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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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Stranger danger (slasher!Konig x fem!Reader)

You never wanted to go to this stupid party. Turns out, you were right all along - it doesn't save you from this weird guy in a Ghostface mask though. Warnings and tags: Non-con, size difference, knives, slasher-y, slight degradation, obsessive Konig, yandere Konig, praise kink Word count: 3069 AO3

You told your friends you didn’t want to go to this stupid party. No one cared. You asked them for at least a funny group costume, and everyone agreed – only to bail at the fucking party, so you were the only one who went as a freaking ant from that one extremely sad meme. With a little handkerchief on a stick and everything. No one got it.

You told your friends that you wouldn’t want to get drunk unless they would be with you because, honestly, college parties are the worst, and you don’t want anyone to get roofied. They left you by the snack table, making you eat smarties and occasional chips like salt counts don’t exist.

You were munching on a particularly tough pretzel – the packaging was saying something in German, as exotic as this college could fucking get without being too scared of spices – when The Guy dropped himself on the couch next to you.

Yes, The Guy – because you were in no right to call him just a guy, a dude, a lil’ bro, or anything like that. He was way over 6 feet, probably creeping on being the new form of a fancy light post, and built like a bear that was eating nothing but protein and particularly tasty American tourists. Dressed in all black, very original, he must love spending time in various shops and choosing between 50 shadows of the same dark attire.

At this point, you were not surprised that he was wearing a Ghostface mask. At this point, you lost all of your capabilities to be surprised – only slightly intrigued, perhaps, and a little bit aroused when he manspreaded his legs and pushed his knee right against your leg, not stopping until he crammed you to the corner of a sofa. How the one man could take so much space, you had no idea. What he was eating to grow up this big – also.

He looked like at least three frat boys from a sports team crammed together in one body. Tight muscles that could be seen even through the bagginess of his clothes – you aren’t sure if you could survive looking at his pecks without wanting to give up all of your life earnings for a gym membership.

— Hey.

A master of flirting, you just needed someone to talk to.

The Guy didn’t respond.

You frowned – a typical college boy would already try to flirt with you, probably getting you drunk to get an easy lay for the next 10 seconds of pure physical exercise. If he wasn’t interested in a conversation, he probably shouldn’t have sat in your corner – unless he wanted to steal snacks, of course. Something in his figure told you that he would be a freaking hurricane in the snack aisle.

He smells like metal – weird, you think. Not like you wanted to smell him, of course not. You were just crammed in a really tight place against his shoulders, your nose forced to press into his shirt and inhale the deep scent of some generic perfume, a surprising hint at laundry detergent and cleaning supplies – and, of course, said metal.

You expected sweat and cheap booze – but this means it smells like a butcher and a cleaning lady at the same time.

To closer observation, he looked…nervous, almost. Hands fidgeting with a fake knife that he probably snatched from some Halloween supply shop – it’s surprisingly heavy looking, without that cheap shine that a lot of Ghostface costume knives have, and you feel almost endeared by the way he fidgets and spins the knife in his hands. Still, somehow, he looked anxious.

— Are you alright?

He continues to sit here silently. You fight the savior instinct inside of you, reminding yourself that you do not need to nurse and mother a grown-up college boy who is probably too high to talk right now or simply dozed off in his mask with no one to notice this – but still, something in his hunched posture made you feel…soft. Tender. This, or you’re too drunk to not be a doting mommy, since all of your friends ditched you and your sad ant cosplay to be slutty fish sticks.

— Ja, I’m fine.

German accent. This is a surprise for a college boy at this party. Guys who are usually visiting those places can barely speak English, so knowing German with that perfect weird accent of his makes you feel…things. Never too much for accents, you still sat a bit closer, your face pressed against his shoulder. Cheek smashed on his skin – he doesn’t say anything about extreme physical contact. You’re surprised at your own confidence.

— From which program are you?

— What?

— Like…which school. What do you study?

He paused. Flicks the knife in his hands – from this angle, it looks way too sharp for a simple plastic knife. Guy must be a crazy cosplayer who spends hours on trying to make foam and metallic paint look this realistic – you admire this level of nerdiness a little bit. With this skill, he could be more than a generic Ghostface.

He shrugs, leaving you without an answer. Alright, not much of a talker. Probably from computing, STEM boys always act like contact with females would make them pregnant.

— Are you enjoying the party?

— Ja.

— You came alone?

— Ja.

— What do you…alright, just tell me if I’m annoying. I’ll stop bothering you.

He chuckles – your cheeks are immediately heated when he presses his hand closer to your thigh. The actions is suggestive, and you don’t quite…don’t quite mind it. You always had a thing for masks, and his body resembles the one of a greek statue – you wouldn’t want to pass on this opportunity. Definitely not for sex, not the type to hook up with a random boy on Halloween, but maybe a sloppy makeout and some number exchange would take place.

König had different plans.

Honestly, you made it too fucking easy for him. Good girl, polite girl, nice girl who actually fucking asked him if he was alright because his hands were shaking from the adrenaline he got from killing some weird asshole trying to get a drunk girl in his bed. He was shaking because he knew he’d get away with it – there were so many drugs on the venue, police wouldn’t even want to open this rathole and try to search for a killer in that random ass city he got on a break after the latest contract.

You made it too easy – your weird costume, your sad face, and your attempts at caring for him actually made his blood boil from excitement, and his nerves(and his dick, throbbing in that baggy black pants) stir. You tucked in the corner, all by yourself, surrounded by loud noises and intoxicated people who couldn’t give less shit about your safety. He can slit your throat, and everyone would think it’s a costume.

He can…and he can also take a little treat for having such a good last mission. Might even take you with him if you’d promise to be a good girl and don’t fight him in the trunk of his car.

You can’t even scream when he pushes his hands on your throat, squeezing. You wanted to, he knew by the look in your eyes that there was a fire inside of you – so he extinguished it as fast as he possibly could, laughing at your pathetic attempts at fighting him off. Just like your friends, you are weirdly easy for him to handle. Just a bunch of drunk college mates, nothing compared to his experience. He’d say that he stood too low, so crazy on his leave, that he decided to search for the easiest prey imaginable, but sometimes you need to choose yourself and find some easy hobbies that you can partake in without taking too much from your psychological sources.

Sometimes, you just need to kill a bunch of drugged students and take home one of them – for mental health reasons. Konis is sure that KorTac would allow him to take you to the base if he’d prove that you are his psychological support pet. Maybe he could even share you with some of his officers as a treat. You’d be so sweet for Krueger, he can tell just from that terrified look on your face when he pushes his hands further, blocking your windpipe.

König is strong – stronger than anyone you know, probably. He knows how to use this strength for the better and for worse, and he isn’t afraid of pushing a bit too far, not enough to break you, but just freaking perfect to make you dazed and turn your brain into mush. So sweet for him, such tasty little noises and scratches of your nails on his gloved hands. He must leave some marks on you later since you’re so sweet to him now.

— Not so talkative now, Schatzi?

You squirm, trying to punch him right in his dick, and he only moans when your knees are jerking in a poor attempt at kicking his balls. If anything, it feels like a really nice massage. So fucking obedient for him, he can’t even imagine how cute you’ll look chained to his bed, forced to play his little girlfriend while he is searching for your friends to finish them off.

Taking off your clothes is ridiculously easy. Even while you decided not to wear a slutty costume for Halloween, the cheap fabric isn’t a good barrier between him and his desire to freaking crush you – he exposes your breasts, covering them with one of his hands right about now, keeping his other hand firmly seated on your throat. You whimper and cry as he plays with your soft buds, making them harden, undoubtedly creating a pool in your shorts. God, you’re beautiful like this.

He actually grieves wearing a mask that can’t be moved this easily – he’d love to munch on your breasts, to try your nipples with his tongue, and roll his teeth over your soft mounds. He can’t, not right now, at least – you’re not nearly broken enough not to tell the police about his face, and he doesn’t want you to close your eyes. Need to make sure you’ll see every inch of his dick.

His rough gloves are creating a weird but pleasurable pressure on your buds – you whine and sob as he pushes his hands to stimulate you more, not caring that you don’t want it. Tugging and teasing with his fingertips, you actually feel like you’re going crazy just from the way he is playing with your breasts. Pushing from side to side, touching soft flesh, not even allowing you to moan as every time you try to open your mouth, he grips your throat tighter.

When he is finally done playing with your boobs, you can almost feel bruises forming from his rough touches. You whine when he goes to rip your shorts – his touches feel like lava spreading between your legs, no matter how much you wanted him to stop, your tongue never came to actually beg him for it.

To his delight, you are soaking.

Your pretty pussy on full display for him – twitching and squeezing for nothing, poor thing, he might as well just push the finger already, stretching you out just enough to let you feel the burn without breaking you. König would love to just push his dick inside without all of these dancing around nothing, but he is aware of his size – and very, very aware of yours. Little things might not be as small as he likes to think you are, but you’re freaking tiny compared to him. Weak and fragile, you have no fucking excuse to just parade yourself like men around you aren’t a bunch of wolves that would love to rip you apart and fuck what remains.

You can barely breathe while he pushes his fingers inside, just one digit is enough to make you squirm under him. You’re wet, pussy damp from all of the juices – lack of oxygen makes you dumber, pliable, make you his best little thing in the world. A girl like you has no business going to parties and whoring yourself to a bunch of early alcoholics – you should stay at home, his home, cooking him dinner and warming his dick. Cleaning his knife after he’d gut some dumb fuck, making sure to get your tongue into all the sharp edges.

Scheisse, just the thought makes him harder than ever. Perhaps he needs to stop playing the nice guy and finally give you the pounding you deserve.

Tired of just holding his hand on your throat, he forces the blade of his knife to take its place. Not nearly enough to cut your skin, but a constant reminder – if you’re a bad girl and would try to escape, he might slit your fucking throat as easily as butter. If you’re a good girl, unlike your friends, he might just take you with him. What a beautiful option.

One finger turns to two very quickly – and, since he doesn’t stop you from moaning and talking, you finally gain your voice back. Poor girl, too dumb to understand that all of your little threats and cries and everything is just a fucking delight to his ears. Might as well record it for his alarm clock.

— Get…get off me!

Such a strong words for such a weak girl. He’d spank you right away, but his fingers are too busy playing with your folds, smearing your juices all over your clit and trembling pussy. You’re dripping like a slut, and it busts his ego – a fancy college girl like you, so wet and needy for a nasty criminal. He knows how to treat you right and has all the resources for it – but somehow, it feels like you’d enjoy being treated like his doll.

He can be sweet after he has fucked you raw.

— Please, you can’t…I won’t tell anyone if you just stop, I promise!

— Shatzi, why do you think I’d let you go after this?

— I…I will scream.

— Ja, you can scream. Do this for me, please.

He laughs as he plunges in, giving you sweet seconds to become accustomed to the feeling of his dick impaling you. Bulging in the outline of your soft tummy, another boost to his ego – just to think, he was so anxious about crashing this party, knowing it would be filled with prissy students who all get to live the life he dreamed of, but you made it all worth it. You’re sweet and fiery, and you grip him like a glove. No matter how wet you were and how much pre-cum he had leaked, you’re still tight for him. Too tight.

You scream when he plunges it, and you continue to scream when he pushes deeper, further, when he moves back a little bit, only to push forward again. His hand finds your clit, never stopping until you’re squirming and crying full-on under him. Such a shame he can’t kiss you, not with this stupid mask – he can only play with your slit and push a knife against your throat over and over again, never allowing the adrenaline in your system to run dry.

Over and over, pushing you further and further until he plunged inside fully – you’re so puffy around him, your pussy lips swollen and spread for him, your clit is throbbing from the pleasure he gives you. Getting you off like that is easy for him – but he has to make sure he isn’t taking it too far, not with how warm and tight you are. He hates being in a position of weakness, but you’re just so perfect, he can’t help but push further and further until you are a sobbing mess and he is on the edge of orgasm.

He forces himself to be slower, his pushes are more and more deliberate – he doesn’t want to cum so fast, even though the mix of your sobs and his adrenaline high from the killing almost makes it impossible. He doesn’t want to stop like this, so fucking easy, but you’re so welcoming and cute and…

— Please, please, don’t…don’t come inside, I’m not on the pill, I’m…

God, you’re so sweet for him. Did the devil finally give him his gift for Halloween?

He laughs as you sob softly, pushes you more and more, and your poor pussy is getting stretched far beyond its limits. He steals this orgasm from your decency, robs you of any accountability – you just lay here, under him, receiving his dick like a good girl you are. Couldn’t have it any other way, just wanted to have you pinned under his body forever.

Your orgasm is crushing, painful in a way – you're all too sensitive for a dick this large to impale you, you sob, and you cry, begging for him to stop before he’d cum inside. Your biggest nightmare is alive when he pushes the knife away from your throat, squeezing it again just so he can cum in the tightness of your hole.

He stays like this, connected to your deepest parts, for a good few minutes, dumb out after the orgasm. You try to squirm from under him, but he only laughs, slowly pushing away from your body. Just one load is enough to make your pussy all messy and even more wet. You’re so dirty for him, it’s actually impossible not to love you even more when you’re like this, dumb and sensitive and so, so fucking cute.

His cum drips from your overflown pussy, pearly white liquid stuffs you ever so perfectly, König laughs, putting his clothes back together and getting one last look at your ruined hole, clenching around nothing. You can’t even talk at this point, poor thing – just how can he leave you here to be found by your perverted friends who would only take advantage of you?

It’s only natural that he sneaks your limp body through the window, holding you like a beloved possession while he is getting in his car.

It’s only natural that you fall asleep in his arms, your pussy stuffed so full, he just knows that he’ll add to the mess once he’d get rid of the body of a dumb college guy he killed moments ago.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #cod x you #yandere cod #call of duty #slashers #slasher

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crishayle · 8 months

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Pluto in the houses

Disclaimer. This article touches on unpleasant topics for conversation. Please don't be sad when reading it. Thank you:)

Pluto is responsible in astrology for transformations, death, destruction, power, sex, crises. This planet is one of the most difficult to interpret the natal chart, because it shows skeletons in the closet.

Pluto in 1st house:

1.This is an indicator of mental endurance. Such people have experienced many terrible and difficult situations. For example, the death of loved ones,fire,drugs,alcoholism,depression,suicide attempts. Their life is filled with stages to which they try not to return. What's gone is gone.

2.I noticed that such people always have some unusual scar or birthmark, a mole on their face

3.Such people can really be a leader in a group or is in authority. The paradox is that they are most often not very talkative and energetic and don't like attention, but the people around them respect their opinion and often ask them for advice.

4.They love sarcasm and self-irony, as well as making fun of friends.

5.They have a high sense of empathy for people, so they feel lies or hypocrisy of the interlocutor well. This is a great placement for psychologists, tarologists or astrologers.

6.Most likely, such people have heard more than once that they have a heavy or tired look.

7.Pluto in the 1st house in the aspects with Mars, Mercury or the Sun can indicate manipulativeness, imperiousness and aggressiveness. Before doing this, please also analyse the other placements of the natal chart.

Pluto in the 2nd house:

1.An indicator of a great love for material things. Of course, everyone loves money, but not like people with Pluto in the 2nd house.Many of these people have deposits, are thinking about buying real estate or investing. Don't forget, Pluto is a planet of other people's money, so people with this placement are good in business and sales.

2.With tense aspects with other planets, this placement can mean greed, wastefulness, unwillingness to earn money on their own. Such people like to dream and do nothing.

3.Such people love antiques. I noticed that they can keep memorabilia, postcards and gifts from friends in a box for many years.

4.They always know how to save money. If you want to know where you can buy something at a discount, then ask them. Perhaps such people like second-hand shops.

5.I noticed that such people have faced fraud or theft.

6.Their thoughts often become material. I'm not talking about global dreams, for example, about buying a car. Such people may think about a new bag and get a bonus or an opportunity to earn extra money the next day.

7.Pluto loves change, so it's not surprising if people with this placement can move to another city to earn money. Such people could face difficult choices or risks to succeed.

Pluto in the 3rd house:

1.Good analytical skills. This is a good placement for people working in IT, engineering, economics and psychology.

2.With tense aspects with other planets, it may indicate poor memory, short temper and rebelliousness, problems with focusing attention.

3.My personal observation. This is an indicator that in childhood a person could be bullied, change schools, study martial arts. In general, such people are more likely than others to encounter toxic people.

4.This is a very good placement for speakers. Firstly, they know how to convey their message to the audience. Secondly, they have a pleasant voice (but you also need to look at other placements).Thirdly, such people don't like to be silent. For the same reason, I would advise them to keep a diary or write their thoughts and ideas in notes.

5.This is an indicator of an honest person. He will not lie out of courtesy or for selfish purposes. Ask him anything and you will hear his true thoughts.

6.This is a lover of heart-to-heart talk :)

7.Of course, you need to look at the other placements of the natal chart, but most often such people's brains work better in the afternoon or at night.

Pluto in the 4th house:

1.The 4th house in astrology represents family, childhood and mother. For an accurate interpretation, look at the sun and moon in your natal chart. This is an indicator of parents' divorce, constant moving, strained relations in the family. Such a person could receive insufficient love and attention from his parents. Often this is an indication of strict upbringing.

2.Good intuition. Perhaps someone on the maternal side had esoteric abilities.

3.He likes to do the interior of the house. The house for this person is the personification of his personality. The very type of people who start cleaning if they have a lot of stress or anxiety.

4.It is very important for this person to make friends with his inner child in order not to succumb to his desires. For example, you need to determine what is home and a sense of security for you, what is love and attention of loved ones for you, etc. Until you answer these questions, you will unknowingly create problems in your life.

5.This is a possible indicator of an inheritance or a precious family heirloom (but you also need to look at the 8th house in the natal chart)

6.If the other placements in the natal chart don't indicate a bad relationship with parents, then Pluto in the 4th house may indicate that a person had a strong mother. The child could admire her stress resistance, diligence, integrity.She is a complex, but very interesting person.

7.Such people have matured early. In childhood, they were wise children, with whom adults were surprised.

Pluto in the 5th house:

1.'Sorry,I'm anti-romantic".With tense aspects with other planets (especially Venus) this is an indicator of complete aversion to love. A person is afraid of relationships because of possible betrayal or low self-esteem (you need to look at the rest of the placements of the natal chart).

2.A great placement for actors. People like to watch their emotions and listen to them. Emotionality and a high level of empathy is expressed in artistry, which is noticeable even in ordinary conversation.It is not surprising that this placement is really found in many famous actors (Milla Jovovich, Robert Pattinson, Jon Voight, Lady Gaga)

3.Such a person can really select and create a new personality and image for a particular person, which causes problems in his personal life.For some, he is a cheerful extrovert, for others a homebody, for others an ambitious workaholic.

4.Most often, such people are jealous and demand passion and emotions in a relationship (but you need to look at Venus and the Moon in the natal chart)They want to literally get under their partner's skin and breathe the same air. Their love is constant, but very demanding.

5.Pluto is a planet of change, and the 5th house embodies creativity, so such people can be music lovers, often change their style of clothing and their appearance.

6.I notice that the language of love for such people is a physical touch.

7.A man who loves competitions. Firstly, they know how to win.Secondly, they have good endurance.Thirdly, they do not see obstacles.The only disadvantage is that a person can go against the rules and cheat.It's better not to argue with them.

Pluto in the 6th house:

1.Good immunity.A person rarely gets sick and he is physically hardy.(but you need to look at the rest of the placements)

2.The very kind of employee who wants to improve working conditions. He will not be silent if he is not allowed to go on vacation or on sick leave, not to agree to work overtime without additional pay. Responsible, but very demanding employee. Treats colleagues with respect, but tries not to start a friendship at work.

3.With tense aspects with other planets, this is an indicator of workaholism to your detriment. A person can harm his health due to lack of rest and sleep.

4.An indicator that a person may think too much about their health and body. Often Pluto in the 6th house is found in hypochondriacs, people with an eating disorder.

5.Often such people experience impostor syndrome, as they cannot fully accept their achievements.

6.This is a great placement for leadership positions.Such people know how to manage and motivate people.The only downside is that they can go too far and be too overbearing and demanding of their employees.

7.Their emotional state is stronger than that of other people, affects their health.The stomach and skin are especially vulnerable.

Pluto in the 7th house:

1.This placement is most often found in the natal charts of people who have experienced an unpleasant experience in love (divorce, toxic relationships, infidelity, death of a partner)

2.Many of them have a person who can unsuccessfully seek their hearts for several years.

3.With tense aspects with other planets, this is an indicator that a person can be sacrificial in a relationship. Sometimes I find this placement in the natal charts of people who have been subjected to domestic violence.

4.This is one of the indicators of late marriage.

5.The 7th house represents not only a partner, but also enemies. Such people could survive betrayal from the closest people, after which they began to experience trust problems.

6.A person who gives good relationship advice, but doesn't follow it himself.

7.Such people tend to fall under the influence of a partner. (but you also need to look at the other placements in the natal chart).It is important for them to learn to appreciate their hobbies, their character and their dreams, and not to change them because of a partner.

Pluto in the 8th house:

1.Fatalist. This man has been convinced more than once in his life that everything that is not being done is for the best.

2.An indicator of high libido (but you also need to look at Mars and the Sun).They are active and good at sex.

3.I noticed that these people always had a case when they almost died. Many of them had an accident.

4.They understood what karma is from birth. All the bad things always come back to them, as well as the best. Their enemies always get what they deserve.

5.Strong energy (somewhat similar to Pluto in the 1st house). During a conversation with them, you can be filled with energy for the rest of your life.They seem to be out of this world.

6.Possible mental problems.As well as psychological diseases (depression, ocd, adhd, etc.), and diseases of the central nervous system.Many of them suffer from insomnia, seizures or panic attacks (but for this you need to study the natal chart in detail)

7.Such a person is prone to hyperfixation on something. It is important for him to develop comprehensively so that his thoughts are not limited to one idea.

Pluto in the 9th house:

1.A person who likes to study other cultures.Perhaps he listens to a lot of foreign music, learns languages and watches travel shows.

2.There are two extremes here (you need to look at the natal chart).Or a person completely denies higher education and believes that it is not necessary in the modern world.Or on the contrary, he considers it the most important and seeks to get several.

3.A person who thinking on your feet.His mind is very active, but long-term memory can often be confused.

4.This is a person who is able to get information out of the ground.A good placement for detectives.

5.I often meet this placement in the natal charts of lawyers, police officers, people from social services.They try to change the world for the better because of a high sense of justice.Often there are philanthropists among them.

6.With tense aspects with other planets, such a person could be forced to move to another country or city because of poor living conditions.

7.A very inquisitive person. He's easy to learn on his own, so don't be surprised if he acquired most of his skills from the internet.

Pluto in the 10th house:

1.This placement is most often found in the natal charts of people whose profession literally saves someone's life (doctor, military, firefighter, etc.)

2.They are very purposeful and stubborn people. If they argue, they argue to the end. If they work, they definitely go for a promotion.The type of person who doesn't listen to someone's advice.

3.Such people tend to postpone some savings until old age.For example, to purchase additional real estate or find a source of passive income.In matters of finance, they think very big.

4.They respect reputable people, but they are not afraid of them.They don't care about your position, job and income, you will always be an ordinary person.

5.I noticed that these people are often stalked on social networks.People admire and envy them a little.

6.Their thinking is very practical.(but you need to look at the natal chart) Their logic gets the better of their emotions.They are not cold-blooded, but rather realists.

7.Such people are more likely than others to face rivalry at work or when applying to university.

Pluto in the 11th house:

1.Such people stopped communicating with people more often than others because of changes in their lives.

2.With tense aspects with other planets, such a person may fall under the influence of bad company or toxic friends.

3.This person believes in lifelong friendship and is looking for someone with whom he will be himself, but instead he is even more horrified with other people.

4.This placement is often found in the natal charts of volunteers, school/university activists. Such people like to work in a team and are often led by them.

5.Such people don't really like to express their opinions in a group (but you need to look at Mercury and the Sun).They would rather choose a compromise than defend their choice.

