#yeah Dark Matter and ‘Dark Matter’ and two separate things
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Summer Heat
Summary: You run into your ex Taehyung at a bar and go home with him just to keep hanging out. But perhaps Taehyung wants more. And so do you.
Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader
Genre: exes au, exes to lovers, fluff, smut.
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, dialogue heavy, communication, fingering, mention of oral, unprotected sex.
Notes: An exes to lovers Taehyung drabble request!!!! sorry it took so long...hope you enjoy anon! (and whoever else hehe)
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“Why did we break up?”
Did he ask that? Or did you? You aren’t sure who asked that. You just know that it’s been asked by one of you. The question floats in the air, the words growing bigger until they pop next to your ear. Your stomach stirs uncomfortably when the words echo a little, and finally, you realize it sounds a lot like your voice. You gulp.
“You don’t know?” Taehyung leans against the door frame, wood creaking before his arms cross over his chest. “If you don’t know then I definitely don’t know.” He suddenly smiles.
You’re wondering how you two ended up in his guest bedroom at his house. How you find yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, a towel neatly folded in your lap as you wait for Taehyung to leave the room so you can shower. You glance at the dresser where his clothes lay on top, ready for you to borrow. Wearing his clothes is…
“Sorry.” You look down, “I shouldn’t have asked honestly.”
“Why not?” His voice is teasing.
You look up again, “Because we spent the whole night talking about how the past is the past and I don’t know, it just felt nice to hang out. I don’t want to ruin any,” You motion your hands in the space between you, “Like…vibe we got going on.”
Taehyung laughs, his back relaxing more against the wall. “It has been fun, right? Who would have thought I’d run into you tonight.”
“I can’t believe its six in the morning.” You glance towards the window, a dark blue sky beginning to light up. “Thanks again for letting me crash here.”
“I’m the one who insisted we stay up.” Taehyung stretches his neck, a small smile still on his face. “We had, what was it? 5? 6 years to catch up on?”
“Something like that.” You smile back, shrugging a little. “Lucky tomorrow is Saturday and we don’t have to work.”
Taehyung gazes at you, the softness in his eyes hard to miss. “I think I would have stayed up no matter the day of the week.”
Your stomach tightens, “Oh yeah?”
“So why did we break up?”
He asks this time. The question now echoing in his voice.
“I don’t know really.” You answer, “We weren’t ready?”
Taehyung separates his back from the door frame, his legs taking him to the end of the bed where he sits next to you. “We were young?”
“And not ready.” You emphasize this time. “Right person, wrong time.”
“So are you going to let me know when it’s the right time?” Taehyung asks you, his voice quieter as he looks ahead. “Because who knows, maybe it’s still right person.” His eyes slide towards you, curiosity sitting in them.
You can’t help but quietly gasp to yourself, his curious eyes sharpening the more he gazes at you. You’ve been wondering all night. You’ve been wondering if there’s still something between you, especially because something electric has been bringing you closer the past few hours. But you didn’t know if it was your imagination.
Taehyung’s gaze drops down to your hand that rests against the mattress. His eyes trail up your bare arm and it feels as if his fingertips are grazing your skin.
“You think we’re still a good match?” You breathe out your words, your eyes falling to Taehyung’s bottom lip. “Or do your interests only lie in getting laid tonight?”
Taehyung’s eyes grow round, shocked at first before he chuckles, “Can it be both?”
You bite back another smile. “Maybe.”
It’s been five and half years since you and Taehyung called things off—well, since you called things off. In your eyes, it really was right person, wrong time. You aren’t sure if Taehyung agreed at that time because you didn’t really give him the chance to. That still stings a little. Probably more for him than you but seeing how lighthearted he’s been all night, you guess he’s over it.
Are you over it?
You kind of have to be.
“I remember you being a really good kisser.” Taehyung’s fingers crawl over to yours, his skin warm as he subtly touches you.
You bite down onto your bottom lip, another smile forming. “So this is about getting laid tonight.”
“Not at all. But maybe a part of it.” Taehyung taps his fingers before weaving them through yours. Then he pulls back. “But if you don’t want to do anything…”
“Who said that?” You find his dark eyes, “I might just be teasing you.”
“You’ve always loved teasing me.”
“Maybe I still do?”
“So, some things haven’t changed.” He teases back, shaking his dark hair from his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if some things were still the same. There’s some things I’m hoping are very different though.”
“Like what?” You can’t help but ask, your hand sliding closer to his again.
“One, I hope you stopped being such a picky eater. And two, you let me have an opinion about us.”
You feel that sting. It shouldn’t be you who feels it but you do. “Us?”
“Yeah.” He hums, his fingers suddenly between yours again. He leans closer to you, “I want to decide things too.”
“Like what?”
“Like,” Taehyung naturally grows closer to you, his body suddenly pushing up against your side when he leans down and presses his lips against your bare shoulder. “If I should be in your life or not.”
You slowly close your eyes when you feel his warm breath before he places a kiss on your shoulder. Then another. And another.
He continues, “Last time, you decided without me. This time I want a say.” Another kiss.
You feel your stomach turn upside down, his lips confusing you while his words make you feel guilty.
“Taehyung.” You say his name, your voice uncontrollably insecure. “Are we talking about this now?”
Another kiss. “No.”
You open your eyes, your back straightening when you feel his arm wrap around your waist. It feels good and familiar. Yet you aren’t sure how to react.
“Is it crazy to say I’ve missed you?” Taehyung sighs out, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “It is, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have thought about you so much in these last few years.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Your stomach flops again, but this time you feel intrigued. “What did you miss? Me? Or my lips? My mouth? My—”
“—Can’t I say everything?” Taehyung lifts himself, his eyes urging you to look at him. He stays close. “I missed your overthinking too, believe it or not.”
Your lips curl at the thought, his teasing working. “Oh yeah?”
“But I missed your hugs the most. When we hugged earlier…I swear I wanted to give you me right then and there.”
“Your vodka sodas make you chatty, don’t they?”
“Oh yeah.” He chuckles, “You aren’t used to it, right?”
“Considering you didn’t drink when I knew you, no. But it was fun drinking with you tonight.”
“You got kind of chatty too.” Taehyung decides to create space between you both, his body suddenly laying back on the bed. “Never been in love with anyone else since me?” He sounds proud. “Feels like that should have taken longer to admit—”
You hit his thigh with your fist, embarrassment hot on your neck. “Shut up, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Also, it’s the truth and I can’t change it.”
You’re turned to eye him, but you quickly look away before laying down yourself. You keep your hands together, resting on top of your stomach.
“I’m not sure I’ve really been in love either. Maybe. Maybe not.” Taehyung tells you. “I’ve definitely thought about you over the years though.”
“Like what?”
“Your mouth—”
You hit his thigh again.
He laughs this time, “Okay, okay. Like for example, I saw someone eating skittles a few weeks ago and it reminded me of you. How you eat them all except the purple ones.”
“I still don’t eat the purple ones.”
“Great.” Taehyung huffs out dramatically, “You’re still picky.” He turns his head towards you and you do the same, meeting his eyes. Your stomach flops again when he smirks at you. “Somehow I missed that, too.”
“Liar,” You can’t help but laugh. “You—”
“We still click, you know?” Taehyung cuts you off, his gaze sharp again. “I’d like to hang out again. But not as friends or anything…as…I don’t know,” He turns his head, eyes on the ceiling while he smiles sheepishly. “I want to see if we can make this work. Possibly.”
“Vodka sodas make you so loose-lipped.”
“Thank God, too. I’m saying all the things I want to say so I’m thankful for it.”
“Well….” You turn your body towards him, lifting yourself on you elbow, “What else do you want to say?”
“You’re very pretty. And I want to kiss you.” Taehyung mirrors his body to yours. He looks confident as usual but you see the nerves in his eyes. “I’m not kissing anyone else at the moment, if you’re worried about that.”
“I wasn’t.” You weren’t.
Taehyung has never been known for being a player, or messing with more than one girl at a time. If he’s showing interest in you then you know you’re the only one.
“I’ve been single for like 8 months already.” He tells you, “So I’m clean, too.”
“I…yeah, it’s been a little while for me too.” You glance towards the open door, “But also, you sound real hopeful this is going to go in your favor.”
“Please.” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I know the way you’ve been looking at me all night. Catching up has been nice but there’s more going on here, right?”
He’s right.
“No.”
“Now you’re the liar,” Taehyung smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But like I said, we don’t have to do anything. But I still want to see you again.”
You’re both sat up on your elbows, the distance small between you before you decide to be brave.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask.
Taehyung blinks at you for a moment, his dark eyes surprised.
“Just a kiss.” You assure him, your lips curling into a smirk. “One kiss.”
Taehyung holds his breath, seconds that feel like minutes pass. A small laugh finally leaves his mouth and his eyes fall to the bed. “Why am I suddenly nervous?” He admits. “As if I forgot how to kiss.”
“You were so confident earlier?” You tease him but you were positive you saw the nerves in his eyes and you were right.
“I think the vodka sodas helped and they’ve worn off at this exact moment.”
“How convenient.”
“It really is, isn’t it?”
You stare at Taehyung, his eyes going from yours to the mattress every few seconds before the strap of your tank top slides off your shoulder and his eyes glue to that extra inch of skin. It was a hot summer night, and a white tank top with some shorts is all the night called for.
You didn’t think you would run into Taehyung at a bar neither of you have been to. A night out with a couple of friends that happily ditched you to catch up with your ex.
“Why did we break up for real, y/n?” Taehyung’s eyes are back on yours. “I know but sometimes I doubt and question it.”
“Still?”
“You expect me not to?” He laughs a little but his voice is now the one that sounds uncontrollably insecure. “I was in love with you for so many years of my life. You were my best friend…”
You feel a sharp poke in your heart.
“I know.” You decide to sit up, your body slumping over a little. “I’m sorry.”
And you are. You’ve wanted to apologize for years.
“I know you’ve been sorry since the day we broke up.” Taehyung sits up too, his side pushed up against yours. Suddenly space isn’t necessary. “Don’t feel bad. I just want to hear you confirm your reason.”
You glance at Taehyung, eyes studying him. “I got scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“That I didn’t know myself yet. That it would have been better if we were older…more mature. I should have just talked to you. But I thought you’d agree. I just…” You stop, ripping your eyes away from him. “Wanted to make it easier for both of us at that time.”
“Okay.” Taehyung nods to himself. “It wasn’t because you stopped loving me?”
“No.” You don’t find the courage to look at him yet. “I still loved you.”
Taehyung bumps into your shoulder with his and you hear the lightness in his voice again. “We’re older? More mature? You think we could look at one another the way we did before?”
You straighten your back again. “You really want to try this again?”
“I really want to kiss you at the least.” He sounds teasing once more. “But yeah, I’d love to continue getting to know you and see where this might lead.”
“I offered to kiss you already but you chickened out.” You bump into his shoulder now.
“I know.” He laughs, “But turns out I did want to have the conversation now. Kind of want to kiss you even more now because of it.”
“Then kiss me now, if you want.”
You’re older now. More mature now.
Yet you’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, towel still folded in your lap, eyes on the floor and nerves surrounding you both.
Taehyung’s breath leaves his mouth in a warm puff and you feel it glide over your bare thighs. His nerves make you brave. You grasp the towel in your hands before placing it next to you and you turn your head towards the man you used to love.
He mirrors you, eyes still unsure.
“You’re cute.” You murmur. “And—”
Taehyung leans in closer, his eyes stuck on your lips. “It’s okay, right?”
You nod.
The warm breath you felt on your thighs now lingers over your lips. It makes you stop breathing.
He comes closer, his hand softly landing on your lower back, fingers slowly digging into your tank top as he grows closer and finally, you feel the skin of his lips touch yours in a kiss that becomes firmer the longer he stays. His kiss is so familiar that it will haunt you later.
Taehyung detaches for only a moment, catching his breath before he leans in again more confidently and you finally give him a response. Your lips slowly moving over his as you kiss him back, your hands sliding up his chest. So familiar. His tongue pokes out and you open your mouth just the slightest to grant his wish. You taste him now, and it’s also hauntingly familiar.
You feel your lower belly swirling and swirling, a tension growing between your legs and it makes you ache. You wish a few kisses didn’t make you this desperate already but when Taehyung feels your fingers slide up into his hair, he knows you desire more.
His tongue explores more freely and you moan into his mouth, the sound quiet and soft but it creates a stirring in Taehyung’s pants. He can feel himself grow harder. So, he kisses you harder.
You break away for a moment, lips wet and tingly. “You have a condom?”
“Already?” He asks, breathless. “Let me at least eat you out first.”
“I haven’t showered yet.” Your eyes slide to the side, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“I don’t care.”
“I care.”
His hands go to your shorts, fingers fiddling with the button. “Fingers?”
You think about it for a second, thighs squeezing together at the idea. “Okay.”
And his fingers are quick to undo the button on your shorts, and he pulls down the zipper. You quickly wiggle out of them, kicking them off of you, while they land somewhere on the floor.
“Cute underwear.” He tickles the skin above the band with his fingers, before they slide lower and you gasp. He begins rubbing them over where you ache. Your panties grow damper and damper, making it easy for him to move your underwear to the side, and his fingers dive into your wetness.
“Ah, Taehyung…” You become tense. Teeth digging into your bottom lip. “I—”
His fingers swirl over your clit, making you sigh out in content. They play here before he uses his middle finger to dive where you really want him. Finger massaging your entrance, before he adds another. Entering you, making you immediately relax once the moment you’ve been anticipating is over. He works to stretch you out, his eyes focused on yours, his tongue wetting his lips as he watches how you start to fall into a daze.
His fingers feel so good. They’re long and reaching the right places. He curls them, making you whine, head falling to his shoulder and he chuckles.
“Feel good?” He whispers, fingers working harder and all you hear is how they fuck into you.
You nod against his shoulder, a breathy laugh leaving your lips.
“I want you…” You admit, “Now.”
His fingers stop moving, his head suddenly nodding quickly and he slides them out. “Yeah.”
Taehyung brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them proudly and you don’t have it in you to tell him to stop. He wanted your familiar flavor. So, it can haunt him later too.
