#to be clear I think she had every right to be as mad at k*nye as she was he bullied her for year for litteraly no reason | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ccswife · 1 month

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Scoring Love

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pairing๛: kate martin x bballplayer!reader

synopsis๛: playing basketball with your bestfriend has its perks.

warnings๛: angst if u squint? fluff!

requested by @rimunagenius <3

kinda proofread

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listen to this while reading if u want :D

Laborious. thats the only way you could describe todays practice. coach bluder was in a particularly snotty mood, as she was very disappointed in the performance you guys put up game against rutgers yesterday . you lost count of the amount of full court suicides everyone has done so far. all you could think about was the cold shower you were gonna take after this was over. looking over at the clock on the score board, the time reads 8:17am— which means there's roughly thirteen minutes left of practice.

"Y/L/N!" coach bluder suddenly screams from across the court, clearly angry. "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY LOOKING AT THE CLOCK RIGHT NOW? WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT THAT?!" bluders bone-chilling yell eco’s for what seems like eons. everyone turns to look at you, some with an empathetic look and others with annoyance as this definitely meant that the team was gonna run 5 more full court suicides.

“i- im sorry it was absent minded” you cringe on the inside after speaking up, knowing that a) she would just continue to yell about the time b) make you run more without saying anything more than a shake of the head or c) turn it into a lesson of basketball and strategy. it ended up being option c. bluder started to talk, sorry- yell about how everyone was too busy being absent minded on the court during lower competition games, and how every game is important no matter how much you win by and blah blah blah. you kinda tuned it out after she said the phrase “locked in” for the fifth time. it seemed that some of the other girls started to zone out as well, mostly the starters. the bench players didn’t dare to tune her on-going speech out, in fear of potentially being picked on extra since they dont play as much. which, kudos to them! they took it very seriously. that doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t care, but you knew she wouldn’t consider taking you off the starting line-up unless you did something so unfathomably stupid. you meant too much. you, were the tape. and the tape needed glue.

practice finished at exactly 9:00am, bluder keeping you guys in the gym an extra thirty minutes. this actually wasn’t that bad, considering one time she was SO angry that she held you guys two extra hours. everyone hit the showers and got home as fast as they could, not wanting to stick around any longer then they already had. you ended up being one of the last to shower, though. you felt kind of guilty for practice, so you let some underclassman and bench players go in before you. that being said, it wasn’t just you who felt guilty. your best friend did too. kate martin, the one and only #20 let some girls go in-front of her too and ended up being the only one with you. but this was pretty usual— being together i mean. you two were peas in a pod, birds of a feather, partners in crime! it had been that way since forever.

sounds of running water and the opening/closing of bottles filled the echoey bathroom as you and kate showered (not together, reader. get ur mind out of the gutter). even though the silence was given due to the situation, you were content. sometimes the two of you didn’t need words to communicate, and just the silence did what you needed. kate cleared her throat,

“y/n? you’re there still right?” her voice soft and seemingly- worried? you’ve heard this tone before, right before she told you she failed a test you helped her study for. it was her ‘please dont be mad at me’ voice. “ yea im here still, whats up k? the last time you sounded like that is when you told me you failed the anatomy test.” you continued to suds up your hair, waiting for kate to reply.

“well soooo i have to ask you something,” she sounded completely different now, like she was about to get a new puppy. it was honestly quite adorable— but that sentence stopped you right in your tracks. ‘ask me something??’ multiple scenarios reeled through your mind before you could answer, and kate (growing impatient) spoke up again. “helllooooo? aw dont tell me you already got out” quickly you replied with enthusiasm, to cover up your worry for what was about to come out of her mouth. “ nono! what d’ya have to ask me? my ring size? because it’s a 6. but i dont think bluder would like me playing with a rock on my finger, just saying” kate snorted from her shower. you guys have joked about getting married for years now, and you even made a pact so that if you both aren’t married by thirty, you’ll marry eachother. after snickering to yourself, you shut off the shower and wrapped yourself up into a towel. kate continued to shower and took a beat before finally popping the question (marry me?). “i have this event i have to go to right? its a reunion type of thing with me and my teammates from highschool,”

“my teammates and i” you interjected. she hates when you correct her grammar.

“ yea yea whatever, so basically we all have an option of bringing a plus one and all of them are bringing their girlfriends and some boyfriends.” again you cut her off. “k are you asking me to be your pretend girlfriend?” you were genuinely freaking out, and thank the lord above you got out and got dressed before her because boy if she saw the look on your face….sheesh. kate shut the shower off and continued frantically. “no! not at all! i just dont wanna be the only person without a plus one, and who better to bring than my googly bear?” she laughed at her own joke and stepped out in fresh clothes, brushing her hair while walking towards you. you giggle at the nickname and blow a kiss at her. she catches it, and places in on her cheek. “ of course, my baby boo! what time is this event?” she shows a toothy smile, the one she always does around you and grabs your hand. she starts rubbing the palm of your hand and answers “ 7:00pm, my queen. i’ll pick you up at 6?” your lip curls as you slap her hand away. “we live together, you doofus” kate makes a surprised face and jumps up. “ no way?! seriously!? omg thats so fun! lets go home!!!”. you share a laugh before picking all your stuff up to go home to your shared apartment.

the rest of the day goes normally, running errands, eating, studying together and picking out clothes for this reunion thing. the clock strikes 5, and you start to get ready. kate said its semi-formal, so you pick out a gray babydoll dress, with wedges that weren’t too tall. they made you taller, obviously, but not too tall were you were above kates height. she likes that you’re shorter than her, says that it boost her ego. anyways, you curl your hair and put on a natural layer of makeup— natural enough where it wasn’t too heavy but not were you couldn’t tell you were wearing anything. spraying some perfume, and taking a handbag from your closet, you check the clock and head out to the living room. kate is sitting on the couch on her phone, in a black blazer and pants, with a white crop underneath it. shes manspreading and good god does she look good. before you walked all the way in, you stood there and gawked for a second. breathing a little too loud, kate looks up and notices you standing there. now its her turn to gawk, because ohhhh the things she could say to you right now. it almost brought her down to one knee.

she gets up and makes her way over to you. “y/n,” she places a hand on your waist, pulling you just a little closer. the two of you lock eyes and she smirks. “you look so beautiful, im serious” her smile only widens as you blush. “ ohh stopppp” you lean your head against her shoulder, grabbing her bicep and giggle, slightly lifting your leg up. kate steps back and admires you some more while you look around. she admires how the wedges you wear perfectly accentuate the muscles in your legs from years of basketball and hard work, how your makeup perfectly compliments all of your features, and how the curls in your hair frame your face so gorgeously. she seriously could kiss you right now, hell— she had to stop herself from smothering you when she grabbed your waist. checking the time again, you realize its six, and you usher kate out to the car so you can beat traffic. when you arrive, you see some of kates old teammates and their partners standing at the front, waiting for everyone to arrive. you all make your greetings, and kate introduces you to everyone.

upon going in, you find that one of the girls made a reservation and you were immediately sat down. kate lets you slide in first, and slides in next to you, making sure your leg is touching hers. conversation continues, all talking about how their college experience was and how jobs are, etc. etc. eventually appetizers were ordered and one of the girls, anna, asks all of the couples how they are. when anna gets to you two, she says “ and you two? are you a couple?” she had the sweetest smile on her face as she asked. before you could answer, kate blurts out “yes! we are”

you immediately kick her leg under the table, keeping a smile on your face. anna continued around the table and crinkle your nose at kate. in a low whisper, you say in her ear “ i thought i wasn’t going to be your pretend girlfriend, martin” she side eyes you but is unable to answer as another girl asks her a question about basketball. quickly, you stand up and excuse yourself to the restroom. shortly after you go in, a knock is heard on the door. its kate, of course.

“y/n please open it, i need to talk to you,” you stand there for a second before she speaks through the door again. “you’re not seriously angry right? i didn’t mean to say that i swear, it just came out.” you let out a loud sigh before unlocking the door, letting her in and locking it again— just incase. kate looks at you and starts to explain. “ i dont know why i said that and im soooo sorry. i guess i felt pressured to have a girlfriend so i just said it was you. i know i told you you wouldn’t be my pretend girlfriend and i meant that, but this was not supposed to happen” you stare back at her, thinking of what to say. were you angry? sure, a little. but your real problem was that she wasn’t your actual girlfriend, and that she acted like one and hell! even called you her girlfriend but shes too pussy to actually ask you to be official! i mean seriously. you guys constantly joke about dating and getting married, and you guys act so coupley, how has she not gotten the hint? finally , you decide to speak up. “are you that oblivious kate? do you really not know why im actually mad?” she stares at you with a “idk” look amd shrugs her shoulders, sticking her tongue into the side of her mouth as she thinks. “ im mad because— because! you act like my girlfriend and we even make jokes about dating and shit, and you still dont see how i feel about you! i love you kate!! and not platonically like we’ve been saying it for all these years!” tears start to stream down your face, this conversation being long awaited by you. “i just, cant understand why you wont make it official! unless i’ve completely read you wrong, which im sure i didn’t because i know you like the back of my hand, i think the feelings are requited!” now the tears are really coming down. you lean against the sink and put your face in your hands, trying to hide and wipe the tears off your wet cheeks. kate stands still before lifting your head up. now you see shes crying, too. “of course i love you more than platonically, y/n. i’ve never loved someone so much, and if i could marry you right now i would. i just didn’t know if you loved me back. you know how i get in my head. and i couldn’t go to you to help me because then i’d have to tell you everything.” now shes cupping your cheek in her hand, and the two of you are staring into each other’s glistening eyes. again, she puts her hand on your waist and smiles. “ y/n , please please please accept my apology…” she takes a pregnant pause before continuing, your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “ and…. will you, officially, be mine?” you laugh, and more tears come out. grasping her arms, you whisper-cry “yes, yes of course kate” she pulls you in closer and kisses you, hard and passionately. nothings ever felt so good before. it may seem cliche, but sparks flew in that tiny restaurant bathroom.

kate pulls away and kisses you on the forehead. “ im gonna go tell them we have to take a rain-check, the you’re not feeling well, alright love?” shes never looked so beautiful than when shes calling you love and actually means it.

“of course, my googly bear” you smile sweetly at her, and she pulls you in for one more kiss before going out to tell the other girls that you’re leaving. you slide against the wall a little bit, and touch your lips.

gosh, you really scored at love, didn’t you?

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A/N q(❂‿❂)p : AHHHHH!!!!!! I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE HEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEE! rimunagenius i hope you like this i tried my best with the request you gave! i know its not rlly that basketbally lmao 😔myb. im actually lowkey proud of myself guys 😌👊. let me know what you guys think! also send more requests for other people (and kate too but other people as well lollll). thats it. googbye hamsters in my phone <3. TOODLES

#Spotify #iowa wbb #wbb #kate martin #wlw #kate martin x reader #x reader #i love kate martin #kate martin in a crop top #kate martin is so sexy omfg #lesbooooo

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liyawritesss · 11 months

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ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴜ

Characters: Hope Mikaelson x Black!Stem!Reader

From: Legacies

Type: Drabble

Synopsis: Hope’s determined on not letting anyone else into her fragmented world. Yet, when things get overwhelming, she finds that you are the only person to soothe her.

Warnings: mild cursing, spoiler warning for legacies season 3-4, mentions of character death

A/N: my friend has been slowly but surely getting me ba k knto the TVD universe, and upon doing so I've rediscovered my crush on my favorite lil redhead Hope 🥺🥺 be nice to this i havent watched legacies in a HOT minute. Song Inspiration: “WAIT FOR U” by Future, ft. Drake & Tems, “Unthinkable” by Alicia Keys, “Flaws N’ All” by Sonta

Tags: @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @niyahwrites

Three fifty-seven is what reads in bold red letters on the digital clock that sits on Hope’s night stand. They burn against the back of her eyelids, yet do not promote any kind of sleep. They only prove as a reminder as to why she had not been graced with slumber.

There’s a picture that rests next to the clock. A candid photo taken by MG on one of their days into town to enjoy themselves as regular teenagers. Her eyes traced over every feature of herself in the picture; mouth wide with laughter and eyes shaped into crescents at the joke Caleb had made that she, for the life of her, could never remember. A boy sat next to her, head full of black curls and skin milky and freckled with perfectly imperfect blemishes that once made her heart swoon.

She never gathered the courage to take the picture out of its frame. She never had the courage to let go of one of the few good memories she had of that time. When things were simpler - as simple as they could get in the life she led. When she could look at that boy and tell herself that she made the right choice in trusting him with her heart.

Imagine, having to kill the one person you wanted so desperately to love.

No, the redhead’s own voice echoed through her mind, which was both empty and becoming increasingly overwhelmed at the same time, I am not doing this tonight.

Hope slips from underneath her covers, slipping from underneath the weighted blankets that had failed to help in her mission for sleep, slipping from the warmth they provided. Her long sleeved shirt did nothing to shield her from the cool air that contrasted the warmth of her blankets, the still breeze of the room nipping at her bare legs. Only shorts adorned her bottom half, cut off mid-thigh and leaving her pale skin rippled with goosebumps in the process.

Perhaps she thought the cold would provide some sort of shock to her brain that would make her realize how tired her body was, how it begged to be allowed rest, but it proved all for naught. Now Hope was exhausted and cold, with no way of remedying the situation.

Well, there was one remedy.

Hope glanced at her phone that rested on the nightstand. Her eyes lingered on the device for a long time, her mind battling for reason. It’s four in the morning, she reasons, there’s no way she’s gonna pick up.

Yet, she remembers your bouts of insomnia and knows that you find yourself waking much earlier than you intend to for class anyway, and there’s a small part of her that reasons that it wouldn’t hurt to try.

So Hope hesitantly grabs her phone from the mahogany surface of her nightstand, unlocks the device with her fingerprint, and finds herself scrolling a bit too eagerly to find your contact information.

What would the people around her think if they saw her now, she wondered, frantically calling up the girl who she made it very clear with that there would be no possibility of a relationship in any near future? Would they think her mad? Would they call her delusional? Both were traits that certainly ran in her family, and she would not be surprised if a part of her had still remained that way after only recently returning back to her original self.

She finds your contact information, but her thumb all but hovers over the call icon that rests under your name. Perhaps she shouldn’t be a bother to you, Hope thinks. She’ll think I’m crazy, she thinks, and yet, perhaps it is that particular thought that drives her to press the icon anyway. Because if Hope was crazy for wanting to even hear your voice to calm her aching soul, then perhaps such a title that was placed upon the likes of her father wasn’t so bad.

One ring; the pit inside of her stomach grows in intensity. It seems like the wait between rings is even more agonizing than the actual wait for an answer.

Two rings; Hope is beginning to regret listening to the part of her that has a soft spot for you. Why did she have to remember your sleep schedule? Why did she have to get her hopes up?

Three rings: you won’t answer. You’re asleep, and if she hasn’t already interrupted your slumber, she would surely have to come up with some creative excuse to use tomorrow when the two of you met in class-

A monotone click sounds. Silence, for a few seconds, though to her they seem like hours.

Then, your voice sounds.

“What the fuck, Hope,” you groan through the cellular device, and Hope’s aforementioned worry of awakening you is confirmed by the rustling of sheets and a following groan. She knows she should feel guilty, but the satisfying tingle that runs across her skin from hearing your voice takes away from any remorse she surely would have felt, “it’s…four in the fucking morning-”

“-I know,” Hope interjects, “I just…couldn’t sleep.”

There’s a pause; it’s intense, and Hope finds herself wondering what you’re thinking. Could you be silently cursing her out on the other end? She surely wouldn’t blame you if you were.

There’s more rustling that follows the pause, which causes worry to grow in her stomach, before she hears your voice again, “you want me to come down?”

“......could you?” She bites her lip, tugging at the skin on the pink area, and she doesn’t understand why she should be fearing rejection from you, as if you’d ever give her the pleasure of feeling such an agonizing sting to the heart.

“...yeah,” you finally answer, “yeah, just gimme a minute.”

There’s a blessing that comes with you staying a floor above Hope. It’s fairly easy to slip down the different dorm floors, she’s figured out, In the time between hanging up and waiting for you to come, Hope finds herself stuck in a state of overwhelming thoughts. They’re loud and varying in range, but all of them revolve around you.

Hope remembers when she rejected your advances a month prior. The expression on your face had been emblazoned into her mind, forever carved into memory how she had crushed your world. And yet, you’d been nothing but kind to the tribrid, still considering Hope and her feelings in every engagement the two of you had. You acted as if the rejection never took place; she wondered if this was your own coping mechanism for dealing with heartbreak. It certainly would be more healthier than any method Hope called herself using.

How could you still be so kind to her? How could you still be so willing to love her when she had expressed no possibility of reciprocation? Could you tell that Hope never meant as such? Did you still have hope in her?

How could one have hope in a desire openly denied? The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if such a question should be asked to you, or to herself.

A knock sounded on her door, bringing Hope from her state of entrancement. “Door’s open,” She mutters out loud enough to be heard, which prompts the soft click that sounds with the twist of the knob to her door. The creaking reveals you, slipping into her room, and almost immediately, your presence makes everything better.

There’s very little exchange of words from here on. It’s as if this is a practiced routine, one that had been engaged in for a while with the way you expertly slip into Hope’s bed, under Hope’s covers, and pull her into you. You place her head above your heart so that the melodic thumping of the muscle gives her mind something else to focus on. The way you operate with care in regards to her being has her heart aching, though she can’t decide if its from yearning for you or antipathy of the concept of loving someone.

She could contemplate on it another time, though, because the combination of your heartbeat and the low humming you’ve taken to doing has her body finally succumbing to her inclination of sleep. The last thing she remembers is you muttering words she’d never heard before - perhaps words to a poem or lyrics to a song you fancied.

I will wait for you, rings in her mind long after she’s succumbed to your gentle caress of her hair, and even in sleep, Hope wonders if that is a challenge you’re truly up to take.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#black reader #black tumblr #the vampire diaries #tvdu #legacies #legacies x reader #legacies x black!reader #hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson legacies #legacies hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #hope mikaelson x black!reader #hope x reader #hope x black!reader

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roses-for-rosalyn · 1 year

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Movie Lovers

Hello lovie dovies I have been gone for mad long because of college stuff, but also because I'm working on a longer fic 🤭. I wanted to keep y'all fed though so here's an Ellie blurb. Count how many times I wrote movies challenge! (Also there's 20 people following me that's crazy ya'll are amazing)

Minors DNI pls 🔞

word count: 1.9 k

proofread to the best of my ability

content warnings: a wee bit of friends to lovers, dirty talk, fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), pet names, lots of foreplay, teasing, cuddling, reader who overthinks, and as always no use of y/n

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Watching movies is the best pass time. It was your favorite thing to do because it was one of the few things that got your brain to slow down. You could get completely absorbed in another world for just a little while. It's even better with friends because you can talk about it afterward or even during. You didn't have to stress about anything outside of what was playing in front of you.

Your favorite person to watch movies with was your best friend Ellie. Ellie loved film just as much as you. You could talk about movies for hours with her if you wanted to. It was something you bonded over and the reason you became friends. You really liked Ellie you had known her for a while now. You might like her a little too much.

You liked the way every time she touched you it felt electric. She could give you butterflies just by talking. One time when you both were watching something together Ellie started to slowly move closer to you. You were sitting up with your legs in front of you propped up on an ottoman, and Ellie moved so her head was on your shoulder and your legs were intertwined. She just stayed there. For the rest of the movie. You couldn't remember what you were watching that night if your life depended on it. All you could focus on it how Ellies arm was strung behind your back and how warm she felt against you. You could feel yourself grow embarrassingly wet at the slight contact with her and you had to kick her out early. You made up some excuse about how you had to get up early.