6.A good placement for influencers. Such people have more chances to gain popularity.

7.Also, with tense aspects with other planets, this is an indicator of a social phobe.A person does not trust and is afraid of people.He is comfortable in his loneliness because of trust issues.

Pluto in the 12th house:

1.A person who is used to asking for advice from others.It is easier for him to ask the opinion of several people, think about everything and only then make a decision.

2.This is a good placement for psychologists and psychiatrists. These people are interested in the human soul from a scientific point of view.Perhaps they are fond of philosophy and have read the works of famous psychiatrists and philosophers.

3.The people who keep secrets the best.And their own too:)

4.Such people need to periodically restore their energy while alone and turn off the phone. So don't be surprised if this person disappears for a week, he's just resting.

5.In such people, intuition works most strongly through dreams and signs. Pay attention to information from the outside.

6.Life seems to deliberately confront these people with their fears. Although these people do not seem at first glance brave and courageous, in fact they are very strong.

7.I noticed that such people prefer to work alone.

#astrology community #astrology #horoscope #zodiac #astro observations #astrology signs #astro community #natal chart #astrology blog #astrology notes #fyp #tumblr fyp #viral #pluto #planets

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eightstarr · 9 months

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baby — abby anderson.

summary: you're on patrol with abby and you make her squirt for the first time. you don't mean to make a habit out of distracting her, but in your defense, it's hard to focus on anything else when she looks so pretty all serious and focused on keeping you safe! and you are only so strong!

notes: i don't ever really write smut and it for sure shows but anyway here it is! what no one asked for! yet again! also excuse the surprising amount of feelings that are in this considering it's technically supposed to be porn? it wouldn't be me if someone didn't say i love you at least once tho

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

"Do you have a danger kink or something?" Abby asks, trying to sound cool, but her breathing's a little too staggered for that. You've got her backed up against a counter in a random kitchen of a lonesome, old house.

You smooth your tongue over her pulse and feel her shudder, your hands sneaking under her loose shirt to cup her waist, fingers squeezing adoringly. "Can't I have some fun with my girl?"

"Yeah, but—" Abby cuts herself off with a moan that's almost embarrassing considering how little you're touching her. "You did this last time, too. It's like you want to get caught."

"Caught by who?" You scoff, lifting your head to look at her, nodding once as a silent way to say up. She abides without thinking, her palms against the counter as she pushes herself up to sit on top of it. You're needy enough that you don't bother teasing, no 'good girl', no 'what would your soldiers think if they saw you be so obedient?'. You slot yourself between her thighs and continue your assault on her neck, fingers brushing over chest. "There's no one here, baby."

Baby is perhaps your biggest tell. You call her baby when she's been away for too long, when you've had a long day and show up at her door unannounced, in the morning when you've woken up from a dream that left you aching that you refuse to share the details of no matter how much she asks. 'Baby' means you're desperate. And 'baby' makes Abby pull you closer, because nothing makes her need you more than you being desperate for her.

She lifts herself up enough to let you pull her cargo pants and boxers off in one motion, and her heart skips a beat as you sink to your knees, guiding her legs over your shoulders. She used to fret about that, fret about a lot of things— but the admittedly ridiculous thought of accidentally squeezing you to death was up there. You'd made the stupid joke, as anyone would, at least I'd die happy. But when that didn't quite work besides earning a roll of her eyes and a slight smirk to her lips, you'd simply gotten back to work on making her cum on your mouth until she had no choice but to close her legs around you. And when she did, the movement mindless and needy, you groaned and left loving fingerprints on her thighs enough to reassure her that you liked it. Loved it. You loved a lot of things that Abby used to be insecure about.

The point is, she shouldn't be shocked to see you get down on your knees. It's not an entirely unfamiliar sight anymore, you've made sure of that. But even on the first time you fucked, with all the eagerness and want and sense of overdue of your affections, Abby doesn't think she saw you quite this ravenous.

It's like you're drunk on it, like you didn't have her in a way not too different from this just a mere two days ago. You eat her like you're fucking starving. Not pulling away to breathe, your nose brushing against her clit just right, moaning every time she bucks her hips or pulls your hair.

When Abby cums, she feels it in her chest. It sinks on top of her, a lovely heaviness, and then drops off of her all together and leaves her weightless. When you don't stop, she breathes out a chuckle that turns into a broken moan and buries her fingers back in your hair, half expecting you to pull away still. But time passes, drags on and speeds away much too fast all at once, and you don't.

She's saying your name, she thinks, or a sound as close to it as her mind will allow her to formulate. Abby knows she's loud by the way her noises are echoing through the empty room, mocking her. Before she can feel embarrassed by it, as if you can read her mind as easily as anything else, you drag your mouth down and fuck into her with your tongue in a way that she didn't know could feel so good before she met you. As quickly as it came, the shame is gone. Her lips part and her sounds grow louder still, spilling out of her carelessly. You want to reward her, you think somewhere in the back of your mind, want her to know how much you love it. It's a privilege to make Abby Anderson a mess, and it always makes you lightheaded with need.

You wrap your mouth around her clit and suck, and Abby lets go of your head for once to grab onto the counter and make a lame attempt to keep herself still, her knuckles white.

The pressure building in her low abdomen is familiar, but then your hand comes to lay flat against the exact spot and something about the weight of it makes the feeling twist into something different.

Abby gasps quick breaths, her eyebrows furrowed in vague confusion and enough pleasure to drown it out and soothe the meaningless pain of bumping her head back against the wall.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, barely legible. And it's fine, she thinks, it's just like every other time. But then she feels it start to unravel, finally, and it's the same but also not at all. "Fuck, wait, I think— fuck!" she's panting, shaking and forcing her gaze to refocus just to watch the way your eyes fall closed, the way your eyebrows furrow. You moan against her and the sound is loud even while suffocated, even though you've somehow managed to push your face closer to her, press your tongue deeper. Abby feels it gush out of her and it's nothing like anything she's felt before, so good and so much and she doesn't want it to ever end, even as she blabbers, "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You don't seem to hear her, hungrier than she's ever seen you— you look fucking possessed. You pull back and the sight of you is dizzying, embarrassing, and it's the only thing Abby wants to look at for the rest of her life. Your lips are glistening, yes, but so is your chin, your cheeks, her cum dripping down your neck. Your eyes are dark, more pupils than anything else, and they swallow her whole. You haven't pulled back too far, your breath still hot against her, but it's enough that you can replace your mouth with your fingers and rub on her clit. What's left in her comes out in soft spurtz, dripping onto the floor, and you couldn't tear your eyes away if you tried.

But Abby doesn't know that, doesn't know what you're thinking at all. You're surprised, but is it in a bad way? It must be. Are you disgusted? You're so covered in her that it feels like you'll never be able to wash it off, and Abby can't read your mind like you do hers, so she doesn't know that the thought thrills you, that your heart is fucking pounding in your chest, that your underwear is utterly and completely fucking ruined. You lick your lips and swipe your chin with the back of your hand, absentminded. Abby's thinking, begging, say something.

"Holy fuck," is all you can manage, a quiet mutter, breathless. Your fingers haven't stopped rubbing, but a whine and an especially forceful quiver of her legs makes you blink and you stop like you've just come out of a trance, your hand moving instantly to soothe up and down her thigh.

"I'm sorry," Abby repeats, and then you look at her face like you've just remembered it's there.

Look up at her like she's fucking crazy, like she's grown a second head, mumbling, "What?"

"I didn't— I tried to warn you," she says, even though she doesn't know that she could've. It felt so foreign, she wouldn't have known how to explain it, really.

You lower her trembling thighs from your shoulders carefully, not before pressing a kiss against each one, and then you stand up. Abby wonders if this is where you'll tell her you didn't like that, where you'll help her put her clothes back on and then you'll promise each other to never speak of it again. Instead, your eyes grow impossibly gentle, impossibly loving, and you tuck yourself closer between her legs. The hem of your jeans brushes against her core and she gasps, but doesn't move away. "Baby," you call softly, pecking her lips. "Has this never happened to you before?"

Abby feels a little like she's suffocating, the breeze coming in through the window you'd opened when you first came in not enough to soothe her anymore. But you brush your knuckles over the faint scar on her cheekbone and her shoulders grow limp, her body relaxing except for where she's shaking— fuck, she is still fucking shaking. She remembers your question and shakes her head.

You don't show her how embarrassingly proud that makes you, that you made that happen before anyone else did, because it's not the time. You tuck the feeling in your pocket for later and hum, barely resisting the urge to kiss her, to get back on your knees until they're bruised and make her cum in whatever form she'll give you all over again. "Did it feel good?" You ask, not mocking, but curious.

If she wasn't so embarrassed, Abby would've laughed. It is very possible, and the thought does nothing to ease her shame, that nothing has ever felt so good. But admitting that feels like too much, so instead she whispers, "Yeah."

You smile, happy, genuinely relieved. "Then what are you saying sorry for?" You ask, kissing her again before you can help it. "That's my fucking job. I want you to feel good."

The words alleviate like water to a small fire, and Abby feels silly for having forgotten that it's you who she's with. She's had the thought before, but it suddenly becomes more present than ever, practically breathing down her neck— that she wants to keep you forever. Keep is maybe a bad word for it. She wants to be around you forever, for as long as you'll let her, wants to move into your shitty apartment and make you breakfast and sleep every night in your cropped shirts that fit slightly too tight and make her look ridiculous. She ought to say she loves you more often, she thinks. You say it nearly every time you see her now, like the words have been bubbling inside you for too long and now they can't be kept away. It's a fairly fresh relationship, but the feelings are ancient for both of you, and it shows.

"I love you," Abby sighs, and presses her lips against yours before you can say it back. It's sloppy, she's barely starting to come down from her high, but you don't complain. You kiss her with vigor, like you're trying to spell it out with your tongue, I love you. When you pull apart, her eyes fall from your eyes to your chest and she winces, eyes squeezing shut as her forehead falls on your shoulder.

"What?" You ask, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head immediately, without thought.

"Your shirt," she mumbles against you. You glance down and let out a soft oh. The white fabric of your tank top is soaked, mostly near the neckline, sticking to your skin. You hadn't noticed. Abby lifts her head to look at you, freckled face flushed red, so pretty that you forget about the mess she made of you all over again. "You have to change. We can't go back with you looking like that," she says— or begs, more like.

"I didn't bring anything else with me," you tell her, humming appreciatively as you look back down at your chest, grinning. "Besides, this is my favorite shirt now."

Abby groans, the kind of whiney, timid sound that you could've never imagined her making before you become her girlfriend. The kind of sound that makes you weak in the fucking knees, needy and cotton-mouthed. "It's not funny," she hides her face in her hands and huffs, "'S embarrassing."

You're chuckling, but biting into your lip to stifle it when she lowers her head further down, chin against her chest. With careful touch, you wrap your fingers around her wrists and guide her hands away from her face, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her skin is hot beneath your lips, and you hum at the feeling of it. She's usually so cold, your Abby, freezing fingers sneaking under your shirt at night and making you shudder. It's a pleasure to make her warm, an honor to see her shy. You love her so much it tugs at you, a constant reminder.

"You're a dream, Abby. Fucking perfect," you say, as clearly as you can while dragging your lips down her neck. She's the hottest thing you've ever laid eyes on, so beautiful that sometimes you can't sleep, too excited that she's there next to you to ever close your eyes. And you need her to know, but you're not really one with words, so all that comes out is, "Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants, you know that?"

Abby moans. Her breath gets caught in her throat as you suck marks into her neck and she finds that she couldn't care less right now, about the evidence that'll be left on her skin or your stupid wet shirt. She guides your face up with a hand on the back of your neck, and kisses her flavor off your lips until she can't anymore, until her lungs burn and her lips tingle. Your voice echoes in her head. Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants. Nearly, she thinks. That doesn't sound very fair.

Thick fingers make quick work of your zipper, trailing over your lower tummy and sneaking under your underwear. She's a little fast, but you've never minded. Sometimes she'll notice and force herself to slow down, to savor, but most of the time her mind doesn't let her catch up to it. Like now. She can't worry about looking clumsy or overly-enthusiastic, because she just needs to feel you. Because she wants to check that you weren't lying, that she could've made you cum without ever touching you— and it's there, the overwhelming fucking truth of it soaking her hand. You gasp at the contact, and Abby's thighs squeeze you in place, as if you'd ever leave. "Jesus Christ," she pants. She finds herself saying it a lot lately. Jesus Christ. Oh my fucking God. Calling upon figures she doesn't believe in, delusional enough to think for a second that they'll bring some kind of comfort, release her of her sins.

You're so wet that it doesn't take more than a minute for her confidence to slowly grow back, so wet that it doesn't take more than two to make you cum. It's the fastest she's ever seen you fall apart, and it wouldn't be Abby if her immediate thought (right after that was so fucking hot) wasn't bet I can make it quicker. Her ego fizzles in her chest, warm and euphoric. Abby thinks she doesn't remember the last time she felt as proud about something as she does every time she makes you feel good. Isaac's occasional pat on her shoulder and mutter of 'good job' is laughable in comparison, as is the high of working herself till she's covered head to toe in sweat at the gym, as is everything else.

It might be the honeymoon phase the movies talk about. You slowly catch your breath and raise your head from her shoulder to look at her with the same adoration as you did when she kissed you for the first time, and Abby has a hard time believing that the feeling will ever go away. Movies get a lot of things wrong, anyway.

She's walking slower than usual on your way back home, her steps sluggish, and you're sweet enough to only make fun of her for it a little bit. One comment here and there, earning a scoff when you lean closer and offer to carry her bride style, a badly stifled laugh when you hum thoughtfully and wonder out loud about what Owen must be doing right now.

Her fingers are interlaced with yours and normally she would've let go by now, a little sheepish to show that much vulnerability in front of the people who are supposed to respect her, but the thought doesn't even cross her mind. You crack another stupid joke and she giggles like she did when she was a kid, silly and sweet, tugging your hand to her lips to kiss the back of it.

Manny looks you up and down as soon as you cross the gates, dark eyebrows raised. "The fuck happened to you?" He asks. You look at him with a confused frown and wait for him to clarify, "You're wet."

Abby's stiff as a board where she stands next to you, her quick blinking the only evidence that she hasn't actually been frozen in place by some kind of magic spell.

You're much more casual. "It's fucking hot. I poured some water on myself to cool off."

Manny hums. He's seen you do it before, maybe that's why he doesn't question it. He does note, though, the suspicious way in which Abby walks silently and swiftly past him with her eyes pointedly on the floor. Her hand is tight around yours still, and you follow because— well, of course you do.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #tlou fic #abby anderson x female!reader #abby smut

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roosterforme · 2 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Without you at home, Bradley's big mouth is about to get him in trouble. As he counts down the hours until he can pick you up from the airport, you wrap up your trip to Maryland with a visit to your childhood home. However, you're not as smooth as you think you are. By the time you get back to San Diego, you are an absolute train wreck, and some secrets have been revealed.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

On Thursday morning, Bradley got to work a little bit early. He just needed to make a tiny detour to one of the database computers. He really wasn't sure if you realized that you told him Commander Patterson's first name last night, or if you let it slip by accident, but now that he knew it, he just wanted to check him out.

Every trip you took to Annapolis turned into some sort of disaster at one point or another. He couldn't imagine you were out there looking for trouble, but it sure did find you in the form of Derek or Josh. You were the most capable person Bradley knew, but he loved and respected you enough to know that sometimes you needed a break. Right now, he just wanted to bring you back home and take care of every tiny need or want that you or the baby might have. He'd honestly fucking delight in that.

As soon as he logged into the system, Bradley typed in your full name, complete with Bradshaw hyphenated at the end. A second later, your image appeared on the screen complete with lovely smile and gorgeous eyes. "That's my Baby Girl," he muttered, still captivated by this photo of you.

He forced his fingers back to the keyboard, but no results appeared when he looked for Derrick Patterson. He tried Paterson. Then he tried Derick. Then he tried Derek Patterson and saw the face of the asshole who made his wife cry over a steak dinner. Were you more emotional right now than perhaps you would usually be? Absolutely. But that was only because you were pregnant. As soon as you told him you had a positive pregnancy test, Bradley's number one concern in this world simply switched from his wife to his wife and his child.

This guy looked like a real tool. Forty-four years old. Ranked up to Commander two years ago. Worked in a simulation lab. Had the same degrees from the Naval Academy that you earned. "Yeah, well I can guarantee you're not as smart as her, you motherfucker."

He took another minute to memorize what he saw there before logging out. Maybe he'd ask Maverick about him. Cyclone and Warlock would be good resources, too. Bradley just hated that he wasn't able to make you feel safe and comfortable at the moment, but as soon as he picked you up tomorrow, he'd take care of everything.

When he started to head out to the tarmac, he literally ran into someone while he was adding steaks to the grocery list he saved in his phone. He didn't know how to cook a steak, but he'd get them just in case you were still in the mood for one. "Sorry," he muttered, not really looking up, too concerned with what else you might want.

"It's okay, Bradley."

Then he did look up into the dark eyes of Maria Wilson. "Hey," he said with a smile at your good friend. "I've been meaning to ask you... how's rooming with Bob going for you?"

"Great," she replied with a little shrug and a completely neutral expression. "He's clean and courteous, and I think the arrangement is going to work out really well."

If he didn't know better, Bradley would have believed nothing was going on. She was that good. But he did know better. He wasn't going to do Bob dirty, so he just nodded and said, "I hope it does work out. I've always felt a little bad about stealing my wife away from you."

She just laughed and said, "Like we didn't all see that coming a mile away."

He wandered off with a grin on his face after he said goodbye. He was planning on making a few stops on the way home before Jake showed up to workout together later. Bradley just had to get through one more night and then you'd be back.

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

You were an idiot for eating two steaks and seventeen pounds of sides and then passing out for the night. Sure, at the time, it seemed like the best idea you'd ever had. Derek's porterhouse hit the fucking spot like nothing else. The potatoes were creamy and delectable. The brussels sprouts? A thing of beauty.

But Thursday morning, you were back to your normal routine of throwing up as soon as you got out of bed. "I get it, okay?" you gasped as you sprawled out on the bathroom floor. "I understand," you added, letting your hand settle on your belly. "You miss your Dad. Well guess what. I miss him, too. Now will you stop acting out if I promise to take you home tomorrow?"

A soft gurgle as your stomach started to settle was the response you got, and that was actually better than you could have hoped for. When you heard tapping on your hotel room door, you knew it was Cat, and you wanted to cry. You were wearing Bradley's UVA shirt and a pair of your ratty underwear and nothing else, and she'd just keep knocking until you answered.

"I'm coming," you moaned, actually crawling most of the way there. You pulled yourself up and then cracked the door open a few inches, and you were met with Cat's appraising eyes. "Hi."

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to get breakfast with me," she said cautiously.

"No, I'm good, but thanks for asking." You tried to close the door, but her foot was immediately preventing that.

"Are you sick?" she asked. "I can bring something back for you."

"No, I'm okay," you told her. Your stomach lurched, and your eyes went wide. You had about ten seconds to get rid of her and make it to the toilet. You didn't know what to do as saliva pooled at the back of your tongue. You started to gag as your eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," she said softly. "If something's wrong, you can tell me."

But you shook your head and let go of the door, making a mad dash back into the bathroom. You barely made it to your knees in front of the toilet before you barfed again. "Why?" you moaned, wiping your mouth with toilet paper before rolling onto the bath mat which had become your best friend.

"Oh my god," Cat muttered as she walked right into your hotel room bathroom. She flushed the toilet and then turned to the sink and started to fill one of the disposable cups with water. "You're pregnant," she stated plainly. "You could have told me, you know. Congratulations, by the way."

As she knelt on the floor next to you, she helped you sit up. You accepted the cup from her and said, "It's just food poisoning." She blinked at you a few times, giving you no wiggle room to lie to her. "Fine," you admitted with a little smile, "I'm pregnant."

She ran the backs of her fingers along your forehead while you sipped the water. "How far along are you?"

"About nine or ten weeks," you whispered as you closed your eyes for a few beats. "I'm just really tired and really fucking sick. I felt good last night, but now I feel terrible again."

Cat took the empty cup from your hand and wrapped you up in a soft hug. "Thank you for holding it together for the presentation. Now you need to get back into bed."

You shook your head and said, "I need to get up and moving so I can go see my parents later."

"No," she said firmly, guiding you back to the bed. "You need to rest right now. You'll feel better if you do."

Part of you wanted to make sure your suitcase was closed so she didn't see your vibrators, but mostly you didn't even care. She had a certain way about her that was calming you down, and as soon as you were in the bed, she tucked you in. You almost believed her when she told you that resting would help you feel better.

"Where's your room key?" she asked once you were curled up on your side.

You let one hand sneak out from under the covers and pointed. "Next to the TV."

She patted your shoulder and promised she would be back soon, and then she was gone. You dozed on and off while your stomach gurgled, and you missed a few texts from Bradley. When Cat eventually opened your door and let herself in, you were actually feeling hungry. And that's when you noticed two bags and a cup carrier in her hands.

Quietly, she set everything down on your nightstand including some orange juice that almost brought a tear to your eye. Somehow she knew that was what you needed when you didn't even know yourself. You sat up as she poked a hole in the lid and handed it to you, and you drank half of it down in one sip.

"You need to eat something," she whispered, taking the cup away again. "I got you a bagel with cream cheese, an egg sandwich, a few different kinds of donuts and a muffin."

You reached for the bagel, and she unwrapped it for you. "I'll pay you back," you rasped, but she shook her head.

"Don't worry about it. Just make the baby happy, and we're square," she replied as she sank down into the chair beside the bed.

But you were definitely going to worry about it. Money was very tight for Cat and Jeremiah, so you would have to figure out a way to make it even. She probably spent about forty bucks on all of this for you, and somehow she knew that a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese would go down as happily as the steaks did. You devoured the whole thing and then took some bites out of the egg and cheese sandwich before finishing the orange juice.

Then you drank some of the hot tea as well and nibbled on a muffin, and you felt so much better. Cat asked you a few questions, but she didn't pry. "Bradley must be over the moon," she said softly with a sad smile.

"Oh yeah," you told her, knowing that her ex-husband did not have a relationship with Jeremiah. "He dubbed the baby the chicken nugget." When she laughed, you added, "He's very excited to be a dad."

"He'll be a good one," she confirmed with a nod. "Now why don't you rest for a few more hours, and then I can drop you off at your parents' house so you don't have to drive."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'll drop you off and then go to the outlet mall. There are some things I want to get for Jer, and then I can pick you up again." She probably knew it wasn't a good idea to let you drive like this, and you were honestly kind of thankful that she offered.

"Alright." You fell asleep again as soon as she was gone.

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

When Bradley left work, it was blazing hot out, and he had his aviators on while he walked to the parking garage. It was already late as hell in Maryland, and he was a little afraid you had already left your parents and gone back to the hotel for the night. But your phone only rang briefly before you answered his FaceTime call.

"Bradley," you sighed, looking better than he'd seen you in weeks. "Here, say hi to everyone."

You turned your phone to reveal both of your parents along with Cat, sitting around the dining room table in the house where he was finally getting used to spending his holidays. They all greeted him warmly before your mom took the phone and asked him at least a dozen questions.

"Are you eating enough without her at home? How's work? How's Tramp? When can we come visit again, because she's not giving us a clear answer?"

She said nothing about the baby, so Bradley assumed you were holding yourself together well enough that it hadn't been mentioned. "I've been subsiding on cereal. Work is great. Tramp is great. I've been thinking about starting a project to expand the upstairs into another bedroom or two, so hopefully after that's finished, you and dad can stay as long as you want."

Bradley knew they would feel like a handful for him if they stayed at the house again, but that was only because he liked being alone with you. He really wanted to take a minute to talk to you privately, but your dad took the phone next so he could show off his latest painting project. When he finally got handed back to you, apparently it was time for you and Cat to head out.

"I'll let you know when the flight leaves tomorrow," you told him. "Love you, Roo."