You stand, eyes on him as you take your tank top off. He stands too, helping you take off your bra and his eyes are glued to your chest, clouding over with lust. You reach for the bottom of his shirt and he helps you take it off his body. Shorts and boxers are next. You stare at his cock, the head of it throbbing and you feel your mouth water. Another time, you tell yourself.
You finally slip off your underwear and you stand here, gazing at one another and you both become dizzy.
“You’re so beautiful.” He tells you, hands reaching for your hips and he guides you to the bed again, laying you down. “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”
“Me too.” You tell him, breathless and heated.
Taehyung crawls over your body and you feel how he moves his cock to enter you, moving slowly until he’s snug between your legs. You both sigh. Your walls tightening around him. He feels so good. And so familiar. He pushes himself further into you, your legs wrapping around his waist until you gasp to yourself, eyes shutting in contentment.
“You feel…” You can’t finish your sentence.
“Yeah.” He agrees, sliding out of you before thrusting back in. He repeats this motion a few, slow times. Letting his cock get soaked and pulled into your sweet core. He can’t remember the last time he felt this entranced. Maybe it was with you.
He starts fucking into you, the repeated motions are smooth and calculated. He’s trying his best to fuck you at the angle that is going to make you whimper. And he finally finds it. He moans into your neck, his hot breath making your skin moist. He starts kissing your throat.
You feel yourself growing tighter and tighter the more he firmly pushes in. You’re going to cum.
Taehyung starts thrusting faster, his kisses growing sloppy and he forces himself to slow down, his body trembling above yours. Oh, he’s really close.
“You’re so pretty…” He moans, his thrusts getting harder. “I fucking missed you, your pussy…everything.”
“Taehyung…” You wrap your arms around him, nails clawing at his back. “Fuck, just like that…I’ll cum.”
“Yeah. I know.” He smirks against your neck before he lifts his head and locks eyes with you. “Let’s cum together, y/n. Fuck,” His pace grows faster and you feel your insides crumble. He feels too good.
“I’m gonna—” You choke on air when he thrusts particularly hard, pushing into you so deep it makes your stomach tighten. He fucks you so deep you wonder how you could go without this any longer.
“y/n.” He chants your name, head falling into your neck again, whining against your skin and that’s all it takes for the band inside you to snap. You feel warmth gushing around his cock, dribbling out of you as you cum all around him and his hips thrust forward a few more times before he releases every drop of cum he can offer inside you.
Your body becomes limp, legs falling from his waist as you catch your breath, silently laughing as the euphoria continues to overtake you. Taehyung laughs too, breathing heavily above you, his eyes shining with happiness. You can’t miss it.
“We forgot the condom.” He tells you.
“I know.” You bite your lip, hiding another smile. You aren’t worried since you’re on birth control. “Maybe you can shower with me?”
He leans down to kiss you, smile all over his face. “Okay, and then I’m eating you out.”
#bts#bts smut#Kim taehyung#taehyung fluff#taehyung smut#bts fics#taehyung fic#Drabble requests#taehyung x reader#taehyung drabble#bts drabble
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𝐓𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 | getō suguru
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rigger! Geto x fem/afab! reader - shibari; rope bondage (boxtie, breast, crotch, elbow) - blindfolded - gagged (handkerchief) - fingering (f! receiving) - pleasure denial - oral (m! receiving) - pet names (angel, baby, little/pretty bird, sweetie, ) - mention of drool/saliva and tears.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: c'mon now, y'all KNOW geto would be into rope play. matter of fact, it's canon cuz I'm part of gege's assistant team, lol. also, tysm for 2.5k, y'all are too kind ♡
inspired by a talk b/w me and @ramonathinks (ily hon!!)
"Thank you so much for the help, Geto."
"No problem, now be good and always behave from now on."
"Oh, I will!" The spiky raven-haired offers a warm smile to the woman as two men usher her out of his room, the three dark figures seen from the sliding door disappearing with footsteps heading to the corner of the hallway. Geto then gets up from the tatami flooring and stretches.
He then stands and looks at the door for three seconds. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
After a full minute, his purple eyes peer at the sliding door to his right, taking light steps when approaching the room next door. Geto hovers an ear next to the door, trying to hear something from the other side if it contrasts with the silence of the room he’s currently in. He gives it a few more seconds before sighing through his nostrils, a sly smile creeping up. Geto brings a hand to the handle, finally sliding it to the right and revealing what was inside.
And to his mischievous glee, his smile grows from ear to ear. Because it wasn’t a what that had him chuckling to himself — it was a who.
And who laid on the tatami floor before him was you. You were nude, your body covered in red rope, your mouth gagged by a red handkerchief, and your eyes covered in a black blindfold.
There, you lay on your side on the floor. The red rope around your body restrains your arms and hands behind your back in a boxtie position, and your bare chest prompts up for exposure. The cord separates your breasts to each side, leaving a unique and alluring design that crosses throughout your abdomen and down south. No undergarments in sight; therefore, your chasm was out in the room’s air, the red cable slithering down between your folds, leaving a wet residue on the strict texture.
And, good Lord. The whimpers you use to comfort yourself in this situation. All naked and isolated to the confines of this dark room, away from light and hospitality. Your meek voice is the only thing that holds familiarity to you. That is until you hear Geto close the door behind himself, the sounds of his light footsteps dancing around the room.
“Well, hello there, little bird.” The warm tone in his voice sent shivers down your spine, for you could hear the words parade condescendingly. Geto walks around the room, lighting up the candles. The smell of smoke and the rosy scent enter your nostrils. “Sorry for leaving you in the dark like this. Were you lonely?”
He can only hear the mumbles confined from the handkerchief, which he can only assume was confirmation. “I apologize, baby. I had to leave our little session to tend to some business with some monkeys.” He said the last word with such slight vexation; you were bright to listen hard enough to catch it. Geto comes to you and sits next to your restricted body. “But now, you have my full attention, sweetie.”
Cold, slender fingers touch your cheek, causing you to jerk at the sensation. It makes him snicker. “You know why I have you like this, yeah?” His palm cups your cheek, thumb swiping off drool at the corner of your mouth. “I saw you, my pretty bird, in the garden yesterday. You looked so beautiful and pure with the world — my world.” They snake down to your neck and brush your collarbone. His fingertips now become warm from the friction of your enchanting skin. “Then, I saw some parasite — a man worth for sore eyes — come and talk to you. He even had the gall to touch your hands with his filthy palms.” The hand now comes to your breast, a small gasp when they brush your nipples. “And you, such an amiable and accepting person, let him touch you like that. Unbeknownst to my vision.” Those same digits tweeze the bud or your mound, resulting in a sharp pant covered by the cloth in your mouth. “Who? Who told you to let that happen? Hmm?”
Of course, he doesn’t wait for your response; what response? Your muffled moans and puffs of air? How silly. Geto brings his mouth to your other nipple, taking it in and sucking on it. The lapping motions of his tongue and the grazes of his teeth distract you from his hand snaking down with the red rope to your cunt. His digits now intrude on your southern lips, playing with your wetness in a teasing manner. And when you feel his forefinger about to enter your slit, you can’t help but sway your hips to invite him in. And it’s detected by the raven-haired man.
“Oh? You want me to put them inside, baby?” He already knows the answer; it’s no surprise when you nod helplessly. However, he clicks his tongue. “I don’t know, angel. Or should I even call you that anymore — how can an angel of mine be stained by the stench of such a foul monkey, huh.” His fingers move away from your cunt, now toying with the flesh of your inner thigh. Oh, the way your brows trench and how you whine for him. It always awakens something in him — something carnal. And how can he subject himself to the cries of his little bird? “Alright, alright. But if you really want me so badly, prove it to me. You can do that, right?”
Geto removes his hand and mouth from your body, your chasm and nipples feeling outcasted from his warm touch. You jolt when the handkerchief in your mouth loosens and soon meets the tatami floor. Yet, your vision is still shielded by the black cloth. “Su–Suguru,” you chant his name in trembles. “Please forgive me, I—“
“I will forgive you,” the sound of clothing rustling fills the space, indicating that he’s now removing his monk attire. The black yukata comes undone, revealing his upper body while he pulls his pants down to his thighs. Something touches the plump of your lips, the tip seeking entry to your oral cavity. “Just suck me off like you always do, and all will be forgiven. You’re still my angel, right?” And with that, you accept the head of his cock with patient yearning, hallowing your cheeks while your tongue welcomes the underside of his limb. And it takes everything in Geto’s power not to rut your face with relentless vigor. He wants to take this slow first. He needs to see if you deserve his kindness. “Mmmm, good. Just like that…”
A few bobs to the base of his length is enough to put you in a trance, especially with the blindfold hindering your sense of vision, forcing you to rely on others. His smell is so intoxicating, the taste of his precum overcoming your tastebuds and the slap of his balls on your chin. Unhurried thrusts slowly but surely dial up to speed by the seconds. Your euphoric hums become frequent as his dick hits the back of your throat, every inch of him sinking deep into your mouth and throat that strains of saliva streak down to the dent of your chin. Your toes curl when he grinds his pelvis down to your lips, nose pressed to the pubes that fill your nostrils with his raw scent. Good God, it feels so good, the throbbing sensation in your chasm between your legs flourishing within.
And it goes the same for Geto, too. Both his hands find purchase on your head, keeping you in position for him to rut your face. Your tight throat grips him so nicely, the gummy walls holding onto him so deliciously that he can’t fight the wanton need anymore. Erratic hits to your face become apparent, making your mouth soaped with saliva that drips down to the room flooring. And you take the jabs to the back of your throat with ease, mewling on his cock with pleasure while being used like a toy as the head of his shaft bullies your insides.
He pulls his head back, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his body jerks to the electric shocks climbing up. He’s close/ So, so close. “…Haaahh—Mmmph!! Damn, you feel so good for me…I’m cumming, angel. Gonna—Ahhhh! Christ…Hmmph!!” With gritted teeth, Geto drills his dick deep within your throat, the warm fluid excreting out his glans greeting its velvety walls. Blissful hums from you vibrate your throat, sending shivers to Geto while he experiences his crescendo.
When he’s finally done with his high and his load is inside you, he gradually removes his length from you. The tip of his cock resting on your tongue, which licks off any excess come. He then moves to free your shut eyelids from the black blindfold, your eyes fluttering at the scene of the warmly dimmed room, and Geto is now inches away from your face. Your watery eyes sparkle from the candlelight, and tears strike down and slide down your breast until the red rope captures it. “Forgive me, Suguru. I will always be yours. Only yours…”
He gives you a playful sneer, using a finger to wipe a tear from your cheek. He'd be a fool if he let you off the hook, especially now when you look at him as if he's your entire world. That's all he wants from the person he loves more than anything.
“You’re forgiven. And now, my pretty bird,” you can see the slight devious glint that harbors in his dark, violet eyes.
“I shall reward you.”
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – transparent edit made by me + dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#geto suguru imagines#geto suguru x you#getou suguru x you#getou suguru x reader#getou suguru smut#suguru geto x reader#geto x reader#geto x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk imagines
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Helloooo!! Can I request mako and bolín (seperate) being protective of their (s/o), thank you a lot<33
Ofc u can!
A/n: mako and Bolin have the most requests so far,I'm really glad tbh that people are submitting requests,keep em coming.i also added in Korra and Kuvira ,since this seems like a perfect imagine for them.
Genre: Fluff
Mako x reader, Bolin x reader, Kuvira x reader,Korra x reader (all separate)
Overprotective Lovers
Warnings: none.
Starting off with Mako,he's the kind of guy that doesn't take well to someone talking to you in some kind of mean way in front of him, especially if you're more a more naive person.
Even if you take care of yourself, he's still there making sure you're away from harms way.
If you ever get hurt or kidnapped,it's over for whoever did it, it's not like he's usually a calm person,but take away his favorite person and you got yourself a big problem to deal with.
Even when you're not exactly in danger, he's there. It's sweet really,but it can also be annoying when overdone.
You like being protected by him,but not all the time, he didn't like it when you talked to Korra, claiming since she's the avatar she would draw unnecessary attention over you and put you in complicated situations.
Of course you explain to him that you're a big girl and that you can watch over yourself,but he just can't understand it. {Sigh}.
Korra? Well she had her ups and downs. But she learned ,ok? Once you two got together ,this feeling that's she allways had grew stronger,her urge to protect you.
Of course she would blame it on the fact that she's the avatar,but really it was her being protective of you.
Even before dating her ,you knew this would draw a lot of attention to yourself, and potential enemies of the avatar would want to harm you. But that didn't stop you,after all you're free to love whoever you want even if it endangers you.
When Korra faced Amon she used to be Terrified something bad would happen to you, even her dreams would be hunted by dark images. She would see Amon preparing to take away your bending,but each time she would wake up before anything happened,in cold sweat,with you by her side.
If you're a light sleeper,you would assure her nothing happened to you,and that you're okay.
Even after she defeated Amon, more villains appeared,making Korra constantly worry about you. But one thing is sure, that she would always be there to protect you,and in case anything happens,to save you.
This boy is the most carefree of them all. He doesn't really have to worry that you would be kidnapped or hurt most of the time,but if it ever happens, either someone hurt you or something went wrong in the mission?
He's full boyfriend mode on. He wouldn't be like Korra or Mako, first thing he would do is bring you to safety, revenge not being his thing.
If you're okay ,that's what matters to him. But now if you're especially targeted by someone? He's not as chill as before. Especially since he recently learned how to lava bend, which makes him a pretty strong bender, definitely not the kind you would want to piss off by chasing around his girlfriend,nu uh.
Bolin knew it was a mistake to introduce you to his boss, Varrick.
That man would make flirty jokes with you,which always made Bolin roll his eyes and mock him quietly.
So what if he's smart and rich? You wouldn't like a prick like him.
Whenever Varrick got too close, your boy would be there to put distance between the two of you. It's not that he's jealous,but he knows how his boss is.
Yeah no. I doubt anyone would even try to threaten you while she's around.
After all the power and respect she gained, expect people to fear you just because you're with her. So mostly Kuvira doesn't have to worry that anyone is gonna try anything.
After all she made quite a name for herself.
Even so, being The Great Uniter's s/o came with it's disadvantages.
