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#he's finally at peace and can truly rest for the first time
lacebird · 2 months
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i'm gonna need everyone to pls take a second and listen to this specific part of this song
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codtrashsammy · 29 days
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This is... love? (Simon Riley x Reader)
- SMUT SMUT SMUT - MDNI MDNI MDNI -
First time writing smut in a loooong time, so bare with me. Had an idea and ran with it. I hope you like it tho!
Simon Riley can fuck. But what about the first time you make love? Word Count: 2.8K
Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You
Warnings: crying during sex (not the bad kind tho, promise), explicit sex, p in v, praise (heavy heavy like on god), gentle love making <3 bc our boy can fuck, but what about other stuff too?!
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Of course, you’ve fucked. Simon has been your boyfriend for 3 years now, you’re definitely comfortable to explore that part of your relationship now.
Simon has had you bent over every piece of furniture in your flat, has had you in every bed in your house, in the shower, on the floor, a couple of times on the balcony even. He’s had you pinned to walls in sketchy bar bathrooms, he’s had you in the back of his nice looking truck, the bed of that same truck- fuckin’ everywhere. That’s all it’s been, it’s been fucking. Rough, fast- always fucking godly, of course, but it’s primal. Animalistic, and you love it- you truly do love it. But this time you want to do things different. You want to slow it down, you want to fucking relish in the man you’re lucky to call your own. You don’t want to fuck, you want to make love to him. Simon has always been… not exactly averse to your softer affections, as he’s always a very willing participant, but you sometimes notice he seems… overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite handle the raw, genuine emotion behind a soft, tender, lingering touch. His cheeks heat up, he gets this certain look in his eyes, and while he’s never been mean about it- he backs away from it. He shies away from it. 
You’ve tried talking to him about it- you’ve tried many, many times to bring it up to him. And yet the bastard always has a way to switch up the conversation, to change things around, to slip past the topic so easily- he can spin straw into gold with that mouth of his.
So, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands.
You’re laying in bed, cuddled right up to him, your leg thrown over his hips and an arm thrown over his chest while you lay on your side, your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm. Simon’s hand idly plays with the ends of your hair, his arm wrapped around you, simply holding you to him as if to make sure you don’t slip away. 
Simon is seemingly lost in thought, eyes closed and body more or less relaxed- as relaxed as Simon can be when the man is always seemingly on alert to every little sound. 
“Hey, Si,” You murmur out, your fingers idly tracing random shapes against the fabric of his shirt. He hums to let you know he’s heard you, but otherwise doesn’t really react. Fuck, you love this man. You love every inch of him, everything about him. You even love that he always leaves the toilet seat up (you swear he does it out of spite) because you know you’d miss it if he wasn’t around to keep doing it.
“Can I try something?” You ask, tone soft and relaxed, casual. Not at all portraying the thoughts in your head, your secret little ‘mastermind’ plan. 
“Tha’s quite vague, ain’t it, love?” Simon grumbles out, voice low as if to match the atmosphere of simple peace and quiet. “Hmm…” You trail off, a playful smile growing on your face- not that he’s looking to see it, “I think it’s pretty simple. Either yes or no.” You quip with a nod, moving to lean up, resting your weight on your elbows so you can look down at him with a soft, gentle smile. And of course at feeling you move, his arm moves from around your shoulders to around your waist- always touching you, never wanting you far when he’s finally home. (You don’t realize home is you- but of course he’s never quite told you that). Simon’s eyes open at your movement, too. Pretty brown eyes, half lidded in his more-or-less relaxed state as he looks up to meet your gaze, his gaze soft in the way it only ever is for you- his mask resting along the nightstand by the bed. There if he needs it- but it’s rarely needed with you around. A warm light, easily able to lighten up even the darkest depths of his mind to keep his demons at bay.
“....yes?” Simon offers after a few moments of contemplation, a curious look in his own eyes as they scan over your face- looking for a hint of what possible fuckery you could be up to at this point. Your soft smile stretches out into a soft grin as you lean down, pressing your lips to Simon's and letting your eyes flutter shut. One of your hands come up, tracing softly up his chest, up his throat, along his jaw before settling to cup his cheek.
You can feel his breath hitch the slightest bit at the soft touch, the lingering touch. This is the kind of kiss that usually overwhelms him, but maybe he’s in a good mood tonight. Your thumb softly caresses his cheek while your tongues intertwine, and you can feel the moment Simon tries to speed it up.
You pull away, eyes still closed, your lips brushing against his as you speak, “No, no,”
And you promptly place your lips back against his own, not giving him time to start spitting his bullshit about how he’s going to make you see stars if you don’t stop teasing him- because that’s not the goal here. 
You shift your body, moving to straddle Simon's hips (a feat in its own right), keeping one hand cupping his cheek while the other moves to the hem of his shirt, slowly running over the skin above the waistband of his pajama pants, before delving under the fabric and feeling the softness of his tummy, touch so soft and gentle, so loving against his body.
Simon doesn’t know what to think, his own hands seeming to hesitate before they come to rest along your thighs, squeezing the fat there a bit roughly- but that’s okay, you can teach him. 
“Love your hands, Si,” You murmur as you finally pull away from the kiss, only to trail kisses down his jawline, slow and soft, occasionally nipping at the skin.
Simon let's out a grunt, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs before moving to cup your ass, pushing your body to force your clothed cunt to grind against his already hard cock, and a breathy moan leaves your lips from the stimulation- but damn it, you’re doing this your way this time.
“I’ll stop,” You warn, voice still soft, but there's… an edge to it for once, one stating that you really will.
A soft groan leaves Simon's lips, along with a scoff at the absolute audacity of you, “Love,” Simon says, in warning more than anything. 
“I don’t wanna hear it,” You’re quick to say, before leaning back to meet his pretty, brown-eyed gaze, your hands moving to lift his shirt which he eagerly enough helps with, throwing the fabric away and down to the floor like it was the very thing that killed his family.
…a bit much, but you can understand his eagerness.
“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” You murmur out, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as you trail your hands across the familiar expanse of his chest, fingers running through his chest hair, thumbs brushing over his nipples before trailing down his sides. Your palms run over the subtle softness of his belly, where you know there is muscle hidden underneath.
A hiss leaves Simon's lips, and you can feel his cock twitch from where you’re perched in his lap. “Bloody ‘ell, love, the fuck ya doin?” Simon mutters, hands moving to grab your hips.
“Jus’ be good for me, yeah?” You murmur out, a soft, adoring smile on your face as you finally look up to meet his gaze.
The sight alone is enough to make you pause slightly. He’s not like this when you’re fucking- and you don’t even have his dick in you yet! His cheeks are flushed, not from exertion, he’s just flustered, his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched together with pretty glossy eyes. Almost like he could cry- but not quite. 
“You’re always so good for me, Si,” You murmur, grinding your hips against his own and letting out another breathy moan at the feeling, his hands tightening their grip of your hips in response. Just one look and you can tell he’s overwhelmed already- or at the very least getting there. But he hasn’t once told you to stop- he’s simply tried speeding you up, which you have no interest in. Not this time.
You grab his hands, kissing each of his knuckles before slowly dragging them underneath your own shirt, placing his palms against your breasts, his thumbs already swiping at your nipples, at the already peaked buds there. “Always takin’ such good care of me, my love,” You praise, and you reward him with another slow grind, beginning to set such a slow, but lovely pace, just enough friction to make you want more- but that’s the goal. A slow build, no rush, no desperation, just… slow. Loving. Gentle. Tender. Simon visibly gulps, his hands squeezing the flesh of your tits with a groan before he’s tugging your shirt off and adding it to the growing pile on the floor. He tries to buck his hips, tries to get your movements to speed up- but you simply lift up, ending the contact altogether, and send him a pointed look.
“Do ya not want me to fuck ya, love? What’s all this then?” Simon says with a huff, eyes narrowing slightly as they meet your own. Anyone else would say he’s frustrated- and yeah, partly he is. But you know your Simon, you can see that glossiness to his eyes, can see the slightest twitch of his brow- he’s overwhelmed- he’s not sure how to handle this, the softness, the gentleness. Simon likes to say he can’t be soft, can’t be gentle, can’t be loving. But it’s been 3 years with this man- you know he can. He just needs to be taught- it’s simply something he’s never had before, it’s not like he was born with the knowledge. “No,” You answer with a pleased, breathy sigh, resting your hips back against his own and beginning that slow grind once more, feeling his cock twitch at the action. “Don’t wanna fuck, Si. Jus’ be good for me, baby. Jus’ sit here, look pretty for me. Always so good for me. Jus’ let me love you, sweet boy,” You murmur out, eyes meeting his own and holding their gaze.
You trail your hands down his arms along his shoulders and collar bones, quite literally loving every inch of his skin.
Simon’s cheeks get hotter, the look he gives you is entirely overwhelmed, spooked even. Like the thought of being loved is absolutely horrifying alone.
“Be good? Kinda kinky, innit?” Simon mumbles out in response, looking at you with a quirked brow.
But you don’t stop. And he doesn’t stop you.
Clothes continue to fly off, positions change, but somehow you manage to remain in full control for once. And he lets you. Sure, you have to correct him at times, have to remind him to slow down, all with soft smiles and gentle praise- and he eats it up like a starving hound.
Even now, as moans and breathy praise leaves your lips, Simon being vocal, a rarity on it’s own, at least to this extent.
“Feel s’ good around me, love, fuck, so good,” He fucking babbles, his cock dragging along the walls of your drooling cunt at a slow, but steady pace. You’re underneath him now- stereotypical missionary- but it’s divine.
You pull Simon’s head down, pressing his forehead against your own, your legs wrapped loosely around his hips as his cock drags deliciously over all those sweet spots inside, the soft mound above his cock pressing against your clit with every. Single. Thrust.
It’s a slow build up, so slow, and while he focuses on clenching his fists into the sheets above your head, resting on his elbows on either side of it, you focus on touching him, praising him.
“Always so good to me, baby,” You practically purr the words.
“I love you so much, Si, so much,” You say, breathless as your back arches, forehead pressed to his and eyes closed in bliss of the slow building pleasure.
“Like you were made jus’ for me, sweet boy,” Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, one of them tangling in his hair.
“Love how you make me feel, Simon,” You moan out, legs tightening their grip around his hips.
If your eyes weren’t closed, you’d see how Simon is looking at you right now. Simon is looking at you like you’re a fucking goddess… but the vision is blurry, from the pure overwhelming, unshed tears in his eyes. God, he’s pathetic, isn’t he? Crying? During sex? But he can’t even entertain the thought- thoughtful praise continuing to spill from your lips as he continues his slow, languid, deep thrusts. 
He focuses on the feeling, on the way your words are soothing parts of him he didn’t care to recognize were broken, he focuses on the way your hands trail across his skin so fucking lovingly- as if he’s actually worth something. As if he’s someone and not a monster. As if he doesn’t have hundreds of lives taken by the very hands you praise for touching you.
No- no, none of that matters right now, as for the first time in his fucking life Simon Riley doesn’t fuck- he makes love. 
“God- g-gonna make me cum, Simon- fuck- love the way you make me cum-” You whimper out, back arching into him and fuck, Simon can’t take it anymore.
Simon doesn’t know what to think. Sure, the pleasure is mind-numbing, your pussy always feels so fucking good when it’s wrapped around his cock like this, but it’s damn near tripled by the pure feelings you’re forcing him to feel. The way his chest burns, but it’s so good- he can fucking feel the love you have for him, the way you hold him in your heart, the way you think of him as though he put the very stars in the sky for you and you alone. And he would- fuck he absolutely would. He’d give you the world should you ask for it- fuck he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.
He doesn’t speed up- he wants the slower build up, too, doesn’t want to rush it, but he’s going to shatter if more praise leaves your lips so he presses down, slotting his mouth against your own, a minor distraction really.
You can feel the wetness to his cheeks.
You know it’s not sweat.
Your hands move to cup his cheeks so softly, so lovingly, so gently. You moan into his mouth as the pleasure builds until that band finally fucking snaps, and you’re on cloud nine.
Simon buries his head in the crook of your neck, his hot, thick cum shooting ropes into you as your cunt squeezes his cock like a vice, truly milking him for all he’s worth.
You’re both panting, but Simon's head stays hidden- you know why, you can feel the tears against your neck, but you don’t say anything.
You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you come down from your high, nuzzling your cheek against the top of his head.
“Love you so much,” You whisper out, running a hand through his hair, still slightly breathless.
You can feel Simon place the softest kiss to your neck, arms squeezing you almost too tightly, but you don’t say anything. 
You know your Simon. He’s not a monster. He’s not a killing machine. He’s a man- your man. Simon’s not unlovable, he’s not broken. He’s not stupid for simply not knowing. He’s not stupid for simply needing to be taught.
And you love him. Gods, do you love him. You’ll teach him. You’ll teach him it’s okay, he’s safe here, in your arms. He’s safe to love, to cry, to breakdown, he’s safe to get the very things he’s never had- and you’ll give them willingly.
You don’t know how long you stay like that. His now soft cock still buried in your cunt, his tears have subsided awhile ago, but he’s still unwilling to move from his spot- not that you’re complaining. 
It’s so quiet you barely even hear it, but fuck, you’re so glad you did.
“Love ya,” Simon mumbles against your skin, his voice so quiet, hoarse and rough. But so very soft, so very gentle. Yeah. Simon Riley can fuck like a god. But Simon Riley is learning how to love you fully, how to make love to you fully- and he wouldn’t change a thing. Neither would you.
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mysillycomics · 5 months
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Hi everyone! This is Claire. I am writing to let you all know that we did it. We saved Bailey and Tiger Fluff, and we all live together in an apartment in Illinois, my home state. We really, really did it!!!
You can read our thanks, thoughts, and more under the read more :0)
(note: Oliver also goes by Bailey! She has two names.)
There are many important people on this journey that we would like to specifically thank.
First, all of our friends (especially Peregrine, Sophie, and Jackson) who were there on the day Bailey was evicted, who listened to me and helped me figure out what to do when I felt more lost than I’ve ever been. Without them we wouldn’t have been able to act so quickly and efficiently. Because of them, we were able to formulate a plan.
Speaking of Jackson, he and his partner Cherri need to be thanked once again. Jackson drove all the way from his home, Bailey’s motel, and back to get both her and Tiger to a place to stay while we figured out what to do next. They provided a warm, quiet, and safe place for both of them in a time when something like that was so far away. For the first time in a long time, I knew that Bailey was truly somewhere safe. For that, we will be forever grateful.
While we do not have their names, we would like to thank the staff of the airport and airline who helped make this journey objectively possible. They also made Tiger into a little celebrity on the flight, and everyone, including the pilot, went to greet her and congratulate her for being so brave. She really is the bravest little kitty we know.
Next are my very close friends Elle and Callan, who invited Bailey and Tiger to stay at their house not far from mine while we secured a place of our own. They, like Jackson and Cherri, gave both of them the space to simply be. I was able to visit a couple of times, and being with my favorite people made an extremely difficult time so much better. It made me think “this feeling is what we are fighting for”.
Finally, we’d like to thank you.
To all of you who read and shared our story, you helped us to feel seen and heard and not alone. Reading words of support in the comments, quote retweets, and tumblr tags truly made me feel like we could do this with everyone cheering us on.
To everyone who donated, your generosity this financially possible. As of writing, we received $19,381 from the GoFundMe. We are now able to use the rest of funds that have been tucked away in savings for rent, food, and bills. I cannot overstate how grateful we both are. What you did for us will never leave our hearts.
While Bailey and Fluffy were at Elle and Callan’s, we found an apartment. It was small, but perfect. We toured. We applied. And we got it.
And on December 9th, 2023, we moved in and started living together! Our goal, our dream, our driving force for so long was achieved. After three years of long distance, we finally made it.
Our home is small, and has some quirks as all homes do, but it’s ours. The love of my life, the best little cat in the word, and I are all together. We are safe, warm, happy, and loved. The future we fought so hard for us now the present. Forgive me for being long-winded. I just have so much to say about all of this! Sometimes I still can’t believe that we actually did it. But we did, we really did!!!
I’m going to keep the GoFundMe up for a little bit, but once things settle more I will close donations.
Thank you!!!!!!!!! 🧸💕
____
Hey everyone Bailey here, I cannot overstate just how grateful I am to every single one of you and how thankful I am that this journey has been able to come into fruition. It was very scary being in that motel not having a plan or knowing what I was gonna do next while everything was crumbling around me. If it wasn't for Claire and our incredibly kind and caring friends I don't know what I'd do. They helped me press on and get through this with Fluff and we finally did.
Finally we're in a place that brings nothing but peace and comfort, my anxiety has dropped and I'm doing things I've never thought possible and building up strengths I never knew I had, I feel whole in a way that I've never felt before and I'm just, happy.
I am so grateful to have Claire, for years she's been so supportive and comforting and has brought this dream we've had into reality and every day I am so thankful to have her, she is the love of my life and my best friend. The life that her, myself and Fluff now share will forever be together and we can finally begin living. 💚💜
Thank you everyone, thank you to our friends who let Fluff and I into their lives to be able to be safe while we get our bearings, thank you to everyone who said such kind and wonderfully compassionate words, cheering us on as we go, every day I was looking at the community post I made on YT and it was just filled with people being so supportive, and thank you everyone who donated and got us into where we are. We could not have done it without all of you. 🐟 ❤️ 🐟 ❤️
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pearlywritings · 10 months
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In father's embrace
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synopsis: Genshin men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.
pairings: Ayato, Thoma, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Tighnari x fem!reader (separately)
tw: fluff, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy
word count: 7.2k words
a/n: I really wanted to write Diluc and Kaeya, but realized that I can't create something new since I already have a family AU with them. Here's the materlist's link if you are interested! Also you can find the HSR version of this here!