And that was it. With a deep sigh, he started up the red Bronco and headed to the store on his way home. He hated shopping in his uniform; he always got a bunch of looks from people, mostly women. He tried to make it quick, but it took him a little time to gather up steaks, potatoes, garlic, your favorite coffee, and all of the yellow flowers in the floral section.

He barely had all of the food put away at home when Jake knocked twice on the front door before letting himself in the house. "It's like he fucking lives here," Bradley muttered to Tramp who had been waiting for his scoop of dinner before he ran to see Jeremiah.

"Hey, man," Jake called out. He had Cat's son tucked under one arm and some weird contraption under the other, and he was wearing gym clothes. "Did you just get home?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied, unable to keep himself from smiling when Jeremiah reached out for him. He took the little boy in his arms and told him, "I had to get some stuff for my wife. You remember her. She's your favorite babysitter. She read you some books while you fell asleep, because her voice is the sweetest thing in the world."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Angel made you soft, old man."

Bradley pointed to Jeremiah. "And this little thing made you soft, so you don't have a leg to stand on."

He just kind of shrugged in response and took the child back as he said, "Go get changed. I'll meet you in the garage."

As Jake disappeared through the sliding glass door, Bradley headed to the bedroom. He stripped out of his uniform and put on some shorts and a Top Gun shirt that was starting to fit a little snug across his biceps and chest again. This was a good sign, because he wanted to bulk up as much as possible. He'd be ready to haul the baby and all of the gear around so you didn't have to.

His thoughts were on you and the baby. You. Baby. You. Baby. He couldn't wait until both of you were home tomorrow. When he walked out to the garage, he found Jake doing a few pushups while Jeremiah played with a stuffed tiger while he sat in some sort of portable crib.

"What is that thing?" Bradley asked as he reached for his lifting gloves. "A mini crib?"

Jake jumped to his feet as he said, "It's called a pack 'n play, but yeah, it's kind of a mini crib that folds up."

"Huh," he replied, eyeing it up so he could search online for that kind of thing later. "Looks handy. We're definitely going to need one of those."

Jake was frozen in place, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. "Is Angel pregnant? I knew her ass looked bigger." A grin curled along his lips, and that was when Bradley realized he had fucked up.

"Oh, shit," he muttered as his heart rate sped up and he started to sweat. You were going to be so upset. Your own parents didn't even know yet, but now Jake did, and it was all his fault.

"She's pregnant!" Jake practically shouted. "Congratulations, Rooster," he said, pulling Bradley into a hug and slapping him on the back. "You finally figured out which hole to put it in, huh?" he asked with an absolutely obnoxious grin.

Bradley glared at him. "Seriously. Nobody else knows about this yet. She might murder me if she finds out you know."

"I won't say shit about it," Jake promised, cuffing him on the shoulder before releasing him. "Damn, she must be excited. I know you both wanted this."

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just knowing his face must be flushed pink. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm so fucking happy and scared and nervous, I can barely make it through a day without her here, you know?"

Jeremiah roared and held up the tiger for Bradley. He took it and made it roar back before pretending it was kissing Jeremiah all over his face. His laugh was infectious, and it left Bradley smiling.

"Damn," Jake drawled. "I think you're ready for the parenting thing."

"I know I am," he replied, fixing him with a serious look. "I'm ready."

Jake sighed and nodded. "But you still have a lot to learn. Do you know about outlet covers?"

Bradley's eyes went wide. "No. What are those?"

"How about white noise to help a baby sleep? Do you know what a convertible car seat is?"

"No," Bradley whispered, "No, I don't."

Jake settled back onto the bench and reached for the barbell. "Spot for me, and I'll tell you everything I've learned."

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

It was finally Friday morning, and Cat was knocking on your door with another round of food and orange juice before you were even out of bed. When you let her in, she set everything up on the nightstand while you went to use the bathroom, and you were pleasantly surprised that you didn't need to throw up while you were in there.

"Eat as much as you can," she told you. "I asked them to give you a late checkout, so you can stay here until noon, and then we'll head to the airport."

"You're a saint," you told her with a mouth full of bagel. "I owe you so much money for this, you have to let me pay you back."

She just shook her head. "I'll let you babysit Jer so Jake and I can go out one night. Assuming I'm still in a relationship after we get bad to San Diego later tonight."

"You will be," you told her as you sipped the orange juice. "Jake isn't stupid." You paused before you set the juice down in favor of a donut. "Well... he's kind of stupid, but not when it comes to this."

Cat reached into the bag for another donut. "Seriously, if he and Bernie can't figure their shit out, I'll pull the plug and never look at another man again."

"Sometimes they really aren't worth the aggravation," you remarked, thinking back to every guy you dated before Bradley. "But sometimes they surprise you."

She didn't say anything else as she finished her donut. Then she let you take a nap, and when you got up and got dressed, you felt pretty amazing. Your stomach was gurgling quietly, and you looked okay enough to skip the makeup today.

You dragged your suitcase out into the hallway and texted Bradley, letting him know you were going to be heading to the airport soon, and he responded almost immediately.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: i'll meet you in baggage claim sweetheart. i can't wait to have you and the nugget back home with me

You practically moaned, and also started tearing up as Cat met you in the hallway. "When willI I be normal again?" you whispered. "All I want to do is have rough, frequent sex with my husband, but every time I think about how sweet he is, I start crying."

She laughed and said, "You won't feel normal until about six months postpartum. Just have fun running that man ragged."

You nodded and wiped at your tears. "Where's our equipment bin?"

"Already in the car."

"You weren't supposed to move it alone! It's so heavy."

"And you shouldn't be carrying anything like that at all," she scolded, pushing you gently toward the elevators. "I took care of it. I'll take care of it all day, and I'll get your suitcase when we get to the airport, too."

You sobbed the whole way down in the elevator and most of the ride to the airport. When you said thank you, Cat told you to be quiet which made you smile and also cry more. You'd get Bradley to agree to watch Jeremiah for a whole weekend. It would give the two of you some practice, and it would give Cat and Jake time alone. There was no way he was going to mess anything up.

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

Bradley parked the red Bronco at the airport with a vase of flowers in the cup holder and an ultrasound picture tucked into the visor. Your flight had been delayed a few times, and he figured you were probably starving now. He picked up the container of peanut butter crackers he prepared and started to head inside, still a little too early but with nothing better to do.

He found an empty bench, and it wasn't long before Jake came strolling in with Jeremiah in his arms. Bradley stood up, jostling the snack container as he muttered, "You're not going to say anything to her, right?"

"Relax," Jake replied as Jeremiah reached for the crackers. "I won't say a word about her being pregnant. You can count on me."

That actually made him feel a lot more nervous as he opened up the container, broke a cracker in half and handed it to Jeremiah. "Okay. Just pretend you don't know a thing about it."

He watched Jeremiah get crumbs all over Jake's shirt as Jake checked his phone. "Sure. Hey, they landed. Cat said they're walking off the plane now."

Bradley checked his phone, but there was absolutely nothing from you, which was really strange. "Huh." He stood there awkwardly as he'd been left out of the loop, handing the other half of the cracker to Jeremiah when he reached for it.

He watched Jake typing one handed, and then he said, "Apparently there was a ton of turbulence. Angel got pretty sick." When he met Bradley's eyes, he kind of shrugged. "Sounds like she's in bad shape."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair until it was sticking up at an odd angle. "What's that supposed to mean? How is she in bad shape?" He looked over toward the partition that blocked off the area he wouldn't be able to get past without a boarding pass while he started to panic. Was he going to have to take you to the hospital or something? The cereal and potato chips he had for dinner started to sour in his stomach as he started walking in that direction.

Then he saw you, and he started running. Cat had her arm around you, and she was carrying your tote bag along with her backpack while you sipped a can of ginger ale through a straw. Bradley could see fresh tears in your eyes as they met his. "Oh, Sweetheart."

"Roo," you croaked, and he closed the rest of the distance to you and carefully took you in his arms. "I was horrible."

Cat took the ginger ale from your hand, and you collapsed against him, a sobbing, shaking mess. "It's okay," he promised you. "You're home now, and I will take care of everything."

You nodded against his chest, and he let you cry. "I threw up so much. I was fine, but then it was really rough, and the baby hates me anyway." You cried harder, and then Jake was there with Jeremiah. He took the container of crackers so Bradley could rub your back with both hands. You hiccupped against him and mumbled, "You can say what you want. Cat knows. She guessed it. Then she took care of me."

Bradley wasn't surprised in the least that someone who had been pregnant before was able to tell that you were now. "Okay," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. He held you close and gave both Cat and Jake a stern look. "Do you want to go ahead and tell Jake?" he asked carefully.

"Yeah," you groaned, leaning toward Jake slightly. "I'm pregnant."

If Jake didn't get Bradley out of this debacle safely, he was going to ban him from the home gym. But he should have known that above anything else in this scenario, Jake was going to have your back.

"Aww, Angel," he crooned as Jeremiah climbed into Cat's arms. "I'm so happy for you, mama." Then he kissed your cheek and winked at Bradley. "You'll be a natural, and ol' Rooster here's gonna be a class act. Now why don't you let him take you home? I can get the bin of your work stuff."

"You sure?" Bradley asked, giving Jake a discreet fist bump as you buried your face against his chest again. You were half burrowed inside his tropical print shirt at this point, and his undershirt was damp; he just wanted to get you home.

"We'll take care of it," Cat promised. "She's dehydrated. Make sure she drinks water or gatorade. And she needs to try to eat something." Jake handed the crackers back to Bradley. "Yeah, those might work, but she really needs to keep drinking."

"Got it," Bradley replied, kissing your forehead. "Thank you, Cat."

"It was my pleasure," she said with a smile as she cuddled Jeremiah.

"Let's go, Baby Girl," Bradley whispered, leading you to get your suitcase as you sipped the ginger ale and nibbled on a cracker. He kept his hand at the small of your back as you sucked in deep breath after deep breath. "I'll get you home and into bed as quickly as possible."

You sniffed and looked up at him. "I just want you with me. That's all I wanted all week."

Your lips quivered, and Bradley leaned in to kiss you as softly as he could. "That's all I wanted, too. I'm not going to leave your side." He kept you right there with him as he scooped up your luggage, and then he had his arm around you until he got you to the Bronco. With a kiss to your perfect cheek, he opened the door, helped you in, and buckled your seatbelt.

"Thanks, Roo," you sighed, eyes closed as you leaned back against the headrest, already looking more serene now that you and he were together.

"I would do anything for you." He stroked your belly with his fingertips. "Both of you."

Five minutes into the drive home, you were sound asleep, your fingers laced with his.

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

I can already feel how much calmer she is just knowing she doesn't have as much to worry about with Bradley by her side. And he's going to be so much less stressed with her at home. It's looking like next chapter could be the last one in this series!!!! I'm hoping to do some one-shots for them and then pick up with another series? Please let me know what you'd like to see during and after her pregnancy. And thank you for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 35

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holdmytesseract · 7 months

Text

When a God Loves a Woman

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N (Pre-Relationship)

Summary: Loki and you get paired up on a mission, much to the god's dismay - but not because he doesn't like you, no... Quite the opposite. He's hopelessy in love with you. How is he supposed to get through this mission?

Warnings: Loki being a cute idiot in love, pining/bit of mutual pining, a few suggestive things, fluff, swear words, thirst? short mention of weapons? short mention of drugs, mentions of a w*nst - blink and you'll miss it

Word Count: 5,5k

a/n: This is a request from my wonderful friend @fictive-sl0th ! 🥰❤️ I hope you are going to like it - and everybody else, of course as well! 😁

Baby Fever Crew: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @loz-3 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @xthatpottahfanx @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @lokiforever @crimson25 @kimanne723 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @noideakitten @zombiesnips-blog @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @princess-ofthe-pages @coldnique @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"No. Absolutely not," Loki stated; crossing his arms over his chest. Tony blinked in disbelief. "What does that mean 'No'? Are you kidding me, Laufeyson?" The god squinted his eyes at his 'team colleague'.

"You must be deaf - or stupid, metal man... Perhaps even both. No... I said no." Tony growled; was already annoyed. "Thin ice, Reindeer Games, thin ice." The billionaire took a few threatening steps closer. "Listen. I don't care what you want, princess. You are the one who needs to prove himself to Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D - and basically the whole world. So if you don't want to end up home and get send into a cell by daddy, you should cooperate now." Loki's jaw clenched; knowing that Tony was unfortunately right. "I'm calling the shots at this mission - which needs to be a success, and if I'm telling you to team up with Y/L/N, then you're going to fucking do it. Are we clear?"

The god was positively fuming with anger - and despair (which Tony didn't notice). "Yes," he hissed. If looks could kill...

It's not that Loki didn't want to team up with you. In fact, he wanted nothing more in his life - and exactly that was the problem. About a year had passed now since he'd been sentenced to prove himself worthy and make up for the chaos he had caused. He became an Avenger - no matter if he liked it or not. It was his only chance to escape the dungeons on Asgard.

It had been a bitter pill for the god to swallow; without a doubt.

Earning the team's trust wasn't easy. Everybody despised him; was suspicious - except you. From the first day he arrived at the Avengers compound, you tried your best to give him a warm welcome. You were nice, kind and sweet. At first, Loki didn't like this at all; thought it was just a fake show you put on. A little game you played or something. After all, why should you have mercy? Why would you accept him? It simply couldn't be.

So, Loki pushed you aside - several times; cold-shouldered you. But you stayed stubborn and continued to treat him friendly - like he deserved and didn't let yourself get shoved away by the god for long. It took a lot of time (and energy), but at some point Loki realised that your intentions were pure. You really meant it. He realised, that you gave him something what nobody else did... A second chance. And from then on, he let you in. Step by step, of course, and slow, but he did.

He talked more to you, spent more time with you, trained together with you - and at some point it came how it had to come... Loki fell in love. Hard. Something he wasn't willing to admit, of course. Norns, he'd rather die than admitting that he fell in love with a Midgardian woman. He also didn't want a single soul to get a whiff of this, so his mission was to keep it a secret - no matter what it took.

The problem was, that preserving this secret turned out to be more difficult than Loki thought. It wasn't easy for him to keep his cool around you; given the fact that he didn't feel this kind of love for ages. By Odin's beard, he felt like a lovestoned teenager! Therefore, he tried to avoid being too close to you - not always successfully, though...

"Good boy."

Tony's words brought Loki back down to earth; out of his head. He clenched his jaw. The anger flooding through his veins was back. Full force - but nevertheless, he tried to control his temper and keeping his mouth shut.

"Why don't you like to be in a team with Y/N anyway? I thought you two get along quite well - or did I misinterpret the situation? Do you have a problem with her?" Tony asked suspiciously. Loki blinked. "No, I-" Before he could say something he'd regret later, the warning bells in his head started to ring at a deafening volume; causing his brain to switch into defence mode immediately.

"I mean yes. Yes. I don't like her. She's annoying me."

The billionaire frowned; crossing his arms over his chest. "You're confusing me, Reindeer Games. No, then yes. Geez, you're worse than a diva. Do you have a problem now with Y/N, or not?" Loki was a hairsbreadth away from grabbing Tony by the lapels of his shirt and throwing him against the nearby wall of the conference room.

"Yes," the god hissed. "I can't stand her." To say those words hurt him deeply; his heart wincing in pain - but for Loki, there was no other way.

"Well..." For a moment, Tony's expression was understanding and almost soft - but then he shrugged his shoulders. "Your problem. The teams are set. I don't care. Make it work." With those words and another shrug, the billionaire turned on his heels, walked away, "See you tomorrow, princess." and left the room.

Loki's eyes followed him, before he squeezed them shut; shaking his head. A sigh left his lips. "How foolish..." He mumbled. "How foolish of me to think Stark would cooperate." Running a hand through his raven curls, he returned to his room. Tomorrow was going to be a hard day for him...

The next day arrived way too quickly - and Loki had slept way too less and spent the whole day thinking about that damn mission, causing him to be the first to stand by the Quinjet; waiting for his 'team mates'. It was an awkward situation. Usually, he was never the first - except today.

Tony arrived only ten minutes later; a shit eating grin spreading over his whole face as he saw Loki. "Well, well... Eager, are we, Reindeer Games?" Loki just rolled his eyes; certainly didn't have the nerves for the billionaire's stupid little games.

"Mind your own business, Stark."

Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Oooh and we're already in diva mode?" The god clenched his jaw; was about to say something not exactly nice to the billionaire, when a booming voice cut through the air. "Ahhh, brother!" It was Thor, of course.

The god walked over to Loki and Tony with a broad smile on his face. "Finally, the time has come! We're on a mission again together!" He said happily, giving Loki a harsh slap on the shoulder. Loki coughed, "Yes, brother, I am thrilled." and glared at Thor - who didn't even notice his younger sibling's discomfort.

"Ah! Don't fret, brother!" Loki rolled his eyes subtly; already questioning his life choices. But when he crossed his arms over his armour clad chest and slightly shook his head, the god's eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of somebody approaching the team. It was Natasha - and you. Loki's gaze immediately got stuck on you - against his will; eyes widening. "This is going to be..." Thor's words faded as Loki's mouth fell agape and suddenly the world seemed to turn in slow motion around him.

You walked casually beside the Widow; your Y/H/C untamed hair flying in the wind. Unlike Natasha, you wore a white and black body suit. Several pockets were attached to it. For comms, weapons and other gear. It was tactical and convenient, but also form-fitting and especially tight. It showed off your curves to perfection - and by the holy roots of Yggdrasil... You looked stunningly sexy. Not that Loki didn't see you before in your mission gear - but you had never worn something like that before.

"Norns, give me strength..." Loki whispered, before he was able to prevent it; attracting Thor's attention. "What did you just say, brother?" "Nothing!" Loki almost shouted in slight panic, before clearing his throat. Get a hold of yourself, Laufeyson!

"I mean... Nothing. I didn't say a word."

What the god didn't think of, was that his eyes were still locked on the beautiful woman only a few meters away from him - and Thor noticed; raised an suspicious eyebrow, as he followed Loki's gaze. "Um, brother, you're staring."

Fuck.

Loki's eyes widened even more; cheeks turning pink as he quickly pulled his gaze off you. "No, I'm not! You must be blind, brother! Or hallucinating!"

Thor wasn't stupid, though. He knew exactly what he saw - and Loki's reaction only proved his assumption to be right. The god said nothing, only smiled, before he went to greet his fellow team mates.

"Ah, greetings, Lady Romanoff and Lady Y/N!" Natasha gave him a smile and a nod. "Hey Thunderboy." You smiled and waved at him. "Hi Thor!" While the Black Widow went to join Tony already on the Quinjet, you walked up to the Asgardian princes - which caused Loki to get slightly nervous.

"Is that new a new armour I see on you, Lady Y/N?" You giggled; nodding. "It is. Nat told me to try something new and I needed anyway something more... functional, so... Do you like it?" You turned in a circle; showing off your new outfit - much to Loki's dismay. He felt his breath hitching in his throat; his chest seemingly growing tighter - just like the space within the front of his leather trousers.

By Odin's beard... How am I supposed to survive this mission?

"It suits you very well, Lady Y/N!" "Thanks, Thor." Then you turned to Loki. "How do you like it, Mischief?"

Like it? LIKE IT?! I love it. It makes me want to pin you against the wall of the Quinjet and ravish you right then and there.

"I agree with my brother."

"Thanks! Now, let's go, boys. I bet Tony's waiting already for us and we don't want to make our diva angry, do we?" You prompted; already entering the Quinjet - which caused the fabric of your suit to bend and stretch around certain body parts even more.

Shit...

You sat alone in a corner of the Quinjet; checking your weapons and mentally preparing yourself for the task ahead, since Tony had announced that you'd arrive soon. Then you heard steps approaching you. Familiar steps. You didn't even have to look up to check who it was. You knew.

"What's up, Nat?"

Your best friend sat down beside you. From the corner of your eye, you could see that she had already changed. A beautiful black, long-sleeved dress was hiding her catsuit underneath. She looked stunning - as always.

"He's into you."

You frowned immediately; were taken aback by the Widow's words. Nat was definitely not somebody who beat about the bush...

You looked up to face her; seeing her lips curled upwards in a smirk.

"W-What, I- Who?"

"Laufeyson." Natasha spoke out the god's name without even blinking; kind of shocking you.

"Whaaat?" You laughed; shaking your head. "No fucking way. I mean, yes, he probably likes my body - like the handsome naughty little shit he is, but that doesn't mean he likes me. Loki has a lot of women and men..." Natasha raised an accusing eyebrow. "Babes, no... Sorry to disappoint you, but Loki didn't have somebody in months."

You frowned. "How do you know that?" Your best friend shrugged her shoulders. "Bruce's apartment is across his and trust me, babe... I hear if he's giving somebody a really good time, 'cause fucking hell, he apparently does." You almost choked on your own spit by her words. "Nat! You cheeky minx!" Again you got just a shrug, accompanied by a grin.

"Okay, let's say you're right... That doesn't mean he's into me." The Russian beauty rolled her eyes. "Y/N... Sorry to say that, but... Are you blind? I don't mean what happened earlier. Sure, his eyes almost popped out of his head, seeing you like this - but that was just another proof." Now you were the one raising both your eyebrows.

"Another proof? What is that supposed to mean now?" Your best friend giggled; shaking her head. "You really didn't notice." "Notice what?" You asked almost desperately know. "The way he's looking at you? How his mood always seems to lift when you're in the room? He smiles - as soon as you're around him. The way he opens up to you? How kind he is to you?" You blinked; staring at your best friend.

"Uhhh, no? I, um, no..." "You should pay a bit more attention then," Nat said; winking. You were still a bit stunned and overwhelmed by those 'news'. That was never your intention. "I... I didn't mean to... I was just trying to be kind. I always knew there's more in Loki than just the bad guy everybody thinks he is. All I wanted was to give him what he deserves... A second chance and a way to proof everybody wrong."

The Widow smiled; placing a hand on your shoulder. "Well... It seems like you were successful in bringing out this other side of him. There is more. You were right about that. But it also seems like you tickled something else awake inside of him... Feelings." "Feelings?" "Feelings. That man is head over heels for you." You bit your lip. That wasn't what I wanted... "Are you sure?" Natasha stood up again, "To 100 per cent." and walked away with a smile; leaving you and your thoughts alone.

You sighed; leaning back against the wall. Your head hitting the metal with a soft thud. You couldn't help but to think about what Natasha said. He's into you. Perhaps it was true and your best friend right, but... What were you feeling? Was his love... requited?

You swallowed. Sure, he was the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes upon, with his long, raven curls, chiselled face and trained body. You loved his wit, how utterly charming he could be, how eloquent he was, how well-read, smart and his other-worldly humour. You liked to spent time with him and talk to him. You'd even go as far and say you were some kind of friends, but love? Not yet.

But when you closed your eyes and thought of Loki, you could easily picture a future with him as a couple - and who knew... Perhaps it was going to happen.

Okay, maybe you had a tiny crush on him.

"Alright. Everybody knows what to do. Let's get those documents, so we can finally make sure that this asshole gets behind bars," Tony spoke and everyone nodded.

The mission was... Well, you wouldn't exactly say easy, but with a good team perfectly manageable. The Avengers got the assignment to help the police to get one of the biggest drug dealers of America - and literally the whole world finally behind bars. Bernardi had always managed to slip the F.B.I through their fingers the past years. Now it had to end - and it was going to.

Today was a big gala in New Haven, Connecticut - the best chance to get Bernardi. But to finally convict him, important documents of the next big drug deal were needed - and they laid safely in a safe in his security monitored and secured suite in the big building, where also the gala took place.

The plan? Tony was going to hack the security camera systems, to make you and Loki - who were going to sneak through the ventilation shafts of the building and actually 'steal' the documents. Nat was going to attend the gala with Thor as her backup and caused distraction - if needed. This time, it was no 'going like a bull at a gate' task. It was no big fight or war. It was some kind of movie like spy mission - and you were hyped.

You didn't understand first, why Tony hadn't sent you and Nat to get the documents, but then you realised that Loki and Thor probably weren't the best duo to attend the gala together. Their cover would probably blow up faster than Tony's patience...