For example,if someone really wanted to hurt her,they would target you. You're her soft spot,and she knows it.
Yes,you have your personal guards picked by Kuvira herself. Just because she doesn't expect you to be attacked it doesn't mean she won't be prepared for it.
You're hers,and the world knows it.
.
.
A/n : I really enjoyed writing this,I might make another part with different characters :)
#korra#mako#bolin#kuvira#korra x reader#mako x reader#bolin x reader#kuvira x reader#korra tlok#mako tlok#bolin tlok#kuvira tlok#tlok#the legend of korra#tlok x reader#reader#fem reader#x reader#korra x fem reader#bolin x fem reader#mako x fem reader#kuvira x female reader#female reader#fluff#overprotective#character x reader
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give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca
pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader
word count: 4.7k
warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀
notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think!
✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted of my latest fics! ✨
03:49 PM
Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.
Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.
And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.
So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.
Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…
Fine enough.
But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”
You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”
Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”
“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.
There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.
“Hey.”
If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.
Still.
You can’t help that you miss him.
“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.
He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.
“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”
“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”
“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”
“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.
You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.
Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.
Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.
“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”
“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.
“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”
He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”
You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.
“How’s Alfie doing in school?”
“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.
“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”
You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.
“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”
“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.
He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”
“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.
A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.
You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.
The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.
Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.
The same vulnerable look.
“Hey, bub.”
“Hi.”
“Can I get a hug?”
There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.
“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”
“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.
“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin.
Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”
Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”
“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.
“Why?”
“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.
The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.
But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine.
And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.
“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”
“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.
“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.
Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”
“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.
“It’s your dad’s time—”
“No!”
“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight.
But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.
So much for quality time with his son.
Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”
“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“
“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”
It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.
“Alright, fine.”
“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”
You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”
Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.
“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”
Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”
Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.
“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”
“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”
He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either.
“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.
God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall.
Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”
“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”
Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father.
“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”
Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”
“What, are you trying to kick me out?”
“No, I just—”
Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”
He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”
You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…
Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together.
With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.
***
05:04 PM
By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.
“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”
Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.
Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.
“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”
The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”
“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.
Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”
“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”
His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”
“Why? You don’t miss home?”
There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.
He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma.
Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up.
Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”
“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.
“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”
Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”
The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”
“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head.
You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.
“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.
“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?
He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”
“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.
You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms.
“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.
“Can I watch Bluey now?”
You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”
Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”
“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”
Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.
Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Your meeting went okay?”
“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”
“Yeah…”
You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”
Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…
“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.
You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”
“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”
You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”
“Don’t forget your crayons!”
Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”
“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”
The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”
There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household.
“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.
You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”
“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”
Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”
“Er, kind of.”
“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.
Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”
“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”
“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?
“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.
He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”
“You never taught me how to do it, though.”
“Yes, I have.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”
You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”
He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”
For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.
And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?
“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”
You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.
“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”
You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating.
“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.
“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”
“What’s a burr, sir?”
Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“
Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…
In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…
“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”
Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.
“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?”
“That’s basically it, yeah.”
The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.
“Listen, I—”
“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.
It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.
***
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"You hold it against Damian, who sat across from me, helpless, as it happened. You hold it against Richard, who was not himself to help you fight Bane. You hold it against Selina for make you feel it was not safe to come home for a moment longer."
This conversation still hits like a truck, because this is Bruce's vision of Alfred when he's been drugged and trying to get his act together, this is Bruce acknowledging the things he's buried in his heart and hasn't let go of yet and it strikes me so hard that these are the people who were most involved in the story around Alfred's death--and then Dick, too. Who wasn't involved at all. Yet is still brought up as one of the jagged pieces of glass still lodged in Bruce's heart.
It's so striking that Alfred-as-Bruce's-mouthpiece says that he holds it against Dick for not being there, because isn't that exactly the issue? That Bruce holds onto Dick as the one he always, always counts on for support. That, even when Dick is an amnesiac who doesn't remember anything of his life, some part of Bruce is still relying on him to be there. He's not involved in this at all, but Bruce still makes him part of this, in a way that doesn't apply to Jason or Tim or Cass or Babs or Cass or Duke.
That it doesn't matter where Dick is or where he goes or how little he's involved, when it comes to these deeply personal things, like the death of one of his family, Bruce cannot let him go. Dick is the one who knows him the deepest, who Bruce relies on to be a constant rock in the raging torrents of their life, who Bruce needs in a way that I think only Alfred ever really matched.
So much of that was from those early years, when it was just Bruce, Dick, and Alfred, they forged each other, they laid each others' foundations in this life. Yeah, Bruce was doing this for awhile before Dick came along, but it wasn't until that hurricane child barged into his life that Bruce really became who he is now, that he found any kind of balance in this life at all.
And Bruce has never let go of that, he struggles to accept that Dick is an adult in a separate city and with his own priorities now, but some part of him will always have the deepest rockbed of: Alfred and Dick were the ones who knew him the clearest and who would always pull him out of the dark. Others will find their way into the twisting paths of Bruce's heart, Damian and Selina are part of this, he has equally thorn-filled dynamics with Tim and Jason, but, oh, Dick and Alfred. Those two are the ones Bruce used to build himself upon their framework. They will always be at the core of him, even when they're no longer physically there.
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Trailer park Steve AU part 34
part 1 | part 33 | ao3
Steve ducks his head against the flurries falling outside The Hideout as he makes his way for the entrance and tries really, really hard to not to feel totally out of place.
He agreed to meet Robin and her friends here separately because he was coming straight from a shift, but he’s kind of regretting that now. The only black thing he had in his wardrobe that was at all weather appropriate was a tight-fitting black knit pullover with a high collar and a silver zipper down the front, and he feels like some dorky, supportive golf dad coming to cheer on his rebellious son after a long day out on the green. The light wash jeans and silver wristwatch aren’t really helping matters.
Jesus. He should have let Robin dress him.
The guy at the ticket counter seems to agree because he gives Steve a weird look when he approaches and asks, “Are you lost?”
“Uh, no.” And if it comes out slightly more bitchy than he intended, well—
“Five dollars,” the guy scowls.
Strike that. Maybe it didn’t come out nearly bitchy enough. “The flyer says it’s two.”
The guy eyes him up with a tight, sarcastic smile and pops his chewing gum. “For you it’s five.”
Oh, my god. Operation Woo Your Man might be dead before it starts, because Steve’s about to smash the ticket booth window and pummel this fucking guy.
“I already got yours!” Robin calls brightly, jogging up behind him on the sidewalk and waving a lime green wristband. “He’s good,” she tells the guy, then tells Steve, “Eddie said to give you this.”
Ticket guy frowns, and Steve gloats as Robin fixes the bracelet to his wrist. Yeah, buddy, you heard that right; I'm with the band.
Robin drags him into the bar, and he stops her just inside the door, hugging her tight enough to lift her up on tiptoe, smacking a kiss to the side of her head. He jostles her around until something in her neck pops, and when he lets her go she groans, “Oh, my god, do that again.”
She spins around, crossing her arms over her chest. Steve grabs her by the elbows; shakes her like a piggy bank until her spine goes crack-crack-crack.
“Wow,” she sighs dreamily when he sets her down. “Marry me.”
“You can’t just marry me for my massage services.”
“I know; it’s tragic. Anyway, come on.” She takes his hand. “Everyone’s already at the table.”
“Who’s everyone?”
Robin doesn’t answer — probably can’t hear him over the loud rock music pouring through the speakers — but she weaves them through the venue, skirting the edge of the main floor.
Steve’s never actually been in here, but it’s pretty much what he expected: black walls, black floor, black leather jackets on the handful of regulars. The stage is off to their left, already set up with Eddie’s band’s gear by the looks of it, though he doesn’t see them anywhere. Must be backstage getting ready.
In front of the stage is a small, empty dance floor, flanked by rickety tables with mismatched chairs, and overhead there’s a balcony with a sound booth and more seats. To their right, the main bar: a long, ancient dark wood counter that’s been graffitied to absolute shit, covered in band stickers and beer labels and ‘so and so wuz here’s, and just up ahead, lining the far wall, Steve spots a row of wraparound booths.
Dark red leather, the stuffing spilling out through time-worn splits. Only one of them is occupied. Steve can’t make out much from this distance beyond the vague shape of the people sitting there, but considering it’s the only table with any chicks at it, he figures that’s their group.
Suddenly, Robin stops. Turns around to look at him; drops his hand and bites her lip. “Okay, so. Don’t get mad…”
Steve narrows his eyes. He knows that guilty grimace. Whatever it is, he’s definitely about to get mad about it, or at very least annoyed. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Robin.”
“Okay!” She steps to the side, and he marches toward the table to try and get a better view, Robin trailing after him, rambling, “For the record, I really didn’t do it, I swear! But, like— well, Beth is friends with Fred, and Fred is on the school paper, so I guess he just—”
The details shift into focus: tiny frame, rigid posture. Big, curly dark brown hair.
Oh, son of a bitch. No. No.
Nancy Wheeler’s here.
—
part 35
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Yeah, they won't leave my brain... 18+, MDNI
older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson
cont’d from here
So it turns out he's not the gardener.
He is, technically, in the sense that he's your nephew's best friend who mows the lawn and does other yard work during the summer in exchange for extra cash and pool access.
Fine. Whatever. Good to know.
Far more importantly—he's an asshole.
Because he easily could have told you who he was when you were running him off like a stray dog. And he does, eventually, admit to that and apologize…later, when he comes into the kitchen and you two exchange a few terse words, hissed under your breath so Steve won't overhear. Until you finally mellow into a civil, albeit begrudging, tolerance. He's just a kid, after all.
Except he doesn't seem like a kid, though, when you’re stretched up on your tip-toes trying to get down a mixing bowl. And before you’ve asked, or before you tell him not to bother, he's at your side. He slots into place behind you, his hips just shy of grinding into your ass as he brings the bowl down and holds it in front of you, his arms circling your body as he waits for you to take hold.
Of the bowl, that is.
A shiver actually runs up your spine you as you cup the bottom, hands resting under his, your thumbs grazing his pinkies, static buzzing. And when he steps away, you can see how his reach made the hem of his shirt ride up to reveal the deep cut of a v-muscle and a faint patch of hair that swirls just below his navel and trails down underneath the band of his boxers.
And your neck nearly snaps from the force with which you jerk your head up when you realize way too late that you're basically staring directly at his crotch. And you're so, so sure you're going to find him making that shit-eating grin of his when you look up. But you don't. Because he hasn't even noticed. Because he is (just as blatantly, if not moreso) looking down your shirt.
His eyes and yours meet on pure instinct, and you're closer to him than you've ever been before, trapped staring into his eyes that feel as dark and vast as space. As though they could swallow you up and you would just drift off in them forever.
No. No. Absolutely not.
You clear your throat and turn away, carrying the bowl to the stove. "Dinner in twenty," you tell him.
Flat. Passive. No emotion. Not so much as a waver in your voice to be up for misinterpretation. And he just stands there staring at you, studying your back, the imperceptible rise and fall of your shoulders. Searching, wondering...
Did you feel that too?
But you keep your head down. You keep your eyes glued to the salad you're making. You keep your breathing even, feeling like it’s performance art, until you hear the steady tink of the chain on his wallet with every step he takes out of the kitchen to relay your message to Steve.
Stupid, you call yourself. Stupid, silly, absurd—
There’s no end to the disparaging words that fill your head. Because you've done a lot of dumb things in your life (too many to even count) but there's no way you're adding this to that list.
It doesn't matter if he's twenty-four. It doesn’t matter if he’s the one who keeps showing up and smiling at you and looking at you like that. And it doesn’t matter if you’re separated and that your ring has been off for so long now there’s not even an impression of it on your skin anymore.
And aside from all that, this is all just a joke anyway. Isn’t it? Because why else would he be talking like to you like he did or smiling at you like he did if it wasn’t for a gag?
Except...suddenly, he's just hanging around the house all the time.
He starts showing up in the mornings asking for Steve, even though he knows Steve sleeps in until at least ten—eleven or noon if he had a date the night before. No problem, he smirks. I’ll wait.
And he breezes through the door, walking past you like he owns the place and parking himself at the kitchen table while you make your breakfast. And he just...stares at you. Until his staring turns to talk. It’s mostly innocent, occasionally toeing the line into impropriety. But you’re quick to correct the course if it does.
You talk about music because you’ve always got some playing. And that leads in to talk about his band, and him asking if you’ve ever been to the Hideout. Which makes you laugh, because you’ve probably been thrown out of the Hideout more times than he’s even been in it.
But he doesn’t need to know all that.
And he sleeps over an awful lot. Steve says it’s because his uncle works nights and Eddie would never admit this, but he gets lonely. Plus, they’ve got nothing but spare rooms, so who does it hurt?But that doesn’t explain why he feels the need to strut around the house in nothing but a pair of his sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips, or stand in the kitchen drinking milk from the carton with such fervor it dribbles down his tattooed chest.
And when you clear your throat behind him, your foot tapping on the tiled floor as your eyes burn a hole in the side of his face, he just lazily turns his head and offers it to you with a cheeky smile.
And it just keeps going on like that for weeks. You keep thinking he has to get bored soon, he has to be ready to move on, he has to be getting tired of acting like he's actually…
You can't even finish that thought.
It's one that’s too ludicrous to entertain, the idea someone like him would actually waste a moment of his summer on you. And yet…he’s still there.
He’s there in the mornings when you two have breakfast and listen to records. And he’s there in the afternoons when he mows the lawn or takes a dip in the pool, always winking at you and asking if you wanna cool off. And he’s there after dinner in the evening, sitting right next to you on the couch as you, he and Steve watch a movie.
And one time, he’s there in the middle of the night. When you can’t sleep and you slip outside to get some air only to find him sitting with his feet propped up on the patio table and a joint between his lips that he’s just lit.
And you do probably the last thing either of you expect when you pull out the chair next to him and hold our your fingers in a silent request.
He passes it to you, a ribbon of smoke curling in the air as it leaves his lips. You both puff on it a few times, listening to the crickets and the chh chh chh of neighboring sprinklers going off.
You talk the way you always do, the way that now feels almost natural. You ask him about Hawkins High, and lament about how little has changed when he tells you which teachers were still kicking around when he graduated.