This was the first movie night you'd had since that interaction. You were nervous about not being able to control yourself in front of Ellie. It wasn't fair to her, she was your friend, it wasn't her problem that you were attracted to her. You felt guilty and if she ever found out she might think that was the only reason you were nice to her.

You hear a knock at the door that snaps you out of your thoughts. You walk to the door to greet Ellie, praying you can keep it together. You open the door and there she is, standing there in her usual T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. You both agreed a while ago to just wear pajamas for movie night. Why did she have to look so good in pajamas?

You manage to blurt out a "hi!"

"Hey." she replies, smiling a little at your clear excitement.

"I've got the movie all ready to go." you say as you turn to let Ellie in.

"Very exciting. What did you decide for tonight?" she asks while walking past you, taking off her shoes and making a beeline to the couch. You close the door and follow her.

"Kick-ass." you say. You had both already seen it, but it was one of your favorites. No thinking required, plus it was kind of funny. You sit down on the opposite end of the couch from Ellie.

"Ah good choice. I could use a brainless type movie right about now." She immediately moves so your thighs are touching, ignoring your effort to put space between you two.

"Actually, do you mind if we lay down to watch this? I'm so exhausted I can barely see straight." Ellie suggests. That would mean either you sit on the floor or she would literally have to spoon you. Oh god.

"Ok but then where would I sit?" you ask. You have no idea what answer you're hoping for.

"Just lay down in front of me. We can cuddle up, there's plenty of room." There was indeed not plenty of room. Plenty of room would mean that every part of you wouldn't be touching Ellie. Plenty of room would not mean that Ellie's arm would be draped around you.

"Alright." you reply with a small laugh, ignoring every thought in your head right now. You stand up to allow Ellie to lay on her side, putting her head on a throw pillow resting on the arm of the couch. You grab the remote and press play before laying down in front of her. Ellie drapes her arm around you and places her hand comfortably on your stomach. Eventually she starts gently scratching you stomach moving her hand in circles. She would move her hand slowly up just below your breasts and back down right below your belly button. Just above and below where you really wanted them. She was teasing you and it almost felt intentional. The way her hand would sometimes go too high and graze your under-boob or too low and barely touch the hem of your shorts. Your breathing unintentionally starts to get heavier and Ellie notices.

"Something wrong?" She whispers.

"No, no I'm-" She touches the hem of your shorts again and you sharply inhale. "I'm fine."

"Ok, whatever you say." She replies, and you can almost hear the smugness in her voice. You're starting to think she's doing this on purpose.

A few more minutes go by and it's agony. You can't focus on anything except for the feeling of Ellies nails softly scratching your stomach. She wasn't even touching you directly and she was driving you insane. You're not sure how much more you can take.

Just when your about to get up to go to the bathroom to try and escape her touch, Ellie breaks the silence.

"I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?" You have no idea where this is going, but at least her hand has stilled for the moment.

"I like you."

"Yeah well I like you too, that's why I invite you over." You let out a nervous laugh. Hoping to deflect to conversation from going where you think it's going. Ellie props herself up on her elbow so she's laying about you, lightly grabs your jaw and turns your head to face her.

"No, I like you, like, a lot." She says, and you can tell by the way she's looking at you exactly what she means. This has to be a dream.

"I like you too, like a lot." Ellie looks like she wants to devour you. Instead she lays back down, keeping her head slightly above yours.

"I want to try something, if you want me to stop just tell me." You nod eagerly, hoping it has something to do with getting rid of the ache that's been growing between your legs for an hour now.

"Words pretty girl." Oh god that nickname.

"Yes, yes." you say breathlessly.

"Ok, and you have to promise to keep paying attention to the movie. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes." You say, a little confused, but Ellie could ask you to eat dirt right now and you would do it happily.

Her hand travels underneath your t-shirt, snaking it's way up to your boobs. She starts massaging the skin and lightly pinches at your nipple causing you to let out a small gasp. She moves to the other breast and does the same. She takes her hand out from under your shirt to prop herself up on her elbow. She grabs the hem of your shirt and starts pulling it up slowly causing you to be exposed to the chilly air in your apartment. She moves her hand down to the hem of your shorts and places her fingers underneath the elastic, moving them back and fourth a few times before slowly moving the waistband down. She moves her hand down under your shorts and cups your aching cunt and you gasp.

"You've been waiting for this huh?" You're a little embarrassed she can feel you leaking through your underwear, but you're too wound up to care. "I barely did anything and you're this wound up? Poor thing." She says with mock sympathy. "I promise I'll make it up to you." She whispers before moving her hand up under your underwear and onto your bare pussy. She takes her middle finger and drags it up your slit, and you immediately let out a quiet moan when she reaches your clit. Your eyes start to close from how amazing you feel when Ellie grabs your jaw and turns it towards her.

"Uh, uh," she tuts "watch the movie for me princess." You groan a little, but obey her request, since she's rewarding you so well.

Ellie starts drawing lazy circles around your clit. She does this until your bucking your hips towards her silently begging her to do something, anything more.

"What's wrong pretty girl? What do you need?" She asks smugly.

"More," yeah breathe out "Please."

Ellie lets out a small laugh "Since you asked so nicely."

She starts moving her finger in fast tight circles and you can't help but let out a moan at the new sensation.

"God I've barely touched you and you're already a mess. You're doing so well for me princess." The praise almost sends you over the edge, but then she slows down her movements. Her finger starts to move down to your entrance, slowly circling it before moving in deeper. She curls her finger upwards and you let out moan. She starts moving her finger in and out before adding a second causing you to cry out "Oh god Ellie."

"I know baby, just relax, I got you." She starts moving her fingers faster hitting that heavenly spot over and over, just when you're sure this is the most pleasure you've ever felt in your life Ellie surprises you. She sits up further and lays you down flat. She removes her fingers and you let out a whine. She kneels between your legs and moves your shorts and underwear to the side. Ellie lays on her stomach and grabs your legs so your knees are bent. Ellie's mouth is inches from your cunt, your thighs are framing her face and you can feel her breath on your clit. The image itself almost does you in. Ellie licks a stripe up your cunt and you let out a loud moan. She starts circling her tongue around you clit just as she inserts one finger into your entrance. It slide in with no resistance and then she adds another. She curls her fingers upwards once again and continues sucking and lapping at your clit. You can't help but moan every time she inserts her fingers. Your loud reaction only seemed to encourage her. She started fucking you faster and harder with her fingers. You could feel the pleasure building up inside of you, fast.

"Ellie I'm gonna-" Just when you were about to finish your sentence a blinding pleasure takes over your body causing you to buck you hips upward. You hands start clawing at the couch cushions begging for something to grab as Ellie fucks you through it. The waves of pleasure were unlike anything you'd felt before. It felt so good it almost hurt.

You slowly come down from your high and Ellie slows down her fingers and pulls them out of you. You can't move, you can't even think. You've never been this blissed out in your life. It was amazing.

Ellie makes her way up to meet your eyes and kisses you. She kisses you along your jaw, she kisses your nose, your eyebrows. "I think," She says in between kisses "We found something to do together besides watch movies."

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

This ended up being way longer than I intended, but what can I say I can't do smut without a backstory. I hope ya'll enjoyed it and let me know if there's anything specific you want to see me write! After that go to sleep I know for a fact it is very late.

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us ellie #tlou #tlou 2 ellie #tlou smut #smut #cuddling and touching

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coochiequeens · 8 months

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Personally, I don't want to live in a world where little boys playing with dolls and little girls who don't like wearing pink are subjected to lifelong medical intervention because lunatics think these kids are in the wrong body. If that's the right side of history, then history can go f**k itself." - Graham Linehan

Stretched out on a hospital trolley after a surgeon had removed my cancer-riddled testicle, waiting for a doctor to give me the all-clear to go home, I lazily opened Twitter.

This was five years ago and, at this point, I had not quite nailed my colours to the gender-critical mast. I had defended women being smeared with the slur 'Terf' (for 'trans-exclusionary radical feminist') and was being monitored by trans activists as a result. This made me nervous, though I wasn't quite sure why.

I'd had an inkling of what I was up against when my wife Helen and I played a small part in repealing Ireland's draconian abortion laws. Working with Amnesty International, we appeared in a video in which Helen spoke of terminating a pregnancy because the foetus she was carrying had an abnormality which would have resulted in death moments after birth.

We tried to attend every protest and, at one event, I remember some strange person with a bullhorn bellowing out this nonsense: 'We want the state to pay for abortions!' [general cheering] '...and surgeries for trans people' [puzzled mumbling].

I felt uneasy. Sure, let's talk about trans rights, but first things first. We hadn't yet won the fight on abortion.

In retrospect, this was the first sign I had of the sleight of hand that would allow a sinister movement to attach itself to progressive causes and wrap itself in their stolen banners.

Then, when Ireland voted to overturn the abortion ban, Amnesty Ireland tweeted that this was a victory for 'pregnant people'. I was enraged.

My wife wasn't a 'pregnant person'. She was a woman, and a mother.

But these were only the first ripples of a gathering tsunami of madness. Online, people had started to go dangerously insane. It was such a slow process that I didn't notice it at first, but now, as I lay in hospital, I was collecting my thoughts on the subject.

I knew my positions were thought-through and sound, and I was sure that once people saw I was arguing in good faith, they'd see the problems with gender ideology and we could have a sensible, grown-up conversation about it.

I also told myself that, as co-writer of well-loved television sitcoms Father Ted and The IT Crowd, I had an audience out there who would listen to me. So I sent a few tweets carefully outlining my argument.

Meanwhile, I was in intense pain from the wound under my bandage and, when I was finally told I could go home, I couldn't stand up. A bed was found for me and I lay there, enjoying a bit of peace until the morphine wore off.

The visitors had gone and all was quiet. I decided to have a look at Twitter (now X).

My careful explanation of my position had certainly had an impact.

A trans activist and journalist called Parker Molloy, who identifies as a woman and is enraged if anyone disagrees, had sent me a number of increasingly frenzied direct messages.

After the third or fourth time telling Molloy I was in hospital, I ended the conversation. Meanwhile, another tweeter hopped into my replies to say, 'I wish the cancer had won'.

My ordeal had begun. Cast adrift, I was about to lose everything — my career, my marriage, my reputation.

A little bit after my brush with cancer, I brushed with something almost worse. A biological male, now going by the name Stephanie Hayden, was determined to wreck the life of anyone who flouted trans dogma.

A woman was arrested at home in front of her two young children and put in a prison cell for seven hours after she referred to Hayden on Twitter as a man.

When I made a public accusation about Hayden on X, Hayden didn't challenge it.

Instead, I was accused of breaking confidentiality by publicising Hayden's former male identities.

Hayden reported me to the police. The Guardian, whose editors seemed to have given up any pretence of being even-handed on this issue, published an article headlined 'Graham Linehan given police warning after complaint by transgender activist'.

It claimed I had been given a 'verbal harassment warning' by police acting on Hayden's complaint. This was untrue. I'd been phoned by a policeman who seemed confused when I told him that I'd blocked Hayden on Twitter months ago, so could hardly be accused of harassment.

The policeman then said something like 'stay away from her, awright?' and rang off.

For a national newspaper to headline this as a 'harassment warning' — a formal document that needs to be delivered in writing — was disgraceful, but typical of how many journalists liked to frame things that involved feminists and their allies.

After seven months of wrangling, the paper eventually removed the word 'harassment', which was too little, too late.

By then, the 'police warning' had morphed on social media into 'police caution' — which is issued where a crime has been committed and requires an admission of guilt, neither of which had happened. The false claim that I received a police caution for transphobia is constantly repeated to friends and colleagues to justify my cancellation. It was even presented to my publisher as a reason not to publish this book from which you are reading an extract. I found it grimly funny that the police and media were acting as reputation managers for a character like Hayden, but my wife Helen was terrified at being targeted in this way.

Hayden and Adrian Harrop, a Liverpool-based GP who was temporarily suspended from practising medicine as punishment for his aggression towards women on Twitter, trolled a Catholic journalist called Caroline Farrow, live-tweeting a visit to her home in a way that seemed designed to frighten and intimidate her.

She was about to travel to the U.S., but her visa was withdrawn. Harrop tweeted that he'd just visited the U.S. embassy in London: 'Consular staff very efficient at dealing with my important diplomatic business,' he wrote, with a wink emoji.

In a tweet, I called Harrop 'Doctor Do-Much-Harm'. The next morning, the police turned up at my door. I told them I wouldn't be changing my online behaviour one iota, and that Harrop bullied women online.

The policeman nodded, said something about free speech, and left. However, that visit wore heavily on my wife.

But the likes of Hayden and Harrop could not have had such success without accomplices in the police and the Press. It was surreal how swiftly they gained such power over society.

As for my career as a successful television scriptwriter, that proved to be over before the stitches from my cancer operation had healed.

Around this time, I received a letter from Sonia Friedman, one of the biggest theatre producers in London's West End, about me writing a new companion piece for the late Peter Shaffer's classic one-act farce Black Comedy.

I was apparently 'top of our dream list' to pen it.

Black Comedy is possibly the most ingenious farce ever written. I'd seen it years before with David Tennant in the lead and it left me giddy and envious. Now, going from lowly sitcom writer to being considered worthy of pairing with Shaffer had me floating.

Not for long, though. Only a few days later, Shaffer's estate decided on the late playwright's behalf that they 'didn't want to get involved' by 'taking one side or the other'.

More jobs began to fall away. A tour to Australia to teach comedy was cancelled because the company claimed it 'wouldn't be able to afford the security'. I discovered later this was a standard excuse given to those of us declared unclean by the new sacred class.

I'm also the person who worked with comedians Steve Martin and Martin Short for the shortest period of time. Five minutes, I think it was. A producer invited me to develop a comedy-drama TV series in which both would star. I had a flat-out offer and then, within minutes, an email from the same producer rescinding it, I suspect after a Twitter user in his office told him I was a bigot.

Even what I thought would be my pension was taken away from me. There were plans to make a musical of Father Ted, written and directed by me, which I was certain would be a huge hit, perhaps even make my fortune if I could get it right.

I hadn't reckoned how resolute the forces against me actually were, and how quiet my colleagues would be in the face of their onslaught. Sonia Friedman, the producer, told me I was 'on the wrong side of history' and advised me to 'stop talking'.

I suddenly found myself in a raging argument with this powerful woman who held my musical in her hands. But hearing one of these copy-and-pasted, thought-terminating clichés from the mouth of a colleague was more than I could bear.

The meeting ended with each of us trying not to catch the other's eye in case it kicked off again.

I thought at least that Jimmy Mulville, the head of Hat Trick Productions, was on my side.

As the original producer of Father Ted, the company had a big stake in this new venture. But now the Hat Trick people began to go the other way.

I had another meeting around the supposed problem of my defending women and girls, in which, as always, no one could locate the flaw in my analysis as I explained over and over again: 'Children are being hurt. Women are losing their sports, their language, their privacy.'

Finally, I referred to the violent, terroristic nature of trans rights activism. Casually, off-handedly, Jimmy said: 'Well, there's bad behaviour on both sides.'

'Both sides' is a poisonous smear. No one on my side of the argument insists that people should be shunned by polite society. No one on our side wears T-shirts with slogans such as 'Kill all Terfs' and 'Die Terf Scum'.

I was told by one acquaintance: 'Some of the things you've done have been questionable.' 'Give me an example,' I replied. Long pause. 'All right, well maybe not.'

The final act was a meeting in the Hat Trick offices in which Jimmy told me I was to remove my name from Father Ted The Musical or he would not make the show — my show, which I had been tending, rewriting and refining for the best part of half a decade.

Once again, I asked what I was being accused of.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, as if it was self- evident. Desperately, I tried to explain what was happening to women's rights, and to the young girls mutilating themselves because of — 'I DON'T CARE!' Jimmy shouted. I left.

Later, I heard from my agent that in return for declaring me an unperson, Hat Trick was suggesting an up-front payment of £200,000 as an advance on my royalties. Initially, I agreed to go along with it, because I needed the money. But then I changed my mind.

I saw an interview with the mother of one of the women competitors who found themselves up against the trans swimmer Lia Thomas.

Lia was still physically intact and all the girls worked out how many towels to take into the locker room to cover themselves up completely as they changed.

'I asked my daughter what she would do if Lia was changing in there,' said the mother. 'And she said resignedly, 'I'm not sure I'd have a choice.' I still can't believe I had to tell my adult-age daughter that you always have a choice about whether you undress in front of a man.'

What messages have these girls been receiving?

My heart was ripped apart. I closed the door for ever on making any kind of deal with Hat Trick. I was prepared to betray myself for £200,000, but I couldn't abandon my daughter.

BEFORE the gender hoopla, I only knew people in the media. Now I had been so effectively cancelled that virtually no one in the media would return my calls. But I began to count as friends social workers, police officers, solicitors, barristers, doctors, nurses and academics who sided with me or shared my experience.

One of the few people I still know in the creative arts is the choreographer Rosie Kay.

At a party at her home in Birmingham for her company of young dancers — some of whom went by 'preferred' pronouns — the conversation turned to her plan for an adaptation of Virginia Woolf's gender-bending Orlando.

The discussion turned heated as she explained that she strongly believed in the reality of sex because she and her son had both almost died while she was in labour.

During that ordeal, her womanhood was literally a matter of life and death for her.

Her husband would never know that experience, and that difference between them meant something.

To the little sparrows of the Church of Gender, this was all high heresy, and could not be tolerated. The dancers harangued Rosie to such an extent that she hid in her own bathroom, then they formally complained about her to the company chiefs.

'They cancelled Orlando and then were making efforts to re-educate me, to stop me from centring women's rights in my future work,' Rosie told me. 'I had to resign from the company I founded.'

Then there's the children's author Rachel Rooney, who wrote a picture book called My Body Is Me. Its message was that children should be happy with their body.

But trans rights activists dislike any mention of being happy with your body as it undermines their message that being trans is a thrilling and transformative lifestyle choice.

Tweets called the book terrorist propaganda and likened Rachel to a white supremacist.

The author's 'trade union', the Society of Authors, declined to offer support. So devastating was the experience that Rachel stopped writing books for children and has now taken on a part-time care job.

But what did Rachel do to deserve cancellation? She wrote a beautiful, kind, responsible book for children, and she got the same treatment I received: they tried to destroy her life. Trans activists mostly target women for disagreeing with them, but I'm not the only man to have suffered. Some 30 years after we'd first worked together, I crossed paths once more with the comic actor James Dreyfus (Constable Kevin in The Thin Blue Line).

I persuaded him to sign a letter asking Stonewall, the former lesbian and gay rights charity which has altered its remit and done more than any other institution in the UK to promote extreme gender ideology, to reconsider its stance.

James agreed without hesitation. The letter argued that Stonewall was 'seeking to prevent public debate of these issues by branding as transphobic anyone who questions [its] current trans policies'. It asked the charity to 'commit to fostering an atmosphere of respectful debate'.

Stonewall refused. Even asking the question was painted as a moral failing. Five years later, James is still being hounded by trans rights activists and he has had difficulty finding work.

In 2021, the company Big Finish released Masterful, a celebration of 50 years of Doctor Who's arch-enemy, The Master, who James had played on its audio productions.

The credits featured every living actor who had taken the iconic role… except James. When the history of these years is written, it's not only the extremist activists who will be recalled with revulsion, but also the spineless corporate figures who never made an attempt to resist them. Their inaction contributed to the ruin of James's livelihood.

