#just slap a couple nice tags on a reblog

[mochilatae]

No One Else (Namjoon x Reader)

Word Count: 5.0kish

Pairing: Namjoon x Y/n/Reader

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected sex, semi-clothed sex, creampie, biting, groping, pinching, slapping, kissing (tongue and other), aggressive Namjoon, jealousy, possessive undertones, rough/intense sex, orgasms (yours and his), squirting (implied), hair pulling, scratching, cuddling, softness (at the end), rich Namjoon/CEO Namjoon elements, Established (early) relationship stuff

Genre: PWP, Established Relationship

AUs: CEO BTS/CEO Namjoon

Summary: Namjoon is a man who gets what he wants. Nothing is out of his reach. You find out what happens when he thinks someone else might get something that should be his. It brings out a side of him you never knew existed.

Author’s Note:

For my sis @worldwideseal

This is a standalone story from the CEO AU and isn't the same CEO Namjoon from previous stories, although there are some of the same elements (established relationship).

Thank you for reading. If you liked it, feel free to comment. If you reblog, it's also very much appreciated but not required.

Tags: @askkrisachan @kiestrokes

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

The penthouse door shut behind you and Namjoon’s footsteps followed shortly after. 

Although the foyer hall was dark, you knew it well enough to identify every single shape like you’d lived there for years. You’d certainly leaned into the comfort and confidence of accepting that you did in fact live here. It was as official as could be: you’d gotten a couple bills and updated your mailing address.

It didn’t get any more real than that. 

As you wandered past the tall mirror mounted on the wall, you glanced at yourself, enjoying the site of your legs in the heels chosen for the night: slightly taller stilettos that made your legs look as long as you’d always wanted. 

It was that much better hearing Namjoon’s dress shoes pacing at your back. You finally slowed at the end of the hall, facing the den unfolding before your eyes. Based on the warmth suddenly rising at your back, Namjoon had stopped just behind you. 

His breath grazing your shoulder only confirmed the fact a moment later. His words chased the fading wisps when he spoke. 

“Did you have a good time?” 

Whatever reason he was asking, you hid your confusion and smiled, noting the far off night sky through the massive picture windows framing the room across the way. The night sky looked surreal this high up. Living in one of the tallest buildings in the center of a bustling city had its perks–and this one was high on your list. 

“Yes.” You whispered. A beat passed.

Namjoon’s lips pressed your skin then slid towards the outside of one shoulder and departed just there. “Good.” He murmured.

Another moment slipped between the silence that followed.

“..It was nice to show you off.” 

Hearing him say that ALWAYS felt amazing, and Namjoon never seemed to get tired of announcing it. You often suspected that was the whole reason he insisted you come along to these events.

Gatherings. Galas. Whatever they were, whenever they happened, it was almost a guarantee he’d send you a message ahead of time with a save the date notice. 

Which was followed by a visit to his tailor for fittings. Beautiful dresses that you’d never imagined being in, customized to your shape. Emphasizing what you had and making you feel like a model. A goddess. 

Skin treatments that had you smelling like heaven and glowing like an angel come to earth. You couldn’t get enough. The hours of prep was always worth the end result: eyes on you.

Attention of the most surprisingly good kind. It was a wonderful change you’d grown into with this relationship.

For once sensing eyes on you from all directions didn’t scream ‘be on guard’. It lifted you. Pumped your ego and fed it to a healthy size. 

You always came back to a single home truth: the only eyes you really desired belonged to Namjoon. His stare was what you craved. Dined on, when it was served. 

Like he’d done earlier tonight, all through the drive over. In steely silence, city lights washing features and his jaw muscle writhing. From next to you at the banquet hall table, shoulder to shoulder among his friends and associates. 

And just like now: when you turned and spotted his gaze leveled your way again. There was something amiss in the sparkle there, beaming from those narrowing eyes. 

“What?” You scoffed playfully, offering a coquettish pose, fanning lashes at him. Your lips pursed just a little and Namjoon’s own thinned into a very taut smile. 

One that you’d seen after many unpleasant work meetings or a particularly busy work day. He did move a lot of money so his mood could be mercurial. 

Nerves rising a little, sending goosebumps along your skin, you straightened a bit, waiting for him to speak. But Namjoon didn’t. He waited just long enough to break the silence, right when your lips parted to speak.

“What did you think of him?”

“Him.” You repeated, now fully turned to face Namjoon. He was slow, tugging each cuff of his suit jacket sleeves and sliding arms out one after the other. Even in spite of the broad shouldered design of the garment, Namjoon shedding it did little to diminish his stature. 

This man managed to look just as broad. Except now the more fitted shape of his dress shirt thoroughly outlined his triangular shape. As if you needed the reminder he was spending more and more time at the gym in the mornings. 

Like it wasn’t enough he could destroy you as he was if he never stepped foot in there again, but that wasn’t enough for him. Namjoon cared about his body and keeping it ready to work at peak performance. He didn’t just keep his mind sharp. He kept every muscle ready. Trained. 

He wanted the best and he did not sit back until it came to him. He chased it down, made it his own. Just like he’d done to you.

The way he stepped closer after hanging the jacket on a nearby wall hook shrank the air around you. This room’s high ceiling wouldn’t stop you if your soul departed and sailed up with the energy of a rocket off the launch pad. 

You swallowed, chest dangerously tight. That was easy enough to ignore–you had to or you’d panic. 

“Him?” You repeated, letting all the confusion and nervousness out in this single word. 

It didn’t change that slowly deepening glare that had taken residence on Namjoon’s face.

“Him.” He grunted, tone like granite. And just as warm. Now he was within reach, chest puffing. His fingers found your chin, tracing the shape, then circled and held tight. Slowly he tipped your face up so he could see you clearly. 

Knowing Namjoon was looking into your eyes, there wouldn’t be any way to retreat because you couldn’t look away, no matter how hard you tried. 

“The man who was talking to you by the champagne fountain.” 

Your mind scrambled backwards in the evening, combing over every mundane detail. Things you might have missed, down to the color of the salad fork and the way Namjoon had unfolded his napkin and laid it on his lap.

The big, plump warmth of his palm on your thigh there, under the table. The way it climbed slowly until you’d almost choked on a mouthful of red wine between courses. Just before you’d gone to the dancefloor. 

“Oh.” The admitting came in a low wheeze from your lips. You resisted licking them, lest you ruin the lipstick you’d purchased just for this evening. 

Namjoon released your chin. Smiling, he leaned closer. It was hard to see that smile didn’t go further than the apples of his cheeks because you’d never seen it directed at you. He was not pleased. 

“Yes.” He cooed but it was a rumble. From deep in that broad chest. The buttons of his shirt looked like they were as stressed as you felt. His free hand was at the top button, popping it open. “..Him. What did you think of him?” 

“You want me to say something specific, then tell me.” You replied. Playing mind games with Namjoon was dangerous when he was in a mood like this. It couldn’t have gone well for anyone who tried it in the world of business and you were far more woefully underskilled to even begin trying. 

You’d be crushed like a bug. 

Namjoon’s smile stayed. He opened a second button. More skin came into view, the v shape of parting shirt material widening. Tempting your attention and the beginnings of a sweet ache much further below your navel. 

“I just want the truth.” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

“I know you wouldn’t, Y/n. Which is why I trust that I can ask you and get the answer.”

“I can’t make something up. I just said—” You sputtered weakly and Namjoon’s finger drew a rail of fire down your lips,heading for the center divot at the base of your throat. You were helpless as your head lolled backwards. 

The ceiling was all you could see, starlight making a white aura there as his touch stopped and he traced a spiral there just near one collarbone. His lips feathered your neck on one side and your knees shook.

He growled. Sank teeth gently to pinch just a bit of skin. So careful that you knew it could be so much more dangerous than he was letting it become. And you knew HE knew how much this turned you on. The danger contained and wielded by such a powerful man like Namjoon Kim.

Beyond-billionaire. Earned his stripes and his reputation. Earned the privacy and mystery of his success and the corners of his life he kept locked up tight. You’d only just gotten into the inner circle but there were doors you knew were still closed. 

Especially when it came to his appetites. You’d never thought that you could walk around on this earth feeling perpetually wet like Namjoon had you doing since you became serious. 

Your knees locked as you drew in a deep breath. Instead of helping, your head spun. 

“So don’t. The truth gets MUCH better rewards than lies,my sweet. Unless..” He dragged a finger over the wet spot where his teeth had been, then massaged into the depression left. You bit back a moan. 

“...Unless you like that kind of thing? Are you that type? Do you like to be punished, Y/n? I know we’re still learning about each other–we’ve got a long way to go. But I wouldn’t mind knowing that. I can oblige if you’re into going through it. Wouldn’t be my first time.” 

Oh my god. The ceiling wobbled and you blinked. Shaking your head had you unsteady in the heels you’d managed to strut successfully in most of the night. Good thing it didn’t last long before the ceiling stilled again. 

Namjoon moved onto your shoulders, bringing one finger under the stress strap and tugging it aside. It fell down to your bicep. The tickle was so intense you almost shuddered. Everything was so alive with Namjoon so close. 

Having him in your life had EVERYTHING much brighter and more fresh, so this should stop being a surprise, and yet…

After he guided the other strap down and it was hanging the same way on the other side, Namjoon’s eyes came into view after he cupped the back of your head and pulled it upright. Placing your attention solidly where he wanted. Getting his way.

Exactly what he deserved. 

The only remaining sign of his former smile were two dangerously thin pink lines, even tighter than you felt. 

“Are you that type?” He was speaking so low and quiet, forcing you to strain beyond your thundering heart just to hear. 

“I’m not.” 

“..Mmmhm.” He barely nodded. Something entered his eyes–a new kind of flame. Flickering and hungry. Was that …jealousy? Namjoon’s lips parted and his forehead barely touched yours. He spoke again. 

“Then tell me what you thought of him.” He wasn’t going to let this go.

At least you’d finally remembered who he was talking about: some nice older man from your trip to the champagne fountain while Namjooon made his social rounds. One of the only moments he’d left your side. 

An exotically handsome man. With an accent thick enough you mostly understood and pieced together what he’d asked. Basic questions. A compliment, and his reaching for your earring–the 24k dangling drop with a real pearl at the center. 

He’d been brief in his conversation and your gut dropped when you remembered the man leaning close to speak in your ear and whispering his compliment on the accessory. It wasn’t a long conversation and enough people had been around, you hadn’t realized Namjoon was still aware enough to see. 

But he had. His sneering smile slowly opened the door to whatever lurked underneath his composure as he waited.

Two of his fingers walked right down the center of your chest, stopping at the top of your dress, where it dipped low between the swells of both breasts, then curved into a hook shape. 

“I didn’t..” Your lips shook. It was a bleating plea. No room to feel pathetic or weak. You meant it so much right now.

The plea in your eyes hit whatever wall was up in his mind. Namjoon smirked a little, heat rolling from his flaring nostrils with the sound. 

Your body jerked forward as he pulled away, dragging you with him. You barely kept up, stumbling along, heels dangerously unsteady as you both moved towards the hallway. It never seemed so long, passing doors as you plodded along, going from marble to tile to carpet, paving the way to the last door at the very end.

Namjoon only let go to reach forward and open the door. He pushed a little with one palm, then stepped aside and jerked his chin towards the inner chamber. 

You moved over the threshold. Just like he’d done with the front door, Namjoon shut the bedroom door. Even so, closed off from the rest of the place, this room was massive and always felt that way. Day or night, it didn’t matter. This space was just as big as everywhere else here. 

Namjoon wasn’t about to live small. He demanded room and made his own, no apologies. 

You turned around, seeing his form striding for the closet. Without looking at you, Namjoon was at work, stripping his shirt off. It fell to the floor as a crumpled heap. His hands went to his belt as he stood in the open closet doorway. 

It was like he’d felt your hands rising to the back of your dress, arms twisting and fumbling to find your dress zipper. His words were ice, cutting across the darker space. 

“Don’t you dare. Face the bed. Bend over, palms flat.” 

Your eyes opened wider but you turned away and did as told. You hear the sounds of hangers moving along the rails in the closet. He disappeared then, the sound of material rustling coming from around the door that blocked your sight. 

Forever seemed to pass as you stared at the headboard further up, so many pillows arranged neatly. Almost nearly perfect. Namjoon was no slouch in housekeeping efforts either. His cleaners knew their standard and never slipped an inch.

A hard squeeze on one ass cheek, through the material of your dress made your thighs tense. You went up on toes and your ankles threatened to quit entirely. Fingers curled into the perfectly smooth bed sheets. Your nails dug deep into the cool surface, sending an ache through the first knuckles on every finger. 

Your lips retreated from your teeth as you sucked air through. “Joon..” You whined. Heat rushed through your folds, daggering right up into your center. You felt the rush of pressure and warmth building just behind your seal. 

Namjoon’s laugh behind you was long and faded. His single slap was hard. A little bit more pain than pleasure and you took it, eyes rolling a little. You quickly focused on a single pillow at the center of the collection directly ahead. 

“Love it when you say my name.” His fingers pinched. Groped a solid handful of your cheek and kneaded. He let go and the ache stayed there for a few seconds. “..You remember his name too?” 

“No.” You spat out. Even if you did you wouldn’t have said it for all the money in the world. You wanted to forget you’d even met this guy, whomever he was, that Namjoon suddenly couldn’t think about anything but that stranger. 

“No?” Another snicker and Namjoon’s fingers traced the hem of your dress and tugged it up over your ass. He bunched the material around your lower back. You wanted to feel shame but the fire didn’t stay at your face, it ran right down to your pussy. 

“Please.” You began. A low moan came out when Namjoon ran the back of a knuckle across the crotch of your panties.

“So hot, kitten. Is that me..or him?” 

“Namjoon..” You whined now, thighs openly shaking. Your knees bent briefly and you struggled, straightening them again. Your ass jerked and Namjoon kissed the small of your back. 