"Y/N, are you coming?" The soft, low timbre of Loki urged to your ears; causing you to blink and snap out of your thoughts. "On my way." You checked if you had everything you needed, then joined your team mate. "Ready, partner?" Loki smiled; gesturing for you to walk down the ramp of the Quinjet. "Lead the way, milady."

Tony had given you the exact positions, coordinates and maps. Loki 'was just your helper' - like the billionaire put it and 'had to follow your orders'.

You sneaked around the big building at the dead of night; looking for the exit of the ventilation shafts. You were quick to find the exact one Tony told you to find and quietly removed the grid, while Loki's eyes scanned the area for any 'intruders'.

"Let's go." You grabbed Loki's attention with your words; nodding towards the ventilation shaft. Just when you were about to climb inside, Loki stopped you. "Y/N, wait! I, uh, I think I should go first." You turned to face him; looking a bit confused. "Why? That wouldn't make sense, Mischief. I have the maps. I know where to go. That's why I..." You climbed inside the ventilation shaft. "... go first. Now come!" Unbeknownst to you, squeezed Loki his eyes shut; face scrunching. "Loki!" "Coming!"

He sighed, then followed you. It was dark inside, of course, but you had your torch and Loki, well, his seidr. Nevertheless, the light source in addition with his position gave Loki the perfect view of your ass; sending shivers down the god's spine. Exactly what he wanted to prevent. Sure, he enjoyed the view, but it was also torturous. You were close and yet so far. "Norns... Can this evening get any worse?" He mumbled underneath his breath, while crawling behind you. "What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing!"

After crawling through the tight, dark space and crossing endless corners for what felt like eternity, you finally announced that you and Loki had reached the destination - the tenth floor of the building.

"Oh!" You abruptly stopped; causing Loki to almost bump head first in your bottom - head first. "What?" "I think we made it. According to Tony's plans, this must be the exit we have to take. The tenth floor." "Let us do that then. My knees hurt." You giggled; working on getting the hatchway open. "Not used to kneel a lot, are we?" "Sounds like you are." Loki answered dryly, without even blinking - and your jaw almost dropped. A blush creeping up your cheeks. He just couldn't help himself. You had given him the perfect opportunity.

"No! I-I mean... I do a lot of work on missions which affords... Kneeling and crawling." The god nodded, but gave you a cheeky smile. "Sure, Y/N. I do kneel from time to time, too."

Gods... You felt the heat in your cheeks increasing, so you busied yourself even more with the hatchway - and to your sheer relief it clicked open mere seconds later. Carefully, you peeked out; head first, looking for any signs of security guards. "Not a single soul to be seen. The coast is clear." You sat up; ready to jump, when your partner stopped you for the second time. "Allow me to go first this time." "Alright." Loki jumped and you followed; the hatchway falling close behind you.

The hallway you had landed in was big with white, clean walls and a black tiled floor. It reminded you of a hotel, but also didn't look like such at all.

"Where to now, milady?" Loki whispered; just in case. "We have to find Bernardi's room," you answered in a hushed voice; pointing down the hallway. "This way." The god nodded; following close behind. So, you sneaked down the hallways; crossing each corner carefully. Another look on the map told you that you weren't far from your destination, when you suddenly heard voices - and they came from behind you.

"Securityguards!" You whisper-yelled at Loki, who looked surprisingly just as panicky as you did. Well, after all you were in a hallway... Not exactly many opportunities to hide there. Loki was about to just teleport you somewhere else, but before he could make use of his magic, you had reacted faster and literally shoved him inside a little broom closet you had spotted mere seconds ago. With one hand clasped over his mouth, the other gripping the lapels of his leather coat tightly and your back stemmed against the door, you hid away from the nearing threat. It caught Loki completely off-guard of course, but he found himself once more enjoying the situation. Your touch. The roughness of it. He liked it.

Once you were sure he wouldn't make a single sound, you let go of him. "Sorry. I just had to make sure that-" "I know," he interrupted you, nodding. You nodded back at him; staying quiet. You had to wait until the security men passed. Unfortunately, though, the broom closet was everything but spacious. Quite the opposite... tiny. And with cleaning supplies all around the two of you, it was a really tight fit. So tight, that body contact was inevitable. Your chest almost touched his. You were so close, you could feel his minty breath on your face. Loki's chiselled bone structure looked even more handsome from this point of view - and dear god, had he always smelled that good? Like a mix out of leather, blood oranges and charred wood? You couldn't explain why, but it smelt so comfortable to you. So rich and musky, yet sweet.

You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Focus, Y/N, focus.

Unbeknownst to you, Loki had the exact same problem; struggling even harder. His hands almost trembled from holding back from touching you. He would've loved to just kiss you right here and now; your scent intoxicating him. But he couldn't, and he knew that.

"I think we're good to go," you breathed out then; slowly lurking through the crack of the door. "Come."

Loki had noticed the slight tremble in your voice - and it sparked something inside him... Hope. Perhaps he had a chance to win your heart. A chance he never thought he had. And maybe, just maybe he shouldn't see this mission as a burden, but as the first shot he could shoot.

Loki knew that women liked to be wooed. So, he decided to try to impress you. After all, he had conquered already a lot of hearts. He knew how it worked. But you... You were different. You had conquered his heart first - and you didn't even know it.

Wordlessly, the god followed you, until you had reached Bernardi's room. A complicated lock adorned the door. Easy access? No chance. "Alright," you stated; switching on your communication device. "Tony. We're standing in front of the room. Pick the lock." The billionaire answered immediately. "Consider it done, Y/N." "Perfect."

Tony's 'consider it done' took longer than you anticipated... Almost fifteen minutes had ticked by and the electric lock still hadn't moved an inch.

"Hey Tony, what's taking so long?" "It's more complicated than I thought. Give me another minute."

And even another minute wasn't enough. So slowly, Loki grew impatient. After all was the risk very high of getting caught by security guards any momenr. Rolling his eyes, he stepped over to the door and placed his hand on the lock. "Loki? What are you doing?" You asked, eyes widening. "Unlocking this damn lock." You blinked. "And, uh, how?" The god gave you a smirk; "Seidr, darling." winking.

Not even a second after he said that, a green cloud enveloped the lock - and it clicked open. Your jaw dropped. "Woah... That's... That's pretty cool."

Step one of impressing Y/N: Done.

"Tony, we got it." "Yes, I can see that... How?!" You smiled; following Loki inside the room. "Mischief." You could practically hear how Tony rolled his eyes at your answer.

After tiptoeing through the big, spacious room and 'stealing' the documents like professionals; you and your partner left again, as if nothing happened. Loki even managed to fix the lock with his magic.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?" You nodded; checking your watch. "We should, yes. The 10 o'clock patrol will pass this hallway in exact... ten minutes. Either we hurry, or tell Thor and Nat to distract them." "I know I have no say in this mission, but I would recommend option two, Y/N. Better safe than- uh... How's this Midgardian saying going again?" You giggled - music to Loki's ears. "Better be safe than sorry." "That's it, yes. Thank you." "I guess you're right... Nat, can you hear me?" "Loud and clear, babes." "Perfect. Can you and Thor distract the 10 o'clock patrol up here? We won't make it in time." "Sure thing!"

Well, unfortunately, it turned out they couldn't...

Just as the two of you rounded the corner into the hallway of the ventilation shaft, rounded a group of five security guards the other corner. You and Loki stopped immediately in your track; standing like frozen to the ground. "Well... Now we have a problem." The guards noticed you, of course, immediately. One of them gave you an angry look. "Indeed we have," the bulky man snarled; switching on his walkie-talkie. "We have intruders on the tenth floor. Most likely burglars; calling for back-up." "Understood, Sir. Back-up is on the way."

Now you were really fucked.

You sighed; cracking your neck and prepared to fight. "Guess we'll have to-" That was the moment Loki had waited for. The ultimate chance to impress you. His hand on your arm interrupted you; pulling you gently behind himself. "Stay behind me, darling. I am going to take care of this little... issue." Loki stepped slowly forwards - like a wolf stalking its prey; read to fight, when suddenly something caught his attention... A small loudspeaker box hanging high up in the corner where both hallways met.

Smiling mischievously; he snapped his fingers. Let's put on a little show for the lady.

The security guards didn't know what was coming their way. Especially not as 'Holding Out for a Hero' by Bonnie Tyler started to echo through the empty hallways. And before any of them could react, Loki had already started his attack. Unlucky for the men, they were just as surprised and kind of shocked how you were. The god moved gracefully; dodging here a kick and there a punch. The security guards didn't stand a single chance. Not even the back-up - and by the end of the song, Loki had knocked out every single man who had stood in his way.

You just stood there; mouth agape and not quite knowing what to do or think. Loki though, had a victorious, smug and self-confident smirk on his face. Running a hand smoothly through his black curls, he leaned casually against the wall. "There we go. They won't bother us anymore."

Loki didn't quite know what he anticipated of your reaction. A nervous smile perhaps. Reddened cheeks or a impressed facial expression - but he certainly didn't anticipated what came his way... "Umm... Thank you? But I could've taken care of them as well. I know, uh, how to fight."

The god had a hard time hiding the shock on his face. And the embarrassment, which followed only a few seconds later. She didn't like it. She thinks I'm stupid. I made a fool out of myself. He face-palmed himself internally.

Swallowing nervously and clearing his throat, Loki stepped away from the wall again; trying to somehow 'save' this situation. "Sure, I... I know that, of course, Y/N. I just... wanted to be... nice." "Well, I appreciate it. Thanks." Before an awkward silence could settle between you and him; the god cleared his throat once more. "We, um, we should leave." You nodded, "We should, yes." and watched him turn on his heels; quickly walking away.

Therefore, Loki couldn't see how a dazzling smile spread across your face. Whatever it was what he just did - or tried to do... It was very sweet of him.

The rest of the mission went smoothly. You and Loki made it safely and uncaught out of the building.

When you reached the Quinjet, Natasha stood on the ramp, already changed in her black bodysuit; grinning. She said not a single word as you and Loki passed her by, just kept grinning. You gave your best friend a confused look; mouthing: "What?" All she did was winking, before she followed you as the ramp closed shut behind the three of you.

After you had handed Tony the documents and the Quinjet was in the air again; heading towards New York, you decided to seek out the Widow.

"What was that grinning about, huh?" You gently poked her side to get your best friend's attention. She turned to face you; smiling again. "Oh, nothing. Just Loki fighting off thirty guys alone," Nat said with a wink. "And this got you smiling, because...?" You looked expectantly at her, not quite getting what she was insisting.

"Gods, Y/N/N... You truly are blind," Nat stated; shaking her head and crossed her arms over her chest, before she walked towards the metallic door. "He did that in order to impress and most likely to protect you. That man is in love with you. Open up your eyes, babes."

The Quinjet landed quite late at night on the compound. Only a few lights were on; signalling that most of the other Avengers were already asleep.

"Alright, guys. See tomorrow," you bid your goodbye to your fellow teammates. After hugging Natasha, you turned to Loki. "Good night, Mischief." The god gave you a soft smile. "Good night." Then you turned and walked away; following Nat and Tony.

While Loki couldn't help himself, but to stare after you with mixed feelings about the last few hours coiling within his stomach, Thor came to stand beside him.

"You are staring again, brother." He stated simply; smiling. "I'm not-" Loki wanted to immediately reject Thor, but the God of Thunder spoke faster. "Do not try to deny it, Loki. I saw everything. You tried to impress Lady Y/N with fighting off those men." Loki's eyes widened at Thor's words - proofing the god to be right. "You... saw that?" "Yes, brother. We all did."

Loki squeezed his eyes shut. The cameras.

He couldn't control his body longer; a blush creeping up his cheeks. Thor laughed heartily; clapping him on the shoulder. "No need to be ashamed, brother. I am truly happy you found love - and Lady Y/N is a great woman, if I might say so."

Loki grumbled, but knew very well that he had lost this game. "I don't think Y/N feels the same, brother. I made a fool out of myself. I will never win her heart."

Thor wrapped his arm around Loki's shoulder, shaking his head. "No, you did not make a fool out of yourself. I tried to impress Jane a lot of times and failed." "Yes, because you're an oafish ape. I'm not," Loki mumbled under his breath; inaudible for Thor. "Don't you give up. One day, Lady Y/N will be yours."

After the kind of awkward conversation with his brother, Loki headed straight to his little apartment in the tower. He considered to go to bed straight away, in order to escape the hold you had on him, but he also was aware that his mind wouldn't switch itself off so easily. So, instead to forget you, he decided to fully indulge in his thoughts, heartache and fantasies, and took a very long shower; whimpering your name over and over again in his throes of pleasure at the imagination of you in that damn body suit.

Now the god was standing naked in front of the sink; staring at himself in the mirror. His damp raven curls falling loosely over his shoulders; pecs still glistening with water, causing a few single water droplets to drip from his chest hair.

Loki took a deep breath; shaking his head. "I'm fool... I'm such a fool..." With one simple snap of his fingers, he was perfectly dry. He sighed. "... and hopelessly in love."

After slipping into a fresh pair of boxershorts, he went to bed; laying awake for seconds. Minutes. Hours? Just like he anticipated. The god stared at the dark ceiling above him, arms crossed behind his neck; thinking. Until suddenly his mobile vibrated for a second; announcing that he just received a message. Frowning, Loki turned to reach for his phone on the bedside table and unlocked it - only for his eyes to widen. You... It was a message from you. Quickly, he entered the chat to read it.

Hey, Mischief. Just wanted to say thank you again for fighting off the bad guys. Very cute. Thanks.

Loki's whole face lit up. Cute? He was smiling so bright, like he had probably never did in his life before. She thinks I'm cute? His heart skipped a joyful beat.

Perhaps was his brother right... Perhaps hope wasn't lost yet and one day... One day you will be his.

#the baby fever au #pre relationship #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

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mingtinys · 23 days

Text

" i would do anything for you "

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : traffic violations ( for a good cause ! )

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : it's bittersweet posting this last part of the series :( i'm so sad for it to end cause i've had so much fun , but i couldn't be happier with how it turned out ! thank you to everyone that showed this series so much love and support <3 next up .... an nct series !!

Maybe you're just being paranoid. Perhaps the scratching at your back door wasn't some crazed killer messing with you before the inevitable. In fact, it's extremely likely you've simply stayed up too late and now your brain is playing tricks. But are you willing to take that chance? Absolutely not.

The fifth scratch comes and you're picking up the phone to dial the first person you can think of.

Chan reaches your home at a speed only possible by violating a few traffic laws. Armed with nothing but a broken broomstick and his dinosaur bedroom slippers. You're not even sure he's entirely awake. But he marches his way through your home and straight to the back door with conviction, advising you to stay back while he handles it.

He lowers his voice a few octaves as he speaks. "Whoever is out there, you better knock it off!" The scratching noise picks up. "I'll come out there!" Chan warns, though sounding a little unsure. Yet the scratching never ceases.

At this point, the genius thought to call the police finally enters your panicked brain. Something that probably should have been your first instinct. But it's too late, you can hear Chan thrusting the door open. "Alright, you asked for it– oh..."

When your savior returns, a fluffy orange creature in hand, you feel your face drain of all color. Your friend's cat. The one you were supposed to be sitting while they were away on a business trip. You'd forgotten you'd even let him outside to explore hours ago.

Chan points to the cat with a mock-serious look, "Is this guy bothering you, babe?"

Though severely embarrassed, you let out a sigh of relief. "I'm so sorry, Peanut," you coo at the cat, carefully taking him from your boyfriend's arms and carrying him over to his food, which you're certain is what he was scratching to get in for.

When you spin back around, Chan's arms are crossed over his chest, an expectant look on his face. "You know, usually the knight in shining armor gets a kiss for his bravery."

The playful tone in his voice alleviates some of the guilt you feel for calling him over at two a.m. to defend you from a killer cat. A gesture for which you're more than happy to reward with a kiss or two. And once he's claimed his prize, Chan happily gathers you in his arms. He rubs circles into your back, soothing any remaining anxiety in your muscles.

"I'm sorry you came all the way here for nothing," you mumble into his shoulder. "I guess I watched one too many crime shows and sort of panicked."

"You don't need to apologize. It's my job to be here whenever you need me." He pulls back and takes your face in his hands, holding your gaze with genuine eyes. "I would do anything for you."

That confession earns him a second kiss, causing him to break out in a dopey grin. "My hero," you tease, although he looks rather proud of himself for it.

"One question though?"

"What's that?"

"If you thought someone was trying to break in, why didn't you just call the police?"

Trust, Chan is over the moon to be the person you call in a time of need. But realistically, what was he supposed to do? Fight to the death with his bare hands and a broomstick to save you? He absolutely would... doesn't mean he'd win.

You pause. "I don't know, I guess I just panicked and thought of you first."

Chan is probably going to be riding that ego boost for the rest of his life.

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @armycarat2612

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cheqorb · 3 months

Text

LOVE STRIKES ft. isagi, shidou, kaiser

a change in your rival's demeanour is be nothing serious, i mean, everyone gets tired of being competitive all the time. so, the look of longing in their eyes, the comments that seem more flirtatious than threatening, should be fine, right?

NOTES: perhaps i am, in fact, isagi’s #1 fan because he’s going to show up in basically every single blue lock post i make so get used to him LMAOOO. writing kaiser’s one made me feel something for him. ew. also i have no clue on how to write some of these characters so for the 2518616th time in a row, please excuse the fact that they are most definitely ooc.

making an enemy out of ISAGI is surprisingly straightforward, considering his more laid-back personality compared to everyone else at least. simply just be a bit of a diva (aka, just become kaiser 2.0), confidently brag about how much better you are than him and he’s a bit hopeless, isn’t he? it’s won’t be long before he begins to get pretty irritable around you, feeling the urge to curse you out anytime you speak.

it’s not the ego he minds, really, but you’re just so…you.

with a smirk, you peer over his shoulder as he struggles to catch his breath in practice. "is that all you've got? whatever happened to the genius on the pitch?" you taunt, wearing the smug expression he oh-so-despises. your shit-eating grin only widens at the sight of his furrowed brows and clenched teeth that betray his frustration, he’s so predictable, it’s almost sad! ‘this is too easy,’ you think.

which is why, he would describe it as humiliating as he realises he's starting to feel something beyond mere dislike towards you.

the discomfort between the two of you only worsens as he grows awkwardly silent at your blatant insults or even the mere mention of his name within earshot. seriously, is he just ignoring you? and when you condescendingly pat his head, calling him a sorry excuse of a striker, he just…stands there. and his cheeks are tinted red..? well, you suppose he could’ve just finished practice so he’s red ‘cause of exhaustion, yeah, that must be it. (cue everyone visibly shaking their heads and sighing very loudly.)

before your fingertips even make contact with his head, isagi already knows it's you standing beside him.

you tut, "still not giving up, huh? just how much do you enjoy losing anyway..." you pause. he doesn't swat your hand away or offer a retort like he would have a few weeks prior to today. you don’t know what’s changed, and this one-sided dynamic has become so boring that you begin to wonder if he's purposefully trying to embarrass you by ignoring you. but then, much to your horror, he absentmindedly responds with, “right. yeah.”

with your hand still resting on his hair, you don’t even notice how he unconsciously leans into your touch while you’re still processing what just happened in your mind. how sneaky!

now this one’s unfathomably easy. SHIDOU is someone who thrives on stirring up trouble; it can be with anything unlucky enough to catch his attention, be it a stranger bumping into him or even a dog walking off its leash. though, to capture his interest and earn his respect in earnest, you need to demonstrate the ability to ‘explode’ on the field but also able to play by his ‘rules’. but to truly kick off his fascination with you (pun intended), maintaining a nonchalant demeanor/keeping a distance between you two also helps. in my opinion, he seems like he’d be drawn to people who present themselves to be on the more mysterious side.

he approaches with his trademark flamboyance, his voice booming as he makes his way across the pitch. "hey, you! that was some seriously impressive play out there!" he declares, "i mean, seriously, those moves were—” he goes off on a tangent about cells, explosions…“thanks,” you say with a neutral expression on your face, even after he tried to jump on you??? almost broke your nose if you didn’t dodge in time.

his personality is both captivating yet intimidating, and you find yourself instinctively retreating if he gets too close. even if he is one of the few players who willingly praises you outright. but shidou isn't deterred by your reaction; if anything, it only fuels his excitement. anyways in terms of romance, he operates on a vastly different wavelength from the conventional views on love. he doesn't recognise feelings of being flustered or the desire to shower someone with tender care and attention.

while shidou may experience a certain pull towards you, it’s driven by instinct rather than conscious understanding, he remains largely oblivious to the complexities of his emotions. unless you’re exceptionally perceptive or are somehow able to understand his underlying motives, you're likely to interpret his actions as a signal to maintain a safe distance.

“you’re always so hard to pin down, you know that?” his voice calls out, watching as you continue on your way, seemingly unfazed by his presence. he debates on whether or not to smash your face into the ground but then, he pauses.

despite everything, there’s something undeniably exhilarating about being around you. a sense of freedom, a release from the constraints of his existence. being with you makes him happy. it’s a thought that prompts him to think how nice it’d be if you felt the same way about him…huh. oh well. even if you don’t, it won’t stop him from hanging out with you.

for KAISER, it's also decently easy. either defeat him on the soccer field or simply refuse to conform to his philosophy of everyone revolving around him; just don’t be a pushover. he’ll gladly take any opportunity to crush someone whose ego far outweighs their abilities, but when confronted by someone with the skills to match their confidence? he becomes both intrigued and slightly irked.

especially if they’re someone who can’t stand him, which to be fair, isn’t all that difficult.

as you catch sight of a familiar head of blonde hair fading into blue entering through the doorway, you internally groan. he saunters over, flashing his signature smirk. "well, if it isn't my most favourite jester," he drawls, his tone dripping with arrogance. "you're looking rather defeated today. are you finally coming to term with the fact that you'll never match my level?"

as time passes however, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to your presence, even noticing the small details about you. the way your eyes lit up when you seemed to figure something out, the subtle quirks that made you, you. eventually, the realisation that his actions were out of love dawns on him. he’ll certainly try to deny it, brushing off the unfamiliar feelings as mere annoyance or frustration, but as he catches himself stealing glances in your direction and seeking out opportunities to be near you, he can’t help but admit defeat.

michael kaiser, the once arrogant and self-assured soccer prodigy, had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

he found himself wanting to impress you, to make you smile, to be the best version of himself for you. and, what began as subtle glances and fleeting touches soon evolved into more obvious displays of affection.

he finds excuses to brush against you or in close proximity of you, his hand lingering a fraction longer when shaking yours or his fingers grazing yours when passing objects. kaiser also seems to be fond of leaning close towards you nowadays, his face mere inches from yours as if testing the boundaries of your rivalry with eachother. additionally, your pet name has been upgraded from jester to ‘liebling’…whatever that even means. must be weird if it makes his teammates raise a brow every time he says it.

his boldness never fails to catch you off guard, but his next words are something you truly don’t expect. "i love you."

#[ 𐙚 ] CHEQ. — writing #[ 𐙚 ] CHEQ. — from the heart !#[ 𐙚 ] CHEQ. — bllk #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x you #shidou x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader

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brucewaynehater101 · 26 days

Note

Apologies if I'm remembering wrong but I recall you posting/reblogging a post of Tim being afraid for Damian after he became Robin, thinking Red Hood would redirect his ire to him

Let's expand on that, Damian finding out about all the horrible shit Tim went through and put himself through and beginning to dread being Robin more and more but not wanting to take it back because he doesn't want to add onto Tim's pain

((and also because giving up robin would make him look week, but that's just an excuse))

So Damian is wrecked with anxiety because when is the hammer gonna drop and he'll receive what Tim did?