A brilliant comic actor, a gay man, was abandoned by the very people who should have had his back, because the celebrity class is more interested in looking like they're doing the right thing than actually doing it.

Meanwhile, a chasm was opening up between me and my wife as she watched me lose jobs and opportunities.

Helen was looking for normality, and I was perpetually dismayed and angry. She asked me to cease operations, which she was perfectly within her rights to do to protect our family.

But I couldn't do it. I knew what everyone who's in this fight knows — the Gender Stasi never forgive.

I could never be confident of a having a job again until the entire gender ideology movement, which has caused so much misery, was burnt to ashes.

Even if I had been prepared to recant or keep my mouth shut, it wouldn't do any good because my heresy was out there and would never be forgiven.

I could never be confident of a having a job again until the entire gender ideology movement, which has caused so much misery, was burnt to ashes.

Even if I had been prepared to recant or keep my mouth shut, it wouldn't do any good because my heresy was out there and would never be forgiven.

I was fighting for women and children, sure, but also for my reputation and my ability to make a living.

With my marriage now over, I left the family home and moved into a modest flat. It had a nursing home for old people to one side and an overgrown, neglected graveyard behind it — which is a little too symbolic of my situation for comfort.

Adapted from Tough Crowd by Graham Linehan (Eye Books, £19.99) to be published October 12. © Graham Linehan 2023. To order a copy for £17.99 (offer valid to 15/10/2023; UK P&P free on orders over £25) go to mailshop.co.uk/books or call 020 3176 2937.

#Graham Linehan #TRAs attaching themselves to other causes #TRAs wanting free stuff #Only women can get pregnant #Father Ted #The IT Crowd #how many identities did Hayden have before transitioning?#The Guardian and poor journalism #A TRA got a women’s visa withdrawn and we are supposed to believe the man in a dress is oppressed?#Sonia Friedman is a TRA handmade #Jimmy Mulville is a coward #The Society of Authors abandoned Rachel Rooney #James Dreyfus may have portrayed a villian but he has more integrity than the producers of Big Finish

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darsynia · 1 year

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This afternoon is a TRIP. Just hit a follower milestone 💚 ty for following!! 💚 right after getting back home from DRIVING AROUND FOR THE SECOND DAY IN A ROW LOOKING FOR MY CHILDREN.

Rant about the school and my kids lying to me under the cut.

At the beginning of the school year Youngest's teacher and I held multiple conversations about dismissal, and during none of them was I told a family member had to make eye contact with the teacher (2nd grade) to dismiss Youngest. This only became an issue a few months ago when Middle Kiddo was sick and didn't walk home with Youngest, Oldest forgot to pick her up after being reminded, and so Youngest just... played on the school grounds instead of coming home for funsies.

Then I was threatened by the school about following the handbook (there's nothing in the handbook about dismissal), told I would need to have a WRITTEN PERMISSION SLIP for my older daughters to walk Youngest home (also not actual policy they made it up because they were mad), and finally everything was worked out because the Vice Principal was embarrassed that I knew what I was talking about and called her out on the gaslighting. So we agreed that one of the two sisters had to pick up Youngest every day. They worked out a schedule.

Yesterday, I found out that Middle Kiddo has been running away and leaving Youngest to walk home alone for weeks now, and just slowing down when she gets close to home so they walk in the door at the same time. This after some random old guy (we live near a thriving main street) gave Youngest twenty dollars and wouldn't take it back. So you know, already some danger there.

So I said we'd have to have me come in the car every M W F because Tuesdays and Thursdays the Oldest walks Youngest home. Except Oldest was sick today, so we agreed that Middle Kiddo would do it. Oldest felt better, walked up to say bye to friends, and when she got there, she said Middle Kiddo was looking for Youngest. The teacher said 'oh, Youngest told me her mom was picking her up so I let her leave.'

Guys.

The school THREATENED ME and said I had to have WRITTEN PERMISSION for even the OTHER SIBLINGS to pick this kid up. But the teacher just let her go? (I should add, on the first day of her kindergarten, all 3 kids were set to wait for us to walk home with them, and the teacher just let Youngest leave with her siblings against policy because they looked happy to see each other. The three of them proceeded to get lost and it took us 90 minutes to find them. Which, HILARIOUSLY. HI LAR I OUS LY is why there's stricter policies on letting kids leave with siblings now. It's because of that. Which they just did. Again. To the same kid.

I CANNOT.

Anyway, Youngest just walked her ass home without looking for me or her sisters. And my husband just said 'I don't think you should try to get her teacher in trouble again.'

I never tried to get the teacher in trouble! The VP asked me how I was under the impression that second graders could leave of their own free will and I said that, you know, I'd stood there for 2 school years picking her up at Kindergarten and First Grade and NEVER SAW SECOND GRADERS EVER WAITING. Also I read the fucking handbook. Which doesn't even have K-1 supposed to be escorted but whatever. Apparently the VP went to talk to the teacher and the teacher was like 'whoops yeah I was supposed to tell her' but ME NOT KNOWING THAT IS NOT GETTING HER IN TROUBLE.

I'm just.

I have parking anxiety. It's my biggest stupid fear. I hate it. I used to leave for the school an HOUR EARLY so I didn't have to struggle to find parking. I REJOICED when she hit 2nd grade so I didn't have to park and walk up and pick her up in person. I was CLEAR about that to her teacher (I actually just... incidentally mentioned it to her teacher. Who didn't tell me 'actually I need you to come this year too' even though we had multiple convos where she could bring it up). So for this to STILL BE A THING in MARCH.

I am going to have to go every day and park and pick her up. Cause I can't trust the school, I can't trust the kids, and I just... don't want Mr. 'here kid here's $20' guy to turn out to be malicious.

BONUS STORY:

When Oldest was in kindergarten, we had bussing because actually the street that kiddos have to cross is huge and dangerous. So dangerous that they required us to bus even though we're close. Now that they don't have funding for busses after covid, they just have them walk across it anyway with no crossing guard but WHATEVER. The bus picked our kids up last and dropped them off first.

But! It had a little dogleg kind of route it took and sometimes the bus driver was lazy. This meant that instead of dropping my kid off at the first bus stop, she just got to sit there in terror and watch as the bus drove farther and farther away from her house, OR tell the bus driver he forgot OR just get off and make her way home instead of being in trouble for still being on the bus when it skipped her stop.

Oldest usually chose option #3. So there I am, I've got a 2 year old and I'm 9 months pregnant, and it's pouring down rain, and there's no Oldest at the bus stop. She's 5. I call the school. They call the bus driver. Bus driver is confused, says he'll just swing by when he's done with Oldest.

We wait 25 minutes in the rain.

Bus driver drives up. Shrugs. No kids left.

We start driving around looking, and finally decide well heck maybe she figured out how to get home--and yep SHE DID.

So yeah this school and dismissal... it ain't great. They did that to her about 5 more times that year. She thought it was fun.

#i just #am tired.#i want to write but how do you write when everyone is gaslighting you oh my gosh #like everything is fine and everyone is home and safe but i feel so terrible #flkdjsafldksafksdlafa #darsy's cinematic life

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poppy-in-the-woods · 1 year

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Et tu, Polyphia? (Or How these particular tropes seem unescapable)

So recently I got into Polyphia because someone mentioned Tim Henson's YouTube channel in a video; they said he was the best guitarist alive and that he often makes videos playing his guitar, so I had to check it out. You know, to see if they were exaggerating or not. Turns out they weren't.

I don't usually like instrumental heavy metal/progressive rock or whatever it is that they are labeled as (I have honestly no clue); the only instrumental music I used to listening are movie soundtracks or artists that already sound like they belong in a movie soundtrack, like Two Steps From Hell.

It was strange for me to get so into this type of music, but I did and OMG they're good. So I started watching some of their videos and I liked them... until I stumbled on the Euphoria and the Champagne videos.

The Champagne music video seems to play these particular tropes (musicians being adored by women and women dancing suggestively for seemingly no reason) for laughs, like the band is self-aware this is a meme, but the Euphoria one... not so much, and it left me wondering: can we escape these two tropes in rock/metal videos?

If you look at 70s and 80s rock & metal bands, their videos are full of these tropes. Even in the 90s and more recent videos are guilty of such sins (Powerwolf I'm looking at you. I know you're mostly a self-parody, but still, you could tone it down).

As a woman who enjoys rock and metal, it makes me cringe every time I see that played in a video. It looks so sexist and dated... Haven't we evolved past that?

I get that being a rock star is a very popular male power fantasy, but as a friend of mine said recently, either you have such a low self-esteem and not enough confidence in yourself that you wish it would happen, or you have such an ego you honestly believe it would happen. And yes, often very popular musicians have groupies, I am aware of that, but why make your sexual exploits the center of your videos? Again, haven't we evolved past that? I can't take those videos seriously, and for me, it's kind of a red flag when a band does (*cough*Five Finger Death Punch*cough*).

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Polyphia is that kind of band (though they maybe thought the woman dancing was on theme with the title of the song being Euphoria, or maybe their studio thought it was a good idea, I don't know), but it made me think how much we still have to progress in that aspect.

(In contrast, their song ABC which has a female guest artist and very clear sexual tones has a super fun video with almost zero sexualization, and again it's mostly played as a self-aware joke).

Side note: I also checked AO3 for fics out of curiosity, and they were none. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

That was a bit strange to me, having Tim Henson that kind of K-pop idol look to him, and then it clicked: they're not as mainstream as other bands that have tons of teenage girls (and not so teenage) writing smut about them.

I don't know if this links with the trope or not, but fandom spaces (besides how much BuzzFeed and other channels like to do "reading smut" or "reading thirst tweets" videos) are a "fans only" zone. Musicians are never supposed to read how this young woman from Minnesota would like to sleep with them, or the things she would do if they consented. Andy Biersack from Black Veil Brides said it in an interview (I'm paraphrasing here, don't come at me):

"It's not for me, and I can't get mad at it. It's like looking into someone else's window and then getting mad for what they're doing inside their home. Why did you look in the first place?"

That's a private thing and very different from having barely clothed women on your video being presented as objects for your consumption, in my opinion.

Also, maybe we should relax with the "porn without plot" type of fics? Not censoring them, just right now they're a bit meh to me, and some are frankly gross, but maybe it's my personal trauma speaking, I don't know.

Anyway, stream Polyphia and have a good night/evening/day.

#poppy's thoughts #polyphia #powerwolf #this is just my personal thoughts i do not intend to attack anyone #heavy metal #rock music #progressive rock

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lancermylove · 2 years

Text

Mama (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demon Bros x fem!Reader

Warning: Suggestive.

Requested by: @pansexualweeb

Prompt: I actually have a request if that's okay with you I just got this idea where the brothers react to a kid running up to MC and saying "Mama!" I wanna see their reactions ☺️

A/N: If anyone wants to be tagged for OM (or any fandom) let me know.

———————————————

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the child before shifting his gaze to you, “My dear, you never informed me that we had a child together. When did this miracle arrive?”

“W-What? Luci!” You quickly turned your gaze away from your smirking boyfriend, who was enjoying every bit of your reaction. “We haven’t...I mean...no child yet.”

“Yet? So you wish to have a child with me? Then what are we waiting for? Shall we return to my bedroom?”

If Mammon was drinking something, he would take a sip and spew the liquid out.

This kid was making a mistake, right? There was no way you would have a kid and not tell him, right? Mammon was not going to sit around and let someone else’s kid call you mama.

He protectively wrapped one around your shoulders and pulled you closer to his side, “Hey, kid, you got the wrong woman. She ain’t your mama, and the only kid she’s havin’ is mine! Ugh...I didn’t say anythin’.”

Levi’s jaw dropped, and he quickly backed away from you and the child. “EHHH? You have a kid? Since when? Why didn’t you tell me? Does this mean I am the father? Wait, that can’t be possible. This kid is too old, but we are dating...so am I the adoptive father?”

Though you tried to tell him this child was making a mistake, he didn’t listen and continued. “I don’t know how to take care of kids. But, (y/n), I will learn quickly...I might mess up, but don’t get mad at me. I will be a good father!”

Hearing his statement made you blush, and you couldn’t stop yourself from hugging him and telling him how cute he was. Meanwhile, the kid stared cluelessly at the two of you.

Satan uncomfortably cleared his throat and closely observed your reaction. It didn’t seem like you knew the child, but he held his breath and waited for your reaction.

“Do I remind you of your mother? How cute, but I’m not your mom. Want me to help find your mom?”

Satan exhaled quietly but continued to watch you interacting with the child. If the two of you had a kid together, is this what he would get to see everyday? Adorable. Wait, what was he thinking?

You turned around to see Satan with a beet-red face as he tried his best to avoid making eye contact with you.

Asmo dropped all his shopping bags and covered his mouth with his hands. You had such an adorable child and didn’t tell him? He was ready to hug the kid and introduce himself, but much to his dismay, you quickly cleared the misunderstanding.

“Wait, Asmo! It’s not what you think. This is not my child. Maybe I have the features as their mom.”

“Oh...,” he would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. Asmo was ready to spoil the child with gifts, affection, and loads of hugs.

Beel tilted his head, shifting his eyes between you and the child. Did they call you mom? You have a child? Does that mean you already have someone else in your life? Beel’s chest hurt.

“B-Beel? Why do you look sad? Wait, I don’t have any kids.”

“So, you don’t have anyone special in your life?” Just the thought of someone being in your life made the knot in his heart grow tighter.

“I do have someone special in my life, and his name is Beel!” You giggled while giving him a tight hug. The Avatar of Gluttony couldn’t have been happier to hear those words and returned your hug.

The child smiled and ran towards you with arms wide open. While the three of you hugged in the middle of the market, the bystanders couldn’t help but “awww” at the cute scene in front of them.

C-C-Child!? You have a child? Belphie frowned at the thought of you getting close to another man and turned around to walk away, but you grabbed his arm.

“Hey, dear,” you cooed at the kid, deciding to play along with them. “Remember I told you I would introduce you to your father? Well, meet Belphegor, your beloved dad.”

The Avatar of Sloth felt like someone pulled the ground from under his legs. When did the two of you have a kid? Why didn’t you tell him? Hold on, you were joking, weren’t you? He sighed and pinched your cheek, “Don’t joke around with me.”

Belphie quietly watched you talking to the child with a smile. Having a kid with you didn’t seem like a bad idea. Besides, taking a nap while holding onto his tiny hybrid offspring sounded nice.

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radiant-reid · 2 years

Text

A Way Home

Summary: An out of the blue call to Spencer makes him question whether he wants to go on without his ex-wife in his life a/n: basically, i was sad and this was how i avoided thinking about it lmao

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst with a little hopeful ending)

Content Warning: divorce | prison arc | maeve arc | tiny mention of reader’s mom being dead

Word Count: 2.1k

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It was a split-second decision and a terrible one at that. People react differently in times of heartache, and Y/n wasn't sure why she did it, but her phone was unlocked, and she was pressing the button before she could stop it.

Spencer was just as surprised as Y/n was, sitting at his desk on a slightly chilly Thursday afternoon when his phone started buzzing on the dark wood. Glancing around the bullpen, it was clear no one else was paying attention to anything but their paperwork which meant it wasn't about work. It was a No Caller ID name, so that didn't give him a clue either, but it could have been about his mom, so he answered, placing the phone against his ear.

Sitting in her dark apartment, Y/n was shocked that he answered, just as surprised at that as she was at the fact she called. After all the years that had gone by and the hundreds of words she wished she had said, she struggled to get anything out.

Luckily, he spoke first. "Doctor Reid." How he answered the phone every day because that's what the call was: routine.

Spencer's voice was different, but not solely because it was a phone call. It was firmer and more confident, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. She wasn't even sure if she got to feel anything, but at the moment, all she felt was sadness. The new suffering was only intensified by the pain that opening up an old wound brought.

"Spencer." It came out closer to desperate than she wanted it to, and she could hear how pathetic she sounded, but it was so strange to hear his voice after so long, even though she was the one who called. It made her stomach sink to think about what he was doing because, unlike usual, she could identify a piece of what he was doing at that exact moment.

One word- his name, no less, which he heard every day- and all the wind was knocked out of his lungs. The tears had started welling in his eyes, threatening to spill in the middle of the office. Spencer's mind would have been racing to find out why she called if the pain wasn't surging through him.

"Y/n." His voice held nothing. No love, no hatred, actually, no emotion at all. It was the voice Spencer had always used when he loathed someone so much that he was unable to express any feeling. Complete numbness. She wondered where it all went wrong, at what point in their relationship, she gave him the right to hate her.

"S-sorry, I don't, uh, k-know why I called." She stammered out, feeling more and more embarrassed.

Anger.

Spencer switched to anger because he hadn't been mad with her before then, when she left. "Yes, you do. You switched your phone to No Caller ID so that I'd answer." Even if he didn't know the answer, he could still profile her actions. "So you must want something because you never answered my last call." A call he really needed her to take, even if they'd been separate for a year.

"I..." Was she really about to tell him the truth? "I needed someone... to talk to."

"I don't really think that's my problem or responsibility anymore." It wasn't his privilege like it used to be because it was always something he liked to do.

It hurt, stabbing at her heart, but she couldn't deny that she deserved it. "My mom died." She revealed, quietly sobbing. She didn't just need someone to talk to. She needed him to confide in because nothing this bad had ever happened to her, and it was her almost instinctual to call him.

"Boy wonder, we've got a case." Penelope was suddenly standing at the front of his desk, and he was forced to cover up his tears and put on a neutral expression.

With a nod, he went back to the phone. "I'm sorry..." To her, it sounded like he cared about what had happened until he completed the sentence she didn't know was incomplete. "I have to go."

The wound back then had been sharp, a stab that left her bleeding out, but now the knife was blunt. It wasn't numb anymore, just painful all over again. She didn't blame Spencer for not caring, even though he swore he always would. Every promise made between them before had been broken.

While being briefed, Spencer struggled to focus, too preoccupied with Y/n. Not only because of the recent development in her life but because he pushed their relationship so far down that he omitted it and thinking about it, well, he could recite every word they ever said in those three years.

Emily was the one who noticed he couldn't stop rubbing his ring finger on his left hand like how he used to spin the ring absentmindedly when he was thinking. She hadn't seen the broken look in his eyes for years.

Sliding into the single seat across from him, she examined his expression as he tried to pretend he was concentrating on the book he couldn't read.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly enough none of the team could hear it.

Spencer looked up at her, practicing his lie once in his head to make sure it was convincing because Emily could always tell. "Yeah, o-of course."

The single stutter sold him out. "Spencer." She said in a warning tone, softer than if she was actually telling him off.

"Y/n called." He mumbled, still in a state of shock. The type that made it hard to feel anything but numb.

"Oh." Emily's surprise matched Y/n's and his. "You last spoke, what? 8 years ago?"

He knew all the words between them and all the dates. "To the day." It had been 2921 days since they spoke.

"Oh wow, really?" It was rhetorical, but Spencer nodded. Anniversaries mattered, but he only briefly thought about her that specific morning. Although he thought about her every morning when he just first woke up, and there was a moment of peace like she could be sleeping next to him, she never was. "So she doesn't know about..."

Maeve was the word she was missing. "No," Spencer confirmed.

"Or about..."

It was prison that she was asking about that time. "No."

"There's a lot of history between the two of you," Emily recalled, unsure of how to comfort him in a time of emotional strain. "But clearly, a lot has changed."

"Her mom died," Spencer told her as an explanation for the call. He hadn't thought about the event until now, but he always liked her mom, and he had heard the pain in Y/n's voice.

Emily nodded in understanding, unable to find a solution. "That's...a lot."