“Don’t you hear me? I’m talking to you. You weren’t noticing me when he was next to you.”

You had so many things you wanted to say–every word bottlenecking at the back of your lips. You worked, chewing invisible sounds but nothing made it out. It was peak frustration borne of the pinnacle of arousal. 

And it was going to burn you alive. Namjoon was quite clearly happy to see you spinning so far out of control while he was slowly gathering the reins. 

His monologuing continued as he followed both sides of the cotton center panel with a pointer finger, debating which side to move first. As if it was a when, not an if. Time warped, extending into the unknowable future as you waited. Suffered. Found it harder to focus on anything but survival. 

The sheets under your palms warmed and sank a little deeper when your weight listed forward. A knee rutted the inside of your right thigh, hinting. ‘Spread’ wasn’t said in a word, just in that action.

“Seeing him close to you made me realize something. I’m a jealous man. I want what’s mine. What’s mine…is MINE. I don’t share. Why should I have to? Is that impractical, Y/n?”

You couldn’t speak still, lips twisting. Your eyes rushed with wet heat. Shock was filling you to the top–you’d never been so emotional over desire in your life until now. Whatever was happening, you needed Namjoon to make it all disappear. To imagine he was somehow misunderstanding a casual conversation this much…

But you’d never plunged this far into the depths of a dark enjoyment: having someone so into you they were being unreasonable by more and more measure. You, a woman so desired that a man this powerful would be so swept up to lose some semblance of control. 

He could have it ALL–every inch of you. Whatever he’d ask in trade, let him take it all. Crush it in his big, strong fist. And let him put that same hand around your neck. Squeeze until you can't think or feel. Until the resistance that might be there flowed out, like the last breaths and the high that promised to rush through you at that perfect moment…

You came back to reality with Namjoon tracing something warm and blunt along your sex. It was heavy, the thump when he slapped it against you. That impact made you jump.

Your ankle rolled and you whimpered, kicking that heel off. The other went too, shooting across the carpet and ending up somewhere in the dark, chased by Namjoon’s giggle. 

“I know…it’s so much, isn’t it? But…I’m not being totally crazy, am I?” He pushed against you, his belly brushing over your ass and the pressure over you increasing as the blunt shape nosed hard into your folds. You realize: it was the tip of his cock and it was fat. 

Your senses dulled and the world grayed as you nearly fainted in need. “N..no. You…want…it..” It was hard to even hear your own voice, tinny and breathless in the dim space ahead. No need to finish your thought. He did it for you. 

“---I do want it. I want YOU. You’re mine…aren’t you?” A hand clapped over your other hip and he pulled you into his rolling hips. His cock brushed against the inside of your thigh, silky hot. Burning to the touch.

Your arms trembled and you let your face touch the sheets with a pained moan. Namjoon wound his free hand through your hair and pulled you right back up.

“Stay there. Listen to me when I’m talking to you. Couldn’t hear me there.. You hear me now, don’t you?” Cool air washed over your pussy as the panties slid to the side and took your seal with it, breaking you open. 

The head of his cock bulldozed through your flesh, spreading the slick. He used a single, spiraling stroke to coat himself and leaned back enough to seat his tip right inside of you, then leaned forward, pulling your head back to bring you into his stroke. 

It was white sparks showering through your closed eyes as he filled you up. Your walls bloomed in tightness as they filled. Stretched. Expanded to take in every inch of this thick cock pushing into you until his belly met your ass. 

When he was hilted, Namjoon tugged your hair again, firmer. Growled and let his head roll back. Pulled back just enough, then snapped his hips. Still speaking, he set a pace–a stroke every second. Not wasting time or waiting around like he’d done hours ago. 

In the elevator.

The car. 

In line to get into this dinner. 

In line to get a drink, with you against his side, demurely, fingers wound through his own and greedily choking on his cologne. 

Wetness oozed from deep inside, cresting the outer edge of your pussy lips as he drove in harder. Began to really heave with each forward thrust. 

“This..I bet he was thinking about this.. But it isn’t his. He couldn’t see or touch this–could he Y/n? You wouldn’t bend over his bed like this. You wouldn’t spread wide open and take every inch for him, would you?”

Even if he demanded you play along and answer, your body rocked and jerked so hard as he fucked you that the words would have been jostling too. Lost bouncing up your throat if they even made it to your lips. 

The grip on your hip tightened and nails scraped your skin there, leaving stinging that melted into nothing as seconds passed, overlapped by the slapping sound of your skin meeting his. The bed began to tremble when Namjoon went harder. 

You couldn’t hold it back anymore, ass raising up and head dropping,letting your face crush against the fresh cold of the sheet's surface. Your makeup made a rainbow of colors, the color of your lipstick leaving streaks below that you only glimpsed before your eyes shut again as a clamp seized your insides. Chills rushed through you, pushing out a warning moan–he was getting you close. 

You were going to cum. And it was going to be hard.

Whether or not he was actually aware, Namjoon continued to pound away at you, snarling–muttering something you couldn’t hear. Squeezing your skin so hard vessels burst underneath. He slapped and pinched, the sting biting through the ecstasy. 

“J..Jooonieee.” You keened, head heavy and turning, giving you a chance to turn your profile to one side and suck in a much needed lungful of air. You could taste his scent. Taste that cologne. Namjoon made some belly deep sound behind you.

His weight fell into you as he pushed your body onto the bed, forcing you into a prone position. Now his thrusting went from forward and back to almost straight up and down. Dunking into you, sinking down hard and rising up. Like a piston into the ground, pulling up oil. Pumping for the desired fluid, relentlessly steady. 

It was no use. Namjoon stabbed his cock deep and stayed there with a boom of pleasure. 

The clench came again and your body vibrated. Your hands clenched at sheets, tugging them towards you in desperation. Trying to pull away a little and find some moment of relief. To think a little.

Most fruitlessly of all: to save yourself against the rushing inevitability on your heels. 

“Fuck baby..You feel so good…” Barked at you this time, loud like he didn’t care to remember where he was. And if he did? He gave no fucks because it was all about what he wanted and how close it was to being in his grasp. 

He felt you within his reach, like his hand rising from your hip to your throat to grip tight, and his weight along your back as he barely planked.

You weren’t escaping.

You were trapped and you were exactly where you belonged. 

“C..close. Ple…please..Don’t..”

“What is it?” Namjoon’s tone dripped in evil. In such an offensive pretend innocence, the way he nudged at your few remaining senses.

You barely blinked, just at the edge. Ekeing out a the few words you could to warn. To beg, one last time.

“--He can’t be me. He can’t stop me. NO one takes what’s mine. THIS is mine..” The pumping started, hard and furious as Namjoon lips found your ear. 

Like he wasn’t pounding your insides into nothing but a creamy mess. He fucked into you with angry strokes. Going deep. Into your guts. Almost into your lungs.

Your throat, where his fingers circled and squeezed more. You barely gasped out the last remains of air, eyes rolling so hard it was static graywash as the orgasm hit. 

You seized under him as Namjoon pulled back and gave a few more strokes before you squeezed so tight he couldn’t move. He fell against you with a satisfied grunt, feeling you convulse and squeeze. Your pussy rippled, sending spastic ripples down the length of his thick cock. 

Namjoon ground into you as he rode out the high, then stirred himself until he shuddered.

“Make me cum..” He breathed, growling again in a long, creaking exhale as he did just that, hips blanching from how hard they pushed into your ass until he was done. Namjoon’s weight fell onto you completely as he took time to recover himself. 

Eventually he came away enough and your hair slid free from his fingers, falling across the sweating span of your shoulders. The room air washed across your skin, giving much needed air a chance to cool you off. 

You laid there until your eyes opened, then turned your face the other way, barely spotting one of Namjoon’s naked palms digging into the mattress near your head.

He leaned down enough to look into your eyes. The bridge of his nose was glittery. His temples and brow fared the same but Namjoon didn’t seem to notice. 

Instead he offered a pleased grin. Both dark browns rose. “Still with me, Y/n? Here..look at me.” 

Right now doing that took every ounce of energy you could muster. And that wasn’t much. Your ass clenched with the occasional aftershocks in your pussy. As your hips shifted you felt the dampness under your mound. It was a sizable circle that spread almost wide enough to both hips. 

“I..” You licked your lips, then tried again. “...I..came.”

“Did you?” Namjoon winked. How he still had any ability to be upright was sending you right now. It must have looked like you’d been shot, the way you just posed there on the bed, boneless. Feeling weak and wasted. 

Dick drunk. The very definition.

Whatever his jealousy had inspired, Namjoon had done well above whatever he needed to do to prove himself to whatever his name was. You could barely remember anyone from hours ago, let alone the man he’d fixated on. Maybe that was how he’d wanted and planned it. 

Namjoon stripped your dress off your body and peeled the panties away. Seeing the soaked panel earned another laugh. 

“I love the mess you made..” He praised, bunching your panties up and brushing them over his nose and lips. A moment later he tossed them up the bed and your dress followed. Your heels rolled across the carpet, just in view off the bed. 

Namjoon’s body melted into the bed next to you and he rolled onto his side. You were still fairly helpless as hands found you and turned you over to one side, facing him. As you gazed at Namjoon from lids raised to a pathetic minimum, he watched your face.

And he did it for a long time. Long enough your blinks started to last longer and longer. Fatigue crawled into your mind, pushing out any thoughts and making conversation an impossible and unnecessary thing. By the placid expression you kept coming back to when you could open your eyes, Namjoon didn’t mind. In fact, maybe it was that he expected this result. 

When fingers traced your temple and stroked through your hair slowly, it sealed your fate. You yawned and it ended in a fitfully weak moan. 

Namjoon caught your hand against his chest and pulled it up to his lips, kissing the curled fingers, then opening them to lay your open palm against his cheek. 

“Mine.” He murmured. 

You nodded. Or it might have been a dream. But it felt so real. Like his kisses, each one following your nose down. He kissed you deep and slow, taking his time, letting his tongue explore your mouth for a little bit before he pulled back. 

Your tongue swabbed the wetness his kiss left behind as he drew you against his front and wrapped an arm over you in an unyielding hug that was a perfect fit. It was only Namjoon’s steadily slowing breathing that you heard. Not even your own registered as you inhaled him again.

Floating in sweet, heady nothingness, you stayed silent. He did the same.

It was the kind of night you dreamed about. The kind of world he’d opened to you: expensive sheets. Massive, spanning beds. Big spaces with glittering, clean furniture, more expensive than you could calculate. 

Sitting at the top of the world with a man who might as well own it–well on his way to doing just that. But all he really wanted was you. And if there was truly ever any doubt he could get you, it ended here. Tonight. If jealousy was a motivator for him, he used it as a tool like an expert at the craft. 

Let him want and covet. Let him desire and buy it all up. He had you lock and stock.  

Except when he mumbled in the dark, minutes later. 

“There’s no one else, Y/n.” 

You couldn’t say it, but you thought it. Distant hope was eternal that he’d hear you, even in your unfocused and fuck drunk state. 

There’s no ‘someone else’. It’s just you. Always.  

#kim namjoon x y/n #namjoon x yn #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #ceo namjoon x you #CEO namjoon x reader #CEO Namjoon x reader #CEO Namjoon x y/n #CEO BTS: Namjoon #knj x you #CEO knj x you #CEO knj y/n #CEO knj x yn

[666writingcafe]

RIP MC's Ass

Scenario: On another night where Luke is staying with Michael in the Celestial Realm, the brothers, royals, and remaining Purgatory Hall residents decide that it's only right that they get to slap MC's ass after they slapped theirs. When approached with the proposition, MC has no choice but to accept.

Inspired by the following tags on @delphi-dreamin's reblog of my post about MC slapping everyone but Luke and the new characters' asses: who gets to slap mc's ass? hopefully they all take turns <- rip mc's ass but also hell yes

Also inspired by @leavesandflowers' reblog (which I didn't see until I had finished writing this post).

I hope you don't mind me using one of the tags as the title of this post. I just couldn't resist.

This will probably be a bit more NSFW than my first post addressing ass-slapping, so if any of you are not in the mindset for that kind of content, you are more than welcome to continue scrolling or look for something else to read. For everyone else, the actual post starts under the cut.

First up for the revenge ass-slapping is Belphie. He guides MC to the nearby dining table and positions them so that they're facing the group with their arms resting on the actual table. Then, he gets behind MC and waits a moment before delivering a solid hit on their butt. MC doesn't give him the satisfaction of making any noise, but that doesn't really matter to him. At least, that's the message MC gets when he whispers in their ear that he'll make them scream later that evening.

Asmo nearly skips his way over to MC and comments that they look like a student at the start of certain pornographic videos on DevilHub. Unfortunately for MC, any fantasy they might have had about this particular situation ends the moment his hand connects to their butt, for the hit--if you can call it that--is nothing to write home about. Let's just say that it's obvious that he's received a lot more ass-slaps than he's delivered.

"Allow me to give you a quick little lesson," Diavolo tells MC when he positions himself behind them. "While you didn't do too bad, you certainly could have gone harder. It all starts with a little build-up." He demonstrates this by hovering his hand over their butt and moving it back and forth a couple of times. "Then, while using your free hand to support the other person--" He does this by resting just below MC's chest. "--you bring your hand as far up as it will go and then bring it down with as much force as you can muster." The intensity of his hit makes MC yelp, although their feelings wouldn't be entirely hurt if they got to repeat the experience again.

To everyone's initial surprise, Mammon walks right past MC and seemingly leaves the room entirely. Just when they think that he's too scared to hit MC, Mammon casually strolls back in and greets MC by calling them babe before delivering a quick hit on their butt. "Nice ass," he remarks as he walks back to the group. If it weren't for the blush settling in on his cheeks, he would have come across as completely confident.