And if Tim's inheritance is going to be his, that means inheriting all the labor he is endures when running Wayne Enterprises, and etc

And Damian—wrong as he is—thinking himself selfish for hoping Tim stays in the family just so the day he inherits his duties comes later

Damian bonding with Tim over pain the latter experienced and the former is certain he will as well

((and also imagine what will go through Damian's head if he were to find out Tim doesn't even consider himself an actual Wayne member and just a Placeholder to keep the family from crumbling to pieces like that other post, a Placeholder until Jason and Damian came))

((and suddenly his assassination attempts seem like all for nothing and even self-sabotage, woof))

Hello! It seems that there are two of my posts you're referring to here (which is super super cool). This is going to be a long post cause it inspired me to really look at their dynamic and explore it.

One post talks about how Tim became Red Robin and didn't choose another mantle. There's a few reasons for this (like not being able to step down from his role of helping Bruce), but the reason you're referring to is another theory of mine. Tim may be Red Robin to share the burden and pain being Robin entails. He doesn't want Damian to face it alone. By being Red Robin, he can shoulder some of the ire from Batman.

The other post has Tim, who signed himself up to being Jason's placeholder both in an out of the mask, seeing himself as worthless and temporary. Both of his roles, being Jason and being Robin, got filled by Jason and Damian later.

Now that we've got the background, I absolutely love your take on this. I will add a few fics that expand on this view, but I do want to talk about it more first.

Unfortunately, Damian is used to a lot of abuse before coming to live with the Waynes (I love good mom Talia, but training to be an assassin is still abuse. She could have good reasons, but it still hurt Damian). He probably felt that he needed to earn his place and fulfill his familial role as Robin. Even as he matures and heals a bit, he may be reluctant to let Robin go. That type of training and enforced dedication to family is not simple to let go (even from a purely emotional abuse standpoint without any of the physical abuse he likely endured [This can be another thing he shares with Tim and his reluctantance to let Red Robin go]).

Kids, like Damian, will see others in similar situations and try to avoid their fate.

What is more likely? Tim is just special in being a target of isolation and abuse, or that Damian could one day be treated the same?

There's a ton of interesting theories about roles within abusive families (my family was emotionally abusive fyi). The sad part is that some of the kids will follow the example of their parents and abuse their siblings. This is both because parents model behavior and as a survival technique to not become the scapegoat like that one sibling. Damian may have joined in on being verbally abusive for both of these reasons (as well as being an extremely traumatized kid lashing out).

As he grows older and gains perspective (as well as distance from his LoA days), he may reflect on his behavior and the treatment of Tim. Tim is also the closest in age to Damian. He might be around physically more than the other siblings (besides Duke). Perhaps Duke even points out the differential treatment. There's a lot of ways that the metaphorical ball could get rolling.

This could be where Damian starts to regret his actions toward Tim. It may start from a selfish place (which, survival is not selfish and being selfish isn't always bad) of Damian realizing the assassination attempts are self-sabotage (and I love this idea and reflection on Damian). This would then morph into a genuine relationship and reliance on Tim.

I imagine, with these circumstances, that Tim becomes an anchor and safe point for Damian. All of the siblings have varying effects on the others, but this would be separate from that. While Dick is Damian's harbor, Tim would be closer to a lighthouse protecting Damian from the rocky shoreline. Dick is a place to rest and heal. Tim is a warning and guide (feel free to reblog with how the other batkids would be with Damian or each other).

Continually, Damian wanting Tim to stick around the family for his own safety hurts like hell. This casts the older sibling guilt (of leaving your siblings behind in that damn house) in a younger sibling's shame. Depending on the age, the younger sibling might be angry the older left or ashamed they want to ask in the first place. As a middle child, that fucking hurts (my situation is a bit more nuanced than that, but fuck. Ow).

Anyways, tons of angst to explore there on both of their parts.

I sincerely hope that Damian gets a life outside of WE. I hope he at least has time to explore himself (and maybe get a different career) before ever taking up WE. Depending on Tim's role in WE, this may fuck him over. I would be down to read some fics that explore Tim struggling under WE (cause he was meant for the research labs and not meeting rooms) and his refusal to step down due to the pressure that would put on Damian's shoulders (I know Tim isn't actually CEO in canon, but it's good to explore how the expectation of taking up the family business affects sibling dynamics).

Fic rec time! All are on AO3

"Exit Strategy" by smilebackwards (Tim's plan to leave the Waynes creates the ability for Damian and Tim to bond [not that Damian knows this is the plan]. Hurt ensues).

"Taming a Baby Assassin" by nighttmr (Tim, after being notified that he's getting a younger sibling with Damian, decides he'll be a big brother regardless of the effort required).

"Some Common Ground" by Do_wa_diddy (Both Damian and Tim are used to cruel standards of training. The others do not understand this and try to limit how they train. This causes Tim and Damian to bond).

"Just Like the Movies" by faithms (Damian finds a flash drive of all the times Bruce has been horrible to Tim).

"The Study of Birds" by MaskoftheRay (Tim and Damian find a common interest in bird watching. It shows them slowly becoming closer despite the obstacles).

Last one:

"You'll Change Your Name or Change Your Mind (previous title: Tim Drake Learns to Set Boundaries)" series by samsamiam.

I wholeheartedly recommend this series. Basically, Tim sets boundaries for himself while offering Damian sanctuary (should the kid need). It becomes Tim protecting Damian even from Bruce. Very very very good.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #damian wayne #damian wayne angst #tim and damian #tim drake angst #thank you for the ask!!!!

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shirefantasies · 3 months

Note

firstly happy new year!

i wanted to tell you i love your works and maybe ask if i can request a Thorin's company x reader where the reader is from our world and has many tattoos (like a full sleeve) and the company's reaction, maybe the dwarves show their tattoos too?

thank youuu so much!

Ooh, this is cool! Sorry it took so long this got buried in my inbox 😣 I’m going to try to keep the tattoos as vague/open as possible but I may describe em here & there, sorry 😅 Hope this is enjoyable & accurate hehe, ya girl does not have any tattoos herself~

Warnings: slight suggestive jokes, minor blood in one

Showing Thorin’s Company Your Tattoos

Balin

It started the moment he pulled out the contract. You’d gone traveling with the company but not officially joined until this moment. Soon as the parchment unfurled, you began rolling your sleeves up and out of ink’s way. Glancing upward, you caught Balin’s eyes upon the designs inked into your skin. “Oh,” you cocked your head, pen momentarily forgotten, “have you never seen tattoos like this before?” Such a question earned you a sudden burst of laughter from the white-haired dwarf, who shook his head. “Nay, not in the slightest! Quite the opposite. We dwarves are famous for our designs. I suppose that yes, I’ve never seen ones like yours,” he glances over yours once more, “but many I have seen.” Suddenly you felt compelled to ask: “Well, do you like them?” Balin smiled. “Of course I do! Just because they are different doesn’t mean they are bad. Watch out for my brother, though, he’ll be itching to give you a new one if you get on his good side.” He gave a wink and that sealed it for you- you knew it already, but it rang through your head once more that you had a place in this company.

Dwalin

It had started with a compliment. “I like your tattoos,” you told the shaven-headed dwarf with a smile and a nod his way. He looked surprised, then pride settled into his eyes beneath the fire’s flicker. “Thanks. Bet you’ve never seen anything like ‘em before, eh?” Matching Dwalin’s smug smile, you rolled up your sleeve to reveal the art covering your own body. “By my beard,” he breathed. “Would you believe me if I said there was more where that came from?” You teased. “May not have before,” the dwarf grinned, “but I certainly do now. Bet you don’t know what mine mean, though…” "Well then, tell me." Brows raising, he crosses his arms and looks you over as if anew. "And perhaps if you prove yourself, I can add to your collection." As you can imagine, this turned into quite a long conversation.

Thorin

The king-to-be’s eyebrows raise, a look of pure shock crossing his regal features when you expose the long expanses of tattoos you’ve decorated yourself with. Arching a brow, you assume it is some sort of royal sensibility and roll your eyes, at least until you hear Thorin’s faint words emerge, barely above a whisper. “My sister has something quite like that. May I?” Stunned, you simply nod, holding your arm out as Thorin draws closer, fingers gently brushing over your inked skin as a small smile creeps to his lips. “I remember when she got it. She wanted me to get one, too, but I was too afraid.” A deep chuckle. “You, I see, do not lack the courage. Dis would like you. Very much,” he comments, blue eyes shining into yours.

Oin

“You’ve gotta be more careful next time,” Oin shakes his head as he lowers you onto the blanket, one hand tucked carefully behind your head. “You’re welcome,” you grin, though the expression quickly turns into a wince as pain arcs up your newly acquired wound. Tutting, Oin says nothing, opting instead to strip off your layers to dab at the blood collecting there. He pauses, though, over your bared skin. “You never told me…” Gloved hand waving vaguely over you, and you chuckle weakly. “What, that I have an amazing pain tolerance?” “That’s one way to put it,” he replies, “and let’s hope so. You’ll need it. They did heal quite nicely, you know. Half the ones I’ve done looked a mess after.” “You do tattoos, huh?” You chuckle again, smiling up at him as he worked. “Now that I’d like to see.”

Gloin

Bursting into hearty laughter, Gloin claps a hand to your shoulder. "Thinkin' you can beat Dwalin, are you?” Obviously you are quite confused, tilting your head at him until you trace the line of his eyes to your exposed wrist. The edges of a tattoo showed there, bringing a chuckle to your lips. “Hadn’t thought of it like that,” you shot back, “but I suppose I would have him bested.” Gloin bursts into hearty laughter as you push up your sleeve to reveal skin entirely covered. “Bless me, I was teasing you! You really went for it, though! What did you do for yours? I managed to barter for mine,” he grins, pushing up his own sleeve to reveal a design near his shoulder. “I wish that was how it worked for me,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at the thought of all your lost money, “where I come from, it’s pay or nothing.” Cue Gloin lining you up deeds to get dwarven ink done should you so desire.

Bifur

Catching Bifur gesturing your way, you frown slightly and turn back around, fixing him with a look of concern at his hasty motions. Finally, he traces a hand up his arm, prompting you to peer down at your own. Ah, right. He'd probably never caught a glimpse of your tattoos before. You nod, sign a 'what?' you hope doesn't come across too cheeky, and grin when he gives up and rolls his eyes and grabs your arm. “Well,” you ask, “like ‘em?” In all honesty, you have no expectation for his reply, but the enthusiastic nod and tug up of his tunic still has your eyebrows raising in shock. He has one, too, it seems, at least the one, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s quite similar to one of yours. Smiling, you wondered if that was as meaningful to him as it was to you.

Bofur

“Well you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” You aren’t even certain what the hatted dwarf means until you follow his gaze down the length of the arm you’d bared to spearfish with, tracing the lines of your tattoos. “So you could say,” you reply mystically, waving fingers until the both of you are laughing. “Which one’s your favorite? I wanna see ‘em all. Well, if you’ll let me, of course, and…" Cutting him off with a hand held up and a smile, you answer, "I know what you mean. When we're done here, we'll need some time by the fire. I'll show you then." Eyes shining, Bofur gives you a grin and wades into the river with you. That evening, as you sat and warmed your soaked legs by the toasty fire, you rolled up your sleeve all the way this time, telling him the story of every single tattoo and chortling at his animated commentary.

Bombur

The others saw them, but Bombur’s reaction amused you the most by far. Without thinking, he grabbed your arm and held it up, eyes scanning your art beneath the warmth of his gentle hold. “Well,” you chuckled, “what do you think, do you approve?” “I quite like yours,” he agreed, “yours are pictures. I like them better than Dwalin’s.” A call of protest from the warrior dwarf rang out defending both his own art and of course the traditions of their people. But if you have any of things Bombur enjoys most, things representing family, food, animals, nature, and the like, he keeps fighting for you to the last word! "But I like the pictures! Have you seen them? Come have a look here." There you stand, your hand tightly in Bombur's grip, but you cannot help smiling.

Dori

The two of you had all but insisted the dwarves finally wash some of their layers, so they agreed under the express conditions that the ones who cared so do it. As you knelt at the riverside with a bundle of (frankly filthy) clothing, you rolled up your sleeves to the elbows and saw Dori staring out of the corner of your eye. He didn’t look particularly scandalized and you were used to eyes upon your art, expected it even. “Looking at these?” You asked with a smile. Sheepishly he nodded. “My brother has a couple of those. Always trying to get me to have one done,” he scoffed, “but I don’t exactly fancy a voluntary stabbing myself.” You can’t help laughing at that. “They certainly did hurt,” you agree in your mirth. Dori’s eyes slid down your forearm one more time. “You must be quite tough, then, aren’t you? Strong and sensible,” he beams.

Nori

One of your tattoos is especially meaningful, so the moment its subject comes up in conversation you are peeling back layers to reveal it. Many dwarven eyebrows raise as the sun strikes your skin, but you can’t help noticing Nori specifically, the look of intrigue and perhaps something else in his eyes. Challenging him with a look, you cock your head a bit at him. “Didn’t realize you had any,” he says simply. With a faint snort, you nod. “Well, here you go,” you roll up your sleeve further. Nori’s eyes trail up and down the expanse of skin one more time. “I’ve got a few myself.” Naturally, you ask him where, and that is when he breaks into a rakish smile and winks. “You’ll have to guess.”

Ori

Smiling at Ori as you accepted his sketchbook, you pushed back your sleeve to save it from smudging his work or the addition he'd welcomed you to make on a new page. An entry into his little world you were honored at the invitation to create. But when you glanced back up at the dwarf, your joy faded sharply away at the widening of his eyes. Shock, no doubt, at the revelation of the ink covering your forearm, designs you'd hidden for fear of distaste or harsh questioning. Quickly you slid the fabric back down, but Ori just gaped, looking more than a bit awed. "You have so many. Did they hurt?" A common enough question, posed innocently as you'd expect from the company's youngest. "Some more than others, that is for sure," you answered simply, "but I took it in silence." Humming in further awe, Ori leaned closer to you. "Nori screamed like a baby bird the whole time he got his." Bursting suddenly from your chest, your laughter cascaded over your whole body in relief, comfort returning to your little world. "I quite like yours better than his, too, especially that one," Ori added, pointing where he'd seen a particularly nice piece. Perhaps you should have known the artist would understand.

Fili

“Whatcha got there?” Glancing down at the utensil in your hand, you shrug. “Ladle. I was helping Bombur do the rinsing.” At that, the elder Durin heir smirks. “Not that,” he says, gesturing up from your hand, “those.” Right. “Oh, my tattoos? If you’ve never seen anything like them, I can tell you-” “Never seen anything like it?” Fili snorts in amusement, crossing his arms. “I take it you’ve not looked upon the dwarven kings of old.” Removing his coat and outer tunic, he bares his own arms. “I’d like to get mine here.” He touches his bicep. “One ringing each side.” “How convenient,” you tease as he flexes the toned muscle of his arms. “What?” “Nothing,” you snort, shaking your head.

Kili

The pair of you had been sparring, Kili parrying your every move before you finally sat down in defeat, accepting a newly-filled waterskin gratefully. The dwarf kept teasing you, saying all that he could about how well he knew you and the like. "Why, I practically know everything about you," he said with a proud look, "you'll not be surprising me any time soon." "Well, then, if you know me so well," you countered, "which tattoo is my favorite?" "Very funny, you haven't any..." Kili's eyes widened as you rolled up your sleeve, scanning every inch of ink. "...Tattoos." "What was that you were saying?" You asked, smirking into his speechless gape. Curse him, he regained his composure quickly, though, expression falling back into the smile you had to admit you loved. "Well, I certainly know which one is my favorite."

Bilbo

You start tugging at your top at the collarbones and Bilbo’s eyes practically pop out of his head when your tattoos peep at him. “You too?” He asks, tone incredulous. Chuckling in amusement, you fix him with an inquisitive look. “And what does that mean?” “Well,” he begins, voice faltering, “I suppose I just thought of that as, well, as a dwarf thing. What with Dwalin and all.” “Surprise,” you tease him with a grin, exposing more skin he flushes at the sight of, “but look, I think you’ll quite like this one…” Any tattoo you have from nature, after all, surely catches the hobbit's gentle eye in a heartbeat. “Oh, that is… quite beautiful,” Bilbo breathes with a faraway smile, “can I touch it? Wait, what am I saying, I’m sorry…”

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noroi1000 · 1 year

Text

Feeling Warm

Gojo (in toxic relationship) x maid reader

Words: 8k

Warnings: Angst with happy ending, his girlfriend abuse y/n. NSFW

Gojo's toxic girl name is Chloe. I don't mean to offend anyone with this.

Summary: You've been working for Gojo as a maid for two years now. His girlfriend recently showed up. But it was obvious how she used him.However, she did not accept that he broke up with her.He was looking for someone nice and sweet. On your example.You can't buy love, but you can buy fake love.He wanted someone to love him. So could you at least pretend and give him that fake love?

You couldn't do that.

You looked at the girl who clearly showed dislike for you.

You looked at your employer with whom you have been living for two years. He looked at you too.

You felt your wet coat soaking your apron that you were wearing.

Actually, it was your job to do household chores for your employers.

Cleaning, cooking, washing clothes. It's something you do.

Actually, Gojo-san is paying you what he shouldn't be paying. Because maid services are not that expensive. And he pays you more than he should.

Perhaps because he wanted you to be at his house all day when he was at home.

You don't know why he wanted it.

Once every two days when he was gone, you would come and clean his whole house.

And also on the day he was coming, you were there too, cooking him food and giving him a bath.

Sometimes he would ask you to give him a little massage when he was really tired.

He paid you that much, so you didn't say no to him.

Besides, you're not surprised that he asks if you can stay with him since he lives alone in such a big house.

It's like he's paying you extra for your company.

You could even do it without his money. After all, you've known him for two years.

But it's not like you don't need the money...

You get so much out of your monthly salary... You could buy yourself a new house, or even go to work by car instead of taking the bus or train.

But you help your family financially. You have younger siblings and you do not come from a rich family.

You want to support your parents, so you send them some money. Every month.

You leave as much as you need.

One day Gojo asked you how you are at home. Or should he pay you more because he noticed that the maid's salary is small. You told him that he pays you more than he should anyway. Because it was true.

He earns so much... He's so rich. Maybe that's why he thinks you don't make enough money.

He offered you more for an hourly rate, but you refused. You can't take money to sit in his house. It wouldn't be fair. And you're not that kind of person.

If you were doing more, or had much more work, you would have accepted a raise from him. However, you didn't do that much. He already gave you one raise because you got new responsibilities when he trusted you more.

You had the keys to his house. Besides, it took a while for him to let you come into his house when he wasn't there.

You knew he wasn't trusting easily. It wasn't bad.

Besides, you couldn't rob him... He was too nice a man for you.

You washed his clothes, you arranged it, you cleaned every corner of his house. You cooked him whatever he wanted.

You also took care of the garden on his estate.

You did everything right.

You took a job as his maid because you were looking for a job. And you were out of luck. Nothing was possible in your area. And sometimes you missed it because someone else was ahead of you.

In your family, your aunt works as a housewife for rich people.

At her suggestion, you wanted to do the same. If you knew how to cook and also did housework well, why not.

You put an ad in the paper because you didn't know anywhere else.

And a week later you got a call from your current employer.

He reportedly saw your ad in the newspaper while his friend was reading it. He needed someone to take care of his house because he is often busy. So he thought to talk to you.

You were very shy at your first interview. Because your employer was to be a young and very handsome man. He smiled at you, and even paid for your coffee when you met at the coffee shop.

You thought because of how nervous she was, he wouldn't give you the job. However, at the end of your meeting, he said that if you want, he will gladly hire you.

You wore different clothes at his house, and your apron was always there.

You were so tense when you finished something and you were afraid he wouldn't like it.

But he never complained.

You had the hardest time with his clothes and baths.

Because he asked you for all this.

You had problems in the beginning. You were afraid to ruin his very expensive clothes. You were ashamed to arrange his underwear...

You were even more ashamed when he asked you to wash his back while he was taking a bath in the bathtub.

He didn't seem ashamed or anything.

And when he saw your red face, he smiled.

His eyes were magical...

You don't know why, but it was.

The longer you were there, the better you got.

Even though you still blushed when he went shirtless or only in a towel, asking if you could give him a massage because his back hurts.

And your little hands on his muscular back were always something else.

You've been watching massage tutorials online. So you managed to make him relax.

You knew he was a stranger to you, but you couldn't do anything when you saw the lipstick stains on his shirt.

He was just your employer. a free man. You were not for yourself. you were nobody. You were just someone who cleaned and cooked for him.

He had his life. He was a young man. Of course he had needs. And since you haven't heard of him having a girlfriend, he must have met his needs somehow.

Your employer was a young playboy...

Someone whose charm made you feel something.

He was nice to you. He was handsome. He had a sense of humor. Besides, you, like no one else, got to know his childish behavior. And also that he is sometimes spoiled and doesn't care what other people feel. It was probably something others didn't see in him.

However, the real Gojo Satoru was someone who had goofy, irritating behavior. Who laughed at danger and people. Who immediately said what he thought. He was painfully honest.

So you understand why he didn't have a girlfriend or wife. Because it was better to leave the house, pick up some willing girl and then come home.

He once told you that all the women he knows closely say they would never want to be with him. They don't like his behavior.

He told you that as a joke.

And you answered him kindly.

„You're not that bad. If that's your character, you should look for someone who will accept you for who you are. I don't think you're as bad as others make you out to be."

He thanked you for the advice.

And then you noticed that he started looking for a girlfriend.

It was a year later when you met him.

You found out you fell in love with him...

Really...

Your employer was someone who was your type...

At first you thought he was serious and thoughtful. Someone mentally very adult who spends a lot of time at work.

And you got an adult child. Hell of a handsome and rich teacher (?) who is addicted to sweets and eats a lot, and acts childish despite his sometimes scary aura when he's serious.

You don't know if he's just a teacher or someone else as well. But you also don't know why his wardrobe has blindfolds and sunglasses that are so black you can't see anything.

You just don't know much about him.

And you guess you'll never know...

You're just his maid.

And he has a different taste in women...

He wouldn't want a girl whose job is to look after someone else's house.

Plus, you definitely look different than his girlfriend he has now.

Well, Chloe showed up four months ago. Their relationship was different than it is now. Well, Gojo hasn't changed. She has changed.

He, following your advice, was himself.

You couldn't have your crush, so you wanted to help him. You're too shy to tell him that. So you wanted to let go.

Ever since he first met her in the city until he finally brought her home.

And they've been a couple ever since.

He seemed pleased.

But she often told him to stop doing things.

When he asked you if you could bake him a cake, she forbade you, telling him that he can't because if he eats that much he'll get fat and she doesn't want to show up at the beach with a fat boy.

She didn't like some of his behavior. And you knew he was him then. the real him.

She often got annoyed when he played with her.

Until he, too, began to get annoyed with the way she behaved.

Completely different from the beginning.

At first she was nice and even sweet.

Now she was a real bitch.

She practically did not smile at him, sometimes she would come to his house to sit with him for a while.

He understood that she was working.

But at some point he found out that she quit her job.

She even wanted to move in with him, but he said it would be better for her to stay at her house because he is often away.

She didn't like it.

They were still a couple, but their relationship was strained.

They ignored each other. They quarreled often. And it ended up that when he started to get off balance, she ran away in fear, only to come back the next day.

For her there was a rule: sex fixes everything.

And yet she couldn't give him much.

Often her phone rang while they were fucking. She never said who was calling her, but she pushed him away and took the phone to his dressing room to talk.

And those moments that should have been a pleasure for them passed.

It's not like he was hurt. He didn't care. But he also had his needs.

And he complained later, even saying it to you while you were cooking.

Sometimes also when she had finished, she wouldn't let him come because she felt tired.

You often witnessed their quarrels.

They weren't that close after all.

He thought he finally found a nice girl.

However, that was not the case.

He hoped to find love, but he failed.

There was no love between them.

But he sometimes thought it was his fault.

You noticed that he really cares about others.

He was worried that he had done something wrong.

But she just wasn't accepted the way he is.

He also saw his account statements. Well, he let her use his credit card once or twice. And then she was just pulling it out of his wallet.

You witnessed it too.

She was probably transferring money from his account to hers. Because there was no way he would give her access to his account.