"I... she's..." Spencer struggled to form a sentence with the words swimming in his head. "I've learned to live without her." He decided, reaffirming it to himself.

Another nod came from Emily. "Do you wish you had to?"

For a year after their divorce, he thought about that question. And there had never been a day when he didn't want to get back together. "She doesn't love me," Spencer said. If he could, if he hadn't cried about it for years, his voice would have cracked, and he would be in tears. "She didn't back then."

Emily had seen something different back then, but she wasn't sure if it was appropriate to comment, although she never had been good at holding her tongue. "She loved you, and you know it. But that doesn't mean you have to be there for her now." Since she'd known him, he'd been too good at sacrificing his needs for everyone else's.

Maybe he wanted to, but he also knew he couldn't ever just be a friend. "I always keep this, did you know?" He took out his wallet, pulling out the little photo of her that he had. It was from their honeymoon when he pretended to lose the camera, only so he could surprise her with it at a later anniversary, but that didn't come. "It was too dangerous when we were... married."

Some days, it was hard to look at, and it made him cry himself to sleep, but some days, he had positive memories, and he felt like the old him.

"It's all I have left." A 2.5" x 3.5" sized photo was the only tangible thing he had to hold on to. The tears were coming then, not loud and violent but small and painful.

"What happened?" Emily asked, having 'died' when Spencer couldn't talk about it. She hated to think he had two people to mourn the loss of.

There was no clear answer to that. "Everyone here gets divorced." It wasn't meant to be a joke, not when it was so true. It was his job or her job or the stress or growing apart, but it wasn't the lack of love that he convinced himself it was.

Emily left him with a piece of advice. "Think about it, but I think you know what you want."

Spencer did. He knew what he wanted. The thing he wanted for more than a decade. It could break his heart, but she had always been worth it.

When they got back from the case, he dumped his bag by the side of his desk and sat down. Once everyone had left, he picked up the phone to call.

"Y/n." She answered, clearly unaware of who it was, the usual joyful tone she had.

"Hey." Spencer greeted her, dumbly smiling at just hearing her voice.

It made her jump in surprise, throwing the phone before picking it up and trying to act calm. "It's late." She mentioned. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing." It wasn't hostile at all. It was playful, which took her by surprise.

"I've never been good at that thing they call sleep." She admitted something he already knew by the chuckle that sounded. She was good at it with him, though, and he held on to the memory of how she felt cuddled next to him.

Touching her felt like a distant memory, but maybe it was close enough he could get back there. "I cut back on coffee," Spencer confessed, leaving out that it was because he was in prison.

"How's that going?" She asked, not as curious as she was amused.

"Oh, terrible, I don't recommend." He answered with a chuckle, swinging back on his chair. It was quiet in the BAU, no one there but him, yet it allowed him to properly hear her.

Y/n rolled over to the other side of her bed, looking at the photo of him from when he turned 25. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it still ignited the same bitter-sweet feeling in her. "Some things never change then."

"And some do." It sounded glum, and Spencer was quick to recover the conversation. "I'd like to hear about it." He confessed, speaking from the heart, which he was wearing on his sleeve. "If you're around... a-and you, uh, you want to. No pressure."

For the first time in 8 years, it felt like there was a way to have some of him back. A speck of hope, and it was all Y/n had wanted since they got a divorce. "Yes." She blurted out. "Please."

"It's not all good." He warned her, grin dropping when he remembered some of the terrible things that had happened.

"Is it ever?" She posed the question. "I want to hear all of it, Spencer."

His heart clenched, but it felt lighter than what had become usual. There was no way he could not be in love with her, and if she knew, maybe there was a chance. It bet the alternative of being alone and still wanting her.

The decision was quick. "Tell me where and when. Today, tomorrow, next week, I'll be wherever whenever." He agreed, a little desperate, but it was what she loved about him.

There were no guarantees, just a whole lot of hope, which was always enough. Maybe, after all the time, pain, and love, the path was clearing, and there was a way home.

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femdomlieeh · 3 years

Text

Pretty (m)

Sub!Seonghwa ✧ Dom!F!Reader

WC—2.7 ✧ k

WARNING—hand job ✧ corruption kink ✧ praise kink ✧ light hair pulling ✧ marking ✧ crush!reader x classmate!seonghwa ✧ mommy kink ✧ prince kink

THEMES—smut ✧ fluff ✧ classmates au ✧ crush au

NOW PLAYING—LOVE. ✧ Kendrick Lamar FEAT. ZACARI

[A/N.] not edited. kinda messy ngl

Collaboration with ItsnotpornIswear

M.LISTS—ateez ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

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Seonghwa.

One of the students who had a GPA way above average.

One of the students who had a personality that was liked by many.

One of the students who had a lot of admirers trailing behind them.

___.

One of the students who had a GPA right around average.

One of the students who had a personality that was misunderstood by many.

One of the students who had a lot of exes trailing behind them.

What did the teacher think when she assigned them to work together in a group?

She must've accidentally replaced her ginger shot with vodka for breakfast.

When the teacher announced the group you could tell that the pair weren't the only shocked ones.

Some people were jealous and others simply confused.

The pair locked eyes as they already knew who the other was.

Seonghwa's face was hard to define, the girl wasn't sure if he was mad or if he was scared.

___ looked unbothered and waved to him, trying to seem friendly in case he had prejudices against her.

But she didn't need to try to change the way he viewed her; he already had a clear vision of who she was.

She was his crush and that was the reason why he started breathing faster and why his face showed his very lean-looking panic.

He waved back, looking uncomfortable as ever.

"Come, over here, pretty boy," she said impatiently.

The blushing boy face palmed inwardly at the fact that he didn't get the signal when she waved to him.

He walked over and tried to get rid of the panic he was feeling by counting his breaths, like he had read somewhere online.

___ pulled out the chair beside her for him to sit down, "H-Hi, I'm Seonghwa."

"I know," she stated matter-of-factly.

The teacher said your name. Of course she knows it, you ducking idiot, he cursed at himself as he looked down at the table in embarrassment.

"I'm leaving in 10 minutes, because I have a dentist appointment, so when do you wanna study?" she asked casually.

"We could do it today- It being the project. Yeah," he mumbled as his heart raced.

"What else would it be?" she chuckled at his stuttering, thinking it was adorable.

He cursed at himself inside once again, assuming she saw him as a freak.

"Are you free tonight?" she tried to dodge the previous question to lighten up the mood a little.

"W-Why at night?" he inhaled a rather fast breath.

Who wouldn't react that way when someone they had fantasized about asked that? Damn. The girl he wanted to fuck him asked him if they could meet at night...

"I'm gonna be busy after school... Am I that scary?"

"No! Of course not. I was just won-dering," he raised his voice so it cracked.

Good job, Seonghwa, he thought.

"Then it's settled! Where do you wanna study though? I doubt the library is open late."

"My place is okay. But we can go to your place if you want t-to."

Please say your place, he thought, since he wanted to know where his crush lived.

"I have small siblings so it can get pretty messy and we might get disturbed every other minute, so I'd prefer to go to your place," she continued, "unless you have small siblings too."

"No. And my p-parents are out of t-town too," he stuttered more when he realized what it could mean.

Damn. His crush would be at his place. Alone. At night.

"Perfect," she looked at her watch, "I'm leaving now, but lemme give you my number first."

She held her hand out and looked at me expectantly.

As he opened his phone he could feel his hands becoming clammy. His crush was going to give him her number!

He handed it to her and made skin-to-skin contact with her in the process.

She must think I did it on purpose-

"Here you go," she smiled at him as she gave him his phone back.

He turned into a tomato.

"Bye. Text me!" she said before she left.

"I-I will," he waved.

He definitely would.

Gosh. She must think that I'm so awkward, he panicked.

Wait-

She would go to his place.

That was the first time they had a conversation, and now they were going to be at his place.

Gosh. Gosh. Gosh-

I need to fix the place.

He got up from his seat and went right to the teacher's desk.

"Pardon, but I was wondering if I can leave class because I feel really sick. And my partner isn't here so I can't really work by myself either," he said in a vulnerable voice and scrunched his brows a little to try to act like he was in pain.

"There's the door," the intoxicated teacher said and pointed towards it.

Great.

Since it was his last lesson for the day he could go home.

With fast steps he walked to the lockers and got all the books he needed for the day, he didn't want to waste a second.

His bag was filled with what felt like a ton of bricks and his shoulders hurt with every move he made.

Then he stopped.

He didn't need them.

He didn't need all those stupid books.

He was going to need one book and that book was the one he needed for the assignment.

Seonghwa wasn't going to spend his day studying, he was going to prepare for the awaiting evening.

And so the books were back in his locker and his bag weighed like a feather and he made his way to his car.

His parents were rich, so he had his own sexy car.

As he was leaving the building he heard a voice behind him: "Are you going?"

Seonghwa turned around and saw a familiar figure.

It was his best friend Hongjoong.

"Um. Yeah."

"Why? Your lesson ends a quarter after mine," Hongjoong asked, suspicious.

"I'm going home, because my partner for my assignment isn't here so I can't work," the tall one explained to the short one.

"Okay, then. Let's go," Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa muttered a quiet yeah and lead the way to his car.

He opened it and slammed the door, leaving the younger slightly confused.

Inside the vehicle the oldest furrowed his brows as he squeezed his hands on the steering wheel and made them pale.

The younger looked at the other worriedly, "What's up? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Seonghwa gave the younger a fast glance before turning his attention back to the road, "___ is coming over tonight."

"Congrats."

"It's for an assignment."

"Oh."

"And she thinks I'm awkward, because I'm so nervous around her," the older complained in a whiny voice, "and the fact that the place is a mess doesn't help."

"Don't worry, bro, I'll help you clean so you can get more time to mentally prepare for your date," Hongjoong assured him with a warm smile.

"It's not a date-"

"Oh, sorry, I meant study date."

___'s pov.

When the GPS said I had arrived to the destination, which was the address Seonghwa had sent, I wasn't shocked to see a big, expensive-looking house.

The house fit pretty boy. He looked and acted like a prince after all.

I knock on the expensive looking door, hoping that it was the right one in case I would have to pay some kind of fee for touching it too harshly if it were someone else's.

After all I don't know how rich neighborhoods work.

The door creaks and a pretty boy appears.

My pretty boy.

"H-Hi," he smiles slightly and motions me in.

The hall is grey and has a few green and blue paintings on the walls to give some color to the monotone place.

"Nice house," I reply and take off my shoes.

"Th-Thank you. Nice," he looks at my face, "ehm, shoes."

"Thank you," I giggle at his awkward state.

"D-Do you want something to drink? I can bring you water or-or soda-?"

"Sure. Water," I sit on his sofa and wonder if it's a sofa or a cloud.

He dashes to what I'm assuming is the kitchen.

I observe the unfamiliar place and see that it's as clean and neat as the outside.

I must've been staring for a while because in a second two glasses of water are on the coffee table as he's sitting on the other end of the sofa waiting for me to speak up.

"So, let's start!"

___'s pov.

"S-Sorry," Seonghwa says after he accidentally touches my arm.

I ignore his apology, since this is the umptenth time he's apologized tonight for the smallest reasons and by now I'm somewhat used to it.

"A-And we could a-add this," he stutters like he's done the whole time I've been here and points to a paragraph in his textbook.

Is he that insecure? He's the perfect student!

I read and smile, "Yes! You're genius."

He returns the smile as his cheeks grow pink.

"Oh, you like praise?" I grin, feeling like the smile is a victory.

The boy gulped and didn't say anything.

I whine.

Why can't he just be more comfortable with me? We've been working for a whole hour now.

I have time to say something since we've come really far in the assignment and it's due to next week.

And so I say what I've been thinking the whole night: "Stop being nervous around me!"

"I'm sorry, Mommy," he says without thinking.

When he realizes what he said he puts his hand in front of his mouth in shock.

All I do is smirk.

That explains a lot.

"I-I-I'm sorry," he apologizes and lowers his head in shame.

I bring his chin up with my index finger and thumb, "No need to apologize, Prince."

He gulps as his face flushes with embarrassment.

"Now, tell me, what did you call me, Prince?" I whisper huskily as I look deeper into his scared eyes.

With closed eyes he whimpers in fear, "M-Mommy."

"Good boy," I praise and see him open his eyes.

His eyes are big and show an emotion he hasn't showed me before.

Thirst.

He's thirsty for praise.

I feel my insides burn.

"Safeword?" I ask him.

"Twilight."

"OK. Mine's horizon."

"OK."

With no hesitation I go for his lips and he immediately responds.

He hums as I lick his lower lip to ask for permission.

With a moan he opens his mouth for me.

"Good boy."

I bring my hand behind his head to push him closer so I can deepen the kisses.

His hair is so damn soft, I tug it.

He keeps his hands for himself like the good boy he is.

I bring my lips away from his and put them on his jaw instead.

"What do you want Mommy to do, Prince?" I say huskily.

"I-I want Mommy to t-touch me," he stutters shyly.

"Say it like a good boy and Mommy might help you."

"Can you pl-please touch me, Mommy?" he pleads with a small voice.

I go lower to his neck and kiss a little harder.

"Mommy, pl-"

I interrupt him by pulling his zipper down.

He gulps again and I kiss his Adam's apple.

"You're so pretty, Prince."

A smile appears and soon is replaced by a gasp as I put my hand down in his underwear.

"So hard for me already? Such a good boy," I praise him when I feel his cock.

"Only for y-you, Mommy."

I smirk and give him a squeeze.

He tries to keep his moan in, but I can tell he wants to moan more.

"Don't be shy now, Prince. Show Mommy how much you like it," I encourage him as I massage his dick a little harder.

A small moan slips past his lips and I smile against his neck.

I pull his pants down, exposing his thighs for me, and make him gulp once again.

"Take them off," I demand him and point to the only piece of clothing left on his lower body.

He locks his eyes with me and watch my every move as he pulls them down, revealing the most desperate and needy part of his body.

I grab his dick, "Good boy."

"Now don't keep your moans for yourself. Mommy wants to hear them," I tell him, looking into his eyes, before going back to his neck.

"Okay, Mo-Mommy," he whimpers at my touch.

I bite gently on his skin and start rubbing him.

He moans freely.

With a smirk I go into the process of creating a hickey.

"Mommy," he whines out.

I spit on his dick to make it easier for me and pump him quicker.

He moans louder at the increase in speed and puts his arms behind himself as he arches his back.

"Such a pretty Prince," I whisper and give a kiss to his neck before sucking it.

"Mommy's pretty Prince," he corrects me confidently and brings my unoccupied hand to his hair.

I tug at it and slowly yank his head back to give more room for me to bless him with more hickeys.

Lewd moans escape his mouth one after one.

"Is my Prince enjoying himself?"

"Y-Yes, Mommy. S-So much," he whimpers, back to stuttering as he trembles.

I tighten my hold on his cock and try to go faster, as I can sense he's close to climax.

By now his neck is adorned with many beautiful marks to show everyone that he's my Prince.

He moans and feels himself get closer to a place he's never been to before.

Damn, is this what sinning feels like? Because then he wants to sin all the time.

I bring his head back and kiss all over his pretty face.

"Pretty," I whisper between every kiss.

His face became redder than before and a smile broke out on his face.

My lips make their way from his cheek to his lips and he happily kisses me back with just as much lust.

For a moment he tries to enter my mouth, but I tighten his dick even harder and make him gasp for air to get the opportunity to get my job back.

"Don't act like I'm not your Mommy," I say as I kiss him.

He whimpers in response and sticks his tongue out in pleasure and creates the perfect ahegao face.

"M-M-Mommy, I'm so close-" he barely lets out.

I give his cheek a last kiss and say the magic sentence he wants to hear: "Cum for me, my Prince."

At my words he lets himself go and gets a taste of a luxury he can't buy.

The moan I earn is long and hoarse.

In a few seconds, when he's more conscious after orgasming, my cum-covered hand is brought in front of his face, "Taste. Taste prettiness."

He looks up into my eyes and does as I said.

Never did he think he would ever eat his cum, since he was always too innocent for that, but he feels like he wants to do everything for you. For your praise.

"Good boy," I smile and plant a kiss to his lips and taste him.

He indeed tastes pretty.

SH's pov.

I proudly step out of my car with my neck covered in highly visible hickeys. The marks are from Mommy. How I feel can be described with one word only.

Pretty.

As I make my way to the building I notice faces around me are pointed in my direction.

Guess they didn't expect this from the good boy of school.

But I don't care as long as I have Mommy, so I walk into school without being bothered.

I try to find a particular face in the crowded hallway and am met by a familiar voice calling me from behind.

"Good morning," Hongjoong greets me and smiles.

"So how was the date?" he asks with a teasing voice and wiggles his eyebrows.

"You know what? You don't even need to answer," he says as he looks at my neck with wide eyes.

"It was unforgettable. She was unforgetta-" I add.

"Speak of the devil," he interrupts me as he looks at something, or rather someone, behind me.

___.

"I must say I really like your new style, Prince," she says as she trails her fingers up the marks on my neck.

"You should wear those pretty hickeys more often."

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

❝ Sippin’ bubbly, feelin’ lovely, livin’ lovely

Just love me ❞

—zacari moses pacaldo i; 2017

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slasherhaven · 3 years

Note

Hello! I adore your blog so much! Just a quick question, are you planning on doing part2 of 'Disruptive', Thomas x reader hc? Maybe reader finds out what happend to Ian and Cecilia (those were the names, right?)

Thomas Hewitt X Reader

Part 1 HERE

Disruptive Part 2:

Luda May had tried to shield you from the fate of your friends but you knew what was happening as soon as you heard Hoyt's gun go off. She held you as you cried, both from the feelings of betrayal and from the violence taking place outside.

She had continued to comfort you during the days following their deaths, shushing you and reassuring you. She had tried to get Thomas to see you, to take her role in comforting you, but he had refused each time. He was sure that you wouldn't ever want to look at him again, never mind be comforted by him. So, he took to avoiding you, assuming Luda May would bring you more comfort than anything else could.

Everything had happened so fast but you had managed to wrap your head around the main points and come to terms with them. Ian and Cecilia were dead, the family that you were now living with had killed them.

It was scary at first but the family never seemed to wish you any harm, Luda May always assured you of that. Even Hoyt refrained from threatening you or scaring you, apparently he hadn't been fond of your friends but had no real problem with you since you had been the polite one. Still, neither he or Monty went out of their way to make you feel particularly welcome.

In the end, you couldn't say you mourned your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend all that much, considering the betrayal they had committed. More than anything, you had been afraid about what your time in the house would mean for you. But...it had never meant you any harm, and you believed they would continue to welcome you in their home.

Luda May had apologised for your loss, apologised for what the family did but assured you that you were safe here. She had also asked you not to blame Tommy.

Some time passed and the family trusted you to move freely around the residence. You were still polite and undeservingly kind to the family, helping with chores and assimilating with the family relatively easily. You were a welcomed addition in everyone's eyes.

Still, Thomas was avoiding you and you had become highly aware of it. Now that everything had calmed down, you could notice the lack of the large man in every room you walked into. At first you thought it was a coincidence, now you were certain he was avoiding you on purpose.

Despite wishing that Thomas wouldn't keep avoiding you, you hadn't had much chance to confront him about it. At least, until today.

The house was pretty quiet and you were in the kitchen, having just finished some chores when you glanced out of the window. From your position at the window, you could see Thomas outside by the collection of cars. Hoyt must have asked him to strip down the newest car, the car you had arrived in.

You smiled to yourself, determined to take the chance to speak with him. Grabbing a chilled glass from the tray, you hurried outside and skipped down the steps.