It takes a while for Levi to muster enough courage to slap MC's ass. You see, he has to conjure up a roleplay situation in his head that would justify him hitting them in this way. Once he gets in the proper headspace, however...oh boy. He growls to MC, "How dare you," before hitting them rather hard. Not as hard as Diavolo, but enough for the hit to sting. Who knows what scenario Levi created in his head? Certainly not MC.

"Perhaps I should go easy on you," Lucifer states when he approaches MC. "After all, you've been hit pretty hard by a couple of us already. I wouldn't want you to be too sore once this is all said and done." At this, he smirks. "Then again, this--" He brings his hand down swiftly on MC's ass with enough force for them to scoot the table forward. "--is a lot more fun."

Beel silently walks over to MC. He repositions the table back to its proper place before turning his attention to them. Going behind them, he squats down and examines their butt. He's more of an ass-eater than an ass-slapper, so the idea of doing this isn't exactly his cup of tea. However, everyone's watching him, so he has to do something before they start questioning or taunting him. Standing back up, he mumbles an apology to MC before quickly bringing his hand down.

Satan knows that everyone expects him to get revenge on MC for hitting his butt. However, he really doesn't want to. Since he has an aversion to people hitting him, he doesn't feel comfortable hitting anyone else just in case they have that same aversion, for he doesn't want them to suffer the way he has. He actually is the first one to back out of slapping MC's ass. MC tells him that he can get back at them some other way in order to help him feel better about the situation.

"You don't get a table," Solomon tells MC as he moves them to the center of the kitchen. "You made me nearly lose my balance, so I'm going to make sure you lose yours." Sure enough, as soon as his hand connects to their butt, MC stumbles forward and nearly faceplants on the floor. He walks back to the group with a big smile on his face, proud of his accomplishment.

Barbatos delivers his blow in a rather methodical, calculated kind of way. It's not enough to cause MC too much pain, but it is enough to get his point across. Just what one would expect from a demon butler who's been trained in this sort of thing as a means to entertain his young master by punishing troublemakers.

Finally, it's Simeon's turn. He walks around MC in a circle, trying to determine whether he should deliver an angel's blow or a devil's blow. One would be a playful hit, and the other would deliver some damage. He goes with the safe option (even though there's a part of him that wants to see just how hard he can hit MC's ass), leaving the group with a rather disappointed (but expected) ending to the whole ordeal.

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me brothers #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me side characters #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #i hope that this is along the lines of what you were thinking

[sardonic-the-writer]

:o

both is good!

both is great 👍

Alright let's get into it! For anyone wondering what this ask is about, see this post for context! And I'm going to be citing a lot of fanart for this post so make sure to go reblog the fanarts I link please. The artists deserve it, and I'll be tagging them all at the bottom!

━MARKIPLIER ☆

We all know and love Mark. Honestly not much to say here! The classic lucky flannel, FNAF playing, sex toy cooking king!! Goofy the majority of the time but knows when to get serious with people and set boundaries (which is pogchamp to the max)

━DARKIPLIER ☆

Dark is a silent and cunning man. He speaks his thoughts in riddles more often than not, so good luck trying to decipher them.

When around people he likes however (especially in more ways than one) he's more open and suave. Charming dare I say.

But don't forget he could snap your neck with a flick of his finger honey

━ANTISEPTICEYE ☆

Around a s/o or not he will still be the same hyperactive murderous Anti we've all come to know and love. (Well, at least know...)

Will pull a knife on anyone and everyone if felt the need too. And to repeat myself from a couple posts ago, I feel like he would cackle more than laugh. It just feels in character to me for some reason.

━WILFORD ☆

This man. This man <3

Call me biased but I love him. Wilford has just the right amount of murderous himbo energy as all people should.

Much like Dark and Anti however, I beg of you not to be fooled by his charms. Someone who can dismiss worm holes and create them like it's nothing should not just be written off as a pretty face.

━YANCY ☆

Golden retriever energy. He'd probably cross his arms and deny it if I said that, but he's not here is he :)

Point being, Yancy is like a big teddy bear. A teddy beat with a gun stuffed inside of it, but a teddy bear nonetheless. Kind boy. I would headcanons he's a mama's boy too, if it weren't for the, uhm, unfortunate passing away of his mom under strange circumstances eheh...

━ENGINEER ☆

Engineer Mark is the light of my life. The reason I get up in the morning. The reason I-

Well you get it. Man's is a bag of sunshine topped with sprinkles on top and more. Not only does he look adorable trying to eat his cookie, but he also is one of the most dedicated and caring people you'll meet

━ACTOR ☆

Rat bastard (/reluctantly affectionate)

I would give Actor a hug if I ever met him in real life and then bitch slap him so hard when he woke up his "luxury" clothes would be out of style

He's rude, he's mean, he's snooty, but Actor can be nice sometimes. Belive it or not heh

━ILLINOIS ☆

Now THIS is a mama's boy. Illinois gives off the vibes of someone who knows how to make really good campfire food, especially stew and/or soup.

Always there for a back rub or a quick game of rock paper scissors while hiking through mountains to get to an ancient temple. Always be prepared is the motto he lives by too heh

[Artists featured in this post. Please go check them out and reblog all their work! And if any of you want me to take down your art used in this post let me know immediately]

@bhavanti (Mark) || @the-bois-jim-and-jim (Dark) || @outoftheendgamenow (Wilford) || @antis-gauge (Anti) || @qlitchd (Yancy) || @artist-in-space (Engineer Mark) || @cldiiart (Actor) || @m-0-thmann (Illinois)

#mark x reader #markiplier x reader #mark #markiplier #dark #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier #dark x reader #anti x reader #anti #antisepticeye x reader #antisepticeye #wilford warfstache x reader #wilford warfstache #wilford #wilford x reader #yancy #yancy x reader #engineer mark x reader #engineer mark #actor mark x reader #actor #actor x reader #actor mark #illinois x reader #illinois #markipliers egos #markiplier egos x reader #egos #egos x reader

[bryhaven]

I posted 544 times in 2022

That's 544 more posts than 2021!

171 posts created (31%)

373 posts reblogged (69%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bryhaven

@onigiri-dorkk

@lecimarkisa

@warbarbie

@svetoch7

I tagged 336 of my posts in 2022

Only 38% of my posts had no tags

#rivamika - 171 posts

#levimika - 104 posts

#levi x mikasa - 82 posts

#levi ackerman - 69 posts

#anime - 67 posts

#shingeki no kyojin - 65 posts

#mikasa ackerman - 65 posts

#attack on titan - 65 posts

#mikasa x levi - 63 posts

#anime art - 46 posts

Longest Tag: 76 characters

#feeling proud that i've caught up on all the pending fics i'm trying to read

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

RivaMika and their children

Pic Crew: https://t.co/y8xodtpRkM

See the full post

85 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

#4

Welcome to my life, shipping the most hated or least preferred couples in their respective fandoms 🤣😂

RivaMika - Levi and Mikasa from Attack on Titan

FushiKugi - Fushiguro and Kugisaki from Jujutsu Kaisen

YunoElle - Yuno and Noelle from Black Clover

KacChako - Bakugo and Uraraka from My Hero Academia

ZuTara - Zuko and Katara from Aang: The Last Airbender

MeriCcup - Hiccup and Merida from How to train your dragon and Brave

DraMione - Draco and Hermione from Harry Potter

All photos are official arts and canon shots, except for the MeriCcup one - I edited that myself 😁

And a funny coincidence to note here is that, the people who ship these non-canon ships are usually the ones who are nice, friendly, and welcoming. While the people who ship the canon ships are usually the ones who are toxic and rude.

Today, I had an argument with a hater who called me dumb because of my fangirl moment on a post. 😑 And so sometimes, I think to myself. Why is it that I find myself shipping non-canon couples? What is it with me that I find other people to ship than what is already pronounced in the series?

But then again, I realize I'm not only shipping couples just for the heck of it. And just because they're canon, doesn't necessarily obligate me to ship them.

I ship and pair people when I see the romance potential in them, when their dynamics can bring fire to the story, or when they can compliment or align with each other in ways I see fit. It's not just about the lovey dovey stuff for me. It is also the understanding, cooperation, trust, functionality, and compatibility that I can see in them that makes a good and healthy ship for me.

If I see that in a canon couple, then I won't have any problems shipping them. That's all the better. But if not, then it's not necessarily a bad thing.

So to you my fellow shippers of the ships mentioned above, don't lose heart over these toxic people. Your choices and preferences don't necessarily define you. It is our attitude on how we handle our ships that does.

Nobody is perfect. But here's to hoping for a fun and healthy social media experience for everyone ~ ❤️

See the full post

180 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

#3

So I stumbled upon this and...

I almost forgot that young Mikasa always kept Eren in line. Like she always throws him around or punches him whenever he does anything stupid or foolish. Like she gets him back to his senses.

This young girl at the tender age of 9 can be this sensible, rational, and level-headed. And yet the same girl at the age of 19 goes, "What should we do about Eren?"

I know there wouldn't be a story if the rumbling wouldn't happen. But still. She could have bitch-slapped him all the way to Marley if she wanted to.

But Yams said NO. We need the toxic relationship and Stockholm Syndrome to happen here 😑

248 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

#2

Welcome to the Kageyama-verse!

302 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Yes, I watch sports.

The sports:

417 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

================================================

It's a shame that not even one of my actual works (e.g arts, edits, fics or AMVs) made it to the top 5. But I guess that's how it is.

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I hope it'll be better next year

[nandermoenthusiast]

re: your tags on your last reblog/becoming a byler truther: lol same.

like if you had asked me after I finished season four, I would have put money on s5 introducing a last-minute male love interest for Will who gets like less than a minute of screen time (similar to vicki this season).

i said there's no way the duffer brothers, who have made missteps as far as diversity representation goes, are going to write THE slowburn childhood friends-to-lovers straightbait love story of a generation.

but being on Tumblr, surrounded by Bylers, presented with the evidence, hardly exposed to the normie view . . . it makes you start to think things

but I don't want to build up my hopes. I would be really embarrassed to get queerbaited this badly again 🤣

I KNOW LIKE DUDE

I DONT KNOW WHATS REAL ANYMORE

lmao fandom is amazing, i love tumblr so much, but sometimes you start seeing things through a lens....... the thing is that it could be, the arguments and analysis say its entirely plausible, it would even explain some of the ickiest parts (for me) of the last seasons (like the whole dramatic mileven spiel based entirely on wills feelings and fueled entirely by wills belief in mike; mike being a huge no homo guy and byler growing apart for pretty much no reason and with pretty much no payoff)

But ARE they gonna do it? Are they really clever enough that this was all thought through? or is this just gonna be yet another example of fandom being way more clever than the writers

because for us to become byler truthers so swiftly when we really didnt believe at all in the first place, it doesnt just have to be a nice couple. it has to be something that would actually elevate the show and make it make sense. make it more cohesive than it already is. turn all these character moments into a huge OH SHIT slap in the face

But like. Can you imagine if they did this? Can you imagine how revolutionary it would be for a show the size stranger thing is, to actually scrap its longest lasting couple thats been a staple of the show for like 5 seasons and go SIKE, gay people win this round

People would lose their minds. It would be the most talked about show for a decade. People would tear their hair (both homophobes and gay people). And man, it would be air tight writing. So yeah not actually getting my hopes up and keeping my distance emotionally but like, narratively, it would just make all the sense in the world and i hope the duffers are half as clever as the fandom is, and that they know their own characters and story well enough to know what would create the most payoff

#🤡 #byler #stranger things #ask #tumblr pals #like after blatant smacks in the face like bellarke i cant fully believe writers will always go where it makes the most sense #but should they? i believe they should #padmedala

[katanaski]

I posted 3,609 times in 2022

That's 1,607 more posts than 2021!

1,373 posts created (38%)

2,236 posts reblogged (62%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@katanaski

@cyancherub

@prettyboykatsuki

@kweenkatsuki

@kingkatsuki

I tagged 3,314 of my posts in 2022

Only 8% of my posts had no tags

#— art.rec♡ - 115 posts

#srb - 76 posts

#— fic.recs♡ - 63 posts

#anart - 51 posts

#srb♡ - 38 posts

#king - 35 posts

#bakugou - 34 posts

#spotify - 33 posts

#bye - 31 posts

#:3 - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#to hold your back gently gight the urge to squeeze your ass infron of everyone and say "i fucking lover so imma marry her ass' 🥺💕💕💕

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hi everyone it’s been a while! This is part 1 to my piece for @kingkatsuki FROZEN HEARTS collab. I am my own beta reader so please excuse any spelling errors. My inbox is always open for constructive criticism but i am a baby so please be kind. I am scared shitless to post this since it’s been a while since I last wrote anything and i might have projected a little bit with this one. There will be dark content and heavy sex scenes on this fic so if you’re a minor PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

Please be mindful of the tags before proceeding. ENJOY!

See the full post

726 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

#4

TMI BUT....

I Was talking to my bf and he said "I wanna lick that little pussy tonight" then gave me a kiss on my cheek like he just told me the weather is nice. I been with this man for 10 years,I'm not embarrassed in the least to tell him I want to suck his cock ,slap it on my tongue and stuff lol but when he says things like this to me out of the blue??!! I'm not kidding you, I flushed like a godamn virgin. I said "Shut up" and hid my face with my hands and he goes "Don't be shy,sit on my face,ride my nose or fuck! sit on my forehead if you want,just put that little pussy on my face"

789 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

#3

Hail to the KING.

1,323 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

#2

Oh fuck.

1,682 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Katsuki literally jumps off of the roof of the highest buildings,he gets thrown through walls and fight villains with quirks way more dangerous and powerful than his. For fucks sake he trains with Kirishima while in unbreakable mode!!! He gets home to you with bruised knuckles,the occasional caked up bloody nose and little burn marks from releasing his quirk to close to his face but NEVER,never ever has he had the need for medical attention. Nothing a couple bandages and getting doted on by his pretty girlfriend for the rest of the night can't fix. Yet here you are; way past midnight at your local hospital's (E.R).The ends of your hair still wet and dripping,your big pro hero boyfriend sitting next to you with his hand in yours,lip protruding in a pout,sulking, as he gets treated for a concussion,all because he wanted to get frisky in the shower.