She forbade him to behave as he naturally behaved.

So over time, he noticed that she was bragging about him in front of her friends. And that she has new, fashionable and expensive clothes.

For "stolen" money from him.

Throughout the month this is going on, he's been trying to be calm.

Because he thought maybe he could do something to fix what he broke.

You were afraid to speak up, but at some point you got over it and told him it wasn't his fault.

Because it wasn't.

He didn't want it to turn out to be because of him. He really liked Chloe. But that was in the beginning.

She was sweet, kind and caring. Completely different from what she is now.

She didn't like you from the beginning. Perhaps because you were closer to your employer.

But she didn't even want to remember your name from the beginning.

She thought he should have a better maid because you often make mistakes.

But he didn't listen to her.

You didn't answer and apologized. You didn't want to be the cause of their quarrel.

She who hates you. And he who always stands by your side.

Would it be the same now?

"I've told you many times to call before you come here. You can't just walk into my house without asking, you know?"

"I didn't come in here. Your maid opened the door for me. At least she was useful for something after all..." She snarled throwing her wet coat at you. "Hang it up on the hanger, but gently. It's new. I don't want anything to break. Or better yet, dry it while you're here. I guess that's your job."

You caught the coat correctly, which helped your apron.

"Why are you looking at me? I don't pay to stand and do nothing." she said waving her hand at you.

"Sorry..." you grunted and walked away, walking towards the laundry room at home.

"You don't pay her. I do it." he said as you disappeared down the hall.

"But she's our cleaner."

"She's not a cleaner."

"So what is she doing? I believe she's here to clean your loo and wash your pants."

"She's supposed to be here. Unlike you." He growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

She put her purse on the kitchen table.

"Baby, what are you talking about?"

"Don't talk to me like that."

"What's going on? Something happened?" She looked at him questioningly.

"Don't pretend to be worried."

"But I–"

"Just shut up and get out of my house."

"This is our home." She interjected.

"You don't live here and you won't live here."

"Don't you love me? Satoru, we're a couple–."

"So maybe it's time to end it, don't you think?"

"Wha–" she moaned.

You've heard everything that's going on there.

"You're a total bitch who thinks she can take advantage of me and I won't know it. You think you can play with me? Don't make me laugh!"

She walked over to him and placed her hand on his cheek.

He moved away.

He only knew one thing.

That he shouldn't hit her.

Because then she'll make him an even worse monster than she is.

"Get out of my house and don't come back. These are my last words." He growled pointing to the front door.

"Satoru, I think you had a bad day at work. I'll come another time, okay?"

"No! Get the fuck out of my house and don't come back! I'm sick of how much you interfere in my life. Doesn't suit you? get the fuck out. You will not use me for your image. And I won't be with a bitch like you. Also, how's your next boyfriend?"

"You have a fever?"

"Just leave."

she snorted.

"Fine... I'll see you when you're feeling better..." She turned around and started adjusting her high heels. "Servant! My coat!"

Recently, Gojo asked you for one thing...

Don't listen to this person...

"What a bitch! How can you have a maid like that?! She doesn't even come when I call her! I don't want you to have a maid like that! It's not worth anything! How can you still pay her?!"

Her words hurt you.

This happened every time they argued.

She must have said something bad about you. She always put you down.

Is it because you're a maid?

After all, Gojo doesn't treat you like she does...

You really wonder how much longer this poor man will have to deal with her.

He frowned as he walked towards the door behind which you were standing.

"(y/n)." he called softly before entering.

He looked sadly at the fact that you were standing with your coat in your hands in front of the clothes dryer. One hand rubbed your eyes.

I'm sure you must have been sad to see her push you around so much.

"(y/n), give it to me." he said walking closer to you.

He gripped the clothes roughly, crumpling it.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to dry it." you said quickly.

"It's okay." He said smiling slightly at you.

He put his hand on your head.

"I'm going to get rid of that bitch. Don't worry."

You only left the laundry room after you heard the front door slam.

He sighed resignedly.

Even with curses he didn't have the same problem as with her...

What a life with this woman...

If she knew what he did every day, she would run away from him as soon as possible.

If she knew about all the "creatures" he had killed.

After all, his job is to kill curses and ghosts. And also curse users. And some curses can have feelings.

Besides, even something trying to kill him has more feelings than she does.

"Toxic bitch..." he spat out.

He really didn't want her to come here anymore. She just ruins the rest of his day.

Besides, their relationship was destroyed about three weeks ago.

And she still thinks they're fine.

And he constantly comes or invites him somewhere. Even if she's not welcome here.

He honestly told her that he was breaking up with her.

And she came back the next day, trying to convince him that nothing had happened.

He was just a boy with money and good looks to her. Nothing else mattered to her.

And he wasn't as spoiled as she was.

He has heard many times how her friends envy her such a handsome boy. So tall.

And that he has so much money.

He was walking benefits to her.

And he noticed it the moment she showed her true nature.

Sweet and innocent at first.

Then a toxic whore trying to make him crazy.

Plus, she was also taking it out on you. Punishing you for doing your job perfectly.

You were supposed to work for him, not her.

you work for him. Not for her.

So you don't have to listen to her. Especially now that she's nothing to him.

You stood behind him, staring at the back of his head.

His shoulders slumped as he sighed heavily.

He turned to look at you.

"I don't know how many more times I have to tell her we're not together." He laughed and took a few steps closer to you. "I hate fake people."

You looked at him questioningly.

He placed his hands on your shoulders.

"It's good that I can count on you. You're not fake."

You looked at him with brighter eyes.

He was so observant of people.

He even recognized fake love.

While he tries to take care of her and she wants to use him.

"I hope you don't take what she says personally."

"... It's fine... I know she wants to make my life miserable..." you replied with a very small smile.

It was sad that you always have to listen to them argue. And also some screams will always go at you.

"You were right," he suddenly said with his trademark smile. "I should look for someone who will accept me. Even though this sentence at the very beginning seemed so sad to me, now I see that it is sooo true~."

He didn't know if he should keep looking or stop. After all, he could live as he had before. Without someone like that.

And you...

You accept it, don't you?

Scratching the back of his neck slightly, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye.

You looked at him with a slight blush.

He met you two years ago, and he never once saw you change.

You are still the same.

You don't want money because you reject raises.

You live your life according to your morals.

Not like Chloe.

You're not like her.

You are sweet and caring. Nice and soft. You are always there to help him or to do something. You are doing what you are supposed to do.

Bypassing what you would have to do for you.

Being in his house, you live work.

And he knew your house was in a small block and also that you lived alone.

This job for him is your way of earning a living because you only work for him.

He could pay you even more. For being with him and helping him stay mentally healthy.

Because if you hadn't been there when they were arguing, he would have done something other than scream.

But having you there stops him.

And he doesn't regret what he chose.

He knew that keeping you working for Him no longer would be a bad choice.

It was the perfect choice.

For a man like him. For someone who is considered an anomaly and a monster among sorcerers. Someone who cannot be killed. Someone you can't get rid of.

Someone who cannot be deceived and taken advantage of. Because he is smarter and stronger.

No ideals. However, he needed something to distract him from his work.

Since death, which he sees almost every day.

Especially as a special grade sorcerer.

You didn't know he was a sorcerer, and you didn't need to know.

You might think he's kinky because he has blindfolds.

But even the fact that you sometimes thought he was a weirdo was something that felt good to him.

He needed peace. The warmth of the house. A soft feeling. He needed support and love.

Something to distract him from the constant killing.

Something nice.

Seeing your face has become a daily routine for him.

And when you're gone, he worries.

You care for him. You give him what he needs.

Nice feeling.

In return, he pays you to work in his house.

Even though you give him that feeling of your own free will.

"Dinner time is approaching. Would you like something special to eat?" You asked suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

It was weird when he was standing in front of you staring at your face with his hand on the back of your neck. And he never took his eyes off you once.

You weren't even sure if he blinked.

It was a moment of longer seconds.

But he's never looked at you like that.

It was a look he didn't look at Chloe. As if he was thinking hard about something.

He won't fire you, will he?

You tried to break the atmosphere by asking him about dinner.

You cook for him often, so you know his culinary tastes.

He will eat practically anything.

But you don't serve him alcohol because he doesn't like it.

Even though he always has a few bottles of sweet wine in the pantry, he never drinks it.

This is where it lies if guests come to visit him.

And his guests are most often his students, who are minors.

So they drink tea, coffee, water or juice.

The wine will probably stay there for a long time.

The only thing he'll take with the alcohol is cake. But there is one condition - it cannot be felt strongly. Because according to Him, the bitter, pungent taste spoils the sweetness.

So it's simple. You bake him cakes that have nothing to do with alcohol. Same with other food.

You are not a professional cook, but by using recipes from the Internet you manage to cook something.

Let him tell you anything now...

Just to distract you from the way he looks at you.

You feel guilty about his arguments with his girlfriend.

No. She is his ex-girlfriend.

He broke up with her over the phone because she kept running away from the subject.

But she still thinks they are together.

He does not want to. So he shows it straight to her.

Oh god... You really don't want you to be the reason they broke up.

What finally happens is that he takes your side and they argue...

Always been like that.

Every time she insulted you, he took your side.

You must repay him somehow.

"...Will you make an onigiri for me?" He asked suddenly.

Now you don't know if he was thinking about this or something else...

"Of course. Would you like something right inside?" you asked, adjusting your apron.

"... I'm relying on you." He said with a smile, winking at you.

Then he adjusted his glasses on his nose.

You only know one thing about these glasses...

That he has really sensitive eyesight and apparently his eyes hurt when they are not covered.

you understand it. Someone has sensitive hearing, smell. He has a sensitive eye.

And those glasses suit him too.

"I'll take a bath and come. oh! Could you make a little more and pack for me for work tomorrow?"

"Yes." you answered.

"I have one student who loves onigiri. I'd like to give them some too." He said with a smile.

How can someone as caring as him not find someone good?

"You have a wet apron on." He said as his smile faded slightly. He pointed to the white fabric on your body.

"Oh, that's nothing. I'm going to cook anyway." You waved your hand slightly. "Prepare a bath for you, Gojo-san?"

"I'll take a quick shower and be back." He said as he started to walk away.

This man deserves more than he gets from life...

He has no family, many of his friends are gone...

Others, despite being his friends, are also sometimes annoyed.

Why does a nice man like him only get so much?

He's rich, but you don't think he cares about his wealth.

He is content with the simplest things. Homemade food, little things. Even if he likes some expensive clothes.

The people he dated always had something of the artifice.

The women he dated.

He didn't have much emotion to show...

And he didn't want to open up to anyone.

Then why does his mood change so much when he talks to you?

"I'm stupid." He laughed from sitting on the floor of the large shower, a smile on his lips as his eyes were closed.

Feeling the warm water run through his hair and over his skin.

"To you, I'm probably a goddamn playboy who fucks everything I like..."

Even though he said it out loud with a smile and a soft chuckle, there was a little pain in his voice.

Because it was true.

He didn't trust people. He didn't get into relationships. He simply provided an outlet for his needs.

But he also needs trust...

Someone will trust him, but he will not completely trust anyone.

You spend your days at his house and you're not a lying person. You only lie about what's wrong with you.

It's up to you to work for him.

He trusted you.

You will probably never share his feelings because you know him. You know what kind of man he is. You know what he really is. And he's probably not your ideal man.

Money is important in life...

People pay to receive affection...

So maybe he could also pay you to give him some affection?

He wanted home warmth, security and love.

Pleasant moments. Not only sexual pleasure. He wanted pleasant moments spent with a smile on his face.

Maybe if he paid you more and asked for even a fake relationship, maybe you'd agree?

He's happy to come home from work when he knows you're there, waiting for him with lunch.

With the relaxing sight of your smile.

It's easy to say you're friends.

But he would like you to be at his house all the time. When he wanted a feeling of warmth.

He was able to provide you with everything you need.

Everyone would ever give in to money... He wanted you to do it too, and maybe you'd accept money from him to pretend you love him...

There's also a chance you won't agree.

His cunning made his shower last even longer.

He didn't know there was a scene he should know about.

"Chloe-san? I didn't think you'd come back—" You said as the girl pushed the door open to go inside.

Her boots and coat were dripping with water and mud from the rain outside.

"Shut up. Where is Satoru?" She cut you off and gave you the coat again to hang it up.

"Takes a bath." you answered normally.

"No difference. What are you doing for dinner?" She replied indifferently, taking a seat at the table and pulling out her phone.

"Gojo-san asked for onigiri."

"That's disgusting... I want a fresh Parisian roll." she growled.

"Gojo-san wants an onigiri." You replied directly.

"Tch... I really don't understand why he keeps you here if you can't follow simple instructions! He's probably paying you to be his fuckhole. I can't believe he fell so low...

Does she really think you're here as a prostitute?

"I'm doing what Gojo-san asked me to do. Since he asked me to cook it, I'll do it."

"Fine! Make me some jasmine tea!"

You sighed and turned on the electric kettle, poured dried jasmine into the jug, then poured boiling water over it to make it brew.

You poured the tea into the cup you handed her.

She immediately took it into her mouth, suddenly spitting it out at you.

"You're stupid?! It's too hot!" She said standing up.

She put her fingers to her lips.

"It's tea-"

"Shut up! You can't even do that right! Who sane gives hot tea to drink!"

You gave her freshly brewed tea... I wonder why it was hot.

Maybe because you brewed it freshly.

It's not your fault she wanted to drink it right away.

Neither the Gojo nor you drink anything warm immediately after brewing, and you wait until it cools down.

And if she wants the tea to be at the right temperature right away, she demands the impossible.

"I don't want it. Take it!"

She took the plate with the cup in her hand, and instead of giving it to you gently, she handed it to you quickly and let go, causing the tea to spill over your hands.

Reflexively, to avoid more burns, you dropped it through your sore fingers, and the drink spilled onto your apron and your sleeves. Caused a brief sting, but the clothes protected your skin. Luckily it wasn't boiling water, it was hot water.

It wasn't that hot because it had cooled down a bit in the jug. But that doesn't change the fact that your hands are burning.

The cup fell to the floor shattering.

You held your red hands, and you knew she was about to scream.

But before she could, you heard a voice.

"What's going on here?"

"Satoru! Your maid gave me too hot tea! And she even dropped a cup!" She shouted pointing at you.

"It's normal for the tea to be hot at first. And I also know that what you say is not entirely true. Besides, you weren't supposed to come back here." He said, adjusting the towel around his neck.

He looked at you and your little tears in your eyes. The skin after the burn hurts.

He walked over to you and looked at your wet sleeves and apron.

He gently grabbed your reddened hands, and placing his hand on your back, he gently pulled you towards the kitchen which was right next to you, as she sat at the island kitchen table, and he turned on the cool water, gently sliding your hands under the stream.

He stood next to you, holding your smaller hands on top of his, and watched the pain in your face slowly disappear. Just like redness on the skin.

It's lucky that tea didn't hurt you enough to cause severe burns.

"She's so clumsy. You should cut her salary for that."

"I should throw you out of here now."

"What?"

"You weren't supposed to come back here."

"I came to tell you that we're not going to my cousin's party in two. I ordered us matching outfits. The package will arrive here tomorrow. When you have it, let me know." She said standing next to the chair. "Don't deal with her. The floor is dirty. Let her clean it up."

"Nobody's going to listen to you." He told her and turned off the water. "Besides, we broke up two weeks ago."

"I don't accept breaking up over the phone. It's like it doesn't exist." She looked at her nails.

He chuckled, drying your hands.

"Except for the past two weeks, I've been telling you the same thing every time we see each other. I'm not your boyfriend and I regret that I ever was."

"You can't break up with me."

"I can't. Because I already did."

"Without me you have nothing. My friends are important people."

"your friends are. And you are nobody. Do you seriously think I have nothing? Look around." He chuckled sarcastically.

A Gojo saying such things while laughing is ghastly.

"I don't want to see you in my house any longer. I don't want to see your fake face one more time. We understand each other?"

"You're so–!" She started to speak but he interrupted her.

"There's a lot you don't know about me. Get out of here before you find out something you shouldn't know."

His aura was intimidating.

Even you felt a chill hit when he said that.

Some strange energy hit you.

you shivered.

"You know what... Fuck this bitch as long as you want! I do not care! There are so many other better men than you in the world!"

"You finally understood that we're not a couple! Congratulations!" He put his hand over his eyes, laughing like a madman.

Then, seeing his behavior, she left.

He was glad he would never see her again.

"Gojo-san..." you said and looked at him.

His hand was still holding yours.

He looked at you with warm eyes and his crazy smile changed to a gentle one.

"Call me Satoru. Like I told you before."

"I'm just your maid. I-"

"You're closer to me than that fucking bitch was. And you talk to me like we're strangers."

"Sorry..."

"You have nothing to apologize for." he said laying his head on yours. Gently and comfortingly hugging you.

"Dinner will be delayed. And I broke a cup."

"I know it's her fault. Don't worry."

"But-."

He interrupted you.

"Go to my dressing room and get some clean clothes, okay?"

"I'll be home soon anyway. I'll cook you dinner and be back–."

"Nope..." he said firmly.

"I should take care of you, so let me take care of you. Why don't you stay here today?"

"I'm not sure..."

"I'll pay extra for night work."

"I have nothing to do. Unless you want me to do something else. Besides, I don't want any more money. You're paying me too much for a few hours a day anyway."

"Is that important?" he asked.

You thought he was ignoring you, but he was clearly listening to what you were saying.

You take your job seriously and honestly...

Your deal was different than what he wanted to do now.

"So stay as my guest. Take clothes from my wardrobe and feel at home. Because this is your second home, isn't it?"

You nodded.

After all, he was right.

You'll wash his clothes later and everything will be as before.

You went to his room.

He meanwhile grabbed a broom and picked up the broken glass from the floor.

When you came back, you were wearing his gray T-shirt that he wore when he was at home.

Your apron was dirty and you had to start cooking. So you took a T-shirt that you know isn't new.

What would happen if you ruined his expensive T-shirt?

He watched you go to the kitchen.

He saw you weren't wearing new pants.

You told him your pants weren't dirty.

His phone rang and he told you right away it was from his job.

You started making the onigiri the way he wanted.

You had some more work ahead of you because he wanted to take some for the students.

That's why you prepared more rice and other ingredients.

He didn't come back to the kitchen after someone called, and you're guessing he's still talking. Someone calls him often.

But you did your job anyway.

You prepared everything as it was supposed to be, packing the excess into boxes.

You left some for him and waited for him to come back.

According to what you had, you ate with him. So you took two onigiri while eating this.

He still hasn't come back.

It was getting late...

You started washing the dishes you used to prepare the food.

As you were rinsing your plate, very suddenly you felt and saw his hands wrap around your waist.

A common thing when he wanted to tease you or scare you.

He appeared in front of you without a sound.

"How are your hands?" he asked as he watched you wipe the plate and set it aside.

"I'm fine. It's not hurt." you replied while continuing your work.

He was a man of no barriers and often invaded your private space when you became friends.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." You smiled. It's nice that he cares about you. "The onigiri for you for dinner are in the fridge. I didn't know when you were coming to eat."

"And you?"

"I already ate. I wanted to wait for you, but you didn't come. So substantial. I made about 20 extra."

"Thanks."

He was kind of quiet now... It was a different behavior than usual.

He didn't show you his face.

"Is everything OK?" you asked suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah..."

You felt something was wrong.

He wasn't sad about what happened. For those three weeks they often quarreled when she suddenly came when he didn't want to see her.

Now it was different.

Maybe he was sorry that she hurt you?

So yes, hot tea on the skin is definitely painful. But not that much.

It was quiet, and he suddenly reached for the faucet, turning off the water as you rinsed the next plate.

You turned your head to the side, looking at the side of his face.

He wasn't smiling. Which only showed that he didn't do it for fun.

"I was looking for someone sweet and nice because I'm used to the way you treat me." He said suddenly.

"Huh?" You groaned as you felt the heat on your cheeks and in your chest.

"I forgot that I don't need to look for someone like this. Because I can have a person close to me who is a perfect match for these characteristics. You are sweet and kind. And it's because of you that I want to feel it. I want to know that there is someone like that with me. Sweet and nice. Why should I look when the perfect person is already next to me?

"I–" you blushed.

"I'll pay you. Double salary. Triple. I'll pay you whatever you want."

You widened your eyes. You didn't know what to say at all.

"I'll give you what you want. For you to be with me as you are now, but in a relationship."

Love can't be bought...

He knew about it.

But he also knew he could pay you to be with him. As it has been for two years.

He paid you because that's how you worked.

It won't be a real relationship, but he'll know then that he's coming back to the warmth of home. To someone who will be waiting for him there.

Even if you don't fall in love with him that way.

Love cannot be bought.

But you can buy fake love.

You may not love him, but he wants you to at least pretend to love him.

That you at least treat him as if you were in love with him.

So he could live the lie he arranged to find what he was looking for.

Since there is no one who can love him for who he is, he can at least make someone pretend to love him.

It was hard for him to say it before, but he fell in love with you.

But he can't force you to love him.

That's why he wanted the person he loved to at least pretend to love him. It would be better than living in a relationship that would never work out.

"... Satoru, I..."

"I'll pay you to be with me..."

Everyone needs money.

You too.

But you don't want to accept that kind of money from him...

Not like this...

You heard the desperation in his voice.

You could never accept such an offer...

Not so...

You don't want to make money off of him by giving him a fake relationship...

You don't want to give him a fake relationship for making him pay you a lot...

You can't do this to him...

He is someone who was close to you... But you didn't want it that way.

"...I can't...I can't like this..."

His grip on your waist lessened.

"I'm sorry..." he said. "I'm sorry I even suggested it... I could have guessed you'd say no... You're not the kind of person who would do anything for money..."

He suddenly turned you to him, and you saw his sad face.

Tears welled up in your eyes just seeing him.

But he suddenly grabbed you and picked you up, placing you on the kitchen counter next to the sink.

"At least let me be with you as much as I want. For this one moment..."

Before you could react, his lips were pressed against yours.

He expected you to push him away. That you hit him.

But you stay still.

Without moving.

You let him kiss you.

And as he pulled away, he saw tears welling up in your eyes.

"Oh no... I'm sorry... It was so sudden... Please don't cry, I don't want you to cry. It's my fault... I didn't mean to impose anything on you." He said quickly and started wiping away your peacefully flowing tears.

With his hands on your cheeks, he thought he was the worst person...

He shouldn't have done that...

"Forget I did that... that I said that..."

"...No..." You placed your hands over his, with a soft whisper. "I won't forget what you did..."

"I..." he began, but didn't say anything until his next words came out. So a long while later. "I don't know what love is... I never knew. But I'd like to tell you that I love you... Because that's probably what I feel for you..."

Her eyes widened at what he said. He tightened his fingers on his hands and your lips turned into a slight smile.

But still a crying smile.

"(y/n)..."

"I never expected to hear those words from you..."

"I know I suck... I know my character is fucking not what you to like... But don't let me live in suspense. Just honestly tell me that you don't want me around."

He was used to not having anyone close to him.

He probably also experienced it when someone told him that they did not love him.

He's already suffered a loss. So he's probably going to be heartbroken now too.

"Just tell me and I'll try to make everything back to how it used to be..." He rested his forehead against yours.

"Why can't you just shut up..." You cried.

You grabbed his neck holding him and put your mouth on his.

He opened your mouth with his, feeling the sign that you let him.

And he connected your lips more demandingly than gently.

He pulled away, keeping his tongue slightly sticking out, watching your tongues connect with a thin string of saliva.

You lowered your head, hiding your red face.

"To means..." he said.

You had your hands on his shoulders.

"...Don't ask me if I'll be with you for money no more! If I can do it for free...!"

His eyes lit up when he heard that.

And then he moved closer to you, hugging you.

A strange weight fell from his chest.

And let you cry your tears on his shoulder.

You didn't know when, but you found yourself in his bedroom.

And he was there to lie down gently on the bed.

And pin you to the mattress with my hands next to your head. Still keeping your thighs on his hips like when you were sitting on the kitchen counter.