It reminded you of a graveyard, cars in various states of distress lined up in the field. Some stripped down to their frames, others barely touched but parts rusting away.

"Thomas" you spoke as you approached him, getting his attention since his back was to you. You bit back a small laugh when he jumped and turned to face you, clearly surprised by your presence.

"It's hot, I thought you would like a drink" you offered as you held out the glass of freshly made iced lemonade.

He looked a little suspicious of your offer at first but his face soon softened before he took the glass from you.

He tensed some more when he realised what he had been doing as you approached. He glanced back at the before, looking nervously at you before hanging his head.

Even though he didn't say anything, it was like you could read his mind. He was worried that you would be upset about him stripping your car for parts.

"Don't worry. It was Ian's car, you can do whatever you want with it" you assured him with a small shrug, lazily kicking the flat tyre as if to further your point.

Thomas nodded, relaxing slightly, before drinking from the glass that you had so generously provided him.

You rocked back and forth on your feet for a moment as it fell silence, feeling a little awkward and sensing the tension in the air.

"Have you been avoiding me?" you finally asked, deciding there was no point dancing around the subject.

Thomas just shifted his weight, unsure of how to answer. He could be honest and say 'yes', but he knew that would sound rude, and surely you wanted him to avoid you. Or he could lie and say 'no', but he didn't want to lie to you and he knew you already knew the truth.

"It's alright if you have, I get it" you reassured him, not wanting him to feel guilty for it. "Just stop, okay?...I'm not mad at you and...and I miss you" you confessed, noticing how his eyes widened slightly at your words.

How could you miss him? You had only known him for a day before he started avoiding you. He supposed the only real company you had now was Luda May, so maybe...that was why you 'missed' him. He couldn't wrap his head around you having forgiven him and wanting to have him around.

"I have to get back before Luda May finds me gone but stop avoiding me, okay?" you spoke again when he didn't really respond.

This time, Thomas nodded, making you smile before running back towards the house. Thomas smiled to himself as he watched you run back into the house, hoping that you really had meant it and he wouldn't have to avoid you any more.

Thomas was true to his word and stopped avoiding you. Conversations should have been a little awkward but you found any silences comfortable and you kept the conversation flowing. He didn't talk, you had learnt that for sure now, but he listened intently and always responded in what ways he could.

Now, you spent more time with him that any other Hewitt. Now, he did the opposite of avoiding you. He was always around, seeking you out just for your friendly company.

You were thankful for those developments but a new concern was worming its way into your mind. Even when he wasn't around, you were thinking about him, you couldn't wait until you saw him again. Whenever he was around, you would smile, practically giddy to be around him again.

Could you be developing feelings for Thomas?

From the first day you met him, defending him behind the gas station, you had thought he was sweet. You had also found him attractive, tall with broad shoulders and strong arms. God, you wondered what those arms would feel like wrapped around you.

You could never make out all of his facial features because of his mask but you could see his eyes. Oh, how you adored his eyes. They were expressive and beautiful. You wanted to tell him that whenever you could see him doubting himself.

You wondered if he would ever take his mask off around you, if he would ever let you see his face. You had heard from Luda May that he had some sort of skin condition and that was what he was hiding, but you didn't care. You just wanted to see him...maybe he would even let you k-

"I'm so glad you and Thomas are talking again" Luda May's voice brought you out of your thoughts, reminding you of where you were. You were in the kitchen, helping cook supper, but had completely zoned out with thoughts of Thomas.

"He's a good boy and he likes you, he's just a little shy" she smiled to herself. She obviously loved Thomas and it did make you smile, it was sweet.

You sighed and you collected yourself, practically deflating as you pushed away the thoughts about Thomas. Yes, you could be honest with yourself, you had developed a crush on Thomas but it surely didn't matter. You doubted he returned your feelings, even despite how highly Luda May claimed he thought of you.

"It's alright, he was just worried about everything that happened..." you cleared your throat, hoping she hadn't seen the change in expression on your face. You didn't feel like being questioned about it right now. "Do you want me to come to the gas station with you tomorrow?" you asked, changing the subject. You didn't like the idea of her walking down there on her own.

"No, that's alright, dear. Hoyt is going to drive me up" Luda May assured you and you nodded. "I'll ask Tommy to help you out with some chores tomorrow, I'm sure he won't mind helping" she offered.

"Oh, I'm sure I can handle it" you shook your head, able to handle some clean up on your own.

"Trust me, dear, Tommy will be happy to help" she insisted, giving you a knowing look.

You were sure she knew something you didn't, but you couldn't question her about it because Thomas had walked into the room, making you both look back at him.

"Hey Tommy, we're almost done with supper" you told him with a smile.

"Would you help Y/n clean up after breakfast tomorrow?" Luda May asked and Thomas nodded without hesitation.

"Thank you, Tommy" you smiled at him. You tried to hide it but Luda caught the light blush on your cheeks as you turned back to the task at hand.

The next morning, Thomas kept his promise. Hoyt was taking Luda May to the gas station, Monty was passed out in front of the television, and Thomas had come to help you clean up in the kitchen. Well, he was supposed to be helping but he was basically doing it all, not letting you help when you tried.

He had been working in a comfortable silence for a while, as your mind ran while. You watched him work, watching the muscles of his back moving under his shirt, smiling at him whenever he glanced over his shoulder at you.

Sometimes you thought he might return some of your feelings but then your newfound insecurities would show their ugly faces. You used to be so confident in yourself, able to take rejection with understanding, it wouldn't shake you. But now you doubted yourself, now you couldn't stand the idea of Thomas not thinking you were enough.

You sat on the kitchen table, where Thomas had placed you and silently ordered you to stay making you laugh, and anxiously picked at the wood with your nails.

"Thomas?" you finally spoke, making him look at you. "Do I talk too much?" you asked. Ian had believed you were too much, too chatty at times, too eager, just too much and yet not enough all at the same time.

Thomas instantly shook his head. He honestly liked how much you talked, that you even wanted to talk to him in the first place. Your face would light up as you rambled about something that had happened that day, and it made his chest feel warm. He couldn't help it but smile whenever you talked so happily, even about the most mundane things.

You almost smiled but not quite. He seemed to be being honest, you didn't talk too much. He didn't think like Ian had...but that didn't help much.

"...do you think I'm attractive?" you asked quietly after a short moment of silence. You never thought you were the most attractive person in the world but you had been comfortable in your own skin, at least until you found out your boyfriend had been fucking your best friend for months. There had to be a reason for Ian to betray you like that, you must have done something wrong.

Thomas paused at your question, his eyes widening.

Surely this was a trick question, how was he supposed to answer that? Of course he did! Of course he thought you were attractive, but would you think it was weird if he said that?

Thomas had thought you were attractive from the first moment he saw you. He thought you were the kindest and bravest person he had met since you took that punch for him, and still smiled up at him like he was worth it. Ever since your first encounter with each other, he was smitten with you. And those feelings had only grown as he spent more time with you. He absolutely adored you. God, he wished he could tell you all of that...

You took his silence as a negative response. He didn't answer because he didn't want to hurt you...

"Sorry, you don't have to answer that..." you hung your head, looking down at your lap. You shouldn't have put him in that position, you shouldn't have asked.

Thomas panicked a little, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel bad. He just hadn't wanted to make you uncomfortable. He took a breath, trying to build up his confidence, before walking over to you.

You looked down at where your hand lay on the table when you felt Thomas' much larger one rest over yours. You teared your gaze away and looked up at him. He just nodded once you were finally looking at him again.

"Thanks, Tommy" you smiled. "I think you're attractive too" you confessed.

He pulled his hand away then, looking down at his feet. You were just being kind, saying what you were meant to say, or just straight up making fun of him.

"Hey" you frowned, quickly catching his hands in both of yours. "I mean it" you promised him as he met your gaze again, still looking unsure. "You doubt yourself too much, think too lowly of yourself" he tensed when you released on of his hands, bringing your hand up to his mask. "I don't know exactly why you wear this but I promise, whenever you feel like you can take it off around me, I will still think you're attractive" you promised, tugging on his hand to pull him closer.

Thomas let you pull him closer, swallowing the lump in his throat as he came to stand between your legs, hand still in yours. He had to do something, he had to savour the moment. Could you really be being honest with him?

He lifted his free hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, making you smile softly up at him. He still didn't talk but you knew what he was saying. You too. You shouldn't doubt yourself, you were everything he could ever want, and he did want you.

Since you didn't pull away, Thomas' confidence began to grow. The hand he had hovering around your face gently cupped your cheek and he swore his heart skipped a beat when you nuzzled your face into his large palm.

Thomas wasn't Ian. Thomas clearly cared deeply about you, he wouldn't betray you, he wouldn't hurt you like Ian had.

You placed your hand over the only he held against your cheek, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. Thomas just looked at you in complete awe.

It made him think back to the man you had arrived with, your boyfriend, Ian. How could Ian ever betray you like he did. Thomas had met your friend, Cecilia, and sure she was pretty but nothing when compared to you. And she wasn't even half as kind. Thomas would never hurt you like that, he couldn't even fathom it.

Here you were, tenderly kissing his palm and looking at him...lovingly, if he didn't know any better.

The sound of the front door slamming closed made you both jump, Thomas' hand falling from your face and landing instinctively on you thigh as you both turned towards the door of the kitchen.

"What the fu-" Hoyt began but cut himself off with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Y'know what, I don't wanna know. Just not in the fucking kitchen" he snarled before grabbing a beer from the fridge and leaving the room.

Both you and Thomas blushed at the implications of what Hoyt had thought you'd been doing, Thomas stepping away from you with an almost apologetic look.

"It's alright, Tommy" you smiled as you hopped down from the table. "Let finish up cleaning, okay?" you asked and he just nodded, assuming you were about to just ignore whatever the moment was that you both shared.

You smiled up at him again, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers through his, before guiding him back across the kitchen.

#thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

A Bump in the Road

Summary: You and Spencer had kept your relationship a secret from the team until something changed your plans.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: brief mentions of a case but other than that, just pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: this is the first of my 3 fics for me and @samuel-de-champagne-problems 500 follower co-celebration! the prompts for both of us today were: Accidental Pregnancy, Reader/Spencer looking for excuses to hold the other’s hand, “I need to talk to you…like right now”. To see her fic today and our upcoming prompts: click here!

Masterlist

“Prentiss, Morgan, you go to the neighborhood of the victims. Y/L/N, Reid, go downtown and just look around for anything strange,” Hotch stated, “I need you all to look casual while scoping out the area so try to look like normal citizens and don’t flash your badges.”

Derek raised his shades to put them on but Gideon gently grabbed his arm to stop him, “Less official.”

Emily let out a chuckle, “Let’s go, Morgan.”

“You ready, Spence?” you grabbed the keys.

“Yes, lov- ,” he played it off as a cough, “Yes, Y/L/N.”

“That was a close one,” Spencer said as he adjusted his satchel as you walked out of the police department together.

“You’re the one who keeps almost calling me ‘love’ in the conference room in front of the whole team! And on the jet!” you added with a giggle.

“It’s not my fault!” he insisted, “My brain short-circuits whenever I look at your beautiful face.”

“You’re hard to stay mad at,” you playfully rolled your eyes.

You and Spencer had been dating for about 4 months now. You decided to keep it a secret from the team until your six month anniversary. You didn’t need the teasing at the beginning of your relationship when things were still a bit new and awkward. But now, you both had said ‘I love you’ and you were practically living at his apartment when you weren’t away on cases. It was perfect.

You and Spencer were walking down the sidewalk downtown, looking for anyone who seemed to fit the profile.

“Hmmm we seem too official,” you smiled, grabbing his hand, “I guess we have to act like a happy couple. You know, just for the case.”

“Yep, just for the case,” Spencer squeezed your hand, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“For the case,” he grinned.

You cupped his cheeks and pulled him back in for a much longer kiss on the lips.

“For.” you planted butterfly kisses along his jawline, “The.” another kiss, “Case.”

Spencer opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“Hotch,” he said before swiping accept and putting it on speaker phone, “Hey Hotch. You’ve got me and Y/L/N.”

“Morgan and Prentiss caught the unsub trying to grab another victim off the street. They fit the profile to a tee. We’re bringing them in for questioning but we’ll take shifts. You and Y/L/N can go back to the hotel and get some rest first.”

“Alright, thanks Hotch,” Spencer hung up the phone.

“Oh I think there’s one more thing we have to do when we get back to the hotel room…for the case,” you winked, pulling him back to the SUV with your hands still interlocked.

You were in the bathroom stall of the sixth floor, anxiously bouncing your legs up and down.

The timer on your phone started vibrating, indicating the time was up. You stared at the stick in front of you, waiting to be flipped over.

You flipped it over quickly like ripping off a band-aid. Two lines. The second one was faint but definitely there. You were pregnant. 5 months into a relationship with Spencer.

You rolled the test up in toilet paper before placing it in your purse. You washed your hands and splashed some cold water on your face. You took a deep breath before walking back into the bullpen like you hadn’t just received life-altering news.”

You grabbed a random file from your desk as you passed by and approached Spencer’s desk. He looked up from his paperwork with a soft smile as he saw you coming.

“I need to talk to you…like right now,” you whispered, “About the Johnson case,” you spoke a little louder so no one would question what you two were whispering about.

Spencer began to stand and grab his jacket to follow you but Penelope came charging into the room, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards her bat cave.

“Actually, Penelope, I have to ask Spencer some questions about a case. I’ll come find you in a bit.”

Spencer nodded to back you up.

“Trust me, the news I have is wayyy more important,” Penelope continued to tug at you.

“Penelope, I really need to finish this. Just give me the highlights now,” you resisted her pull.

“I found a pregnancy test box in the bathroom and I didn’t find the stick. I’m no profiler but usually people would only keep the test with them if it’s positive,” she confessed, “Someone on this floor is pregnant!”

Your eyes widened and you mentally slapped yourself on the forehead. How could you forget to throw the box away?

You made eye contact with Spencer, shooting him a sheepish grin as if to say ‘surprise?!’

Penelope started to drag you along again but Spencer grabbed a hold of your other arm.

“Actually, Hotch really needs her to get this done, Garcia. I promise she’ll be over as soon as we finish it.”

Penelope and Spencer were engaged in an intense staring battle with you in the middle.

“Ugh, fine! I’ll just have to gossip with Morgan! Now you don’t get to know all my theories,” Penelope huffed.

“I’m sorry, Penelope. I’ll make it up to you at lunch tomorrow.

As she clicked away with her high heels on, Spencer pulled you into a supply closet.

“You’re pregnant?!” he asked.

“Um, yeah I am. I understand if this isn’t what you want though, it’s not really the timing either of us had in mind,” you spoke softly, rubbing your arm.

Spencer pulled you in for a hug, “I’m happy if you’re happy. I’ll support whatever decision you make. I can schedule you an appointment at the clinic and I’ll be right by your side the whole time. But if you do decide to have this child, have no doubt that I will be there every step of the way with you in raising them.”

“I think I’m going to keep it,” you smiled softly.

“We’re having a baby?” Spencer beamed.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Spence.”

The closet door swung open, revealing a confused Anderson.

“I don’t know why this is so emotional for you, Reid. We’re out of paper clips,” you crossed your arms as Spencer wiped his happy tears away.

Anderson grabbed some extra staples and scurried out of the closet.

“Most women tend to find out they’re pregnant from 4 to 7 weeks and we’ve been together for 15,” Spencer stated.

“Even your sperm is smart. They managed to get past my birth control so quickly,” you laughed.

You and Spencer decided to wait to tell the team until the end of your first trimester. After that, you couldn’t put it off any longer because you were beginning to show slightly if you wore tight shirts. Also, it was killing Spencer to have to pretend that his child was not inside your tummy all day.

You tried to schedule ultrasounds before or after work but sometimes one of you would have to take the day off in advance for ‘a family thing’ while one of you would mysteriously ‘fall ill’ the day of.

Your doctor had just given you the all clear that the baby was perfectly healthy at the end of the first trimester so you were ready to tell the team.

You wore a tight shirt with a jacket over it for the announcement. You let go of Spencer’s hand right before he entered the bullpen.

“See you on the other side,” you winked before sneaking off to the other entrance of the round table room.

You heard Spencer ask if everyone could join him in the conference room for a special announcement.

“What’s all this about, Kid?” Derek asked.

“I have been dating someone for just over 7 months now and she is amazing, beautiful, smart, kind, and I love her so so much. We found out about two months ago that she is pregnant. We actually just got back from the final ultrasound of the first trimester,” Spencer announced.

The team was speechless for about a minute.

“Congratulations,” Hotch finally spoke for everyone.

“WHO IS IT?” Penelope asked.

“She’s actually right out here. I have a feeling you’ll like her,” Spencer smiled.

You stripped off your jacket so your belly bump was on full display as you entered the room.

“Hi guys,” you waved as Spencer wrapped his arms around you from behind and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

The team erupted into gasps and cheers.

“You…and her???” Derek couldn’t seem to process this new information, “How did a group of profilers miss this?”

“Because my boyfriend is a genius,” you grinned up at him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“No, my girlfriend is way smarter. She scheduled all of the ultrasounds and how to get the time off,” Spencer smiled down at you.

“Okay, we’re both geniuses so the baby will be a genius too,” you concluded.

Spencer bent down to give your belly a kiss as the team ‘aww’ed.

taglist (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #cm fanfic #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer x reader #reid x reader #dory and rosie’s excellent adventure

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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

BBQ at the Kent's

Clark invites his friends over for a quiet BBQ at Ma's farm. It just doesn't go quite how he expected.

Masterlist

........................................................................

Clark had invited his closest friends and their underlings to a BBQ at Kent farm. So what if his closest friends, all happened to be from the Justice League. Kent Farm was a perfect location. It was out the way so if power mishaps it was unlikely to be observed by anyone passing by. It was a large space so could hold lots of people. Especially as his friends seemed to have a habit of collecting underlings like Pokémon, in particular Bruce. AND it wasn't Wayne manor which despite what Bruce says isn't always a relaxing place to be.

Ma was catching up with Alfred and Lois which was good, Alfred deserved a medal as well as the chance to relax. The teens and kids were mucking about/chilling in the house, and he could catch up with his colleague slash friends and relax.

What he may have miscalculated though was his little sister returning home to see Ma. She knew about him and his 'side job'. She had also, very early on, figured out his friends ‘side jobs’ too. Working it out was a breeze according to her, they weren’t particularly discrete in the beginning (according to her at least). She had covered for him and saved his bacon more times than he would willingly admit. Hell, she's covered for him to them and covered for them without them knowing. She’d provided so many alibis and removed evidence that they hadn’t thought about. The issue though, with his sister turning up, was more that THEY a) didn't know about her and b) didn't know that she knew and finally c) she could quite easily give them all a run for their money.

___________________________________

Walking into her family home she found a swarm of teens lounging around the living room. They were all chatting and talking over each other that they didn't notice her enter. Raising an eyebrow, she spotted Conner, who was currently wrapped around another boy with dark hair.

"Hey Mini Bale! Nice look you got going. Bet it's driving the old men mad and completely beats the plaid shirts and starched suits. Is Haybale out in the yard?"

Conner jumped, causing the others in the room to stop chatting, and looks to see his sort of aunt smirking at him across the room.

"Hey M, didn't know you were coming too? Yeah Clarks out back. Ummm….. why are you here?"

"This is my home too Mini Bale.” She deadpans him, “I was planning to surprise to see Ma as not visited in person for a while. I don’t need to tell Haybale every time I visit, he isn’t the boss of me.” Conner’s aunt pouted before gaining a glint in her eye, “What I wasn't expecting to see was Haybale having a "small gathering” here and not invite moi! But alas it is what it is."

