blue eyes you had ever seen.

You barely had time to process anything before he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you directly into his chest as you wrapped your own arms around his body.

He was real. Everything you had yearned for, for years was real, and Max was right there, holding you in his arms as he pressed his lips against the crown of your head, not wanting to let you go.

Max could barely contain his eagerness as he basically sprinted down the hall of the Red Bull garage after the end of the interview. Olivia had told him where she had brought you, telling you to wait in the hospitality lounge and that he’d be there to see you as quickly as he could get out.

He couldn’t believe that you were really there. After spending years of talking to an invisible force inside his head, years of having a constant companion who he could turn to for internal comfort, you were barely seconds away from him.

Max didn’t hesitate to throw the door of the lounge open, making eye contact with you just a second later.

Everyone was right, the feeling you get when you finally meet your soulmate, the person that’s supposed to complete you in the best of ways. It was instant love, instant happiness, a feeling better than any win he had ever accomplished, a feeling that could barely be explained in one million words.

He knew right then that he loved you, and when you smiled at him, he knew you knew it too.

i am obsessed with the soulmate trope so this obviously got out of hand and way more descriptive than i intended. im hoping you all love it as much as i loved writing it!! let me know what you think

my requests are also open :)

taglist

@leclercdream @myescapefromthislife @iloveyou3000morgan @love4lando @asfaraslifegets @decseptapril @somanyfandomsbruh

if you're interested in being added to my taglist, just send me a message/reply and ill add ya. i lost my list of who asked so if you weren't tagged and wanted to be pls let me know. (if your name has a strike through it, it wouldn't let me tag you)

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen x you #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 one shot #f1 imagine #soulmate trope #my writing #formula 1

2K notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

The best part of being his own camp counsellor is that he can wake up whenever the fuck he likes.

Nico’s a fan.

Because, however, his dumb ass made friends with the camp’s head medic, he doesn’t get to sleep in as often as he would like. He is instead often woken up before the clock strikes nine, which is a tragedy and one of the forty thousand reasons he is going to be present on Will’s judgement day. (The scales tip any which way on a regular basis, but as of last week, Will is going to hell. Unfortunate. Nico’ll still visit him, though. Bring him one half of a twizzler or something.) So when he wakes up, one lovely morning, mouth tasting like something rotted in it and sun well past halfway across the sky, he is capital-C Concerned.

What a horrible tragedy that is. Finally, for the first time in months, he was able to sleep in. And his first thought is not gratitude. Solace may indeed have to die — Nico was not this way before he started planting his annoying ass front and centre in Nico’s life. He’s quite fairly certain he used to be frightening and badass. Now Will orders him to drink milk for the sake of his calcium and he does. Gods.

“Morning,” he hedges, approaching the archery range, feeling marginally more alive than twenty minutes prior.

Kayla raises an amused eyebrow. “Dude, it’s, like, two.”

“Well fuck you, then.”

She smirks. “Aw, did baby not get his Sunshine fix of the day? Is that why he’s so grumpy?”

It really sucks that Will is so fond of his siblings. Nico wonders if Will would still like him if he knew how many times he daydreams of transporting Kayla onto the moon per day.

“As soon as I figure out which god would appreciate you as a sacrifice, you’re gone.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts, turning away and lining up an arrow. She lets it fly, watching as it shaves a splinter off a hunk of wood fifty feet away. “You couldn’t get close enough to kick my ass before I’d skewer you, di Angelo.”

Remembering the warning arrow Kayla had shot through his shoulder last week, he wisely chooses not to press the matter any further. The power visibly goes to her head. Fuck.

“Just — tell me where Will is.”

“Why?” She strings another arrow. The grin on her face is a level of shit-eating that Nico has only before seen on a Stoll. She should spend less time around Julia, or else the camp is in for some serious trouble. “What are your intentions with my dear brother?”

Nico, on principle, refuses to answer that question. Kayla shrugs, finishing her shot and then turning around to stick her tongue out at him.

“No answer, no location! Find him yourself, loverboy. And remember that I am always watching.”

Stomping away, and ignoring the smile twitching at his lips — she is so annoying, truly, gods above he owes Bianca a thousand apologies for ever opening his mouth — he heads towards the infirmary. There are only six locations Will is at any given time, after all, except when he disappears for several hours randomly but Nico doesn’t know how to bring that up yet. As he approaches the infirmary, though, he hears it absolutely blasting with music, like genuinely shaking the ground a little bit, and knows exactly where to find him.

As he approaches the door, wincing at the door, he finds it closed. Odd — Will likes a breeze when he works. Even odder is the hastily-written sign pasted onto it:

ANNUAL CLEAN OUT DAY. IF YOU NEED ME, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU NEED A BANDAID, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT, CALL AN AMBULANCE AND PRAY. I AM BUSY.

(‘Busy’ is underlined three times.)

In smaller print, under the all-caps monstrosity, is:

Unless you’re Nico, in which case disregard the previous sentiment. No, Cecil, this does NOT mean you.

The note is written again in Ancient Greek, Latin, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Italian, Polish, Korean, Morse Code, and another ten languages Nico can’t even name. Actually, wait — the top left is Klingon. And middle right note does not appear to be language, showing instead a poorly drawn stick figure in armour being shoved into a cannon and shot into the sun by another poorly drawn stick figure in a lab coat. Nico loves a man who’s multi-talented, indeed.

Hesitantly, Nico cracks open the door. He is immediately assaulted by a solid wall of sound, and then nearly bowled over by the enigma himself, William ‘I Can Restructure A Human Brain But Cannot Tie My Shoelaces’ Solace. He catches himself at the last second, and then barely manages to catch Will, grabbing him around the waist just before his head hits the floor.

“Nico!” he shouts over the music, smiling brightly. “Hi! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He can physically feel his voice cracking, but luckily the music drowns it out. Hopefully. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning!” Will straightens up, although he stays within the circle of Nico’s arms. Nico tries real hard to keep his gaze firmly planted on his face and not on the hands he still has in his hips. “I do it once a year, kick everybody out and deep clean the place. Helps keep it fresh and minimize the bloodstains on the floor.”

“Ah. And the music…”

“It’s fun!” Will shouts. He gasps when the CD player skips and a new song comes on, heavy base and funky synths blasting so hard the window panes shake. “Oh my gods! I love this one!” He turns his bright grin at Nico full force, absolutely no holdbacks on the dimples or freckles, gods help him, and bows cheekily. “Can I have this dance, good sir?”

“It’s Britney Spears’ Outrageous,” Nico protests weakly.

“Yeah!”

…Very, very weakly.

“…Okay.”

Will whoops, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Nico yelps, nearly tripping over a cot, but when he looks back up Will has his eyes closed and is shimmying not unlike a worm on a fish hook, and it’s so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. Will pries one eye open, grinning widely, and shimmies harder.

“You’re such a dweeb!”

“Join me in the dweebiness! Free yourself!”

Nico rolls his eyes fondly, squeezing Will’s hand, and lets himself get ridiculous. He’ll deny it if anyone asks, but it’s fun.

…And not just because Will is next to him, smile brighter than any star, dancing like a massive dork, hand clasped in his.

419 notes · View notes

saturnicos · 3 months

Note

Hi! Can you make a Hazbin Hotel Headcanons of how the characters would comfort a reader who is having a panic attack.

Yeah! Ironically, I had a pre-episode panic attack during a class today, writing this helped me avoid a meltdown.

Of course, if you wanted into a different perspective (or other characters, since I don't write many at once), feel free to tell me :)

HH cast comforting !reader having a panic attack

With: Charlie, Alastor, Lucifer, Adam, Angel Dust

Context: Panic attack can happen any time, without any motivation. Unfortunately, that's hits you more often than you would like. In a middle of a conversation with them, you start to feel anxious and afraid, eyes widening and an immense desire to cry appearing. How would them comfort you?

. Charlie

— Oh! And I created a new plan that I would lik.. — Charlie interrupts herself as soon as she sees his eyes roaming the room, your leg shaking while the sound of your heartbeat was heard loud enough.

She knows that happens with some frequency and often is ready when happen. Actually, she's a bit imperative and has its moments of generalized anxiety; although it's not the same thing, it has a basis of what she can or cannot do to help you.

— Honey, look at me, please — She ask to you, holding your hand and looking at your eyes with a serious expression in her face. — It's ok, you'll be fine, you're safe with me. Now, breathe in and out with me.

She starts as an example, taking a deep breath through her nose and releasing the air through her mouth. Despite your mind clouded with fear and derealization, your eyes locked onto hers, unconsciously repeating what exercise she replicates, feeling your breathing regularize slowly, despite the tremor and fear continuing.

She smile at you, holding your hand with a little more strength and delicacy. She moves forward with her free arm at her side, asking for permission for a hug. You, without hesitation, allow it, approaching her and hugging her tightly, feeling her face resting above your head, allowing you to cry into her coat if you felt like you needed to.

— Don't forget to breath, it'll calm yourself. I'm here for you.

. Lucifer

He knows what gonna happen even before you. This man faces various emotional and psychological problems daily, he recognizes very well when someone seems to have a tendency to have a crisis. Especially coming from you.

The first thing he notices is your hand starting to shake and your eyes threatening to water. He's quick to cup your face with both hands, making sure you're looking and listening to him.

— Sweetie, hear me. — He asks in a gently voice, making sure not to get too close to you for fear that this would only trigger a sudden worsening of the attack. — Calm down, I'm with you, there's anything here that can hurt you.

Even with his supportive phrases, your tremor only got worse as your blood pressure only tended to drop, slowly obscuring your vision and slowing down your breathing.

— Here — His voice echoed in your mind, as if partially clearing the intrusive and distressing thoughts. An angelic voice. — Can you tell me five things in this room, please?

You didn't know from where this come, but tried to see something even with a bad vision. And you did it. Then he asked for four things that you could touch. After three that you could hear, after...

When you came to, out of the derealization, you noticed the tactic that he used to calm you down: 5-4-3-2-1, a way to distract the mind of fear to understand what was around you, consequently making you come to your senses when you noticed the space.

He also noticed as your breathing returned to normal and your body gradually shook less and less, smiling at you tenderly.

. Adam

He's a bitch. A fucking bitch.

At first, when he sees your eyes watering in the middle of the conversation he will think that some comment or joke of his got to you, and sincerely? He'd probably find it funny that you're bothered by this at this point.

— What's up, bitch? That wasn't even that aggressive — He responded in a mocking voice, leaning across the table toward you. His tone of voice was filled with a visible desire to laugh.

However, when he noticed that you ignored his comment and were shaking unnaturally, the expression on his mask changed to one that alternated between doubt and amazement.

The mask's mouth constantly opened and closed, as if he were interrupting whenever he thought about commenting on something.

— Fuck — He sighed heavily as he let out an audible curse, getting up from his seat and heading towards him, but stopped next to you when he noticed that he was a piece of shit with emotional comfort, especially with words of affirmation.

With an expression of uncertain, he took off his terminator mask and threw it on the table, looking at the office door, confirming that there was no one there that could burst into the room.

He then crouched down next to you, watching you cover your face with hands shaking, stifling a sob. Not really sure what do, he brought his hand to your back, patting it friendly as a strange way of showing support, since 1. he didn't know how to verbalize it and 2. he couldn't do it. But deep down he would like to try and provide some kind of support.

— I have no fucking idea how to help you, but... You know, if you need a shoulder, you've got me.

. Angel Dust

He knows what it's like to have an emotional breakdown and derealization, after all, it is something that constantly impacts him almost always after the work.

Despite the solution he always seeks for himself be the use of medication and perhaps a little alcohol, he would never make that an option for you since he doesn't want to inflict drug use on you. Health reason.

— Baby, is a hug okay? — he asks you in a compassionate tone, bowing his head slightly to the side as he raised his left hand to rest it on your shoulder.

When you nod, he wraps you in a hug with all four of his arms. A comfortable but not strong hug, allowing you to leave if you wish.

— You need to stabilize your heart rate, you know? Do what I do — He then took a deep breath for a few seconds and then let it out, repeating the process two more times before encouraging you to try.

You snuggled into your spot on the couch trying to control the shaking and tears as you repeated breathing exercise with difficulty. At first it was painful and burned your lungs, but Angel advised you to try again as soon as you felt like you could try.

— I don't have work today, how about a movie? I promise it won't be any of my big movies, your choice. — He laughed quietly, trying to lighten the sad mood with a light dirty joke as he picked up the controller. When he could hear a low chuckle from you, his smile grew.

. Alastor

He literally has no idea what happened to you. Alastor died before psychology studies were taken seriously, and particularly he was never someone very social or interpersonal, then see you having a mental imbalance suddenly was ridiculously weird.

He just stood there looking at you with that stupid smile on his face, trying to find some logic behind your attitude so that he could do something about it.

After a given moment thinking, in a snap of his fingers he manifested a tea set in the center table in the room. However, the withering smell of coffee took its place when he took one of the cups for himself and offered another one for you - one that smelled like valerian, a plant that helped with irregular heartbeat.

He looked at you as he sipped his own cup of black coffee with legs crossed, as if waiting for you to go ahead and drink the tea.

You then gave in and drank, pouring a few drops into your lap due to tremor. The tea actually wasn't that bad. As soon as he passed by your throat, the effect seemed to have already begun, gradually relaxing your muscles and calming your fear.

Along with the feeling of relaxation, an aroma of oils penetrated the room, making a combination in the air of more diverse aromas and smells in a pleasant mix.

By your side, Alastor beamed a satisfied smile as he helped himself to more coffee, talking to you again, occasionally asking if you wanted more tea or if you felt okay.

I love sm write comfort, but thinking about the angst before is painfully sad//

Thank you for read, have a good day or a good night :)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #charlie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader

394 notes · View notes

fairlyang · 4 months

Text

Thigh riding 🕷️

you are peer pressured to somehow help Miguel from the hell of a week he's had

w/c: 5.5K

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut, no use of y/n, lil plot, angy Miguel, going in with no plan, pestering, lots of tension, giving in, making out, thigh riding, jerking him off, tasting each other, cum

notes: the beginning of this I reused for “prank” but that was an og idea I abandoned then did end up using 💀

Miguel had been stressed, annoyed, and overworked for the past week and a half. No one even dared to go into his office or bothered to start up a conversation if they saw him walk the hallways of HQ. Not even Jess.

But that didn't stop Gwen from plotting something, because "why not."

"He will literally kill anything that comes within a 100 feet radius of him-" Miles says making me scoff.

"1000." I mutter shaking my head.

"Okay but we need to help him out somehow-" Gwen starts to say and I widen my eyes.

"Gwen, he will literally kill someone on instant impact-"

"Don't exaggerate-" she starts to say and I cut her off grabbing the ends of my mask and take it off for dramatic effect.

"I saw a glimpse of both veins yesterday." I say and shiver in exaggerated horror. "From afar."

They both turn to look at me with widened eyes. "Neck and forehead?" Miles asks with his mouth agape.

I nod and scoff, "So if you want a death wish....."

"I just feel bad-" she says and sighs. "There must be some way we can distract or help him?"

"I mean I feel bad too, it's not a nice thing to see... but what can we do?" I say and sigh.

Helping him or even bothering up to talk to him would be like talking to a concrete wall. Impossible and won't do anything.

"Maybe take him to one of those rooms where you hit garbage with a bat." Miles says and shrugs.

"A rage room? You suggest we take our boss to a rage room?" I ask and laugh. "Then he'd just get offended we think he has anger issues."

"Think?" I hear a familiar British voice speak and look up seeing Hobie walk towards our table.

I snicker then bite my lip. I'll shut up, Miguel could appear out of thin air. "Tell Gwen that we shouldn't be messing with the devil reincarnate."

"She and Miles shouldn't. Hell I definitely shouldn't..... but....." he trails on as he sits next to me and I groan.

"Do not even-"

"Perfect so you know where I'm going with this. Have fun-"

"Absolutely fucking not-"

"But why-"

"I don't wanna die!!"

"No, you won't-"

"He doesn't even have spidey senses and he's somehow just gonna sense the air being different before I even walk in-"

"Calm down-"

"He's fucking built different Hobie I'd be a goner-"

"Calm the fuck down!"

"Do you want me dead?!?" I hiss and he chuckles shaking his head at me and sits across from me.

"What don't you get- listen... he might dislike the rest of us. A lot.. but you're different-"

"Don't say that-“

"It's true and you know it!" He exclaims laughing at my reaction and I bite my lip looking down. There's no way....

I sigh and take a deep breath. Oh god.

"How the fuck do I change his mood though? I can't be too chirpy or pester him. Both are things I'm an expert in but won't help- it'll make shit more fucked-" I whine and groan.

"You can figure it out. You of all people can figure something out...." Miles cuts in and I roll my eyes.

"Come on arañita-" he teases and i scoff. (little spider)

"Oh fuck off-"

"See you're the only one that is even worthy of a nickname by the devil." Hobie teases with a smirk and I scoff.

Fuck-

"I never-" I freeze, eye widened. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

All three turn to look at me and give me a look. I purse my lips and close my eyes. I’m the only one worthy of a nickname? Really? just me- Did it really have to be me? I mean he does tolerate me. My presence. On a regular basis.... barely...

Shit.

I sigh and look back at them. "FINE." I mutter and stand up.

Gwen lets out a sigh and Miles covers his mouth not wanting to laugh. I glare at him and he lets out a snicker. "Miles Morales-"

"My bad!!" He says and covers his mouth again.

"If you don't hear from me within the next two hours, I'm as good as dead. Hobie you can keep my dog." I say semi jokingly and he nods giving me a thumbs up.

I roll my eyes at him and turn to Gwen, "You owe me one."

She waves me off letting out a laugh and I sigh. "Good luck." Miles says and fake salutes me.

I walk away from the table and instantly hear them snickering. Couldn't even wait for me to be gone-

What did I get myself into?

I let out a deep breath as I walk out of the cafeteria. I'm done for.

I walk the halls of HQ and head over to Miguel's office. i couldn't help but think. I guess it was kind of true? I bugged him but he never got like really mad? It's like he almost didn't mind my company? He's never kicked me out... what did that mean though?

Now the thing about Miguel is he's a very sarcastic, sometimes cold, very angry man. I somehow ended up kind of befriending him by calling him out on shit early on when I was recruited and he hates when I do it but somewhat respects I have the guts to do it at all. I play around with him a lot and at first it bugged him, a lot but then he started doing it back and that's the dynamic we have going.

Now this didn't make me an exception from when he gets pissed like he is now. At least that's what I was thinking..... but after seeing and hearing what Hobie was saying, I was conflicted. But why wouldn't he get mad at me? Because I was barely able to befriend him? I wasn't even close to the level of friendship he has with Jess and even she hasn't dared to talk to him.... or even Peter's friendship with him, and he's been with him through his ups and downs. So it wouldn't make any sense...

I shake off my thoughts and take a deep breath standing outside his door. I peep through one of the windows and he's looking at his screens. So he definitely hasn't heard me... yet.