1,751 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #LMAOOO i rbd from myself the most #im sorrrrrryyyyyyyyy😭 #haven't been here long so just give me a sec.

[krabbysims]

Check In Tag

Thanks for tagging me @phoebe-twiddle

Why did you choose your url?

When I was picking a name for my regular account, a wanted a Pokémon pun and came up with kingkrabby. I tend to just use the same or similar usernames for everything so I slapped sims on the end and called it a day.

How long have you been on tumblr?

My oldest post on this blog is from 2015, and I know I purged a bunch of posts before that.. so about eight years?

Do you have a queue tag?

Most of my posts are queued but I don’t have a separate tag for that.

 Why did you start your blog in the first place?

LiveJournal was dying out and some of the Sims people I followed there moved to tumblr.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I love Cid.

Why did you choose your header?

It’s a pretty background that I’ve used for a long time. The blue and orange are just really nice. 

What’s your post with the most notes?

The Poppet beards at 331 notes. Second place is my spreadsheet at 178. Y’all really like those beards.

How many mutuals do you have? / How many followers do you have?

137 mutuals out of 858 followers.

How many people do you follow?

276.

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Possibly? But I probably second guessed myself and a lot of posts get deleted within the hour.

How often do you use tumblr each day? I check it multiple times a day, and really it’s no wonder I’m burning out.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won? Nope. I don’t talk with people much in general, let alone get into arguments.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts? I do feel bad. I reblog a lot of nonsims because this is where people are more likely to see it, but at the same time this is a hobby blog. I usually leave them up for a couple days.

Do you like tag games? Yeah! They’re fun. And it’s like, the only time I actually talk at people, and if I’m tagged that means people are interested right?

Do you like ask games?

Also yeah. I just don’t reblog a lot of ask games because I feel bad if I don’t send in an ask to the person I’d be reblogging from.

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? 

There’s a few people people who followed me that I was 😍 at, but I don’t want to list people out.

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Crush? No. Unless you mean in a platonic I think you’re really cool way. Then, yeah lots.

No tags, because I’ve been out of the loop this past week.

#nonsims #tagged #vivaldi crashed on me again as i was typing so this is attempt two

[many-gay-magpies]

THANK YOU FOR THE PLAYLISTS THEY ALL LOOK LIKE THEY SLAP INCREDIBLY HARD !!!!!!! I WILL STREAM THAT SHIT. also thank u for the bisexual lighting songs that is Also a fantastic list. i’ve seen your posts about synesthesia and i think the way you perceive the world is so damn cool !!! i don’t have actual synesthesia the way you do but sometimes voices really do have colors that suit them idk okay they just Do. but srsly though i love seeing you talk abt how you perceive sounds and colors it’s all so interesting!!

loona rly does have some Shit going on i sat down w my friend jack and i was like “okay can you explain at least some of this story” and he just went “okay so first off heejin is god-“ AND I WAS LIKE “WHAT???” i understand a good amount of it now but it’s rly so unhinged

i remember you reblogging gyehyeon gifsets in the very beginning !! he rly is so pretty. i may end up going the same way w e’last because choiin,,,, that man. Whew. he is . very very attractive .

i am also not entirely sure about noa?? i think i read something about him being able to control shadows/darkness and i think . it would be Very funny . if he just caused a power outage in decelis because he didn’t want to go to class that day. just boom it’s dark in all the classrooms suddenly. on a similar note, imagine an Actual power outage due to storms or something (i live in a beach town, we get outages from hurricanes frequently </3) and jino being used as a human flashlight bc he can literally light up the rooms. just fun little thoughts

- vrvr anon, who is very touched that you make all your followers feel welcome and represented even if you’re not part of that group itself <3

ehehehe ywc!! and also thank you im glad u think my rambly posts abt people and sound and colors r cool :> i like the way my mind sees things i think its pretty cool too!! its especially fun when im first getting into a group and my brain slowly starts assigning colors to the members like "okay ur gold and ur red and ur this very specific shade of purple and—"

"okay first off heejin is god" bro???? what a WILD fuckin sentence to hear first thing when being introduced to a group's lore wow. i mean i knew their lore was a LOT but i never bothered to look into exactly HOW it was a lot, i just knew that it WAS. but heejin god??? really??? good for her. its nice that u have a friend that was so willing to sit down and explain all that to u dhfjhfjf (altho to be fair id probably be the same with enha or vrvr lore lol) (kinda like your asks when you first explained the vrvr lore to me actually!!)

yea gye!! i honestly dont entirely remember the progression of how i got into vrvr, even tho it was only a couple weeks ago . like i think i mightve seen ONE gye gifset on my fyp or smth at first, then i decided to go into the gye tag to reblog more bc i thought he was pretty, then i remembered liking get away and O a lot so i figured "why not listen to their other tts?" and then came YOUR asks and now im . well. now im here HSJFBFJFB

NO SERIOUSLY WITH CHOIIN i think it went pretty similarly for me too ..... i didnt know e'last all that well but i thought he was pretty (its the expressions when he dances i swear--) and i liked their music and now im a full-blown stan with like three biases hgsjfhfjhdhf

i think ive heard abt noa maybe manipulating shadows somewhere too-- like a mutual told me abt it or something idk. that sounds like an absolutely badass and potentially terrifying power to have but also the idea of him just using it to cause power outages so he doesnt have to go to school is great-- AND YES FLASHLIGHT JINO. that is a brilliant idea with lots of potential for things being burned down by accident (like he sets the entire school library on fire or smth and shion is like "well at least we can SEE now" while hes just crying.)

<33333333

#asks #anon 📝 #vrvr anon #dark moon nonsense

[aethulean]

add tags to your reblogs of my art RIGHT the fuck now

#vel drawls #literally i dont understand how some people dont even tag fandoms #or post types #how the FUCK do you find anything on your own blogs #anyway. i do actually like feedback on my art believe it or not #obv it wouldnt make sense to comment on whats on my blog now since its all pretty old but like #if i post something new..... #just slap a couple nice tags on a reblog #send in a nice ask #i promise its not that hard and gets easier the more often you do it #bc all artists you reblog from deserve to hear something nice every once in a while #everything is so one and done with the way social medias been evolving #mindlessly reposting or liking shit without really engaging #you dont have to do it with every single post you reblog but #just because thats the way social media is changing doesnt mean you have to be a part of the problem #i feel like this sounds really preachy but. i try to add nice tags on most of the art i reblog #especially if its fandom related stuff #and it has genuinely changed the way i consume and interact with art emotionally #i find that i enjoy it a lot more and like to really savor a piece i like #and as an artist i take a little more time to look at what i like in other peoples art to sort of #gauge where im at in my art journey #where id like to be #and how it is i can start to move in that direction #idk man just practice mindfulness i guess #shits good for your brain

[batsandbugs]

The Flower Crown Chronicles

AN: Thank you everyone for all your likes and reblogs! Here's another chapter, which as always you can read over on ao3 here! I hope you enjoy it, you might just spot a familiar face!

CW: homophobic comments, racist comments, and bad language

Chapter 3: Lemonade Stand

Damian pulls up to Richard’s house – a whitewashed brick two-story building situated atop a hill – and parks along the side of the street, as the… occupied driveway provides him no room.

He turns off his car and takes a fortifying breath before exiting. The midday sun shines full above with enough heat to fry an egg on the pavement. Damian approaches his brother’s, normally nice and peaceful, suburban house with trepidation.

What in the world are his siblings thinking?

Cassandra and Kory place clothing on a rack, talking underneath a boombox playing pop music.

Stephanie chats with two elderly women in matching outfits and conning them into buying a pair of lamps.

Todd, removed only slightly from the chaos, skateboards with a couple of kids on the sidewalk, engaging in more complex tricks that would find its inevitable end with someone breaking an appendage.

Drake sits inert in a too-small lawn chair, a wide brim straw hat shading his eyes as he reads off his phone.

And Richard stands in the midst of the chaos dressed in Bermuda shorts and a fanny pack looking inordinately pleased with himself. All over the, normally clear, driveway sits a collection of odds and ends with price tags slapped onto the sides. A crowd of random people browse through said odds and ends.

Little Mar’i remains the only member of his cobbled-together family making any sense. A collection of mismatched pitchers crowd a small folding table and a stack of cookies sits on a plate next to them. Combined with a large patio umbrella, a pair of sparkly purple sunglasses, her ever-present flower crown, and a printed paper sign that reads:

SNACKS FOR SALE

LEMONADE - $2

COOKIE - $1.50

She waves at him but remains seated at her table where a line of people waits to purchase refreshments from her makeshift booth.

Richard jogs over to him before Damian can act upon the impulse to retreat to his car and escape.

“Damian! So glad you could come!” his older brother greets.

“Richard, what madness is this?”

“It’s a garage sale?”

“We are billionaires.”

Richard sighs. “Bruce is a billionaire.” Damian raises an eyebrow; his financial portfolio is plenty lucrative. Drake coughs loudly from his plastic lawn chair, but his attention remains on his phone. Richard rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe a few of us are billionaires but that’s not the point. A garage sale is more than just a chance to make money, it’s about getting rid of things you don’t need anymore and interacting with your neighbors! It’s a community bonding experience.”

“One; if you wished to rid yourself of unwanted items, donate them. Two; if you wish to bond with the community throw a gala, or - if you must be plebian - a block party.”

“Your classism is showing,” comments Drake; ironic considering the irritating interloper’s own parentage.

Damian scoffs. “Oh look, gaze upon the field in which I grow my fucks and see it is barren.”

Stephanie walks over, pocketing a ten-dollar bill. “Damian’s meme-ing? Who taught you how to meme baby bird?” She slings an arm awkwardly around his shoulder. He stands as tall as Todd and his father these days.

“Tt. I am twenty-one, fatgirl, I believe that age is sufficient enough to know how memes work without another’s instruction.” He side-steps away from his pseudo-sister letting her arm fall.

She elbows him in the side, and he prides himself on not jumping to defend himself from the innocent roughhousing the attack is meant to be. “Well, I’m almost twenty-seven so that means you need to respect your elders.”

“Ah yes, you are aging and fat, truly a marvelous combination. Tell me, when did you last go on a date?” He ducks out of the way of a much sharper jab.

“Guys, guys stop fighting,” pleads Richard. “We aren’t together a lot outside of our… extracurriculars, and I want this to be fun!”

Stephanie smiles innocently like she had not just tried to assault him. “Sure thing big bird; just wholehearted good clean family fun with no weapons, murder or arson.”

“You eliminated half of all our family’s immediate interests,” Damian drawls. “And ninety percent of Todd’s.”

Richard throws his arms into the air and stomps away in a huff, but Damian spots a smile on his older brother’s face. Stephanie sticks out her tongue, but says nothing else, retreating to the shade of the garage with Kory and Cassandra.

“UNCLE DAMI!” A small weight hits his legs and Damian barely braces himself from falling over at the force of his niece’s overexcited greeting. He reaches down to pat her head; raven locks twisted into complicated braids accompanied by a bright purple flower crown. One of Marinette’s creations.

“Hello little one, how are you today?”

She beams at him with a gap-toothed smile. “Great!” she exclaims. “Grandpa Alfie helped me bake cookies to sell and Mom helped me make the lemonade. I’ve made thirty-five dollars already.”

Damian smiles at her. “A good start, you likely already recouped your initial investment. The heat of the day will only increase from here.”

He points to her stand; several people wandering over to look at the sign. “You should go back, you have customers.”

“Thanks! But I need more lemonade. MOOOOOM!”

Kory turns away from her conversation with Cass. “Yes, my little bumgorf?”

Mar’i rushes over to her mother with the empty pitchers. “Can you go inside and make three more pitchers of lemonade?” Kory pats her on the head, takes the jugs in hand, and walks towards the house.

Mar’i runs back over to him and hugs his legs tightly. “Thanks, uncle Dami.” She rushes to her station and starts talking the ears off of her soon-to-be customers.

Damian sighs in fond exasperation; Mar’i was her mother and father’s child through and through. Personable and suborn, with a pragmatic mindset.

He wanders over to one of the tables ladened with objects and peruses through the odds and ends Kory and Richard decided to sell. Collections of old books, racks of clothes, several odd dish and plate sets, and an entire blanket full of Mar’i’s old toys. Despite the utter plebian nature of such an event, they had done a marvelous job at appealing to a large range of tastes for the common suburbanite.

“Damian?”

He freezes at the call of his name, the familiar syllables twisting under a soft accent, and a feeling of dread - and not excitement, he reprimands his inner voice - pools in his stomach. He turns around.

Marinette stands a foot away, clad in a white sundress and wide-brimmed hat. Her raven locks are drawn into two low pigtails. She carries a small wicker basket filled with a collection of odds and ends.

“M-Marinette,” he replies, hoping no one else heard his unfortunate stutter. “What brings you here? Your apartment is located in the city; quite a journey to get here.” ‘Quite a journey,’ thought Damian sarcastically. That is the best he could come up with?

“I spent the night over at Delun and Patrick’s.” She points out a couple browsing the electronics a few tables over. One is a large mountain of a man – thick beard, burly chest, dressed head to toe in black – who would not be out of place in a boxing ring or bike rally. The other, far smaller in comparison, wearing bright cherry red shorts and a button-up shirt with puppies on the fabric.

Marinette lifts the basket. “They like to weekend garage sale hunt during the summer. I decided to come with. And you? Garage sales don’t seem quite your speed,” she comments with a teasing smile.

He points at the house. “My brother lives here.” His brother’s house… which all his siblings are at… around here… right now…

Fuck.

A contingent of assassins or aliens or zombies would be great right this second.