He opened your mouth with his thumb, using his tongue to play with yours.

His other hand reached for your stomach, pulling the hem of his shirt up against your body.

"Can I?"

It was the first time he could say he had sex.

Before, he was just fucking.

Today it was different.

The way he gently held your body as his hips hit yours as he stood behind you.

Your hands on the bed so you don't fall.

Your hand sometimes grabs the hand that held your waist before he wrapped his forearm around you.

He then held you upright, letting your hand rest on his hand on your waist and the other placed on his hip as he continued to move his hips like that.

Quickly but gently.

Making you crumble beneath him as his tip digs into your cervix.

You've never seen him naked in such an exposed way.

You never touched him the way you touch him now.

You've never felt the way his big cock straightens your insides, carving his shape into you.

You're supposed to wrap it perfectly, because you'll be doing it more often.

In your house. So here.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against the bed. You looked down and saw moisture running down your thighs. The combination of your juices with his saliva when he made you orgasm for the first time.

He was experienced. You noticed it. But he didn't get tired of the soft way you moaned and shivered under him. Letting him use your body.

He wanted you to do that for him endlessly.

You never knew your employer had such a big dick.

You couldn't even think about the fact that he had other women in bed before you.

But none of them were with him like you are.

That day you were fired from your job.

At your own request.

Because you wouldn't be able to take money from him since what you're doing is for both of you.

Just like what you're doing now.

Your Clit was swollen as he reached out to rub you.

Adding a little more to the moans.

His bangs were combed to one side as his hair was sticky with sweat.

He didn't want to end it quickly.

He wanted to enjoy your first time together as long as he could.

So he took his time.

He was firm in pounding your hips, but he wasn't doing it to please him.

He always wanted to please him, and by the way the partner he had then.

And now, he wanted to give you pleasure. So he pushed with his hips to hit those points that make you moan the loudest.

He pressed his hips against you to see how well you held him and tightened inside.

To move his cock inside you again later.

To also pull it out and then put it back inside you, watching your pussy expand as much to take it in.

But you took it so well.

Every part of your body was perfectly made to fit his body.

Any mark on your skin, any blemish, it didn't matter. Because your whole body suited him.

Something that doesn't lie. It's not fake. It's not artificial...

It is not possible to buy with money.

Especially when you fell on the bed with your ass up while his cock was still embedded in you. You fell as he momentarily let go of you to shove his length into you as he slid out.

Teasing your sensitive points and clitoris, you clenched on him as you received an orgasm that took the strength from your legs. And he didn't catch you before you lay on the bed, just sticking your ass out to him. Because you felt the constant pleasure coming from his thick length inside you.

He wanted more.

He wanted to know you were his.

Right now and you will.

Pulling his cock slowly out of your thirsty hole, he gently lifted you up, positioning your body on your back, head below the pillows.

He placed your hips on his thighs, slapping the tip against your sensitive clit several times.

Before he pushed himself into you, reaching a new low. Your calves on his biceps as he pushed at a fast pace.

You looked at him with hazy eyes. Sensitive.

But you didn't tell him to stop.

You didn't want him to stop. Not when it's so good...

He kissed you almost all the time. His thrusts became sloppy.

His hands around you as he thrusts into you like there's no end to it.

As he made low grunts into your mouth, and low moans.

Filling your mouth with it the same way it filled your pussy.

He felt warm. Inside and outside.

He didn't want to give away the wonderful feeling of warmth you gave him and you are giving him even more now.

#jjk #gojo satoru #jjk x you #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 5 months

Text

Yves (yandere oc)

Tw: stalking, infantilization, obsessive behavior, reader cheating on yves hypothetically, gore

enjouy

Yves is a man who knows how to take care of himself well. Adorning expensive scents, maintaining his hygiene, and diligently attending his regular self-pampering saloon, manicure, and facial treatments. His skin is porcelain, supple, and free of any imperfections. His hair is full, lush, shiny, pitch-dark; soft, and smooth.

He is a man who values the importance of physical fitness, strength, and the sculpting of the body, daily exercise in his modest yet sophisticated home gym is a must. Though he also understands the essence of moderation in training, he has a towering stature with a lean, muscular frame; no one in the right state of mind would ever call him frail or weak. But no one would accuse him of taking performance-enhancing drugs either.

His fashion and mannerisms exude class and elegance. His aesthetic and tastes are nothing to scoff at, very few could meet his standards. Even if they could, it would be close to improbability to keep up.

He presents his best image of himself to the world every day without missing a beat. There is no such thing as 'sloppy' in his vocabulary. All things are done with such precision and care, his rouge immaculately lining his sultry lips. A dusting of bronze eyeshadow accentuated his emerald irises and sensual yet steely, calculating gaze. Clad in quality clothes that usually cover him from the neck down, he moves fluidly with them with such grace; as if it was his second skin. Yves dislikes having anything loud and overwhelming on him, his palettes are of black, white, greys, and neutrals. He does not like to stand out. But he will; in a room filled with commoners. As he seems ethereal.

His money matches his spoiled lifestyle. It is unknown what he does for a living, but what he brings in a night, is more than what a normal, middle-class worker earns in a decade. Yves prefers not to discuss about his line of work, however, all you need to know is that he works remotely; and his hours are extremely flexible. There are times, rare, but possible, that he has to physically travel to someplace. He would be away for days and come back as pristine as ever. However, to the trained eye, he comes back exhausted, irritated, and freshly scarred. Perhaps that is why he loves to conceal. He does it so well.

He loves so obsessively, so consumingly; and he hides it well. Yves notices each and every minute detail about you. From the number of breaths you take when you're calm versus in an agitated state, to the fidgeting between your index finger and thumb behind your back. All of it means something, and goodness, does it help to accurately predict your next move.

Without a doubt, he knows you more than anyone. Even yourself. You don't come even close to the knowledge he gathered on you. He would know what you're feeling before you even realize it. The body works faster than the brain, and the mind gives up before the body, as they say. He observes and appreciates what no one sees or deems important. You are under his constant scrutiny with or without your awareness. Yves knows what you like, he knows what you hate. He knows what you will like; he knows what you will hate; and he is never wrong. Not ever.

Drives upon digital drives of data are stored within his office, graphical statistics, images, annotations, hypotheses, diagrams, conclusions, and many more, of one study subject: You. Not all of them were stored in hardware. Yves has a library, bookshelves upon bookshelves of research-level papers in monstrously thick paper binders with him the sole author. There is a section where his information vault is full of academic papers related to you and your behavior, where he could appropriately draw conclusions and compare his findings with others.

His collection spanned over years, decades, even. He studies you intensively and he enjoys it. He reviews the extensive hoard of dossiers on you to keep his mind sharp, and memory fresh. All while you go on living your life normally, without suspecting something is awry. Everything you do is data. Precious data.

Yves knows what you want at any given moment and your words or awareness aren't necessary.

He orchestrated the ideal meeting sequence. Whether that be a meet-cute at the local cafe, a charming first encounter by picking your fallen papers after you 'accidentally' crashed into him, a flirty exchange that escalated into something more at a lonely bar, having his attractive dating profile appear on your monitor screen, being paired up as a classmate or colleague for a project, being your saving grace from an abusive home or partner, being your "blind" date your friend set you up with, as the religious, alluring man that takes your attention away from the lord at churches, the man who offered his umbrella when you're stuck in the rain, maybe even just starting off with innocent small talk in the elevator that leads to months of brief chatter, but no progress; all of it has one common denominator: it is specially tailored for you and no one else.

And you will inevitably fall for him. Yves knows you but you don't know him. He knows what gets you excited, flustered, giddy, and hot under the collar. Most importantly: he is patient. Like a predator stalking its' prey, his patience knows no bounds. He will not slip up and make a silly mistake because he wants you so badly. He absolutely does, but he is a man of discipline. Yves achieved full control over himself, and that is what made him so menacing. No human has ever done so except him.

Perhaps, you might be suspicious of him. You're pleasantly surprised when he dims the lights that have been irritating you for a while without you saying anything. Then, it happens again; Yves hands you a refreshing bottle of your favorite drink as you're starting to feel thirsty and lethargic. And again; he politely dismissed your friends when you're silently starting to feel sick of socially interacting with others. And again; You're cranky because you received an itchy or painful rash, maybe you live near stagnant water, and mosquitos are common. Yves would almost instantly relieve that by wordlessly applying a special ointment on your skin. He knows what to do.

And again; You're craving seafood, maybe. Then, tonight's date is at an exquisite restaurant that serves only the finest salmon, crabs, lobsters, and whatever else you might want. Lucky guess? And again; he toggles the control panel for the air conditioning unit to cool the room further. You then just realized you're starting to feel a bit too warm for comfort, but you haven't even broken a sweat yet, how did he know? This cannot be a coincidence.

It's delightful, not needing to ask. Not needing to demand or beg someone to make your life easier for you. Having a second 'you' doing the things necessary to keep you comfortable and happy. Having someone to read your mind.

But, then again. Someone is reading your mind. It can make one feel naked and vulnerable. As if, you can't even have the privacy of your own thoughts anymore. All that is visible and invisible is broadcast for everyone to witness. If you're the type to overthink, this could induce some sort of paranoia.

Bold of you to assume that Yves hasn't accounted for that yet.

If his calm, no-nonsense demeanor, reassuring smile, and gentle gaze aren't enough to lull you into a false sense of security; maybe his quiet, baritone, seductive voice with a charismatic coupling of a posh European accent would do the trick? It is quite possible that still wouldn't be able to soothe your nerves. No matter what, Yves always has something under his sleeve to overcome every obstacle in his way.

His body language is outstandingly alluring. He utilizes his looks and his hair, you might catch him leaning forward and playfully twirling a lock of his hair around his slender fingers. He appears to be tremendously interested in you and enamored by you. If that is what you like. Otherwise, he would keep his composure. Have a faint smile on his lips as his eyes are trained on you. Nodding at appropriate times.

Yves has exemplary table manners and etiquette, and his posture is confident and tall. He prefers to listen; of course, he does, as he rests his hands on his knee; his legs are delicately crossed and still. Best be careful of what you say and when you say it; And how you say it. He always remembers.

Yves takes care of you much, much more than he takes care of himself. He is already a marvelous chef with indeterminate years of experience but for certain, more than a decade. Cooking healthy and delicious meals for you and himself. He actually prefers to cook instead of going out, he knows your portions and the nutrients your body truly needs to feel satiated. He knows how you like your eggs done or if you even like eggs at all. He is an expert in making dishes tasty and simultaneously fitting your dietary needs and, or restrictions.

It's only fitting that he lives in a richer neighborhood. However, he isn't swayed by flashy displays of wealth in the form of purchasing mansions, luxury cars, and yachts. Yves owns a modest two-story house with a modern finish. As modest as a billionaire could be. However, it is small enough for Yves to be successful in maintaining the cleanliness and the state of the building himself. He has no hired help, unlike his neighbors. He is responsible for scrubbing the entire house from top to bottom every week. He is responsible for keeping his lawn trimmed and even. All of that, he still has ample time to accompany you everywhere you want him to be, keep up with his self-grooming rituals, and conduct his extensive research. It's almost as if Yves has 72 hours a day instead of the regular 24.

His humble abode follows a modern gothic aesthetic. Dark yet soothing. Unfortunately, he has a very strict set of rules as to how his home should appear to him, you, and others. Fussy about the choice of curtains, floorings, flooring, bathroom towels, and even the cutlery available in the kitchen; he would politely express his displeasure if you were to tamper with anything without his approval. However, he will provide a large room for you to express yourself, Yves will be more than happy to provide whatever you require to make your designated room purely yours.

Although he finds delight in serving your (almost) every verbal or silent request, he isn't spineless. Disrespect and rudeness are unacceptable, he will not entertain you if you're treating him as subhuman. Yves made sure you understand that he is deserving of esteem and dignity as well. He does that by calmly but firmly explaining that he does indeed love you and would do anything to make you happy. But he will not accept unnecessary callousness from you. Hence, it is not at all advisable to take your frustrations out on him.

"I understand you're upset that this happened. I have your best interests at heart, I have been nothing but compassionate to you. Please, do not act cruel towards me." That is what he would have said in such events. His scolding glare, stern body language, and muted yet assertive tone are usually enough to snap anyone out of their anger, retract their hurtful words, and hang their head in shame as they mutter an apology.

Yves will relax, soften his gaze, and fully demonstrate his appreciation for your remorse. The reward for your desired behavior is dependent on your files. It could be as simple as a forehead kiss, or it could be a platter of intricately cut fruits. Regardless, his main priority will always be solving your problems and making you the happiest version of yourself.

Perhaps, to a select few, you're undeterred by him calling you out. Maybe you would amp up your mistreatment towards him. No matter, he knows what to do. He is the master of bending reality by meticulously carrying out his convoluted plans. He could orchestrate the perfect circumstance without you ever suspecting he has any involvement in it, and it will influence you to change your ways, to be kinder towards him. Rest assured, he will never mirror your actions, as he believes it's unnecessary and horrible to treat the love of his life that way.

You could have tried to beat him into a pulp out of the blue and he would have never thought of doing that back. Of course, he will appropriately defend himself and obviously, you will not listen to reason. So he stays eerily silent as he blocks all your hits or restrain your wrists enough to protect himself, but not enough to hurt you. Or he simply walks away. Again, depending on the situation and your personality. Are you going to cause yourself harm? Or will your tantrum stop when he pays no mind and it's all for show?

Could it be that you're having a meltdown out of overwhelm instead? Quite unlikely, Yves would have swiftly eliminated all the factors that can cause a mental or physical overload before it happens. Nonetheless, Yves is not an omnipotent, omnipresent god (but he is close to being one) and you, as a human, are facing constant changes. That is why he has to update his database often for any new observations and review past records regularly.

On the topic of keeping records, his collection indeed includes your medical history. Even that unknown to the hospitals. The number of scrapes and cuts you have gotten, even paper cuts, the time and date you received that minor injury, and how long it takes to heal. Your genome sequence and many reports on your probability of developing certain diseases. Your dental records, your blood work archives, any and every radiological image taken of your being, your prescription details, vaccination history or lack thereof, and many more.

Yves could recite the values on a blood test you took a decade ago by heart. He would accurately and nonchalantly describe the figures on that sheet of paper. As if he was reciting the alphabet.

He will undeniably be the first person to notice that you're falling ill or close to catching a cold. You might think he has a 6th sense that detects your sickness before any symptoms start to arise. But his sharp eyes, nose, ears, and mind already picked up on all the signs that doctors will miss.

You could be his little prince or princess while you're unwell. He would be at your beck and call with no complaints. Yves would fix up a hearty meal, spoon-feed you, and stay up all night comforting you to sleep. He has no problem if you get any mucus, vomit, or other bodily fluids on him. He will settle your situation first, valuing your dignity and feelings of utmost importance before cleaning himself up.

Or, maybe you feel pathetic. Maybe you would very much prefer to continue working or studying and going about with your day. You don't like the feeling of being pitied or pampered just because you're sick. You don't like having your autonomy taken over just because you're temporarily weakened; or permanently disabled. Yves understands that.

Yves allows you to have your cake and eat it too. You may think that he's not watching or caring because he isn't around you. But he always is; and to a certain degree, you knew that. He made sure of it. Yves is always a couple seconds away from helping you. Though, you wouldn't know that a lot of the time, you're living a lie.

The thesis that you're slaving over for months despite your chronic illnesses, sacrificing a few years off your lifespan, you got an outstanding award for it. But your actual thesis is in Yves library; it was abysmal. You would have definitely failed if he hadn't intercepted the network and swapped the file with a wonderfully written one instead. Written by the man himself after he spent as much time studying about your course as you in secret.

It's a miracle you passed your final exams even though all you did in the past month was break down into a messy puddle of tears. Nothing a bit of hush money between your lecturer and your significant other couldn't fix.

The balance sheet that you're supposed to submit to your higher-ups. That would have landed you in jail at worst and fired at best. You did it while you were severely sleep deprived and the numbers were all wrong and there were many missing figures that Yves had to locate. If you pay attention, the red pens in his pencil holder are almost out of ink.

You would have poisoned your customers if he didn't buy the entire ruined batch of bread from your bakery. All this while, you thought Yves was an event manager who chose your business as catering.

You would have killed hundreds of passengers if he didn't sneak into the hangar and tightened that one bolt you missed. Either due to carelessness or otherwise.

He does a very convincing job impersonating a respected doctor at the hospital you work in. He forged the signature as an imposter, legally implying that "he" was the one who administered 100 times the appropriate dosage of insulin. You, as a nurse, mistook 1 unit of insulin for 1 ml. The doctor takes the fall and you get off scot-free. Maybe a bit shaken because you know the truth. At least you will be a lot more careful next time.

You're lucky he is also an expert in all things coding. Yves needs a glasses prescription change after staring at his computer monitor for so long to wipe out the bugs, faulty lines of code, and vulnerabilities. If you were to publish this for the massive corporation that you're working with, lawsuits would come flying right at you like darts.

Yves is constantly cleaning up after you without your awareness. Yet you still get all the praise and recognition for it. He is very content with that.

Yves rarely faces any ailments of his own. As reiterated over and over again, he takes care of himself better than most of the world takes care of their children; and his genes are almost invincible. However, as he is still human (even that may sometimes be debatable), he will succumb to an absurdly powerful virus and develop the flu. But you wouldn't know aside from his increased hand washing and his unusual choice to wear two surgical masks around you. He is still carrying himself with grace, fluidity, and with the energy of a healthy, young man.

If the illness is particularly contagious and he knows that it could put a severe toll on your body if you catch it, he will isolate himself and hire someone competent to take care of you from behind the scenes, out of your sight. He worries for you.

There are very few people whom he would trust. He has no family that you know of, he never speaks about his friends; only his associates. Even if you're the most insecure person in the world, only in Yves will you feel secure. He seems to devote all his time to you and more. He is a self-sufficient man who built everything he has from the ground up. It seems unfair that he knows you like he lived in your body twice, yet his last name is unknown to you. Yves said that he does not own a surname, it's a bit hard to believe him but what else could you do? You're not the one with the magnifying glass, he is.

He is a very private person. He does indulge you with information about himself from time to time. Like how he enjoys caviar on toast points, how he prefers buying high quality bags and clothes with discrete logos from obscure yet lavish designers and companies; he is fond of its' meticulous craftmanship and durability. He plays the grand piano and the harp, as evidenced by the presence of a grand piano and a harp in his designated music room; things that you would expect him to like or dislike based on the stereotypes of rich people.

You already made assumptions that he spoke English and French, based on his name and accent. Which was accurate. What came to you as a surprise is that he also spoken fluent Mandarin and Cantonese over the phone before. You were watching a cooking video one day on your smartphone, there was a voice over in Russian. Yves gently rubbed your shoulder to announce his presence before handing you your glass of water. It was a shock to know that he could translate the whole thing effortlessly to English. He even offered to make the food shown for you.

It puzzled you to no end when you caught him leisurely reading a set of papers printed in Hindi Devanagari. He was sipping on his steaming cup of black tea, not needing an ounce of effort to get through the jargon. He told you that he is reading a published journal article about Ayurvedic medicine.

You asked him what other languages he speaks. "الانتظار لمعرفة." He said with a playful wink, he pushes his reading glasses back up. Yves offered you to sit on his lap while he reads his article. You may or may not have accepted the offer, he is fine either way.

He is prone to touching you. Nothing malicious in nature, Yves would always have an arm around your waist, a hand on your shoulder, locking his large, warm and soft hands with yours, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, running your fingers through your locks if you have any, hooking his pinkie fingers with yours and many more. He knows your limits and backs off accordingly, he noted when is the best time and circumstance to give you physical affection if you're the type to like the surprise.

Otherwise, he would whisper if he could give you a kiss on the cheek, forehead and the lips, or a hug. Asking for permission not too frequently and at the appropriate time. You can feel his love is lingering and undying whenever he holds you close to his chest.

Yves doesn't believe in keeping you all to himself, locking you up in a glided cage and clipping your wings. Because your happiness and health is his main priority in life and he is intelligent enough to understand that you need others to fill in roles that he may not be able to fill. Yes, you're allowed to have friends. Yes, you should visit your family, he will come with. Yes, the ones that you love aside from him are welcome into his home. Within limits.

He is, in most aspects of his life: polite, but distant to your friends and family. Yves has a separate database for all of them them somewhere in his shelves for security reasons- to keep them in check and nip any threat at the bud, but they're plainly not as vast as yours. You better hope none of them annoy him, he has access to their private messages, call logs and emails. To his disgust, a lot of them has their own infidelities to hide.

If you have decent parents who were there for most of your life, you would be astonished to see Yves speaking to them so warmly. As if he cares about their existence. His eyes pupils will be dilated as he takes in as much information as possible. It's unnerving, even you had the vibe that this relationship between him and your parents is that of researchers and lab rats.

Yves recognizes that your parents or guardians are a treasure trove of information revolving around you. Now, he understands that their memories of you may not be the most reliable, but the data is still as precious. The knowledge that your friends have of you is useless, as Yves already possesses a more accurate and objective version of it. But information from the people who raised you or taught you (I.e., teachers), he may not have them in his logs yet.

What did you like as a child? What were you like as a child? Any strange fixations you had that could better explain some of your behaviors and preferences now? Any verbal tics? If so, when did it occur? What were your "bad behaviors" and were they a reaction to unpleasant stimuli? What did you tell them about your schooling life? How much did you tell them about your life? What were the values passed down from their generation to yours? When you were a toddler, did they notice what made you cry the most? Who made you cry the most? What media did you consume, cartoons? Live action? Specifically, which ones? How did you punish bad behavior, any lasting effect on your innate reflexes? Any repetitive habits? Where did you look when spoken to, straight into the eyes, away from the eyes, downcast, or past the speaker entirely? Did you prefer your nails long or cut? Did you fit in? Did you enjoy playing 'house' with the other children? Or did you prefer to play alone? The list is not exhaustive.

The barrage of questions was carefully worded and strategically sprinkled into the conversation. His social intellect is unmatched, he could easily obtain the necessary voice recordings in three meetings without your parents feeling overwhelmed or perturbed. With his unbelievable charm, your parents instantly fell in love with him too, thinking that he's the best fit for an attentive, loving, and dependable partner.

It doesn't matter if your parents were conservatives who may be offended by how he presents himself with modest makeup as an androgynous man. No one can deny that he looks stunning in every angle. He will win them over without compromising on his identity too much. Knowledge is power and Yves is the most powerful one out there.

You might or might not find it strange that he defies the common trope of hating his in-laws. Yves gets along with your parents well, maybe a bit too well. There is an 'off' aura to each interaction; he also makes a beeline to his office when he gets back home, claiming that he was contacted for work.

Obviously, he was transcribing what was recorded and organizing them, to improve his predictive algorithm.

One thing that you may be worried about, would he secretly judge you for liking this one thing, for doing a particular activity your own special way, and disliking something he likes? No. Yves is humble, who is he to pass judgment? He is lucid enough to know that he's not at all normal. Nothing about you irks him, data is data. You may have dated before him. Maybe during with him. But he remains neutral, it just means some hypotheses are either proven or disproven. Does that mean he will not get jealous? No, he can turn into a green-eyed monster of envy. However, he has full control over all aspects of his life, even his feelings. It may not be easy, but he is fully capable.

He does consider cheating as a major betrayal and disrespect, as he ensures that the both of you had the talk, discussing what is considered acceptable and what isn't. But he never let his emotions take him over. Yves remains cold and calculating as ever. Depending on your personality, he could either confront you and come to a compromise- and update your records, or he could simply eradicate the nuisance- and update your records. Yves is a strong believer that your actions were bad, but it does not mean that you are a bad person, And you could grow from it. He words his thoughts very carefully here, guaranteeing that he doesn't label your entire being as evil. Your actions are separate from your inherent value.

Everything he does is according to your nature and what works most effectively. His goal is never to punish you for wrongdoing, it's always to love you unconditionally while advocating for himself.