I open the door as quietly and slowly as I can only to be met with his frustrated grunts at the screens in front of him. I quietly close the door and lean against the wall. He's swiping along muttering swears in English and Spanish making my eyes go wide.

I'm fucking done for. I didn't even come in with a fucking shed of an idea of how to distract him or cheer his ass up. I'm done. Me va gritar, me va chingar, y ni me va hacer caso- (he's gonna scream at me, beat my ass and he's not even gonna pay attention to me-)

Then he turns around to look me right in the eye, making me jump, and snarls, "You're breathing loud arañita, que quieres?" (what do you want?)

"You have some balls to come in here." He mutters before quickly turning back and mumbles, "Chingdada madre-" (mother fucker)

I cover my mouth to hide my nervous laughter and shake my head. I'm fucking breathing loud??? I knew this would happen-

"Be nice Miguelito, I just came to... check up on you.." I say and walk up to him slowly. I felt a bubble of nervousness form in my stomach and my hands were getting sweaty under my suit. This was gonna be bad...

He turns back around to me pressing a button on his watch making his mask disappear, showing me his distressed face and scoffs. "Check up on me? Oh so now I need hawk eyes all over me at all times?"

I gulp and stop just a few feet away from his platform. What the fuck do I even say???

"Do I look like I need checking up on?!?" He says and slams a hand on the desk making papers fly off and a pen roll off to the floor.

My eyes shift from his eyes to the floor to his neck. Oh god the veins... It's only the one on his neck- I'll try to keep it that way...

"Well...." I trail on and take a step up to his platform but still not within range to touch him or vice versa.

He completely turns to look at me and places a hand on his hip with a look on his face. What was it? Curiosity? Annoyance? Anger? I couldn't tell.

"Listen..." I start and put my hands up in defense, "we were starting to get worried-"

"We?"

"Yes. We. A handful of us..." I say and take another step forward and now having to look up at him but still not within reach. Oh fuck.

"And I think you've been in here too long... necesitas relajarte o distraerte." I say softly and put my hands down slowly. (you need to relax or distract yourself)

"Quieres que me relaje? Distráeme?" He asked unamused with a cocked eyebrow. (you want me to relax? To distract myself)

I simply nod and hold my breath.

Fuck fuck fuck.

"And how do you propose I do that?" He asks raising an eyebrow at me and I bite my lip.

That's such a good question....

"hmm... well I actually didn't really have an idea....." I trail on, scratching the back of my neck and he scoffs.

"So you came in here-" he starts but I interrupt.

"Now listen-"

"No, you listen-"

"Miguel-"

"You came here-"

"Yes-"

"With no idea-"

"Well Gwen was getting worri-"

"Gwen-"

"Well me too I guess but-"

"Oh so you were too-"

"Cállate-" (shut up)

"Escúchame arañita-" (listen to me little spider)

"And it's not that I didn't have a plan-"

"Really because it sure sounds-"

"I just didn't think-"

"You never do-"

"Cabron-" (asshole/bitch)

"Latosa." He snarls and I scoff. (annoying ass)

"Mendigo-" I blurt out and cross my arms against my chest. Then it hits me. (asshole but more aggressive maybe bastard fits)

Fuck.

He walks towards me giving me a glare and I freeze. This is it. I've lived a decent life- I got to enjoy my spider powers for as long as I could, helped a ton of people. But this is it-

He steps in front of me and I bite my lip looking at his chest too fucking petrified to look him in the eye. I bring my arms down to my sides and widen my eyes. Oh god why did he have to be so fucking intimidating.

He unfortunately gets rid of my thoughts and takes care of my lack of eye contact by lifting my chin up with two fingers. I gulp and stare into his eyes.

Amusement. Shock.

Then I look down at his lips. A smirk?

Huh?

"Repeat what you said." He demands and I stifle a laugh.

He was enjoying this? Maybe all he needed was a little pestering? Shockingly enough- could he have missed me- nah.... that's a stretch.

I look directly into his eyes and cross my arms against my chest. "Men-di-go." I say slowly making sure to annunciate every syllable exaggeratedly. I purse my lips and widen my eyes slightly.

I'm playing with fire. No- worse- a fucking ticking time bomb.

He raises an eyebrow with a shocked expression and I have the urge to burst out laughing but I don't want to make this any worse. Then in a swift movement his hand is gripping my jaw and my breath hitches in my throat. He tilts his head and leans down so I can't look at anything besides his eyes.

Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh.

He narrows his eyes down and I'm on the verge of breaking. I bite my lip, my heartbeat quickens, my cheeks grow red. His stare was intense. Neither of us looking away.

His grip was then softer, for a split second before he takes another step forward making me yelp as my lower back hit one of his desks.

His body towered over mine and his hands were then gripping the desk behind me, or on each side of my body so I had nowhere to go. I was trapped but it didn't feel intimidating. He didn't look like he was going to pounce. I let my hands stay on my sides and I couldn't move. I felt like I was frozen.

What the fuck was this?

My breathing was a bit unsteady and I couldn't do anything. Why'd I feel like I was in a trance?

My mind then took an unexpected turn from being nervous to intrigued. Excited. And I couldn't help but take a close notice of his features. His pretty crimson eyes. His high cheekbones. His thick eyebrows. His full lips. His big nose- we all know what they say about big noses-

No—

I then feel an oh so familiar feeling appear in my stomach and I gulp. Oh fuck.

My eyes slowly made their way down and really took in everything. I've never been so close to this man... ever... I was able to see everything-

His chiseled jawline that genuinely looked like it was sculpted by gods. Then I realized how much bigger and taller he was than me. He was huge. His broad shoulders. His toned chest. Muscular arms. Those biceps the size of my head. Which were all shown absolutely perfectly by his skintight suit.

Well every inch of him was shown to perfection, accentuating every curve, line, inch of his practically Greek god physique.

I then thought of escaping, my thoughts were going some place they've never been towards him, my breathing was unsteady, but then I felt his hands moving down to my waist making me take a deep breath in. What the fuck??? Que está tramando??? (what is he plotting???)

Suddenly as if a light switched in my brain I realized what I had to offer to relax or distract him.... I felt my cheeks get hot and I shift a tiny bit. Was I really going to-

I slowly looked back up at his eyes and he was already staring at me. He leans down a tiny bit, I could feel him breathing on my nose... I bite my lip and try to calm myself down. There's no way he's thinking the same I am.... Right?

His eyes had darkened and they looked glossy. The look in his eye- it was impossible to miss... oh my god-

I breathe out and slowly move my hand from my sides to go up to his chest. I prayed I wasn't reading shit incorrectly and leave my hands there gently. He didn't stop me. He didn't even flinch. Oh wow....

I didn't know where to go from here- I noticed his heartbeat going all over the place as well. Was he just as nervous as me? Just as excited?

Maybe he's had pent up arousal?

But do I help him?

He leans down a tiny bit more and our lips are now millimeters apart. His grip on my waist was firm and his body was against mine. I could now see the lust in his eyes and I have a feeling he sees it in mine. I was appalled. We've never, ever done anything like this. It didn't exactly feel wrong but it was odd? Different. Confusing. But felt right?

I slowly reach up to wrap my arms behind his neck and look into his eyes then down at his lips. They were right there.

He then clears his throat and I look back up into his eyes. "Creo que ya se como me puedo distraer." He whispers softly, his breath lightly hitting my lips, and I feel myself almost melt. (I think I know how I can distract myself)

So he was thinking the same as me.....

I nod in agreement, not trusting myself to speak and he takes that as his green light. I close my eyes and I feel the softness of his lips on mine. Instant sparks running through my body as I slowly kiss him back. I didn't think I would feel this way- hell I didn't think I'd ever kiss Miguel of all people... but it felt so good and natural...

I felt the flush of my cheeks grow warmer as I felt one of his hands going down to my hips and the other softly wrapped around my neck, and deepening the kiss at the same time.

I move my hands up to play with the ends of his curls and lightly tug on them making him let out a moan. I then slide my tongue into his mouth exploring every crevice as I feel his hands snake down and grope my ass, making a combination of a moan and groan leave my throat.

I feel him smirk before shoving his tongue in my mouth and I melt into his arms. He grabs the back of my thighs and lifts me onto the desk and stands in between my legs. I wrap them around his waist and bring him closer to me which makes him change the pace of the kiss, more passion, hunger, neediness.

I moan into his mouth and he pulls away making me whimper but his lips went down leaving wet kisses on my jaw, then moving down to my neck. I tilt my head to the side giving him more room as he licks a spot then sucking on it roughly making me gasp and grip onto his hair.

He groans against my skin and I feel my eyes fluttering as I feel heat go deep into my core. I was breathing heavily and the way I felt his hand go down to squeeze my thigh, definitely wasn't helping. His other hand was playing with my long hair as he left more love bites on my neck. By this time I felt like my neck was invaded with red marks, he would suck then lick it softly to ease the slight pain and repeat.

His hands were suddenly rougher on me, his hand on my thighs now nearing my inner thigh, trailing up and down, teasing me. He was now tugging on my hair making me head go back and he kissed up my throat sending shivers all throughout my body.

He pecks my lips softly then bites my bottom lip lightly. I cup his cheek and he suddenly picks me up so my legs are wrapped around his waist as he sits us down on the chair he has in his office.

I was sitting on his lap so I leaned down to kiss his neck making my way to his ear and nibble on it. I felt his breathing get harder and a groan leave his lips. I grind myself slowly onto him, I almost stopped when I felt him- he was so fucking hard...

I positioned myself properly and moved to grind directly on his bulge as I went down to kiss down his neck wanting to leave some marks on him. I found a spot and sucked on it harshly before licking it and moving my head towards his throat and kiss up it. I felt a groan against my mouth and I couldn't help but moan.

Why was that so hot?

I felt my wetness moving around between my thighs, I was possibly leaking through my suit- how the hell would that even be possible?

"Así- mm así mami-" he moans out and I move my hips a bit faster. I felt my eyes flutter and I felt like I could pass out already but I knew I had to stay in the moment. (Just like that)

I felt his hands grip on my hips helping me grind against him while my hands were behind his neck trying to steady myself. I moaned against his throat and I felt his hips buck up making his bulge directly rub against my clit. Fuck. "S-shit-" I murmur and feel my eyes closing.

"Would you get mad if I ripped your suit open?" He suddenly asks and I stop. I widen my eyes and I just look at him.

"A-Are you insane-"

"I could have Lyla make you a new one right now-"

"Don't call her now!!"

"I'm just saying-"

I then close my mouth and shake my head slowly. He motions for me to stand up and I get off his lap and stand in front of him with furrowed brows. He gets on his knees then in just a few seconds his hands go to my thighs as he rips the fabric of my suit, between my legs to be more specific. Now I just had a big hole between my thighs. "You owe me a new and improved suit by tomorrow." I mutter and he just chuckled and grabbed the back of my thighs.

He left small kisses on my inner thigh and I felt my legs shake. God how did he have this much of an affect on me-

I then suddenly feel cold and I look down and gasp at the sight. He used his fangs to rip my panties.

My mouth was wide open as he looks up at me with a smirk, my little blue thong between his fingertips. "Oh you sick f-" I start but then he spreads my legs apart and blows a small puff of air against my slit making me quiver.

I whine and he laughs. "Que decías nena?" He teases making me try to squeeze my thighs but he had a strong grip on them. That petname- (what were you saying baby girl?)

From his lips- madre mía- (oh my god-)

"S-sick fuck." I mutter and he smirks.

"Now I still want you riding my thigh... but I need to taste you." He growls and as soon as he finishes his sentence he licks a long strip on my already soaked pussy.

I moan and indistinctly move my hands down to his hair. He licks it softly at first until he went up to my swollen clit and kissed it, licked it then sucked on it harshly like a man that hasn't had dinner for weeks. He definitely was a starved man.

"M-Mig-" I moan out and buck my hips towards his face. He groans against my pussy and his hands grip the back of my thighs harder.

I move my hips back and forth and he continues eating out my pussy. His hands moved to smack my ass for a second and then up to my hips helping me grind against his mouth. "So good Miguel-" I murmur breathless.

He pulls away making me whimper until he brings a finger up to rub my swollen nub and I let out a moan. "Estas más deliciosa de lo que me imaginé arañita." He purrs looking right into my eyes. (you're more delicious than what I had imagined)

I whimper and close my eyes. This is really happening.... Miguel O'Hara is between my legs- I just felt his tongue on my pussy... he is on his fucking knees looking up at me- All it took to distract him was some pussy?

I come back to reality when I no longer feel his touch. I open my eyes to see he's stood back up. I look up at him as he back up to sit back up on the chair. Oh....

With one finger he motions for me to sit on his lap and I don't hesitate to walk back to him and place myself on his lap again. He shifts in the chair to have his left thigh directly on most of the chair then grabs my hips and make me lift one leg over his.

He brings my hips down my pussy now making contact with his suit. I gasp at the new texture and put my hands against his shoulders slowly moving. "Good girl." He purrs and his hands on my hips helping me move making it easier for me.

"I- but y-your suit-" I stammer and try to stop but his hands make me continue moving.

"It's fine." He whispers and presses on his watch and I watch as the lower half of his body is soon exposed as the pixels of his suit disintegrate.

My pussy was now directly on his toned thigh and it felt so good. My eyes begin fluttering again as I move my hips rubbing myself against his now soaked thigh. I then open them again and instantly take notice he's completely bare.

My breath hitched at my throat when I looked at his thick cock that was already throbbing and leaking with precum. I widen my eyes and gulp. There was no fucking way he'd fit... as if he read my mind he chuckles and lifts my chin up to look at him then holds my hands. "We don't have to go all the way- if anything I think seeing you cum will do it for me." He says and I feel my cheeks grow warm.

I subconsciously squeeze my thighs together and he groans. I bite my lip and roll my hips back and forth again, my hands going back to his shoulders to steady myself. He lets out a deep breath and his hands go back to my hips. "Look at you fucking dripping on me pretty girl." He purrs making me blush.

I look down at his cock and bring a hand down to gently grab it then spit on it. I start stroking him with my saliva dripping down a vein and I feel myself getting wetter. He groans, his grip on my hips now tighter as I grind myself faster on him. "M-Miguel-"

"You're doing so good arañita." He murmurs as I stroke him faster letting out moans of my name.

I whimper and feel my thighs starting to hurt but I was also slowly feeling my orgasm coming in. "Asi nena- se siente tan rico-" he praises breathlessly. (Just like that baby girl- it feels so good-)

He lays his head back and I let out bundles of moans and whines on top of him. He bucks his thigh up making me whimper in pure pleasure. My eyes were glossy, my body was growing tired but I was so close and he was too I could tell by the way his cock was twitching in my hand. I lean forward closer to him to have somewhat easier access to jerking him off.

One of his hands lets go of my hip and cups my cheek as he leans in to kiss me roughly. It was the sloppiest kiss I've ever endured in my life but I didn't mind and I kissed him back with just as much of his neediness. He moved his thigh up and down making my tremble and moan against his lips. "No pares-" he mumbles against my lips and I slide my tongue in his mouth stroking him even faster. (Don't stop-)

I feel him groan in my mouth and I melt into his shoulder almost giving out. Both his hands were back on my hips pushing them back and forth as he saw I was slowing down a bit. How kind.

I pull away and l lean my forehead against his, breathing heavily, legs trembling. My orgasm quickly took over making me shake more and let out shaky moans. I stop moving trying to calm my rapid heartbeat as I felt Miguel's grip dropped from my hips and to hold my other hand. Our fingers intertwined and my hand still didn't stop but that's when I looked down at his cock in my hands and realized he was cumming so I slowed down, letting him ride his high.

He let out so many grunts and moans bucking his hips into my hand. His streaks of cum shot up to my hands, his stomach, and my thighs. I chuckle looking down at the mess he made and bite my lip.

It's only fair I get to taste him too.

I bring my hand up to my mouth and lick off his cum that landed on my hand. I hear him gasp when I swallowed and I look up at him with a smirk. "I needed to taste you too." I say and bite my lip.

He snickers and shakes his head. I then notice the slight tug of a smile forming. Jesus.

Oh god- why the fuck did that give me butterflies.... Why did he look so good.

I looked at him, eyes hazed, hair pulled back, he was sweaty but he looked fine. So fucking good.

I can't believe we did that- us.

He was still holding my hand and I feel myself blush. Fuck- well now what?

I let out a sigh and try to stand up but instantly felt the pain in my thighs. "Fuck-" I groan and sit back down on him.

"Come here I got you." He says softly and moves my left leg over.

I lay my head against his shoulder and I feel him slowly lifting me up. I wrap my arms behind his neck and nuzzle between his chest. I felt fucking exhausted. "You did so good arañita." He whispers and I fight back a smile.

He walked up off deeper into his office, probably taking us to his room considering he completely fucked up my suit and my whole pussy was on display. I pull away and point at him. "New suit-"

"Yeah yeah yeah- para mañana. I got it." He retorts and I laugh. (For tomorrow)

He placed me down on his bed and I yawn. My body felt so sore and I look down at my thighs. Still had his cum on me... I bite my lip and shake my head in disbelief. How did this happen?

He walked over to his dresser and grabbed a shirt and some sweats. I scoff and shake my head. "Those won't fit."

He rolls his eyes at me and throws them at me, I catch them before they can whack me in the face. "Rude." I mutter and start talking off the remains of my suit.

I grab the ends from my neck and pull it down my body. Thank god I decided to wear a bra today.

"Where the fuck is my-?" I start to say then look up at him mouth agape.

I look at his hand and sure enough there it is. My thong. "Give it-"

"Ask nicely."

"I literally just helped distract you from your shitty ass week- dámelo!!!" I demand and stand up somehow gaining the strength to walk over to him. (give it to me!!!)

His eyes gaze down at my bra and I roll my eyes. "Want the matching bra?" I tease and he smirks.

"Well it is only fair I get bo-"

"Estas loco- now give it!!!" I whine and reach for it but unfortunately he was faster than me and lifts it high above my head. (You're crazy-)

Why did he have to be built like a giant at desperate times like this....

"I have an idea-" he starts but I interrupt.

"Dámelo latoso." I say sternly and he scrunches his nose. (Give it to me annoying fuck)

"You're not convincing me very well..." he trails on and I shake my head.

"Fine." I say walking back to his bed and putting on the clothes he gave me.

I slip on the big sweatpants and groan. I pull on the drawstrings to the tightest it can go and tie it. "It looks like I have no ass-" I whine and roll my eyes.

I quickly slip on the shirt and take off my bra. I slip the straps off my arms through the arm holes and then take the bra off from under. I throw it at him and with ease he caught it.

"Maybe this'll be how we can calm your ass down...." I say and give him a wink before walking out of his room.

"You're the perfect distraction arañita." He calls out and I bite my lip.

I take a few steps and I was back in his office before I quickly ran out. I open the door, slip out then close it. I lean against the door and can't help the smile the appeared on my face. Wow.

#miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara smut #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fic

618 notes · View notes

ickadori · 3 months

Text

++ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 — 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

↳ Choso is still unfamiliar with the more human way of doing things, but he is trying, so you can’t fault him too much when his actions resemble that of a curse rather than a human. VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

[cws] yandere. stalking. chikan. mild violence. fem reader. i’ve taken creative liberties and made it so that choso can choose when he’s visible to humans thanks to being half-curse, half-human :3 reader is american.