“Ahh…” she says brightly. “It’ll be nice to finally meet them, after all you’ve said. Well… Texted.” They kept a cordial correspondence since the park two weeks ago. And by cordial, Damian meant he never texted a single person more than Marinette – although Jon came close. Although this was the first time he had seen her in person since their outing at the park. Thankfully Marinette refrained from mentioning the impulsive offer to take her out to dine, which Damian immediately regretted, the offer far too overly familiar for their short and casual acquaintance.

He shakes away his mental musing. “Hold your judgment until you converse with them, many find them intolerable once they open their mouths.”

She giggles – an action which Damian normally despises for those older than small children in the single digits – but which the French woman somehow makes bearable.

“Oh, come on, they can’t be that bad.”

“No, they are worse.”

“Hey, who ya talkin’ to over here little D’?” asks Todd approaching from the sidewalk with windswept hair and a skateboard in hand. His older brother turns to Marinette. “Sorry if he said somethin’ rude miss. We tried socializin’ him, but it never took.”

Damian rolls his eyes at the juvenile insult. “Hello Todd, did you tire of enticing small children with reckless actions? Or did your injection have a point?”

Todd rolls his eyes. “The kiddos were plenty safe. They had more protection than me even.” True. All of the kids wore helmets and knee pads. Compared to a barren Todd, who forewent his leather jacket, and was clad only in jeans and a t-shirt. “And I always have a point to make. This one is makin’ sure you aren’t buggin’ a potential customer.”

“I’m perfectly fine. Thanks,” states Marinette with a half-amused, half sarcastic look stretching across her face. “It’s not like I’m standing here and can speak for myself or anything.”

“Ouch, customer’s got claws.”

“Todd do go make a nuisance of yourself elsewhere.” Todd ranked last in Damian’s siblings he wished to introduce Marinette to. He risked a quick glance over at Drake, who so far had not moved from his seat, but had stopped reading off his phone and now not-so-subtly eavesdropped on the conversation.

Okay. Maybe Todd ranked second-to-last.

His older brother raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay, sheesh I was just tryin’ to be polite and all.”

“It’s fine Damian and I were just catching up,” says Marinette.

Damian inwardly groans. No. That would just make the annoying gnat more interested, not less.

Jason’s eyes perk up, like demented little meerkats popping from the ground. “Oh, you and Damian know each other?” He glances at Damian, years of silent fieldwork conveying a couple of concepts.

Know as in civilian interaction?

Know as in superhero civilian identity?

Or know as in ‘my mother is on the way with assassins and she’s the welcoming party?’

Damian returns the look.

‘The first one, obviously.’

Unfortunately, that does not decrease Todd’s curiosity. “Well, nice to see Demon spawn making friends. I’m just gonna go this way, you two kids have-”

“You rude little brat!” came a screeching voice from the end of the driveway.

Heads swivel to find a frumpy-looking woman in too-tight yoga pants, and a ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ t-shirt standing with her hips cocked and arms crossed on the sidewalk. Large black sunglasses do little to disguise the utter disgust on her face as she gazes down at Mar’i’s makeshift lemonade stand. Her large white SUV runs parked in front of the driveway. Mar’i – utterly unruffled – stares back with a Pennyworth patented eyebrow raise as the woman grows more irritated.

Damian tenses, ready to jump to his niece’s defense. Whoever this woman thinks she is, she vastly overestimated her ability to manage anything his family can throw at her. Drake already has his phone’s camera flipped on and ready to record the interaction.

Richard, in full-on protective mode, jogs over to the stand. “What seems to be the problem over here?” he asks, placing himself between the irate woman and Mar’i.

The woman’s personality shifts in an instant. A sickly-sweet smile replaces her sneer. “Oh, I just wanted to let this girl know it’s illegal to sell food and drinks without a permit, and she was rude to me. The manners children these days have,” she giggles, high and nasally.

Damian exchanges a glance with Todd.

This dumbass has no clue.

“Well, I’m sure my daughter was perfectly respectable,” responds Richard, flat and unimpressed with the woman’s flirtatious simpering.

Two red blotches bloom on the woman’s cheeks as she stutters, “Oh, uh, well I don’t- I didn’t-” She bounces her head back and forth between Ricard and Mar’i like she’s trying to make sense of a complicated puzzle. Damian rolls his eyes, it’s not like they look so dissimilar; with the exception of Mar’i inheriting her mother’s skin.

“And this is my house and my garage sale, and I said it was fine for my kid to sell lemonade. Like any other normal kid during the summer.” Richard’s voice is just on the side of polite reprimand, rather than pure condescension.

“He’s trying to reason with her,” whispers a voice in his ear. Damian barely restrains jumping at Marinette’s comment. “That won’t work. She’s Delun and Patrick’s neighbor and happens to be the absolute worst.”

The woman continues to bluster. “Well- well, it’s still illegal.”

“According to what?” Richard asks incredulously. “Are you seriously raising a fuss about a six-year-old selling lemonade and cookies?”

Mar’i shook her head. “She said I had to take it down or she would call the police dad.”

Marinette scoffs. “She would too, she called the police because Delun hung rainbow banners during June.”

“This woman picked the wrong family to mess with,” Todd grumbles, stepping forward to join Richard. Damian shoots out a hand to stop him.

“Your interference will not alleviate the situation. Allow Richard to handle her,” he chides. Todd sneers but stays put.

Richard laughs “The police? HA! Yeah right!”

The woman’s face reddens even further. “Ugh! Do you even know who I am?”

Richard raises an unimpressed brow. “No.”

She huffs, puffing up her chest and tilting her nose into the air with haughty arrogance she could not at all carry off. “I’m Jessica Merope-Laverne the Hidden Fall’s HOA assistant secretary.”

“Okay… And?”

She stomps her foot on the ground like a petulant child. “And if you don’t make her take this down right now, I’ll not only call the police but also write a report about you breaking your HOA contract.”

“Come on Jessie lighten up,” says one of the men Marinette came with, the big one. “It’s just a lemonade stand, and you’re the one causin’ a fuss.”

She whips the sunglasses off her face and directs her red-hot glare at the two men. “Well, if it isn’t the Hamada-Cordons,” she sneers, making her already over-makeup face even more unpleasant. “Why are you out and about interacting with normal people? Shouldn’t you be reveling in your perversions elsewhere?”

“Sorry, hun,” drawls the shorter man in a heavy southern accent. “We only do our ritual sacrifices to the gods the second weekend of every month. We had just enough time to squeeze in some garage-saleing today. Where were you at the last bonfire, got lost on your broom on the way over?”

“They hate her,” Marinette whispers with a barely contained laughter.

“I think the sentiment is returned,” he responds.

“Go burn on a stake,” Merope-Laverne snipes.

“Why don’t you shove one up your-” the larger man slaps a hand over the smaller one’s mouth and smiles blandly.

“Ugh,” she sniffs pulling out her phone. “I will not be bullied by children and leftist sheeple into standing down. This is in clear violation of neighborhood policy, and I’m sure the county has rules against it too. I am not in the wrong here, I’m just trying to maintain clear order and rules.” She grabs her phone from her handbag.

“I think I have a plan,” whispers Marinette.

“Wait,” Damian calls, but she flutters away leaving the lingering scent of lemongrass and citrus in her wake.

“What?” questions Todd. “You’re gonna let her go?”

Damian shoots him a piercing glare. “Shut up,” he mutters.

Marinette saunters to the driveway’s end, pushing past Richard and Mar’i, and stands in front of them like a tiny, but mighty, shield.

Marinette’s smile is thin and mocking as she says, “Jessica, poule mouillée, lovely to see you again.”

“Did she just call her a wet chicken?” breathes Todd. Drake looks ready to die over on his lawn chair from holding in laughter.

“Marnie,” sneers Merope-Laverne, clicking off her phone.

“Marinette,” she corrects without blinking an eye.

“Whatever. Get lost the adults are having a real conversation here.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “No, you’re having… oh how do you Americans call it? Ah! Yes. A “hissy fit”. So, why don’t you do all of us and yourself a favor and just leave, before you embarrass yourself even more.”

Merope-Laverne turns an even brighter shade of red, and spits, “Why would I listen to the French hussy of those two queer-ass fags. I’m just trying to be a good American citizen and do my part to keep the neighborhood…” she looks over Mar’i with a disgusted glance that sends Damian’s blood boiling. “Civilized.”

Damian’s entire family stands at the ready to attack this woman with no questions asked. Her comments crossing the fucking line. Damian palms a small knife in hand ready to pounce. Further up the driveway, the smaller man Marinette arrived with struggles to break out of the larger one’s hold. Although the larger man’s face similarly looks apocalyptic.

But Marinette only smiles blandly, and shifts, ever so slightly, on her feet. It raises her shoulders and projects out an air of confidence and… power. The woman subconsciously backs up.

“Do watch your language, there are children about,” Marinette chides, her voice colder than ice. “But if you’re concerned about crimes sooo much, maybe you should worry more about the bigger one happening right now.” She gestures to Merope-Laverne’s car which is gaining speed down the hill into the empty cul-de-sac below. “Your car is about to run a stop sign.”

The woman turns with a gasp and immediately starts chasing after her car with a hiccupping gait. She runs beside it, unable to open any of the doors as it makes its way down the hill and out of sight.

“How… unlucky,” Marinette comments lightly with a serene smile. The entire driveway falls into shocked silence.

Damian stares.

Blinks once.

Then twice.

Todd slaps a hand on his shoulder, and it is only through years of training Damian does not jump. “Demon brat you might wanna close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

He slams his mouth shut with an audible click, shooting a hateful glare at Todd. “Do be silent,” he grits.

His older brother shrugs, a shit-eating grin adorning his annoying face. “Sure, little D’. But just so ya know, that chick seems way out of your league.” Damian ignores the ridiculous implications and stomps over to the growing crowd around Marinette and Mar’i closely followed by Todd

“Miss Marinette!” Mar’i calls out in a high excited scream. His niece rushes the woman, who bends down and swings the little girl up into her arms. Marinette easily holds the girl up with one arm and uses her other hand to bop the girl’s nose.

“Mademoiselle Mar’i! Oh, what wretched things that woman said, are you alright?”

Mar’i giggles and nods her head. “Yep! You sure showed her didn’t you!”

Marinette laughs, “All in a day’s work ma petite fleur!”

Richard rushes over. “Mar’i you can’t just hug random people!”

Mar’i frowns, and a panicky dread fills Damian’s chest. “But Dad Miss Marinette isn’t random. She’s Uncle Dami’s friend.”

Richard’s eyes climb high on his face. “Oh!” Damian scowls at his questioning glance, and the irritating man just smiles like a cat with a canary and turns back to Marinette with an extended hand. Marinette shakes it firmly.

“Well, nice to meet you I’m Dick, Damian’s older brother. And you already know my lovely daughter Mar’i.”

“Dad she’s the one who made my crowns!” She points to the one on her head.

“And what wonderful crowns they are princess,” Mar’i jumps over to her father’s arms, and he catches her without hesitation. He glances back at Marinette with a sheepish grin. “No seriously, they’re wonderful crowns, Mar’i never stops wearing them. They’re sturdy.”

Marinette blushes, ducking her head. “Thank you. I make them myself.”

“Excuse me, comin’ through y’all.” A whirlwind mess of limbs and color elbows his way into the crowd. “Oh hun,” calls the smaller man Marinette arrived with. He throws two lanky arms around Marinette’s shoulder and smacks a kiss against her temple. “That was positively g-lorious!” He exclaims with a sing-songy tune. “You sure showed that bitc-” he spares a quick glance and Mar’i who just giggles. “-bitter old hag who’s boss. No one messes with the Hamada-Cordons!”

“Delun, you know I’m not related to you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh hush, hun, you are family in our hearts and that counts just as much.”

The larger man – Patrick, Damian decides – walks over with a smile and pats Marinette on the shoulder. “Good going, little lady,” he says gruffly.

“Yeah, that was serious Matilda-level shenaniganry right there,” comments Jason with a smirk. “I approve.”

“What’s a Matilda?” asks Mar’i.

Todd and Marinette gasp in synchrony.

“What’s a Matilda? Golden boy why haven’t you shown her Matilda?”

Marinette presses a hand to her chest. “Quelle honte! Quelle parodie! Oh, ma petite fleur, you’ve been deprived!”

“Okay, okay, sheesh!” Richard pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’ll be next on the list I promise.”

“Three pitchers of the lemonade, as requested!” calls Kory’s strong voice, breaking through the gathered crowd of people. She emerges balancing the three full pitchers on a platter. “What in the star fields is going on here?”

Mar’i wiggles out of her father’s arms and runs over to her mother. “Mom! A woman tried to get me to shut down my lemonade stand, and she said she would call the police, and dad tried to make her leave, and then Miss Marinette – she’s the one that made my flower crowns – she made her car roll down the hill like a Matilda! But I don’t know what a Matilda is?”

“Oh my, it seems I have missed a most glorious battle.” She raises an inquisitive eye at her husband, who shrugs with a look that reads, ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

“Kory, darlin’,” says Delun. “It was Jessie.”

Kory frowns. “Oh, that irritating zarbnarf! I am so sorry I was not here to defend you my little bumgorf.”

Mar’i shrugs, as in the way small children are often wont to do, the incident was mostly forgotten now due to the many people talking to and fawning over her. “It’s fine mom.”

“Wait,” says Todd, flicking his eye back and forth between Kory and Hamada-Cordons. “You all know each other?”

“We ran into Kory and Mar’i at the pool last summer and got to talking about weapons. We told her about our ax-throwing range in our backyard,” explains Patrick. “And invited her over to test it out.”

Kory beams. “And what magnificent fun it was!” Then snarls her nose. “Until Jessica interceded upon our enjoyment and threatened to report us!”

Delun scoffs. “Not that she could’a done a darn thing. We registered the range and put in writin’ long before she moved in.”