Even if he has tears rolling down his cheeks upon setting sights on the surveillance camera footage that confirms your adultery.

He would be badly hurt, the pain searing through every unit of life in his body. However, Yves would still love you the same and care for you to the best of his abilities. He just needs you to understand that it is not acceptable.

If it takes brutally dismembering your lover in front of you to teach you that lesson, so be it. Let the filth smear his expensive clothes. Let the blood paint his lips even redder. Let his tears wash the smear of viscera away from his face.

Your screams will be data to him. Your hyperventilation, heart rate, and blood pressure shall be the baseline wherein you're experiencing an extremely traumatic event. It will improve his prediction.

When that's all done and over with, he will assess the situation. Have you learned anything? Do you feel regret or remorse? Will you do it again? Will you break his faith once more by outing his crimes to the public?

Once Yves is satisfied with the outcome, he will give you a tight, comforting hug. Thanking you for enduring that and appreciating your genuine apologies. This is only if he is absolutely sure he achieved what he wanted.

But thankfully, that is unlikely to happen. As you wouldn't cheat, correct? You know better. You know very well that isn't a good idea to cheat on your personal mind reader.

As long as you're kind, in line, and faithful, you will have a wonderful, fulfilling life with Yves. All the ugly, unsightly parts of him will remain hidden in the shadows. He will conceal his eyes, giving you that sense of normalcy in day-to-day life while monitoring your every step and breath. Like a magic trick, the magic lies in not knowing how the trick works.

But unlike knowing the ruses of a magic trick, you will be horrified to learn about Yves's clandestine machinations.

Don't ruin a good thing for yourself.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #tw gore #tw blood #tw yandere #tw infantilization #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #tw reader cheating #oc yves

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spdrwdw · 4 months

Note

I saw your request open and I was wondering if you could do a Lego date with Miguel❤️ lol just imagining him being so focused on the Lego flower sets he's making for his girl and he looks so adorable omfg🤭🫶

Anyways I love your AI Bots and fics I'm obsessed 😭🫶

Aww, thank you so much!! 😊 I do appreciate it! This one came out as a drabble but, I do hope you enjoy it!

Art by momosfroggies

Warnings: None. Just pure fluff. No use of y/n

Summary: You and Miguel go out on a date and decide to make Lego sets together.

word count: 755

Masterlist

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You and Miguel walked hand-in-hand as you entered the Lego store. The two of you were on a much needed date night after months of endless work and Miguel being busy at HQ. He needed to spoil his girl.

“Pick out anything you want, muñeca. Don’t worry about the price,” he assured you, letting go of your hand so you could browse. Of course, Miguel could afford practically anything you requested, but that didn’t mean to always go with the most expensive item. You tried to go somewhere in the middle. If you grab the cheapest thing he would lightly scold you and tell you to pick something better. If you picked a more expensive item, you’d feel guilty.

“Okay,” you smiled as you went along, looking at the sets that grabbed your attention. From Disney to Marvel and Star Wars and to Harry Potter, the options were endless. You just didn’t know what to pick!

Eventually, you decided on a Disney piece. It was pretty decent price wise, and it was honestly really nice. You knew you’d be working on it for hours.

“Okay! I picked mine out,” you said as you skipped back over to Miguel, showing him what you picked out.

“Cute!” Miguel grinned over at you, noticing the excitement on your face.

Miguel picked out one of the flower sets. The grandest and most expensive one they had.

“What? You’re going to do that one, cariño?” You questioned, raising a brow. You were sure he’d pick out a Star Wars set like the Millennium Falcon. Something really time consuming. Perhaps you could get it for him for his birthday or anniversary?

“Yeah! I think it would be a nice piece to put somewhere,” he shrugged. Taking both of your items, Miguel made his way to the register to pay.

After mingling around for a bit, you both returned home, immediately starting to assemble your new Legos.

You and Miguel both sat on the living room floor, spread out. Every now and then, you’d glance over at Miguel, noticing just how focused he was with his new little project. They way his brows furrowed together, his nose scrunched, and had his tongue poking out just slightly.

Absolutely adorable.

“Miguel?” You then called out softly after a moment, trying to get his attention. Nothing.

You called out his name again. Still no response. He was just too engrossed with his work.

One thing about Miguel was when he started on something, anything, he would not stop until it was completed. Like that one time he renovated the bathroom. Dude did not eat or sleep until everything was finished and ready.

Or when he built the Spiders’ HQ. You were worried to the bone about him during those months when he was away. If you didn’t go to him with food or force him home to get some rest and a shower, he would’ve gone without. The man is simply too dedicated.

Of course, it is pretty beneficial when you two are in bed. He’s got a sex drive that would put an incubus to shame. Would not finish until he is completely spent to the point he ends up passing out on top of you.

“Miggy?” You tried once more, finally earning a ‘hmm’ from him. Scooting closer to him, you rested your head against his shoulder, noticing how quickly he progressed with his bouquet.

“It looks lovely,” you commented, turning your head slightly to press your lips to his shoulder. You could see his lips twitching up into a smile.

“Not as lovely as you, mi alma,” he then said, looking over at you with a twinkle in his eye. He lifted his head up slightly and gave you a kiss to the forehead before pecking you on the lips.

“How’s yours going?” He then asked, turning slightly to see how much you progressed with your Lego set.

“Eh, not as far as you. I may need some help,” you replied meekly, hiding your embarrassment by hiding your face against his shoulder. Miguel simply chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“Okay, let me finish this one and I’ll help you with yours,” he told you, going back to his bouquet.

“Thank you, baby,” you smiled, watching him as he refocused on his work.

Miguel was such a protectionist that it was absolutely adorable at times, yet also a bit concerning. Still, you loved him for it. And you also couldn’t ask for a better date with your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

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#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #atsv #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel spiderman

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sotwk · 7 months

Text

Taken (Eomer x Reader) - Part 2 of 3

Part 1 / Part 3

Love Confession feat. Eomer Eadig

Valentine 2023 Event by @sotwk

Summary: Eomer is determined to convince the woman he loves of his long-hidden devotion, but the obligations of his new crown and her baseborn origins shake her faith in their future together.

Prompt: "It's hard for me to describe what I feel for you… but just know that it's love nonetheless."

Requested by and Dedicated to: @laneynoir You've probably forgotten about making this Valentine ask, but I remember and write down everything you ask of me! <3 Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3.9k

Content: Angsty romance, declarations of love, jealousy, mutual pining, class division, shield-maiden, King Eomer, post-RotK, non-canon pairing

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Excessive angst? Verbal passion? This is clean but it will do a number on your feels.

To Read on AO3: Link

Tumblr Post for Taken, Part 1: Link

Taken

Third Age 3019 May 2

Minas Tirith, Gondor

PART TWO

“My lord, are you certain it is safe for you to go without a proper escort?”

Eomer cast a taut but amused smirk at Haleth, son of Hama, over the horse they had just finished tacking up together. His new squire, one of the youngest fighters to survive the Battle of Hornburg, had been appointed to the post just very recently, and so still had much to learn.

Eomer dismissed the given counsel that a king needed someone with experience in his direct service, not a novice that required training. He had seen with his own eyes how bravely Hama’s orphaned boy had helped to defend the refugees at the Glittering Caves; in Eomer’s eyes, the child had earned the honor several times over.

“Surely you don’t mean to imply that the King of the Horse-lords is incapable of defending himself on a short ride?”

“No, sire. It is just…” Haleth’s eyes darted about nervously and he lowered his voice. “You ride with a woman. If something were to happen, would you not have to defend yourself and her as well?”

At that, Eomer chuckled. “I commend your gallant instincts lad, but I advise you not to make such an insinuation in the presence of a known shield-maiden. They do not take kindly to having their abilities questioned, and will be quick to set you right.” He patted his squire’s shoulder to show that no offense was taken. “Rest assured that the lady is more than capable of holding her own, and of shielding me from harm if need be.”

The boy need not know that Eomer would sooner die than put her in that position. He had kept that a secret from her and the rest of his Éored for years, although perhaps a little too successfully and to his own detriment.

Riding Firefoot into the white-stone square courtyard that connected the galleries of stables, Eomer quickly saw that she was already waiting for him, standing alert beside her own horse. Greywind, a dappled mare that bore no meager resemblance to her equine brother, tossed her head and whickered softly at Firefoot's approach. It was a warmer reception than his master received.

"Good morning, my lord," the shield-maiden acknowledged with a nod as curt as her tone. Royal protocol satisfied, she turned and swung up into the saddle of her own steed.

Her cold shoulder was to be his comeuppance, then. So be it. Her silent rages were nothing Eomer had not seen, borne, and successfully navigated before.

But today, this time, would be different. Everything was sure to be different after that kiss, which, after a sleepless night of pondering and self-debating, he would still swear on Bema was no mistake. Clumsy perhaps, but an action he did not regret leaping into. There was no part of Eomer that did not desire to repeat it, over and over.

First, he must resolve the confusion his recklessness had caused.

"Follow my lead,” he said, and spurred Firefoot on toward the exit gates.

His command came from habits formed over years of riding together, and so did her immediate obedience. Her loyalty had always been faultless; loyalty to Rohan, loyalty to him. Whenever he called and whatever he asked for, she gave, just as she came to meet him now, regardless of what had transpired between them last night.

This new epiphany that her devotion to him might be encouraged not just by duty, but a love to reciprocate his, still felt like too much to hope for.

They rode side by side down the levels of Minas Tirith, and soon were past the city’s great white walls. At the slightest shift of his master’s weight, Firefoot burst into a full charge down the North-way, rejoicing at the freedom to run across open land once more, an impatience that mirrored Eomer’s own. Next to them, Greywind and rider matched their gait to keep up, and they tore their way for several miles northward into Pelennor.

Eomer’s body sang at the rush of the wind over his skin, through his hair and his cloak that streamed over Firefoot’s haunches. Too long had he been cooped up within the city walls, tethered to the duties of his new office. It still felt unseemly for him to carry the title of King while his uncle had yet to be properly laid to rest among his forebears, but he was determined to serve in every manner his people required.

This involved taking guidance from his newly formed council, who seemed to believe that the first order of business was to reaffirm and restrengthen Rohan's alliance with Gondor. In the weeks that followed the great feast at Cormallen, Eomer spent more time with new acquaintances, lords and ladies from the noblest families of Gondor, than with his own men. His Éored, who had been the rock at his side for nearly the whole of the past year, were granted time to rest and convalesce according to their desires, and every one eagerly embraced the offered leave.

That included her, most painfully and noticeably. Each day that passed by filled with council meetings and formal dinners but nearly nothing of her, had dragged Eomer further into despair. When she finally reappeared for the coronation, dressed the way she was…small wonder that he finally lost hold on propriety the moment he touched her.

In seemingly no time at all, they left it all behind. The high ramparts and looming towers of the grand city turned into a white speck on the mountainside. So far out north into the fields and away from the main road, they had separated themselves from the thousands that had flocked to the city to celebrate the coronation, and retreated into the peace of the vast plains that bore some semblance to their home.

Eomer eased Firefoot into a relaxed pace and she followed suit. Afterward they were blanketed in silence but for the clink of tack and thud of hooves on the long grass finally regrown in the end of Pelennor’s strifes.

One sideways glance showed Eomer that she remained resolved to look anywhere but in his direction. No matter. If she refused to look at him, he would gladly stare at her, and take his fill of what he had been deprived of for weeks.

He had forgotten what a vision she made outside of armor, so long had they lived in battle gear. The gown she wore to the coronation ball had distracted him all evening, but it painted her beauty too foreign. The plain clothes of their people suited her best. On her, the wine-red dress underneath her green Rider’s cloak outstripped any fine silk confection. Her hair, usually held back in tight braids or trapped underneath a war helm, flowed in free waves that tumbled to her waist and made his fingers ache with longing.

To see her in this manner reminded him of what Rohirrim sacrifice had achieved: the end to a life of constant peril, and in its place, domestic bliss. Eomer knew he would be wholly content to look upon her this way forever. And by Bema, by all the Valar that might hear, he prayed that she would let him.

Another mile or two passed in the bleak silence before the skies gave him the opening he needed. The faint drizzle that had lazily harried them gradually intensified into a downpour, and the menacing grey clouds above rumbled a fair warning.

Eomer pointed to a copse of beeches in the distance. “That should suffice for us to wait out the worst of it,” he said, and they directed their horses into the thicket.

After releasing Firefoot and Greywind to find cover and graze at their leisure, they took their shelter underneath the tree with the most generous canopy. As Eomer watched her gather the cascade of her soaked hair over one shoulder, she happened to raise her eyes in his direction and catch his gaze. Her face remained impassive, but she did not look away again. She knew she could no longer delay what he had requested her company for.

“May we speak now?”

The tense lines on her brow softened. “My lord,” she said, in a tone that was almost contrite. “I am here to listen to whatever you wish to say.”

“Good,” Eomer said, and needed one more breath to steady himself. “Good...”

"Long has there been great camaraderie between us as comrades in arms, but in time that deepened into…more meaningful affection.” When she did not flinch at that attestation, he carried on. “After last night, it is clear that we must lay bare the extent of our feelings and finally be open with each other."

Her mouth trembled. “My lord--”

“I love you,” Eomer said. “I recognize no plainer truth than that. I am no bard or scholar, and so it is hard for me to describe what I feel for you...as it would be hard for anyone to explain the glory of the sun or the vastness of the skies. But you must know that it is love, nonetheless."

She remained silent at this, and her clenched jaw told him no response was forthcoming. But he had more.

“These past years, Rohan’s protection occupied all of my waking thoughts. There was no time to consider ambitions for myself. And what need did I have for that, when the sole object of my desires rode in my company to every battle? But after all our years together, I suppose I began to take for granted that you would always be close by, even while I drowned in fear that one sword stroke could separate us forever."

He edged a step closer to her, driven by the mere suggestion of such unspeakable loss.

“When you grew distant after Theodred's passing, I awoke to my folly. I wished to blame your withdrawal from me on your grief, but my jealous mind whispered that my long buried suspicions were confirmed, that you had always desired his devotion over mine. I wrestled with the torment from it, until last night, when you gave me reason to hope again.”

“But..but I did not…y-you had never…” She cut off her own stammering and squared herself determinedly before continuing. “I never found sufficient cause to believe you could care for me so, my lord.”

“The fault is mine for not being forthright with you from the start. I will do whatever I must to remedy that now.” Suddenly they were face to face on the same side of the tree, for she had not thought to dart away from his advances this time. “I would shout it from the very spire of their great Tower if it will end your doubts.”

He reached for her, and the edge of his hand found her chin. Contrary to his bold declaration he repeated, barely above a whisper: “I love you.”

“No,” she murmured back. “Please. You must not say such things.”

“Why not, when it is the truth?”

“Because it is a truth you cannot act on.”

Eomer’s hand dropped to his side as he barked a humorless laugh. “Granted I have not held the role for very long, but that seems a peculiar thing to tell a King.”

“You are the King now, and that binds you to do things according to your duty, not according to your desire.” She lowered her head. “That is the truth that matters, my lord. Love cannot always prevail over everything.”

The familiar frustration marked with dread clawed at Eomer again. “My love for you will prevail over this,” he vowed. “Moreso because it is love returned.”

Only the sound of splattering rainfall followed, and the realization that she was starting to turn away.

“You… you do love me.”

“I do not.”

The ensuing crack of thunder paled against the shock her reply struck in Eomer. She slipped away from his side once more while he fumbled through his recollections of the previous night.

Drunk as he had been on the taste of her kisses, he could not have misunderstood her impassioned outburst. You are all I ever see, even when I do not wish to! He had dissected that precious confession over and over in his head and basked in sweeter hope that he had ever dared to feel about anything.

“I will not accept that. I do not believe it!”

In a handful of strides he overtook her as she fled to the edge of the grove, where the trees stood further apart and exposed them to the deluge.

“What is causing you to deny me? Deny yourself, deny us?!” She attempted to step around him, but Eomer blocked her progress relentlessly. “Is it that misguided belief of yours that I am, in your words, ‘taken’?”

Finally she succumbed and stood in place, cold and drenched and as stock-still as a soldier holding the line. But Eomer found the answer clear on her grimace.

"Do you mistake me for some bull that has been put on the market for the highest bidder? Or believe me so feeble that I have no control over my choice of wife?!"

She stiffened at his rising rebuke and shook her head. “Not just a wife, my lord. A Queen. You must choose the right woman to offer to Rohan as our long-awaited Queen.”

“Marry me and it is done.”

Immediately her eyes widened and her face blanched, as his bluntness finally plowed through her shields. “Oh Eomer,” she breathed, and the return of his name on her lips nearly rendered him as dazed as she was.

He moved to embrace her, but she clutched him by the forearms, guarding her space. He felt her fingers tremble as they dug into the fabric of his tunic sleeves. He thought he might have heard a sob, but in the rain it was impossible to discern the source of the drops slipping down her cheeks.

“I know you are wiser than that,” she told him. “You know Rohan’s political realities, regardless of your distaste for them. Your rise to your uncle’s throne has separated us by a chasm that cannot be bridged.” She sensed his intention to interrupt and spoke even louder. “I am an orphaned stray, Eomer. Theodred’s favor may have rescued me from a life of insignificance, but I am still baseborn by anyone's standards. Yet however lowly I am, I can hold my head up with pride, because I have always known my place.”

“As do I.” Eomer slid his hand up the curve of her neck. “Your place is with me.”

“Yes it is.” Her smile was joyless as she gripped his wrist to keep his obvious desires at bay. “I belong at your side, on the open fields, with a sword in my hand, ready to give my life for you at a moment's notice. You gifted me with purpose, and riding in your company has brought me such honor. Please do not ask me to play a role where I will only fail and return to an object of derision.”

Eomer frowned. “I have only ever loved you. No one else is suitable for me to take to wife.”

She lifted those beautiful eyes to stare dead-evenly at him for the first time in months. “Dol Amroth,” she whispered. “The daughter of Prince Imrahil.”

The sadness in her eyes lifted the fog of ignorance that obfuscated him. He recognized that pain as the very same one that had pierced him each time he watched her in Theodred’s company. The way they smiled at each other, their intimate touches, their freely exchanged affection that made his stomach twist with envy. But he had been wrong in his interpretation of that situation, and so was she on this one.

“What of her?” he said brusquely, pushing aside his full realization of what she was implying.

“One does not have to sit at the council table to see the soundness of your match.”

“There is no match!”

“Then there will be and there should be!” she insisted. “Everyone sees it, and if you tell me you do not, then you have no right to accuse me of denying what is true.”

A low growl rumbled off Eomer and suddenly he was the one to swivel away, rubbing his face and rain-matted beard while he weighed his answer.

“I do not deny that overtures have been made by advisors, both mine and King Elessar's," he said finally. "Lothiriel does seem an obvious candidate to put forward as a consort for the King of Rohan. But that appropriateness has nothing to do with me. Had Theodred survived to stand in my place, they would be pushing her to him. Have I been counseled on the benefits of an alliance with Imrahil's house? Oh yes--with the subtlety of a hammer's blow. But I barely paid heed to that, since all that mattered to me was your opinion on the subject."

"My opinion," she echoed. She planted her hands on her hips and studied her muddied boots for a long moment. "I can offer you what I know. You, Eomer King, will be the greatest ruler the Mark has ever seen. Your rule deserves every opportunity it can claim, and this offer of an alliance with Dol Amroth is one you cannot dismiss. I have heard nothing but praise and approval at the prospect, from mouths both common and noble."

"Princess Lothiriel is young, and beautiful, and beloved. Her blood is of the most distinguished and most powerful house in Gondor. She will give you exactly what you need. What Rohan needs."

She suddenly came forward to cradle Eomer's face between her hands, a touch he had only experienced in dreams until then. Except this was more akin to his worst nightmare. His inner wretchedness must have become evident in his furrowed brow and was too pitiful to ignore. "Moreover she will adore you, if she has not fallen already, for no maiden has ever lived whose heart you cannot ensnare.”

“Do not flatter me in one breath only to spurn me in the next,” Eomer muttered. “I did not ask for you to wax poetic about my future with another woman. I want your thoughts about all that matters. Us.”

“Us?”

She tried to withdraw her hands, but Eomer caught them in time, and held them firm against his chest, as if it could make her feel how consumed his heart was by her.

“Once I might have carried hope for us,” she said softly. “Hope that I could one day be enough, because I knew you cared for Rohan above all else and admired my dedication to our people. I thought perhaps in time, that admiration might grow to love, as mine did so quickly after I met you."

“But it did, it--”

Her hands jerked inside his grip, their next attempt at escape futile. “Any hope I had for us died with Theodred,” she said tersely. “When his charge as the King's heir passed on to you. Let it rest with him.”

The roll of receding thunder brought Eomer back to a distinct memory of that dreadful day at Isen. The raw anguish on her face as she looked up at him with Theodred's head on her lap. Her frightened reluctance at releasing the prince for Eomer to take on Firefoot.

It had rained too when Eomer came to bring her the news of his passing not a day later. Ignoring the heavy downpour, she ran out to meet him as he approached her cottage, and broke down before he could get the words out. He had to lead her back inside and wrap her in a blanket before she caught a chill. She clung tightly to him as he held her for a long while, bewildered by her sobs. It was the only time he had ever seen her weep.

Only then did it dawn on Eomer: it was not just the loss of Theodred that she had mourned.

“Run away with me.”

It burst from his lips without a thought.

“Wh-What? No!” She yanked away from him with such force he was left grasping for empty air.

“Come with me, and let us run away together.” He rushed after her as she strode toward their horses. She already knew his mind, but he also knew hers, and there was nothing left for him to employ to sway her to his thinking. Nothing but this brazen proposal.

“Away to where?!” she cried, without bothering to look his way. She came up to Greywind and seized her saddle pommel, but Eomer’s hand closed around hers, stilling her progress.

“Anywhere. Far enough to take you away from all this--” Eomer swung out his free arm in a gesture as wild as the fervor in his eyes. “Away from everything that is confusing you.”

She started shaking her head vigorously and backing away. “Eomer, no. You are mad!”

“Do not tell me that!” Eomer lurched forward in pursuit, yet knew better than to grab her. She could not lose him out here where there was nowhere to hide. But he would lose her if she shut him out again by refusing to listen.

“Do not tell me I am mad when the only madness is you believing we do not deserve a future together!” Each time he blocked her path, she pivoted in another direction, and he immediately swerved to repeat the dance. “Madness is you rejecting a man who yearns for you more than a mortal heart could possibly bear, clinging to the barefaced lie that you do not feel exactly the same.”

At that, she fell still. In the stillness Eomer realized that the rainstorm had finally dissipated, and in studying her face, he noticed the drops that continued to slip from the edges of her closed eyes, gliding to her quivering jaw.

“You know as well as I that we belong together.” He caught one of the tears with the edge of his thumb, smoothing his finger over her soft, flushed skin. “So let us take the road west and… and just keep riding. Let me take you home. Our people here will follow soon enough, and when they arrive we can meet them as man and wife.”

“Eomer,” she sighed, before falling silent, her eyes still shut. He hoped she would take her time finding ease, so she may really consider his offer. But she responded immediately, too quickly, once again. “We cannot just abandon our obligations.”

“You insist we cannot, but we can. You can do whatever you wish. You just need to decide what that is--"

“No! No, no, no…” The word morphed into whimpers on her lips, an effort to drown him out.

“--and that is all I ask. That you shut out thoughts of all else and answer truly, from your heart." Something in Eomer’s throat tightened, as though an invisible hand had seized his neck and threatened to choke him. He swallowed and persisted with all the courage he could muster. "Will you marry me?"

“No.”

“Please.” It tasted bitter on his tongue, for Eomer son of Eomund had never begged for anything in his life, even as it took the last shreds of pride for him not to fall on his knees in his final bid. “I am asking you for the truth. Your truth alone. Do you want me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, bearing the steely determination and battle strength that had won his respect years ago, and in that moment Eomer saw that that inner fire he loved would now crush him.

“No,” she answered. “I do not.”

To be continued in Part 3...

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