Right and wrong is not something that Choso concerns himself with - he simply does what he pleases.

It’s not in the sense of him thinking that he’s above human laws (he is) and can therefore ignore them, but rather that he’s not familiar with them.

Yuji has told him time and time again about what is and is not acceptable, but it just hasn’t clicked in his head yet. In the rare times that he shows himself to humans, he always finds himself breaking some type of rule, law, or societal norm, as Yuji tells him.

“You can’t walk so close to people, Choso - they’ll think you’re a pervert or something!”

“I don’t care if she smelt good - you can’t sniff her like a dog!”

“Put your dick away! That’s not a bathroom! You can’t piss there!”

“No, Choso! You can’t kill somebody just because the line is too long!”

Humans were bound by so many rules, it was annoying. Choso found himself staying hidden more often than not, choosing to observe the people around him rather than taking more ‘lessons on humanity’ from his younger brother—Yuji was a big help, don’t get him wrong, but Choso didn’t feel right taking lessons from his younger sibling. Choso was the oldest, the one meant to protect and teach his younger brothers (something he had failed to do on two occasions, as he so painfully remembers every day), and if he didn’t know it, then it was his duty to learn it on his own.

The regular people of Japan, the ones who were terribly unfit to defend themselves (it’d be a hassle trying to protect them - he’s glad they’re not his siblings), were incredibly boring. Majority of them only worked and slept, some occasionally getting drunk at some hole-in-the-wall bar before stumbling home and passing out in the living room.

Choso preferred watching the not-so-regular people of Japan, the ones who led a life that Yuji always turned his nose up at, but Choso didn’t think they were so bad. They do what they want, what’s so wrong with that, he always asked. They didn’t let rules shape their actions or let laws turn them into a completely different person - they were simply them, and Choso found it admirable, in a way.

He watched men cloaked in black skulk around alleyways looking for a target to rob, women dressed in skimpy clothing slipping into cars only to slip out a few moments later with blood on their cleavage, teenagers walking into stores with no money yet walking out with pockets stuffed full of snacks and drinks, men in suits exchanging briefcases full of drugs and money, truck drivers transporting living, breathing humans adorned in chains - the dregs of society as so many called them.

He watched them sparingly, only when he grew bored of the mundane lives of everyone else, everyone else except for you, of course.

Choso had been watching you ever since he first began this poor attempt to assimilate into Yuji’s world. You lived a boring, plain, safe life, but he found himself interested nonetheless. You were an office worker, one with a funny accent that he learned was American. You liked to read and occasionally write, and you went on walks in the park on the weekend and took pictures of the scenery. You didn’t drink and you didn’t smoke but all your friends did. You had a library card that you lost on a monthly basis. You had an unhealthy addiction to carbonated drinks. You hated going to the dentist. You avoided stepping on the cracks in sidewalks. You desperately wanted a pet but your lease forbade you from getting one.

These were the boring, mundane details of your life. Nothing exciting, nothing noteworthy, and yet Choso had memorized it all.

You were on your way home from work now, unaware of Choso’s presence behind you. He was close - close enough to breathe in the scent of your signature perfume and take a peek down the top of your button down. Even your bra was boring, a dull gray that covered you fully, and an annoyed pout formed on his face before he turned his attention to the phone in your hand.

You were checking your banking account, likely making sure that you had enough for your daily sweet treat and tea from your favorite shop. It turns out that you don’t have enough, but he already knew that. You didn’t get paid until tomorrow, and you had used the last bit of your money on a recurring subscription that you had forgotten to cancel.

You sigh under your breath before dropping your phone into your purse, and Choso falls into step beside you, the rest of the journey to the train station going by uneventfully, as usual.

It’s a new day, and the same routine.

There’s a couple that steps onto the train before the both of you, their hands intertwined and the woman’s head nuzzled against the man's arm. Physical affection was another thing that Choso wasn’t familiar with.

Even if majority of his life hadn’t been spent locked away in a sealed vial, it wasn’t in his nature to be gentle with his hands - they were tools to protect what was dearest to him, and the only way he knew how to do that was to kill whatever threatened what was closest to him.

Although he wasn’t sure if you would appreciate that in this moment - you were squeamish when it came to blood, funnily enough, and he doubted he could kill the man standing behind you without making a mess.

“Tch.” Choso hovers near you, his eyes taking in the scene. You’re on your morning commute to work, dressed in the white button down he watched you press this morning, and a black pencil skirt that stuck to you like glue - it had been amusing watching you shimmy into it, stumbling around your room and cursing as you threw worried glances at the digital clock on your nightstand.

You were dressed identical to every other woman on this train -your hair was even in a similar updo- and yet the man—the pervert as Yuji would have called him—had singled you out in the overcrowded place. He stood behind you, closely, and Choso leaned to peer around your shoulder, lip lifting in annoyance when he sees the man’s crotch pushed against the swell of your ass.

The act itself doesn’t bother him, but rather that you’re the one the man chose to enact it on. He likely wouldn’t have batted an eye had the man chosen one of the other women to feel on, but the sight of someone touching you had never failed to invoke a feeling of intense hatred in Choso.

He didn’t like it, and he made it known when he moved to stand behind the man. He settled a heavy on his shoulder, his energy dark, thick and heavy as it nearly filled all the corners of the train car - an embodiment of the anger swirling in his gut. The man jolts and looks back over his shoulder, seeing nothing but perhaps a murky, dark substance. His hand grips hard, and the crunch that sounds followed by the pained wail doesn’t do much to quell that anger.

He had touched you, someone that Choso was closely coming to regard as important, and there was only one way that could right this wrong, but that would have to wait until the number of people around were low. Too many eyes were never good, and Choso had studied humans enough to know that their first instinct was to run to the police when they saw a body drop before their eyes.

With a shove to the side, the man is thrown halfway across the car, and a cacophony of shouts sound off as he goes tumbling. You spin around, eyebrows pulled together and mouth set in an angry line, and Choso feels that strange human urge to comfort surge forth.

You cast a glare to the man, your hands moving to hitch your bag higher up your shoulder, and you keep your back to the door, likely in an attempt to keep that from happening again…what’s it called again? He’s seen this scenario play out before in one of Yuji’s books that he tries and fails to keep a secret.

Ch…chi…chikan, train molestation.

His brother is a pervert, without a doubt, but he supposes that works in his favor. The magazine had piqued his interest, firstly because Yuji had gone to great lengths to stuff it into the back of his closet underneath a set of his college textbooks, and secondly because it housed a taboo of society, and the taboo is what interested Choso these days.

He had read it in its entirety, and then had tried to witness it himself. He had spent hours hanging around the station, going in and out of cars and maneuvering between bodies to try and catch a glimpse of the depraved act, yet he came up with nothing, until today that is.

And what a letdown that had been.

His mouth pulls down at the sides, and he gives you a slow once over. He starts at neatly done hair, moves down to sculpted brows that frame glossy eyes, then to a nose that he wouldn’t mind feeling against his own, and down to a set of lips that he finds himself thinking about more and more these days.

He goes further down, down to the way your shirt stretches across your breasts, the buttons straining just a bit, and he tilts his head to the side, a new type of feeling now festering in the pit of his stomach.

Your hands clasp together in front of you, the movement forcing your chest to jut out a bit more, and when the train curves around a bend, Choso lets gravity move him closer to you, head angled down. You tense just a bit, and your senses must be a bit better than everyone else’s, or maybe he’s just doing a poor job at concentrating on concealing himself.

You push yourself a bit further into the corner, and he further crowds you into it, a spark of excitement running up his spine — prey. That’s what you remind him of in this moment as you cower in the corner from a threat you can’t see. He wants to sink his teeth into you—no, his hands. He wants to touch you and squeeze you all over, sink his fingers into soft flesh and leave his mark behind.

So he does.

Tentatively, at first.

The tips of his fingers hover near your cheek, casting a shadow that you’re unable to see, and his breathing grows labored when he finally touches you - it’s shocking, literally. You jump as you feel it, and Choso frowns. He hasn’t learned about the grand thing called static, so in his mind, his mind that was locked away and kept rudimentary for so long, this shock upon first contact signified something monumental…something visceral.

You press further against the wall, brows furrowing as your hand moves up to rub at your cheek, and Choso moves down to the slope of your neck, fingers running along the throbbing vein, racing pulse, and then he’s rubbing at your collarbones. You’re warm just like him, but where he’s hard you’re soft - soft, doughy, fragile.

His hands settle on your breasts, one in each palm, and he squeezes. Oh. You frown deeper, your eyes dropping to where his hands are groping, but you don’t see. He’s right up on you now, head angled down and jaw slack as he tests the weight in his hands - they’re a nice size, a good size. Your nipples get hard under his hand, and he rubs against it with his thumb - your bra is so thin.

He thinks back to that book and what he had read in it, images of the debauchery floating to the front of his mind, and his mouth runs dry at the thought of doing those things to you. He had never thought about sexual gratification, much less craved it, but he felt as if he had been subconsciously seeking it out all his life and he had finally found it.

His breath is practically coming out in pants, matching the rapid thumps of his heart. He traps your nipples between his fingers and squeezes. You suck in a sharp breath of air, eyes darting around at the other passengers who don’t pay you much attention - they’re all warily looking at the man still moaning in pain as he sags in a corner and clutches at his shoulder.

Choso squeezes again, and he knows it’ll feel better if he was touching you skin on skin, but he’s certain you wouldn’t take kindly to him scattering your shirt buttons all over the floor of the train and leaving your bra in tatters so he pushes that thought away for later - maybe for when you’re curled under your blankets at night and in a deep, deep sleep.

The maddening ache in his pants would have taken him by surprise a few months ago, but Choso has gotten pretty acquainted with his body with the help of a few snagged medical books and Yuji’s laptop (which was still an enigma to Choso at times).

Both of his hands leave your breasts to instead push at his pants, the baggy material easily slipping down toned, lean thighs until they pool around his booted ankles.

His cock is pale but noticeably darker at the tip, and there’s a long, prominent vein that starts at the center of his shaft and disappears into black, coily pubes. His cock has never been able to stand up properly, weighted down by the sheer size, so it hangs between his thighs, thick and heavy, identical to his desire for you.

He wraps a hand around his turgid length, hissing through his teeth as he does, and pushes closer. You don’t move a muscle, standing stock-still as you try and fail to make sense of all these ‘phantom’ sensations.

If they were able, he’s sure your knuckles would have long since turned white with how hard you’re clutching onto the purse that’s now cradled against your chest. Your thighs shift together, inadvertently making your skirt rise a bit, heels noisily clinking against the platform of the car as you shuffle, and Choso spreads his legs and bends at the knees, a heaving breath leaving him as he slots his cock right through the opening between your thighs that you so graciously left.

The tights clinging to your thighs are smooth and silky, and coupled with the heat of your skin that perforates through, Choso feels himself jerk and twitch at the feeling. It’s leagues better than his hand, and his mind is already spinning at the thought of how you’ll feel on the inside.

His hand comes down heavy against the door beside your head, and you flinch as your head whips to the side to look, eyebrows furrowing when you notice the large handprint on the glass. His other hand curls around the pole to the left of you, hand gripping it so tight that he can feel the steel denting underneath his grip, and he rocks his hips, slowly.

Warm, soft, squishy, the adjectives flit through his mind one after the other, a new one coming with each push of his cock between your thighs. He’s hot all over, skin burning and strands of black plastering themselves to his damp face. His balls are tight, and his left eye twitches when a soft sound escapes your mouth, a look of bewilderment on your face.

He comes, hard. His orgasm locks all his muscles up and makes his teeth snap together so hard they nearly shatter. His eyes roll back, the pole caves in under the pressure of his grip, the window beside your head shatters as his hand goes through it, and he makes a split second decision to show himself in an effort to shield you from the hail of glass.

Choso can nearly see the scream of fright that gets caught in your throat at his sudden appearance, and a grin that lacks remorse twists onto his lips. Your bugged eyes slowly trail down, and the scream finally un-lodges itself when you catch sight of his softening length and the mess it’s left on your clothing.

Choso hides himself once again and steps off at the next station as he fixes his clothing. You stumble off as well, frantically heading towards the security booth as your eyes dart around to catch sight of him.

Soon, he thinks.

He’d let you see him again soon enough.

#choso x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

362 notes · View notes

neon-lights-and-glitter · 2 months

Text

She's Totally Flirting With You

Summary- Jack gets hit on by a waitress, though he thinks she's just being nice, Paisley and Olive come to your defense to convince Jack she's flirting with him.

Jack had surprised you, Paisley, Olive, and Hayden with a family date, to a restaurant that the girls loved but was a little too fancy to take them to on a regular basis because even though they were pretty well-behaved, you didn’t want to accidentally become the family with misbehaving kids in a fancy restaurant.

You and Olive sat on one side of the booth, while Jack and Paisley sat on the other, Hayden sitting in a highchair on the side of the table. You could tell immediately that the waitress was flirting with Jack.

“What can I get you to drink?” She asked Jack first, placing her hand on his shoulder. Jack placed his drink order before she turned her attention to the girls. “And what do you two princesses want?”

“Daddy, can I get an orange soda?” Paisley asked, Jack nodded.

“Yeah, do you want the same thing Liv?” Jack asked.

“I want strawberry lemonade, please.” Olive said.

“And can we get water for both of them too?” Jack asked and she nodded. She took your drink order before turning her attention back to Jack.

“Anything else I can get you?”

“Can we go ahead and get a side of fries for the kids and let’s go ahead and get a second orange soda, she’ll want it as soon as she sees her sister have it,” Jack said and the waitress laughed.

“Of course, that’s so sweet that you’re thinking ahead,” She said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll be right back with all of that,” She let her hand linger on his shoulder as she walked away. The girls already going back to coloring.

“She’s totally flirting with you,” You said, and Jack laughed softly.

“No, she’s not, she’s just being nice.” Jack said, shrugging it off.

“If you want to call that just being nice, then okay,” You said sarcastically.

“She probably just knows who I am and doesn’t want to say something since I’m with family or something.”

She came back a few minutes later, placing all the drinks down, coming a minute later with the fries.

“I brought a couple extra plates, so they don’t have to share plates, I know I hated sharing when I was little, especially with my siblings,” She laughed softly. You and Jack split the fries between the girls, keeping a couple for Hayden, since he was eight months old you were letting him try different soft foods. “Neither of you look old enough to have three kids, are they all yours?” She asked, trying to make small talk.

“Yeah, they are all ours,” Jack answered, “We’ve been together for nine years, plenty of time to have a couple kids,” He joked.

“Do you guys know what you want to order?” She asked, her demeanor suddenly changing. You all placed your orders before she walked away again.

“Still going to tell me she’s not flirting with you?” You asked and Jack shrugged. “She literally has puppy dog eyes when she looks at you.”

“Well, maybe she’ll stop now that she knows we’re together.”

She came back a few minutes later to check on everything before checking on the table next to you.

“She needs to stop flirting with you Daddy.” Paisley said, loud enough for the waitress to hear. You smirked as you handed Hayden another fry.

“Do you even know what flirting is Paise?” Jack asked and she shook her head.

“No, but if Mommy doesn’t like it, then neither do I. You love Mommy not her,” She said.

“Well, you're right, I do love Mommy,” Jack said in agreement.

“She looks at you like Sadie does when you have food that she wants,” Olive said, taking a bite out of her fry. You and Jack couldn’t help but laugh at Olive’s comment.

“Where did you get that from?” You asked her.

“You say Sadie gives puppy dog eyes when Daddy has food, and you said that she’s giving Daddy puppy dog eyes,” Olive shrugged. Hayden started to get fussy in his highchair, so you took him out while you waited for your food.

“See, even the girls think she’s flirting.”

“Oh, they are just copying what they heard you say.”

“Maybe, but are you going to tell them she’s not and lie to them?” You teased and Jack fake gasped.

“Yeah Daddy, you can’t lie to us, that wouldn’t be nice,” Paisley said.

“Am I being ganged up on by my wife and daughters?” Jack said sarcastically.

“Maybe,” You smirked. “Even Hayden’s on my side, huh?” You asked Hayden and he giggled.

“Okay, okay, maybe I was wrong,” Jack said. “God, I’m screwed when they are teenagers, aren’t I?”

“You’re the one who wanted eight daughters,” You teased.

Tag list @jackharloww @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @hoodharlow @itsyagirljaz @heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @awhore4moree @harlowslefttoe @twerkforambrose @jackmans-poison @ilovenudy @taniapri @killatravtramp @easternparkway @macey234 @toocriticalharlow @lightsoutstyles @rachxc13 @iknowdatsrightbih @idktbh101 @blossomluvv @middlechild404 @hufflewhore128 @christinabae

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader

218 notes · View notes

crystallinestars · 9 months

Text

Kissing Headcanons Part 5 (Baizhu, Thoma, Albedo, Scaramouche)

Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7

(Reader's gender is not mentioned)

Baizhu’s health prevents him from indulging in heated make outs with you. He wants to please you, but whenever the two of you get lost in the kiss until your breaths run short, Baizhu erupts into coughing fits. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood with his coughs, so he opts for short and sweet pecks instead. He smiles softly at you when he presses his lips to yours in a tender kiss, accompanied by Changsheng’s disgusted noises telling the two of you to get a room. Baizhu frequently chides her for her rude commentary, but in truth Changsheng is happy that Baizhu found someone as wonderful as you to call his lover. The Liyuan doctor could use more support in his life, and she’s happy that you give him some much-needed company.

Baizhu’s favorite places to kiss you are your forehead and wrist. He’s a doctor so he can’t help but press his lips against your forehead or wrist to discreetly check on your health. He takes note of your body temperature, pulse, and skin condition, feeling relieved when he finds them to be normal, or chiding you to get more sleep and eat healthier if he finds anything amiss. Baizhu knows you’ll just tell him to stop worrying if he asks to do a checkup on you unprompted, but he can’t, which is why he resorts to using affectionate actions to disguise his intentions. However, he genuinely does want to show you his love with kisses and affection. Doing minor health checkups on you is just another form of his love and care towards you. You’re very dear to him, which is why he wants to make sure you’re healthy, especially if he has the capacity to help you.

In terms of receiving kisses, Baizhu really enjoys it when you kiss his temples or cheeks. Just simple, short pecks are enough to make him feel loved and cherished by you. As a doctor, Baizhu is always taking care of patients and oftentimes stretches himself thin to cure their ailments, so having someone show care towards him in exchange is a pleasant surprise. It makes his heart swell with warmth whenever you kiss his face, a tender smile pulling at his lips as he enjoys receiving your care.

--------------------

Thoma’s kisses are very loving. He is affectionate by nature and expresses his love for those close to him on a regular basis, but he has an especially large amount of love to give you, his lover. He really enjoys kissing you anywhere on your face, but if he had to choose, he’d say your lips are his favorite place to kiss because he feels the most connected to you that way.