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Ayato 
This man is a dad of twins - a boy and a girl. Both babies took more in their mom’s appearance, but have his soft violet eyes and honestly? This man adores you, his wife, so when he sees your kids develop more and more of your features as they grow - his heart can’t be fuller.
He is a fun and patient dad - he will teach them anything they ask him to, and offer guidance, yet still leaving space for them to learn some on their own. He also enjoys when they sneak into his study during his working hours (because mom decided to take a nap, and Thoma went out grocery shopping, and they are so-so boooooored), letting them wander around the room for the nth time, touching all the trophies and scrolls he has there (all the things that could be of danger were long removed), and when they eventually feel sleepy, crawl closer to him to nap, resting their heads on his thighs while he stays in his kneeling position, writing.
Even if they look a lot like you, it’s so easy to tell that they are his kids - the mischief babbling in their little bodies is untamable for the longest time, and Ayato loves it. Sure, sometimes it is a headache, and mostly for you, but at least they didn’t develop strange tastes in food like their father. More than once they used their similar looks to play pranks on the staff members or their parents, dressing in each other’s clothes and going about their day like that. What does their father think of it? Two words - “promising” and “entertaining”.
They are also their aunt’s absolute delight. Ayaka adores them, showering the two with gifts and attention. And even though she and Ayato are not twins like her niece and nephew - she still feels warmly nostalgic whenever she witnesses their interactions.
Best aunt - thanks to her Vision the twins experienced the joy of ice skating, lessons of etiquette became more fun (though still effective), more days off were granted to her brother to spend time with his family (she practically started stealing his paperwork at some point to fulfill it on her own). She and Thoma are making your life so much easier and for the first time Ayato truly feels at peace and like he is living his life at its fullest. The quiet rooms of the Kamisato Estate are finally filled with joyous laughter and summer warm happiness - his kids are bringing back the light to the gloomily strict atmosphere of the family house.
But sometimes the two only add the workload to his plate in the most wild ways possible.
Ayato closely observes one of his kids - presumably the son - as both the parent and the child are sitting in the room dedicated to the twins’ studying. They have the best tutors Inazuma could provide and both showed exceptional results in all their classes. Even if one of them failed an examination on the first try - the second one was always a success. That was until you walked in on your daughter rewriting her history test, only to discover your son in her place, with his sister’s clothes and blue locks tied in her manner. And that’s when the truth came to light.
Honestly it was no surprise their teachers never suspected anything - only four people could tell the twins apart easily - you, Ayato, Ayaka and Thoma, though the latter had trouble with that occasionally, and your children made sure to speak as similar as possible once the idea of replacing each other appeared. Of which you also learned that day Ayato and you sat them down and urged to tell you everything. The scolding about cheating from you and a lecture from Ayato on the topic of how important it is to do as good as you can on your own were provided, but in the end you just hugged them and said that you do not expect them to be perfect in everything, which left the kids relieved.
But from then on Ayato has been in charge of supervising the twins during their exam retakes. Just like today.
“Public diplomacy, national security, diplomatic etiquette, hm…” the head of the Kamisato clan skips across the paper with questions the tutor gave him beforehand on the latest topic of international relationships. He notices how his child doesn’t fidget and doesn’t even let the eyes run across the room - the straight posture and neutral expression etched on a thirteen-year old’s face is admirable. But he does note the uncharacteristic stiffness. Along with another major thing.
“Princess, where is your brother?”
Eyes widen slightly, but that’s enough to prove that he is correct. He watches his daughter hesitate for a moment, though there is no doubt in his mind that neither of his children would ever lie to him or their mother. And the defeated sigh shows as much.
“Sorry, father,” the girl lowers her gaze in apology. Fishing a hairpin from behind her brother’s kimono lapel, she makes quick work of collecting her hair. Then she looks into his eyes again.
“He is in my room, pretending to be me and probably stressing. Before you ask why we decided to switch - he begged me to.” “Oh?” Ayato puts the papers to the side and rests his chin on an open palm. “Could you please elaborate?” “Remember how we went to the Kujo residence for a playdate?” Her father hums, already getting a vague understanding of what’s going on. “And when we accidentally overheard how the oldest son was being scolded by his father for not doing enough in his studies. And brother got it into his head that if he keeps failing not once but more times, you are going to be disappointed in him. I know he studied for this retake, I helped him with that, but at the last moment he got anxious, and, well, here I am. Like all those years ago.”
“I see,” the man in front of her nods, and she doesn’t see any negative emotion painted on his face. Quite the contrary, he smiles.
“Be a dear, go get your brother and come back together. Change the clothes though. Oh, and tell him I am not mad, okay?” “Okay, father,” she mirrors his smile and relief flashes in her eyes - the girl truly cares for her twin, and that warms Ayato’s heart.
When half an hour later both arrive there is already a table served with tea and sweets, and the head of the Kamisato family immediately invites them to take their seats. His daughter looks calm, which can’t be said about his son - the boy has the most miserable look on his face, holding onto his sister’s hand and staring at the surface of the tea in his cup. Ayato decides to speak first.
“Kujo family is the last people one should take as an example,” his firm, yet reassuring tone makes his son glance at him. “Sure, they are respected, but their methods are too old-fashioned, and the way they treat their children is no good. Do you understand, little blossoms?”
They nod and even if Ayato doesn’t see it, he knows they squeeze each other’s hand.
“You better do, because neither me nor your mother will ever push you to the point of devastation. In studies as well,” the boy bites his lip. “I am serious. I will not be disappointed in either of you if you have to retake one test again and again. Striking for perfection is a good goal, but not when you torture yourself physically and emotionally to achieve it.”
“But father…” his son lifts his eyes and stares right into Ayato’s and it shoots right through his chest how vulnerable the kid looks. “You are perfect. And I don’t want to let you down…” “Me? Perfect? Oh, dear,” the man can’t hold a light laugh back. “Ask your mother and she’ll prove you so wrong, trust me. And none of you is letting me down - you should be proud of yourselves. At such young age you both show bright talents and knowledge - and it’s okay if it’s not the case for every possible field of studies. This is general education, later you’ll get more practice to catch up, or concentrate on your strongest abilities. Listen,” he addresses his son specifically, and the boy cocks his head to the side a little, “be more confident and trust your sister if she insists you are doing well. Don’t be afraid to ask questions and come to me if you feel unsure, alright?”
The boy glances down, letting the words sink in, and Ayato patiently waits. In his mind he admits that it's his oversight - he should've noticed earlier that one of his kids has been struggling. Now he will make sure to change that.
Eventually his son deeply sighs and looks at the adult in front of him with trust reflecting in those pretty eyes.
“Alright,” he nods with a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. Slowly standing up and letting go of his twin’s hand, he rounds the table and steps right into Ayato’s outstretched arms, wrapping his own around the man’s neck.
“Thank you, father,” he whispers right before burying his face into haori-clad shoulder. “I love you so much.”
And the man smiles, whispering those words back and soothingly patting his back, as the daughter shows him thumbs up with the tenderest look in her eyes.
Thoma
This man is such a sweet dad - nearly cried, when your first child, a girl, was delivered. Same was when a couple years later the son was born too.
Juggling his work and caring for his kids was never an issue for him. A big part of it was played by the Kamisato couple, who allowed him to bring first his daughter and then his son to work, when each of them was old enough. Which, most likely, was what prompted the Kamisatos to have their own kids - one day years ago you and Thoma wanted to have a date night - one you haven't had in a while - and Ayato's wife offered to watch your little baby girl. Does it need to be mentioned she wanted her own kids after that?
Thoma's kids are taught to be polite and respectful, but not overly reserved and quiet, no - in your own house the man would literally let them destroy the kitchen in attempts to bake something as an experiment and then turn cleaning it up into a fun game of three, or four, if you decide to join.
He is that kind of dad, who constantly falls asleep with both kids nestled on his chest and his arms wrapped around them, with a book of tales either lying on his stomach or abandoned on the floor. You literally mastered your technique of waking him up without stirring the kids, so you could bring the two to their rooms.
Your kids love walks, whether it’s in the city or admiring the scenery near the Kamisato Estate. When it’s in the city though, the four of you attract attention without a fail. Especially elders, who coo at the image of Thoma holding his daughter’s hand and you cradling your little boy to your chest. You are literally showered in little gifts and are offered many discounts, because everyone adores and respects your family. At some point for a short period of time a rumor was running around Inazuma City, that if you get to see all four members of the Kamisato retainer’s family, luck is going to follow you through the day. Thoma had to ensure it came to an end, wanting to keep you three safe and not being followed around in your leisure time.
To summarize it’s needless to say that this man is a natural when it comes to being a father. He already aced being a great husband, you never had any doubt that the same would be true about becoming a dad. And it brings you so much joy that your kids are aware of it.
Making your husband's lunch is an essential part of your morning routine. Sure, the Kamisato Estate provides its workers with meals and breaks, but knowing how much Thoma loves your home-cooked meals, you'll never refuse him this pleasure. 
On days like today you pack two more lunches, for your kids - yesterday they expressed their desire to go and help their dad. But you are more than aware of the plan they've had in their mind for the longest time. That's why you turn a blind eye and chop fruits particularly loudly, when you ten- and four-year olds sneak into the kitchen and hide something in the wrapper of an already packed lunch.
And when they were leaving and every member of your family gave you kisses, you couldn’t help but notice the decreased stack of small papers you have in the hall to make notes.
Maybe next time, you’ll ask your kids to join.
Thoma bringing his kids to work is always a pleasant surprise to the Estate’s staff. Even the guards by the gates can’t keep their composure, when the girl cheerfully greets them, wishing a good day, and the boy softly chirps a little “hi” and shyly waves his hand at them. Next person they always meet is Furuta - and the old lady adores their greeting ritual and is the one who looks after the fellow housekeeper’s kids when they help or play outside. But if usually the woman just makes small compliments to the children and chides Thoma for not bringing them over more, today his daughter breaks the routine - she suddenly lets go of his hand and quickly runs to her father’s colleague and asks her to speak in the corner. A bit stunned, the blonde watches the two move farther and start quietly talking. The boy in his arms curiously watches them and then, as if realizing something claps his hands.
“What is it, cookie?” But the only answer he receives is merry giggling.
The next strange thing happens, when the three of them arrive in his room - kids, looking as suspicious as possible, start making excuses to go and play first, though they usually insist on following him around unless they get bored, and as they disappear behind the door with his daughter’s bag - Master Ayato requests his visit. 
Getting out of his office only an hour later, Thoma has to rush to his duties, realizing that he’ll have to speed up if he wants to finish everything the blue-haired man has just told him to do. He even handed him a list with tasks, which never happened. What’s going on?
Not finding the children in his room, he decides to start without them, assuming they'll join him later. Okay, what’s the first thing on the list… Check all the chairs. Alright…
Luckily this piece of furniture isn’t numerous in the residence, giving the culture of Inazuma, and Thoma knows perfectly every single room where he can find them. What he wasn’t expecting to find is the folded papers on the seats of some of those. Upon unfolding each revealed a single letter. Strange… Well, at least the chairs themselves are in the required condition.
Tucking the papers in his pocket and fishing the list out of the other one, the man checks his next destination. Check all the bushes around the main building. Blinking, he looks again. No, the handwriting is definitely his master’s, but the contents? In his style, but why so sudden?
Following every single point, Thoma manages to find in total 13 papers with letters on it, before the list stops being weird and advises the housekeeper to dedicate the time before lunch to his common responsibilities. Which he, with an exhale of relief, proceeds to fulfill.
When the time for lunch rolls around, kids, as if magically, reappear at his side and innocently smile at him, asking how he spent his time. He promises to tell them over lunch.
Lunch, that brings him four more pieces of paper. And suddenly, both kids are not that interested in food.
“Make a phrase, make a phrase!” His daughter chants, holding her brother in her lap, and the little boy claps his hands, chanting ‘make! make!’. Already realizing that all of this was their meticulously crafted plan (to participate in which they managed to convince quite a few people), Thoma doesn’t oppose, putting all the papers on the table in front of him. 
S V E E T S I R H E Y B T
And A P A P which he got from his lunch.
“The” is guessed immediately. “Is” as well. When he reaches for the “A P A P” to add it to the pile, the girl suddenly lunges forward, putting her hand on top of it and shaking her head. Alright, not yet.
S V E E T R Y B is left. Okay, maybe “very” and… “best”!
Moving the pieces around in utter concentration, the man puts the words in the right order. And only then the ten-year old lifts her hand. With a baited breath he moves the four remaining pieces a little more and his heart skips a beat, and the summer-green eyes widen.
PAPA IS THE VERY BEST
“Surprise!” The girl beams with the widest smile, hugging her brother. “We wrote it together! See how some of the letters are clumsy? He did it!” She proudly looks at the boy, gently ruffling his hair. “Recently he was trying to learn how to write! You are the first one who sees it, even mom didn’t! And we chose this phrase, because- dad, are you crying?”
Warm silent tears are indeed running down his cheeks and the man nods, not trusting his voice. A whirlwind of emotions overtakes him, making it a little hard to formulate his thoughts, but he reacts immediately when his kids rush to him, opening his arms and catching them in a tight embrace. He'll tell them how touched he is, he'll praise them, he'll declare his love for them again and again. A tiny bit later. Now he just needs to hold them and hear that he, for real, "is the very best papa".
Alhaitham and Kaveh
Listen, just LISTEN - imagine these men’s pure shock when their wives surprise them over a double date at Kaveh’s house with their pregnancies. Like, AT THE SAME TIME. Kaveh is gaping at his woman, but Alhaitham is no better - a glass with wine frozen in air in the middle of his attempt to put it back on the table as his eyes are not blinking, glued to his spouse. The blonde would be the first one to break from his stupor and tightly hug his wife, kissing all over her face all laughter and little jumping in place, while his junior would finally put the glass down and beckon his woman onto his lap and bury his face in her neck with arms around her body, quietly thanking her for amazing news.
The kids are not even formed in the women’s stomachs, but they already have a story to share.
Alhaitham
Despite not giving the impression the man likes the idea of being a father to a child together with you, his beloved. Of course the pregnancy was planned, but even he couldn’t predict the possibility of you and his friend’s wife being pregnant at the same time. Though he does find it a little amusing and can’t lie to himself that watching you and your female friend discuss the nursery designs, the clothes, the gender, the two babies becoming akin to siblings warms his heart.
He always loved quiet evenings with you, but later, as your bump got more and more prominent, he finds himself craving your back pressed to his chest and his palms cradling your rounding stomach. He talks to his kid in there, reads them books and soothes, when they are restless and don’t let you sleep that well. And that’s how early on you understood who’s going to be the one putting your newborn to sleep, because your persuasions didn’t work that well.
And your husband doesn’t mind. He actually loves cradling his daughter - yes, it’s a little girl! - to his chest and lull her to sleep - it gives him an unimaginable sense of fulfillment.
As your little wonder grows older, Kaveh can’t help but comment how similar her scowl is to her father’s - combined with the annoyed sharp glare of the eyes she also got from him. But that’s only when she is being capricious. Most of the time she is calm and sporting your sweet smile, voice soft and eyes lacking the mentioned above sharpness. 
By the way, she is older than Kaveh’s kid, which makes the Scribe just a little bit smug.
Alhaitham is all too happy to be the one educating her. He makes sure to balance her time spending with him and her time spending with you, encouraging her to engage in your hobbies and have a mother-daughter time. But the most he loves the time the three of you spend together - be it as simple as grocery shopping, having a meal together or cuddling in the evening, or going on whole little expeditions, because his girl wants to explore something on the topic she is currently interested in.
Oh, and he is so biased when it comes to her. There is only one non-scholar kid in all of Sumeru who has her own personal access to the House of Daena, research laboratories, research data and the Scribe’s office at any working hour - and that’s your daughter.
“Look, that’s the Scribe’s wife!”
Taken aback, you stop in your way when at least a dozen students surround you. Raising an eyebrow you survey their faces thoughtfully, noting that they seem to be quite desperate. But even before you can open your mouth they interrupt.
“Tell him to let us in! We have applications to submit!”
“And I have questions why mine was declined!”
“I need his signature on my thesis papers!”
“He locked himself inside with your daughter and said not to disturb their nap! Unbelievable-”
“And how exactly can I help?” You cut through the cacophony of their voices. Students look at you as if you’ve just grown a second head.
“...you are his wife? You can influence him.” “First of all, demanding something from a person you barely know is simply rude,” you narrow your eyes and a chill runs down some of the spines - for a moment you looked just like your husband. “Secondly, I am not involved in his work and I don’t plan to. Now, please, step aside.”
“You can’t be so cruel!”
“Oh, and you can? Let me guess, at least half of you missed deadlines, a small portion made mistakes again and the rest are not in an urgent need to see my husband, but decided to stick with others in hopes that getting to him right now will work?”
Leaving them stunned by your easy guess, you finally push your way through, holding a box with food you brought for lunch close to your chest. Once in front of the door you don’t even have the time to raise a fist for knocking, because the door unlocks and opens, revealing the tall man behind it.
Silently and quickly you step inside and the door shuts again, the key turns in the lock and then is thrown on the nearest table. The office meets you with welcomed tranquility, and dimmed lights are a nice contrast to the blindingly white walls of the Akademiya.
“So, you heard everything? They said you were napping,” you question his guess of when to open the door to let you in. Alhaitham rolls his eyes, glaring at the hindrance you left behind the door, and then takes the box from you.
“I was, but since I lent my earpieces I could hear the commotion in the corridor,” with his free hand he takes yours and leads you further into the room. There, on the sofa, you spot your daughter - wearing her dad’s device and napping, curled under his cape.
“Oh Dendro Archon, she is so adorable,” you coo in awe. “Look how big your things are on her!”