“Okay folks, the show’s over, no need to crowd up here!” calls Stephanie. “If you want refreshments, I’m sure Mar’i can take care of you.” Her loud voice and Todd’s menacing stance, disperse the crowd, thinning out everyone who was not an extended Wayne family member, or Marinette and her friends.

Marinette slides back over to Damian’s side. “I like your family. They seem…”

“Overbearing? Insufferable? Meddlesome?”

Marinette shakes her head. “Genuine.”

“Tt. Nothing but genuinely annoying perhaps.”

She smiles, “Ah, but doesn’t that mean they love you enough to relax around you? A perfect façade seems nice upon the surface, but once one digs deeper there is nothing there but hot air. Genuine people are imperfect people, and that’s what makes them worth knowing and loving.”

The words strike him in the chest. A long-forgotten echo rises unbidden in his mind.

‘Can you not love me for who I am? Not what you want me to be?”

‘No. That’s not my nature. I’m too much of a perfectionist.’

“I- I- suppose there is an ounce truth to that.” Damian buries his mother’s sharp words ignoring the burn of abandonment and longing in his chest. He should not entertain such thoughts.

At least, not in the light of day.

“Miss Marinette! Uncle Dami! Here!” Mar’i, queen of convenient distraction, appears carrying a plate of cookies balancing atop two glasses of lemonade. Damian rescues the precariously placed cookies while Marinette snags the drinks.

“Merci beaucoup, ma petite fleur,” coos Marinette.

“Da rien!” beams Mar’i before running back to her stand. Marinette blinks, a delighted smile blooming across her face at his niece’s response.

“She wished to converse in your own language. I helped teach her a few basic sayings,” he says. Mar’i did not gain her mother’s particular… ability to gain linguistic talents, nor if she had would it be appropriate for a six-year-old to go kissing people on the lips. He was not fluent in French, but his knowledge reached conversationally and certainly enough for the niceties Mar’i wished to convey.

“Comme c'est attentionné de vous deux,” Marinette says with a sweet smile.

Damian’s cheeks feel warmer than before. It must be the heat.

“It- It was of no hardship,” he mumbles, taking a sip of lemonade to avoid opening his traitorous mouth again. What was it about this woman that made him lose all sense of caution?

Before he can think too deeply on the topic, Stephanie and Cassandra approach.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Thanks for defending our little Mar’i,” says Stephanie, her hand darting out and grabbing one of the cookies from his plate, he was too slow to stop her. “Was that telekinesis?” she asks, stuffing the cookie into her mouth.

“Stephanie,” he hisses. “You can not simply ask-”

His pseudo-sister waves him away. “I’m just being friendly demon-brat, she used her powers in public and I’m curious.”

“That’s our little witch!” calls Delun, still nearby in a conversation with Richard and Kory.

“Not a witch!” Marinette calls back cheerily.

“You can make wards hun!”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “So can anyone else with an open energy connection and thirty minutes on the internet.” She turns to Stephanie with a shy smile. “It’s magic, in a way.”

Stephanie scrunches her face. “So, what? Like a meta?”

Marinette shrugs her shoulders. “Hmmm… maybe. I never looked too much into it. Meta abilities are… looked down upon in France.” Her tone makes it quite clear what she thinks of that. Damian’s knowledge of what the Europeans do with their meta-humans beyond cursory interactions with the Justice League is limited.

He shall have to correct that gap.

“There’s a Meta-Human Alliance chapter here in Gotham,” offers Cassandra, her voice low and melodious. Must be one of her good days to speak out loud.

The French woman smiles tightly. “Thank you, although I think I’ll pass. It’s just a bit of magic-infused luck.” Damian represses a scoff, although from Marinette’s side glance it seems he was not successful.

“You can see what your brother thinks of that. You can be boring too and call it statistical probability manipulation.”

Stephanie tilts her head. “And how does that translate to making a car roll down a hill?” Stephanie may be the one asking the question, but every single one of his siblings is paying attention, even if they are moderately decent at looking like they’re minding their own business.

Marinette, seemingly oblivious to the oncoming interrogation, perks at the question, her eyes lighting up. “You see it’s not impossible Jessica’s car would roll down the hill after her semi-loose gear stick slipped from park to drive; merely improbable. I manipulate the energies around such events to give them a higher possibility of happening.”

Damian raises a brow at the explanation. He certainly never forgot Marinette’s little demonstration at the festival, but he thought it mostly related to trick shots and coin flips. This sounds… larger.

“How can you make sure you manipulate the right energies?” asks Cassandra.

Marinette’s smile is wry. “Lots and lots of practice. Along with the luck comes a heightened sense of pattern recognition. I know what will cause certain chains of events to happen, as well as how people tend to react.”

“Though good heavens know we had to teach ya how to direct it,” interjects Delun, walking over. “Poor girl came to that first crochet meetin’ and Patty said she was leakin’ magic all over the place.”

Marinette flushes pink across the tops of her cheeks and rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, I know. I was useless. I never really had formal instruction before I met Patrick and Delun, they helped me in honing energy direction and the pattern recognition.”

“That must make you a very good chess player,” muses Cassandra, always eager to suck others into her never-ending quest for a chess partner that will not run at the sight of her.

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never played,” admits Marinette, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“Pity,” says Cassandra, with a smile similar to a canary-catching cat. “I can teach you some time if you want?”

“Back to the powers,” interjects Stephanie, cutting off Cassandra’s attempt to ensnare her newest victim. “By that explanation, you could manipulate people too?”

Delun gasps, clutching his chest. “Little miss sunshine? Goodness personified? Yeah right, you have a higher likely hood crusin’ through Spaghetti Junction during rush hour on a Friday.”

Marinette sighs, exhausted and annoyed. “That’s sweet Delun, but technically, yes. I could manipulate a person.”

Damian’s stomach drops at the admission.

What if-?

Had she-?

Are these feelings-?

Marinette continues, “But the amount of energy, time, and sheer force of will, to manipulate another person is hardly worth the effort – besides I manipulate statistical probabilities. Inert objects don’t tend to move or fluctuate, so the amount of energy used to guide them in a different path is minimal and quite stable. A person though?” Marinette scoffs. “Do you know how many actions, thoughts, and emotions a single person has in a day? Never mind their interactions with others. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions. An object? A couple hundred at the high end. The headache it causes to directly manipulate a person’s actions; blinding.”

“Besides, only the lowest of magic users would go against will like that,” says Patrick, coming up beside his husband. “Little Miss isn’t a black witch, and neither are we.”

Marinette shrugs, but Damian notices a tense shift of her movement as if the woman is holding onto her emotions with razor-thin control. “Anything is possible if you feed enough power into it, and the situation is dire. I’ve never done it myself, but I probably could if there was no other way.” She smiles wryly. “Not that I would be involved in a situation which would require that kind of force.”

“Not that I’m saying you would, but sweetheart,” Delun coos, “This is Gotham.”

“I’m trying to be optimistic,” Marinette sighs. “Stop ruining it.”

“This is the city where optimism goes to die a swift and painful death via vis a crime rate higher than America’s obesity epidemic,” says Stephanie, with a blinding smile. “Perfect for family vacations and relaxing getaways.”

Marinette grins, sharp and predatory. In her white dress and pigtails, the sight should not seem terrifying, but it is. “That’s why I carry brass knuckles and pepper spray on me at all times. It’s much easier to kick a person’s ass the old-fashioned way than play around with luck.”

Stephanie barks out a laugh, brown eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. “I like the way you think, girlie. You fight?”

“Whenever I get the chance, but I’ve lacked a good sparring partner lately.” She smiles at Patrick. “You’re great for boxing practice, but I’m missing the chance for kickflips, and grapple holds.” Patrick shrugs, but he does not appear offended.

Meanwhile, Damian tries suppressing the panic in his stomach at his sisters’ hungry grins directed at the smaller woman. “I have offered before,” he reminds her. “If you would like-”

Stephanie slides up to Marinette and places an arm around her. “Ignore him. Do you want a real fight? Well, Cass and I are always looking to add someone new into the rotation!”

“Well- I- uh do not think-” Damian sputters, losing control of the situation.

“Come on Damian, you said it yourself I would get along with them!”

Cassandra’s eyes brighten as she joins Stephanie and their newly captured prey. “Oh, did he?” she asks. “Damian is a great judge of character. We’ll get along swimmingly,” she grins as she and Stephanie lead Marinette away and interrogates her about her fighting routine.

Marinette flashes him a brief mouthed ‘sorry’ before becoming fully engulfed in the tumultuous current of his sisters’ attention.

“Sorry kiddo, that was a fight you were bound to lose,” comments Delun with a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “Come on Patty, I wanted a chance to look in the garage. Looks like Nettie will be busy for a while.” The men walk away leaving Damian alone.

Damn.

He grips the plastic cup full of watered-down lemonade and takes a small sip. Still refreshing. He listens to the laughter coming from the three women with building dread. The stares from the rest of his family land on him with undisguised noisiness.

In most situations, Damian would solve this problem like he does all his others.

Vicious purging at the source for all non-necessary complications.

Marinette is a complication.

He risks another glance. Marinette’s face is bright and animated as she talks rapidly to Stephanie and Cassandra, her hands flapping in exaggerated movements to accompany her explanation. The sight, as simple and mundane as it is, tightens his chest in an unknown feeling. He does not like unknowns.

But she is seemingly one he can not bring himself to walk away from.

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@pepelachanel @hammalammadamdam

#damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #damimari #mlb crossover #ml x dc #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne #damianette #daminette #flower crown chronicles #lemonade #these two idiots

[astromaki]

part 3 of second choice ; ceo!shoto todoroki x gn!reader (x ceo!katsuki bakugo) (1617 words)

part 1. part 2. (previous) part 4.

tw ; angst, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, degradation, divorce, mention of alcohol, bad language, slightly suggestive ?

EXTRA INFOS ;; all the characters are aged up obviously (they are 30 here), the point of view of this third part is from shoto todoroki !

confrontation. [7 : 16 pm]

a week has passed since he came home that night drunk. that he had begged momo to stay with him. that he had accidentally seen those divorce papers crumpled by your hands.

momo had seen them too that night, and yet she and shoto had not commented on them. good, he wasn't in the mood anyway.

it had become almost official, even the media had it on their front pages. "one of japan's richest couples on the verge of divorce?", "billionaire todoroki single again?" "y/n, will the heir.ess of their father's company return to being a lawyer?"

he would have liked to say that he cared what you thought about it. if you cried, screamed, were you hurt ? but that would be lying, you were the least of his worries.

and then, wasn't it what he wanted from the beginning ?

that you would end up hating him so much that you would leave him. that he could finally be free of the weight that you represented every day.

and yet his signature was still missing.

"you can't even love your partner properly, and now i hear through the media that a divorce is on the way ? you're pathetic son. i knew i should have married them to touya. " enji's heart-attack voice echoed terribly through the phone, which made shoto sigh. he was even pretty sure he could hear it from across town.

"calm down." shoto said in an annoyed tone. "your marriage isn't a success either, so keep your remarks to yourself. bye. "

"you idiot, don't you dare hanging up on me. i don't care if you can't satisfy your s/o, i don't care if they feel bad about this arranged marriage either. but y/n y/l/n comes from a very famous lawyer's family, so get a divorce and the amount of money you have to give will be huge. "

"i manage them, it will not be a problem. i have to go now. "

the young man finally returned to your room, looking exhausted, his tie loosened and ready to down a few glasses of whiskey.

however, he was surprised to see you. dressed in a beautiful versace dress/suit, you were glowing. well no, he meant that you looked... good.

though, it was the first time he took the time to look at you. to admire you.

the young man finally met your indifferent gaze through the mirror you were standing in front of. that gaze that was so joyful and sparkling at the beginning of your marriage, full of hope to transform this purely financial union into a love marriage.

but that look, devoid of emotion, almost made shoto, Japan's most ambitious ceo, doubt himself. almost.

"i'm surprised you're still using my card to splurge. how much is this one? $1000 ? $2000 ?"

he was tired, exhausted. nut the truth is he was in the mood to be a pain in the ass tonight.

"$ 8,330. plus the $800 pair. " you replied coldly.

your answer was like a slap in the face to your husband. not because of the price, he didn't give a fuck about this.

but this tone right there. it wasn't like you. you were normally so gentle, patient even with the worst of the crap he put you through. that naive kindness that made him want to vomit was completely gone. he didn't expect such a turn of events.

"so you decide to divorce me, but first you want to empty my bank account? you're exactly as I imagined." his look that used to reflect nothing but fatigue was now full of contempt for you.

you finally faced him. shit, he couldn't help but find you beautiful.

"here todoroki, let's talk about the divorce. " you began, quietly walking over to the cabinet and pulling out a stack of documents. "i've signed it, sign it, and i'll take it to my lawyers first thing in the morning.

he snatched them out of your hand and threw them across the room. you didn't even flinch, you even held his gaze. poker face.

a loud silence fell between you. a long silence, uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. heavy and light. sensible and meaningless.

"what's all this about ? who put you up to this ?"

a wry laugh escaped your lips. your new behavior puzzled shoto. he loved and hated what he had in front of him. a challenge.

"you think i need someone to make me realize that i deserve better than an asshole like you ? fuck, let me laugh. "

your hand went to retrieve a piece of paper from your purse. and it was slammed hard against his chest. bakugou’s business card.

he found your face inches from his, your warm breath gently caressing his cheeks. a scent of whiskey filled his nostrils. you were not sober.

"how many drinks are you on? " he asked quietly.

"so now do you care if i downed a whole bottle or not ? oh please shut up. because now that you mention it, your friend bakugou katsuki may have hired me. to be his company's business lawyer. isn't that funny? "

you turned your back on him, unaware of the state you'd put him in. but damn, it was like he'd just been slapped in the face. nausea took over his whole body, his legs became heavy and weak in few seconds only. and he knew damn well it wasn't fatigue.

so you were leaving him, but on top of that you were going to work for his number one competitor ?

he didn't know what hurt more, the knowledge that bakugo had won one of the most competent lawyers in the field or that you were leaving him for him ? was he jealous ? surely not, it was another feeling that repulsed him. he didn't even know.