When kissing, Thoma likes to cradle your face in his warm palms, gently angling your head into the most comfortable position for whatever type of kiss the two of you are sharing. Thoma’s kisses are more on the chaste side, but they always fill you with so much warmth and comfort because without him even having to say it, you can feel how much love he feels for you through his kisses. The protective way his arms wrap around you, the tender and gentle manner in which he caresses your face, the loving smile and gaze he directs your way— they all say I’m here, you’re safe with me. And you truly do feel your worries and anxieties melt away each time Thoma kisses you. You can’t quite explain it, but the sensation of safety and support he gives you with his touch is enough to make you believe that everything truly will be alright.

Despite his innocent, golden retriever-like demeanor, Thoma absolutely can share more heated and passionate kisses with you, especially when he’s feeling frisky. During such times, the retainer likes to swipe his tongue against your lips before slipping it inside your mouth. He’s unexpectedly really good at French kissing, knowing all the right ways in intertwining your tongues together in the most pleasurable manner, only parting once you’re both short on breath, with a string of saliva joining your mouths together. Even so, Thoma still defaults to sweet and loving kisses because he wants to make you feel safe and loved in his presence. He aims to give you at least two such kisses per day—once in the morning and a second time before bed when his retainer duties at the Kamisato Estate are finished. Sharing kisses with you always brightens his mood and fills him with the energy and determination he needs to carry out his duties quickly so he can return to your side and see your beautiful smile again.

--------------------

Albedo has read enough books and seen enough couples to know that kissing between lovers is supposed to be an expression of romantic love that happens in the spur of the moment. After he gets into a relationship with you and dates you for a while, Albedo becomes curious to know what kissing feels like. And who else would be better to test it out with than with his lover?

Though he knows that in theory kissing is supposed to happen when both parties are in the ‘mood’, Albedo takes a more… scientific approach. When the two of you face each other in preparation for said kiss, Albedo’s mind will focus on the little things rather than the big picture. He calculates the angles at which your heads are tilted, the elevation of your lips, the pressure with which the kiss happens, its duration, etc… It’s a proper kiss, but you can’t help but feel like something is lacking. As nice as Albedo’s lips feel, the kiss itself is stiff and bereft of romance. Albedo also feels like this kiss wasn’t as magical as what the romance novels he read described.

Seeing the disappointment on your face, Albedo realizes that he’s missing something. After some reflection, he concludes that the kiss wasn’t as enjoyable for both you and him because he was approaching it as he would an experiment. He simply wanted to give you the best first kiss and thought that getting every aspect of it perfect would please you, but he forgot the most important thing: affection. It’s not enough to simply do the motions, he needed to put his feelings into it too.

With a solution in mind, when Albedo kisses you a second time, the difference is palpable. Gone is the analytical overthinking, replaced by tender touches and warm smiles. Albedo lovingly traces your cheek with the back of his hand while kissing you, and tucks away a strand of your hair behind your ear, whispering a gentle phrase of adoration when he breaks the kiss. It’s a completely different experience that leaves your heart racing and your cheeks warm. Mirth flashes in Albedo’s eyes at seeing you look so awestruck by his different style of kiss, happy that he got it right this time. He teases you about it with an amused smile, pleased to see your cheeks flush in response. From then on, Albedo will abandon his analytical approach to romance and instead focus more on just enjoying the tender moments with you that feel just as enchanting as the romance stories made it out to be.

--------------------

Scaramouche may put up a snarky attitude and indifferent front, but despite his prickly demeanor, his kisses are surprisingly gentle. He may not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but he does genuinely care about you and your wellbeing and doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you by kissing you too aggressively. He’s lost a lot of people he cared about in his life, and he’s scared that if he treats you poorly or hurts you on accident, then you’ll leave him. As such, it takes him a long time to work up the courage to kiss you. You even thought that he wasn’t interested in such intimacy with how he avoided the subject for the longest time, but during a moment when you managed to get his walls to come down and expose his tender heart, Scaramouche is overcome with affection and takes the plunge. He caresses your cheek in his palm before leaning in to gently press his lips to yours, catching you by surprise in the most pleasant way.

His actions speak louder than his words, expressing his true feelings that he doesn’t have the courage to say aloud, but you can feel his love for you through his tender and gentle touch. When Scaramouche pulls away, he looks at you with a rarely seen vulnerability, studying your face with a certain level of seriousness, as if trying to gauge how you felt about the kiss. It meant a lot to him since he essentially fully let you into his heart, something he hasn’t done in hundreds of years because of how painful the other times were. But you are special enough to make him take that risk again. Don’t tease Scaramouche about how serious he looks after your first kiss, he’ll blush and say a snarky remark with a frown on his face, feeling embarrassed by your teasing and will avoid kissing you again for a long time afterwards.

From then on, Scaramouche will stick to giving you gentle and lengthy kisses, enjoying the contact of your lips against his. However, if you stay persistent and provoke him enough (or make him jealous), he will snap and kiss you more aggressively, mashing your lips together in a rough kiss that will leave your lips slightly swollen. He’ll feel a little bad for being so rough with you so expect some indirect aftercare later, but a part of him will secretly feel smug about it. In his opinion, your kiss-swollen lips will signal to others that you’re his, and it’s a very satisfying feeling indeed.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #baizhu x reader #thoma x reader #albedo x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #These just keep getting longer and longer. I'll go back and redo part 1

580 notes · View notes

alienwithaguitar · 2 months

Text

Shelby said a lot during her stream, teetering from honorable to downright strange, and I want to address some of the issues. Before I say anything, I am still supportive of Shelby’s story, but this stream revealed a lot to me. I especially push Shelby supporters to read this, as this stream pushed MANY people I know to a neutral stance.

Shelby claimed having a depressive disorder just involved "feeling depressed", which is a harmful misconception that minimizes our struggles. Depression is more than feeling sad, and is categorized as being "different from regular mood changes and feelings about everyday life." It can involve constant hopelessness, angry outbursts, loss of motivation in most activities, and can lead to fluctuating weights, suicidal ideations, and self-sabotaging. To say "we all feel a little depressed sometimes" is to dismiss the lifelong struggles people with depression go through.

Shelby also implies that people with mental illness cannot change, and that recovery is not possible if your depression has hurt others. Not only is that an incredibly harmful idea to spread, it's blatantly incorrect. Just as habits and thoughts are trained throughout your life, they can also be untrained. There is genuine psychological basis in this, and to say that recovery is impossible is scientifically false. Personalities shift our entire lives, and changes in our physical and mental environments help us train new habits. This is part of the reason we try forming better schedules in new environments, and why a consistently stressful environment can bloom negative habits.

People don't chose to have mental illness, and if you're never taught to handle it, it can be extremely easy to hurt others. The most powerful tool to recovery is believing you can be better, and Shelby telling people to not even try is just enabling self-destructive people to hurt others for the rest of their lives. Change is a long process, but it's absolutely possible- Something as simple as a disruption in your life, a wake up call, and a drive to be a better person are the first steps to kickstarting change.

Shelby’s claims are very strange considering the rest of the stream. Earlier, she went on a rant about content creator’s influence on teenagers. She acknowledged teenagers are impressionable, and that it’s important to take care of those looking up to you. She recognized her fanbase was mainly teenagers, many of whom struggle from mental illness. It feels backwards to emphasize being a good role model before telling thousands of kids that their mental illness makes them a bad person. Her statement was about treating people with kindness no matter what, but she couldn’t keep that energy for people with depression.

Shelby herself was able to find help in therapy, so to deny that others should seek help feels selfish. She also confirmed on stream that she's seen the informative resources people sent her, and that she has ignored them. I can excuse the stereotyping if she's willing to be educated, but she's made it clear she believes she’s right. This is one thing I cannot defend, and I can't forgive her for slandering myself and thousands of struggling teens’ progress to their faces.

One final thing Shelby mentioned was that we should wait for evidence, and it's alright to feel doubtful. I want to revisit her statement with the current evidence we have, that I will take with a grain of salt by her own request. With the proof we have, nothing that Shelby claims comes across as abusive outside of the biting.

Shelby said she would get locked in his house at times. UK houses need a key to unlock the inside, and Wilbur likely only had one. While at his house, Shelby had access to her phone, and there were ways she could communicate with him or call for help if this was a problem. We have no evidence to claim that he trapped her. Shelby also stated her family never met Wilbur, because she had to travel to meet him. It wouldn't be unreasonable to stay in his house for an extended amount of time, and that was entirely her choice. She certainly might have felt neglected, but to claim that it was entrapment is baseless.

Wilbur was also busy with tours, absent nearly 200 days of the year. Feeling lonely makes sense, but raising that as abusive and holding it against him is ridiculous. As a famous musician, Wilbur has obligations that he legally can't drop. This was something she needed to be aware of when pursuing a relationship with him. She's allowed to wish things were different, but genuinely expecting him to abandon his lifelong passion is more than a little strange. This doesn't detract from her feelings, but to hold his legal obligations over his head when she should’ve known he'd be busy is unreasonable.

Shelby has also made a point of publicly shaming his hygiene. The inability to care for yourself and your space is a common symptom of depression. It was kind of her to clean, but her words imply she thinks he's just lazy. She explicitly notes that Wilbur didn’t expect her to clean, but that he waited for her to clean. This is weird to specify, as people with depression typically don't make plans to clean for long periods of time. She likely just assumed his inaction was a sign for her to do it, rather than something he struggled with and had no plans to do anyway. I don't think she was right for shaming his depressive habits, and I don't think he was right for dismissing her help. However, the comments he made about her cleaning very strongly imply that he never had plans to clean either way. This just reads as a choice to help out, not expectation or pressure.

Based on the evidence we have now, the points Shelby made just come across as her dating a mentally ill man and not being prepared for the challenges that come with that. Her family never met him, and he was very busy, so there wasn’t much outside opinion she could get. It's reasonable for her to feel neglected, but that doesn't necessarily mean it was intentional harm. It's important for both parties to get help, to communicate what happened and talk about their feelings. Wilbur stated he was committed to talking with her and addressing her concerns, while Shelby blocked him and refused to communicate, despite telling him she wanted to remain friends. All she's done since is reject his apology (even though he made a statement, not an apology, for legal reasons) and ignore his requests to speak. This avoidance to communicate is likely why the lines of consent and expectation were blurred in their relationship, as they've both expressed an inability to communicate.

This was not written to discredit Shelby's experience, I do believe she has trauma. However, you can absolutely be traumatized by relationships that weren't necessarily abusive. I've experienced years of PTSD from completely fabricated nightmares, and have trauma from repeated hallucinations of my ex. She’s not lying about her feelings- But between the contradictions, refusing to talk with Wilbur about an apology, and the insistence to "communicate” despite the fact that she blocked him, I can't support Shelby's actions.

I will always fight to uplift victims, and I am sympathetic of her story, but I can't defend someone who makes no effort to communicate or educate herself before speaking. Until either of them presents something that is beyond "he said, she said" I will remain neutral. I think they both deserve a chance to change and talk about this privately, and I will be waiting for a better response in the mean time. There was clearly miscommunication, and this was brought to us prematurely (shown by her contradicting statements.) I urge you all to look at the evidence and hopefully come to a similar conclusion. You can feel for someone's experiences and sympathize with their mental state without endorsing them. Stay safe, be kind, and don't jump to any conclusions. 🤍

#wilbur #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #not a wilbur defense post #but its still important to consider #shelby #shubble #shelby shubble #wilbur support squad #shubble support squad #shelby support squad

195 notes · View notes

georgiapeach30513 · 7 months

Text

Your Mark On Me, Part 7

Summary: you and Bucky learn to navigate your relationship

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of arson, mutual pining, mentions of branding, mentions of a gun kink, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.3K

Series Masterlist

*dividers by @firefly-graphics

*Bucky edit by @nixakimbo

“Mmm,” you moan. Feeling more rested than you have in years. A warmth radiates from your belly, and you start to turn to your side. But the warmth hisses at you, and you jolt awake. Staring down at her sweet face. Her blue green eyes twinkle at you before she crawls back up to lay on you. And then you panic.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Alpine meows up at you, tapping her paw on your face before you ever get to six. Pressing herself against you, and you feel her body vibrate with her purrs. It’s not that she isn’t beautiful and adorable. You’re just in a stranger’s home.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Her toe beans tap a bit harder on your chin, and you give her a frustrated look. “This is my process,” you whisper, looking towards the door to the bedroom. “Is he a light sleeper?”

Alpine jumps off the bed, and bounces to the door, turning back to look at you innocently. You aren’t sure if she needs to just get out of this enclosed space, or if she needs to see her owner. You shake your head, and bring your knees up to your chest. You didn’t know how you were going to get out of his house without him seeing you. Or worse, where would you go?

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Her screeches and loud meows make you open your eyes. Her hand scratches at the door in front of her.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“Hey, baby, what’s — oh,” he walks closer to you, and your breath stops. “Shh,” he softly says, pulling your hand up to his mouth. Feel my breathing. Inhale. Exhale.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“You want to breathe, just follow me,” he pulls your hand down to his chest, and you feel his warmth under your palm. “Come on, I know you can do it. I’m not going to hurt you,” finally, blinking as you gasp for air. “There ya go. That was perfect. Follow my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Alpine, come here, girl. She stayed with you all night, didn’t you?”

The fluffy angel jumps in your lap, and you smile as you look down at her. Starting to run your fingers through her fur as your breathing and heart regulates, “I think she likes you. She hasn’t even begged for food. So, what do you remember from last night?”

“Fire,” that was the simple answer. The complicated answer was you cleansed yourself of all the embedded memories in that house. You couldn’t tell this stranger that.

“Yeah, there was a fire. Why didn’t you leave the house?” His fingers tap over his knee. An odd gesture that makes you think he wants to hold your hand. You can’t right now, even though it doesn’t make you want to run. For a stranger he’s showed more kindness to you than people that were supposed to protect you.

“I don’t know. I just wanted to watch it devour everything.”

He licks his lip, pulling the bottom one in as he bites it. Contemplating the next question. “What happened to your arm?” It’s the first time you’ve noticed he has an arm that is made of metal. Thinking you might have offended him with that question, you start to stumble over your words, “I’m sorry. I have scars, too. I don’t like talking about them,” his metal arm isn’t all you notice since he is topless.

“It’s okay. This arm doesn’t bother me anymore. It was an accident when I was in the army,” armed forces and a wounded soldier equals bad. It was always bad, “I don’t drink, and the only thing I do on a regular basis is smoke. I’m not that kinda soldier.”

“My dad was,” your eyes flick up to look at him, and he gives you a tiny nod. “How did you know where I lived?”

“You’ll hate me if I tell you. I don’t want you to hate me,” you didn’t want to hate him, and aren’t even sure you could. He is too kind to hate.

“Did you follow me from the grocery store?” He grimaces, but nods. “You didn’t bring me milk.”

“I saw you have a panic attack. I’m familiar with them because I’ve had them. I needed to make sure you made it home okay. It’s nothing sinister,” what should repulse you is sweet. The man who didn’t know you took the time to make sure that you were okay. And had returned at least on one occasion, but something tells you that it wasn’t just the once.

A silence passes between the two of you, and Alpine turns to put her paws on your chest, meowing softly before she nuzzles into you. “You kept coming?”

“Would you hate me if I said, yes?”

“No.”

“Since we’re being honest, why did you burn the house?” While it seems ill advised, you trust this man. He’d saved your life on more than one incident, and had continued to come in just to check on you. You want to tell him your life story.

“It was a piece of shit that housed a piece of shit, and it killed the piece of shit. I didn’t want it to kill me, either. I needed a fresh start. I didn’t need to be burdened down with…I’m not crazy. I’m odd, but I’m not crazy. There’s things that I don’t want to talk about right now,” it feels good to speak candidly about your past. Let a perfect stranger know your odd reasons for destroying that part of your life.

“But would you? Eventually talk about those things?” You aren’t sure why, but you like him. Not in some weird sexual way, but you like him. He’s warm. Soft, understanding, and patient. His voice is deep and loving. The lack of love you have felt most of your life makes you want to cling to him, but you need a boundary set up, so he can’t hurt you. They always do. You trust them, and they flip.

“Eventually. Thank you. I need to get dressed, and — I have nothing,” looking down at the clothes on you, realizing they’re his, your breathing starts to pick up. You had nothing. Just your laptop, and whatever you were wearing last night. Wherever it was.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Hey, shh, we can go out and get you clothes.”

“I have nowhere to even live,” you burnt everything. The roof over your head.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“It’s not even been twelve hours since last night,” his voice never gets agitated. It remains steady. Even. It almost makes you calm down. But you had nothing left. It was all ashes.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Inhale. Exhale,” why did he keep interrupting your counting? Why did he even care?

One. Two. Three. Four.

“This place has two rooms. Don’t worry about where you’re living. You can have this room. I don’t have much. Most nights I sleep on the couch anyways,” inhale. Exhale. He is serious. “I’m not asking for anything from you.”

“Why not? Why are you doing this for me?”

“I’ve been there. I just want you to feel kindness for a change. No one deserves to live in a mental hell. Even if it makes you a creative genius,” you crack a smile, naturally giving his leg a soft tap as you giggle. He knew enough about you. It is silly, but it makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment thinking about him searching what you did for a living. Odd that he was able to find out that little tidbit, “What?”

“You not only followed me home, you read up on me?” He winks and nods his head towards a bookshelf. Your eyes scan over each of the books in there, and each one of them is yours, “You’ve…you bought them all?” You try to hide your smile, because what should be weird, is oddly adorable.

“No, I read them all. They’re amazing. I don’t know what really happened to you, and I don’t expect for you to tell me your true story, but your experiences have created worlds. You should be proud you used your life for something amazing.”

“I did, didn’t I?” You never compliment yourself. Never even like to bring attention to your work. It’s why you use a pen name. You never talk about your worth, but he was. Not just your worth, but your work. So much of yourself went into writing those worlds. Those moments and memories. The lack of wanting to do book tours, you never hear the good side of it. It felt nice.

“You want me to make breakfast? I make amazing eggs Benedict. I’ll even let you feed the queen Alpine her breakfast,” that sweet baby meows loudly, and jumps into the floor. Turning back to look at you with an angry noise. “She’s impatient.”

“I don’t want you to pity me.”

“I don’t. You fascinate me. There’s no pity coming from me. Except the pity I’ll feel if you don’t feed her fast enough, and she starts nibbling on your baby toes. It stings a bit.”

“Okay,” you whisper, following the smart kitty out of the bedroom. She seems to know where everything is, so you’ll listen. And maybe, hopefully this wasn’t a big mistake.

“And what exactly are you making?” You ask Bucky, jumping up on the counter opposite of the stove just to stare at his back. He continues to move around the food, and Alpine meows up at you. “Your daddy says you can’t get up here.”

“She can’t. Baby, go get on your tower, or you can ask your…Shy Violet to get off the counter, and quit bothering me,” Bucky peeks back at you, wondering if you caught his slip up in calling you Alpine’s mom. You didn’t. You are still smiling down at Alpine, pointing towards her tower.