“She demanded I take a break and sit with her,” the Scribe hums, putting the food on the table and then locking both of his arms around you in an embrace. “But the more she was reading to me while sitting at my side, the sleepier she was getting, so we decided to nap.”
You listen to him, while observing your precious girl. She seems serene and content, holding onto the gold-embroidered piece of fabric, surely containing her father’s soothing scent. The earpieces are adjusted to hold onto her head and in silence you can even catch the faintest sounds of a melody. Ah, if only you had a Kamera with you…
“Let’s get her her own earpieces and cape.”
“The cape is unnecessary, but I did consider the device. I could make her her own, especially since she’s been complaining about having hard times to concentrate while she is at the Akademiya.” “But with the cape she’d be just like you!”
“Am I alone not enough for you already?” Light turquoise eyes are hard to read, but you manage to catch a shadow of amusement.
“But matching outfits are charming! Like, remember the last time we’ve been to Kaveh’s? The whole family had matching robes!”
“Then you’ll have to dress like me too.”
“If I am to get an intricate cape and a device to block the sounds of you huffing - I don’t mind.”
Alhaitham huffs. Then stops, realizing he’s just done what you were accusing him of, and you can’t help but laugh.
“Kidding, kidding. Let’s discuss it over lunch. Can you wake her while I am setting the table?”
Your husband nods and, receiving a quick peck to his cheek, releases you from his hold, stepping closer to the sofa.
As you busy yourself with the food, you occasionally glance at the two from the corner of your eye, absolutely swooning over how gently Alhaitham takes the earpieces off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, softly murmurs her name and coaxes her from sleep with the news that mommy came and brought delicious food with her. And when two sets of identical eyes look at you tenderly, a loving smile lights up your face.
Kaveh
Can you see this man sticking his finger in Alhaitham's direction and declaring that his kid is going to be senior to his friend's? Because I can. (Too bad he was wrong).
As well as I can see this man accidentally becoming supportive not only of you but the other man's family as well - and drawing the blueprints for both nurseries is probably only the beginning (but you were the only one whose every suggestion he took without arguing).
From day one his mind is set on being the best dad for your baby, just like he is the best husband to you. He reads books, seeks advice in Bimarstan, even writes letters to his mother in hopes she'll share her experience, that could help you. Though when it comes to shopping for your yet unborn baby, you have to physically restrain him from buying every single cute plushie or onesie he sees. 
When your daughter is born though, it's getting harder, because your own desire to spoil this golden-haired angel is unmeasurable. Maybe it's because she looks so much like your husband and you are projecting your need to shower him in love and affection and give everything you possibly can, but by the end of the day you just simply love her very much.
Kaveh adores doing anything creative with his daughter. She wants a mosaic in a frame on her wall? They'll put it from the little tiles together and Kaveh would hold her in his arms so she could hang it. She wants a dollhouse? They'll spend the time drawing the draft and picking colors and materials for EVERYTHING. And then he'll be building it, while she crafts little furniture. And it doesn't matter if she did it too small or too big - papa will help her adjust it.
But even so, Kaveh doesn't expect his daughter to be some genius or follow in his steps. No, he knows he'll love her even if she stops sharing the creative approach with him. He knows better than anyone how crushing it is to have everyone's expectations to loom over you and predatory gazes watch tirelessly, anticipating the moment you fail. He gives a vow to himself, to you, to your girl, that he will be there no matter what. 
Matching. Outfits. You own so many it's almost worrisome. But your daughter loves them. There were a couple occasions when she drew her own designs for the three of you and you had it tailored, which left her absolutely ecstatic.
On that note, you believe Kaveh's (tiny) fear that she'll lose interest in creativity is going to be short-lived - especially after your visit to Fontaine to let your daughter meet her granny, which the girl spent with wide open eyes and mouth, absorbing everything around her to use it later.
Also having your daughter earned you a heavy supporter in moments when Kaveh starts to overwork. He can't resist the charm of both of his girls and is easily swayed to the nearest sofa/bed to cuddle and share lots of kisses. All his life he has been the anchor for others - now he has two people to be that for him.
Kaveh is easily spooked by sudden noises, and your eleven-year old daughter knows that. That's why she makes sure to tap her feet loud enough to hear their approach through the door of his study. Balancing a small tray with a cup of tea and your special dessert in one hand, she lifts the other to gently knock on the door.
"Come in, baby!" Reaching higher she pulls the handle.
The floor littered with crumpled papers isn't a new sight to her, just as her father's hunched back over the properly lit table. But when the door closes, the architect immediately puts the pencil down and turns around, giving her a big smile.
"Hi, sweety," he is beaming, seeing her adorable face and a growing smile, complementing those precious twinkles in her eyes.
"Hi, papa!" She chirps like a little birdie - her actual nickname - and Kaveh nearly drops his head in his palms and cries. How can he be a father to someone so tender?
"Mama said you are working and made you something! I helped," she lifts the tray, showing him what she has. "We hope you will like it."
Oh, he definitely will, he doesn't doubt it. Carefully wrapping his fingers around the edges, the man takes his late afternoon snack and brings it closer to his face, inhaling the sweet smell of the desert and a soothing aroma of the tea.
"Thank you, little birdie," he puts the tray aside and bends lower to wrap his arms around her and smooch her cheek. "You and mama are the best."
"Hehe, we know," she giggles. "You are the best too."
"Awww," Kaveh can't help but nuzzle against her cheek, gaining another giggle and a cute scrunch of her nose.
"Daaaaaaaad!"
"Sorry, sorry, baby, you are just so adorable. Just like your mama."
"But mama says I am pretty like you."
"Both can work together," he assures her, but a soft blush covers his cheeks. No matter how many years have passed, he still gets shy whenever his wife uses "pretty" to describe him.
"Okay!" She simply agrees, giving him a big hug. "Sorry, but I should be going now. Mama wants to go grocery shopping and I want to help her."
Now that she says this, Kaveh pays closer attention to her outfit - the white sundress with pink roses is definitely not something she'll wear at home.
"Alright then, let me escort you downstairs."
Standing up, he easily hoists her in his arms and lets her perch on his left one, as her arms wrap around his neck.
When they reach the hall, the girl has managed to make two braids in his hair, now twisting them around each other. Kaveh finds both her and your obsession with touching his hair amusing, but sometimes it feels nice and relaxing. And you did put him to sleep by scratching his head on multiple occasions.
You, who are standing in front of the mirror, and even witnessing just your profile, the architect is in love all over again. 
He should take you on a date later this week.
"Well, I definitely wouldn't mind that," you chuckle, turning to face him and offering your most teasing smile. Ah, he said the date part out loud, didn't he? "But right now I need to go and take care of our dinner's ingredients."
Your husband nods in understanding and puts your daughter down, dusting the skirt of her dress and making sure everything is intact. Getting a quick peck on the nose, he gives her one on the forehead and straightens up to immediately welcome you into his embrace and share a soft kiss.
“Be sure to take a break and enjoy the snack we made for you. And I mean it when I say taking a break. We all remember how you spilled your morning coffee over the blueprint and had to redraw everything again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
A wild shiver runs down Kaveh’s spine and he feverishly shakes his head. No, if there is one thing he is certain in it’s hating the repetition of this.
“You don’t have to remind me,” his heavy sigh ghosts over your skin. “And it won’t happen again.”
“I believe in you!” You cheer joyfully and it warms his heart.
“I believe in papa too!” Your daughter throws her fists in the air. “Papa can do anything!”
“Of course he can,” you gently nudge her back, ushering her to the front door. “See you soon, Kaveh. We love you.”
“I love you too.”
Waving at your leaving figures he waits until you shut the door and stick the key in the lock, before smiling to himself and returning to his study.
The tea got a little cold and the dessert’s top melted just a tiny bit, but both are still incredibly delicious. Leaning back in an armchair with a plate resting on his knee and a cup wrapped in his hands, the man feels happily at ease and two precious girls are the reason why.
Tighnari 
Frankly, I don't think Tighnari has ever given much thought to becoming a dad, let alone settling down with someone. But taking care of Collei, becoming her mentor, stepping so close to becoming a parental figure, probably played its role as well.
Biggest part, of course, was you - another pretty fennec hybrid, who, due to the same biological background, could share a lot of things with him that the man couldn't and honestly didn't want to bother explaining to others, he sure has other things to fulfill.
It took years of courting from both sides, but eventually, you two settled down together, content with each other as a partner. When the talk of kids happened, the forest ranger was hesitant - he knows he can handle a kid, he can handle ten if required thanks to his immense patience and love for teaching, but since you were different from humans, the man was aware that you could be carrying more than three babies at one time. Even if your body is built to handle it by evolution, he still didn't want to make you go through with so much. Initially. However when you looked so hopeful to have a family with your beloved, swore it's going to be just one time and then you'll keep using protection like before, he was convinced and actually quite excited.
So much nuzzling during your pregnancy. So much nuzzling when the babies are born - three beautiful boys and one girl, with the prettiest fluffy tails and ears of yours or his fur. He immediately jumped to being a father, without any complaint taking care of your kids, while you were recovering. He adores them so much, but at times hardly manages to keep an eye on all four - good thing you moved into a bigger house that is closer to the ground, because little explorers did try to escape outside on multiple occasions.
What gets Tighnari's heart burst like fireworks though? Spotting you napping with all of your babies huddled in your embrace, body practically curled around them and a tail resting on top. The first time it happened - maybe a couple of weeks after you gave birth to them - Tighnari left you alone with the kids to do an examination on the work of forest rangers in his absence, and when he returned back - he nearly collapsed from how adorable the five of you looked. Definitely joined.
From their early age he taught his kids everything about the forest so they would be prepared, and, even he won't ever admit it, it stirred something in his chest when they looked up at him with wonder and fascination in their gleaming eyes. They were also taught to be independent, but at the same time to work as a team, and they are so good at that.
The circle of four is absolutely perfect. Little hands are swift and precise, and the absolute concentration is written on the seven-year olds adorable faces. You and Tighnari even stopped your own grooming of each other’s tails to observe your kids’ routine of doing the same thing, but among themselves.
With four pillows on the floor they once again made themselves comfortable, just like every evening, equipped with different kinds of brushes and safe oils. 
You put your chin onto Tighnari's shoulder, still holding his tail in your lap, with yours resting under his palm, and make a soft sound, loud enough for him to recognize and not alert the kids. Your husband nods, purring in response and rubbing his cheek against your temple.
"They are so adorable, 'nari," you sigh, watching the four being so absorbed with their task that they don't even talk. The male couldn't agree more, lifting the corners of his mouth in a smile and then picking another brush to get busy with the tip of your tail.
"They absolutely got it from you, my dear. And did you notice how much progress they've made in the fur-caring routine?"
Tighnari doesn't see that, but you, still staring forward at your kids, clearly see how four pairs of ears prick up. How cute, someone wants the praise.
"That they did. And I don't know about you, but at the age of 7 I didn't even know that the fur has to be clean and taken care of anyhow. I guess, I never gave it much thought when my mom did it for me. Our little ones are so independent."
Four tails move a little, kids clearly delighted.
"You are right, they are," Tighnari hums, running his fingers through your now well-groomed fur, and your children hold their chins up proudly. "If only this independence didn't extend to trying to escape to the forest on their own against all of my warnings."
Inhumane eyes glare at the frozen bodies of the "explorers" in question, making them lower their gaze and pick up from where they stopped their routine. Oh, they know what they've done.
You can only sigh, fully understanding your husband's concerns, and finish tending to his tail.
Next is the balm you generously scoop onto your palm to rub into the rough texture of your fox-like pads. When you do the same for Tighnari, receiving a tender kiss to your nose, and then to each of your babies, as they walk to you one by one, still with guilty, pouty, but adorable faces, while your husband is putting away all the tools and products.
Soon your bed is occupied with all of your kids, snuggling to your sitting body and drowsily asking to sleep with you two tonight. Even the thought of making a dozen more steps to their own rooms is killing the last energy in them - the routine has an incredible side effect: they immediately become sleepy when they are done and you don't have much trouble with putting them to bed.
Especially when the bed is right here. The bed that became a large one not even a couple of months along their lives, because this has been a common occurrence.
"Mommy, daddy, can we sleep with you tonight, please?" Your daughter lifts her pleading eyes at you, being the one who managed to directly slide into your lap and into your embrace. Three boys, attached to your sides silently lift their eyes too, pouting in attempts to break your resolve. Which wasn't here in the first place.
"What'd you say, 'nari?" Chuckling, you look at your husband climbing onto the bed to join the five of you.
"Weren't we just discussing their independence? They can surely walk to their rooms. Come on, babies, back to your beds."
"Noooooooooo," their hold on you immediately becomes a death grip. "We want to stay with you!"
"Kids, I can't breathe-" you gasp from the crushing hug of at least two pairs of arms squeezing your middle.
"We want to stay, we want to stay, we want to stay!"
"That's what you should've told yourselves earlier this morning when you decided to get to the river with spinocrocodiles. That you want to stay. Home. Until I or your mother could go on a walk with you outside the village."
At his strict tone and at the reminder of them nearly losing their tails this morning to the sharp jaws of wild animals, four little foxes lower their eyes, ashamed. But they do relax their hold around you.
Tighnari sighs, rubbing his temples and contemplating when he's going to get his first gray hairs.
"Okay, I'll let you sleep with us tonight, BUT," he slightly raises his voice to emphasize, especially since the four immediately got in high spirits, "if something like this happens again - you are losing this privilege for a week. Are we clear?"
"Yes, daddy…"
"Yeah.."
"Mhm…"
"Sure, dad…"
And that's the only confirmation Tighnari needs before lifting the covers, because no matter how restless and disastrous your children can be - he has almost as hard a time as you do telling them "no".
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dahliakbs · 1 month
Text
Overprotective Batfam making sure you get home safely in their patrol route! (Part 2)
Includes: Jason Todd and Tim Drake
Part 1
Masterlist
Jason Todd
Unlike the others Jason wouldn't walk alongside you or keep to the shadows, instead when he first saw you on his route he slowed down his motorcycle and offered you a quick ride home.
But what you thought would be a quick ride home was instead turned into a wild night you'd never forget.
You could feel the wind hit your face like a bag bricks as Jason continuously revved the engine.
The goons you'd been chasing had mistakenly crossed your path on your ride home, coming out of nowhere with a bag of money strapped to the back of the vehicle and a goon stood to the left of it. Probably protecting what you assumed to be stolen money.
"Um Mr.Redhoid you can put me off here" you'd taoped his shoulder to let him know but he simply ignored your statement and handed you a bloody crowbar.
"Since your here you might as well help me" he said and as soon as you heard those words you felt your soul attempt to leave your body.
Not out of fear of course, was this vigilante really allowing you to attack someone without receiving any repercussions?
You were starting to like this.
"Get the tires" he instructed to which you gladly got in position for.
When you noticed the distance between you and the vehicle closing in you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and lowered yourself towards the the concrete of the road.
Anchoring yourself to his waist before swinging the crowbar above your head and striking the back tire of the vehicle, causing the vehicle to violently swerve off the road and crash into a nearby street light.
You could hear yourself let out a loud scream before an arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you back onto the seat of the motorcycle.
"Was that a scream of joy or fear?" He quickly came to a stop before turning to face you.
When his eyes landed in your face it was safe to say that he was quite amused. Your pupils were blown wide while your hair was shifted wildly all over you face.
You'd seemed to be in some sort of daze which lasted for the rest of the night. Not even noticing when he dropped you off to your house and left you dazed on your doorstep.
Tim Drake
Honestly he didn't mean to follow you around like that. For some reason he'd found himself getting into the habit of walking you home every evening.
Even when there was something else he was supposed to be doing he still found a way to walk you home every evening and after a while it seems like you found out about his sleep deprivation.
You weren't blind, you could see how the large eyecbags that peeked out from underneath the vigilantes mask. You noticed how he slurred his words when talking or how he'd trip over his own feet when walking beside you.
He was very good at hiding it but after while you started noticing how tired he truly was and even though you wanted to help out in some way you just knew there wasn't anything you could really do.
You tried thinking of ways to help but they'd always lead you back to square one.
You of course picked up on the strong hint of caffeine that always stuck to him like white on rice but you weren't gonna gift him coffee. That would just feed into his problem do instead you came up with a better idea.
You'd start taking short breaks on your way home.
You'd take a seat on any bench you'd see in your way home, the vigilante following closely behind you and seating himself next to you.
Then you'd try and coax him into using your shoulder as a little pillow to try to get some sleep and without much resistance he'd give in and rest his head onto your shoulder.
And even though Tim never actually fell asleep during your little breaks he'd still sit still and allow himself to relax.
At least during those few seconds of peace he could finally relax for the first time in a while.
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thisonehere · 7 months
Text
The Lin Kuei boys reacting to you falling asleep on their lap
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Fluff Headcanons
Bi-Han
Bi-Han isn't the type of man who usually shows affection. He never really understood how to show it and you were no different. So when you find yourself slowly falling asleep on his lap, He has no idea what to do.
He notices how vulnerable you are in this situation and is very gentle as a result.
For who knows how long, he just sits there frozen out of fear of disturbing your slumber. You look so peaceful, so beautiful, he doesn't want to wake you and ruin this moment.
He wonders about you, is he too cold for you, he isn't as warm as Kuai so he worries that he cannot provide as much heat as he truly wanted to give you.
He wonders more about you personally. Why were you so comfortable with him. Do... do you actually like him? Love him even.
Bi Han shakes his head. To much to think about for this night.
Finally building up courage, he scoops your sleeping body up in bridal form and carries you to bed.
He gently lays you across the bed and slowly drapes the cover over you.
Before l he leaves, he hesitates before finally deciding to lay a kiss on your forehead.