"have you lost your tongue todoroki ?"

todoroki ? since when did you call him by his last name ? where are the darlings or my heart that used to annoy him so much ?

you finish getting ready, now wearing your long jacket. he had lost his tongue indeed, he didn't know what to say to you. what to do.

y/n y/l/n, you had succeeded in putting your husband to the wall.

but it was only for a moment. he quickly, too quickly, pulled himself together. his usual irritated expression returned.

"you don't see that he's using you to get ahead of me ? i thought you were smarter than that. "

he took a step forward, slowly but surely. like a predator approaching its prey.

"he doesn't care about you. just like no one has ever cared about you, not me, not him and not your bourgeois family. that's why they put you in a loveless marriage so easily. "

a mirthless laugh escaped from his lips.

"y/n, this bastard doesn't give a damn about you. "

you tried to move towards him, ready to slap him, but the alcohol made you capsize and stumble on your carpet. he arrived just in time to support you with his muscular arms. an annoyed sigh resounded in the large room when your sob reached his ears.

nevertheless, a petty smile stretched his lips. there you were again, the fragile and unassertive y/n finally in his arms.

that bakugo had managed to turn your brain inside out. yet shoto knew you better than anyone else. he knew you. better than you knew yourself. you were that puzzle he had managed to decipher long ago.

"that's not true. kacchan wouldn't do that...", you whisper.

"you know i'm right, sweetheart. you know i'm the only one who's honest with you. my love for you is all you need. "

his muscular hand gradually, peacefully, came to caress your back to take off the buttons of your dress. his lips came to meet yours, to draw you into a long, languid, unsentimental kiss. your lips asked for more, your whole soul asked for more of shoto. more of this man for whom your heart never stopped beating. even if his was vibrating for another woman.

you wanted to feel his lips making love to you sensually, sincerely.

you just wanted him to love you for one night. one fucking night.

shoto was ecstatic. he could already see himself opening a bottle of champagne with his father, to celebrate the divorce that would never happen. tonight, shoto had brought out his best acting skills. millions were at stake. he had brought out his best kiss. he had never touched you like that. so gently, so carefully.

he had never called you by any affectionate nickname.

he has done too much to keep you around.

and you were drunk, not stupid.

you finally stood up, moving away from him, reluctantly. nothing he said was true. from his love for you, to his accusations against katsuki.

awkwardly, you put your dress/suit back on properly.

"i have a meeting with my future employer mr. bakugou tonight. i'll be late. don't wait for me, i'll sleep at the hotel tonight, with your card. "

a red color came to his cheeks. anger ? sadness ? jealousy ?

he had never seen you so determined, so proud. and that attracted him. he was going to lose millions, no matter what. but it was you who was going to escape him. for that bastard bakugou katsuki.

the nice little y/n was no longer shoto todoroki's.

AHHH omg sorry sorry i told you i can't do a fluffy end!! >< (comments and reblogs are appreciated <3)

🔖 tag list ; @nveusii @angelofthorr @missmolliemoo @jazzylove @loki-an-idiot @deepestranchgoopdeputy @mhasimp666 @shotorozu @chscklvr @devilsbooksworld @marshmallow12345 (ones in bold cannot be tagged)

#bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x you #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x y/n #shoto todoroki x you #shoto x you #shoto x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki angst #bnha shoto #bakugou x reader #bakugo x self insert #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Bratty

Summary: Chris didn’t like being ignored.

Pairings: Jealous!Daddy!Chris x Black!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, arguing, reader slaps Chris, slight sugar daddy vibes, swearing, jealous Chris, PR stunt, wall sex, oral (female and male receiving), reverse cowgirl, riding, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, creampie, name calling

Tagged: @titty-teetee , @harrysthiccthighss , @iam-laiya , @mariahthelioness29 , @night-of-the-living-shred , @liquorlaughslove , @blackmissfrizzle , @stargazingfangirl18, @whiskey-cokenfanfic, @olyvoyl , @zaddychris

(A/N: Knocking out these WIPs by combining some WIPs. Like, reblog, enjoy and all that jazz.)

No one knew about your relationship with Chris. He was the hot guy that every girl around you wanted. Girls were always trying to shoot their shots. You hadn’t done much, but ignore him a few times when you started being friends with his brother’s boyfriend and somehow that ended up with him asking you out. From then on, you’d been a part of a very intense sexual relationship.

Your friends didn’t have an idea. Sure, they knew you were at the very least fucking around with someone. Somehow you managed to get away with not disclosing who anytime they bugged you about it. Your friends were great, but you couldn’t exactly trust them to not tell everyone and their mothers. It wasn’t even like they’d be doing it maliciously, but the scandal it’d be if people had found out that you and Chris had ended up together would be astronomical. 

This is why you were able to save face when you saw another one of those publicity stunts with him and some actress. They were Hollywood’s hottest couple. Gag. You couldn’t even go to the grocery store without seeing pictures of them all over at checkout.

Whatever.

You were Y/N L/N. You didn’t need him anyway. You didn’t have time for fuckboys. No matter how good looking or rich. No matter how good he dicked you down in bed.

So, why did it hurt so bad. 

Again, it’s not like Chris was your boyfriend. Did you even have the right to be upset? If anything, it hadn’t been more than a booty call. You wiped your tears quicker than they could fall because why the hell were you even crying. He wasn’t even worth it. Deep down you kind of knew this was always going to happen. The man was a commitment-phobe. If he really wanted to be with you, he would’ve made it official months ago.

So, you tried to not think about him. Even if you had to see him every time you went to the grocery store. Even tuning out your mutual friends. Then threw out those stupid forever flowers he’d bought you. You could pawn the jewelry, at least. Maybe give the clothes to charity. 

On second thought.

You’re keeping the clothes. Those Chanel bags were staying firmly in your closet. Someone could pry those Christian Louboutin heels out of your cold dead hands. Okay so maybe you were more like a sugar baby than anything else. You needed to stop trying to figure out what you even were because who cares fuck him.

Either way it still stung. 

Fuck it. You could go on a Chris Evans diet. You didn’t need him.

--

Hey baby I’m back home

Let’s get dinner tonight

He’d texted you as you were getting ready. It’d been almost a month since you’d heard from him. Maybe his girlfriend dumped him or his agent told him he didn’t have to play along with what you were sure was a stunt. It didn’t matter. You were no one’s second best and you had a date tonight. With someone that actually wanted to not play games.

Your palm itched because you wanted to text him back so bad. Wanted to tell him to leave you the fuck alone. Except you were trying to go cold turkey. Instead you muted his contact before finishing your hair. 

The dress you were wearing was one he’d bought you and so were the shoes you wore. Not that he cared, but it felt more fun to use the stuff he brought when going out with someone else. You knew that it would have at least gotten under his skin. Your date was some guy your bestie kept trying to push on you.

He was cute enough. Made good money. In the back of your head, though, not that you would ever say it out loud he was no Chris. You weren’t sure any other man would be able to do you like he did. To fuck you so hard that you forgot your own name. How he’d get you into all these crazy positions. How he spanked you and made you call him Daddy. 

You shook those thoughts away. You didn’t need him.

Anyway, you’d gone on like two dates with Devin. He was okay. You liked him so far. You weren’t really expecting much to come out of it, but you were having fun with him. At least he texted you back in a timely fashion. 

There was a knock on the door so you went to grab it seeing your date on the other side. 

You’d been trying this new thing. Where you didn’t kiss to quickly or have sex to soon. Which you’d told Devin your boundaries right off the bat. Dinner was nice. He was cute enough anyway.

Your mind kept wandering to thoughts of him which was annoying. You didn’t want to think about him. You wanted to feel like you were living in a post Chris Evans world.

When he took you home you could tell he was trying to kiss you on the lips. You turned your head at the right moment so he got your cheek. You weren’t surprised that he tried to.

As you were getting ready to take off your shoes and retreat to your room, happy that your roommate was spending the night at her boyfriend’s so you could spend the rest of the night walking around naked there was a knock on the door. You groaned as you looked through the peephole and then backed away seeing the man you were trying to avoid on the other side.

Your stomach turned and suddenly you wanted to throw up your dinner. Maybe if you didn’t make any noise he’d go away. “Y/N, I know you’re in there,” his Boston accent was so thick.

You took out your phone, going to his contact. Seeing all the messages. Then the final one.

I’m coming over

He’d of course been in your apartment before. Sometimes when your roommate had gone to visit her family or stayed with her boyfriend, he’d come over. You’d end up having sex all over just because you could.

“Open the door!” He said. You didn’t want your neighbors to think you are crazy. So, you did. Anything to get him to stop.

“Are you crazy?” You asked in a quiet voice. “My neighbors can probably hear you.”

He pushed passed you with his face all red. “Who the fuck was that guy?” He asked.

Your heart started to race. Stick up for yourself. Like you do in your head. Tell him you’re tired of his shit and tell him to leave.

You took a deep breath before finally opening your mouth to speak. You could do this. “I was on a date,” you finally said with your head held high.

Chris quirked his eyebrow. “What the fuck? Why?”

You shrugged still trying to maintain your composure. Cool, calm, and collected. “Why not? You go on dates with other women. I haven’t heard from you in a month and you think you can make demands?”

He clenched his jaw, scoffing at your words. “That’s work and you know it.”

“Did work tell you to fuck her? To ignore me for a month.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t know shit, Y/N.”

“I don’t care. I saw you! Every time I went on Twitter. Every time I went to the fucking grocery store, I had to see stupid tabloids with your stupid faces on it.”

He pursed his lips and sighed. “Look-“

“Did work tell you to wait a fucking month before texting me? Oh, hey let’s go out for dinner,” you mocked him. “After ignoring me for a fucking month! Like fuck off!”

“And look you hopped on another guy’s dick quickly like a fucking slut.”

You’d never laid your hands on someone before, you always felt like you were above that but you gasped and before your brain could even think you’d already slapped his face. Tears welled up in your eyes when you realized what you’d done. “I’m so so so sor-“

But before you could finish what you were saying, he cut you off with a kiss. He slammed you into the wall before lifting you up with one arm and wrapping his hand around your neck. “Think you’re in charge here. I was about to apologize, but you just couldn’t shut the fuck up, huh.”

He pushed up your dress so you were completely exposed to him. It didn’t take him very long for him to undo his pants. Before you knew it, he was pushing into you. Your head lolled back as he started fucking you. Not even giving you the chance to push him away.

You hated how good he felt. How his thick dick made you not even care anymore. You just wanted it. Wanted him. Needed him to fuck you.

“Fuck, Daddy,” you moaned.

“That’s right. I’m your Daddy.” He hissed. “I’m your fucking Daddy.”

You bit your lip as he moved you into the wall. Like he was about to fuck you through it. “Right there,” you gasped as he started fucking into your spot. Right where he knew you liked it. “Don’t fucking stop.”

“See you naughty little slut. You fucking like it.” He was pounding into you.

You nodded trying to move back against him because you still needed it. It’d been two months since you’d last had sex with him. “Yes, I love it.”

“Yeah. You love Daddy’s dick?”

“Yes!”

“Say it. Fucking say it.”

“I love Daddy’s dick.” You moaned trying to keep your voice low so no one could hear you.

He hissed before letting out his own moan. “Louder, Baby.”

“I love Daddy’s dick,” you cried.

“Fucking louder. I want your fucking neighbor to hear you.”

“I love Daddy’s dick! I love Daddy’s dick!” You said a little louder as you tightened around him cumming all over his thick dick. He carried you over to the back of the couch, still stuffed inside of you.

He leaned you over the back of it so that he could kiss you. Thrusting in and out of you. It hurt so good.

He suddenly pulled out of you, grabbing your waist so he could make you turn around. Chris started kissing down your back getting on his knees pushing you up so you were leaning over. He finally tugged ag your panties ignoring the rip that he’d put in them as he pulled them off of you.

His tongue went to your pussy as soon as possible, licking and sucking up all the juices that were there “Fuck,” you mewled. “Don’t stop.”

He swirled his tongue around inside you. Licking you like he was making out with your cunt. His hands came up so he could jiggle your ass.

You started rubbing your clit. Needing to touch the nub because it was like it was throbbing for attention. He smacked your hand away as he started doing it himself.

His fingers were rubbing you so good. His mouth working at the same time. You could feel your orgasm so damn close. Chris didn’t let up until finally your drippy little pussy was gushing as you came hard. He wasted no time in standing up and pushing into you.

Your face felt flushed as he started moving into you again. Chris was never satisfied unless he made you cum so many times you were begging him to stop. Even then he might push you a little because he loves how whiny you get when you’re over stimulated.

“Did you let him fuck you like this?” Chris slammed his hips into you. Needing to keep fucking you as rough as he could.

“No,” you whimpered.

“Just me, huh. No one else could do this to you.” He smacked your ass leaving a stinging pain behind. “Bet you didn’t even let him hit it, huh.”

“No,” you answered.

“Why?”

“Because no one fucks me good like you.”

He chuckled clearly getting some amusement out of your desperation. Before he could cum again, he tore away from you leaving your pussy clenching on nothing as he grabbed your neck so he could take you to the carpet.

He signaled for you to get on you all fours and you thought he was going to make you suck his dick until he got down beside you. He grabbed you hard so he could put you into position. Grabbing a throw pillow to place on the ground before pushing your head into it.

The anticipation of whatever he was about to do was scaring you. Your body trembled as a reminder of the two orgasms he’d forced you through so far. He grabbed both your arms, holding them behind your back so your face was kind of dependent on the pillow that was about to be stained with your makeup for balance.

Oh, he was about to destroy your cunt.

The first thrust was so deep your body tried to pull away before you could even think about it. “No. Don’t you fucking run from me. You take it.”