“Daddy says no getting up here. Go on, my sweet girl, I’ll cuddle with you later,” Alpine has to be the smartest kitty alive because she meows loudly and angrily before she trots over to her cat tower, and you reach into the salad bowl pulling out a lump of feta. “Bucky, what are you making?” You give a little whine to him, lifting a leg to tap on his butt.

His arm quickly reaches behind him, and grabs onto your leg, “I told you that you better quit trying to touch my ass,” he actually wished you would touch it with your hands. Each day that passed he needed you to be more than just his roommate. Sleeping in the same bed as you was becoming harder, and so was he. It was fine, but it wasn't enough. He wanted all of you.

“Yeah, but you won’t tell me what you’re making for dinner,” you had that voice. The one that drove him crazy, and made him melt. You used it in your most comfortable state, and that filled his heart with so much warmth.

“Quit eating the cheese,” he warns you without looking. “It’s Tuscan gnocchi.”

“You’re putting spinach in it, huh?” Letting go of your leg, he turns around to smile at you. Your quirks make you that much more appealing. He just wanted to keep you in his pocket to protect you. “I don’t like spinach.”

“You can’t even taste it.”

“Then why are you putting it in there? It makes no sense whatsoever if you can’t taste it..”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, removing the pan off the burner. Turning off the stove he turns around to look at you, and you shake your head no. “You better trust me,” his voice darkens in a playful way, and your belly gets all fluttery with the pesky butterflies.

“Or what? What are you going to — ahhh!” You scream as he picks up your body to sling over his shoulder.. Carrying you into the living room, and dumps you onto the couch. His hands extend above your body, and he wiggles his fingers. It only means one thing. “Bucky don’t! The food!”

“No. You know, Shy, you asked for this.”

“No, I didn’t! Bucky, no!” You roll out from under him onto the floor, and you jump up quickly. Avoiding the tickles that he was threatening. “Aha! I defeated you!”

“If I really didn’t want you to escape me, you wouldn’t,” he taunts you, taking a slow and calculated step towards you.

“Or maybe I’m just that good.”

“Really?” You giggle nodding your head as he takes another step. “We’ll see about that,” you didn’t like the sound of that one bit. You knew Bucky was more than capable, but there is something about that chase. “Run, Shy.”

“Ahh!” Screaming as you run past him and on the other side of the coffee table. “Missed me.”

“I wanted to.”

“That’s what they all say when they just can’t — woah! No cheating,” your cheeks burn by how large you are smiling. Running throughout the house while Bucky slowly stalks after you. “Your arms are longer than mine, it’s not even fair.”

“What’s not fair is the advantage I have given you. I could catch you anytime I want.”

“Oof,” he pulls you roughly into his hard body. Wrapping both arms around you, and holding you so close to him. “You cheated.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” your chest heaves with his close proximity as you gaze up into his silvery eyes. “Why are you trembling, Shy girl?”

“I’m not,” you are. You always do when he gets close to you. Your body yearned for him. Screamed out his name whenever he got too close. And your mind told you not to mess up a good thing. “I’m not.”

“You know what I love about you living here?”

“What’s that?”

“I love hearing your laugh. Listening to your ideas on what you’re working on. Even if it’s your ridiculously pretty handwriting on napkins that are scattered around the house somewhere. I love coming home, and you and Alpine are taking your afternoon nap asleep on the couch, and you only wake up when you smell me cooking. I love that you also don’t count anymore.”

“I do, too,” Bucky scrunches up his nose, shaking his head no. “I’ve got it down to counting to three. But I still count,” his face moves a tiny bit closer to you, and you gulp. There isn’t anywhere to go. He had you in a death grip, and your heart in a chokehold.

“Why aren’t you dating anyone?” You blurt out, making his movements towards you stop.

“Why would I want to date? No one would put up with what I do, and you,” you had feared he didn’t date because you lived here with him. Your heart sinks a tiny bit thinking that he thought you were holding back.

“I could…you know, I could always leave,” you can’t even look at him after you suggest that. You didn’t want to be anywhere that he wasn’t. But you also couldn’t risk ruining the friendship that the two of you have.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Why? Is this an Alpine thing?”

“No,” he whispers as his eyes dart to look at your lips, and your chest starts heaving. You are an observer, and you couldn’t miss that motion. It’s something you had been hoping for.

One. Two. Three.

“This is definitely a you thing,” his husky voice whispers as his lips hover above your own. He is so close, and neither of you dare to move in any other direction.

One. Two. Three.

He was not suggesting what you are thinking. Bucky is always a straightforward guy. If he meant anything more than what your brain was making up in your head he would say something.

“And a me thing,” he adds. He was suggesting what you were thinking. But now the reality of it was crashing in on you. Making your chest heavy, and your palms sweaty.

“One. Two. Three.”

“Shh, you’re counting out loud,” before you can get out another word, his lips press softly against your own. One sweet chaste little kiss, and you start to see stars. “Breathe, Shy. I can stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” your words are barely audible as your hand snakes up his chest, and settles behind his neck. Pulling him closer to you, and you slot your lips against his. “I don’t want you to ever stop,” your lips are right against his, and he lifts you up. Holding you tight against his chest and your legs settle around his waist, while the two of you discover each other again.

This time is so much more intimate. Innocent open mouth kisses until his tongue tickles against your lips, and you whimper out his name. He softly pushes your back up against the wall as your tongue meets his. Tasting the cigarette he had before he walked inside, and craving even more. Ready to devour him. Sinking into him, and feeling like home.

You have never had this much love and comfort in your life. Bucky was dangerous to everyone, except you. He was soft. He was perfect. He was your everything. “Dinner’s gonna get cold.”

“Bucky!”

“Shy, I don’t want to stop. But if I don’t, I’m going to have you laying on the floor, while I have my way with you, and you deserve more than that.”

“What if that’s what I wanted?” He shakes his head no, but you give a roll to your hips. “I do.”

“You do right now because your hormones are running rampant. Baby, I don’t want to just have sex with you. I want us to be our everything. I can’t have just sex with. I need you to love every part of me. Even the bad parts because I’m not changing who I am and…”

“You know I love you, Bubba,” he knows the care you have for him. The excitement you feel when he comes home. But he wants your entire soul to be fused with his.

“I don’t want that kind of love. I love you, Shy, but I need…I want to fall in love with you, and if we continue down this path is going to be us fucking, and end up hating each other. I can’t do that. I won’t lose you.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means we’re going to have dinner, and this weekend, I’m going to take you on a date.”

Alpine hisses, jumping onto your stomach as she gets in a defensive pose, looking at the door. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, focusing on Bucky. He never barged in the house like that. Alpine, now satisfied with the lack of intruder in the house, nuzzles back on your belly, and you search Bucky’s face confused.

“Bubba?” He grits his teeth, looking at anything but you. “Bub, where have you been?”

“Steve’s,” he whispers, stomping into the kitchen where he pulls out a bottle of beer. Throwing the lid into the garbage before sitting on the couch. Didn’t care that Alpine growls more than purrs when he pulls you into his lap. Nursing his beer while holding you tightly.

“He’s lost his fucking mind. He branded her. Put a goddamn tattoo of his mark on her neck, and she didn’t ask him to. He brought someone new to his house where he wants to keep her. His house was supposed to be a secret, but no, let's tell everyone where you plan on taking the one person that could even attempt to soften him up. And what happens when he gets soft, he gets harder. He’s scared of his own emotions, and that fear could have just…she won’t forgive him.”

Pursing out your lips, you don’t know the best approach to help Bucky. You just want him to work his thoughts out, while you listen. Pulling his metal arm up to your chest, you hug it. It was one of his least favorite things about himself, but it was one of your favorites.

“He was getting there, Shy. I know he was. And he had to prove to himself he wasn’t actually falling for that girl, so he goes and makes her hate him. That way when he officially breaks her, it’s that much more of a challenge to him. He’s fucking fucked in the brain.”

“You’re gonna have to work on not cursing so much, Bubba,” you whisper, nuzzling more into him.

“And then he had the fucking audacity to mention you, and…I hate him. He’s never had anyone that has ever called him out on his shit, but me and Sam. And then he dismissed me like it was nothing. Now he’s got Sam, but Steve — you know he has this tendency to trust the people he’s hired, and you just fucking can’t. Not with her. She’s defenseless, and wreckless, and pushes his and everyone else’s buttons, and…”

“How is she?” Bucky looks down at you, before smacking the arm of the chair. “What happened?” He shakes his head no, leaning back on the couch. He was always trying to protect you from the reality of his world. But you want to be there for him, like he is for you. “Bub, I knew when we got involved seriously what kind of world you lived in. If we’re going to be a family, I want to know.”

“He made her watch in a mirror as he fucked her with a gun.”

“You know that’s an actual kink, right?” He lifts up, to stare down at you. “I don’t want your gun anywhere near us. But that is an actual kink. When she called, did she mention if she enjoyed it? That girl is just as sick and twisted as he is. But did he go too far?”

“He just said her cum was dried on his gun. But…no, she didn’t tell me if she enjoyed it,” he makes his scrunched thinking face while he contemplates everything that had happened tonight.

“Maybe she’s too ashamed to admit she did. Maybe she didn’t. But you said he tattooed her neck?” He nods his head before letting it drop back on the couch, and stares up at the ceiling. The idea of whether you loved or hated that part of the evening. “So what’s going on now? What did she say when she called you?”

“That…” Bucky squints his eyes as he watches the blades of the ceiling fan. “That her and Steve were never going to be able to get rid of each other. That he marked her, and — she wants to make him pay. But there’s only one way to make him pay when it comes to her.”

“Bucky?” He sits back up again, his mouth turning up into a smile, “Did you say he dismissed you?” When he nods, your head tilts to the side because you know that Bucky and Steve run deeper than a business partnership. They were a part of each other. Twin flames that burned brightly together. “What does that mean?”

“You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me.”

“And I want you to see a lot more of me,” you let your robe fall off your shoulder, exposing your naked body underneath, “And we’ve got to get used to not having sex all over the house. So let’s take this into the bedroom.”

“What are you up to?” He gives you a smirk as you let your dressing gown fall to the floor in a fluffy heap. “You’re naked in front of our daughter.”

“I sleep naked, James,” an animalistic growl emerges from his chest. That name always got to him. “And now I’m going to ride my fiancé until he comes, and he lets his brain stop for a moment.”

“Why does my brain need to stop?” You pull him by his shirt down the hallway. Swatting away his hand when he tries to touch your soft curves. “My sweet Shy girl, why do you need my brain to stop?”

“Because you deserve it. Now, take off your clothes, and get in the bed, please, James. I need to see all of you,” Bucky needs to see you as well. Stumbling about to get out of his clothes. His cock bouncing up once it’s free from its confines. “Get on the bed, Bubba.”

“Yes, ma’am. I like this side of you. Talk to Steve once and,” crawling onto the bed, your hand presses against his mouth, and you shake your head no. Straddling him, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slick.

“What we’re not going to do right now is say that name. You’re going to lay there, and you’re going to enjoy what you’re looking at. If there is something that needs to be said, I will say it, do you understand?” His head nods rapidly, and you let your body take every inch of him.

Settling down your hands smooth up and down his chest. Giving yourself a moment to adjust while you admire how beautiful he is. All the ink and scars on his body make him even more beautiful. They told his story. It was a painful story. Starting to rock your body over him, your right hand runs down his metal arm, and he smirks up at you.

He knew it was a favorite of yours. He’d woken up enough times to find you hugging it. Smiling at your sleeping form as it finds comfort in the one thing that everyone else feared.

Whimpering, you start to bounce over his body, realizing he was the first person that you had ever loved completely. The only person who saw your flaws and loved you even harder because of them. Bucky was your person. The one you were going to spend the rest of your life with, and build something more beautiful than the life you were given.

Bucky’s hands drapes over your skin. Tracing over your softness as his fingers paint your curves. He couldn’t have created a more perfect woman. You saw past his anger, and his past. You didn’t look at him as something to cower in front of, you brought out that lighthearted part of him he thought that he had lost.

You were his everything. No one had ever meant more to him than you. It’s what Steve feared the most. Someone had become more important to Bucky than Steve. Steve could never replace you. And Bucky knew he wouldn’t die for Steve anymore. He needed to come home to you.

He whispers out your name as he stares up at you. Your chest heaving with exertion as you squeak out his name. “James,” tears start to roll down your cheeks, and he begins to sit up, ready to check on you, but you push him back down to the bed. “You stay there. I love you.”

“I love, Shy.”

“We love you.”

“I love Alpine, too,” you shake your head as the tears start to roll faster. “Shy?”

“Your baby loves you,” you gulp as both his hands press up against your stomach, and you nod your head. “I just found out this morning.”

“Shy, baby, we’re having a baby?” You can’t even speak, just smile, nodding your head. “That’s why Alpine was protecting your belly. She’s such a good girl. Just like you. Shy, you’re making me a daddy?”

“I’m trying to make you come,” your little giggle is stifled by your tears. Overwhelmed with emotions didn’t even describe it.

“Will the baby feel me?” If he wasn’t so serious, this wouldn’t be as cute. “Can our baby feel me inside you?”

“No! Bubba, people have sex when pregnant all the time. Shh, feel my breath. Breathe with me,” you bring his hands up to your chest, and move over him like it was your job. Smiling because he was going to make the best father that there ever was. He was going to be so protective, but oh so soft and loving.

Your breathing picks up, and Bucky’s does right along with you. Holding what you said to him seriously. Both of you breathe each other in as identical futures run through your minds. Beautiful lives that were birthed from two broken souls. Two souls that found each other, and were never going to be without each other again.

Your hands start trembling on his chest as your belly heats up. Pleasure courses through your veins as you get closer and closer to release. “There ya go, Shy. I’m almost there, baby. Let go. Let go for me.”

“James,” you whine, biting on your lip as your walls flutter around him. He grits his teeth as he gets closer to the edge. “James!” Your cunt clenches down tight around him, holding him in a death grip, and you sigh as his seed spurts deep inside of you. Turning your mouth up into a dopey smile as you look at him.

“God, you’re amazing, Shy.”

“And you’re a daddy, Bucky.”

You groan as the bedroom lights up and Bucky’s phone buzzes on the bedside table. Even your fluffy fur ball growls when you reach over Bucky to grab it. Rolling your eyes when you see Steve’s name, “What do you want?”

“I thought I called Bucky’s phone?” You sit up in the bed, getting a disgruntled meow from Alpine as she moves to the foot of the bed. “Is it — is it not?”

“It is, this is his fiancé, who is this?”

“Oh, this…has he not mentioned me? I’m — I don’t know what I am to Steve other than trapped in this bedroom, and he’s out there where the food is, and I’m starving,” Steve had found himself a whiny brat. “Do you think Bucky or you could bring me some food somehow?”

“He doesn’t work for Steve anymore,” you relax back in the bed, starting to run your fingers over Bucky’s metal one as it finds its way back your belly

“Oh, so I’m going to starve here?”

“Do you want to stay with Steve? Or are you done?”

“I said some things to him, but I…I don’t know,” Bucky wouldn’t get involved in Steve’s private affairs. That much you were sure of. If that stupid girl didn’t know if she didn’t want to be with Steve or not, you wouldn’t either. “He hurt me.”

“Would you have gotten that tattoo if he asked?”

“Yes,” absolutely no hesitation. “I sound stupid. I like him, and I like what he does to me, but I think he just wants this sick fantasy of popping my cherry, and then he’s going to be done with me.”

“No, he won’t. Steve doesn’t have to work for sex. He could pick any girl at that club to suck him off whenever he wanted to. He’s working on you. You’ve piqued his sick interests, and you’re just as sick as him. You get it?”

“Bucky acted like you were shy,” you are. More so with men. But this woman was threatening the peace you and Bucky are creating. Her and Steve were like chaos junkies.

“Is he asleep?” You could hear her rustling around with the door, and giving a little peek.

“Yes.”

“Then sneak and get food. If that man wanted to get to you, he would have. For whatever reason, he’s given you some weird form of boundaries. Get food, and figure out what you want. If you want him,” you take a deep breath as you stare at your sleeping fiancé. He didn’t want to admit the power that you had over Steve. Men could be blind to the power of a woman, especially the power radiating out from between their legs.

“If I want him, what?” Her voice is frazzled, willing to listen to whatever it is you were going to tell her. She had to have known. But maybe she didn’t understand the way that Steve was.

“If he’s giving you that space, you’re the one that owns him.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwslosi @thestralwriting @ambearsstuff @softherveauxs @kandis-mom @hoodiesandicedcoffee @awhoreformoree @nyxbellabarnes

#your mark on me #bucky barnes #bucky x shy #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character

337 notes · View notes

lilyrachelcassidy · 1 year

Text

Birthday Buzz

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

A/N: hi! loving your feedback and constructive criticism, so if you feel like sharing your opinion, feel free to do such! love ya

Summary: How birthday day can go in such a different way than initially planned.

Warnings: oh yes! language, some mild graphics (make-up lol), bitchy Pansy, and... have I mentioned language??

Word Count (bruh): 5.1k

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

No one would have convinced Y/N in the morning that what had just transpired was coming around, in such a slapdash rapidity as it had. Even so, with that clear-cut fact smacking her right across the face was it still so damn hard to believe that... that it was true.

She must be hallucinating. Or dreaming. Even the phenomenon of swines with the wings in the air would have been more feasible than... what was that exactly?

It all started with Y/N descending to the Great Hall, the walls woven with the luminant sunlight of the spring. Entering the room, humid and somewhat irksome (it was Monday, everything is irksome on Mondays, alright?), she instantly noticed a few details: McGonagall's new insipid hairstyle, the plate with her go-to breakfast already stowed in her regular sitting spot, Pansy’s huge grin tacked on her lips, and Blaise missing. The latest part surprised Y/N the most because she knew that Blaise would never skip a breakfast, and these were his usual hours of arriving; maybe he had already eaten?

Also, what’s the Pansy’s deal with smiling like a madman who overdosed on the crack?

What in the world...

“Haiya you!” Pansy scrambled to her feet, without giving Y/N a chance to query. “Guess what! Or no, you are so bullshit at guessing anyways... Slytherin is throwing a party today!”

The last part of her sentence came out in a feverish murmur, so that the Teachers’ Table wouldn’t overhear their conversation, and only loud enough for Y/N to hear. Still, her excitement was speaking volumes and Y/N wondered quickly whether Pansy really hadn’t dosed on a shot or two before the breakfast. Not that she wasn’t like that on a daily basis.

“What? It’s literally the beginning of the week.”

“But not every week does someone have a birthday!” As Pansy’s elation gently receded, was then Y/N able to finally to abscond herself at the table and munch on the already-prepared food. Upon seeing Y/N frowning, Pansy let out a shrill shriek which made a few people nearby glance crabwise at the two. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“About what?”

Another shriek followed. “Mattheo’s birthday!”

An awkward grimace popped on Y/N’s face, brows knitting together. “Well... if you haven’t noticed, we are not precisely on the friendly terms.”