It's quick yet sweet. He immediately rushes out of the room in slight embarrassment at what he just did. But before he leaves he turns to you to look at you one last time.
"Sleep well, Y/n." He softly says, almost smiling as he leaves.
Kuai Liang
Unlike Bi-Han, Kuai has never shown any signs of struggle when expressing affection. So you being so close to him shouldn't bother him so much, but it surprises him all the same.
He is taken by surprise but far from unprepared.
He smoothly adjusts his legs, making things much more comfortable for you and getting you in a much more relaxed state.
He gradually begins to raise his body heat to the point where you can be warm.
Now, Kuai begins to hum a strange yet soothing melody and you find yourself finally nodding off.
He smiles to himself when he hears your snoring, he can't but find you strangely adorable in this state.
He just sits there some time. He fears moving might ruin the moment.
For this very small moment, all Kuai can think about is you
All the troubles that ailed him vanished as he dawned upon your face.
He can't help but think of you and him...together. He feels stupid and almost embarrassed to think these things.
His thoughts are interrupted as he notices just how much time has past. You should be in bed, not with him.
Easily picking you up, he carries you to your bed.
He takes you to your bed and softly lays you down. He spreads the cover onto you
"Good night, Y/n, my beloved." He softly murmurs under his breath as he leaves.
Tomas Vrbada
Tomas isn't used to showing affection, not to you at least. He doesn't even remember how things led up to this point, all he knew was that you were on his lap and he was terrified.
"What am I supposed to do?" He thinks to himself as he looks at you on his lap.
He doesn't want to wake you so he refuses to move, not even a single muscle. He'd hate to disturb you, you seem so at peace in this moment.
For what seems like an eternity, Tomas just awkwardly sits there as you rest in his lap.
As time passes, Tomas starts to look at you for what feels like the first time. He never noticed how breathtaking you were until now.
He knew you were beautiful but feels like the first time he actually realizes it.
Thinking like this makes him feel very weird inside so he attempts to think about other things.
He finally musters enough courage to pick you up and carry you to your bed.
He wants to think that he is just as smooth as Bi Han or Kuai would be, but he knows isn't. He's a little clumsy actually.
Finally, find a proper position to put yourself in to ensure comfort, Tomas slowly leaves the room.
But not before stealing one more glance at you.
"Sweet dreams, Y/n, I love you." He sighs to himself as he leaves.
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veganineden · 10 months
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On the Evolution of “Happily Ever After” and Why “Nothing Lasts Forever”
A reflection inspired by Good Omens 2
One of my favorite Tumblr posts on the second season of Good Omens 2 was actually not about the series at all, but our reaction to it, primarily the ending. @zehwulf wrote, “I think a lot of us—myself included—got a little too comfortable with assuming [Aziraphale and Crowley would] work on their issues right away post-Armageddon.” We did the work for them through meta, fanfiction, fanart, and building a plethora of headcanons. Who among us AO3-surfing fans didn’t read and love Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm?
In the 4 long years since season one was released, we did more than seek to understand and repair rifts between two fictional beings: we were forced to reckon with ourselves too. We faced a global pandemic, suffered traumatizing losses and isolation, and were forced to really and truly look into the face of our atrocities-ridden and capitalistic world. The mainstream rise of Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Justice work, and our participation in this work, showed us that the systems in place were built to oppress and harm most of us, and they are. 
So, what does this have to do with the evolution of “happily ever after”? 
My friend put it best in a conversation we had following the season finale, when she pointed out a shift in media focus. The “happy end” in old stories about wars and kingdoms used to be “we killed the evil old king and put a noble young king in his place and now citizens can live in peace” and we’re transitioning into a period of “we tore down the whole fucking monarchy.” 
If we look at season one, written to follow the beats of a love story, it comforted us by offering a pretty traditional happy ending pattern: you get your fancy dinner with your special someone, the romantic music plays, and you have a place to call your own. Season one’s finale provided a temporary freedom for Aziraphale and Crowley, the “breathing room,” but it didn't solve the problem that was Heaven and Hell, or the agendas belonging to those systems of oppression. 
Is it good enough to keep our heads down, pretend the bad stuff isn’t happening, and live our own personal happy endings until we die? Moral quandaries aside, if you don't die (or if you care about the generations after you), then, like Aziraphale said, it “can’t last forever.” There’s a clear unpleasant end to the “happily ever after” that’s based on ignoring our problems– it’s the destruction of our relationships, and humanity. 
Ineffable Bureaucracy can go off into the stars because they do not care about humanity. 
You know who does?
Aziraphale. 
And Aziraphale knows that Crowley cares about humanity too. (He knows because Crowley was the one who proposed sabotaging Armageddon in the first place, who only invited him to the stars when he thought all was lost, because Crowley would save humanity if he thought it was possible, and Aziraphale knows Crowley has survived losing Everything before, and he will do all in his power so that Crowley does not need to experience that again.) 
In season one and two, we see how much they care about humanity, beyond their orders, to the point The Systems begin to frown at them. Aziraphale hears Crowley’s offer to run away together in the final episode of season two, to leave Earth behind, and just like the first time that offer was made in season one, he declines. He knows choosing only “us” is not a choice either of them can live with for the rest of eternity.
I believe season 3 will provide an opportunity to “dismantle the system,” but I don’t know how it will play out. I worry that Aziraphale has put himself in the now-dead trope of the “young noble king.” (I wish Crowley had told him why Gabriel was dismissed from his duties.) I worry that he would martyr himself as a sole agent for change. I worry that he doesn’t actually know how to dismantle anything by himself: because you can’t. He needs Crowley. He DOES. He needs Crowley, and Muriel, and other angels and demons and humans without fixed mindsets to help him. Only by learning to listen and making room at the table for all can they (and we) move past personal satisfaction to collective liberation. 
Crowley was right when he said that Aziraphale had discovered his “civic obligations.”
So, I think we will get our modern-day happy ending– and it’s going to involve a lot of pain and discomfort, communication, healing and teamwork– and in the end, it’ll all be okay. There will be a time for rest and a time for “us.” 
And most likely a cottage. 
“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”
 - Maya Angelou
Support the SAG-AFTRA strike and other unions. Trust @neil-gaiman. Register to vote if you haven’t yet. Hold yourself and others accountable with compassion. Read books. Keep doing the work. Rest. Then watch Good Omens 2 again.  
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4ngel-inc · 2 months
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⊹ ˚. 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — 𝓜𝓔𝓐𝓝𝓣 𝓣𝓞 𝓑𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤𝓡𝓢 ᡴꪫ
notes — dazai meets you and begins to feel the tight hold he has on his dominant demeanor slipping. over time, he finds all he wants to do is serve you and please you.
tags — [ MDNI / 18+ ], fem reader, dom reader, alludes to depression, loneliness, dom/sub themes, choking, male masturbation, 1.1k words.
this is the first chapter of my sub!dazai series, "self-portraits." link to full series HERE !
life hasn't always been easy for dazai, but it has been simple. when he was in the port mafia, he focused on killing and being killed. and since he's found himself working at the armed detective agency, he's focused on making a living and enjoying a relatively peaceful life. and though there's nothing about his past he misses, he does find himself feeling empty sometimes.
and he's tried, he really has. but no amount of one night stands or bottles of sake or lives he's saved can fill the emptiness inside, it's simply a proven fact at this point. sometimes, it feels like he's suffocating, drowning in untamed emotions. other times, he feels hollow inside.
most times, he just feels invisible. and after all he's been through, though he hates to admit it to himself, buries it down and swallows it like the merciful pill he's always craved, he doesn't want to be invisible, doesn't want to be empty anymore. he wants to be seen, to be known, to be loved.
when did things change? dazai doesn't think he can remember the moment he began wondering what love feels like. maybe it was a couple walking hand-in-hand at the park, passing him by on their daily walk. maybe it's been creeping up slowly, a result of the relationship gossip he hears amongst his coworkers on a daily basis.
dazai's desire to love seems to grow a little more each night, like a cobweb forming in the corner of a room, unnoticed until it collapses. often, when he takes his bandages off before bed and doesn't recognize his own reflection in the mirror anymore, he wonders, could anyone love a man who doesn't know how to love?
even if he found someone, dazai tells himself he wouldn't know what to do—he wouldn't know what to say or how to feel or what to buy "you" for valentine's day. he's slept around a lot, but he's never greeted someone in the morning, always gone long before the sun comes up. he doesn't know how to be in a relationship.
"you." there is no you, only him.
it's a little embarrassing, really, how dazai's little crush on you forms. you drink the same coffee as him—decaf, room-temperature, and extra sweet. he's endeared, to say the least, when he hears you order in front of him at his favorite coffee shop one day, and the rest is history.
maybe it's because he wants so desperately to know what love feels like, but dazai finds himself drawn to you after that first glance, and he simply can't let go—there is something so magnetic about you, something that makes him feel a little uneasy, like there's nothing beneath his feet, but you excite him far more than you intimidate him.
he asks you out only a few days later, just happening to find himself behind you in line again, and, surprisingly, his usual sweet talk doesn't quite work on you.
"seriously? that's your pickup line? you're lucky you're cute, or i might have said no." the way you smile so confidently as you put your number in his phone, the way you seem almost amused, the way your fingers lightly brush his shoulder as you walk away that day, leave dazai reeling. he wants you. he has to have you. and he knows, once you're his, he'll do anything to keep you.
but what he doesn't expect, is to really, truly, show all of himself to you.
"do you. . . think i could kiss you?" dazai doesn't recognize the hesitation in his own voice, but there's something about the dynamic between you two that has him feeling lighter, like he can finally let go for once.
he never knew his parents, and the only real friend he ever had is long gone, only leaving memories in his wake, but dazai does want to love again—and he's hoping he'll get the chance with you.
as he awaits your answer, he begins to doubt himself, eyes cast down toward the pavement, kicking small pebbles off the steps to your apartment, but when he feels your hand slip behind his neck, he realizes not all is lost.
"you can do more than kiss me," you breathe into his mouth as your lips just barely graze his, "does that sound good?" it sounds fucking amazing.
an hour later, you're still making out heavily on your couch, but dazai wants more. he's waited so long for this, for someone to make him feel something, and now that he's found you, he's feeling all too much at once.
you seem to sense his restlessness, shifting slightly to kiss his forehead softly instead of his lips. "shhh, i can hear your mind racing. just calm down for me, yeah?" the way you're running your fingers through his hair, gently scratching, does soothe him, but it isn't enough to relieve his anxiety.
"i want more," he hates the slight whine in his voice, but he simply can't resist being an utterly lovesick fool for you.
"i do, too, but why don't we take it slow, honey?" your voice drips with seduction, confusing him—if you want to take it slow, why are you acting like this? how are you holding it together so well?
"w-what can i do?" dazai palms the rock-hard bulge in his pants, resigned to the idea he won't get to fuck you just yet. "it hurts, i need-"
"get yourself off for me," you cut him off mid-sentence, and his eyes widen as you state what you want so matter-of-factly. he's never met a woman like you, someone so refined, yet so bold. "that's right, osamu, i want to see you stroke yourself for me, think you can do that, baby?"
it's a bit pathetic, dazai thinks, how quickly he's stripping down for you, kneeling at your feet and jerking himself off, kissing your thighs and your ankles, but he's never been happier—never felt more free, than he does while worshipping you.
your fingers grip his neck ever so gently,  "think you can cum for me? are you gonna be my good boy, osamu?" 
god, you really are an angel to him.
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seospicybin · 4 months
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FOLDER 103.
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sleep_well.mp4
Bangchan x reader. (S)
A chapter of Folder 103
Synopsis: Chan figures that it's his lucky day when he finds you sleeping naked. (3,6k words)
Author's note: Just something to keep you horny hehe I know you'll enjoy this one x
For Chan, every day is a lucky day with you.
With tons of work always keeping him busy, it's not easy for him to finally have time to spend with you. So tonight, as he's finally able to leave work earlier than he usually does, Chan knows that it's his lucky day.
Even though he knows there'll be no guarantee you'd still be awake when he gets to your place, he considers himself lucky still.
The two of you were still texting an hour ago but with his two last messages left unread only means that you're most likely to have fallen asleep.
Chan lets himself in, tiptoeing his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water before going to the bedroom and finding that you're indeed asleep.
"Baby, I'm home," he lowly whispers and allows himself to place a quick kiss on your head.
He then heads to the bathroom to wash up and change his clothes, then slips into the sleeping attire of a boxer and bare upper body.
He makes sure to keep quiet in everything he does, not wanting to wake you from your slumber knowing that you've just had a tiring day at work. He doesn't know for sure but that's what he feels after getting off work just now.
Somehow, all of exhaustion and weariness seem to magically disappear when he sees your face and it truly feels like he's coming home.
Chan quietly climbs onto the bed and going to slip under the cover with you when he realizes that you're naked underneath.
The two of you have talked about this and it's something you both agreed on before. Going to bed naked is a sign that you consented to engage in sexual activity, sleeping or not.
In other words: it really is Chan's lucky day.
Does this surprise him? No, because it's not the first time that you've done this but it surprises him still. Why? Because here you are, sleeping with your body bare naked and fully entrusting yourself to him in your most vulnerable state.
It's the way you trust him that makes Chan feel loved in a whole different way and that earned you a special place in his heart that no one ever comes close to.
And for that, Chan places a long, lingering kiss on your forehead until his heart bursts with how much emotion he puts into it.
Chan proceeds to go under the cover and lay next to you, carefully resting his hand on your waist. He uses the opportunity to look at your face as long as he pleases, so still and peaceful, unaware of how beautiful you look as you are lost in your dream.
"My baby," he sighs as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
"My beautiful, beautiful baby," he emphasizes every word with such love, along with a sweet peck on your lips.
He lets his hand wander as he keeps whispering sweet praises to you. His hand wades your silky skin and makes ripples in your insides.
"So soft, baby," he murmurs with his mouth pressed against the column of your neck.
"How are you so fucking soft all over, mmh?" He asks in disbelief and a sharp intake of breath.
Feeling you is not enough, he wants to see his hand on you. Chan pulls the cover away, exposing your naked body to the chill night air and raising the goosebumps on your skin. He notices and hurriedly rubs his hand down your arms.
"I'll keep you warm, mmh," he mutters with another peck on your lips.
Before he forgets, he takes his phone and starts recording, the camera follows his hand as he explores your miles and miles of soft skin.
He begins from your lips, gliding his thumb over your lower lip. He can't wrap his head around the fact that he can kiss these lips as much as he wants.
He glides his hand down to your neck and carefully wraps his hand around it, he likes how it looks like it belongs there. But that's something he can do another time.
Only using his fingertips, Chan drags them down your chest and rubs over your nipple, watching it harden as he keeps circling on it.
His eyes flick to see your face as you draw a sharp breath and your hand flies to the side of the pillow, still soundly asleep.
A part of him wants to wake you up, wanting to see how you react to his touches and oh, he just wants to hear the noises you make whenever he touches you right.
Another part of him is enjoying this too much but if he wants to continue this, he's aware that he shouldn't disturb your sleep.
He lets out a delightful sigh as he takes in the sight of your heavenly body that he never gets tired of seeing, of touching, of feeling, a body that reminds him that he is the luckiest man.
"Oh, I'm so lucky," he sighs with so much contentment.
Chan glides his hand lower to your abdomen, holding his breath as his hand inches closer to that delicate thing between your legs. Then slowly, he parts your legs open.
He instantly drools at the sight of your ripe cunt making his cock act up in its confine, aching to be inside you. He tells himself to be patient and uses his hand first to feel how tender you are.
It's amazing that even though you're sleeping, your body is fully awake and responding to his touches. He can feel that you're getting wet just from him running his fingers between your folds.
"Mmh, yeah, make it wet for me, baby," his voice drops lower than before.
Once in a while, he checks his phone to see if he gets everything in video. You know how he likes to take videos of you, especially these kinds of videos that always help him cure his longing whenever he can't see you.
After a while, he stops recording and puts his phone aside.
Chan slowly turns your body so you can comfortably lay on your back as he kneels on the bed.
This time, he replaces his hand with his lips, exploring your skin by dragging his plush lips down and around, warm and wet, hot and cold at once. He covers every inch of your skin with small kisses, from your neck down to your ankle.
He picks up his phone again, using the front camera to film himself kissing your lips, your jaw, your neck, and eventually your breasts.
Chan kisses the skin around the hardening buds before taking them into his mouth in turns. Using his tongue and teeth to play with them, then leaves them wet from his saliva.
He hits the pause button on the video as he slumps down onto the space between your legs and hits the record button again.
He films himself kissing your inner thighs and from there, going down to your sex where he traces your clit with his tongue and then kisses it.
It's a smell and a taste that is way too familiar to him and they always make him go feral, never get enough of both.
Chan curves his big arms around your thighs and dives deeper into your wetness, lapping his tongue on your slit repeatedly.
He can see that your breathing is quickening in response to his stimulation and it lets him know that he's doing the right thing.
It feels like a feast to him so Chan opens his mouth wider to take more of you, licking and sucking, enjoying himself in eating you out.
He's aware that you're stirring in your sleep but nothing he does wakes you up so he proceeds to the next thing which is his swollen cock.
But first, he has to get rid of his boxer and let his erection spring free. He then settles himself between your legs again and makes a new video.
"So hard for you, baby," he sighs as he gives his cock a few pumps before running it down your drenched cunt.
His teeth faintly bite his lower lips as he suppresses the urge to jam his cock inside you in this very second.
"Fuck, I'm so impatient to be inside you," he groans.
Using the tip of his cock, he circles your clit and then taps on it. His cock is now drenched in your essence and he expects nothing less than that.
To make sure you're ready for him, Chan inserts his finger to check and adds another finger to help stretch you out for the next thing.