The glint turning into a smug look with a dangerous edge as she took in the room.

"Auntie M!!!", the call distracted her from the room suddenly as Jon ran in from the kitchen and launched himself into a flying jump to hug with the women standing in the room. "Straw stack!! How are you doing sweetie? Made any new friends?"

While Jon dissolved into conversation with his Auntie, Tim took the opportunity to quickly assess the newly dubbed Em. She was well dressed, the sort you don't often see on farms and would be better placed in the city. Her clothes were expensive, the type he often could see board members wearing when relaxing. Even with Jon holding her attention she seemed to have clocked him studying her and nearly everyone else who was watching her interactions. Leaning into his boyfriend he queried.

"Em? Does she? Is she? Who???"

Conner chuckled at Tim's confusion, as well as the mystified faces of the others there.

"Tim, guys, I'd like to introduce you to Clark's sister, and my sorta aunt and Jon’s definite Auntie, Marinette. M for short. And before you ask Tim, no she isn’t like him. She *does* works with Max Kante in developing high tech material and gadgets since well she grew up with Clark and wanted to help him cope with his powers… She and Max created MiracuTech as a result. It’s her brainchild though really, M doesn’t really need Max."

"Mini Bale stop!! You’re dramatizing it. I need Max just as much as he needs me, our skill set complement each other. We couldn’t make half the stuff MiracuTech does without his input.” Marinette blushed, “Max says hi by the way and to tell you to pop by the office. He wants to test his new “creation” with you. Not that that offer will remain if you keep speaking of him like that. But it does remind me, how are you finding the glasses?"

It was Conner’s turn to smirk at his friends, and they could suddenly see the family resemblance in the pair.

"They're are awesome M. Like the play back function is brilliant. I've recorded so much blackmail."

His friends paused and a shiver went down their spines recalling all the incidents that have happened since Conner got his latest sunglasses.

"Fab feedback. I'll let Max know.” Taking as glance around the room, “I'm gonna take a wild guess as say Battle Barbie, Fishtails, Greedy Gonzales and Moody & Broody are out back with Haybale and Ma, Mini Bale?"

That again caused the room to freeze, being siblings with Clark kinda made sense that she would have known his identity, but for Clark to tell her about other identities was worrying. Conner tilted his head and looked at his sorta aunt as if trying to work out what she was planning.

"Yeeeeah, what are you up to M? I'm pretty sure you promised Clark you'd not cause mischief when you met everyone."

"I deny ever making that promise. I have evidence to back up that claim too. Plus, the amount of shit Haybale has caused me cos of his moral compass and lack of impulse control makes it fair game. Though I do support his altruism.” She paused debating what she would say next, “To set the record straight what I *actually* promised was that I would *consider* not causing *too much* mischief. And I have considered it and think that I'll survive this course of action. You’re not the only one with playback ability. Thanks for the info Mini Bale. Let's catch up more later!"

With that she ruffled his hair as she walked past him out to see her dear older brother.

"You've spent too much time as a cat M!" Conner called as he tried to sort out his hair. The room erupted as she left the room. Confusion, mild panic as to whether their identities were at risk and answers were demanded from Conner and Jon. Tim whined at Conner’s comment, "Cat?! We've got to keep B away from her!"

___________________________________

Out in the yard, Clark was relaxed surround by what he supposed was the founding JL members. He'd heard his sister turn up and cause subtle chaos amongst the teens in the house slowly dreading her announcing her arrival out here. Ma would be thrilled to see her. He was too, sort of. Just not in front of everyone. Kon-El was right with her spending too much time as a cat. And Tim was right as well. He'd have to keep Bruce away from her, she'd be just his latest type.

"HAY BALE! You're holding a party for little ol' me?! How delightful of you."

Clark cringed. He still hated her nickname for him.

"Lois! Ma! You both look lovely as ever! Oh, it’s been too long since I've seen you in person."

Marinette swooped past Clark to the ladies and gave them huge hugs before quickly falling into conversation to catching up with them, thankfully ignoring Clark allowing him some time to deal with his friends.

"Why is Marinette K from MiracuTech at your farm Clark?"

Barry quickly asked, staring at his sister with stars in his eyes. Ok maybe it wasn't just Bruce Clark had to worry about.

"Yes, why is the Guardian, Lady Fortune, at your home?" queried Arthur looking at Clark with confusion and slight apprehension.

"MiracuTech… Guardian," Diana quickly put together gasping, looking at Arthur who had cottoned on to her implications as well, then back at Marinette.

"Guys! Please! Cool it, M I hope," Clark quickly glared at his sister, who was grinning manically knowing the trouble she was causing for him, "can answer your questions and Barry, M, Marinette, is my sister. Why wouldn't she come here? Though this wasn't planned visit that I was aware of."

"You have a sister."

Bruce stated, as Diana and Arthur wondered off talking in hushed tones. Clark could hear that they had figured out one of her 'other' identities but was content that they wouldn't add drama for the moment he redirected his attention back to Bruce.

Clark sighed tiredly, "yes, I have a sister, Bruce. Who likes to keep her personal life private. Which is why you guys have just found out about her and not before."

"Is she Kryptonian?"

"Bruce!! you can't ask Clark that!!" Barry exclaimed, not really surprised by his bluntness but still Alfred was about, and he was ‘Bruce’ currently so social etiquettes, and all should be observed.

"What can't Moody & Broody ask Haybale, Greedy Gonzales?" Marinette enquired, a picture of planned innocence, as she snuck up on them. She gave Clark a side hug and a ‘knowing’ sibling smile.

"M… please… stop with that nickname. Bruce was just asking if you were adopted as well."

"Fine!" She rolled her eyes, "Boy Scout it is then. Moody & Broody I'm not adopted. Ma and Pa had me as a 'Surprise! you're pregnant’ a few years after they'd adopted Boy Scout here"

Bruce frowned at the names she'd been given them. While she just gave a facade of innocence, she held a glint in her eye that destroyed the illusion along with the names she was giving everyone.

Ignoring Clark and Bruce, Marinette turned to Barry to discuss his work at S.T.A.R labs and potential collaboration with MiracuTech. Clark internally groaned as he watched his sister get animated about some sort of tech project she wanted to discuss.

Bruce observed the interaction. It was clear that she knew more than she was letting on. Though he had done research on his peers to know their weaknesses and strengths, Clark having a younger sister never came up. How he had hidden her was impressive, unless it was herself who had hidden her existence from him… That was worrying causing Bruce to deepen his frown as he watched Barry and Marinette chat.

Clark joined in frowning at the pair, but because of how was Barry flirting with his BABY sister before he started to groan as it seemed to go completely over her head. She still seemed to be oblivious to those around her liking her slightly more than friendship.

"M! Ma's told you before no business talk at home."

Laughing back at him his sister nodded "We’ll have to continue this discussion another day maybe Greedy Gonzalez, when Boy Scout isn't being all boy scout-y and acting like a golden child."

Seeing an opportunity Diana butted in and 'subtly' tried to guide Marinette to where she was sitting with Arthur. "Lady Fortune, it's an honour to meet you in person. My mother has told many a tale of our mutual friends’ legacy"

"M is fine. Lady is much too formal for my liking right Ms Prince? Our friends have told me much about your mother as well Battle Barbie. But I must say I'd be more interested to hear about your curator work at the Louvre" Allowing herself to be led away.

___________________________________

Bruce gave Clark a patented batglare, "She knows." Clark rubbed his neck before back at Bruce.

"Yes. She knows. She's my sister. It's kinda hard to hide learning how to manage superpowers from family you know. It was her and Pa that helped find solutions to manage the powers. Lead glasses… her idea."

Growling at Clarks response. "She knows ours. You told her"

Taking a deep breath, "No Bruce.” Clark sighed out, praying to the god’s his sister cared for, for the patience to deal with his paranoid friend, “I didn't. She's smart. Ridiculously and stupidly smart but that's aside. She *knows* who I am. She follows my career, like I do hers. She knows who I work with, like I know who she works with. And who my friends are. The info is all there to work it out. She's also got me out of tight spots as an alibi way too often. I'm pretty sure this is opportunistic revenge for it. Especially for all she did before Lois *knew*"

"Oh god it was her calling you at the watch tower that made you pale. Not Ma Kent!!" Barry cackled, "She's the one you're scared of!!"

"Ssshhhhh Barry! Yes! She terrifies me. Much more than little sisters should. You do realise she has covered all your butts more than you think too. Remember she is a tech genius, she works *with other* tech genius’s and we, sometimes in a rush in the early days, forgot about cameras and visuals lining up."

Barry paled at that. Bruce on the other hand looked intrigued. Of course, her problem solving, and detective skills would attract him. "How long has she known?"

"Mine, since forever and never told anyone. Yours, as she has never said anything directly, I’m going to guess since we worked together the first times. I don’t really know for how long, but it’s been since the early days. You don’t need to worry though; she understands the need for secrets and how to keep them. This,” Clark says waving his hand around, “is her way to letting you know she knows without stating it. It’s definitely her subtle form of revenge on me for having to hack large corporations and delete footage or claiming that I was with her visiting so couldn’t get caught out.”

Clark turned to Bruce all serious, “Don’t antagonise or integrate her. Please Bruce! She can and will break into the Batcomputer and cause it to run slow and force your phones and alarms to only play baby shark.”

“So, she’s the one who helped you hack LexCorp to get the evidence required for your latest article”

“That’s what you got from that?! That my genius *baby* sister sometimes, might, maybe, help gather evidence to take down corrupt businessmen and politicians?! Not the fact that you shouldn’t wind her up!!”

“Well I know your tech skills aren’t up to scratch and though there was potential for Lois, it doesn’t really fit her MO so its nice to know how you truly do it. Do you think she would tell us how she hacked into JL main computer and the bat computer? Or be willing to assist in building better protection.”

Clark stared at Bruce, and was about to respond, but before he could Diana caught his eye as she knelt before M holding her hand. Stars in Diana’s eyes while Arthur looked like he was going to faint.

He groaned. Now, Diana!

His baby sister was really trying to stress him out with all the potential shovel talks he would need to make. The shimmer in her eyes when she briefly caught him looking at her suggested that she may be more aware that she was letting on. With the headache she was causing him, he would need a drink after all this.

Thankfully, before Marinette could cause more chaos with the Atlantean and Amazonian, her phone went off resulting in her slinking off to deal with what sounded like guardian issues from his eaves dropping giving what he thought was breathing room.

“Are you ok Arthur? Do I need to talk to M?” Clark enquired to his friend, hoping his sister hadn’t caused too much trauma for his friend.

“She can hold both sides of the balance and not succumb to the pressure or temptation. A true soul and so young. You let this all happen to your younger sister?”

Ok so she had caused some trauma for the Atlantean after all. He was certain it was related to the cat as well as the bug.

“Let is a strong word, Arthur. Forced is more appropriate. M is more stubborn than Bruce at times. And at 14... yeah hormonal teenage younger sister in Paris. My hand was forced.”

Diana and Arthur choked looking at Clark in horror, “14!?!?!”

Both Bruce and Barry raised an eye at him in judgement. Like they’re ones to talk with how young they let their mentees join the field.

“It is decided. She will be traveling with me to Themyscira and to Atlantis when Arthur puts on his ‘big boy pants’. She requires extra support in this matter.”

“14? Extra support? Diana, what are you talking about? She is in her 20’s not 14. You can’t kidnap Clark’s sister, Can she?”

Barry looked perplexed by the situation. Unsure on what they are talking about. She seemed to be fine and had survived years without assistance and knowing about their identities. Going to Themyscira and Atlantis would not help with that.

Staring at Clark with an unnerving intensity, Bruce answered Barry’s questions.

“She was one of the Parisian heroes. Their leader from what Diana and Arthur are suggesting. She started her extracurricular activities before even we officially did, much younger than we were and Clark didn’t stop her.”

“Oh.... Wait?! You didn’t stop her!!”

Clark was really regretting this BBQ. It was starting to feel more like an interrogation on his big brother skills, a judgement on his mentoring capability NOT a relaxing escape with friends.

“It would explain why Clark was so insistent of a some of the support protocols now,” Bruce mused. “She didn’t let you help and forced you stay away, didn’t she? Your powers, if you got akumatised, had the potential to cause a global disaster and the magic could have hurt you out of costume.”

“If you knew this, why are you giving me grief! And Diana, you can’t kidnap M. She has a support network already.”

“I didn’t. You just confirmed it. And more support can never hurt.”

Damn bat with his detective trickery and throwing his own arguments back in his face. Groaning in response Clark looked at his friends,

“Fine. You can ask but it’s HER choice no forcing it ok.”

After some grumbled agreements they all agreed.

___________________________________

“I hate you,”

“I love you too, Hay Bale.”

Marinette grinned at her brother with a cup of tea in hand. His friends had finally departed more than one had managed to get him to convince her to exchange numbers. She’d agreed to visit Diana when back in Paris to arrange a visit to Themyscira. It scared him how quickly after the initial interrogation and worry they all accepted her. She was bound to provide them so much blackmail on him. Clark was dreading his next JL meeting.

“You did this on purpose.”

“Not really. Ma knew I was visiting her this month. The fact you were here with everyone was just a perfect opportunity which I took up.”

Clark stared at his sister. None of her nervous tells were showing so wasn’t lying to him, not that she would. She hated secrets, and she carried so many with so many implications if they were revealed. As a result, she hated liars if there was not true reason for them.

“Fine. You do realise I have so many shovel talks now to dish out?”

“What?”

“Did you not see the heart eye’s Barry was giving? Or how Diana was constantly trying to get close? And once Bruce had assessed that you weren’t a threat, kept trying to engage you in conversation about detective stuff?”

“Oh, So, errr, they aren’t like that normally to friends?” A faint blush was making its way across Marinette’s cheeks. “I like wasn’t aware. Can I blame miraculous side effects?”

Clark laughed at his baby sister, yeah as clever as she was, she remained her wonderful blissfully ignorant self on flirting which he adored.

“Nah, they aren’t normally that friendly. Didn’t think you noticed and sure let’s blame the kwami, they caused some of this drama any way. I vote for Plagg and Trixx for being at fault.”

#maribat #maribat au #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x ml #dc x mlb #marinette x clark #siblings #platonic #marinette x superfam

417 notes · View notes

starglow-xx · 3 years

Note

hello! may i request headcanons for chuuya having a crush on someone who's dense? like he could ask them out in the most straightforward way possible and it would still go over their head?

yes, yes of course you may!

sorry this took so long! my computer was out of commission for abt a week (or two..??)

but this is also my birthday writing piece for chuuya!! (4/29/21) i even added a small drabble thingy in addition to the hcs for the occasion hehe

from where i am, it is about fifteen minutes past midnight so it’s officially chuuya day here!!

happy birthday chuuya i love you! you deserve the whole world and everyone is willing to fight tooth and nail to ensure your happiness! we love you! 💗💗

anyways, i hope you all enjoy this! i kinda had some writer’s block but it was still a lot of fun to write! there might be some mistakes, but i’ll scan over it again later. reader is gender neutral! have fun!

chuuya having a crush on a dense! reader

nakahara chuuya x gn! reader

im cackling somebody help him

he’s frustrated bc you can’t take a hint or a thousand but he can’t even be mad bc he’s whipped

“look at you all dressed up today, wanna go out later? my treat?”

“oh really? thanks chuuya-san! you’re such a nice friend. i’ll go invite the others right now, i’ll see you later!”

“...”

fast forward to later in the evening and he finds himself at a little restaurant with the black lizard + higuchi and akutagawa

sigh

in unison all of them go, “thank you for the meal chuuya-san!” (except aku and hirotsu are quieter & and gin just a nods hehe)

“no problem” (ꐦ ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

gin only pats him on the back in sympathy

he spends a lot of time trying to think of ways to make it absolutely and undeniably clear that he has feelings for you

he always fails

“(y/n) i like you”

“i like you too chuuya-san”

“really?”

“mhm”

“t-then will you—”

“you’re a really great friend! and superior too”

“...nevermind”

“oh were you saying something?”

“nah, just forget about it”

tachihara is laughing in the corner of the corridor

dont worry, chuuya made sure to get back at him

chuuya’s been pinning after you for years and frankly, his failed attempts to woo you has lead everyone to the breaking point

and i mean everyone

yes, even aku

hell even dazai

but dazai also thinks it’s funny, so he doesn’t mind all that much

okay bye bye dazai-san this headcanon set isn’t abt you rn

PLEASE EVERYONE FEELS SO BAD FOR HIM

they knew even if he kissed you, you still might not get it

so they decided to help him

super secret mission get chuuya and (y/n) together is a go!

they’re still working on a proper mission name, don’t mind them

they had a super secret strategy meeting!

you can bet your ass that they nearly got nothing done

akutagawa & kaiji weren’t much help, neither was higuchi, mori, or elise

tachihara nearly got killed for a thoughtless comment

“just tell them chuuya-san!”

“i already fucking did you ass!”

gin, hirotsu, and kouyou were the most helpful !!

hirotsu and kouyou both agreed on the idea that chuuya should try courting with bouquets of flowers instead of flat out asking you bc they knew you found them pretty

(even if you don’t identify as a female, flowers are for everyone no matter gender or sexuality! so let’s normalize giving flowers to everyone <33 )

gin didn’t speak but she used cards to communicate

everyone knew that you weren’t stupid (you wouldn’t have survived in the mafia if you were) but they did know that you were only stupid when it came to all this lovey dovey stuff

i mean, if chuuya gave you flowers every so often, there’s no way that you wouldn’t piece it together at some point

right...??

but kouyou assured him that even though you wouldn’t get it right away, you’d appreciate the gestures and that he’ll stand out more

she even said that if someone gave her flowers, she would appreciate it, whether or not she reciprocated their feelings

it takes guts to be so up front with your feelings after all

gin and hirotsu only nodded with her explanation

once again, this only provoked a reaction out of tachihara

“what do you know gin? i get the old man and kouyou-san, they’re grown, but you? what do you know abt courting? or flowers? what are you a girl?”

akutagawa choked on his cough, higuchi on air, and on the other side of yokohoma at the ada, dazai is cackling

yes, dazai somehow placed a listening device onto chuuya’s hat and was listening in

don’t ask how, it’s dazai

“DAZAI GET YOUR BANDAGED ASS OFF THE COUCH AND STOP LAUGHING”

anyways

the next day, chuuya did what was barely discussed and for once, things actually started to look up

until they started look to down again

at first, it actually looked like you understood his intentions after he gave you a bouquet of flowers

literally everyone was leaning against the opposite hallway you two were in and then they got excited !!

especially chuuya !

but then your expression sort of changed...??

and then in their heads they simultaneously went, “oh no”

they knew that expression

it was very familiar when you tended to friend zone chuuya

but boy let me tell you what you said next made them facepalm and or make their jaws drop

“ah, so you really are friend zoning me huh chuuya-san; what a shame, i really did like you”

LEMME TELL YOU WHEN I SAY THAT CHUUYA WAS DISTRESSED I MEAN HE WAS DISTRESSED

you liked him??

him of all people??

he wasn’t complaining, no of course not, but he still couldn’t believe it

but that wasn’t what he was really focusing on right now

what in any form or language did it say he was friend zoning you?!

flower language apparently

chuuya chose to buy the bouquet of yellow roses, pink carnations, and yellow carnations bc he thought you would appreciate the brighter colors, and so that you’d remember them better (because remembering them, meant remembering him)

but ooh boy

altogether, they meant the exact opposite message he wanted to send

someone help him pls

“you see chuuya-san, yellow roses mean friendship, pink carnations mean gratitude, and yellow carnations mean rejection; sooo in a nutshell, these pretty much say ‘thank you for being my friend, but im rejecting you”

no one can tell if tachihara is crying or wheezing

and dazai is having the time of his life

yes, he started listening in on him again

and chuuya is just stunned

like speechless and unmoving stunned

is he just bad at this whole courting/dating thing?? it’s only been one day and of it and somehow he was the one doing the rejecting??