Pansy made a fish-like O with her mouth, obviously about to say something appeasing, but the grunt next to Y/N interrupted. Promptly, she looked for the owner of the voice and was astonished to learn that the rest of their group was siding just next to her and Pansy, ostensibly listening to their exchange from the starters.

“Well, well... just look who has finally decided to acknowledge the rest of her friends. Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

She smirked. “No need to be so bitter, Theo. A few more years of practice and you may replace Snape in his disgruntlement.” A snort issued at the table and Y/N, complacent, grinned cheekily at Theo who only huffed. “Oh, don’t be like that, Theo, you know I love you.” Laying her head against his shoulder, she patted him at the top of his head. “There, there...”

“So... party you say,” spoke up Draco for the first time. He was chewing on his morning toast, evidently amused by the entire scene, but his eyes had a ghost of a question in them. Y/N already knew that this topic wasn’t going to slip by as easily. “Have you really forgotten about Mattheo?”

A smear of naked embarrassment splattered on Y/N’s cheeks. A part of her wanted to tell everyone to back off and just let her be, but at the same time, she knew she had blundered. It didn’t matter if they were close with Mattheo or not; they belonged to the same coterie, so it entangled some commitment. Even if that indicated associating with the bombastic entitlement of Mattheo for longer than the ideal time.

“Mhm... Yeah. You know. How was I supposed to know, really. We barely talk.” While saying so, Y/N made sure to perform the best glower she could pull off. She felt extremely petulant while doing so, but she wanted to fend for herself and not let anyone manoeuvre her into culpability.

“I told you about that, like two days ago!” Pansy had a distinct air of displeasure, as though personally offended by the occurrence. “I specifically highlighted ‘please, try to remember, it’s important’ and you said ‘fine’!”

“Well, I did not remember. And so, what? Don’t make such a big fuss about that. It’s not like he cares anyways,” Y/N said that with a nose in her breakfast plate, trying to avert the gaze from the rest, especially from Pansy who seemed to be at the brink of incredulity.

She should have remembered though. She should have.

Shit, shit, shit...

Theo grunted again. “It’s not the end of the world, Pansy, we only have to find a way to... make Y/N appear like she’s not an ignorant brat who forgot about her friend's birthday.” A beat. Theo peeked at Y/N goadingly, but she was already shooting daggers at him; that made him smirk. “She can pin her name on the present we got with Blaise.”

“Thank you, that’s really sweet,” said Y/N, making a U-turn and smiling gratefully at her friend. Gosh, she didn’t know what she would have done without this insolent arse. In order to take the limelight off herself, Y/N continued: “Why did you decide to organize the party so last-minute, anyways?”

“We didn’t know till now if we would be able to smuggle the booze,” said Draco through the half-full mouth.

“And how ar--”

“Don’t ask,” interjected Pansy with the look that explicitly indicated that Y/N wouldn’t like to know that piece of information. “Blaise is fixing everything.”

In response, Y/N merely nodded.

“So here is a deal,” Pansy continued after a beat. She lowered her timbre as if revealing a top-secret gossip to a bunch of nine-year-olds. “When Mattheo comes down, we are going to pretend like we don’t remember about his birthday. He is going to be sulking all day long and stuff-”

“Highly doubt th-”

“However.” If the looks could kill, Theo would be surely laying prostrate, French-kissing the floor. “At around...” She looked at her wristwatch. “8-ish, Y/N will ask Mattheo if he could help her out, at the same time hauling him to the Common Room. And that’s when all of us will jump out and hold a fucking “Surprise” banner right in front of his pretty face. Clear much?”

Y/N exhaled, with one nagging thought in her head. Why was she always the one to be arranged in such a setting with Mattheo? Her friends were acutely aware of the enmity between the two, yet they always impelled them to work together, both if it came to the school projects or even the group hangouts when everyone – beside her and Mattheo, obviously – would suddenly mingle out of the gathering last-minute.

As if sensing the ongoing dissension in Y/N’s head, Pansy critically eyed Y/N and furrowed, precisely addressing her concerns: “Something to add, Y/N?”

“No, I love the plan,” she replied quickly, after a moment of contemplation. “It’s that I’m not sure about the latest bit. I—I don’t know if he will accede, you know, with helping me out. We aren’t that friendly, so it may seem a tad suspicious that all of the sudden I’m asking him for a favour.”

No one said anything for a couple of seconds, but everyone seemed to be having the same hardwired thought as they threw each other the same bemused look, chewing the silence away. The tension of the message, so palpable it was, that it made Y/N snap out of the anticipation; she turned to Pansy, catching the waft of her strong double expresso, and then ogled each of her friends with an expectant eye.

“What?” Her tone seemed brusque, even to herself. “Why are you all acting so... meek? Is there something I don’t know about?” And then, the thought dawned at her: “Has Mattheo said something about me?”

Another round of chary looks followed, but before anyone was able to lodge a definite answer to the barrage of Y/N’s questions, the voice from behind echoed:

“Morning, everyone.”

Y/N whirled so abruptly, it almost cost her a whiplash, but when she saw the way Mattheo suited himself today, it most definitely caused her that whiplash. He was clad in a button-up shirt, the last couple of buttons undone and exposing the cleavage; his hair of the usual dark-brown curl was tumbling in its usual haphazard style and accentuating his prominent cheekbones; most definitely, the vague scar across his face did not make Y/N anyhow randy. Anyhow!

What struck Y/N the most, however, was the halo above his head – sunlight seeping through the Great Hall’s windows and highlighting Mattheo’s figure. The image was so angelic, so lofty, it suddenly caused the dryness in her throat. She thought she must be melting under those caramel-brown eyes like a humongous puddle of sweat and adoration.

No, she most definitely did not develop a crush on her frenemy, that couldn’t be right.

Y/N suddenly realized that she might be gawking, so she promptly returned to her previous position, all her aptitude to eat and breathe gone. Sidewise, she also noticed Pansy grinning knowingly at her, and when Y/N gave her an evil eye, she merely shrugged in a manner of “you know what I mean.”

Mattheo, instead of occupying his usual spot at the table, squeezed in between Y/N and some Slytherin second-year. Y/N had a vague impression that he was awaiting his friends to suddenly burst singing “Happy Birthday” or bestow him with wishes, because his lips were pressed in a thin line, and he was silently scooping the porridge from the ornamental bowl.

“So, what’s new, Mattheo?” asked Theo which felt so widely inappropriate that Y/N suddenly had an urge to boot him.

From this proximity, Y/N could perceive the brief flash of hurt across Mattheo’s features, but that was only for milliseconds. He plastered a sham smile on his face, and only tipped off with a short: “Not much.”

“We were actually talking,” started Pansy, carefully. “That Y/N needed some tutoring in Potions.” This time, Y/N seriously contemplated booting someone. Namely, Pansy. “Maybe you could help her, Mattheo? You are good at Potions, right?”

Dismissing Pansy’s last question, Mattheo finally eyed Y/N who was maxing out the redness of her face. She gave him a bashful smile. “Really? I thought you were good at Potions.”

The blankness overcame her. Y/N, clearly at whom the question was directed, tried to contrive a blatant lie but failing more and more as the seconds elapsed. Panic-stricken, she looked at Pansy who was witnessing the entire fall with a pained expression.

Shit.

“I-- I have a problem with this n-new topic. Something connected with Pepperup Potion,” she finally spluttered out, after what felt like forever. Once more, she glanced at Pansy who gave her the thumbs-up (that crone!), but she made the point of averting Mattheo’s gaze. “But sure, if you don’t want t--”

“No problem,” he broke off Y/N’s exhausted ramble. “Around 6-ish then?”

“Actually,” said Pansy. “Me and Y/N are headed to the Hogsmeade at that time. Girly things, you know. Maybe you can meet up, afterward, like 7-ish?”

“Mhm, yeah, why not. As long as it’s okay with Y/N.” He shortly looked at her but she, mortified, merely responded with a nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then!” Pansy exclaimed a coda with a sort of exuberance which, apparently, nobody else shared. And Y/N couldn’t help but think how interesting her one-to-one with Mattheo is going to be.

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXXOXO

Precisely two minutes before the appointed time, Y/N was at the foot of the library, taking in deep breaths.

She didn’t know why she felt so overwrought. She thought she must be overreacting. It’s not like her and Mattheo hadn’t been alone with each other before.

Rather, the opposite – they had been. Plenty of times.

The worst part was, or the funniest -- Y/N wasn’t sure in which terms she should regard that case – she constantly kept recollecting the same printed image of Mattheo from the morning. In his unbuttoned shirt, with that tousled hair which really gave him a look of a lead vocalist from the “Weird Sisters.” And the weirdest bit was that Y/N found that immensely attractive.

Maybe there was something wrong with her? Maybe it was her hormones butting in, her pre-period thirst for what’s been chucked by the universe? And again, why would the universe be afflicting her?

Deciding that she would probably not find any answers to those unabating thoughts, Y/N thought that there was no longer point of dangling in front of the entrance like some kind of mule. She pushed the door, treaded through a couple of book sections before finally localizing Mattheo with his usual cavalier aura. He was scribbling something rather intently on the piece of parchment in front of him, so much was he absorbed that he didn’t even flinch when Y/N strode over to the table.

She cleared her throat, announcing her presence. “Hey.”

He ultimately quirked up, and gosh was he so unbelievingly charming. Even after a day of meandering in the same clothes, he still made an impression of impeccable, and when his eyes met Y/N’s irresolute gaze, he smiled at her softly. Something flittered in Y/N’s stomach, and she only hoped that it was that sketchily-looking croissant that she had eaten.

“Hey,” he spoke in a stoic manner, simultaneously gesturing at the chair next to him. “Take a seat.”

And so she did; from that distance she could smell the scent of his cologne – cedarwood mixed with an enticing trace of bourbon. Damn him.

“Huh, so shall we start?” he asked as Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his face. “Or will you just keep staring?”

At once, Y/N tore her gaze away from his face, a blush blotching her cheeks; she felt positively mortified, warmth venturing from the chest to the nape of her neck. Well, it will take her some time to recover from that... “Yeah,” she laughed out, breathlessly. “Sorry.”

He merely shook his head, then plucked the course book from his satchel, and dragged it between the two of them. Without further ado, he commenced explaining the topic to her (“Pepperup Potion is quite a facile topic” Yeah, no shit, Flamel) in his calming voice, tracing his finger over the ingredients and elucidating their cruciality in finalization of the potion.

And while he was explaining all of that, composed and unbothered as if it were his daily lark, Y/N was on the other side of the spectrum – never had her body undergone something like that: her brain muddled, thoughts garbled, heart doing cartwheels whenever she looked up at Mattheo. She even noticed those little things about him, like the way his fingers smoothly flipped the pages, the way he pursed his lips whenever he was deeply immersed in his thoughts, or even that he had this sweet, little habit of raking his fingers through his hair.

Y/N, at the same time, absolutely detested herself for having those thoughts – superficial, distractive, unnecessary, delusory, egregious, and...

She was staring again and, from the peripheries of his vision, Mattheo had noted that because he was eyeing her again in the matter of seconds, clearly saying something but Y/N couldn’t string those words together. Only after a couple of seconds did she parse what he had asked.

“Yes, I’m fine...” she answered, swallowing the pit in her throat. Then, she inspected her watch – 7.47 -- and decided that it was a high time for them to bestir. “I’m just feeling... tired. Maybe we should get going, you know.”

Mattheo eyed her for a few more jiffs before finally nodding. Y/N had a dim impression that something in terms of acrimony flashed across his face for a split moment, but that was quickly gone, and he was already shoving his belongings into the satchel.

Once they were out in the corridor, Y/N started: “Thank you for your help, you know. That means a lot.” She thought it a good idea to pass over her gratitude by touching his shoulder but boy was she wrong. The reaction was immediate: Mattheo stiffened under her touch and, like a scalded cat, took a stride backward; his breath hitched and even in a dull lighting as it was, she could discern how his pupils dilated; he raked his hand over his hair like he had done before.

Y/N froze, halting just as he had. Not sure what else to do, because she hadn’t done anything wrong really, she simply waited how this debacle was going to progress; she could have anticipated many things -- him throwing cusses at her, him laughing the entire situation off, even him casting curses at her. What she hadn’t expected, however, was Mattheo suddenly rushing in a different direction than the Common Room and leaving her lingering in the spot, not able to process rapidity of the shebang.

Maybe she should have felt contrite at the moment, maybe she should have given up, and simply informed her friends that the plan clearly hadn’t worked out, and that Mattheo was a prick, leaving her hanging like some kind of scum in the middle of the corridor. But she would be lying to herself then and poorly attempting to talk herself into believing that she didn’t care.

Yet she did, that’s why Y/N suddenly felt like the blood was curdling within her. Without administering that the words were spewing out of her mouth, she was already shouting after him:

“What’s your problem?” Mattheo stopped in his track, not turning around nor snorting at her, but simply standing still. He was waiting for her to continue. “Every time we are supposed to hang out with each other, every time I try to initiate the conversation with you, every time I smile and you ignore me, every time... I try so hard to be nice to you, try to act... civil, at least in front of our friends. But you always bring me down.” She didn’t even fathom how she had come up to him, but here she was – standing in front of Mattheo Riddle and cannoning the grudges that she had been keeping for years at him. It felt so... emancipating. “Even that one time when I cooked the brownies for Christmas, especially for you, and later you gave them away to Blaise. You know how humiliated I felt? That I spent time doing something for you, and you... so carelessly dismissed that? And, and... by the way, how much of the psychopath do you have to be as not to like brownies, on Merlin’s Beard!”

Her voice sounded so reedy in her ears, but she knew that she was just poorly trying to outshout the quiver in her voice or the prickling tears in her eyes. When a tear tumbled down her cheek, not wanting to unveil any accompanying emotions, she angrily wiped it away with a sleeve. Her gaze travelled downwards because she felt more waterworks coming about.

“I realize that you might hate me bu-”

“I don’t,” interjected Mattheo. For the first time, he shifted in his spot and when Y/N scrutinized his countenance, his lines had a note of desperation in them, earnestness that clearly stressed the truthfulness of his words. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t have to lie, Mattheo, I-”

“I don’t hate you,” he retaliated, sounding stern. And angry, in a way? Y/N must have misheard.

“Listen, Mattheo, I appreciate you trying to patch things up, but there’s no poin-”

But her sentence spiralled into the distant corners of the corridor, and Y/N piped down as Mattheo took a step closer, curtailing the distance between the two. Y/N cast her face downwards under Mattheo’s intense stare, but his hand travelled to her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. His thumb swiped over her cheek where the tear stain was, and it seemed like he was contemplating her dejection with a sour expression. For a moment, Y/N could swear that the air in her lungs disappeared altogether, and she just kept waiting for his next move, her eyes turned into the deer-in-the-headlights expression.

With the intent look, he bent over her, Y/N’s nostrils catching the scent of his cologne yet again, and he was leaning over to her ear. One of his hands moved over to her arm, clutching it lightly as if she was the most exquisite dainty porcelain set, and his mouth was just centimetres away from her earlobe. Y/N’s body went entirely rigid.

“I. Don’t. Hate. You,” he spelled out every syllable of his sentence, gravely, gutturally, slowly.

Something clicked in Y/N. No longer was she standing there spellbound, but maybe because of his intoxicating scent, maybe because of the intensity with which he had uttered his words, she was tugging him by his collar with both of her hands. She normally, a brief thought crossed her mind, wouldn’t have enough nerve to do something like that, but she kissed him -- her desperate, parched mouth travelled onto his.

For a moment, she asked herself if maybe she might be out of her mind for doing that or if Mattheo felt the same way she had this morning, or if he had ever considered her as more then... well, whatever they were. She soon found out the answer, however, because his lips momentarily detached themselves from her skin, and he was scanning her face with dilated pupils.

Instantly, Y/N pulled away and put her hands on the level with her head in the defensive mode like a child who had been caught red-handed while sneaking out the chocolate bars. The air was sucked out of her.

“I’m so, so sor-”

“It’s not the way I envisaged that...” His voice sounded positively berserk, feral even. Her hands pending mid-air, Mattheo drew them back to their previous place. In the middle of that maelstrom, Mattheo capitalized Y/N’s confusion by placing his hands on her lower back, flipped her so that now her body was positioned against the wall, moulded against him.

“And how have you envisaged that, exactly?” she muttered, her voice barely audible. She blinked a couple of times, disorientated, observing as a smirk curved on Mattheo’s lips.

“Let me show you how...”

His lips smashed against hers, and Y/N was happy to note that her feelings were requited after all. At first it started off gentle, but that quickly morphed into this voracious battle for dominance. They were devouring into each other's taste (Mattheo’s peppermint toothpaste), and he slid his tongue over her bottom lip, silently soliciting her for deepening the kiss.

She permitted, of course she did, parting her lips ever so widely, deliberating that if she ever were to die, that’s probably the only way she would have accepted the Grim Reaper in her warm, hospitable embrace. Much to her surprise, Mattheo took her by both of her wrists, pinned them above her head while his other hand was caressing the skin underneath her shirt.

His kisses were so fierce and zealous, Y/N couldn’t help it but feel the sudden yearning to be as close to him as possible; she draped one of her legs around his lower waist, aligning his body with hers as if they were the unity. It felt like they belonged together the whole life, just like yin and yang, and it was so ludicrous that they hadn’t realized that before.

His tongue flicked over her lips a couple more times, making the want pool around her abdomen, before he finally dipped lower and lower, reaching her neck and planting the sloppy kisses on it. It was as if though he couldn’t get enough of her taste, so ardent in his actions he was, and when he finally discovered the weak spot on her neck, he started sucking on it ever so roughly. Not quite able to quell it, she let out a small moan which apparently must have worked marvels on Mattheo because Y/N could suddenly sense the bulge of erection ramming against her thigh.

She was torn. From one side, she wanted to do this so badly, the knot in her lower parts specifically betrayed that, but she knew that it would be so wrong and thorny if they elevated that to another level.

Yet, it was so hard to focus with Mattheo’s lips leeched to her neck, signaturing her skin in the most conspicuous way.

“Don’t... you think... that we sho...uld talk this over... first?” Y/N rasped out with an evident difficulty.

“What’s there to talk about?” he muttered in between the kisses, his hand still circling on Y/N’s belly and dangerously nearing to her bra. “I’ve wanted this since forever. And clearly, so did you.”

Y/N released an amused, hoarse chuckle but that silenced her only for a few seconds before she finally deciphered his words. Particularly, the one resonated in her mind: forever. A paroxysm of joy sprung up in her.

“So, you felt like that for a long time?”

Mattheo, apparently cognizing that Y/N wasn’t going to relinquish the topic easily, halted. He withdrew both of his hands, instead placing them on each side of the wall where Y/N was residing. His chest was still moving rapidly, hair rumpled, and pupils almost entirely replacing the irises of his eyes. As Y/N examined him briefly, she thought she must be out of her mind for ceasing their make-out in the first place.

Too late for reversion, anyways.

After a few inhales, he finally started: “Well, haven’t you noticed? This entire time, that I-” With a small gloss of hesitation, he looked her in the eyes, assiduously. “I have been crazy about you. For so long. I don’t even remember how it feels to be sane, because whenever I’m around you I just... want to grab you and kiss you senseless.”