"Mmh, so tight, yes..." he breathlessly gasps, making his throat dry from how thirsty he is for you.
He slowly pulls the two digits out and doesn't hesitate to shove them into his mouth so he can have a taste of you.
"Sweet as you, my angel," he murmurs.
Chan gives his cock a few more strokes before aiming right into your entrance, he checks his phone again and makes sure it's still filming.
With his hand gripping your hips to hold you still, Chan slowly pushes his length inside you. He watches his cock disappear into you little by little through his phone.
"God, fuck, oh..." all sorts of profanity and taking the divine beings in vain are spilling out of his mouth.
He had sex countless times with you but gosh, it always feels this good, every single time. The way your velvety walls welcomed him and wrapped around him, there's nothing like it.
"Oh, oh..." he hisses and groans, sometimes a mix of two as he keeps pushing the remaining length of his cock into you.
He hears you letting out a low sigh and abruptly stops moving to check on you.
"Just a little bit more, okay baby?" He mutters to you as his hand tenderly rubs your abdomen.
He doesn't know why he bothers talking to you when you're not even awake to talk back to him.
"I know you can take a little bit more," he murmurs, then pushes the rest of his length into you.
He grips at your hips again once he fully bottomed out inside you. He can't move without feeling like he's about to shoot his load at any moment.
He takes a minute to calm down, reorganizing his breathing and rubbing his hand up and down your thigh.
"How do you always feel this good, baby?" He sighs in wonder.
It arouses him so much at how still you are with his cock deep inside you and most likely, about to fill you with his cum. That thought only gets him off instead of calming him down.
After taking a few deep breaths, Chan finally dares to move. He moves his hips, thrusting into you at a slow, steady pace.
The quiet resides in the room except for the low rustles of the sheets, the sound of Chan's fervent breathing, and the suppressed grunts he keeps behind his gritted teeth.
Seeking more depth, Chan picks up your legs and wraps them around his waist. He slightly hoists the lower half of your body against him so he can thrust deeper into you.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," the profanity keeps falling out of his mouth with each thrust.
He switches between looking at your face and down at his cock slips in and out of you, arousing him even more. He grips your thighs, thrusting harder into you and going as shallow as he could.
Chan is so lost in it, losing his head and all of his senses, making him nothing but a man who's hungry for pleasure and you're the only one who can provide it.
He can feel himself so immersed in the pleasure that his phone slips out of his hand and falls onto the bed, he doesn't even care if it's still recording or not. He just wants to keep fucking you, more and more.
"Fuck, so good!" He says through his parted mouth with his head thrown to the back.
He doesn't realize that he is supposed to not wake you up and abruptly stops when he hears you lowly whimpering with your hands clutching the sides of your pillow.
He hurriedly lowers himself down and hastily kisses your lips with his upper lips coated with a sheen of sweat.
"Did I go too rough, baby?" He meekly asks with his lips only inches away from yours.
He holds your jaw and kisses you more as his apology, "I didn't mean to wake you up," he says.
He moves to the other side of your head, pressing kisses on your neck and trying to make up for waking you up.
"You just feel too good I don't know how to stop," he mutters into your ear.
He doesn't even know if you're awake but he feels the need to apologize to you. He keeps kissing you to calm himself down and when he's sure you're falling back to sleep, he slowly pulls out of you.
Carefully, he maneuvers your body and makes you lay on your side as he lies next to you. He touches you again, sending you deeper into your slumber.
However, his cock is just aching to be inside you again and he indeed wants to continue, he wants to finish, and he still wants you.
He grabs your chin and turns your head at him so he can press a kiss on your lips.
"Promise I'll be gentle this time," he tells you with yet another kiss on the skin behind your ear.
He bends your leg, giving him the access to easily slip his cock into you again. He lets out a hoarse sigh when his cock is fully buried inside you.
"Too good," he mutters with his mouth pressed against your shoulder.
"You're always too good," he mutters again.
Chan cups your ass cheek in his hand, kneading on the flesh as he starts moving, bucking his hips from behind you. He wouldn't hesitate to land a few slaps on it but that's for another time.
It doesn't take long for him to find his rhythm, thrusting into you and picking up where he left it. He pulls your leg higher as he launches his cock deeper into you.
"Oh, I like it here, baby," he says, accidentally sucking on the skin on your shoulder.
From how hard he grips the back of your thigh, Chan knows that his nails dug into the flesh and will probably leave marks on the skin.
He just can't seem to think straight when his head is filled with nothing but how good to be inside you.
Again and again, he fails to keep his composure and wakes you again. This time you're whimpering and moaning at the same time.
"Do you mind if I keep going, baby?" He asks you with his grunt getting in between the words.
You say nothing but stifle a nod in answer and crumple the sheet under your hand.
"Want to fill you," he pauses as he pushes his cock deep into you and makes you whine in response.
"Want to fill you with my love," he says again.
Your hand finds the hand holding your leg and rests it on top of his hand while your head turns to the back and Chan instantly captures your lips in a passionate kiss.
Chan takes your hand and clasps it together with his, putting it close to your heart as he keeps chasing his high with his lips latched with yours.
The room is now filled with both of your shared noises of breathless moans and the smooching sounds of your sloppy kisses.
"A little bit more," he tells you with eyes screwed shut and his mind is close to short-circuit.
"So fucking close," he grunts, planting his lips on your shoulder.
It feels like his whole body is lit on fire but instead of running away, Chan keeps walking toward that flickering, flaming burst of orange.
The next thing he knows, his head blows and he bites at your shoulder as he cums. He keeps pushing his cock into you, wanting to plant his seed deep inside you as his hand rubs your abdomen.
"Take all of me, baby," he whispers into your ear.
He repeatedly kisses your neck only to whisper again, "Take all of my love."
He places a few more kisses on your back shoulders and more sweet nothings are out of his mouth, "Just for you, baby, only for you."
The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, coming down from the high and sharing loving kisses in between. Chan lovingly puts your hair away to place sweet little kisses on your jaw, "You can go back to sleep now," he says.
With his cock stays inside, he puts his arm around you and draws you closer. He's cuddling you back to sleep, lulling you with his low breathing and soft kisses.
Not long after that, he finds you sleeping in his embrace and holding his hand close to your chest. He gives you one last kiss on the lips and lets you drift into sleep.
"Goodnight, angel."
-
The first thing you see in the morning is Chan's dark curls and you find it hard to move away when he rests his head on your chest.
You peer down to see that he's sleeping so tight that you feel bad to even think of waking him up so you let him. What's another hour of letting him rest on your chest?
However, when you put your arm around to cuddle him, your fingers nudge something on the bed. You reach for it and take it out from under the cover to see that it's Chan's phone.
You're aware of what he did to you last night, how he fucked you while you were sleeping, and muttered a few things that you can't remember clearly.
It's something you both agreed on so you don't mind feeling sore in the morning and it wouldn't surprise you if you find bruises or bite marks on you.
"You had fun last night, huh?" You mutter at his face and boop his nose.
He looks so adorable with his curls and bare face, sleeping on your chest like a toddler. You can't help but kiss him while brushing the cute duck tails on the back of his head.
"My big baby," you sigh in delight.
Shifting your focus back on his phone, you unlock it to see a video and again, you're not surprised to know that he filmed everything last night.
You check his gallery and he took plenty of videos, the first two are of him touching you and the other two are of him sucking on your breasts and giving you head.
Watching yourself get touched and stimulated without your knowing is kind of arousing, not going to lie.
With your hand still playing with his soft curls, you hit play on the video and it starts with a shot of his cock, then he wrapped his veiny hand around it.
That cock and that hand, and how they're in the right sizes, whoo... never cease to amaze you.
You skip a few minutes on the video to the part where he was thrusting into you, you can hear his low grunts through the phone speaker.
Seeing how he fucked you from something close to his point of view oddly turns you on. Then suddenly, the video turns black but you can hear rustling sounds.
You think the video has ended but you see that there are a few minutes left in the video. You jump into the last ten minutes.
"Take all of me, baby."
"Take all of my love."
"Just for you, baby, only for you."
"You can go back to sleep now, baby."
"Goodnight, angel."
Your memory is kind of blurry but yeah, you still remember him saying those things to you, even the goodnight kiss he placed on your lips and the rest after that, you can't recall.
You hear more rustles in the video and you bring it close to your ear to hear the faint sound of Chan talking to you.
"I love you, baby."
"Thank you for letting me have you the way I want."
"Thank you for trusting me."
"Oh, I love you so much."
"I don't want to be with anyone else."
"You're just perfect."
"You're perfect for me."
You hear kissing sounds in between those sentences and you bet, he does a lot more than that.
"I am the luckiest."
You hear his overwhelmed sighing at the end of that sentence and then it's dead silence. You're about to turn the video off when you hear Chan's voice again.
"I'm so lucky to have you."
Your heart aches in the best way possible to know that someone loves you that much. Despite that you both are always busy with your respective jobs which keep you away from each other, your relationship continuously flourishes and grows.
It wouldn't be possible if Chan wasn't such a good man and very loving. To say that you're lucky to have him would be an understatement.
You are the luckiest to have him.
"And I'm so lucky to have you," you murmur with a kiss on his forehead.
There's no better way to prove that than showing it with actions, you open the camera on his phone and hit the record button.
-
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covetyou · 4 months
Text
stupid cupid
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ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected P in V, a few ass slaps, sex toys (butt plug and a dp dildo), anal play, anal sex (with a dildo), double penetration, creampie, vague fluff and emerging feelings (gross), the wings stay ON. word count: 5.2k summary: Joel makes a return to your home, this time with another gift to give. Will you be his Valentine?
A/N: he's here. he's back. baubles joel, big bawl joel, the holiday king himself. and yes, yet again something that probably shouldn't be a series is becoming a loose-fit series because I just can't quit.
I guess you can all be my Valentine's if you'd like and we can smooch and hold hands and stuff, idk (I love you 💛) gorgeous V day divider by @saradika-graphics
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You didn't expect to scream the moment you entered your bedroom after a long day at work.
Of course, you had wanted to scream all day. First, when you spent the morning fighting with a piece of software that just did not want to work. Then, when you watched your colleagues trickle out of the building well before 5pm, all on their way to romantic dates, while you were stuck in your seat making up for your - and their - lost time this morning. And when you finally stumbled from the building at 8pm, only to sit in traffic for another fucking hour? You may just have let a furious squeal escape your throat as you gripped the steering wheel.
As you finally pulled into your driveway, the only things on your mind were a hot shower and takeout food.
The first part had gone without a hitch. Mostly.
Stripping off your work clothes before you'd even got to the bathroom, you hadn't noticed a single thing different about your home. As you tossed your clothes into the hamper, nothing was amiss. Stepping under the hot stream of water, you felt totally at peace for the first time that day. There was a kind of serenity to be found in your own bathroom that didn't exist anywhere else. No, nothing was unusual at all.
And then you'd loosely wrapped a towel around you, not bothering to dry yourself, and crossed the short distance across the hall to your bedroom. You weren't to know you never closed the door this morning when you left - that was 14 hours ago, afterall. Sunset had long since been and gone, so how were you to see anything, or anyone, where it shouldn't be until you sleepily flicked the light on after closing the door behind you.
So, naturally, when your brain finally registered DANGER - INTRUDER you screamed, almost dropping your towel in the process.
And that's where you still are, locked to the spot, fight or flight truly fucking off from your mind entirely, as you stare straight ahead.
There's a man on your bed. A very familiar man. His hulking figure splayed across it like some kind of fucking renaissance painting, naked as the day he was born, except for the fairy wings strapped to his back with elastic and... is that a bow and arrow? And a pacifier?
"Santa Joel?"
Joel rolls his eyes, pulling the pacifier from his mouth with a pop.
"I ain't Santa. Does this look like Santa to you?" he says, with a sweeping broad gesture down his body. He decidedly does not look like Santa. You're not sure what he looks like, and you're not sure you care when you can't help but notice he's at half mast already. Dragging your eyes from his crotch, you look at his face, somehow sweet and angelic even with his dick out.
"Okay, well... what are you?"
Looking at you in disbelief, he slaps the pacifier down onto the bed before swinging his legs over the edge to sit upright. Only, now you're not so sure it's a pacifier. It looks like a - but why was he sucking on it?
"Ain't it Valentine's Day? I'm Cupid, stupid."
"Cupid Joel?"
"Cupid Joel. It really that difficult to work out?" With a lopsided grin he picks up the bow, miming shooting you, before resting his elbows on his knees. The soft trickle of water down your body feels more and more like you're melting by the second. A practical stranger like Joel shouldn't have been able to do this to you the first time, but the fact he was here again, charming and suave, despite the nudity and criminal activity, told you all you needed to know. You were painfully and woefully attracted to him and you would do just about anything to have a night with him again.
"Well, Cupid Joel, you broke into my house. Again."
He ignores you, lounging back on your bed and spreading his knees wide, picking up the - yep, that's definitely a butt plug - again and sucking it into his mouth. Removing it with a flourish, he looks you up and down, a question in his eyes before looking to his own cock, now much harder than it was a moment ago.
"Different guy, you said that was Santa Joel." You can see him holding back a laugh, and you'd be tempted to wipe the smirk from his face if you weren't rooted to the spot. "Anyway, that guy told me he didn't see any pictures when he was here, guessed you didn't have a Valentine. Figure everyone deserves some lovin' on the big day," he says with a shrug and a quirk of his mouth. "So, here I am. Your very own Cupid, if you'll have me, 'course. Don't gotta stay, I can leave if you want me to."
You didn't want him to leave. He'd broken into your house again, and you were exhausted, but seeing him lie there, naked in your bed with the evidence of his little dress up game strewn around him, stirred things in you. If he was willing to give you some lovin' then who were you to turn that down. You're only human, after all, and it is Valentine's Day.
So, you do the only logical thing in that moment and drop your towel without another thought.
"'Atta girl," Joel chuckles patting the bed beside him. "C'mere, got you a present."
Incredible, if slightly strange, sex with a stranger, and he bought you a present? Suddenly the day isn't feeling quite as shit as it was an hour ago, and damp and naked, you approach your bed. You're close enough to him now that you can smell him again, that soft oaky smell throwing you back to the twinkling lights of Christmas Eve. You didn't know any more about him now than you did that night, really. Though, truth be told, you hadn't tried too hard to find him. You had a good time, and the soft lit fantasy of Santa Joel was something you enjoyed exactly as it was. Unveil the man, and you threatened to ruin that fantasy. But a night with Cupid Joel? That could be a new fantasy altogether.
"S'not Christmas any more, don't remember ever having to sit on Cupid's knee to get a Valentine," you murmur, sitting back on your heels as Joel's large hand slides up your thigh. You watch as it moves from your knee to your hip and back again, fingers gently teasing your sensitive inner thigh on the way down. The only hands that had touched you since Christmas were your own, though you had spent night after night imagining his all over you. You were starting to think you'd fallen asleep at the wheel and this was all some wonderful stress dream.
But then he presses a soft kiss to your knee, the scratch of his facial hair rubbing just enough to let you know this is all very, very real and you'd very much like more of it.
"Ain't gonna make you sit on my knee for it. Might want you to sit on somethin' else though."
You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Real smooth, Cupid."
And then he's smiling up at you as he leans forward to kiss your thigh, then your belly, pushing you back with one large hand until you're laying beneath him, spread bare and open as he makes his way back down to your thighs.
It's so easy to get lost in it. The soft scratch of the scruff on his chin, rough fingertips moving gently across your thighs, soft lips pressing and sucking delicately on you, catching the last specks of water from your skin with each pass of his mouth. Your eyes drift closed just as his breath ghosts across your mound, another soft kiss soon following, and another, and another.
Until, blissfully, his soft mouth connects with your clit, tongue peaking out to swipe across the sensitive bud. It had been so long since anyone had gone down on you, long before you made the move to Texas last year, you'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Stuttering for a while, you're about to feebly mumble how good it feels, but all thoughts grind to a halt when he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning before softly releasing. You had never had a man moan eating your cunt before, and now here you were, fairly certain angels were real and you'd gone to heaven, taken there by Cupid Joel and his wings.
"You always this late home, or did you have a date that went to shit?" he mumbles around your clit. It's a small sneaky way that he asks, wanting clarification on something he was almost certain of but you had yet to confirm. There were no pictures in your house, but that didn't mean there wasn't anyone in the picture.
Shaking your head, you gasp out a response. "Work - work went to shit. Ohh."
"Bad day?"
"Yeah, it - fuck, Joel."
It's then that you take your first opportunity to look down and see him between your legs. His hair looks even fluffier, his hands pushing your thighs open while his fingers pull you apart at the seams. His eyes closed, lashes fanned against his cheek, tongue softly lapping against your center, gusts of his hot breath billowing against your mound. He's beautiful.
And he's still in the fucking fairy wings.
A laugh primes itself, ready to explode out of you, but another firm lick sends you reeling, head hitting the mattress with a thud. Whatever he's doing to you, whatever this fucking day has done to you, you're going to come, and fast.
"Cu-Cupid Joel. Don't fucking stop."
Joel stops mid-lick, earning a frustrated moan from you, eyes widening from where he looks up between your thighs. "Already?" he asks in disbelief, noticing how quickly your legs and cunt have started to twitch.
"Stupid fucking cupid, don't stop, please."
His mouth finds your clit again and he's devouring you, lapping quickly against your cunt as your squirm into him, hips rocking your cunt against his tongue. Another day you'll wonder if it was his tongue or your movement that got you there, but right now all you know is the thick syrupy feeling in your veins as an orgasm quickly rockets through you, a strangled moan leaving your throat as you fist your sheets in your hands. You've muffled him, your thighs clamping around his head as he pushes further forward, tongue buried in your folds until you can't take it any more and you're desperately pulling away from him.