“thank you for the flowers chuuya-san, i’ll be going now; i’ll make sure to let this affect our friendship. i’ll see you tomorrow!”

you passed by the not so subtle group of people

“tachihara-kun..?? are you alright?”

just for context, he was leaning his forehead against the wall using his forearm

again, it was hard to tell whether he was crying or wheezing

“i-im okay (y/n)-san...i think c-chuuya-san has it worse than me”

“...okay..?”

BACK TO CHUUYA

he’s still frozen poor baby

but it’s okay bc after like 5 more seconds he’s chasing you down the hallway you were walking in

kouyou, with a knowing smile on her face, ushers everyone away towards the opposite direction

she received some whines (ahem, tachihara and mori) but silenced them by summoning golden demon

but it’s okay

if they run fast enough, they can see what happens through the security cameras

chuuya caught up with you and tried to explain everything but he was exhausted

emotionally, physically (bc since when did you walk that fast??), and generally just tired with the whole situation

he just wanted to call you his; was that too much to ask??

as explosive as he can be, he can be calm and collected too

and he really did try to be that way as he talked with you but it was very difficult at the moment

the dumbfounded and confused look on your face his face twitch with annoyance and his heart started beating faster bc god you were cute

BUT THATS BESIDES THE POINT RIGHT NOW

thank goodness after what seemed like years, you finally somewhat understood what happened

you didn’t understand completely but it was something

The two of you stood in the middle of the unusually empty hallway facing each other, you with the bouquet still in hand. It was quiet as you and Chuuya assessed the situation.

You looked at him skeptically and he stared right back you with his gorgeous blue eyes.

“...So you do like me Chuuya-san??”

“Yes”

“And you were trying to court me just now, not friend zone me??”

“Yes”

You got most of your questions out of the way, but there was something that you’ve been wondering about for quite a while.

“...So you’re not gay for Dazai-san??”

“Yes, im not wait—GAY FOR DAZAI?? THAT MACKEREL??”

Chuuya did a double take. What in heavens name made it seem like he liked that suicidal maniac?? Why would he choose him if he had you?

Like he would choose him anyways; or ever consider him as a possible romantic partner.

“Oh, so you are?”

“NO! I SAID I LIKED YOU DIDN’T I?”

“Well yeah, but I thought you liked Dazai-san too. As annoying as he is, he can be quite charming—”

He was out of patience at this point (nope definitely not because you were talking about Dazai who told you that?) and just decided to kiss you.

You immediately melted into the kiss and kissed him back with the same amount of love and feeling.

Letting the bouquet fall to the ground, you wrapped you arms around his neck and his put his on your lower back and brought you closer to him. After a few more moments, the two of you broke apart for air.

The two of you, slightly out of breath, leaned your foreheads against each other and just basked in each others presence.

Chuuya looked into your (e/c) eyes and asked you just a little bit above a whisper, “Now do you get my intentions and feeling?”

You blinked at him before breaking out into a grin, “Hmm I’m not sure; do you wanna do that again Chuuya?”

The red head only blinked back at you before rolling his eyes, a smile present on his handsome features, his heart fluttering at you using his name with the honorific.

“Dumbass”

Smiling cheekily at him, you pressed a kiss on his cheek and started dragging him towards the lobby to take a walk around the building perimeter, knowing that the two of you can’t be too far from work.

The way down to the lobby was mostly in comfortable silence until you said something that made Chuuya want to bash his head against the wall.

“You know, you could’ve just told me you liked me Chuuya. It’s not like I would’ve said no.”

Once again, as the rest of the more power mafia members watch from security cameras, it is hard to tell whether Tachihara is crying or wheezing of laughter.

omake !!

The two of you just started making your way around the building when suddenly a very familiar voice came from Chuuya’s prized hat.

“Chuuyaaaa!! It was about time you stopped being a chicken, Chibi!”

Removing his hat from his head, he started yelling at it not knowing exactly where the listening device was planted.

“TEME! HOW DID YOU—”

“And (y/n)! I would congratulate you, but I think I would rather offer you my condolences. Why him?! He’s just a slimy slug. OOH OOH how would you like to join me in a double suicide?! A shame it won’t be a lover’s suicide but it’ll annoy Chuuya so I think it’ll be worth it! ”

“YOU—”

“And please don’t kiss while I’m listening in. You made me lose my appetite! And it was such a shame! I was eating crab using Kunikida-kun’s money! Do you know what you’ve cost me?!”

“DAZAI YOU PIECE OF—”

“Ah! Kunikida-kun is here! I have to go!”

You can hear something is the background that vaguely sounds like, “DAZAI YOU WASTE OF BANDAGES STOP USING MY MONEY”

“DAZAI DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE IM NOT DONE WITH—”

*Click!*

The click sound from the hat revealed that Dazai disconnected.

Chuuya twitched and glared furiously at his signature hat hating that the voice he hated the most came out of it.

“Aww, I didn’t get to talk to Dazai-san”

Chuuya whipped his head towards you, a look of mock (or real) betrayal showing on his features.

You laughed at him before taking the hat out of his hands and placing it on his head.

He shyly looked away before muttering a thanks making you smile wider. Just as the two of you were about to start walking, a small explosion erupted from his hat; it was likely that Dazai made the listening device self destruct.

“DAZAI YOU BASTARDD”

At the Armed Detective Agency, a certain suicidal maniac hid from the wrath of his current partner as he thought about the wrath his old one.

“Hmmm I wonder if Chuuya would finally stop wearing his ugly hats if I blow all of them up...”

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason

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avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

leave out all the rest | c. beck

→ pairing: chris beck x black!reader

→ word count: 5387

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, smidge of angst, smut, sex, breeding kink, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, explicit language

→ square filled: @badthingshappenbingo

flashbacks

→ request: chris beck + breeding kink + "babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that" + "I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that"

→ author note: dr. space daddy is finally here! this is also the first of my 5k celebration fics! all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. thanks so much for the request @thedarkplume! title from linkin park leave out all the rest (i loveeee this song); line divider by @firefly-graphics; flashbacks are in italics. i also formatted this with the beta text post editor on desktop... so hopefully nothing looks weird and the italics/bold actually work... it is tumblr after all.

oh, hey, there’s a bit of a marvel crossover in this too!

Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel in this moment. Your stomach hasn’t been settled since you got the call two days ago. It’s been flipping and twisting ever since. Sleep hasn’t come easy either, but you’re used to that. Ever since Chris left, you haven’t slept well. It’s been almost seven hundred and thirty days— well, just three days short.

You follow the two tall military men, decked out in their dress blues, through the secure facility, your black leather combat boots thudding against the tile floors. Everything is white— the walls, the floors, the coats of all the scientists and doctors milling about— except for you and your flowery, thigh length sundress. Dark eyes wide, teeth nibbling on a sore, often bloody bottom lip from all the nibbling, small purse bouncing off one hip as a duffel bag bounces off the other.

Winding through corridor after corridor, pausing as the men lift their badges to keypads to get door after door to click open. An eerie quiet looms throughout the entire building, nothing but random beeps, your breathing, and footsteps.

Nervous doesn’t begin to describe it.

The walk gives you too much time to think about the last seven hundred and twenty seven days. All of the crying. All of the anger— the screaming. Chris trying to calm you down, assure you that they were okay— that he had to do this.

"It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?" You sobbed into the phone, staring up into the stars, knowing that he couldn’t but secretly hoping that he could see you.

"This is not easy for me," he choked back tears, his tongue heavy, "Leaving you is never easy but I have to do this, baby. We have to go back for Mark. We have to."

You didn’t answer his calls for over a week. And when you did, your words were quick and harsh.

"I can’t do this anymore. I’m moving in with my sister."

Chris was silent on the other end of the phone— too silent. He sighed after a while and just said, "Ok. I understand."

That was day four hundred and sixty three.

So you moved in with your sister. Got a job at the local bar, picked up every shift you could, sometimes working sixty, seventy hours a week— just so you didn’t have to think about him. It didn’t work. You’d still stare out the window at night, up into the big black sky and through the twinkling little stars, wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was thinking about you.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris continued to call your sister. Just to check on you.

Day seven hundred was when two Air Force officers walked into the bar as you were cutting up lemons and oranges. Your stomach, in a perpetual state of tight and sour, dropped to your feet. It’s never good when the military comes knocking on your door.

“He’s dead,” you spit out, eyes watering, chest starting to heave, “He’s dead, isn’t he? They’re all dead.”

When they removed their hats, your hands flew to your face, covering your mouth to muffle the sobs. You just knew they were all dead. Humans can’t stay in space for this long. It’s not natural.

“No ma’am,” the taller, brown skinned man answered, a small smile breaking onto his face, showing off the distinctive gap between his two front teeth, “They’re back in our orbit. They’ll be landing within the next seventy two hours.”

It was a flurry after that. Phone calls, you moving back onto the base, protocol gatherings, interviews with local and national media. None of it mattered. You just wanted to see him— you needed to see him.

Not before his mandatory three week quarantine that is.

Day seven hundred and twenty five is when they called to let you know that he was ready to move onto the second phase of his integration back on earth. Two weeks cohabitating with another person of his choice, just to make sure that his body and cells can still tolerate, you know, earth— and that he doesn’t give off anything that could make earthlings sick.

They called to let you know that Chris chose you— if you wanted to, of course. If not, he could call his sister.

You were packing your bag before the call even ended.

After two days of getting tested for everything known to man, it’s now day seven hundred and twenty seven and here you are, passing through the last set of doors and stepping into a large observatory room. One of the General’s starts talking, but you don’t hear a word. You just blink slow, lips falling open as you stare back at Chris as he stands at the little square window of his living quarters. He smiles soft, running his hand through his short, dark hair before waving and placing his palm on the window.

Tears cloud your vision. Your chin trembles as a sad smile spreads on your face. A sob chokes in your throat and a warm tear streaks down your cheeks. Despite the talking man, you step up to the window and press your much smaller hand on the glass, spreading your fingers to match his. Chris rests his forehead to it and you do the same as you really start to bawl— shoulders shaking, face breaking, breath rushing fast and hard.

"Baby, don’t cry. Come on pretty, don’t— don’t cry."

Chris’ voice is muffled by the thick glass, but just hearing it— so close, so familiar— after so longs it’s just… it’s almost too much. It is too much.

“Ma’am, we can’t let you in there like this. We need you to calm down.”

Dense thuds shake the glass as Chris pounds on it, "Open the door, Sam!"

Sam grabs your bicep, gently, guiding you towards the door— Chris following you both, still talking to you through the glass.

"It’s okay baby, I’m right here. I’m right here."

“We need you to calm down,” Sam starts again, “He hasn’t been around—”

"Sam! Goddamn it, leave her alone! Open the door!"

“Beck! You cool it in there!”

"Don’t be an asshole! Open the door! She’s scared!"

You hear a scoff, “Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.”

"I swear to God—"

“Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.” Sam is stern now, pointing his finger towards Chris.

Sam pauses for a few long seconds, blinking slow but keeping his hand around your bicep— and thank God, because you honestly need it, “I’m going to badge you into the hallway, okay? You take this keycard,” he presses it into your palm, “And put it up to the keypad at the second door after I close this door behind you. It’s only good for one passthrough— once you’re in, you’re in until the medical staff clears you both. Understand?”

The second half of his speech is softer, his thumb rubbing the back of your arm. You like Chief Master Sergeant Sam Wilson. You nod quick, rubbing at your face with the back of your hand, sniffling hard and focusing a shaky breath out through your teeth as you step in front of the door. There’s a loud click and the metal pops, Sam reaching past you to push it open.

Your body, on autopilot, takes three steps to the second door, eyes staring at the keypad on the wall beside it. Chris is still talking to you through the windows, one hand pressed to the glass, the other on the door handle.

"Just a few more seconds baby. You’re doing so good."

There’s another click— Sam closing the door behind you. Water fills your eyes again, emotion choking up in your throat at the gravity of it all. All of the screaming. All of the crying. All of the hating him and loving him and missing him for seven hundred and twenty seven days all culminating right here, right now, while he’s just three feet away from you. The sky used to be the thing keeping you apart— now it’s just a wall. A door— that you can’t walk through.

"Baby, Chris says gently, "Come on baby. Open the door, honey."

You’re frozen. Eyes locked on the keypad, fingers gripping the keycard so hard they start to burn. Open the door, honey takes you back. Takes you back to the day that he told you he was going up— that he’d be gone for a year.

“Open the door, honey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You sniffle, staring at your reflection in the mirror in your small bathroom.

“You knew this was coming. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“A year? A year, Chris? I’m just supposed to put my life on hold for you for an entire year?”

He sighs through the door, “I’ve worked my ass off for this, you know that.” You do know that, you’re just being selfish. Needy and selfish, “I know we’ve got plans baby, but it’s just a year. One year and then I’m all yours—”

“Yeah, until the next time you decide to go up there. This is what Melissa warned me about. You get addicted to it.”

“I won’t.”

“You will,” you retort, “I know you.”

That makes him laugh, and then you’re laughing because he’s laughing, “Open the door, please.” Chris sighs again.

As soon as you turn the knob, he’s pushing through it, lifting you up off your feet and twirling you around— to make you laugh again.

You were standing on a precipice that night and neither one of you knew it. Your lives, both individual and combined, would change forever and that was the night that set it all in motion.

The keycard digs into your fingers and palm, bringing you back into the present. Back into the hallway, back in front of Chris. You blink, linking eyes with him again, finding them soft and down turned, his head tilted as he presses his fingers to the glass.

"Let me hold you," he says soft. So soft that the glass between you gobbles it up. But you just know that’s what he said. You just know.

The door clicks in your ear, a breeze is in your face as Chris throws it open, and then you’re consumed. Arms wrapped around you, hard chest against yours as you’re lifted right off of your feet. He’s so warm— he’s always been so damn warm.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, leaning back a little as you push your face into his neck, “This moment was the only thing keeping me going.”

“I’m sorry,” you sob, pushing your face into his shoulder, your tears wetting his NASA sweatshirt, “I’m so sorry, I was so selfish,” the words are clipped and broken, heavy on your tongue, “Chris, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that, it doesn’t matter.” He sits you back on your feet, rubbing your back with both of his large hands, “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

You cry openly into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and pushing your hands up into his sweatshirt, under the thin t-shirt underneath— just to feel his skin, “I missed you so much.”

One, two, three, four pecks of his warm lips on the top of your head before he rests his cheek there, holding you tight as he takes a deep breath, “All that’s over now, hmm?” you can feel the smile on his face, “We don’t have to miss each other anymore.”

A yawn pushes out of your mouth as you stretch out tight, sore muscles screaming. Eyes flutter as you shift, another deep breath pushing out your nose as you nuzzle your face into the pillows, body cocooned in warmth. You’re drifting again, quick, when an abrupt panic races through your veins without warning. Your stomach drops, skin instantly flushing with heat as you spring up, eyes as wide as saucers as your breath rushes.

That’s when you hear it, an all too familiar sound. A pencil, tapping slowly, methodically, against something. It calms you instantly. It’s real, you’re real, Chris is real, and you’re here. He’s here.

You swing your legs over the edge of the small bed, tucked in the corner behind a small partition. There’s a soft light glowing underneath it and a single red blinking dot emanating from the corner of the room— a camera. You push your hair out of your face but keep your fingers on your cheeks, closing your eyes as you focus on your breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. There’s a murmur, Chris mumbling to himself and you can’t help but smile.

You stand and start moving towards the noises, padding soft and slow as his mess of brown hair and hunched back comes into view. He stands, switching out an X-Ray on the viewer before he plops back down into the swivel chair, staring at it for a second before he starts flipping through the large, open text book just to his left. There’s a little white board off to the right, leaning against the wall, the days he’s been “gone”, seven hundred and twenty seven, scribbled in his messiest of messy handwriting.

The little slice of time watching him sends you right back to your college years, waking up in his dorm room, finding the bed empty and him huddled over a too small desk, furiously flipping through a thousand page text book. You’d sneak up on him, just as you are now, barely dressed and sleepy eyed. Dig your fingers into his hair, scratch his scalp slow. Giggle as his shoulders slump and his head falls back a little, him moaning all the while.

“God, that feels good.”

“You let me fall asleep.”

“You cried yourself to sleep. Didn’t have the heart to wake you… you look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

“Hmm, more like two. What are you doing?” you ask, pushing around his side and crawling into his lap, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Looking at our X-Rays from earlier today. I’m working on another paper for the Institute.”

“Trying to see if you guys are still earthlings?”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through you, making you smile, “Kinda, yeah. Our body masses have changed dramatically— our bones are longer, I’m not shitting you.” You giggle again at the enthusiasm in his voice, “It’s just a few centimeters, but still. Our brain waves are a little different, metabolism has sped up… it’s incredible.”

You keep the small smile on your face as your fingertips drift over his chest, rubbing slow as you feel his eyes fall to you, “You should get back in bed,” he says, squeezing your knee gently, “You look so tired, baby.”

“Not without you.”

He laughs again, “My circadian rhythm’s all fucked up, I can’t sleep.”

“Then it looks like you're stuck with me,” you kiss his chin and then cuddle back into him, “Don’t mind me.”

Mind you, he doesn't. He just goes about flipping pages and scribbling down random thoughts, marking up his pile of x-rays and fumbling through his and the rest of the crew's medical charts. You push your hand up into the arm of his navy blue NASA sweatshirt, raking your nails up and down his forearm absentmindedly as you breathe him in. Your other hand wanders too, tracing the band of his dark sweatpants before skipping up into his sweatshirt, brushing over his stomach and up to his chest.

The pads of your fingers outline the muscles that are still there, his pecs, down and across his soft abs, before back up and over a cheeky nipple. He jumps slightly, crinkling his nose as he smiles big and hard, “Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

“Oh, is that so?”

You bat two big eyes up at him, the weight of going almost two years without catching up with you right at this moment. A hum vibrates in your throat as you stand, taking a few steps away from him before you toss your eyes over your shoulder, licking your bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it. You hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers after a few moments, watching him drag his big eyes down your bare legs and then back up over your powder pink satin shorts and matching camisole.

“Come to bed, Dr. Beck.”

He’s up and on his feet before the words are out of your mouth. Warm fingers interlace with yours as the two of you move back towards the bed, falling onto the soft twin size mattress. His weight dips into the bed as he sinks his knees into it, pulling his sweatshirt over his head as you crawl towards the headboard. You draw your legs up, swaying them gently back and forth, palms flat on your thighs as you inhale deep, watching as he tosses his shirt to the floor.

The smile on your face grows larger as he crawls over you, pushing your legs open with his soft hands before he settles right between them. Chris takes his time looking at you, smiling soft as his eyes drift over your face, his index finger dragging down the bridge of your nose, over two full lips, and down your chin and neck. You let out a quick breath when the pad of that sneaky finger dips just inside your tank top— right into your cleavage.

He cups your face, his thumb resting on your lips, brushing gently, “I’m never leaving you again,” he whispers, blue eyes filling with earnest as they bounce between yours, “I mean it.”

You turn your head into his palm, pressing your lips into the soft, warm skin, planting kisses, “You promise?”