“What were you like back then?” he asks you, sounding somehow like he really, truly wants to know. Like he cares.
"I was a lot like you, actually," you tell him with a wry and knowing smile as you bring the joint to your lips. "A little stubborn, a little headstrong...a little bit of a shit head."
Eddie chuckles darkly as he leans in.
He's close now. Close enough you can smell the pack of Camels in his pocket and the little spritz of cologne he’s wearing that dances in your nose. Close enough you can hear the wet sound his lips make as he pulls the bottom one behind his teeth before he answers you with a wicked grin.
“Trust me, sweetheart…there's nothing shitty about my head.”
The words make your breath catch. His eyes shine and even in the darkness there’s no way to mistake what he’s thinking about. You shake your head, trying to clear the fog that filled it. And you mutter to yourself as you stub out the joint and place it in the ashtray, avoiding his gaze.
“I should get to bed.”
You stand abruptly, unsteady on legs that shake. And you nearly stumble until Eddie jumps to his feet and catches you, cradling you against him. His nose touches yours, slippery with sweat from the balmy summer air. His breath hits your lips, hot and heavy as you pant into one another.
His eyes start to flutter closed…
“Eddie, you’ve got to stop,” you gasp, no longer in control of your heart rate. “I—we can’t do this.”
He blinks back at you, his doe eyes as big as the full moon overhead. And you half expect him to laugh in your face: Do what? you imagine him cackling. You think I really want some crypt-keeper who can’t even keep her marriage together? You think I would want you?
Except he doesn’t say anything of the sort. He just shakes his head, his face filled with concern, the tiniest little pinch in his brow appearing as he whispers, softer than the crickets.
“Why not?”
And there’s no answer you can give him.
All you can do is slip out of his arms, avoiding his gaze as you retreat, heading back to your room to try and sleep—practically impossible with his words spinning in your head and your skin burning everywhere he touched you.
For almost a week after, you don’t see him.
A few times, you catch sight of his van sitting in the driveway as Steve runs out the door, calling out to you that he’s headed to the lake or the movies or the mall. But that’s it.
Good, you tell yourself. This is what you wanted. This is the best way to stay out of trouble. This is how you should have handled it from the start.
When he does return, it’s only as moral support for Steve when he comes to ask you for a favor. Because it’s gonna be his birthday soon and he wants to throw a party. And he swears, swears, swears it won’t get out of control. So you think, avoiding Eddie’s gaze as much as he’s avoiding yours as he hovers beside his friend, his hands behind his back as he cranes his neck to look anywhere but at you. Finally, you nod.
“Everyone has a DD. No one underage. Nobody comes upstairs and if anyone vomits you two—”You motion at him and Eddie, “clean it up.”
Steve and you shake on it. Done and done.
The night of the party, you spend the evening upstairs as promised. Steve keeps his word and only a select group of friends are invited. Enough to make it a good turnout, but not so many that it’s a rager. They keep the music at a moderate level and the loudest thing you hear up in your room is Steve and his best friend Robin, who cheer every time they win a round of pong.
Still, you pass the time as best you can and your curiosity only gets the better of you once. Once, you stand at your window that overlooks the backyard. Once, you allow yourself to peek through the blinds and scan the party.
Once and only once, do you look for Eddie.
You find him at the fire pit, talking to a girl who’s sidled up next to him, pushing her perky tits in his face. She’s pretty in that way all girls his age are—with everything on them pointing up and nothing that sags. No bags under their eyes or extra flab on their arms. No silver slivers in their hair.
He seems distant as he talks to her, barely taking his eyes off the flames that flicker before him. She drapes a lithe arm across his shoulder and leans in close to whisper something in his ear.
Whatever it is she says, Eddie seems un-phased. Or maybe that’s just you trying to make yourself feel better with your gut twisted into knots. You flee from the window, mad at yourself for even looking, and bury yourself back in your book.
Then, no more than ten minutes later, a soft creak of footsteps on the stairs has you tossing it to the side and climbing out of bed.
"Upstairs is off limits—"
The hallway is dark except for the light that comes from your room as you crack open your bedroom door. The gash of amber casts directly across Eddie's face as he pauses and drops his hand that was already raised to knock.
"Hey," he says.
And you never knew three letters could sound so loaded. You pull your robe closed a little tighter.
"What's the matter? Is something wrong?"
His head bobs, all non-committal as he takes a careful step nearer. Missed you, he wants to say.
"Just...got bored,” he says instead. You snort.
"You didn't look all that bored to me."
That smirk creeps across his lips at that and you can practically see how his ego inflates, his chest puffing up with pride, eyes sparking with intrigue.
"You checking up on me?"
He asks and the smirk turns into a full-on grin, one that flashes his teeth, bared like an animal’s. Which one of you is the predator again?
"No," you bite back, the word sharp and barbed. Also a lie. "I was just making sure you guys aren't completely wrecking my sister's house."
"You sure?" he asks lowly, taking another step closer. "You don't wish you were down there with me? Keeping me in line?”
He leans against the wall, tilting his head towards you. You can smell the fire pit on him. It’s stronger and more potent than anything else. The beer on his breath. His cologne. The body spray of that girl who was hanging all over him.
"Positive," you say, forcing yourself to control your trembling and yet unable to stop the audible gulp that leaves your throat.
“Ohhh,” Eddie smiles. “So you just wanted me up here with you, then? Is that it?”
You wish it wasn't so easy for him to draw you in. You wish you had enough self-control to send him away. You wish you weren’t wondering what his lips taste like or what you’d actually do if he leaned in to kiss you right now…
And like he can read your mind, he’s moving in. His lips catch the corner of your mouth like he’s daring you to turn your chin the mere millimeters required to really kiss him. There’s stubble on his jaw, too short for you to see, but you can feel how it rasps against your cheek.
Your hand comes up and it lands in the center of his chest, but you're not stopping him or pushing him away. If anything, you're leaning on it as your body is swaying towards him.
"You shouldn't be up here," you groan softly, the words meant to remind yourself as much as him. "You should go back downstairs."
His hair rustles as he shakes his head. "No," he says firmly. "I don't give a shit about anybody downstairs. I wanna be right here."
The calloused pads of his fingers tug at the silk tie of your robe. He pulls it open and you let it hang, making no attempt to hide your sleep clothes.
He sinks to his knees right there in the hallway, his gaze never leaving yours as his mouth meets your breast. His lips surround your nipple, his wet tongue swirling and sliding over the stiffening bud until his spit has soaked through the thin material of your camisole. The very same one you had on the first day you saw him.
"Please," he says over and over, with his eyes rounded and his voice hushed, "Please, please, please." And your thoughts are just an echo of his words, almost begging with yourself the same way he’s begging with you.
Please give in. Please let him hold you...touch you...taste you. Please have him show you how you deserve to be pleased.
Fuck it.
His curls twisted in your grasp, you drag him to his feet and bring his lips to yours to feast on his mouth. Both of you moaning, pawing at the other as you stumble backwards, bringing him with you into the bedroom—finally taking what you want.
Because if you’re going to hell, it might as well be in first class.
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The Staring Contest // D.D.
Summary: Daryl tries to convince you to rest in bed with him, but when you refuse, he finds another way to try and convince you.
Warnings: suggestive content, 18+ | wc: 2.5k
Daryl was bent over his bike in the garage of your shared home, tightening a bolt on his bike for what seemed like the 10th time of the day. He hadn’t realized time passed as swiftly as it had, noticing the light from outside had dwindled down to darkness.
There were two things Daryl looked forward to when the day came to an end: relaxing for the night, and falling asleep next to you.
His fatigue from working throughout the hours only sparked one thought: where the hell were you?
All desire to finish tinkering on his bike washed from his muscles. Finding you in the home you two shared was the only thing he could think about now.
His tools clinked together as he shoved them away in a random drawer of the workbench he’d been using, before turning to leave the garage.
It was nighttime, which meant you wouldn’t have watch shifts or be caught up doing anything else around the community for the rest of the night. Daryl wondered what kept you away from him for so long, recalling the very moments you’d search for him endlessly on days you were apart for even more than an hour. He knew in his heart, no matter how long each of you spent separated, that you never stopped thought about him throughout the day. His earth-like scent, and the way your skin littered with goosebumps every time he was in the room was so familiar and safe.
I keep you in the front of my mind, always, you've told him before.
Daryl sauntered into the kitchen, immediately spotting you at the table, nose stuffed in a textbook. His steps were silent as always, which was normal for Daryl. On a day to day basis, he was able to enter a room silently and unnoticed, unless he made it known.
But somehow, you always knew when he was around.
“Hi, Dare,” you spoke, without looking back at him.
"Oh, hey, sunshine. What's gotcha down here this late?"
“Just trying to memorize what we need for the garden, so I can help Maggie tomorrow. Wanna know these by heart so I don't have to keep looking back in here. Ugh... this small text is giving me a headache already…”
You didn't have to turn around to know Daryl was right behind you. His voice drifted, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, sensing him step closer to you.
You gasped lightly at Daryl’s presence surrounding you, his warm breath brushing the back of your neck.
“My girl,” he whispered in your ear, “Smartest in the whole world. D'ya know that's so sexy t'me?”
A chill ran up your spine from his gravel tone of voice. It was intoxicating, almost enough to pull your thoughts away from the very interesting plant content.
“Daryl, you’re distracting me.” you chuckled, still staring down at the textbook in front of you.
“Mm.. why don’tcha drop that book an’ come t’bed with me.. It's late, babe.”
“Cause if I don’t know this information, our crops won’t do as well and-”
Your breath hitched as his hands had traveled up your back, massaging your shoulders, thumbs pressing into your stiff muscles.
“Yer tense..” he picked up the soft sigh you let out, and continued, “Like that?”
You sighed, “Yeah… takes the stress out of memorizing all these facts just a little bit.”
Daryl could feel the heat rushing over your skin in waves, realizing so obviously that he was the cause of it.
“I could help ya take out more’a that tension. Happen t’know a few ways, babe..” he pressed a kiss behind your ear, beard hairs tickling your skin.
“N-No.. no, I can’t. I’ve gotta be at Maggie’s early to help her and.." his hands continued, "Oh god that feels good, keep going..”
In your train of thought, you’d forgotten how firm Daryl’s hands were; how they could always bring you pleasure, no matter how he did it. The paired silence between you two continued for a few minutes with his hands and fingers firmly pressing into your back, until his southern drawl broke the silence, focus breaking once he realized your attention wasn’t pivoting from the book.
“Can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I’m gettin’ jealous of yer damn book right 'bout now.”
Finally looking up from the pages beneath your eyes, you chuckled. The obvious boyish smirk on your boyfriend’s face was evident as you turned your head.
“You’re telling me you're getting jealous over some plants? I hate to break it to you, but I’m not sure anything in this world gets to take your place.” You stated, almost turning back to the book for a second, before cupping his cheek to press a soft kiss to his lips.
“You gon’ lose sleep over this? Some silly plants?” He murmured, close enough for you to hear him.
“Hey!” you poked at his chest lightly, “Those silly plants are what’s gonna help Alexandria and Hilltop thrive. It’s not my fault I was blessed with a green thumb. Now, can you please go get some rest? For me?”
He shook his head lightly, scrunching his nose at the idea of not having your full attention. Daryl knew what you were doing for the community was important. He knew that.
But maybe in those end-of-day moments of alone time with you, was when he decided to be selfish.
His intimate time with you was one of his favorite times of day; lips pressed to some part of your body in absolute worship, even if there would be a mark the next morning. Perhaps in favor of a mark being there.
“Nah. Nothin’ better than watchin’ my girl be a genius. Even if I’ll be damn tired t’morrow.” The slight groan in his voice hints towards the fact that he’s probably, definitely been up for way too long hunting and running around Alexandria all day. Straining all those precious muscles of his.
“You’re cute when you're being stubborn. You need to get some rest, too. Can’t have those bags under your pretty eyes.”
“Oh, my eyes’re pretty, now? Saw you avoidin’ em when you kissed me b'fore. Tha’s how I know ya get distracted when ya look at me..”
Of course you got distracted looking at him. He was so perfectly Daryl with that mop of wavy brown hair, piercing eyes that shone as the sea does, and his rugged figure.
“Tell ya what, you win a starin’ contest with me, an’ I’ll go to bed so you can study. But if I win, you gotta drop the books an’ come to bed with me.”
It was then Daryl’s hands left your shoulders, thus your aches returned. He took a seat backwards on a chair across from where you sat you, while you glanced up at him.
“Now Daryl, you’re just being silly. What are we, teenagers?”
Being around you certainly made Daryl feel like a teenager, even in his aged life, which brought a smile to your face.
“If ya don’t wanna see my eyes, jus’ keep starin at that book, I guess.”
You scoffed under your breath, still staring at the book. Only his soft breathing could be heard from across the table. He could’ve sworn you were blushing, but your head was tilted downwards too much to be certain.
“Look at me, sunshine,” he drawled, while you sat too flustered to face him, “C’mon..”
Your eyes trailed up the leather on Daryl's figure, then the tips of his brown hair, the scar across his left cheek, meeting his blues softly. He’d registered the rose tint on the apples of your cheeks immediately afterward.
"Mhm.. So, staring contest?” he lowered his head, making sure you kept eye contact with him.
“I don’t get what the point of this is…” you replied pointedly, shaking your head, a bit amused with the whole thing.
“Point is… ya do this with me or else I’m gonna drag your butt upstairs to bed."
“What’re you gonna do if I refuse?”
You knew Daryl was absolutely capable of carrying you upstairs. There was no doubt about it, he was strong enough to lift you and it wouldn't take much effort on his part.
"When's the last time you weren't workin' yourself overtime for this place, huh? I think you're the one who deserves rest, sunshine." His arms crossed against his chest, muscles practically bulging from under the cloth of his shirt.
"So do you, Daryl. You're just too stubborn to admit it."
The archer sat in silence for a moment, knowing you were right, putting up a stubborn front.
"Fine. I'll participate in your little staring contest. What happens when I win, again?" You both know what'll happen, and Daryl scoffs.
Placing the book down in front of you, your arms rest on the table and he leans in a little further. His scent of pine surrounds your senses, faltering your gaze from him for a minute.