When you release your grip on his head, he gasps, cursing into the plushness of your thighs. Sitting up, he looks down at you, the bedroom light illuminating him from behind, making the wings glow on his back like your very own heavenly creature.
"Wanna see your present now?"
The fog in your head has barely cleared, your ears still fuzzy as you take in his words. Somehow a tongue on your pussy wasn't your Valentine's gift from Cupid?
"Wha - that wasn't it?"
"Nope."
"Is that it," you say, letting a thread of hope feed into your voice while you nod to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs.
"Not exactly, but you can have that too if you want it, darlin'."
You don't know what you expect, but Joel reaches over and picks the butt plug from where he'd discarded it on your bed earlier, and holds it out to you.
"Don't know if you're into it but," he holds the plug out to you, base first. The pink glass looks so delicate in his fingers, and it takes a twist of his hand for you to see it, but the heart shaped base of the plug soon becomes clear to you, brain foggy as it is, and you laugh, the sound bubbling out of your lips as your head tips back, laughing so hard you can feel your tits shake.
"You had that in your mouth."
Joel shrugs. "Better now than after it's been in your ass."
"Why're you so sure it's goin' into my ass?"
Got him, flashes through your mind when you watch his face drop. You don't let him suffer for long.
"I'm fucking with you. You're tellin' me you broke into my house but didn't go through my shit? I got three in the drawer over there."
"Three?!" he says in faux shock, rolling you over onto your front and grabbing at your ass cheeks. He pulls them apart, the cool glass in his hand pushing into your cheek as he tugs you open.
You shriek, swatting behind you as you laugh again. "Joel- what the fuck are you doing!?"
"Checkin' where you keep these three assholes."
"I'm lookin' at one asshole right now."
Now it's his turn to laugh, a deep rich sound that has your toes curling and your pulse sky rocketing, pulling you out of it with a gasp when he slaps a hand down on your ass only to watch it ripple with the impact.
"So, do you want it in?"
"Mhm, I have lube in the bedside table."
A rummage later, you wait, kicking your feet in the air, resting your chin in the cup of your palm. When he turns again, he sees you waving your ass from side to side, ready for him. Slick is coating your pussy, your upper thighs glossy with it too.
"That a present all for me?"
Pulling your cheeks apart again, he kisses each one, lightly nipping on the soft flesh as he does. And then, without much warning, he burries his tongue between your spread legs, licking a thick stripe from your clit to your asshole, groaning with every lick over your tight ring. Fisting the sheets, you press your face into the mattress. If he's going to keep doing this before he even fucks you, you're going to come again and fall asleep before he can get inside you.
"I thought this was a present for me, you're acting mighty excited back there."
"It is. Never said I wouldn't get anythin' outta it though."
A cool trickle of lube drizzles into your crack, quickly spread by Joel's large finger. He teases for a moment, circling your tight hole a little before gently pushing in.
"Fuck."
Moaning in agreement, you almost speak to agree, but then his finger is gently fucking your asshole and all words fail you. Coming just a moment ago did nothing to stop the need you had for this man, the feeling in your core growing tenfold as each moment passed.
"Fuck, Joel, put it in my ass and fuck me already."
The strangled noise from behind you startles you, and you look back for a second to see Joel's eyes pinched together and his head thrown back as his hand grips tightly around the base of his cock, wings falling forward over his shoulders as he desperately tries to relax himself.
"You can't say shit like that to me, darlin'."
"Then stick it in me, stupid."
Fingers slick with lube, he strokes the plug, before sliding the cold tip across your hole.
"Wanted go slow. Wanna watch you take it."
With a soft push, he presses the tip forward, watching as your hole accepts the cold tip with ease. This was always something you loved, even playing with your plugs by yourself when the feeling took you. It had been too long since anyone else had played with your ass, and you can't say you were too mad about Joel being the first to touch you there in so long.
The stretch is soft, and soon the bulb of the head pushes past your tight ring, making Joel hiss behind you as he watches you take it. He fucks you with it once, then twice, before pushing firmly, letting your ass take the entire length of the plug. Twisting it, he sits the heart upright, before leaning forward to kiss it. It's not often you get a man's face buried in your ass so, figuring it's karmic justice for the species, you push back into him, holding back a laugh when a small oomph escapes his lips when your ass collides with his face.
"Gonna tell Santa Joel you did that. No nice list for you."
"Then if I'm already on the naughty list, fuck me already. You promised me lovin'."
Wiggling your ass, you arch your back to expose your pussy to him even more. He hasn't so much as put a finger in you yet, and part of you is glad for it. You want to feel his cock pull you apart as it fills you, pushing past the ridge of the plug lodged in your ass. You want to feel stretched and full and ruined.
Joel seems to be on the same page, shuffling forward, dick in hand, sliding the tip through your slick folds. Catching on your entrance, he runs the tip of his dick across the plug where it's nestled inside you before pushing down, slipping into your empty hole.
And fuck is it tight. If it feels this good for you, the half-filled and stretched wide feeling of his cock in one hole and the plug in the other, you wonder how it must feel on his dick. You're wet, dripping really, soaking his cock and letting him in with ease, but there's the solid lump of the plug dragging along the top side of his cock as he pushes in.
Deciding he's going too fucking slow, too tentative when all you want is to be filled, you push back. In one swift rock you take him to the root, gasping and hitting the bed with your fists as he bottoms out, his own fingers digging into you flesh harshly.
"Sh-fuck, fuck."
Stopping, you almost pull away, worried you might have hurt him, but his grip stops you. Before you can turn or question him, he's pulling back, slamming in hard again, groaning when you take him completely.
If Santa Joel destroyed you, Cupid Joel is going to wreck you entirely. And you welcome it.
He's fucking you steadily in no time, relishing in the sound of your moans getting higher and higher in pitch with each pound.
Your knees buckle first, planting you face first in your sheets. Joel tries to pull you up, but his own knees are slipping, dragged down by the grip of your cunt on his cock. Giving in, he crowds over you, pumping deep into you despite the tangle of limbs you've become in the last few seconds. Somewhere in the scuffle you've kicked the bow and arrow, listening as they clatter to the floor just as tangled as the two of you are.
He's warm, and sweaty, and heavy above you, holding just enough of his weight on his elbows to let you breathe. Making a few more shallow thrusts, he suddenly stills, nose breathing deep into your hair.
"Shit. Can't come yet. I got one more surprise for you," he pants into your ear, offering you a soft kiss to your shoulder before his weight shifts.
You want to grab him and hold him to you, beg him to come in you already, but he has other ideas and he's pulling out before you can grab him. "Ugh."
"Gimme a sec," he grunts from behind you. "Can't - hmfph - get it over - god damn it - my balls. There. Got it. Snug but, damn, look at that."
Looking behind you, you watch as he sways from side to side, looking down where his cock bobs between his legs. He's mesmerized, and soon so are you.
He's strapped another cock just below his own, the tapered black dildo just shorter than he is. It sits flush to his full balls, anchored to them by a thick ring, another wrapped around his length. Even with the sounds of his struggle, you're amazed he got it on so quickly.
"Don't have to take both but," and he shrugs - fucking shrugs all coy and uncertain as if he hasn't reached into the depths of your brain and pulled out your most desperate fantasy of taking two cocks at once.
"Didn't wanna spook you, but given you like gettin' your asshole played with," he says with a press to the plug still sat in your ass. "Worth finding out if you're into ass fuckin' too."
You were. Fuck yes, you were. You had your own collection of toys and plugs for a reason, but it had been a criminally long time since anyone had really fucked you there. Other than Joel, it had been a criminally long time since anyone had fucked you anywhere.
"If I say yes, what else are you gonna pull out from back there? You got a bag of tricks around here somewhere."
Joel gives you a toothy grin, stroking his hand over his slicked cock before sliding two fingers straight into you. "Tool bag is downstairs, but ain't got anythin' in there I'd like to put in here darlin', don't worry."
Fingers slipping slick and wet inside you, pressing firmly upward with help of the plug still lodged in your ass, you're rendered speechless again. Reaching out for him you hold his hand in place, fucking yourself on his fingers for a moment before reaching further toward him.
Joel gasps when your hand gently cups around his balls, the thick rings of the toy strapped around them making them seem even fuller with the press of the dildo into them. You roll reach one beneath your fingers, catching the dark look in his eyes.
"You like 'em, huh? Know you liked havin' 'em in here."
"Fuck. Thought about it so much since. Dreamed of you coming back to fuck me with them again."
"Tsk, ain't disappointing you, am I?"
"Joel, you have two cocks and you're threatening me with a good time. You couldn't disappoint me right now even if you tried. And you broke into my house. Again. Now, if you don't fuck my ass with either of the cocks you have there soon I'm going to do it myself," you say, fingers stilling on his balls, before you think again and add, "Please."
"Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart. C'mon now, lemme take this out. Can put it back in this needy hole after. That's it."
It's surreal, looking up at him as he gently tugs the plug out of your ass, offering you sweet murmurs of encouragement. You know nothing about him, save for his first name and penchant for dress up games. And yet, the desire you have for him is steadily creeping upward as time ticks on. Truthfully, you didn't even really remember what he looked like when you thought about him, fingers toying with your clit as you came to memories of Christmas eve. Low light and mind melting orgasms will do that to you. All you knew was his voice and the soft filthy way he fucked you. Now, getting a proper look at him without the shield of twinkling lights and that red jacket, you can truly appreciate him. He's fit, though you suspect he's never stepped foot in a gym a day in his life. He's soft too, in the way that strong sturdy things are soft. You want nothing more than to pull him into you, to press his softness against your own as he ruts into your holes, but that's decidedly not what this is. Whatever this is, between the mild crime and fucking, it isn't that sort of soft sweet thing.
You don't know how he's going to do it, which cock is going to take which hole, but you decide you don't care when he's leaning over you to press a soft kiss to your lips. When your legs wrap around him of their own accord it's all but decided, and he takes his cock in hand - his real one - and lines up with your dripping slit, pushing in slightly before fumbling below for the other. It takes a moment - the lubed up dildo slipping from his grasp as he huffs and tries, but fails, to slot it against you. Briefly tangling your fingers with his, you take over, positioning the toy at your ass, feeling it slip in a little already as he grinds his hips forward, desperate to be balls deep in you again. With both cocks poised and ready you moan, quivering and clamping your eyes shut at merely the thought of being fucked in both holes at once.
With one more press forward, Joel slides in, the glide of lube easing the dildo into your ass as his cock reclaims its place inside your pussy.
And fuck, you have never been so full, and Joel has never fucked something so damn tight. The space his cock would normally make is taken up by the dildo, fighting for position inside of you as he rocks gently, sliding in and out of you with gradually deeper movements. The deeper he presses, the more desperate your moans become, and you catch the hesitation in his face before he can move.
"Don't you fuckin' dare stop."
This time he doesn't, wordlessly pushing into you and filling both your holes to the brim as sweat trickles down his face. You want to lick it off him, to sink your nails into his back, wings be damned, to lick the salt from his skin and bite down into the the firm flesh at his neck. But the only thing you can do before he's fucking you in earnest is grab hold, careful to avoid snapping the elastic of his wings against his shoulders as he pounds forward. There's no candlelight and rose petals here, just the raw sound of skin slapping against skin, grunts heaving into the air as you pull yourselves into each other.
"Tell me how it feels," you rasp into his ear, watching the flap of wings over his shoulder. "Tell me how it feels fucking me with both of your cocks."
"Oh, shit, it's good. So good, baby. Someone's definitely goin' on the naughty list next Christmas. You likin' this? You likin' being fucked in both holes?"
A frantic nod is all you can manage as he starts hitting a spot in you you didn't know existed, building pressure in your cunt like never before.
"I know. You're just so full, ain't you. Take two dicks so well. Pulling me in so good."
Hoisting your legs over Joel's hips, you grip around him, a loud moan bursting out of your chest as he fucks back down, deeper now at the new angle. This is it. This is how you die, you're sure of it.
"How close - How close are you. I think I'm gonna - fuck - die -AH!"
He stops grunting for a moment to force out a breathless "Am I hurtin'?"
It only takes one look at you for Joel to realize he's not hurting you at all. There you are, fucked all the way to oblivion and back, a chorus of angels screaming in your ears with each snap of his hips. You're going to come again, clit untouched and holes filled, a way you've never managed to before. You don't even know how it's happening, all you know is that suddenly your soul feels like it's being pulled straight from your bones, through the middle of you and out through your cunt and asshole at the hands of Cupid Joel himself. And then you're gushing, mind and pussy totally detached as you come, soaking his cock and your sheets.
"Yeah that's it," he grunts, his weight surrounding you once more as he pushes into your spasming holes over and over, chasing his own release. If it wasn't for the damn tight rings around his cock and balls he would've come already, but your moans in his ear and your fingers gripping his shoulders spur him forward.
"Joel."
"Gonna come. Gonna fuckin' - uh - come in your tight fuckin' pussy."
"Yes, yes, come in me, please, I can't, I'm gonna -"
Joel stiffens, hips stuttering as he gives you a few hard, shallow thrusts, before he explodes inside you, groaning so loud it makes your ears ring and cunt make one last attempt to clench around him. As much as you soaked him, he's just filled your cunt, cum pushing deep inside you with each spurt, locked in place by the fullness of the two cocks inside you. You collapse back, your ears still ringing and your limbs feeling soft and heavy.
This time you're certain black out for a moment.
But when you peel open your eyes, Cupid Joel is above you again, halo'd by the bright yellow light on your bedroom ceiling. His hair is damp, wet even, from sweat, a bead trickling down his neck and glittering in the light. And in his eyes there's concern, a worried pinch in his brow as he searches your face.
"You passed out -"
"- You're still here."
He rolls his eyes. "Way to make a guy feel special, sweetheart," he says with a cocky smile. "Just checkin' on you, but I can get goin' as long as you're okay."
You nod, the movement feeling as slurred as your speech. "You left. Last time. Saw you walkin'. Jus' wonderin'."
"Wait... you saw that? Shit, I thought you were asleep."
"No, wasn't 'sleep."
"You gonna sleep now?"
"No," you murmur with a nod, closing your eyes as you feel the last sweep of his hand down your neck, pulling a sheet over your limp form, just for you to mumble one last thing before the soft darkness takes you. "Balls... next time... please."
"You got it, darlin'."
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It's an arduous journey to the bathroom when you wake up in the dead of night, remnants of cum trickling down your legs and thighs sticking together. Quickly cleaning yourself up, you check the house for signs of him, already knowing that he's long gone. You wonder how he left this time, whether he kept the wings on, whether he still had a second cock strapped to his own as he escaped into the darkness. For all you know, your cupid could have flown away on glittered fairy wings.
And then you're crawling back into bed, takeout long forgotten, any hunger you had satisfied in a different way than you expected. Somehow there's comfort in the wet patch you curl yourself around. Cupid Joel is gone from your house, but there are still traces of him here. The cum on the sheets, the ache between your legs and, as you reach to turn the light off and let darkness take you, the butt plug on your bedside table. Between the Christmas decorations stashed in a box in your closet and this plug, you were slowly amassing pieces of a man you didn't really know - gifts from a stranger that made you feel more at home in this place you'd moved to than anything else had managed to in ten months.
Tracing the outline of the heart with your finger, you stretch and snuggle back down into bed, letting exhaustion take hold and when you dream, you dream of flying.
next part
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honestsycrets · 10 months
Note
hi !! i love your writings so much, especially the Miguel ones (SPECIFICALLY THE ONE WHERE HE IS A DAD AHA-)
May I request a Miguel O'Hara fic/ blurb/ ( anything, really :D ) where he does the skin to skin contact with his newborn baby girl? thank you so much !! <33
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❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader
❛ tags | fluff, family fic, post-birth scene, papa!miguel, Spanish is not translated.
❛ sy's notes | the amount of baby fics in my inbox—
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Miguel never wanted to cause you pain. Less so, be responsible for it. The pain was a sacrifice that you were willing to make-- because you loved him. Pleading for a child, his little Mireya was all his idea. In your mind, it was only right that if you carried her for nine months, he would be the first to hold her. 
For all the nights of stroking your stomach and waiting in longing, he finally had what he wanted-- he finally had his little daughter. Her tiny little body was eclipsed by his massive muscle. She was impossibly small. He felt like a peasant or a beast, her small body enveloped in his bare arms. 
“Mi amor,” your exhausted voice was recognizable, but it didn’t register. Nothing did. He peeled away the paper-thin blanket from her plump lip for his first look at his little girl. His body felt impossibly warm, emotions bubbling in warm mirth and deep pride. “Can I... see her?” 
He doesn’t want to ignore you, but the little girl in his arms commands any ability he would have had to be a useful husband. He truly tried to be over the past nineteen hours of labor. Now, he’s busy being a father. 
“Miguel? Mireya should do skin-to-skin now,” the spider woman aiding your labor called. You willed her down with your hand and shook your sweat-slicked head at her. It was better to change the soiled sheets than to deal with Miguel. She nodded. 
“He needs a minute.”  For nine months, Mireya felt more like an idea than an attainable reality. Miguel did everything to make sure she was safe. Now here she was, her puffy lips petal pink. He knew her eyes would be the warmest shade of brown he’s ever seen, even with them firmly held shut. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be gorgeous. Miguel nestled her with practice in one arm, ghosting his index finger over her tiny button of a nose. After a few moments, he swayed toward the bed where you lay, body swollen and achy. You grimaced as you moved, your core red-hot. The spider woman made herself scarce, a lopsided smile on her lips.
Your fingers fluttered over the clean sheets to invite him over. Miguel complied with your wishes. He settled on the plush bed, shifting Mireya out of her warm blanket and onto his naked chest. Her small chest was against his, throwing his hand underneath your neck to urge you closer. Mireya’s soft cheek plastered against Miguel’s chest, their breaths heaving in near unison. Her peaceful rest seemed to relax something in Miguel as well, stroking her back as she slept, so impossibly small.