Y/N balked. Things got another notch inexplicable, and Y/N wasn’t sure anymore if she was dreaming and perhaps was stuck in a different universe where cats were the heads of the Ministry, Pansy was Gryffindor, and Mattheo was besotted with her. That would be more possible, from all Y/N could think of.

“Really?” A blush suffused her cheeks. “I thought you hated me! All those signs – always avoiding me, never talking to me... This didn’t necessarily appear to me as... what you just said.”

“Listen.” His palm covered hers and he squeezed it lightly a couple of times. “All of that was just a game. I didn’t want to weird you out nor did I know if you reciprocated my feelings. That’s why I tried to... avoid you, if you will.” He stopped for a moment, just staring Y/N, enchanted, as if there was nothing else in the world, both of them captured in slow-motion where nothing else around them mattered. The silence between them was only raptured by their quick breathing and the hammering in their chests. “In truth, the way you... move and talk, it’s all driving me mad. Fuck! I want to be with you, be able to kiss you whenever I desire, want to touch you and be there for you whenever you feel down... Y/N, I want to do so many things with you, and you don’t even know that. But how could you, right?”

As if pained, he closed his eyes with a microscopic grimace and he licked his lips, as if reminiscing the tastes of her on his skin. With guilt flaring up, Y/N cupped his cheek in her palm and stroked over it again and again. He seemed to be enjoying that as he leaned into her touch, his frayed nerves somewhat tranquilized.

“You know, I like you too,” Y/N said, and before Mattheo was able to protest as he opened his mouth with the clear intention of doing so, Y/N proceeded: “I really do! It was just that... I was trying to tell myself otherwise because I wasn’t sure of how you would react. And when you waltzed into the Great Hall today, looking like that, I realized that... I’ve been lying to myself. And- and are you mad?”

He furrowed. “Mad? What for?”

“For screaming at you earlier.” Y/N pursed her lips.

Gently smiling, he smooched her lips shortly, and Y/N fleetingly missed the heat of his body on hers. “No, I was a dick.” Another smooch. “Although, I would specifically like to highlight that I didn’t give these cookies away to Blaise. He stole them.”

With poorly faked disapprobation, she shook her head but soon enough, a grin adorned her features. “That shithead.”

Mattheo chuckled and he was about to kiss Y/N again when...

“There you two are, I was looking all over for you two and--” Pansy prowled from around the corner, clearly with annoyance painted on her face but when she discerned the view right in front of her, with Y/N positioned against Mattheo, she smirked. “Well, well... Y/N, I told you to sneak him into the Common Room, not to woo him.” Y/N palm-faced herself but Pansy, not taking on the social hints, continued: “But have it your way, I guess...”

“Pansy, I think we would like to be left alone for now and if you could-”

“No,” Pansy interposed, folding her arms together. “It’s your birthday party, Mattheo! It was supposed to be a surprise, but someone...” She leered at Y/N with a pointed look. “...clearly can’t control themselves and restrain her animalistic instincts, irrespective of the plan that her other friends set up.”

“In her defence--”

“And I’m not going to be a shitty friend who forgets about her best friend’s birthday! So, collect yourself a little and schedule bumping uglies on a different time.” With that, the pitter-patter of her stilettos faded away, while both Mattheo and Y/N stood stunned in their spot.

“That’s not how I planned it,” Y/N explained quickly. “Especially the “bumping uglies” part.”

Mattheo chuckled with hilarity sparkling in his eyes. “I know.”

“And I’m sorry about your birthday, we were supposed to act like we have forgo-”

“Doesn’t matter.” Mattheo smiled finally at her, covering her mouth with his. “It’s still the best birthday I have ever had.”

#Mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #Benjamin Wadsworth #Benjamin Wadsworth x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #Hogwarts #Harry Potter #pansy Parkinson #Theodore Nott #Draco Malfoy #blaise zabini #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle fanfiction #hp #one-shot harry potter

893 notes · View notes

hendersister · 10 months

Text

our house

summary: when you and steve move in together, your house becomes a regular hangout spot for dustin and his friends.

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

title 🎵: our house by madness

You and Steve have started living together. You’re renting a house in Hawkins, not far from your mom and Dustin. You and Steve stayed in town because you wanted to clean up the mess that Vecna made after opening the gates. You both want to be here to help defeat Vecna and close off the gate to the Upside Down once and for all.

The house you're renting is pretty nice. It has 3 bedrooms, including a master bedroom with a private bathroom for you and Steve. You were able to rent the house very cheap because so many people had fled Hawkins after Vecna opened the gate.

Since moving in, Dustin and his friends have started coming over almost on a daily basis. Your house, along with the Wheelers’ basement, has become one of the official hangouts for the party. You and Steve don’t mind. Besides stopping Vecna, another reason you remained in Hawkins was so you could stay close to your friends and family - especially your little brother. You and Steve actually kind of like providing a safe space for the kids to hangout.

Sometimes the kids crash for the night in one of the spare rooms or on the couch. Tonight happens to be one of those nights… Dustin, Erica and Lucas are all staying over. The three kids ended up at your place for different reasons.

Dustin came over because your mom is working the overnight shift and you didn’t want your little brother to spend the night home alone. He’s at your house so often that he basically has his own room already.

Erica showed up unannounced. She got into a stupid fight with her mom and needed some space to cool off. Erica told her parents that she was spending the night at her friend Tina’s but she went over to your house because Tina doesn’t have Duck Hunt.

Lucas asked if he could crash at your place because he was staying late at the hospital to visit Max again and he didn’t want his parents to know. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair are trying to get Lucas to stop visiting Max all the time. They want him to move on from what happened but he can’t. Lucas loves Max and he will visit her in the hospital every day until she wakes up. So to avoid getting into an argument, Lucas lied to his parents. He told them he was spending the night at Dustin’s. Luckily his parents didn’t question it.

Truth be told, Lucas actually prefers spending time with his friends after visiting Max. You guys know what really happened to her and what’s going on in Hawkins. Lucas loves his parents but sometimes they just don’t understand.

It was a pretty lowkey, quiet night in the Henderson/Harrington household. Erica set the table while you got dinner ready. You made a casserole. The recipe was given to you by Mrs. Wheeler. After dinner, Steve and Dustin cleaned the dishes. You read a book on the couch and Erica played Duck Hunt until Lucas arrived from the hospital. Then you all hung out in the living room and watched a movie that Steve brought home from the video store.

Now it’s getting late. Dustin went to sleep in his room, Erica took the other guest room and Lucas is crashing on the couch. You and Steve are in your room, getting ready for bed.

“Good call getting The Goonies for movie night! I think the kids really loved it,” you smile.

“They better have loved it! It was the last copy at the store. I had to lie to like five different customers that asked about it,” Steve tells you.

“Are you serious?!” you laugh.

Steve nods. You look at your boyfriend with heart eyes.

“That’s actually kinda sweet,” you say softly.

Steve smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?”

You nod your head, about to reply back, when-

BOOM

Suddenly the entire house starts to violently shake. Earthquakes have been more frequent in Hawkins since Vecna opened the gate, but they are still something that you’re not used to. This is one of the bigger earthquakes you’ve experienced. The force is so strong that you fall to the ground.

“Y/N!”

Steve stumbles to get to you. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up to your feet. You stay by his side, clutching onto each other for support.

And then, just as abruptly as it started, the earthquake stops. You and Steve stay silent for a beat, bracing yourselves for any aftershock. The room remains still.

“Is it over?” you ask, uneasy.

“I think so,” Steve cautiously replies under his breath.

You and Steve let go of each other. A million thoughts are racing through your head, but the most important-

“We need to check on the kids,” you say with a quiet urgency in your voice.

“Yeah,” your boyfriend nods in agreement. You both feel like concerned parents right now.

You and Steve leave your room to find Erica standing by her doorway.

“So you all felt that too? I’m not crazy!” Erica exclaims.

Steve sighs, shaking his head. You quickly look Erica up and down to make sure she isn’t injured.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’m fine,” Erica tells you, “But we should probably go check on Lucas downstairs.”

You and your boyfriend exchange eye contact, silently communicating. You already know what the other is thinking. He’ll go downstairs with Erica to make sure Lucas is ok while you check up on your little brother.

“Let’s go,” Steve nods to Erica.

Steve and Erica head towards the stairs and you continue down the hall to Dustin’s room.

KNOCK, KNOCK

“Hey Dusty! Are you alright?”

You wait a beat. No response. You take a deep breath and try again.

KNOCK, KNOCK

“Dustin!”

Still no response. Now you’re worried. You attempt to open the door but it’s stuck.

“Shit!” you curse to yourself.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

“C’mon Dustin! Open the door! Dustin?!”

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

You’re frantically knocking at your brother’s door when Steve comes back upstairs. He can tell something is wrong and rushes over to you.

“Y/N! What’s going on?” your boyfriend asks.

“Dustin isn’t responding,” you anxiously reply.

Steve tries opening the door but it won’t budge.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

“Hey Henderson! C’mon man, open up!”

No response. Steve shrugs.

“All right, that’s it! I’m gonna kick the door open,” he tells you.

Steve takes a deep breath, mentally readying himself to kick down the door, when-

CREAK

The door opens a crack and Dustin squeezes his way out.

“Dustin! Are you okay?!”

You pull your little brother into a big hug.

“You scared the shit out of me, dork!”

Steve lets out a sigh of relief. He stands back to let you have a moment with your brother.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I’m okay. I couldn’t get out because the bureau fell over and is blocking the door,” Dustin explains. He was able to move the bureau over enough to get out of the room but it’s too heavy for him to lift by himself.

“Do you need help moving it out of the way?” Steve offers.

Dustin nods.

Your boyfriend and brother squeeze through the door to get back into Dustin’s room. Together, they lift up the bureau and move it back to where it was before the earthquake hit. After they’re done pushing the bureau out of the way, Steve pats Dustin on the head. He’s just relieved that the kid is alright.

#stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

809 notes · View notes

deathmetalunicorn1 · 10 months

Note

Charybdis Reader

Adam has just defeated Zeus and he stands panting but alive. The first to notice something off is Brunhilde. Adam has far fewer injuries than he should actually have, almost as though someone took them upon themselves for him. Then the gauntlets crack. Charybdis appears, completely free from the curse that Zeus forced her to bear and is smiling wider than anyone would think possible for a child dying. “Thank you Papa, I don’t feel hungry anymore.” Her final words said she passes on

The reactions of the crowd, Adam, and especially the Valkyries who didn’t even know Volundr could be used like that

Especially the reactions of the gods when they learn just who that child was (Shive, Odin, Thor, and all the others but definitely the Greeks)

This is going to start off like the original one when Charybdis is partnered with Adam (because I’m kind of lazy).

-When the valkyries first found you, a small child just asking for some food, they instantly melted and took you in, assuring Scylla, who brought you to them, that they would keep you safe.

-Brunnhilde and Randgriz were furious to find out who you two were. They all knew of your ‘crime’ which they couldn’t even call a crime at this point, as you were just a child, desperate for food, and for your theft, you were cast into the ocean, trapped by Zeus.

-Scylla was the one who helped rescue you, after she took pity on you, seeing you as the thing you were, a child, trapped in the same strait she roamed after the jealous Circe transformed her into the beast she was today.

-You didn’t see her as a beast, you saw her as a friend, and the maiden who saved you, taking you to safety as she couldn’t bear to see a child in such a state.

-You had been adopted by the valkyries, becoming their youngest sister, the one they all doted on, treated you with such love and kindness and you never had to go hungry again, always making sure you had been fed.

-Your voracious appetite, which stemmed from not getting much food growing up, as your parents had both abandoned you in the sea, leaving you to perish or survive on your own, had calmed once you started to get food on a regular basis.

-You were a shy child, afraid of the gods, as they had done nothing but treat you so cruelly, never going anywhere without one of your big sisters by your side, and even then you hid behind their legs if someone approached, be it human or god.

-Hercules was distraught when he saw you with Thrud, giving you a bright smile and saying hello, as kids normally loved him, and you immediately burst into tears, apologizing loudly as you cried.

-The two tried to calm you down as you cried, Hercules confused as he had never met you before, and he froze, learning your name from Thrud, seeing that the one who had stolen his cattle during his labors, was a child, desperate for food.

-He had not known that you had been a child, the guilt eating away at him as his heart broke, as he knew that Zeus trapped you at the bottom of the sea where you had to create a whirlpool, just to try to get some food.

-He put his large hand on your head, ruffling your hair gently before he smiled softly, “It’s okay, I’m not mad. I forgive you.” You sniffled, shocked that he forgave you, and he quickly became your big brother shortly afterwards, as he wanted to make amends with you.

-The valkyries were not bothered by you bonding with Hercules, happy to see that you two were getting along, seeing that you were growing in confidence.

-When Ragnarok was announced, Brunnhilde gathered the valkyries, telling them all that they were going to help humanity by forming bonds with the human champions, to create a Holy Weapon, one that can kill the gods.

-Brunnhilde kneeled before you, after teaching you Völundr as well, and spoke, “Y/N, I will not force a child to fight, but I will ask if you want to fight against the gods.”

-The other valkyries expressed their concern over you fighting, you were strong, but you were still only a child, but you were being given the choice to fight against the gods who threw you away so cruelly so long ago.

-You swallowed, a little afraid before you asked, “Which god would I be fighting?” her smile surprised you, but also confused you just for a moment, before she answered, “Who else, the one who punished a child desperate for food, Zeus.”

-Your jaw and the jaws of the other valkyries dropped, hearing that she wanted you to fight against Zeus, to fight alongside the human warrior that she would choose to fight Zeus.

-You swallowed, a bit afraid, before you gave a tiny nod, not wanting revenge, but wanting to stop the cruel gods from hurting anyone else.

-When Adam met you, he was surprised to see a young child peeking out from behind Brunnhilde, and he instantly kneeled, smiling gently at you, “Hello little one, are you my partner?”

-You gave him a shy nod, taking his offered hand, holding onto it as he looked up at Brunnhilde who bowed her head to him, “This little one is older than she looks, just like the other valkyries. I am entrusting Charybdis to you, Adam.”

-He nodded, smiling down at you before he kneeled again, swearing that he was going to keep you safe before he opened his arms, hugging you to him and you fused with him.

-Adam walked out with a pair of matching apple red gauntlets, munching on an apple as he was introduced.

-The fight was, for the most part, one sided, Adam easily handling Zeus, punching him hard across the field with ease.

-Zeus then transformed again, morphing into his Adamas form, Adam froze, seeing memories flashing across his mind, memories that were not his own.

-Adam had to focus on dodging blows, landing his own, seeing the memories of a child, being abandoned by her parents, a child who stole a cow because she was so desperate for food and then was cast down to the bottom of the sea, forced to form a whirlpool, just to get some food.

-Adam clenched his teeth together, speaking to you, “Are these your memories?” he saw you floating beside him, hugging him around his neck, like you were scared, nodding into his shoulder.

-He punched Zeus across the field again, showing his strength as Adam put his anger into it as you faded, “Who did this to you?” your memories flashed across his mind, showing him that the one who punished you, a mere child, for trying to eat and trapping you at the bottom of the sea, was none other than Zeus.

-An almost evil aura surrounded Adam, his heart rate increasing as all he could see was red.

-As a father himself, he couldn’t even begin to imagine hurting one of his children like this, he couldn’t understand how anyone could hurt a child like this!!

-He felt you hug him again and you spoke, “Put the gauntlets together to fuse them!” he listened to you, putting his arms together and the gauntlets started to glow brightly, reforming into a different form, a re-Völundr.

-Only one of his arms was heavier as the new weapon was revealed, what looked to be a reverse drill, to describe it simply, with razors at the bottom.

-He squeezed, turning on the weapon and it began to suck in air, creating a vacuum, the razors turning like a chainsaw.

-Many gawked at the gruesome weapon, even Brunnhilde who then calmed, remembering that this is what you looked like when you were trapped at the bottom of the sea.

-Zeus was met with another harsh punch with Adam’s free hand before he tried to grab Zeus with the new weapon, to finish the job, but only managed to grab his left arm, tearing it to shreds.

-The gods were gawking, seeing the strongest of the gods being torn to shreds by a human with such a violent weapon, but it quickly sobered them up, seeing that the humans were going to fight and that they weren’t going to give up.

-When Zeus lost and was beginning to fade away, you and Adam split, and Adam kneeled next to you, hugging you as Zeus looked at you in confusion, “Who is that? That’s not a valkyrie.”

-Adam put a hand on your head, soothing you, “You probably won’t recognize her, but this is Charybdis.”

-Zeus’ eyes went wide, seeing that the one he punished so long ago or stealing a cow during Hercules’ labor, was only a child, a young child, a hungry, abandoned by her parents child.

-Adam panted softly as Zeus slowly faded away, having beaten the strongest in Valhalla, much to the shock of everyone in attendance.

-The arena was so silent, as the shock was so great nobody could utter a sound louder than breathing, eyes wide, unable to look away from what they had just witnessed.

-As Zeus faded, so did the gauntlets, breaking into pieces, much to the shock of others. Brunnhilde gasped sharply, not even realizing it until that moment, that Adam was not as injured as he should have been.

-She saw the gauntlets chipping away, slowly fading as she and the other Valkyries realized what you had done, you used your body- the gauntlets, to take the more severe damage, protecting Adam.

-They had no idea that Volundr could be used like that, not even Buddha, who was watching with wide eyes, a feeling of dread building up inside of him as he realized that this technique was causing the death of child.

-Zeus vanished first and everyone was stunned when the gauntlets on Adam’s hands started to glow brightly and the shock grew when a child appeared before him, slowly fading away as well.

-Adam was quick to realize what you had done, taking the damage to keep him safe, but it was your smile, warm and bright, like you were truly happy, that stunned him, making his throat tighten, feeling tears welling in his eyes.

-You cupped his cheeks as the crowds were quickly alight with shouting, seeing a child, and many learned who you were, Poseidon’s daughter and the fearsome beast that Zeus trapped at the bottom of the ocean as punishment for stealing a cow.

-Hades had wide eyes, turning on his brother, “What is the meaning of this Poseidon? Why is your child fighting?!” Poseidon was just as stunned, he had honestly forgotten about you, after he deemed you weak, and after learning of your punishment, he believed you deserved it. To see you so strong and yet still so young now made his heart break- he felt anguish that he had abandoned you.

-The other Greek gods weren’t much better, Hercules was fuming, glaring harshly that you had sacrificed yourself, as he knew your desire to protect others, and he knew there was nothing that could be done as he held Goll who was sobbing in his arms while Brunnhilde was on her knees, her face buried in her hands as well.

-Ares didn’t care- tears in his eyes as he shouted at Poseidon, demanding to know why your father didn’t protect you. Hermes himself was furious, trying in vain to hold Ares back, equally as mad while Aphrodite had actually stood in rage, watching you disappearing slowly, furious that Poseidon had treated you so cruelly.