"This ain't gonna work if you don't look at me, sweetheart." It's like you can hear the shit eating grin on his face, and when you look up again, it seemed you were right.
"Let's get this on with, shall we? First one that blinks, loses." You tilt your head in the same fashion as his, lowering your voice a bit.
"Gladly. Ready whenever you are, sunshine." Daryl's drawl had gone from his normal volume to a gravel one. You can tell he tried to throw you off track with it, but nonetheless, the staring contest was on.
Your eyes met his, deep and dark in the lighting. How did everything about him compliment those damn irises of his? Just one glimpse of his gorgeous aura from across the table had you pulling away from your book for more.
"You're infuriating, you know that?" Your nose scrunches as the words come out in almost a whisper, delicate with the way you're letting your thoughts drift from just his eyes.
"Hun, you're not much better. Gorgeous, but stubborn as all hell. Think ya might be more stubborn than me." You hear the chuckle, and it takes almost all of your stamina not to steal a glance at his lips. If you did, there was no way you'd be able to contain your eyelids.
You know exactly what he's doing, playing on the way you melt at his every compliment. But you focus on his eyes and what you can see of him in your peripherals. His broad shoulders are scrunched, eyes studying your face.
"Are you trying to intimidate me? Cause it's not going to work.."
"Dunno, think I have a couple ways. You jus' keep on starin' at me."
You huffed a breath and continued looking into Daryl's eyes. He was intimidating enough that you had to find other things to think about rather than his. Because they were so... tantalizing. Electrifying. A simple glance of his would usually bring you, figuratively yet literally, to your knees. Ones that were met from across courtyards of Alexandria, or from the corner of a room during a community meeting. How you were able to hold off on crumbling under that same look now? You had no clue.
To your concern, you hadn't realized the falling of your mind into such deep thoughts about the archer. Your eyes focused back on the wisp of his eyelashes, before realizing his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. Giving his features a once-over, you peeked at the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
"Are you smirking?" Your arms folded across the table and inched closer to him.
"What else am I supposed t'do? You're too pretty. Happens when I look at’cha for a long time." His elbows propped up his chin in those rough palms of his, and began inching closer as well.
“Speak for yourself, handsome.” It was almost a whisper, but still the tones of your voice caught him off guard. Daryl’s eyes dropped from yours, swiftly to your lips and back up.
“Wish you’d just let me win so I could kiss ya right now.” His deft fingers tapped on the wooden table now, eyelids heavy with impatience and a sultry gaze being shot your way. You want him to lean towards you, within just the proximity to plant your lips on his, but he sits back in his chair instead.
You whisper, “You make me wanna go back to my books and leave you hanging on this damn contest.”
Daryl shrugs, “Ya blink, ya lose. Them���s the rules.”
“I’m not breaking.. do with that what you will, pretty boy.”
“Mhm..." Daryl chuckled to himself for a moment, then stood from his seat. Whatever composure you were trying to keep from showing while gazing at him only overwhelmed you as he rose from the table. No matter how hard he tried, Daryl came off as intimidating, especially when he stood over you, like he was doing right now.
"We're having a contest here.." you began, "Or does you leaving the table mean you forfeit?"
Daryl's fingers dragged along the table, slowly stepping towards you with the same intimidating glare.
"Nope." He stepped behind you, grabbing your chair with both hands to pull it out from the table.
"Daryl- what're you doing?" You giggled, letting the book of plants fall onto the floor, while you were dragged backwards by Daryl's strength.
"If you're not gonna let me win, I'm just gonna have to take you myself." let go of the chair, and immediately knelt down to grasp your body from your seat.
"Hey!" Daryl's large, warm hands grasped your body, while you wrapped your hands around him in surprise. Upon your hands grasping at him, he got a face full of your chest, which he didn't mind at all.
Grunting at your weight in his arms, you turned to him, spotting the faint blush on his cheeks at the view he was currently getting. You chuckled, getting flustered yourself, but still pressed against him. He began towards the stairs, with you easily grasped in his arms. It was during these rare moments that you realized just how strong Daryl was, how easily he could pick you up and carry you without breaking a sweat.
"This what you're gonna do every time you can't convince me?" Your arms wrapped around his neck now, watching his face while he walked. You pressed a few light kisses to his neck in response.
"Nah, I'll let ya win sometimes. But this, you're gonna wanna be there for." The smirk on his face created a warm feeling inside your chest, one you wanted to give him, too.
Daryl continued up the stairs, down the hall towards the bedroom you shared with him. Your arms wrapped around the nape of Daryl's neck, lips peppering kisses across the expanses of his chest. Once he'd walked to the bedroom door, he kicked it open and made his way towards the bed.
He softly placed you down on the edge of the mattress, waving you to lay back on the bed with his hand. Daryl kicked off his boots, undoing his belt before crawling towards you on the duvet.
In a moment he hovered over you, smirk lingering on his lips like liquor.
"Now, I dare ya, take your eyes off me. See what happens."
You were in for an especially long night.
A/N: Thanks for reading:) If you enjoyed this fic, please show support by reblogging!
#ryesff#devnmon writes#daryl dixon x reader#devnmonwrites#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x you#daryl x you#the walking dead fanfiction#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x y/n#twd fanfic#twd daryl dixon#twd fanfiction#the walking dead fic#the walking dead fanfic#daryl dixon fic#daryl dixon fanfic#all dividers from cafekitsune!
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Okay yeah this is going to be corny whatever. They deserve the corniness. Eddie calls Steve sweetheart and yeah, Steve loves every bit of it. But the first time Steve calls Eddie a petname, Eddie freezes and he tears up.
Steve has been calling him Eds since they became friends and Eddie loves it. Only Steve calls him that and it's a nickname for his nickname.
Eddie also knows that Steve wants to call him something. They once talked about it when they start dating. Eddie explaining to him why he calls Steve sweetheart. Steve said nothing was good enough for Eddie, baby or babe is sweet but it's just not Eddie. He wants it to be good because Eddie calls him sweetheart and means it.
The thing is Steve doesn't know this kind of love. He grew up alone, with parents who showed him that love was sleeping in two separate rooms and still going together out of town, with parents who forgot holidays and birthdays. He's only starting to learn what love is after Nancy, the real one, without bullshit, with the help of the kids, and Robin and Eddie.
Eddie's kind, has the kindest heart Steve's seen on anyone. He's been given the toughest shit from a young age with his family situation, struggling to be gay and being bullied. The whole Vecna debacle proves this, like what town goes after one guy without zero evidence? Despite all that Eddie is still kind. He forgives Steve, without a moment of hesitation, when Steve apologizes for all the shit he did in high school. He helps the old lady at the grocery store even if she lectures him about satanism. He helps swing the random kid on the swing even if their mom glares at him. He can't adopt random pets, but he has about 6 cats he has to feed everyday. Steve sees it everyday.
Eddie's gentle. Yeah, laugh it up. But he is, Steve says. He hides it well, Steve will give that to him. Eddie's gentle in his black shirt, ripped jeans, dark eyeliner, rings that could make your nose bleed and a tough exterior that could scare you away. But he is gentle. Gentle with the way he holds Steve when the nightmares catch up on him, the way he paints miniature figurines, the way he draws on El's tattoo with a marker, no matter how many times it has been, the way he wakes up Wayne, always with a cup of coffee. Steve sees it everyday.
Eddie's brave. He still doesn't believe Steve that he is, some days he believes it, but there are days that he still doesn't. Still regrets running away from Chrissy and not helping Fred. Steve reassures him that he is brave. He is brave in the way he loves so loudly and so openly. He is brave with the way he expresses his true self so freely without fear. He was brave, when he followed them to the Upside Down, was brave with Chrissy and Fred, was brave in his almost last moment. He is brave for continuing to fight every day. Steve sees it everyday.
Eddie's a lot of good things, and Steve can list it all in one sitting if he wants to.
Steve's watching the latest episode of Golden Girls when the timer beeps. Eddie's in the kitchen, sitting on the breakfast bar, writing like a maniac for the next campaign.
"Eds! Can you please get the cookies? I don't want to get up! The guy Rose slept with died on her bed!" He can hear Eddie laughing from the kitchen as he shouts an Okay.
Steve's immersed on the episode's story, just as Eddie comes waltzing into the room, gloved hand holding the tray full of cookies.
"Sweetheart, the cookies came out good!"
Steve nods, he doesn't even look at the tray, not wanting to miss a piece of this episode, "I know."
Eddie cackles, setting the tray at the coffee table, "Can I have one? Or is it only for annoying, invasive 16 year olds?"
Steve snickers, still not paying attention, "Of course you can have one, love."
Eddie freezes, just standing there, one hand reaching for a cookie, one hand still wearing the mittens. Steve immediately clocks this, is it Vecna again? That can't be they killed him.
"What? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Eddie nods, but something is wrong, Steve knows because Eddie's tearing up. He hits mute on the tv, focusing his full attention to Eddie. He'll just watch it on a rerun.
"What happened? You're scaring me, love." Eddie makes another chocked out sound, collapsing beside Steve as Steve scoops him into his arms.
"You... You called me love."
And yeah, Steve did. He didn't plan it, it wasn't even on the list of petnames when Steve was deliberating what to call Eddie. It just slipped out.
But it made so much sense. Love is... love is the warmth of a cup that says "worlds best uncle" full of coffee in the morning. It's the soft, worn out yellow sweater you wear on bad days. It's the beat you tap your hands to, a song that saved your lives. It's fresh baked cookies. It's in kind gestures, gentle hugs and brave actions.
Love is kind and gentle and brave. Love is who Eddie Munson is.
"Yeah... I guess I did."
Eddie smiles at him, tears still brimming in his eyes as they look at each other.
He looks soft. Maybe Steve will add that to the list of what love means for him. Soft.
"You still want that cookie, love?"
Eddie nods, "Please, sweetheart."
Steve sees it everyday. He sees love. He wakes up with it everyday, cooks with it, sleeps with it, reads with it.
Yeah, love really is the perfect petname for Eddie.
#edit: i removed the vhs part its too complicated for me lmao#THIS IS CORNY AS SHIT#BUT MAJ#I LOVE BEING CALLED LOVE#AND CALLING SOMEONE LOVE#AND I WANTED IT FOR STEDDIE#steddie rants#daeheadcanons#steddie#steddie headcanon#steve harrington x eddie munson#there is steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson fluff#steve harrington x eddie munson angst
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in which: rin feels obligated to buy you gifts on his birthday,
warnings: FLUFF, suggestive at some parts so 16+, reader's gender isn't specified but reader wears dresses, rin's pockets are LOADED, rin and reader are adults, i pray he is in character.
a/n: happy birthday to the man i've dedicated my heart to. no matter how far i stray from you, it seems like it will never forget the beat of your drum. there might be another rin fic coming soon because this one was whipped up so quickly, if term permits, there shall be two rin birfday fics coming out bc he is special 2 me.
“rin, what is all this?”
sitting atop rin’s coffee table are a variety of gifts, laden with designer names that come in all kinds of packaging- boxes, bags, you name it, they were there. slipping out of your sneakers whilst rin places down your slippers, you’re speechless as you eye the pile of products, deducing that everything on that table combined was probably worth more than you.
turning your attention back to him, you somehow manner to stutter out a ‘happy birthday’ before embracing him tightly. he returns the favour, hugging you closer into his cashmere turtleneck where his subtle cologne fills your senses. in rin’s arm is where you feel most loved, so you cling to his warmth.
“how was your day?” you ask.
“fine, i was just waiting for you to get here.”
“i’m so sorry, hope i didn’t keep you waiting.”
“no need to apologise,” he shrugs, “i don’t mind.”
stepping out of his embrace, you gesture to all of the designer items atop the table. “so, are those your birthday gifts or something? you got quite a lot of them.”
“uh no,” coughs the dark-haired as he bashfully looks away. “they’re for you.”
you look back at him like he’s grown three heads, eyes wide and mouth agape at his confession. “for- for me? me?”
“because i wanted to get something for you.”
“rin- no, i can’t possibly accept this, it’s your birthday! not mine!” you protest. “i’m supposed to get you something, not the other way around-”
the soccer player squeezes your hips gently as his eyes glisten with self doubt and insecurity; a sight you see often. you saw it on your first date with him, you see it in moments when he tells you he has to postpone a date, and you see it whenever his bedsheets pool around the two of you, hearts and bodies laid bare for the other. these are just few of the many moments you’d see it, but the dulling of his teal orbs as a slight frown pulls at his lips never fails to make your heart clench.
you're certain you know what he’s thinking, and this time he’s questioning whether or not what he’s gifted you is good enough. a preposterous thought for anyone that isn’t itoshi rin, because no matter what, there will always be strings of doubt pulling at his mind, fragile only at your mercy and ready to snap at any second to release a downpour.
so, you put aside your guilt and grab his hands with yours. “thank you, rin,” you tell him, sincerely and wholeheartedly, “i was just shocked, but it really means a lot that you thought of me.”
“yeah?” light returns to his eyes.
“of course. i love everything about you, always treating me so well.”
he scoffs quietly, taking the cake box and bag from your hands to hide the flush on his face, the excuse of putting your things away for you a mere coverup. after all this time together, it seems like your words still have a spell over him.
“take a seat on the couch, i’ll be back,” murmurs rin, disappearing into the kitchen. you abide by his command, tiptoeing around the coffee table with a suspicious glance before settling in the comfortable cushions. the athlete returns quickly, this time with two cups of water that he places down on separate tables that isn’t the coffee table.
instinctively, he grabs your legs and perches them atop his lap and you relax right into the way his thumb draws circles on your skin.
“do- do you expect me to open all of them now?” you ask, slightly hypnotised by- well, everything. the gifts, your boyfriend, his touch on your leg.
“you don’t need to. i realise that there’s a lot,” he says, before reaching over for a certain bag. you momentarily glance at the name, brushing it aside as one you recognise before opening it and delicately pulling out what you discover is a dress. unfolding it, you cannot hold back a gasp over how beautiful it is. it’s in your favourite colour and a design you know to be quite flattering on you, and you're awfully comforted by just how well he knows your tastes.