It was easy to be jealous of the way he looked at her— in full admiration, rapture, and pure love that you simply could not measure up to. You glanced at your little daughter, a smile pulling at your lips. For your part, you were unable to understand that this little girl, whose chest moved in time with Miguel’s, was yours too. It would come, in time, but for now, you were enamored with the delight that strikes Miguel's normally trained face.
“Mireya,” you murmured, slipping your finger against her tiny palm. Fully asleep, her tiny digits dangled over your index finger. “Your papa wants to see your eyes.” 
“Déjela,” Miguel murmured. “She’s tired.” 
“Already protecting her,” you shifted your finger away from Mireya’s hand, tracking the stubble that peppered Miguel’s jawline. “Where does that leave me?” 
Miguel clicked his teeth as your hand flicked off his chin. 
“Don’t be jealous already.” 
“Mmm,” you settled your head down, heavy eyes shifting shut. “I have to be. You’re a hard man to keep Miguelito.”
"Tch," as if giving him a child wouldn’t keep him busy. Miguel’s eyes tracked his small daughter’s soft breaths to your head that rested on his shoulder. His familia was complete, fully and wonderfully complete. As long as he didn’t get another case of baby fever, it would hopefully say that way. For now, it was just right.
“Gracias, Mami.” 
“Hm? For what?” 
“Por mi hija-- for Mireya.” 
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leemacher · 6 months
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You're Enough For Me | Astarion x Gn!Tav!Reader
Summary: Shortly after making it to Baldur's Gate, a moment alone with Halsin reveals how he truly feels about you. In talking to Astarion, you realize the true extent to which his time with Cazador affected him, and his relationship with you. OR In which you and Astarion have a conversation about you rejecting Halsin because I don't like that you can't bring that moment up unless you imply that you said yes to Halsin
Word Count: 2,343
Content: fluff, slight angst, mentions of sex, Astarion's trauma, established relationship
Sliding down a tree trunk to sit, resting against it, you didn’t even begin to take in the river before you. Instead, you closed your eyes for the first time in what felt like days. Listening to the river rushing by you and the birds chirping around you, with a deep breath in your muscles began to relax. 
For once there were no goblins or shadow monsters to watch out for, there were no cultists trying to kill you or the gods chosen to deal with, and no one needed saving. In that moment it was you and the calm, peaceful world around you.
Unfortunately, like all good things, your perfect serene world melted away at the sound of light footsteps behind you.
“If you're here to kill me, bargain with me, or ask for a favor, come back tomorrow. I’m taking the night off.” At your voice, the footsteps abruptly stopped, and instead came a laugh that you would know anywhere.
Astarion moved to stand next to your sitting form, leaning up against the tree on his side. “Darling, if that was your attempt at intimidation it needs some work.”
You found yourself chuckling with a light smile before looking up at him. “Maybe you can teach me.”
He hummed, casting his eyes towards the river. Taking the moment to admire his features, as you often found yourself doing in moments like these as of late, you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gotten lucky enough to be involved with someone like him. No matter how often you knew he thought himself unworthy of your affection, or any affection really, you felt the exact opposite.
This man who had been through so much, fought for so long, had chosen you. Astarion’s past was one both of you battled nightly, so while you didn’t know all of the little details, you knew enough to understand how deeply his time with Cazador affected him. How much of himself he had lost. The idea that what little of himself he had left he was willingly given to you sent shivers up and down your spine every time you thought about it. He chose to be vulnerable with you, he was open with you, eventually, and he could find safety and comfort in your presence. You were definitely the lucky one.
“C’mon, love.” His voice brought you out of your thoughts. By the look on his face, you could tell he had been thinking of the same things.
Grabbing his hand and pulling yourself up and towards him, the two of you began your walk back to camp. Tomorrow you would finally reach the city, and all of the chaos and stress would fall right back onto your shoulders. Tonight though? Tonight you were going to lie down, curled into Astarion’s side, and have the best sleep you’ve had since this nightmare had begun.
 Filing back into camp after a long day of wandering around the city, you couldn’t help but feel joy when you saw Gale making something over the fire out of a few ingredients he had bought during the day. It had been a while since any of you have had food that didn’t just consist of whatever animal you had come across during your journey.
Setting your things down, the first thing you noticed was that most of your companions hadn’t come back yet. Only you, Shadowheart, Gale and Halsin had had their fill of the city it would seem.
While sorting through the items you had bought and… well, not bought, a hand landed on your shoulder and you jumped in fright. Whipping around you came face to face with Halsin, who had a guilty look upon him.
“Sorry, I did not mean to scare you.”
Laughing it off, you shook your head and pulled yourself together. “It’s fine, Halsin. Is there something you needed?”
He nodded, then. “I’d like to talk to you about something actually.” Nodding for him to continue, you watched as the man who stood strong in the face of everything you had faced together became somewhat nervous, though no less serious.
“I never quite realized how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the grove.” He trailed off for a moment before regaining his words as you tried to figure out where this conversation was leading. “I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you”
You smiled, softly. It seemed everyone in camp had a habit of thanking you for things they did all on their own, albeit with a little support. “I wouldn’t claim to be responsible for all of the things you’ve accomplished, but you’re welcome nonetheless.”
At your words, he laughed lightly in what seemed to be disbelief. “You’re too modest. I wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are. But I do.” Your heart felt as if it had stuttered in your chest. He wasn’t implying… Was he? “I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly, but it does now.”
Oh. He was. A thousand thoughts swam through your head. Thoughts of Halsin and the moments between the two of you at the party after the grove, of the feelings you had felt grow slightly at his willingness to risk everything, do anything, in order to remove the curse over the shadowlands and restore Thaniel to his former self. “What are you saying, exactly?” Your words came out in a shocked breath, no doubt picked up on by the man before you.
“I want more than to fight by your side, or to sit around a campfire with you.” His hands reached out slowly and hesitantly for yours. “I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine. And I think you feel the same way, but tell me I’m wrong and the matter can rest. I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more.”
With a slow sigh, you closed your hands around Halsin’s, thoughts ultimately landing on Astarion and the connection the two of you shared. “I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t feel as you do. Your kindness and resilience in all we’ve faced has allowed you to grow on me in a way that I never thought possible.” You could see the deep breath Halsin took in, and knew that even if you did not share in his desires as much as he did, it would hurt you just as much. “But, I’m with Astarion. Mind, body, and soul. Had we met under different circumstances, or had things gone differently, I may have indulged in such sentiments. But I can’t, and truly no matter how I feel towards you, I don’t want to.”
Your hands clutched his tighter, determined to let him down as easily as you possibly could. Halsin was a great man, and he deserved great things. “I know that if I wanted, you would be okay with sharing. The whole ‘as nature intended’ thing,” the two of you shared a laugh. “But Astarion means the world to me, and even if he was okay with it, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing myself in that way with someone else knowing that it is his heart I live for.”
Slowly, an understanding smile appeared on Halsin’s face, and his words made the weight of guilt and sadness fly off of your shoulders. “I understand. It is true that I would never ask for you to leave Astarion, nor would I have held you without his consent, but I understand my ideals are not for everyone.” He paused for a moment, squeezing your hands back before releasing them fully. “I am happy that you have found someone you wish to share yourself with in that way. Thank you, for allowing me this moment.”
“Of course, Halsin.” He nodded in goodbye before making his way back over to his tent and slipping inside.
The moon rose quickly, and a fire was kept going by Gale. As all of the others began filing back into camp, excited from things bought and people met within the city, you still could not get your conversation with Halsin out of your head.
Quickly getting up from the fire and grabbing one of the two bags Astarion carried, you brushed your hand against his with the intention of holding it, giving him the opportunity to pull away and smiling brightly when he fully slipped his hand into yours. His tent, as always, was welcoming and warm. Filled with tattered books and the finest blankets and pillows he could get his hands on up until this point, it was no surprise when he pulled out a very nice looking quilt and matching fluffy pillow set that had no doubt cost a fortune, if he even bought them at all.
You sat down, watching as he moved his newly procured items to the exact spot he wanted them in. Chuckling lightly in an almost nervous manner, you disrupted the quiet in favor of getting what happened earlier off of your chest. Not that you had done anything wrong, but it still felt odd for him not to know, given all the things he did know about you due to the many nights spent watching the stars and talking about anything and everything you could. “You wouldn’t believe the conversation I had with Halsin today.”
Your voice came out low, meant for the two of you only, and you watched as Astarion froze for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this.” Your confusion was clear as day, and in voicing this, you were only left more confused. “I guessed! The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of nature’s gifts’. I bet he’d outlaw clothing if he could.”
Letting out a laugh at his impression of the local druid, Astarion smirked to himself before continuing to move everything around so that his tent was just right. “Wait, so, you’d be okay? If I…” You trailed off, uncertain.
“I’m happy for you to have as much Halsin as you wish, far be it from me to hold your hunger against you. I just have one question, before you go off with him-” Your mind began to spin, as light as the conversation seemed to have been, he hadn’t even given you a chance to tell him what truly happened. He had no doubt that you said yes? “This isn’t because… We haven’t… In a while? Is it?”
His pace in readjusting his belongings finally came to slow down as he said this, intently watching you for a reaction.
“What? No!” Astarion let out a small breath of relief, and before he could continue with what he was about to say, you cut him off. “And slow down, for gods sake. I told him no.”
Astarion’s facial expressions shifted so fast you could barely keep up. “You... said no?”
Nodding, you let a soft smile take over your features. You reached for him, pulling him down towards you and forcing him to sit in front of you. “I said no. I told him that even if you were comfortable with it, I wasn’t. Because I only want you.”
You let your words sink in, holding onto both of his hands and waiting for some kind of response. “Oh. I mean,” he paused. “Oh.” 
“Astarion,” you reached your hand up and placed it lightly on his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “I need you to listen to me, very carefully.” His eyes widened slightly. “Sex? Doesn’t matter to me. If we never had sex again it would be okay with me, so long as we were still together. Holding your hand, kissing you, cuddling, just… just talking with you, existing with you, is enough for me. Because I’m not with you for your body, or even your face, even if it is a really really pretty face. I’m with you because of you, because of who you are and the way you make me feel. Your smile, your laugh, your wit, those pesky morals you’ve been developing recently,” you let out a giggle. “Sex with you would be great, if and only if you are comfortable with it.”
It was silent for a moment, before Astarion finally spoke up. “And what if I’m never comfortable with it.”
The waver in his voice was almost enough to make you burst into tears at that very moment. “Then that’s okay.” You brushed your thumb across his cheek. “I love you, Astarion. That’s why I’m with you. I choose to be with you because I am in love with you. Sex has nothing to do with that.”
His eyes fluttered close as you spoke those words, his head leaning ever so slightly into the palm of your hand. 
After a few minutes of silence between the two of you, you spoke again. “I’m going to go head out to the fire and get a nice spot ready to eat with the rest of them. Come and join me when you’re ready.” Shifting to get up, you planted a soft kiss onto his forehead and lightly brushed your fingers through his hair before stepping out of the tent and leaving him to process the moment you two had shared.
You sent smiles to your friends as you took up your usual spot around the fire, thanking Gale as he handed you a bowl of freshly cooked soup. Eventually, you felt the familiar hands of your partner slide around your waist and pull you onto his lap.
Setting your empty bowl aside, you smiled at the faintest sound of an “I love you” lingering in the air, so soft you almost didn’t hear it. You whispered it back and laid against him, relaxing into his arms.
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sabersandsnipers · 5 months
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A Traveler in the Grove
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The laughter of children is the first thing you hear as you approach the Grove. Two great trees mark its entrance, and your sharp eyes make out young ones of every race running about. Your heart swells at the sight.
You approach slowly, soaking in every moment you can of the scene before you. A great thudding noise breaks your peace. A brown bear suddenly races through the flock of children, a young elf boy sitting on its back.
Halsin. Your heart skips a beat. It’s been months since you were last able to visit the Grove, but the memory of your time spent with Halsin has graced your thoughts every day since. You’ve craved his touch and his voice.
A tiefling girl is the first to notice your approach. “Tav! Tav is here!” She begins sprinting towards you, the rest of the group following her. Shouts and whoops of excitement fill your ears.
You can’t stop yourself from grinning as you squat down to greet the children. Tiny arms embrace you before the sheer volume of them becomes too much, and you're knocked over into a pile of giggles and tight hugs.
“Easy now, children, you want to keep her in one piece.” A deep voice breaks through the noise.
You’re finally able to sit up and are met with the sight of the man you’ve been dreaming of. Your skin flushes as you take in his broad frame and kind smile
“I believe they’ve missed you,” Halsin says as he offers you a hand. His skin is warm against yours as he helps you up. “And I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought of you often as well.”
Your cheeks redden at his words, and you nearly laugh at yourself. For months you’ve been making your way through the world, healing others and helping to rebuild. And here you are blushing like some love sick adolescent.
“You must be tired from your travels,” he continues. “I’ll make us some tea and you can rest.”
He places a hand along the small of your back. Shivers run along your spine as he leads you into the Grove.
The mug of tea warms your hands as you lean back in the surprisingly comfortable wooden chair by the fire. Not surprising considering Halsin made the chair himself.
Excitement thrums in your veins. A gift for him rests in the inner pocket of your jacket. You wait until a comfortable silence rests over you before reaching for it.
“I brought you something,” you tell him, pulling out the gift wrapped in a brown cloth.
His eyes light up, and he leans forward to take it from you. He gives you a smile before tugging at the twine holding it together. The cloth falls away, revealing two leather bound books.
“I know how much you love your books, and I was thinking you would like these ones as well,” you tell him.
Halsin’s large fingers flip through the pages. The books you selected for him are filled with tales surrounding nature. Stories of dwarves and elves exploring mountain ranges and country sides. As happy as Halsin is to settle down, you’re sure there’s a side of him that misses the freedom to roam. At least this way you can bring the adventure to him.
He stands up abruptly, and strides over to gather you in his arms. He squeezes you so tightly it nearly takes your breath away. You laugh against his chest.
“I take it you like them?” You ask, voice muffled.
He releases you just enough to look at you. “They’re beautiful,” he replies. He tilts your chin up and presses his lips to yours. You nearly melt under his touch. Your memory doesn’t do him justice. Nothing can remind you of how powerful his kiss is.
He breaks the kiss and lets his forehead rest against yours, an intimate movement that has your chest swelling with affection.
“I’ve truly missed you, my heart,” he says.
“I’ve missed you too,” you respond, nuzzling your forehead against his. You take a deep breath, inhaling his comforting scent.
He steps away and lets his gaze roam over you, as if he needs to take in every possible moment he has with you.
But his eyes say something more. There’s something apparent that’s taking up his thoughts.
You take his hand in yours. “What is it, love?”
A look of amusement flickers across his expression. “Is it that obvious?” He asks.
You let out a light laugh. “You tend to say a lot without needing to speak.”
He smirks. He looks down to your joined hands. “I want you to stay this time.” His eyes meet yours then. “I want you to stay with me.”
You’re not surprised by his words. This has needed a discussion for some time. Your heart aches to be with him, but there’s always been a tug within you to help those out in the world. And after the events with the mind flayers, there’s no shortage of those who need healing.
Your throat grows a bit thick. “I want to, I really do.” You force yourself to meet his gaze. “But I can’t just leave those in the realm to suffer.”
A beat of silence passes, the crackling of the fire the only sound. “I understand, better than most. But what if I told you we needed you? Me. The children. The other druids.” His voice remains soft. “We’re always in need of someone to help with the children, to cure their illnesses, and their injuries. And they love you dearly. As do I.”
His words unleash a deep longing within you. A longing to be here. To have a home and to be held at the end of the day. And yet you’ve never allowed yourself this thought, because you believed you needed to do more.
But with Halsin standing before you, asking you to stay, everything within you tells you that this is where you belong.
You reach up and brush a dark strand of hair away from his face. His green eyes are hopeful.
“As long as you have mead on hand, I’ll stay,” you say.
He laughs. A deep, beautiful sound. He pulls you into his arms again, kissing you deeply. His hands roam along your hips to your bottom, his joy clearly apparent by his actions.
“We should go tell the children, Daddy Halsin,” you say, laughing against his lips.
A low growl leaves his throat. “It can wait.”
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runninriot · 27 days
Text
written for the @steddiesongfics may prompt
(David Bowie - Absolute Beginners, 1986)
wc: 1986 | rated: t | tags: Steddie in love, newly established relationship, fluff, background characters, Good Uncle Wayne Munson | also on ao3
As long as we’re together, the rest can go to hell
Waking up in Eddie’s arms for the first time feels unreal. Like maybe he’s not really awake after all. Maybe Steve’s still stuck in a beautiful dream and the sound of the other man’s peaceful breathing is just a fragment of his imagination. But he can feel Eddie’s chest rise and fall beneath his head, can feel the comfortable weight of Eddie’s arm on his back, the soothing warmth of his skin.
Maybe it is real.
Maybe they actually, finally got their shit together – as Robin would say.
    God, Robin would be so smug if she could see him right now, nuzzling Eddie’s skin, sinking deeper into the sleeping man’s arms.
She’d known there was something going on, told him so but never pushed. Even before that night Eddie came out to them a few months back. Where Robin told him her secret, too, and Steve didn’t even know he had one of his own to share.
Before Steve realised what that funny feeling was. What it meant to have a riot of butterfly wings create a storm in his stomach, to have his heartbeat set the rhythm to a song he’s never heard before.
Man, she will be so proud of herself when- if they tell her.
They will tell her, right?
They’ll them all – Robin, Nance, the kids...
Dustin.