-Shiva was stunned stiff, he couldn’t even react, seeing that Adam’s partner was a child, Poseidon’s child, and how cruelly him and Zeus had treated you- you were just a little girl desperate for food after being abandoned! He didn’t even know he was silently crying, tears streaming down his cheeks, not hearing the sobs of his wives who couldn’t begin to even think about treating one of their kids so cruelly.

-Odin was furious, silently staring, he was a harsh person, but to children, Odin was very gentle, and to hear of another father treating their child so cruelly, he felt sick.

-Loki was nearby, strangely silent as he was biting his bottom lip, trying to hide that he was crying himself, at least halting his sobs, but not his tears.

-You cupped Adam’s cheeks gently as he wept quickly, trying not to sob, just letting the tears flow, your smile was gentle as you spoke, “I’m okay Papa, it doesn’t hurt- and I’m not hungry anymore!”

-Your words made throats clench as he cupped your cheeks in return, smooshing your cheeks gently, making you squeak which made him smile gently, not wanting you to go but there was nothing he could do to change it. The least he could do was send you off with a smile.

-He swallowed hard, as his throat felt tight, like he couldn’t even talk before he inhaled deeply, “I’m proud of you- so proud of you.”

-Your eyes lit up, happy tears coming to your own eyes, “Really?” he chuckled softly at your elation, giving you a small nod, “I am- I couldn’t be any prouder to have a daughter like you.”

-You smiled brightly, your tears finally falling as you closed your eyes, “Bye Papa- I love you!” he embraced you, feeling you crumbling away until his arms were soon wrapped around nothing.

-Adam didn’t blame Brunnhilde, as you chose to fight, and you were able to get your own revenge, at the cost of your life and keeping him safe, and others didn’t blame the Valkyrie, as this could have been prevented if Zeus, and especially Poseidon, hadn’t been so cruel.

-Your loss lit a fire under humanity, the other warriors furious, wanting to fight and survive for you, so your sacrifice wasn’t in vain. Many gods started to argue, wanting to call of the tournament and punish those who had done such terrible things, like Poseidon.

-Hercules immediately defected to humanity, declaring his intention to fight for humanity, as did Buddha, who was planning on surprising everyone later, but decided to do it now, to make more gods side with humanity in the hopes of halting everything.

-Hercules and Adam both comforted Brunnhilde, who could do nothing to halt her tears, she knew this was a risk, but she was in anguish that you chose to protect Adam and give your life for him.

-A child should never have to make a decision like that.

-It was with their support and encouragement that Brunnhilde stood strong once again, the tournament now halted as the gods were furious and wanting to call everything off as Odin called an emergency meeting with him, Shiva, and Hades to discuss the future of Ragnarok.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror hades #ror loki #ror buddha #ror heracles #ror adam #ror brunhilde #ror zeus

443 notes · View notes

lakesbian · 1 year

Text

if you think about it. it's really funny in a fucked up tragic way that aisha told taylor brian went to go live in a cabin. like she really lost everything. she really lost everything and just hit the Fuck It point in life. like sure, i'll tell taylor that, fuck it. she really looked taylor straight in the eye and straightfacedly went "Yes. My brother, Brian, is still alive. He went to live on a nice farm upstate. He has lots of fresh grass to run around in. They feed him every day. He has all the punching bags he could ever punch for when he's feeling angsty and emotionally repressed. He gets to fill out taxes and apply for mortgages on a regular basis as enrichment. They let him listen to his Linkin Park CDs as loud as he wants. He even has his sad rebound girlfriend with him. He's free and happy on the farm upstate." it's like taylor's pet hamster got ran over by a car but nobody wanted to tell taylor because if she found out she would go stand in front of a moving car herself except instead of a hamster it's brian. and instead of a moving car it's jesus. and taylor BOUGHT it. she BOUGHT it. she really thought her hamster didn't get squished. she thinks her hamster is off playing board games in a fucking cabin. taylor really sees aisha going [clenches fist] i hope this fucking sucks for scion. because of when my bro... (stops bc she realizes taylor is right there and doesn't know jesus threw the sun at brian) and taylor's still like. Ah yes, when he got Bonesawed :) I'm sure you're not bringing him up in response to seeing jesus for any particular reason! He's happy and free upstate :). it's SO fucking...😭 taylor brian and aisha man. Man.

#scarf don't look #parahumans #ham don't look

671 notes · View notes

sundrop-writes · 4 months

Text

Missing You

Gar Logan x Fem!Reader x Jason Todd

Summary:

Gar misses his two best friends. When he calls the two of you, he certainly doesn’t expect to find you in such a… compromising situation.

Gar Logan x Fem!Reader x Jason Todd. Accidental Voyeurism. Smut. Canon Divergent AU of Season 2.

Word Count: 2,800

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: there is a lot of Gar/Jason (emotionally and sexually), dubious consent - Gar listens to the reader and Jason having sex without their consent (but they don’t mind when they do find out), invasion of privacy (but again, they don’t mind it), would this be considered eavesdropping?, accidental voyeurism (and then on purpose voyeurism), Gar masturbates while listening to Jason and the reader have sex over a FaceTime call but Jason and the reader don’t know Gar is listening, Gar feels slightly guilty about being horny in this situation, lots of dirty talk, Jason is more dominant, reader is definitely submissive, Gar is (slightly?) submissive (though he is not ‘involved’ for most of the sex act), the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina (though she is not really the ‘center’ of this fic), Jason has a filthy mouth, p in v sex (between Jason and reader) - actually protected sex this time (which is a surprise for my fics) (it’s my headcanon that Jason is a big proponent for condoms/safe sex), degradation kink (towards the reader), terms used to describe the reader: slutty/slut, cocksleeve, hole, fucktoy/toy, cumdump, good girl; slightly possessive Jason (but it’s clear that he doesn’t mind sharing with Gar), spanking (very light, no severe pain kink) - mention of clit spanking, mention of orgasm restriction, mentions of sexting/sending nudes. I believe that’s everything.

A/N: This is a repost. Again, to complete my Titans Masterlist on this blog. I did some tweaking to it, but it is still mostly the same. So if you have read it before, I hope you enjoy it. And if it’s your first time reading it, I hope you like it again.

...

The concept of butt-dailing was something that still mystified Gar.

He understood why it was a thing in the 2000s, sure. A time when people’s phones still had tactile buttons on them, when you could sit on your phone in your back pocket and start pressing things by accident. But these days? Why was the term even still used?

How can you call someone by accident? How can you have an entire phone conversation with someone by mistake?

On that day, it hadn’t been Jason that called him - no, Gar was the one calling Jason.

Gar hated to admit it, but he was fucking lonely. He had a soft heart and if he went too long without talking to his friends, without hearing their laughter, then he wilted like an unwatered plant. It wasn’t something that he ever said aloud, but it was something that was very easy to tell for the people who were closest to him.

So Jason had taken to calling him on a regular basis. And ironically, because of it, the two had actually grown a lot closer in the Robin’s absence.

Their friendship bloomed because of the long, late-night phone calls where Jason’s tired voice mumbled things to Gar as he fell asleep, admitting things about his past and the pain he sometimes felt that he never would have told anyone else. And they often spent hours on Discord calls as they kicked ass together playing COD or some other stupid game like Mount Your Friends. Even though on that day the Tower was practically empty, Gar found himself missing Jason the most.

Ever since you had gone to Gotham to visit Jason, Gar’s other closest friend abandoning him, Gar had practically gone mad with loneliness. Rachel was off on a ‘girls trip’ with Donna, Dawn, and Kory, and Dick was attending some kind of ‘League’ business. Hank was leading a ‘be a better you’ sobriety seminar in another city, and Gar still found himself feeling like an outsider when hanging out with Rose and Jericho.

So where did that leave him?

Alone in his room, sprawled out on his bed.

He had thumbed over Jason’s contact in his phone several times before he actually decided to put in his earbuds and give the guy a call. Surely his best friend wouldn’t consider him needy after the three hour long timestamps on their other calls. If Jason was busy, Gar could simply find something else to entertain himself. He could probably best his Resident Evil speedruns. Again.

But selfishly, he was hoping Jason would pick up and talk to him for a while. Maybe you would be lounging around with Jason and he would get to talk to the both of you. That would be really nice.

When the FaceTime call was answered on the other end, the screen was dark. Gar thought for a moment that Jason was just busy - that he was pressing his phone to his chest until he could get into another room to take the call. But for a few moments, all he heard was deep breathing, some grunting. The sound of Jason training?

He was definitely inside Jason’s pocket.

See, Jason hadn’t even noticed the incoming call. He had his phone on silent, and he had answered it completely by mistake. Turns out, the rapid, rhythmic thrusting of his hips had somehow successfully pressed the ‘answer’ button, even with the phone shoved deep in his back pocket.

And Jason wasn’t really in a position to have a friendly, ‘let’s chat about COD’ video chat with his best friend.

He was balls-deep inside of you. With his thick, hard cock out through the zipper of his pants with his phone still inside of his back pocket. He was thrusting into you where you were face down on his bed, on your knees exactly how he wanted you.

It was a huge part of the reason you had come to visit him. The two of you had been fooling around for as long as you had known each other, and you couldn’t seem to go for very long without fucking the other person. It brought you both relief from your stressful vigilante lifestyle, and it was the best sex either of you ever had. Not that any of your friends knew that you had a ‘thing’ going on, of course.

Gar was about to hang up the call, believing that he had caught Jason at a bad time and realizing that the guy didn’t even know his phone was on. But he froze completely still when he heard it.

“Fuck, babe, take my cock.” Jason groaned, his voice absolutely thick with sex. “Fucking take it.”

It was something that instantly made Gar tremble, made blood rush to his cock as he heard his friend’s voice in a way that he never had before. The sound was rough in his headphones, distant and not nearly as pure as it would have been in person. But it made Gar’s blood run hot in seconds, made him so turned on so quickly that he became dizzy.

Gar’s hand itched to reach down and grip his cock through his pants, but he knew that he shouldn’t. He knew it was wrong. He should just hang up the call and hope that Jason never saw it in his call history. The longer he stayed there and listened, the more suspicious the timestamp would look in the call history if Jason ever saw it.

But Gar was frozen in his tracks when he heard something that absolutely made his head spin.

“Yes!” It was your voice. “Fuck, I fucking love your cock. I’m just a slutty little cocksleeve for you, Jay!”

High pitched and needy, moaning out - it was you. You, screaming those entirely pornographic words, followed by a deep grunt from Jason.

Gar let out a sharp breath. It hadn’t occurred to him who Jason might be fucking. Or that he was fucking someone at all, and that he wasn’t just alone, fucking his own hand.

Gar almost couldn’t believe that this was happening. The two people that he had been attracted to for so long now, playing out an epic sex fantasy for his own ears. He knew that it was so horribly wrong, but he probably wouldn’t have hung up the call if someone had pointed a gun to his head.

“Yeah, you are.” Jason replied, his voice slightly obscured from the phone being in his pocket. “You’re my perfect slut. Such a good fucktoy, aren’t you, Y/N?”

Jason saying your name with such a deep, possessive need, paired with the way he spoke so confidentially - it forced Gar to imagine how long the two of you had been in a relationship like this. How long the two of you had been playing around behind everyone’s backs to know each other’s kinks so well without crossing any boundaries. Even with his brain so lust-clouded, his thoughts flashed through all of the times you and Jason had snuck off together, or made lame excuses to go to bed early when Jason had still been living at the Tower.

Gar was upset that he hadn’t found out about this sooner. His brain conjured up a fantasy of him sneaking into Jason’s room late at night, and seeing you on your knees for his best friend. He easily imagined Jason inviting him to stay, telling Gar what a slut you were, how much you would love to have two guys at once. Him and Jason passing you around, your wetness making both of their cocks shine. If you were the ‘fucktoy’ that he claimed you to be, it probably wouldn’t be that far from reality.

There was a wet, slapping sound - Jason fucking into you harder as you moaned and struggled for breath.

Gar’s cock pulsed with need.

Something in the back of his brain screamed that it was wrong and that he needed to hang up, but his cock screamed louder. So he untied the string of his pants with haste and racked them down over his aching balls. Just to be safe, he muted his end of the call so that Jason wouldn’t hear any noises he made.

(If he had been thinking a bit clearer, he would have realized that any noise he made, especially echoing into Jason’s back pocket, would have simply gotten lost in the haze of sweat and sex that the two of you were making in Jason’s bedroom. But - better safe than sorry, right?)

In his mind, muting the call seemed even more reasonable when he let out a deep moan the second he took his hard dick into his hand. More beautiful sounds from you and Jason came in through his headphones as he began to jerk himself off.

“Fucking love how you take my cock, fucking love how this slutty pussy gets so wet for me.”

Jason’s dirty mouth continued as Gar’s hand started a steady rhythm. Gar was already leaking precum that easily slicked him up - he was absolutely dizzy at the sound of Jason’s sex-graveled voice.

“Just a fucking hole for me to cum in.” Jason growled. “You love it, don’t you? You love being my fucking toy. My fucking cumdump.”

The pure filth coming out of Jason’s mouth surprised Gar, just as much as his own reaction did. The way his dick jumped in his hand and his lungs released a moan, his tip leaking even more precum at the words. He had no fucking idea that you and Jason were so dirty, that you liked being… degraded so much. Because clearly you loved it, with the wailing moan that you echoed back in response.

“I love it!” You told Jason, your tone desperate and breathy, worn with sex. “I love being your cumdump. I’m just a hole for you to use!”

Gar tried to imagine what the two of you might look like in that moment. Were you on your back, your legs spread wide for Jason? Were you completely naked with your tits swaying with his every thrust? Were you on your hands and knees, ass out like a bitch in heat for Jason?

Gar pumped his cock faster at the thought, his precum making it sound absolutely slick, unrestrained grunts coming from his parted lips as he continued to listen you and Jason fuck. He would feel guilty for this later, but right now, he was absolutely dizzy with lust and needed to hear more.

“You gonna cum on my cock, slut?” Jason’s voice was sharp, demanding.

It sounded like Jason was holding back the urge to cum himself and he needed you to get there first. There was a sharp sound - skin hitting skin, higher in pitch and less muffled than the constant pounding of Jason into your cunt. Jason had spanked you. Gar’s orgasm swelled in his belly as he imagined Jason’s hand coming down against your skin, making the fat of your ass bounce or - fuck, Jason’s hand blooming against your wet clit. (Gar hated that he would never know which it actually was.)

“Be a good girl. Cum for me.” Jason demanded, throat strangling his voice as he drowned in his own arousal.

And just like that, you dissolved into a fury of sounds. Gar caught you chanting ‘I’m a hole! I’m a hole! I’m a hole!’ as though it was the only thing on your mind, increasing in volume as your orgasm overtook you, but it was muffled after a moment and Gar heard Jason grunt the words ‘shut up’ in the most sharp, dangerous voice he had ever heard from his best friend.

Gar’s mind was immediately struck with the picture of Jason’s hand on the back of your head, shoving you into the bed to quiet your whorish moaning, and this was what sent him over the edge. His stomach curled so hard that it practically made him nauseous, his body drawing up off the bed as he pumped his cock hard and fast. He pumped himself dry as cum splashed up over his (thankfully) naked stomach and dirtied him in hot, white waves.

Gar’s body was still trembling when he heard Jason rattle out a shuddering moan, a sure sign that he was cumming too.

Gar should have rushed to end the call.

But it seemed impossible to move at this point - his bones were practically made out of jelly from the intensity of his orgasm. The hand holding the phone had dropped it against his chest, the sound still coming in clear from his earbuds. He was desperate to catch his breath, and his cum still warm against his stomach when he heard it.

There was a shifting, a rustling sound - fuck, Jason was taking his phone out of his pocket.

Gar panicked.

But his orgasm had been so spectacular that it had knocked all the sense out of him, including his usually good reflexes, so he was slow to pick his phone back up. When he did, his heart jumped in his chest when he found Jason staring at him, wearing a wide smirk.

In the time it had taken Gar to recover, Jason had taken his phone out - with the original purpose to check the time. Alfred always had a very specific time for dinner, and always became cranky if anyone was late. Jason certainly didn’t need anyone to come looking for you and him, seeing the compromising position that you found yourselves in.

Jason was surprised when he found the call with Gar going. And once he had checked the timestamp on the still ongoing call, he immediately knew what had happened.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jason said, his voice slightly rough from the sex, but entirely confident, unshaken.

“Uh - I - I -” Gar stuttered.

When Jason saw his lips moving and didn’t hear any sound, he quickly spoke up.

“Unmute the call, dickhead.” Jason told him, giving a small chuckle with the offensive, affectionate nickname.

Right. Gar had muted it to participate in his perverted voyeurism.

As Gar reached up to find the button, he realized his hand was still covered in cum.

Jason licked his lips as he saw substance smeared all over Gar’s palm and saw his friend reaching for tissues off to the side. As Gar raced to clean off his hand, you appeared behind Jason’s shoulder in the frame of the call. You were wearing a bra, your skin slightly slicked with sweat and tear tracks coming off the side of your eyes - clearly from pleasure and not from pain.

“You had Gar on a FaceTime call?” Your tone was a breathy giggle, clearly not at all upset at the idea that your friend had been listening in on you being fucked and called degrading names. “Kinky. Did you call him while you were putting the condom on?”

Gar unmuted the call with his now clean(er) hand, but waited in silence for you and Jason to finish your conversation. He was surprised that you didn’t seem to care; that you seemed to think it was some kind of pre-planned kink that Jason had executed. Gar’s stomach twisted at the thought of it, that you and Jason had discussed inviting another person into your sex life and you were more than okay with it being Gar.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Jason told you. “Go get cleaned up for dinner.”

You simply nodded, and leaned in to give Jason a kiss - a soft, gentle sight that was entirely arousing in contrast to the rough, filthy sex that Gar knew the two of you just had. It was even more arousing when you walked out of frame and Gar heard another spank to your bare skin (clearly you weren’t wearing bottoms) - and heard you let out a delighted squeak in response.

“Look, I can explain-” Gar began his groveling, but Jason quickly cut him off.

“Quiet.” Jason said, his tone taking on a kind of authority that made Gar’s stomach jump. “Next time this happens, we get to watch you cum, or you don’t get to cum at all. Got it?”

Gar’s cock was quickly filling with blood again at Jason speaking to him this way, so boldly, making sexual demands over his body. His mouth was dry and lost for words so he simply nodded in response. He opened his mouth to attempt to speak - to apologize, to ask for clarity, to ask Jason when ‘the next time’ would be.

But now that Jason had Gar’s simple affirmation, he hung up the call.

Gar - unable to help himself - stretched an arm out and took a picture of his half hard cock and his shirtless body, still covered in his cum. He hesitated to send it, though. After a long mental debate in the shower, it came back to his phone sitting on his nightstand, and sent it to Jason with a caption that read ‘I really did enjoy the show’.

It pinged Jason’s phone when he was sitting at the dinner table with you and Bruce. And as he looked at it under the table, he choked on his peas.

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction #gar logan x reader #gar logan #garfield logan #garfield logan x reader #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jaygar x reader

209 notes · View notes