“it’s so pretty!” you hug it against you, the fabric heavenly soft against your skin. “rin, i love it. so much”
a small smile appears on his lips. “i’m glad. there’s more i want you to open, though.”
he picks out a few more boxes, he scanning the variety before choosing the specific one he wanted. the following gifts consist of shoes and jewellery, and you realise that rin’s practically given you a full outfit. “you should wear this to dinner later,” he suggests innocently, as if this wasn’t all planned.
although you’re weak to his wish, you continue to pick on him a little more. “you think so? it is quite nice, but i already brought a change of clothes. what a shame, i picked your favourite too.”
“y/n,” rin warns, voice lowering.
“i’m merely joking. anything for you, my love. would you like me to try it on?”
he nods eagerly and you laugh, bright and genuine before reaching forwards to seal a lingering kiss against his lips. you try not to melt into the way his fingers curl desperately around your waist, because from his unforgiving grip alone, you can already predict where the night is going. however, you faux ignorance before dancing away and leaving your boyfriend to sit in anticipation.
you don’t want to keep him waiting too long, though, lest he barge into the room himself and ruin his own gift.
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
#minors look away at the next tag#AND THEN THEY HAVE SE-#eighteen plus blog when... i'm jk i could never#this ain't that good i'm sorry i have no time to cook i'm a busy student ok#also yes reader gives rin a gift but i didn't feel assed to write it so#itoshi rin x reader#rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#itoshi x reader#itoshi rin fluff#blue lock fluff
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hear me out spicy enemies to lovers arc with the 07 nightwatcher 😩
The Nightwatcher and the Dark Angel (18+)
2007!Raphael x vigilante!reader
A/N: I hear you loud and clear😏 May this appease the Nightwatcher and his followers!❤️
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A vigilante, going under the name of the Dark Angel, finds herself in a new situation with her enemy, the vigilante the Nightwatcher. And oh boy, can they fight in more ways that the traditional.
All characters are aged up.
Warnings: Fighting, hand to hand combat, unprotected sex, rooftop sex, angry sex, fight over domination, doggy, hair pulling.
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One would think that two vigilantes would work well together. Help each other out with their common enemies of the streets, doing their part to create a safer world for those who could not protect themselves. Yeah, one would think so, but reality was nothing like that.
But the Nightwatcher and the Dark Angel could not stand each other. The Nightwatcher found himself built with anger whenever he saw the fully black dressed female with her bow and arrows, and the Dark Angel in turn would let out a frustrated sound whenever she heard his roaring motorcycle, or the sight of the headlight upon his helmet.
Their hatred for one another started back when they both happened to stumble upon the same back rubbery. But instead of working together, they found themselves annoyed at one another, not willing to let the other take the authority. And so it happened that the Nightwatcher’s ball chains got in the way of the Dark Angel’s arrows, resulting in the criminals getting away. And from then on, every interaction between them had been marked by that night. Bickering or straight up fighting whenever they saw each other, becoming more focused on the vigilante that threatened what they both saw as their work. Their duty to the city.
It got to the point where the two vigilanties would consider their nights ruined, if they as much as thought of the other. And thought they did. But in their vigilante attire, and outside of it. Much to the frustration of the Dark Angel, she found that Nightwatcher entered her head. Not only the Dark Angel had to suffer the Batman wannabe, but so had (Y/N) (L/N). You.
He found his way into your head, both while you were at work and while you tried to further your studies. It was frustrating to have that no good, annoying piece of shit stuck in your head. And yet he stayed there, taking up way too much space than what he was worth.
There had been times where you had thought about quitting the whole vigilante thing because of him. The dangers you were putting yourself in didn’t matter much to you, but the stress of the Nightwatcher was a whole other thing. You started to wonder if it was really worth it, when you no longer felt like you could separate your late night crime fighting from your normal everyday. But then you remembered why you started doing it in the first place. To combat the crime that had been rising all over New York in the past few months. And for the simple fact that you loved it. The thrill, the adrenaline and the rush you felt every night. You had pretty much become addicted, and you did not wish to stop. So therefore you continued your work as the Dark Angel each and every night, even if the Nightwatcher was becoming an aching thorn in your side.
It was a Wednesday night. Had it not been for the light pollution of the big city, you would have been able to see the stars in the cloud free sky. However the moon was fully visible, the round white shape casting a dim white glow down over the townhouses and high rises. You could hear cars and sirens in the distance, just like you could any other day in the city that never slept. The cold night air swept over the apartments and through the streets, and blew against your face. You could just feel it through your black skin tight bodysuit, as small goosebumps rising under your skin. You took in the scent of the air, letting it fill your lungs. The city you loved. The city you intended to protect.
As you stood atop the building, you suddenly heard it. The ringing of an alarm. You speed into action, running towards the sound. Jumping across roofs before you finally came upon the scene. Below you, on the street, a van stood by a jewelry store, the glass of the storefront broken, and five men rushing out, their hands filled with whatever they had been able to grab. They rushed to the van, laughing and smirking with one another, until a black arrow shot through the air, penetrating the back door of the van. The five men turned in shook and disdain, staring at you as you rushed down from the roof, landing in the middle of the street.
“Ow, not this bitch again”, one of them growled.
“Nice to see you again, Drew”, you said, resting your weight onto one of your legs, looking totally unbothered. “But after our last meeting, I had hoped you finally would find something better to do”.
“Guys”, the one called Drew said, cracking his knuckles. “I believe it’s time to show the Angel that we do not believe in any higher powers”.
“No, that much is obvious”, you mumbled, drawing another arrow from your back. You did not wish to kill anyone, but only hurt them a little. Just enough to hopefully scare them off the street. It had worked before with the rest of Drew’s gang, so why should it not with his new one.
But then, as you pulled on your bowstring, you heard the familiar noise of a motorcycle down the street behind you, and soon the street was lit up by the front light of the noise motorcycle, and the headlights of that obnoxious helmet. Dread fell upon you as the Nightwatcher jumped up the motorcycle, landing just beside you.
“Argh, not you again”, he grumbled at the sight of you. “And you too, Drew. Do you really not have anything better to do”.
“Leave”, you snarled at him. “Can’t you see I got this?”
“Got this? Well, that’s strange, because to me it looked like they were about to get away in a van, and you intended to shoot arrows at it?”
“That’s not what was happening!”, you exclaimed, lowering your arrow as you spoke. “I was about to get them away from the van!”
“I have eyes!”, he growled, gesturing towards his eyes with two fingers from his three fingered glove. You had always thought that had been an odd choice. “And I could see that was not what was happening!”
“You don’t know anything about that!”, you yelled back, turning fully in order to continue your argument, all while the five goons were watching in confusion.
“Boss?”, one of them whispered to Drew. “Should we go?”
“We should”, Drew said, watching you and the Nightwatcher as you continued to argue. “Get into the van before they notice anything”. And so they did. They threw the stolen goods into the van, smiling as they pulled your arrow out of the door, throwing it onto the street. And somehow, neither you or the Nightwatcher noticed it, until the motor of the van started.
You and the Nigthwatcher looked, just as Drew waved, closing the door before setting the van into motions.
“Oh no you don’t!”, you yelled, running after the vehicle, managing to jump onto the back, your feet on the edge of the back bumper, your hands clinging onto the handle of the back door. The Nightwatcher however ran to his motorcycle, setting it into motion in order to follow the van.
On the back of the van you grabbed at the handle, trying to get the door open. But then the door opened from the inside, one of Drew’s goons looking at you with a smug smile.
“Sorry, but we don’t allow Angels in the van”, he said, as if it was supposed to sound badass. It was then that he pushed you off the moving van, sending you tumbling on the road, before slamming the door closed.
The Nightwatcher that had followed behind you and the van swerved, trying not to run you over, but instead turning so hard he fell over. He hit the ground, groaning just like you, both hearing the van drive away.
—
“You always get in my way!”, you yelled as you got up on the roof, looking in the direction the van had droven.
“I get in your way?!”, the Nightwatcher yelled furiously, following you up the fire escape, his boots hitting hard against the roof. “Who was it that almost got run down by my motorcycle? Oh yeah, you!”
“And you were the one that didn’t even try to use the fucking breaks!”, you barked back, turning sharply towards him.
“Or, you could just not stand in the middle of the fucking road, Cupid”, he said, a finger from his three fingered glove poking you in the head with a hard push, sending your blood into a boil.
“Watch your finger, Robin!”, you snarled, slapping his hand away.
“What did you just call me?!”, he growled, his stands growing wider.
“You heard me, Batman wannabe!”
“That’s it!”, he yelled, pulling out his chain ball before throwing them to the side. “It’s time to settle this! You and me, right here! No weapons! Loser has to leave the other one alone!”
With anger burning inside of you, you agreed. However, you treated your bow and arrows with more care than he had shown his chains, placing them on the sideline, before standing in front of him, stance ready. “Come at me, hot head”.
It was as if that comment made something click inside the Nightwatcher’s head, making him throw a punch in your direction. You duck before standing to the side, giving him a hard push. He stumbled a little, turning to you with a growl, throwing another punch. You ducked once more, this time trying to get in a punch of your own. He caught your hand however, but did not expect the upper that hit his chin. It was harder than any of you had expected. So hard that he stumbled back as his helmet flew off. You gasped at your action, your knuckles slightly aching from the punch. You had been in small physical fights before with the Nightwatcher, but never had you managed to punch his helmet straight off of his head.
“Fuck!”, he exclaimed, his hands still on his face.
“What’s wrong?”, you asked, the shock of your punch subsiding. “Can’t handle a punch?”
Then, the Nightwatcher jumped on you, pinning you to the roof. You stared in shock at the face in front of you. You started at a green face and a pair of pretty brown eyes, all with a red bandana tied around the head. Yet somehow, you found the green face handsome.
“Now you’ve seen my face”, he growled, one hand grabbing a hold of your full face mask. “Let’s see who this Dark Angel is”.
That was when he pulled your mask off in a swift move, making you suck in a breath of anticipation. You expected him to say something. To continue your fight. But it didn’t happen. Silence fell over him, your mask still in his fisted hand. From his position above you, the Nightwatcher could do nothing but stare. This was not what he had expected. He had thought you would be hideous to look at. He wanted you to be hideous. After everything he had been through with you, he had thought your face to be repulsive. But to his dismay you were absolutely beautiful, the word Angel describing your appearance very well.
He almost felt angry at you for being so beautiful. It made it hard for him to hate you like he did just a few moments ago. It made it even harder for him to hit you, the fist with your mask still hanging in the air, clenching around nothing but the black fabric. Yet he felt the burning need to do something to you. You had been a pest to him, ever since he first met, and now you had punched him and seen his face. He had to do something. And he did. Just not what he had thought he would do.
The moment his lips hit yours, you froze. You had not expected that. But neither did you try to push away or tell him to stop. No, because you did not want him to do so. So instead you turned your head to the side, allowing him to deepen the kiss with you. A growl escaped him, his fist and your mask falling to the roof as his lips started to move against yours, your hands reaching up to hold his green head.
The kiss became heated quickly, with both of your tongues fighting for dominance, neither of you willing to let the other take over. And with that mindset, you quickly pushed him onto his back, straddling his legs before diving in for the continued fight of your tongues. From here you started working on the two buckles that lined his front.
“Someone’s eager”, he smirked into the kiss.
“To get you to shut up? Yes, very much”, you said, pulling him in for another kiss as you opened his last buckle. You were surprised to hear him hum into the kiss, his hands feeling your thighs through the fabric of your suite, letting you pull on the zipper that went from his collar and all the way down his torso. It was when you pulled back in slight surprise, feeling his chest where the zipper had allowed you to, only to feel his hard plastron, that he took the change. In a shift move he pushed you down onto your stomach, before letting himself rest on top of you, his mouth finding the curve of your ear.
“Then you have to be better than that, little Angel”, he smirked, before nibbling at your earlobe. You shivered, yet refusing to let out the whimper that pressed in your chest. You would not give him that satisfaction. “Now, where the fuck is that dumbass zipper?”, he growled, searching the top of your collar.
You could not help but chuckle. “Getting eager, Watcher?”
“To teach a little brat like you a lesson?”, he asked, a hand coming around to hold your chin. “You bet”.
His other hand finally found the opening of your zipper, pulling it down and showing off your bare back. You could hear the Nightwatcher cures under his breath as he went lower, all the way to the top of your ass.
“Holy shit, have you always been naked under that thing?!”, he asked in surprise. In fact, he was so surprised that he did not fight when you forced him onto his back once more, straddling him again. He watched in awe as your suite came loose, showing off the skin of your shoulder. You smiled smugly at him, feeling proud of the expression he gave you.
“So if I have?”, you asked, pulling further down on his zipper, almost reaching the bottom. “Can’t the Nightwatcher handle that?”
“And here I thought the whole Angel thing had something to do with being pure”, he said, licking his lips as the zipper reached his cloaca.
Unable to resist you leaned down to where his ear would have been, licking your lips before you spoke. “When have brats like me ever been pure?”
That caused him to move quickly once more, trying to force you back onto your stomach, but you resisted on your knees, not letting your stomach touch the roof. As you tried to stand, the Nightwatcher’s hand pressed down on the top of your back, forcing your chest against the roof. In this position your ass was up in the air with him pressing himself against you from behind. With his free hand, he pulled your open suite down your ass, revealing your soaked core to him. And that was when you felt something hard being pressed up against your cheek. He grabbed ahold of himself, slowly sliding himself up and down your slick folds.
“Admitting defeat yet, Angel?”, he asked, his voice dripping with smugness.
“(Y/N). And no, I’m not admitting to anything”, you said, fighting not to moan when his head brushed over your clit.
“In that case, (Y/N), I’ll just have to continue until you admit”, he chuckled, before pushing his swollen head through your drenched entrance.
You gasped out loud at his size, surprised at the pleasurable stretch he provided you. From the back you could hear him let out a satisfied groan, his hands resting on your hips for a moment as he got used to the tight fit. And then, finally, he started moving. You forced your mouth shut when you felt the moans that were about to fall off of your tongue, not wishing to inflate his already big ego. But the Nightwatcher noticed, chuckling once more.