    Oh God, what will Dustin say if they tell him that they’re-
Together?
Are they together?
Is this- Is this what they are?
It must be, right?
Eddie told him he loves him. Kept repeating the words over and over again between kisses. Said it so many times, Steve had no reason to believe it wasn’t true.
It must be true because Steve wants it to be true.
Eddie is-
This isn’t just a stupid crush, some made-believe infatuation with his high school sweetheart. Steve isn’t a stupidly naive teenager anymore. He knows the difference between simply searching for affection and truly wanting to be with someone.
He is in love with Eddie. That’s a fact. Unshakeable like the fact that water is wet, the sun is hot, and the moon is 238.700 miles away from earth (yes, he does listen to Dustin ramble about his stupid nerd interests sometimes, thank you very much).
He’s in love and although this is all very scary and new, he wants their friends to know about them. Wants them to be happy for them.
But what if they’re not?
What if the fact that he’s in love with another man gives Mike one more reason to hate him? What if Lucas refuses to let Steve coach him because of it? What if it doesn’t work out and Dustin has to choose between him and Eddie? What if-
   “I can hear you think.”
Steve startles when Eddie tightens his arms around him, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. And when he looks up at Eddie, Steve finds two sleepy eyes blinking back at him.
   “Morning, baby,” Eddie says through a smile and-
Steve’s heart immediately does that thing again and there’s this familiar feeling in his gut, and Eddie looks so soft in the warm morning light that Steve just can’t not kiss him.
   “Morning,” Steve finally answers when they part – Eddie’s hand still holding his face, beautiful eyes looking right into his soul, and Steve feels like flying.
   “Hm, so that’s not what it’s about, huh?”
Steve’s confused, doesn’t know what Eddie is talking about and it must show on his face because Eddie chuckles before he continues.
   “For a moment I was scared you’ve gotten all nervous and fidgety because you were- I don’t know. That maybe you had doubts. About this?” He moves his free hand between the two of them, pointing at himself and back at Steve.
   “But I guess you kissing me despite my morning breath must mean you-“
Steve shuts him up with another press of lips, morning breath be damned. He won’t give Eddie any reason to even think for another second that he doesn’t want this. Because he does. He wants this, them, together. Probably more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.
He shakes his head, doesn’t know how to express all those things that are rattling his mind. How to tell Eddie what goes on in his head without stumbling over the words, without twisting his tongue, without making a fool of himself because-
They’ve only just woken up and it’s the first time they’re in bed together and instead of just enjoying the moment, instead of being in the here and now, Steve is already like, 238.700 steps ahead.
   “Talk to me, Stevie. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
Steve slowly relaxes into the pleasant feeling of Eddie’s fingers gently scraping along the back of his neck like he’s trying to coax the words out of him, trying to help slow down his racing thoughts. And somehow, it works.
   “I was just-“ Steve takes a deep, grounding breath, “I was just wondering if we should tell the others. About us. A-about us being... boyfriends?”
Steve feels heat spreading in his face, feels the blush creep from his cheeks to his ears.
He didn’t mean to make it sound like a question but they haven’t really defined what they are, yet. They’ve been way too busy making out, kissing, touching – God, how could he not have been completely distracted by the way Eddie kissed him. The way he painted his neck in love-coloured bruises. How he worshipped Steve’s whole body with his lips like he was something special, something worth taking his time with.
And oh, his time he took, that teasing bastard. Made it his mission to kiss every goddamn mole and freckle on Steve’s body. Started counting them with his lips, his tongue, tracing his fingers over every inch of his exposed skin. Kissed him where no one had ever kissed him before, his touch so careful and gentle it only made Steve crazy for more, more, more.
By the time Eddie finally put his mouth on him, Steve was already so far gone that it took not even 30 seconds for him to lose it. But then Eddie didn’t give him a chance to feel embarrassed about it, just kept kissing him, touching him, showering him in sweet little nothings that meant everything to Steve.
   “Steve? You with me?”
    Hm? Oh.
   “S-sorry. What did you say?” Steve smiles apologetically, relieved when Eddie chuckles lightly.
   “I said. Yes, boyfriends. If you want that? And yes to telling people. God, I can’t wait to see Dustin’s stupid little face when he hears that I, Eddie Munson, get to date the hottest guy in Hawkins. Hell, the hottest guy in the entire fucking world!”
Eddie balls his fist and punches the air like he’s just won a competition, and the excitement in his voice is infectious, startles a loud and very unsexy snort out of Steve.
   “Take that, Dustin! So much for teasing me for my lack of success in the dating department. Ha! Oh, but Mike will be devastated. Everyone knows he’s got the biggest crush on you.”
   “What?! Shut up, he does not!” Steve is screeching now, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
   “You think I’m lying? Ask Lucas! He was the one that told me. Said he doesn’t quite get it but Lucas only has eyes for Max so, of course he doesn’t.”
   “Eddie, stop! I don’t believe it. Mike hates me! Sometimes I could swear he’s doing his best to pretend I don’t even exist.”
   “Tell yourself whatever makes you feel good, baby,” Eddie winks, smiles so bright it’s like he’s the sun himself. Bright like the sun and just as hot.
(How hot is the sun? Dustin will know, he’ll ask him next time he sees him.)
   “Robin will be a tough one, though.”
   “Huh? Robin? She’s literally one of us, Eds. Why should she of all people have any problem with us being together?”
Eddie must sense his concern, because he glides his thumb over Steve’s furrowed brows to smooth out the worry lines, kisses him on the forehead like that’s gonna stop his mind from reeling.
Weirdly enough, it does.
   “Well, duh! She’ll be so happy for you. It’s me I’m worried about.”
Eddie winks at him and that’s when Steve finally catches on. He huffs out a laugh, rolls his eyes in fake-annoyance, can’t not smile when Eddie offers him the saddest, most convincing puppy eyes he’s ever seen.
   “She’s going to kill me if I ever so much as make you mad or, god forbid, sad for whatever reason.”
   “Oh that’s easy to avoid. Just never make me mad or sad and you’ll be fine,” Steve mocks him, knows deep down Eddie would never anyway.
   “What about-“ Steve realises he hasn’t even thought about that before.
They’re at the trailer. Steve heard Wayne come home from his night shift a while ago, knows the man’s still awake, considering the noise coming from the outside Eddie’s bedroom.
   “Do you want to tell Wayne? It’s okay if not. We don’t- We can just pretend nothing has changed. I don’t want him to get mad. Or, or worse.”
Now it’s Eddie’s turn to look worried and Steve gets it. He couldn’t even think about telling his own parents. His father would- No, he’ll just have to keep this from them. Not like they ever really care for what goes on in his life anyway.
   “Come on.”
    What?
Eddie throws back the blanket they shared, leaving them both naked and exposed to the light of the day, the reality of the night before hitting them both with a rush of childish embarrassment, sending a deep blush into both their faces, both not used to being so vulnerably bare in front of each other.
But Eddie seems to regain his composure quickly, untangles from Steve’s arms and jumps out of the bed.
He grabs two pairs of boxers and sweatpants and shirts from his dresser, tossing half of them at Steve who’s still too stunned to speak.
   “Eddie, what-”
   “Hurry up, sweety! I smell coffee.”
Steve follows Eddie, nervously fussing with his hair in a weak attempt to make himself more presentable, less... ‘spent the night making out with your nephew’, hiding behind Eddie when Wayne catches sight of them.
   “Morning boys. Coffee?” The man grumbles, not even batting an eye when Eddie abruptly turns, grabs Steve by the face, and plants a kiss right on his mouth.
   “Yes, please. Me and my boyfriend would love a nice cup of coffee. Don’t we, Stevie?”
Eddie beams at him, a teeth-flashing grin on his face, and Steve wants to kill him. Wants to kiss him even more. Doesn’t know what to say, what to do. Just stands there, frozen in shock, dumbly nodding to answer the question he only vaguely remembers has been asked.
   “I see.” Wayne stands up from the armchair he was sitting in, walks over to them, blank expression on his face.
He exhales deeply and Steve holds his breath, not ready for whatever comes next.
   “Took you long enough to figure it out.”
Eddie shoots his uncle a look, rolls his eyes, scoffs – and Steve feels the weight of a thousand worlds fall off his shoulders.
(How much does one earth weigh? He’ll ask Dustin. Maybe he-)
   “You better treat him right, son. You do not wanna get in trouble with me for hurting him, you hear me?”
Steve’s mouth falls open in disbelief when he realises those words are directed at Eddie and not at him.
That’s what finally cuts the tension. Steve starts laughing, loud and whole-heartedly, feels lighter, better than ever before.
He kisses Eddie again, because he can. They’re in love, and that’s okay.
And as long as they’re together, the rest can go to hell.
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thatfreshi · 9 months
Text
Pitch Black (Astarion x Reader)
TW - panic attack, claustrophobia, themes of death/rotting
I based this off some sad lore I found out about him yesterday :(
Recommended Song: Rainy Day Loop - SALES
There's a lot of things Astarion hasn't told you. You don't mind, because a lot of those things are hard to relive. Everything he tells you comes with a price, but he does it mostly out of necessity. There are times you know something lies deeper, and yet you don't pry. It will come to light if he decides it needs to.
However, he never told you about one of the first truly cruel things Cazador did. How one day he refused him, told him no for once. He woke up buried six feet under, starving in undeath for an entire year until his master dug him up again. That was the last time he disobeyed.
This led to a fear he never told you about, claustrophobia, that terrifying feeling of being unable to escape small spaces. He doesn't like closets, this you knew, but you assumed it was because they're dark and sad, not because they're small rooms.
One morning you're sleeping, peaceful, arms wrapped around him tight. He wakes up before you, calm at first. When he realizes his discomfort at feeling trapped in your arms, he gently tries to move you off of him, but you grab back in your slumber, not knowing what's going on beyond the barrier of sleep. That first wave of panic sets in as you wrap yourself tighter than before, and he freezes up, remembering the smell of musty dirt and bones. He tries to scoot away, and you unknowingly pull him in again. That second time is enough for him to feel fully trapped, and without thinking he bites down hard on your arm.
"GODS!"
You bolt up out of your sleep, holding your arm, realizing it was Astarion who caused the sudden alarm. He sits at the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, still trying to ground himself. You try to ask him things, why the hell he'd do that to you, but he can't hear your questions. The worms, the beetles, at some point you become accustomed to the tiniest sounds. He wondered if they'd start to eat away at him, if vampires were like corpses, if he would slowly decompose in the ground. You go to touch his hand and he yanks it away, standing up.
"Astarion!"
And he finally turns to see you on the bed, your arm bleeding badly, how concerned you look. He can't speak though. Footsteps, people passing by, unable to scream because of how tightly packed the sediment is. You try anyways.
"Aster, listen to me. I need you to listen to me, okay?"
You're panicking. You haven't seen him this bad in a while. He's not there, at least not truly there. To be knocked out, only to wake up in pitch black, what a horror.
"I think you're having a panic attack my love, can you try to focus on one thing in the room?"
A painting, a landscape of a graveyard. He was put in a graveyard, some kind of cruel joke. His eyes wander to the frame, golden, like thread. He remembers stitching little phrases and stories into his clothes, he remembers the first time he did such a craft for you. The breathing starts to settle, still shaking, he sits back down next to you, and just starts sobbing. You go to hug him and he flinches.
"No!"
You are almost taken aback, but you remember that it's not your fault.
"Okay, that's okay. I'll just sit here with you."
He just cries for a while, and you let him. Clearly something startled him badly, badly enough that he bit you. You forgot until now that you were bleeding. Not only did his fangs pierce, but many of the rest of his teeth got through the skin. As you're analyzing your wound, you take part of the blanket and press it into your arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Astarion notices the movement, and you see guilt overcome his face immediately. You interrupt before he can speak.
"It's okay darling, I know you didn't mean it."
He wipes at his tears, finally coming back to reality, truly grounding himself.
"I... I'm sorry."
"I know, it's okay."
He stares at a crack in the floorboards.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He nods, mainly because he hates it when you're confused.
"So... a long time ago, Cazador decided it would be fun to bury me alive."
He almost laughs at how ridiculous it is, how someone could even think to do that. You just listen.
"And I stayed there for an entire year. And I don't know how it happened, but you tried to hug me tighter while you were asleep, and I- I just panicked, I felt so trapped and it just reminded me so much of-"
He can't even bring himself to say it again.
"I'm so sorry, I had no idea."
He scoffs.
"Yeah, you were asleep, and I freaked out like a monster and bit you."
He gazes down at the wound, wincing at what he's done.
"Hey, look at me. Wounds heal, I'll be okay. What matters is that you're okay."
"I... I think I'm okay now. Just, feel miserable."
"That's okay, you're allowed to feel however you want."
"I know. Thank you my sweet."
He picks your hand up off the bed, holding it to his face. It takes weeks after for him to be hugged again, especially being the little spoon, but you don't mind. You'll go through every phase of his, good and bad. This one just happens to be bad, and that's okay. He'll be okay. You'll both be okay.
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wallflowerimagines · 1 year
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Howdy dowdy, Partner. It's me, ya boi, Skinny Penis.
How would the Lords react to a selectively mute S/O? Especially their reaction to them talking to them for the first time.
I have this mental image of Heisenberg's S/O saying something really casually (while they're relaxing or something), and he just whips around to look at them and he just shouts "hoLY FUCK!"
Saw the first line of this ask and then it was followed by a cute prompt????---
Tumblr media
Warnings: swearing, my typical brand of silly
Alcina Dimitrescu
She's so used to your quiet demeanor it's to the point where she COMPLETELY forgot that your silence is a choice.
Alcina quite honestly never expected you to speak to her, and she was mentally planning for the rest of your relationship to be this way -- all of the servants are learning to sign, just in case, and she has pens and paper in every room if you prefer to write as your form of communication.
When you do finally speak up, she's frozen. What.
Oh. You can. You...can speak?
It's one of the times you've ever seen Alcina baffled, because honestly? She has no idea what to do.
However, you can bet she IMMEDIATELY analyses the situation in order to make sure she can get you to keep talking to her. Whatever made this happen needs to be repeated as much as possible -- Now that she knows you can be made comfortable enough to speak, she needs to hear you speak again.
(It might not have been your intention, but you hit her right in the superiority complex. Her partner spoke to HER. JUST her. Exclusively. Alcina is going to be riding this high for decades)
The Lady Dimitrescu is a big believer in positive reinforcement with her loved ones, so you better believe that every time you speak she is extra affectionate, because she does like to hear your voice!💞
Essentially, you have prompted constant affection DO NOT RESIST---
Donna Beneviento
I mentioned this in my other Donna x Mute reader post, but Donna is able to relate to a mute s/o a lot.
She's pretty nonverbal herself, so often you two have moments of quiet peace, where the two of you are doing your own thing together in the same room, taking breaks only to hold hands, cuddle, and kiss each other sweetly.
Truly dreamy💕💕💕
The first time you speak to her though, she's sewing a new outfit for one of her dolls, while you're reading in the setee beside her.
You peak over her shoulder, clear your throat and say: "You're really talented, Donna".
She drops a stitch.
Her face is burning underneath her veil. The first thing you say to her is a complement??? About a skill she is actually proud of??? That's already enough to get her heart stuttering, but you said her name.
It feels like such a small thing, but it sends Donna into a tizzy. Your lips formed the syllables of her name, and she can't get over it. You said a compliment and her name in the same sentence.
She's swooning. Smitten. Overcome.
Expect some flustered giggling and a compliment in return.
Salvatore Moreau
Salvatore has no chill whatsoever.
He literally drops everything and scuttles across the room to stand in front of you, flitting his hands around you in excitement, not quite touching you but close.
He's! So! Excited!
He didn't process what you even said-- you SPOKE TO HIM!!!! Fireworks are going off in his brain, Kool and the Gang are celebrating the good times, life is beautiful and love is in the air....
Moreau is delighted by this development. You feel safe enough around him a monster to vocalize your thoughts. You trust him. He already knew you did, but this is confirmation he didn't even know he wanted. Moreau almost starts crying he's so relieved.
Meanwhile you're repeatedly trying to warn him about the disaster occurring on the stove.
"... Salvatore, honey, the pancakes are burning."
Honey???? HONEY??? Are you TRYING to kill him????
Salvatore staggers on his feet, unintentionally the most dramatic you've ever seen him.
Sighing, you hide a smile behind your palm and give him a little smooch on the cheek before you go rescue your breakfast.
Moreau flatlines. Better give him some mouth to mouth 💗.
Karl Heisenberg
Absolutely shocked the first time you speak.
He's working on a soldat, fully used to the silence as he solders body parts together to make a deadly monster worthy of murdering Mother Miranda.
"You missed a spot--"
jESUS FUCK
Very softly, you speak up again. "At the shoulder. It's not... It's not fully connected."
Heisenberg whips around to just...stare??? At you for a bit?? His face is totally expressionless, but make no mistake his brain is reeling.
What is he supposed to do here? You feel comfortable enough to talk with him--this is a big deal, right? Is he supposed to comfort you? Praise you?
Still, it's not in Heisenberg's nature to make a big deal of things, and he doesn't want to spook you.
Eventually he nods, grunts in acknowledgement, and gets back to work.
Still, your words ring in his ears. Your voice fits you so well? He never really thought about what you sounded like before, but honestly now it's all he can think about.
Much later, when you almost forget about the whole thing, he'll offhandedly say he's proud of you for finally speaking up for yourself.
It's kinda condescending? But you know Heisenberg pretty well, and the fact he refuses to meet your eyes let's you know he's just being his normal, socially stunted self.
Thank him for the "compliment" and you'll get a pleased grin back, as well as a teasing hair ruffle. He's...happy you're comfortable with him.
It just makes your relationship feel even more right. ❤️
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