The delivery is breathless. Quiet. Small. Almost begging him to mean it. He takes a deep breath, pushes it out slow before leaning in, closing his eyes as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. That’s when he kisses you— slow. Deep. Tongue pushing through your lips and into your mouth. Massaging the roof of your mouth before sliding along your tongue. He even moans a little, lets his body— muscles, bones, brain— relax. Lets himself melt into you because it’s just been so damn long.

It ends slow, the kiss. Chris grabbing your lip with his teeth and pulling gently before he rests his forehead to yours. Eyes closed, his big, skilled hands and fingers flirting with your calves—pushing over your knees and then down your thighs to come to rest on your sides and hips.

“I promise.” You slide your hands up and down his sides, letting your eyelids flutter as he continues, punctuating his words with more gentle kisses, “We can start that life you’re so crazy about,” he laughs when you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, “Buy you a house.”

“On the base?”

“I thought you didn’t like the base?”

“I don’t… but I kinda... do.”

“Then yeah, on the base if that’s what you want.”

Your eyes are still closed as hot lips press against your face— the crook of your nose, underneath one eye, cheeks, and then chin. You push your fingers up into his hair as he forges a path with his lips and tongue— down your neck, over two collarbones, down your arm— all the while his hands move upward. Up into your silk top, nimble fingers playing with two tight nipples before he rucks the silk top up to your chin.

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What about them?”

“Them, who?”

Pointing with your foot towards the blinking red light in the corner, “Them.”

He laughs and you laugh, covering your face with your hands until Chris pries them away, “They’re nerds, babe. We’ve already made them so nervous they’ve left the control room.”

You honestly can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. Not since he left you suppose. It’s a nice sound, for both you and him, filling up the small space, making it alive and lived in instead of clinical and dry, “That’s not nice, Chris!”

He shimmies the thin material up over your head, casting it to the floor, “It’s the truth! I should know. Remember the first time I saw you naked? I couldn’t look anybody in the eye for a week.”

The memory makes you laugh, soft and dreamy-like, “That was so long ago.”

Chris catches the tone. It makes him halt, for just a second, his eyes shifting away from you. Guilt. For holding you at an arm’s length for so long. For making you number two. For making you wait for him for so damn long.

You tilt your head, eyes searching his. Gentle hands claim his face, pulling him back into your strong gaze, “Stay with me,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, “You’re buying me a house.”

“Ah, yes,” with one fell swoop, your shorts are pulled down your legs, right over the tips of your manicured toes and thrown to the floor, “One story? Two?” He asks, back up on his knees.

“Umm, maybe just one,” You answer, sitting up, slipping your hands into the dark sweats still covering his bottom half, “A two story house is too much to keep clean.”

You pull, but not all the way. Just enough to see his hips and that little tuft of dark hair underneath his belly button. You can’t help yourself and lean forward, kissing his stomach, giggling when he jumps a little. When you do it again, kiss him, and then a third time, and a forth, he gives in. Sweeps your locs over your shoulders and pulls them into a ponytail in his hand. That’s when you hook your thumbs back underneath the thick band of his sweats and pull a little harder, pushing the material right over his hard cock, making it bounce.

Chris kicks out of the sweats, grabs your face in his hands and tilts it upward. Leans down and kisses you again— soft. Sweet. All while rubbing small circles into your cheeks with his thumbs. He stays there, forehead to forehead, eyelashes spread over his buttery, quickly blushing red cheeks as you palm him, dragging your hand from the base right to the tip.

It doesn’t take much— never has. After a few strokes, he’s wet and red all over. Chest, neck, cheeks. Mouth agape, pulling in ragged breaths as his eyelids flutter. He swallows hard, and then hums quick, deep and throaty before inhaling through his open mouth. You push upward, kissing him as you continue slow strokes, sweeping a thumb over his wet tip.

Fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh, down low, first by your knee. Then, slowly, they skirt upward, not groping or kneading, just brushing— flirting with your skin until they reach their destination. You gasp, mouth falling open as adept fingers— not only just in general, but with your body specifically— push through wet folds.

“One story it is then,” he breathes, hot, unhurried, “A dog and a,” he slams his eyes shut, hissing and grunting when you squeeze him, “Fuck baby,” he swallows again, lips trembling as he nuzzles in, rubbing the tips of your noses together, “A dog and a cat.”

Your free hand wraps around his neck, fingertips pushing into his hair as your head tips back, hips start to shove forward, eager for his touch— wanting those fingers inside. When Chris obliges, sinks his index and middle finger into your cunt— touch starved and needy— you mewl. Making a real sound for the first time in seven hundred and twenty seven days. It enlivens you both.

Chris pushes you back, lays you back onto the small mattress, spreads you out. Keeps his fingers inside, pumping slow, curling, massaging. Thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing. He lays between your legs, coming face to face with your most intimate and blows gently. Warm air sticking to balmy flesh. Big blue eyes flick up to yours, then back to your sweet, licking his lips as a squelch fills the room.

His tongue darts out, slips along the inside of your thigh. Your hips react instantly, jutting upward as a sharp breath fills your chest. A long arm pushes up your body, fingers prodding your breast, tweaking a nipple before he palms the skin, but not for long. Within seconds, his fingertips are pushing into a willing mouth. Your tongue, swirling around thick digits as you grab onto his hand, holding it there.

Warm air tickles damp skin again as he blows on you, “Have some babies,” he offers quick, the words muffled by your flesh as he finally laps at you, tongue slipping through sticky folds, flattening against your slit as he massages the delicate, “How many you want, baby?”

Nothing but a bitten-off groan answers him. It comes for many reasons. His fingers somehow delving deeper, lips brushing over your cunt— the thought of babies. Little brown skinned, curly headed babies running in the backyard with that dog and cat. Wide smiles, complete with missing teeth, loud laughter, declarations of love as they jump into mommy and daddy’s arms.

“Oh yeah,” heavy words breathed into your ear, a hunk of man now laying on top of you, cock pressing at your opening, “My pretty girl wants babies,” the wetness makes it easy for him to slide in— all the way in— bury deep, “I’m gonna give them to you. You’ve been so good.”

He’s moving, hips pushing and pulling as he cups your face in his hands, presses his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna fill you up,” he mutters, swollen lips brushing against yours, “Stuff you— full of— my, fuck,” a deep moan, another quick hiss as he bites his bottom lip, overcome by the warmth, the wet— the tight, “Fuck, you feel good.”

Feverish lips are on yours again, teeth nibbling as his hips shove into you. Soft and swift. A palm covering your breast, fingers pressing, kneading and working sensitive, responsive skin. Nipples hardening, heat blooming across an ardent canvas of skin, pulsing hips eager to meet his.

Chris cups your chin, pushes upward so you're forced to keep slitted eyes on him and him only, “You want my babies? Hmm? Tell me baby,” you can only whimper in response, digging your nails into his sides, drawing your legs up and around him as he plunges deep, “Come on honey, use those words. Tell me how much you want my babies.”

He fucks into you hard, jamming his hips just once— the sound of skin on skin slapping out loud and off the walls. It arches your back, the sudden, quick thrust. Sends you right up into his chest. Chris pulls you into his lap as he falls back on his ass, extending his legs, heels digging into the mattress as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and tight, fingers spreading out on your back.

Hips roll into one another. Fingers grip his calf as you lean back, hot, sloppy lips on your chest, over and between bouncing tits. A taut nipple pulled right into his wet mouth. Slippery tongue swirling and flicking, teeth nibbling before he sucks on the tight nub, teasing it further.

Then he’s holding your hips, forcing you down onto his cock. More rushed, sticky words falling from swollen, red lips, “You want me to fill you up? Hmm? Tell me.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, overcome by it all. The emotion of it, the physicality of you and him tangled together— the words, how many years you’ve waited to hear those words.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he purrs, thrusting harder, faster, “You want me to come in you, don’t you? You’d love it if I came in you, huh? Knocked you up? Gave you a baby?”

You kiss him hard. Cupping his face, moaning sweet into his wet mouth, “I want it,” it’s breathy— desperate, “I want it, Chris. I want it.”

“Then I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you.”

It’s feverish after that. Pushing and pulling. Grunting, smacking— lips on lips, skin on skin. Large hands gripping, fingers pressing into the meat of thighs and calves and ass and tits. His fingers grip the meat of your thighs, your ass, slide up your back— around your neck as your head falls back. Those fingers find your mouth, push just inside as he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling your hips closer, helping them rock.

His fingers are out of your mouth, cupping your cheek now. Smoothing hair out of your face as it strains. You try not to get loud, slam your eyes closed, purse your lips as your toes curl and stomach tightens… heart flutters.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over your closed eyes before prodding at your lips, “Don’t do that, honey. I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that. Come on, let me hear you.”

“No, I—“

“Don’t be modest,” his tone shifts, going stern and deep, and that’s all it really takes for the noise to flow, “I wanna hear you.”

But he knew that.

It’s a sweet little hum, and then a gasp before it’s clipped by an obscenity— a shaky, desperate, filthy word that dissolves away into a loud groan and then… it’s all downhill from there.

You couldn’t hold it in if you tried. It’s been too long. A pent up aggression, a nervous need all finally working its way out of you. You pull him close— crush your chest against his, wrap two liquid arms around his neck, press your face right against his. Chris loops an arm around your waist, squeezing your opposite hip, pressing his fingers right into the soft skin until it hurts.

But it’s good, the pain of the squeeze. It helps you right over the edge, makes you finally cum after seven hundred and twenty seven days. Slow at first. A warmth just taking its time as it spreads. The feeling sort of foreign because it’s been so long— your brain hasn’t caught up just yet.

When it does catch up, brain and body finding each other, dormant synapses kicking on with a jolt, it’s not just a warmth. It’s molten now, searing and stirring, passing through veins and muscles and skin and bone— it’s that deep. Toes curling so hard they go numb, fingertips digging into his shoulders as you throw your head back.

You’re sure the scientists and military guards can hear you three floors down.

Chris leans in, hot, wet, shiny lips pressing against your chest, over your tits with sloppy kisses, hips still churning into yours until they just can’t. Wet walls closing in, clamping down as they spasm, that molten enveloping him. His hips freeze quick with the first spurt, but find a haphazard rhythm as he comes. Fills you up just like he promised.

He pushes those warm blooms of silk deep with now pointed, long strokes. Not a drop escaping— it’s all for you, after all. Supply and demand and all that.

The mattress is a dream beneath you. Inviting and soft as he lays you into it, still rooted deep as he rolls you onto your side. An arm snakes around your hip, a palm and long fingers anchoring in the center of your chest. A hot, flushed cheek presses against yours as lazy wet lips drag along the back of your neck. Languid thrusts at random intervals keeps you gasping as he tucks his knees and thighs into the backs of yours.

“Say it again,” you whisper after a few quiet minutes, breath still heavy, chest still heaving.

Chris plunges into you again, soft and sweet and deep, “Say what, honey?”

“That you won’t,” the words break off, a moan replacing them as he kisses a trail down your arm, fucks into you once, twice, three times, “That you won’t leave me again.”

“I’m not leaving you again.”

When you wake up the next morning, that little whiteboard with the days scribbled on it is erased. All it says now?

Day one.

#bad things happen bingo #5k...holy god #chris beck #chris beck x reader #chris beck x black!reader #chris beck x you #you x chris beck #reader x chris beck #the martian #chris beck fanfiction

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ibuki-loves-you · 3 years

Text

Trigger Happy Havoc Girls with an S/O who is like Mikan

Warnings: Mikan's personality/actions

Mod Ibuki: Hey hey hey!! Sorry for the long wait on this :/ I hope it was worth it, though!

Kyoko:

Kyoko was immediately worried for your safety

She had a lot of questions

Why were you so shy? Had you been through something?

She kept those questions to herself though

If someone ever made fun of you, she’d glare

Literally just walk up to you, wrap on arm around your waist and the other on your arm

And glare

If you ever took a fall in front of her she’d carefully lean down and help you up, suggestive or not

Although she might blush a bit if it was a suggestive position

“There, you’re alright. It was just a small trip, thankfully.”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she would be appalled

“Love, I don’t want you to take your clothes off because I’m not in a particularly good mood. Bad moods are normal, that doesn’t mean you take your clothes off every time it happens. Don’t offer that to me unless you personally want to do it.”

Kyoko is not someone you can look at and feel as if she’s mad at you, because she makes it clear if she is

But if you did think she was, she’d be pretty upset

“No, love. I’m not mad. You did absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing at all. I honestly don’t think I can be mad at you. You just seem to make everything better.”

Kyoko’s heart skips a beat whenever you’re around <3

Hina:

Hina LOVED YOU

The minute you two met she did not let you out of her sight for long periods of time

She was just worried someone would hurt you or take advantage of you

If someone ever made fun of you, she’d be so mad

No one wants to deal with mad swimmy baby

“That is so rude, you know!? That was completely uncalled for! There was absolutely no reason to say that! Now apologize!”

If you ever took a fall in front of her, she would honestly fall too just to make you feel less embarrassed

She’d cover you if need be, though

Either with clothing or with herself when she “falls”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d be in shock

Mainly because you offered it to her because you thought she was upset

“What!? Please, S/O, no! Don’t say that! Taking your clothes off won’t make me feel better, cuddles will! Get over here! Because of that statement, I demand you let me cuddle you!”

If you ever thought Hina was mad, which is rare, she’d he so upset

“Baby! No! Not at all! I could never be mad at you! I swear! Your face is just too adorable to be mad at!”

Swimmer baby just wants your happiness above all

Celestia:

Celeste would never admit it if anyone asked

But she loved you the minute she laid eyes on you

Your personality only made her want to be with you more

Not many people dared to bother you, but if an unlucky soul did try to do such a thing…

Celeste would give them a run for their money

“Are you fucking kidding me!? How dare you!? Why don’t you crawl back into whatever ditch you crawled out of and leave my significant other alone! Do I make myself clear!?” She’d turn to you and give you a soft smile. “Come on, dear. Let’s go get some tea to cheer you up, yes?”

If you fell in front of her, she wouldn’t be able to catch you without falling herself, but she’d immediately take your hands and help you up

“Come now, darling. Don’t cry, it was an accident. Everything is alright.”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, it would take a second to click

But once it did her reaction was similar to Kyoko’s

“Darling, I don’t wish for you to take off your clothes merely because Yamada put me in a foul mood. I would much rather you keep said clothes on and have a cup of tea with me, maybe some conversation as well. Please don’t offer yourself to me out of pity.”

If you ever thought she was made at you, she honestly thought she was gonna cry

“W-What? Dear, no. Not one bit. Not one ounce of me is angered by you. I love you far too much to be mad at you. Now, come here and let me hug you.”

Celeste truly does care about you, more than she has cared for anyone before <3

Sakura:

Protective

That’s it

Sakura wants your safety above all, because she knows how shy people can be taken advantage of easily

If anyone dared to make fun of you, oh boy

Sakura is fucking terrifying

“I suggest you run before I snap you in half.”

That’s all it takes to send them on their way

If you fell in front of her, she would definitely be able to catch you

And she would!

But if you did manage to miss her arms, she’d pick you right back up and hold you

“See? I got you. Everything is okay.”

If you offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d be calmer, but nonetheless upset

“Hey, don’t do that. I don’t want you because of your body. I want you because of your personality. That’s what I fell in love with. Don’t offer yourself to me, or anyone else. Ever. It’s your body, you can most certainly choose what to do with it.”

If you thought she was angry with you, she’d be so quick to tell you otherwise

“No, not at all. I am not mad in the slightest. Even if I was, I’d never take my anger out on you. That’s wrong, and I love you too much to even think about doing that.”

With Sakura as your girlfriend, you will always be protected. And that’s a promise

Mukuro:

Mukuro is shy, but definitely not as shy as you

Like Sakura, she wanted your safety above all

Let it be from others or her cruel sister

If someone ever made fun of you, she’d be pretty angry

Hell, she may put those skills of hers to good use

“Hey. Don’t let me hear you say something like that again. Ever. That’s just plain disgusting.”

If you ever took a fall in front of her, her reflexes are extremely fast, so she’d try her absolute best to catch you

More often she does, but on the off chance she’s unsuccessful, she’d apologize with a bright blush

“I-I’m sorry, love. I tried to catch you, uh, I’m sorry. Here, grab my hands.”

If you offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d immediately say no

“S-S/O! No! No, I-I don’t want you to do that! I-I’m not in a bad mood, and even if I was I wouldn’t want you to take your clothes off just to try to improve my mood! Please don’t offer that to me, that’s practically violating you! And I don’t want to do that!”

If you ever thought she was mad at you, poor girl might cry

“L-Love, I’m not mad at all. I-I promise. Even if I was mad, I don’t think it could be caused by you in all honesty. I love you, okay?”

Soldier baby’s heart go brrr

Sayaka:

Shy or not, Sayaka’s a cute blushy mess around you

She still teases you in a friendly manner, but always makes sure you know she’s only playing

If anyone over bothered you, she’d be incredibly salty

Like, pettiness and all

“Oh, so that’s how you’re gonna be? Well, I’ll have you know that my significant other is NOT gonna do that. You’re a rude person and I hope karma hits you hard.”

If you took a fall in front of her, she’d screech so sound and try to catch you, but would most likely fail

When she saw that you were embarrassed, like Hina she would trip to make you feel better

“See, S/O? It’s fine! Now we both tripped, hehe! Isn’t that funny!”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d hug you immediately and try to make you happy

“Nope! I don’t want that, okay? I want to kiss your cute face! Not rub up on you because you want to make me happy! Now c’mere, so I can kiss your cute face!”

If you ever thought she was mad at you, though, she’d be really sad

“What? No, I’m not mad at all! Let alone at you! I promise, S/O. Even if I was mad, I’d have a peaceful conversation. Not a screaming match about it! Now, give me a hug!”

Sayaka will hug you as much as you please, as long as it makes you happy <3

Toko:

Toko thought you were annoying at first

But then she realized how similar you two were

Not long after, she fell in love with you

Just like in those cheesy novels she writes

If someone ever bothered you, she’d get pretty mad

Lowkey considers letting Syo out

“H-Hey, asshole! T-That’s a r-real d-dick t-thing to say! S-So w-why d-don’t you just g-go back to w-whatever ditch y-you crawled o-out of a-and d-die!”

If Syo was around when someone bothered you, well I think we know how that'll go

They aren't around anymore, especially if they were a pretty boy

If you ever fell in front of her, she’d lowkey get second-hand embarrassment, but would help you up anyways

“Hey, l-look, you’re fine. N-Not a scrape or anything. Y-You’re okay.”

Syo would leap into action immediately and pull you to your feet

"See!? It's like you never even fell! You're okay! No tears, I hate seeing you cry!"

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d freak the fuck out

“W-What!? N-No! D-Don’t do t-that! K-Keep your clothes o-on! I-I’m n-not mad! E-Even if I w-was, I w-wouldn’t w-want you to s-strip! Y-You’re t-too p-pretty for t-that!”

If Syo was around, she would as well

"What!? Oh no no no, this just won't do! You're body is far to marvelous to be shown so willingly, y'know that? Don't let others see it so easy! Even if it is just me! Doesn't matter!"

If you thought she was mad at you, she’d scoff at first, but then realize you were being serious

“What? I’m not m-mad at you. W-Why would I b-be mad at y-you? I-I have no reason to b-be. D-Don’t say that, I-I’d tell you if I-I was mad at you...S-Speaking as if I-I c-could g-get mad at y-you.”

Syo would latch onto you and hug you, giving you a little spin

"No, dollface! I'm not angry at all! See? I'm happy! So happy! Especially because my baby-cakes is here! Now, c'mon! Gimme a smooch!"

Even though she’d deny it at first, Toko really does love you

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