“Oh, now you don’t wanna talk? Too bad, because I wanna hear you”, he said, before grasping a firm grasp on your hips, thrusting much harder and faster into you than before. Your mouth fell open, unwilling moans falling from your lips as you felt him reach further into you.
“Fuck!”, you moaned, slapping a hand against the roof in frustraion. “You, you, oh fuck!”
“Raphael”, he growled, his still gloved hand reaching around the back of your neck. “Call me, Raphael”.
You almost wanted to laugh at the irony. Here you were, the Dark Angel of New York City, getting dicked down on top of a roof top, by the Nightwatcher who just so happened to have the exact same name as an archangel. But instead of laughing, you moaned, feeling his hand move from the back of your neck and into your hair, where Raphael grabbed a fistfull, pulling your head back and in turn forcing your mouth open.
“Fuck!”, you almost screamed. “Raph!”
“That’s right, (Y/N). Scream my name. Let the city know who’s fucking you this good”, he said through a strained voice.
Once again you slapped your hand against the roof, frustration filling you as you moaned out his name once more. But even more frustration over the fact that you did not hate it. You should hate Raph. Even as his cock reached that good spot inside of you, you should hate him. But you just couldn’t. Whatever he was and the way he was fucking you had made your emotions for him soften quite a bit. But in that moment, you could not deny how you wanted him to moan your name the same way you had been moaning his. And it was with that thought in mind that you started moving your hips against him.
Raph gasped as the way you started to bounce back against him, the grasp he had on your hair releasing quite a bit. With every move you made back onto him, he leaned further and further over you, until he just couldn’t stop himself from letting his lips kiss up and down your spine.
“Admitting defeat yet, Raphael?”, you asked with a self satisfied smile, as you felt one of his arms slide down under you, pulling you closer against him.
“You’re no angel. You’re a demon, (Y/N)”, he growled against your neck.
“Nothing the Nightwatcher hasn't tried before?”
“Oh, fuck you, (Y/N)”, he moaned, his hips trying to catch up with yours.
“You already are, Raphie boy”, you smiled at him, causing him to moan against your skin.
It didn’t take long before his hips started to shutter, moving against you with such speed that you couldn’t keep up anymore.
“Fuck, (Y/N)”, he moaned against your shoulder. “I’m about to cum”.
“Me too, Raph”, you whimpered, feeling your peak reaching closer and closer, stars forming before your very eyes. It only took a few more thrust before you came around him, your walls hugging him tightly as he continued his high speed against you. Then, finally, he came, moaning your name out loud as he came inside of you, coating your walls with him, before he slowly pulled out of you.
You wanted to rest. You wanted to take your time and maybe for once, have a civil conversation with Raphael. But you couldn’t. With the sky getting brighter in the east, you knew it was time to get going. And so did Raphael. Standing up, he helped you back on your feet, zipping up the back of your suit before taking care of himself. He then went to where your mask and helmet was, handing you your mask.
You sighed as you held the mask in your hand, once again looking in the direction Drew and his gang had gone.
“I bet Drew and the others have gone over hills now”, you said, your eyes on the horizon.
“We’ll look for them tomorrow”, Raphael said, making sure the lights on his helmet weren't damaged.
“We?”, you asked, looking at him with a confused frown.
“Yes”, he answered, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression. “We”.
“I’m sorry”, you chuckled. “But what happened to the dark and broody Nightwatcher that hated working with other people?”
“Oh he never left”, Raph said, turning the helmet in his hands. “But he still has a score to settle with the Dark Angel”.
“Is that so?”, you said, crossing your arms. “What kind of score?”
“She still hasn’t admitted that I was the winner tonight”.
You laughed. A genuine laugh that Raph never had heard from you before, his heart fluttering a little at the sound.
“Keep dreaming”, you said, smacking his arm with your mask.
“I don’t have to dream”, Raph smirked. “Because I’m right”. With those words be brought the helmet back over his head, and for a moment you wished he would keep it off. You enjoyed his brown eyes way more than those bright headlights. “See you later, Angel”.
“See you, Watcher”, you said, pulling the mask down over your face, grabbing your bow and arrow before disappearing over the rooftops while Raph went back to his motorcycle.
#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt raphael#tmnt raph#tmnt leonardo#tmnt donatello#tmnt michelangelo#tmnt donnie#tmnt mikey#tmnt leo#tmnt x reader smut#tmnt x reader#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt raph x reader smut#tmnt raphael x reader#tmnt raphael x reader smut#tmnt 2007#tmnt 2007 x reader#tmnt 2007 x reader smut#tmnt 2007 raph#tmnt 2007 raphael#tmnt 2007 raph x reader#tmnt 2007 raphael x reader#tmnt nightwatcher x reader#tmnt 2007 raph x reader smut#tmnt 2007 raphael x reader smut#tmnt nightwatcher x reader smut#tmnt 2007 nightwatcher x reader#tmnt 2007 nightwatcher x reader smut#tmnt nightwatcher
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✺ (1/5) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: withdrawal — 1,162 words (fame AU, pt.5; busy movie star misses his boyfriend and makes it his manager’s problem smh) {previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4}
“Ah ah. Nope.”
Regulus’ phone is snatched out of his hand as he passes by his manager, his scowl completely useless against Dorcas who is far too familiar with him at this point.
Maybe he needs to look into some staffing changes. (He knows he never will).
“I need to make a call,” He insists.
“No, what you need to do is go thank your director and co-lead for this wonderful experience so you keep getting spoken about nicely and therefore get jobs.”
“For my own paycheck or for yours?”
“Oh, sweetheart, no matter how many movies you make, I don’t get paid enough for all this.” Dorcas circles a finger toward his face in reference then sweeps the same hand to motion him back toward the main area of the wrap party. “Back at it, superstar.”
“He said he’s supposed to be in the studio by the time I’m out of here,” Regulus tries.
Dorcas tilts her head, sucking her teeth. “Maybe don’t date a musician next time.”
“Next time,” He scoffs with a roll of his eyes.
“Aw, serious monogamy really is a great look for you, babe. You know what’s also a good look for you? Continued employment.” She waves him past her once again.
“I’m firing you tomorrow,” Regulus grumbles.
“Yeah, take a shot every time I’ve heard that one,” Dorcas snorts. “I’ll text James and let him know he can call you when he’s free. You can’t be that deep in withdrawal already, you just talked to him yesterday. For like two hours.”
Regulus flips her off over his shoulder and meanders back through the party.
He’s done so many of these wrap parties at this point in his career that he’s bored by them. Doesn’t feel the need to get drunk like the newer, fresher faces. Doesn’t feel the need to schmooze and make a big deal out of himself like the names that are fading into obscurity. He coasts in that oh so comfortable ground of being well-known and well-loved —making nice and taking photos, truly putting the acting chops he’s known for to the test.
When his phone is placed back in his palm as he and Dorcas are in the car back to their hotel, Regulus is done acting, however. His glare goes just as ignored as it usually does, because Dorcas knows he’s not actually angry with her. Even as he makes it a point to stay silent the whole drive back while she rattles off his travel itinerary for the following morning.
At least he knows the travel will be bringing him to James; silver linings.
It’s been weeks since they’ve been in the same place —all the jokes about withdrawal and he might actually be experiencing some. Made all the more apparent by the knowledge that the one year anniversary of the first time they started seeing each other in secret is days away, meant to be spent together away from work and everyone else. (They have separate anniversaries now; James’ idea. One for when they began, and one for when the world found out about them).
He and Dorcas make it all the way to the doors to their respective suites across the hall from one another and he thinks he’s in the clear. No more lectures or scheduling or any of the things he finds so much less fun about his job. But then Dorcas halts outside her door and calls over to him to make him pause before he can swipe his card key.
“What now?” He snaps.
She scrunches her face unpleasantly at him. “Don’t be cranky.”
“I’m tired, Dorcas,” He sighs.
He notices her focus shift past him to his suite’s door and frowns. The corner of her lips curls upward just barely, like she can’t quite help it. She nods her head toward his room, amusement in her gaze when it meets his again.
“Don’t say I never do anything nice for you.” She promptly enters her own room after the confusing statement, leaving Regulus staring at her closed door incredulously.
He blinks a couple quick times then shakes his head and finally swipes the key card on his door. The entryway is dark when he enters the suite, but the light in the bedroom was evidently left on earlier so he uses that to guide him further inside. Tosses off the expensive leather jacket he’s been wearing all night onto an armchair as he passes.
Regulus is half-finished undoing his button-down shirt when he freezes in the bedroom doorway, eyes going wide.
“Well, don’t stop on my account.”
Oh.
Oh, that’s—
“James.”
Right there. Sitting at the end of the suite’s made up king size bed. Casual in the joggers and hoodie he typically flies comfortably in. A half a dozen red roses wrapped in a silver ribbon in his hand. Duffel bag at his feet and suitcase beside it.
“Hi, baby,” James says, grinning brightly.
Maybe Regulus did drink too much at the party. Maybe he did get a little overzealous with the champagne while he chatted with his co-star. Because there’s a tingling beneath his skin all of a sudden, a burst of something fuzzy and light in his chest.
“You—”
“Flew here to meet you.” James nods.
“But I have—”
“Dorcas canceled your flight to me yesterday when I told her I wanted to surprise you.”
“You conspired with my manager when you know I hate surprises?”
James holds his free hand up in semblance of a shrug. “Romance?”
“Oh my god, I hate you.” It’s a breathless laugh at best, no bite, no genuine annoyance. It’s never been a bigger lie.
Regulus is halfway across the room in seconds and James meets him there in two wide strides, catching him when he throws his arms up over his shoulders. Easily, one arm belts around Regulus’ waist, helps haul him upward further when Regulus wraps his legs around his waist, too. James carefully tosses the flowers back onto the bed in favor of sinking his fingers into black curls when Regulus buries his face in the side of his neck and breathes in deeply.
“Missed you,” James murmurs, lips dragging along the hinge of Regulus’ jaw.
“You were going to see me tomorrow afternoon,” Regulus mumbles, arms looping tighter around the back of his neck.
“Not soon enough.” James presses a kiss just beneath his ear. “Heard you’ve been having a hard time.”
“I’m not having a hard time.”
“Yeah? Didn’t miss me, too?”
“No.”
“Would now be a bad time to point out that you’re currently clung to me like a koala? Because I can count on one hand the number of times that’s happened.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
James breathes out a laugh, presses another kiss to his cheek this time, then leads them both to the bed. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”
Okay, yeah, Regulus is definitely not firing Dorcas tomorrow. (As if he was going to anyway).
#jegulus#starchaser#sunseeker#jegulus microfic#aaaaaahhh i missed them my little famous babies#this got away from me a little but -jazz hands- Them#i love them so much#also someone give dorcas a raise#kay’s writing#kay’s microfics
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Jim Gordon had seen a lot of things in all his years as both an officer and Commissioner but for the most part things stayed at an arms length or he was able to easily separate himself from situations. Of course, there were incidents that were a bit harder to seperate from like Barbara becoming paralyzed due to Joker, all the times he or Barabara nearly died, kidnappings, and watching friends and loved ones either die or go down a dark path, but for the most part his life wasn't too crazy.
At least that was until one summer that all changed rather dramatically. In the form of a redhaired teenager showing up at his police station. She was around 17 and was wearing teal pants, a black shirt and a teal headband. But no matter her age or what she was wearing it didn't change the fact that she looked like Barabra had when she was younger.
That mixed with the fact that she specifically asked to see 'Jim Gordon' was something that made all of the Gotham PD point her in his direction. Once they were face to face the girl let out a shaky breath.
"My name is Jasmine Fenton, I'm your second cousin and I need your help protecting my brother from my parents and Batman."
Jim was shocked, blinking confusion away as he held up his hand. "Wait wait. You're my-"
"Second cousin. My mother is Madeline Walker."
Maddie. He knew Maddie though he had only met her a couple of times. Her mom and his dad were siblings. That explained why Jasmine looked so much like Barbara at least.
"Maddie... right, I remember Maddie. Okay, so why does your brother need protection? Specifically from your parents and Batman?"
Jasmine played with her hands. "My... my brother is different, Commissioner Gordon and my parents found out. They hurt him... badly. So we came here because you're the only one who might be able to help us but if Batman finds out we're here then Danny could get hurt again. B-but my parents and the government are wrong out him! H-he's not evil, he's a hero. H-he's a hero but because of what he is... he's labled as evil..."
Jim frowned, "Okay... is your brother a meta?"
Jasmine shook her head. "No."
Damn. Meta protection act wouldnt help here.
"Alright... is your brother with you?"
Jasmine sniffled then nodded. "He's in the car sleeping."
Jim stood up, grabbing his jacket off of the coat hanger. "Take me to him, please."
"You won't hurt him?"
"You have my word."
Jasmine looked at him, her teal eyes filled with more exhaustion and anxiety than any childs should be. Then, she let out a shaky breath and lead him out of the room.
They walked through the police station before Jasmine lead him out to the parking lot to the furthest corner of it where a beat up red station wagon was parked alone. Jasmine then gestured to the back window as Jim looked in.
The seats had been laid down and blankets laid out in a makeshift bed where a teenager around 14 or 15 laid sleeping on it. The teenager had healing bruises on his face and arms as well as a multitude of bandages that Jim could see peeking over the blanket, specifically on his chest. What had Jim the most concerened though was how pale the boy was and how weak his breathing seemed.
Any doubts Jim might have had immediately flew out the window. It no longer mattered who these two kids were they were kids in trouble.
"Why didn't you take him to the hosptial?" Jim asked, looking at Jasmine who looked ready to cry.
"Because if the Government finds out where he is they'll take him away and kill him. What he is isnt supposed to exist and is listed as 'dangerous'." She sniffled.
Jim frowned. The goverment couldn't know yet they took the risk to come to him? They must have been desperate.
"Okay, let me see your keys. I'll take you kids to my place to hide then call my daughter."
"Y-your daughter?" Jasmine asked, handing the keys over regardless.
"Yeah. She's good with these kinds of things and if she can't help I might know somebody else who can." Jim explained, climbing into the drivers seat as Jasmine ran to the other side.
"T-they won't turn us in, right?"
"No, they wont. My daughter is a librarian and my friend is a butler, they know how to keep secrets." He promised, pulling away from the police station in the direction of his house.
He could only hope that he would be able to help these two kids, and that whatever fear they had of the Batman wouldn't end up being justified fears.
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more dark!reader with dilf!cillian who slowly accepts reader's tendencies🥹 it made me feel things
right away
Sweet, Little Girl | Cillian Murphy
Pairing -> cillian murphy x dark!reader
Summary -> You're Cillian Murphy's next door neighbor. You're young and innocent, and he's an attractive older man—surely he must be the one taking advantage of you . . . right?
Word count: 1k
Warnings: sexual content, DARK!!, MENTION OF DRUGGING AND RAPE, sub!cillian & dom!reader undertones, age-gap (reader's early twenties, cillian's early forties, cillian knew reader when she was underage but relationship started way after), use little girl/sir nickname, mention of daddy nickname, mention of marriage, reader's manipulative, pregnancy, mention of breeding
Disclaimer: This is not a reflection of Cillian Murphy's actual life. This is completely separate and is not intended to harm him or his family in any way. DNI if you're a Yvonne hater. This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.
A/N: This is basically a part two to that first cillian fic
Cillian Murphy loved you, that much he knew. It didn’t matter what you did to him, how possessive you behaved, how cruel your love was, how wrong the things you did were; he loved you till he couldn’t, as strong as waves in a storm at sea, as bright and passionate as the sun’s unrelenting gaze. You were like a rose with thorns. As long as he had you, it was okay if he bled. After all, you would be there to patch him up — you always were.
“You won’t ever leave me, right?” you asked, curling up beside him in bed. Your face was illuminated by the moonlight, streaming in through the window, and he couldn’t help but admire you. Beautiful, beautiful thing.
“Never,” he murmured. “I don’t even want to think about that. I’m yours. And you’re mine.”
Cillian knew your relationship was unacceptable. He'd known you since you were a teenager. You were that darling sweetheart who lived next door, mature and thoughtful, the type that would listen to him monologue about his passion for acting, the one who would in turn trust him with her deepest, darkest secrets.
But you were an adult now. You were capable of making your own decisions, and you choose to be with him. Was it so wrong then?
"That's what I like to hear," you said, taking in a whiff of his scent, like you always did. Something about his cologne, you had explained. "And you're still okay with marriage, yeah?"
"Of course." Cillian leaned over and gave you a kiss on the nose. "I'll get to call you my wife." He lips trailed down to your own, his tongue sweeping over your skin. He wanted to touch you, to feel you, to have your body against his and show you how much you meant to him.
His breathing hitched when you hand reached down under the blanket to squeeze his cock. Only briefly, before you let go, like you hadn't done it at all.
"I'm glad you came to your senses," you said. "You were crying the first time we had sex."
The memory came back to him. He hadn't wanted to make you upset, but it was all just too much for him. You were milking him to the point where he wasn't sure if he had anything left to give, and he just couldn't handle it, his mind still hazed from the drugs. He wasn't sure if it was a dream or not, but when he woke up the next morning and got you a pregnancy test, he knew it wasn't.
The baby bump hadn't shown yet, but he knew it was going to soon. Cillian couldn't wait to place his ears to your belly, listening to the sounds of your future child. You had hurt him that day, but he didn't regret a single thing. It got him closer to you.
"You should have given me a warning. I was scared," he admitted, averting his gaze. "You scared me."
"I didn't mean to. I always thought you wouldn’t notice me. Well, you never did notice me." You gave a dry chuckle. “That’s why I had to be so forceful. I mean, you see me now, don’t you?”
“I always saw you,” Cillian replied softly. “But you know I couldn’t do anything. I couldn't risk loosing you. What if you didn't feel the same way?"
"You're so silly. Remember when I used to come to your house, dressed in nothing but a bathing suit? I would beg you to take me to the pool. Then I'd get you all alone in the hot tub . . . "
Cillian did remember. He always got so nervous when you came close to him, drifting through the water. You would place your hands up against his chest and flutter your eyelashes, claiming all you wanted was his comfort.
At the time, he had shrugged it off as a want for fatherly affection. Now he saw it for what it was.
"And I'd call you up in the middle of the night," you continued, running your fingers alone his collarbone. "'Oh, I can't sleep, Cilly. Can we talk?' And then we'd end up in your car, driving down lone roads in the cover of the night. We found that place, by the lake. I loved it there," you said wistfully. "We'd just sit for hours, with the sunroof open, gazing at the stars, listening to crickets and hooting owls . . . We should do that more often. I'll drive this time."
"No," he said sternly. "You shouldn't have to worry about that kind of stuff. I can handle it."
You giggled at his words and cuddled closer to him, draping your leg over his. "Whatever you say, sir."
You knew how worked up he got when you called him that. Of course, you were in charge. You never had to say it, it was just something you both accepted, but you still liked pretending he was the one in power. You'd call him 'sir' or 'daddy' — all in a playful manner, but you'd still say it nonetheless.
"Little girl," he cooed. "You're just the sweetest thing, aren't you?"
"Only for you," you flirted, letting your guard down. "You're the only one I'd do this with."
Cillian's heart warmed. "I know."
His eyes glanced to the clock on the wall. It was late, nearing midnight, and you had to get up early for college tomorrow. He had work as well. He had taken far too many sick days staying at home with you, talking about wedding plans, baby names, hell, even the most random things that could come to one's mind.
"Feeling tired?" he asked, caressing your cheek with a stroke of his finger.
"Kinda. Can we go to sleep now?"
It wasn't really a question. Cillian would say yes to whatever you wanted.
"Yeah. Goodnight," he breathed out, "I love you."
You smiled, a genuine smile, one filled with pure happiness. "Goodnight," you said back, your tone low. "I love you, too. More than you can ever imagine."
Taglist:
@henrywintersdearestgirl
@shroombloom-rry
@meetmeatyourworst
@mrkdvidal1989
@nela-cutie
@obsessionandmadness
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy x y/n#fanfiction#pinguwrites
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Prompt 12 with rafe 😇 🫶🏻
"your boyfriend doesn't need to know about this."
warnings 18+, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, squirting, cheating, language
prompt list (requests closed) / rafe masterlist
Things with your boyfriend are tumultuous, to say the least. The two of you seem to argue at the drop of a hat. It doesn't matter how minor the issue is; it always snowballs into a screaming match that ends in both of you going your separate ways for the night.
You aren't quite sure what he does when you leave the house, but you're always quick to run out of there, finding consolation in the arms of Rafe Cameron.
Turning to Rafe when you need a stress reliever is all you crave the minute things turn sour, even if it is against your better judgment. He just scratches that itch a million times over and does it with ease.
"Fuck, Rafe."
Your nails sink into Rafe's leather seats as you bounce on his cock. Your past release is dripping down his cock, giving you even more slick to work with as you take everything you need from him.
You can't help it, but your mind starts to wander. You aren't without remorse, and as hard as you try, you can't deny the thoughts of how this would affect your relationship.
Rafe senses the energy between you shift, and his eyes flit up to yours. "Don't," he warns, "your boyfriend doesn't need to know about this."
"I...I need to tell him. Shit," you curse when he rubs against your sweet spot.
"Yeah? You wanna tell him how I'm the only one that can fuck the attitude out of you and keep you cumming 'til you're crying?"
"Rafe."
Rafe's hand grips your throat, tugging you to him. He nips at your earlobe before his teeth graze over the shell of your ear. "Why don't you tell him how you let me fuck you in the bed where he sleeps at night? In the house he bought for you?"
His free hand finds your clit with ease, rubbing it with vicious motions. Your knees buckle, and he wraps the arm that previously controlled your neck around your back, keeping you upright. He starts to fuck his cock up into you, taking control of the situation.
"Or better yet, let me cum inside you and leave it there for him to see when he tries to make this shit up to you."
You let out a loud whine as you clench around him. "Please. Please," you beg. "Oh my god, I'm so fucking close."
"I don't like that you let him fuck you, princess. You're wasting this pussy on him," he gripes, fucking you harder. "He doesn't deserve this perfect pussy. Doesn't know what to do with it."
"I'm cumming, I'm cumming," you chant, wrapping your arms behind Rafe's neck as you hold on. He keeps up his perfect rhythm, and you squeeze the life out of his cock as you release.
"Oh, fuck."
You signal his own release, and his cum shoots into your walls. He fucks it into you with a few lazy but harsh thrusts and pulls out. He doesn't allow you to breathe, though, because you feel his thick fingers pound inside you.
"What are you doing?" You ask, eyes wide at his invasion.
"Reminding you that I'm the one that knows this pussy best. Not him," he gruffs, repeatedly hooking his fingers against your g-spot. His thumb works magic on your clit, and the overstimulation shocks you. "Make a mess, princess. Squirt for me."
You shake your head furiously, "N-no. I can't."
Rafe moves faster, rougher, and your legs start to shake. His free hand grips your jaw in warning as his dark gaze locks on yours, "You will."
Like clockwork, he pulls another orgasm from you as easily as his lungs pull oxygen in, and within seconds your juices pour out of you, drenching you both.
"You're not telling him shit."
#꒰ — prompts ꒱#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron blurb#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#outer banks#outer banks x reader#outer banks smut#outer banks imagine#outer banks blurb#obx#obx x reader#obx smut#obx imagine#obx blurb#drew starkey
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how they take selfies with you
dan heng, jing yuan, seele, gepard, march, sampo, kafka, blade, tingyun (separately) x gn!reader
honkai version. i posted the same thing on my genshin writing blog so if it seems familiar, that's why. might do this again if more characters are released. there's a bit of possessiveness in blade's but that's about all.
content under the cut | masterlist
dan heng
he's surpringly easy when it comes to convincing him to take selfies with you. as someone who's often found in the archive room, he also likes to keep his own little "archive" of all that you experienced together, no matter how big or small the moment might've been. however, to get him to actually lose his stoic demeanor in said pictures is a little harder. he often looks super serious in pictures but you manage to make him smile sometimes. and oh, when he smiles in pictures you just spontanously combust because his smile is <333
jing yuan
jing yuan is known to have a very soft spot for you and it shows in the pictures the two of you take together. gentle smile, an arm over your shoulder as you lean against him. as a general of the cloud knights, he is often busy. to make up for the times you're unable to see each other, a lot of selfies exist (and he looks at them whenever he misses you or has a rough day on the job). he likes to show you off a little, and he is more than happy to talk about you when someone asks him about the person he poses with on his phone wallpaper. told ya, he has a massive soft spot for you.
seele
this girl appears super tough, but i can totally see her loosening up around you! still a girlboss ofcourse but with a massive soft spot for you that brings out her fun side. though a lot of pictures are very dark due to her living in belobog's underworld, that doesn't stop the joy from radiating off them. she isn't a big fan of taking selfies but makes an exception when you join in. honestly i can see her trying to appear all cool with a peace sign but in reality she just looks super cute with your arm around her waist. oh, and just wait until she discovers the existence of filters. she will beg you to try them all out together!
gepard landau
especially in the beginning, selfies together are kind of a rarity because he's simply too awkward lol. you might have to use your puppy eyes often if you want to snap a picture with him. but don't worry, later on he'll let loose a little and maybe even take the initiative to take pictures together. at first he looks in the camera with a blush, rather stiffly. but after a while he gets more comfy with the whole ordeal. it all begins with a simple hand on your shoulder, but at some point he will find his favorite pose; gepard likes holding you against his chest as you take pictures together, which is the cutest thing ever.
march 7th
this girl absolutely loves taking selfies with you. the time you two spend together is basically a vlog, as she records all the things you do. "y/n, smile!" she exclaims somewhere around five times per minute, as you are faced with her phone and a smiling march who leans her head onto your shoulder and snaps a photo. she finds it adorable how you sometimes look a little confused as she surprises you with another selfie. she always looks super cheerful in your pictures together as she adores spending time with you, and it's contagious! your photos radiate joy.
sampo koski
he's probably a little hesitant about taking pictures together (he's scared he might end up finding them on those wanted posters, you know) but at some point he gives in and oh, it will result in the most extra selfies to exist. he isn't afraid of funny poses and silly faces and goofy filters and you two just have a lot of fun as you take picture together. however, as he is still sampo koski, they will eventually leak and end up on a poster so yeah, there's that. as you find a picture of the two of you together plastered on a building (with a statement that emphasizes that it regards the blue-haired male) you can't help but laugh, tearing it from the wall as a keepsake.
kafka
pictures might leak, which may expose her whereabouts, but this woman couldn't care less. she knows she looks stunning in pictures and when you join her to take a selfie? that's the prettiest picture to ever exist in her eyes (and i agree). they appear very casual but she's totally showing you off! she wears a coy smile, fingers curling over your shoulder as she holds you close, to let everyone know you're taken. her goal is probably to take a selfie with you with a stellaron in the background, basically her favorite things together in one picture.
blade
this guy likes to show you off, believe me. he wants everyone to know that you're his, and he always holds you close when you take pictures together. he barely looks into the camera, having his eyes on you most of the time. only when he places a kiss on your cheek he gazes into the camera slyly, as if to say "they're mine, back off." he knows very well how good the two of you look together and not only that, he secretly just loves to have many pictures of you. fun fact, he carries a polaroid of you together with him and gets blushy when the other stellaron hunters tease him with it.
tingyun
she adores you, and it shows! every picture you take together is so so cute and pretty and it's just goals. she always wears the sweetest smile on your photos and you're lying if you say that her smile doesn't make your heart flutter! your pictures together just look very comfy and loving, with the most adorable poses (cheeks against each other, finishing each other's heart, and so on). her ears perk up every time you open your camera and ask her to join. sometimes, she gets a little shy when you wrap your arms around her before snapping a picture, and her ears would droop a little which is also very cuuute. but the cutest thing? the joy in her pretty eyes hehe.
#hsr#honkai star rail#honkai#honkai x reader#dan heng#dan heng x reader#jing yuan#jing yuan x reader#seele#seele x reader#gepard#gepard landau#gepard x reader#gepard landau x reader#march 7th#march 7th x reader#sampo#sampo koski#sampo x reader#kafka#kafka x reader#blade#blade x reader#tingyun#tingyun x reader#— enyo writes
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