The only thing you could do was take it since he was holding your hands behind you. He was violating your pussy and there was nothing you could do about it. You gasped with each thrust not being able to even wrap your head around how deep he was. You could feel him in your stomach. 

It was like this switch in your brain had turned off. All you could do was think about how much you needed Daddy’s dick. All you could fucking do. You wanted to be his bitch. Wanted for him to own you. You needed him to never ever stop.

“Oh, no. Did I fuck you stupid, Little Girl? Your stupid little brain couldn’t take it?” He sounded so condescending and it only added to how far gone you were. “Who am I?”

“You’re my daddy,” you whispered.

“I can’t hear you.”

“You’re my daddy,” you whimpered. You bit your lip, burying your head into the pillow because fuck you’d just buy a new one. Your roommate would understand.

He moaned seeing how fucked out he’d gotten you. In the same way your mind had slipped into the subspace, he felt him hit this feeling where he felt so dominant. Like you seemed so small compared to him and what he was doing to you. He reeled in these moments.

“I’m gonna cum,” you cried because right when you announced it, it hit you so deep. Your pussy juices cascading down his length. If he wasn’t stuffed inside of you, you would have probably made a mess everywhere.

Your eyes rolling to the back of your head. It felt so fucking good. Tears sprouted from your eyes and you knew you probably looked as messy as you felt.

“That’s it, Baby.” He let go of your arms, seeing how far gone you were. He pulled out of you so he could pull you into his arms. He cradled you bringing you close. “I’ve got you.” He kissed the side of your head as you cried softly. Your eyes were glazed over from how hard you came.

You sniffled burying your head into his chest. He kissed your nose before getting up with you in his arms and sitting you on the couch. He helped you pull your dress over your head because until then it’d just been bunched up. He undid your bra next so you’d be more comfortable.

“You need some water?” He asked.

You nodded, but didn’t let go of him. You needed him to be close. He chuckled, standing up with you still in his arms as he walked to the kitchen. It was fine he could hold you and get you water at the same time.

“Daddy,” you whimpered.

“What is it, Darling,” he whispered kissing the top of your head.

“I need you.”

“I’m here,” he sighed as he carried you back over to the couch. He brought the glass of water up to your face helping you take a sip. “That’s a good girl.” He set it down on the side table. “Need anything else?”

“I need to pee.”

He chuckled. “Well I can’t help you with that.”

You took a minute in the bathroom to wash your face so you could wake yourself up a little. The night was far from over. You knew that. He was just nice enough to let you take a break.

When you walked back into the living room, he was right there stroking his still hard cock. Your poor Daddy. You’d left him like this. As soon as you got closer to him you got on your knees, ready to take him into your mouth like a good slut.

He licked his lips as you got leveled with his thick cock. “It looks so yummy,” you said, before licking the underside. 

He groaned, bringing his thumb to your cheek. “That’s it, pretty girl, suck Daddy’s dick.”

You got to work. Slobbering all over him. You wanted to leave another mess on him. You could taste yourself on him and it only made you want to work harder. 

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, eyes hooded as he watched you. It was such a pretty sight seeing you on your knees before him. Your mouth worshipping his dick. “Did you suck his dick?”

You shook your head, looking up at him with big eyes. You held your tongue out as you bobbed your head up and down. He could feel the back of your throat every fucking time. Then you went all the way down his dick disappearing into your mouth completely. Your soft lips around him while your throat felt like it would swallow him whole.

“God damn,” he moaned, putting his hands in your hair so he could pull you off and then shove it back in. He fucked your throat and you let him, gagging on him sometimes, but still trying to be a good girl and take it. You didn’t want to let your daddy down. “That’s it, Bitch. You’re a good girl. You knew better than to fuck someone else, huh?”

You hummed around him, nodding your head. “Mhm.”

“Even when you’re a little fucking brat you know this is daddy’s cunt.” He groaned. “Daddy’s mouth. You’re fucking mine. You hear me?” You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him as he yanked your head up by your hair. “When I ask you a question you fucking answer me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered.

He grabbed your face before slapping your cheek. “Who owns this pussy?”

“You do.”

“See, that’s a good little slut.” He grabbed your hair so you’d have to lean up to kiss him. He made you stand up then turned you around so you’d have to sink down onto his cock again. You yelped as he stretched you out all over again.

His legs were spread wide as he started to move you up and down his length. Fuck he loved watching your ass as you rode him in reverse. You twerked on his length and watching your ass shake like that with your pussy full of him was so damn sexy. “Fuck, Daddy.”

See, perfect. Where the fuck else was he going to find a girl that let him do such depraved things and twerk on his cock while also calling him Daddy then thank him for it.

“Did you kiss him?” He suddenly asked, suddenly feeling irritated all over again. He fucking hated that you even thought it’d be okay to go on your little date.

“He just kissed my cheek,” you answered honestly.

Even the thought of that was enough to make him mad. He pushed you off of him, turning you back around so you had to climb onto his lap. “Don’t you ever, ever, ever pull some shit like that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you moaned.

You heard the keys in the door and he got up quickly so he could get you to your room without your roommate getting an eyeful of either of you. He closed the door, locking it behind. You put your head against his chest, laughing. He chuckled before kissing your forehead. “That was a close one,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry you haven’t even been able to cum.” You giggled. 

“It’s okay we got all night,” he said, smacking your ass.

There was a knock on your door and you groaned. “Um,” your roommates very clearly amused voice came from the other side, “as glad as I am that you’re moving on from the asshole that broke your heart, can you please keep it in your room.”

You scrunched up your face before looking at Chris who did not share your roommates’ sense of humor at the moment. “Sorry,” you said through the door. “I thought you’d be gone.”

“I will be. I just forgot something,” she replied. “Have fun with Devin.”

Chris slammed you down onto the bed. You purse your lips before trying to back away from him. “Just wait for when she leaves. I’m tearing this ass up,” he threatened.

And he did because as soon as you heard the front door close, he started pounding into you again. Spreading your legs wide open as he fucked into your cunt.

“Want me to cum in you?” He asked. “Fill you up?”

“Yes,” you cried.

“Look at it,” he grunted grabbing your hair again so he could force you up to watch his dick go in and out of you. “This is my cunt. Don’t you get forget that.”

“I won’t,” your voice got all whiny again as you started to cum again. This time he started to shoot inside of you giving you every single spurt. “Daddy!”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned himself hips stuttering as he shoved his cum into you.

Finally, as the two of you started to settle down getting you wrapped up in your blankets, he laid next to you to pull you into his arms. You were breathing heavy as he kissed your face. “You better break up with him,” he said so sweetly.

You groaned softly. “Chris... you still did what you did.”

“I promise nothing happened. It was just for the photo op.”

“Yeah, but they’re going to keep thinking something is going on because you don’t want to make things official with me. If you can date so can I.”

He groaned. “Is that what this is about?” He asked. “You need to hear the words?”

“It’s bigger than that. It’s about you respecting me.”

“I do, Baby,” he replied. “Fine. Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Yes.” You poured before kissing his lips. “Was that so hard?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s just that I thought you were already my girlfriend and that you just wanted to keep a low profile.”

“Oh...”

“And I wasn’t ignoring you. I broke my phone and wasn’t able to get one right away,” he said. “If you hadn’t been dodging Scott’s calls, he would have told you.”

“Well now I feel like a jerk.”

He sighed. “It’s alright. I should head home, though.”

“Why?” You poured.

“I don’t want Dodger to be alone all night,” he replied. “Wanna come?”

You nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Okay, but on one condition.”

You huffed. “What?”

“First of all, lose the attitude,” he said. “Second, you gotta breakup with David.”

“It’s Devin,” you corrected him.

He gave you a very pointed look. “I don’t give a shit. Breakup with him right now or I’ll spank you.”

You groaned tossing your head back. “That’s so mean we literally just went out.”

“I don’t give a shit. Break. Up. With. Him. Now.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes.

After getting ready to go, he made you sit down on the couch so you could write your message. “Can’t I call him? It feels less mean.”

“Either you do it right now or I will,” he said. “Keep complaining and I’ll make it worse.”

He looked over at your shoulder as you typed before snatching it out of your hands. “Chris!” You protested.

“You took too long.” He shrugged before standing up, pulling you into his arms. “See isn’t that better?”

“You’re mean.”

“Yeah? I’ll show you how mean I can be when we get to my place.”

#Chris Evans smut #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x black women #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x woc

[thetravelerwrites]

Errol (Naga) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Naga Additional Tags: Cheating, Infidelity, Break-ups, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Secretly In Love, Angst, Sex, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Dom/Sub, Ovipositor, Oviposition, Pregnancy, Babies, Eggs, Egg Laying Words: 7887

A commission for @anjhope1​​! After catching her fiance cheating, the reader breaks up with him and goes home miserable. The ex-fiance's brother, Errol, arrives on his brother's order to get his things from her apartment, but Errol is more interested in taking care of the reader and making sure she's okay. It leads to some confusing feelings and a confession. Please reblog leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

You’d had your suspicions for a while, but it wasn’t until you got the message on social media from a girl he’d dated and dumped who had photographic proof of it that you finally had to face the truth.

Your fiance was cheating on you.

Eric was a naga and had been with you for more than five years. He had asked you to marry him, ring and all, on New Years Eve with his family. He had made a big show of it, too. And now, you were going to have to confront him about being a cheating bastard.

The woman who had been dumped told you that he was now dating her friend, and she had gotten the room number where they were supposed to meet. You got to the hotel with your heart in your throat and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” That was definitely Eric’s voice. He had told you that his friend needed help moving and that he’d be staying over to help him. What a good friend he was.

You deepened your voice in an effort to mask it. “Room service.”

“Oh, good, I was wondering if you were ever going to come,” Eric said, and the door swung open. As soon as he saw you, the blood drained out of his already pale face.

“No, wait--”

“Hey, babe, did they bring the right wine this time?” A female voice said from inside.

You took off your ring and threw it in his face and called inside the room, “You can have the bastard.” And walked away.

“Wait, please, this isn’t what you think,” Eric said, slithering quickly down the hall to catch you. He grabbed your arm and you wrenched it violently out of his grasp.

“Babe, who’s this?” The woman said. She was human and pretty, you guessed.

“I’m his fiance,” You retorted. “Oh, sorry, ex-fiance. Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

“What the fuck, Eric?!” She shouted at him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Rachel, it’s not…” He stuttered. “It isn’t…”

Rachel slapped him and pushed past you toward the elevator, not looking back.

“Babe--” He started, turning back toward you.

“Don’t you dare call me ‘babe,’ you son of a bitch. Why? Why would you do this to me? Why would you waste five fucking years of my life?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“I don’t give a shit what you meant to do! I want an explanation. Was the sex bad? Do you not love me anymore? Are you just the type of person who has to have a side-chick? What? What about this is good for you? What about all this made destroying our relationship worth it?”

He groaned and scratched his head with both hands. “I… It… I can be anything I want to be with those girls, you know? If I say I’m rich, then I’m rich. If I say I’m successful, then I’m successful, and they don’t know better. They don’t know I have a shitty job that I hate. They don’t know that my girlfriend makes twice as much money as me, that she’s popular with people and everyone likes her better than me, even my own fucking family. They don’t know what a fucking loser I am.”

“And that’s my fucking fault?!” You screamed at him. “You know what you could have done instead of ruining a five year relationship? Gotten fucking therapy! Or, better yet, talked to me about it! I have been nothing but supportive of you. I have encouraged you to leave your job and find a better one. I told you I would support you until you found something that made you happy. You could have gone back to school or done and apprenticeship or vocational work, whatever, and I’d have been there! You could do whatever you wanted, and I would have helped you, and you know that!”

“Right, because you so fucking perfect, huh?” He yelled back. “It’s not enough that you rub your perfect job in my face every day and go around spending whatever you want because you don’t have to worry about money, but you also have to be perfectly supportive and perfectly giving and perfectly loving, too, right? How am I supposed to feel good about myself when you’re always better than me at everything?”

“So, it’s my fault you’re cheating on me because I’m a good girlfriend? Is that what you’re saying to me? I’m too fucking nice, so you had to put your dick in random women to feel better about yourself?” You raised your hands as if surrendering and shook your head in disbelief. “You know what? Fucking forget me. Forget our relationship, forget getting married, forget you ever knew me, forget my fucking face, don’t ever come to my house, don’t ever message me again, delete my number from your phone. As far as you’re concerned, I don’t exist to you, because you sure as shit don’t exist to me anymore.” You turned to leave.

“What about my stuff?” He protested.

“Send your brother to come get your shit,” You said without turning. “If you set foot on my property, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. I’m not fucking around. I’m so fucking glad you never moved in when I offered. ”

“So that’s it?” He said as you waited for the elevator to come back up. “You’re not even willing to work this out? It’s just over?”

“Get fucked, Eric,” You said, stepping into the elevator. “Oh wait, you already did. Do yourself a favor and sell that ring to pay for a therapist.” And the door closed on him.

As soon as the elevator started to move, you hit the floor and sobbed. Why? Why was he like this? You thought everything was perfect up until a few months ago, and you hadn’t know he felt like this. He always seemed happy. How were you supposed to know otherwise if he never said anything?

How you got back home, you didn’t know, because you didn’t remember it. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the freezer and didn’t even bother with a glass. For about an hour, you just sat there disheveled on your couch, crying and drinking.

Sometime later, there was a sheepish knock on your door. You hoped to God that it wasn’t Eric, but when you opened the door, Errol was there. Errol, Eric, and their sister Enya, were all from the same clutch of eggs, so he looked a lot like his brother in that they all had white, black, gold scales, golden eyes, cream colored skin, and blond hair. Errol was a bit larger that Eric, and where Eric wore his hair short, Errol kept his long and braided back. You always thought that it made him look elegant, despite his size. He was still wearing his work clothes, as if he’d just come from his construction job.

You and Errol hadn’t spent much time together alone, since Eric was a little jealous of other men. He’d always been very nice to you, though, and liked you just as well as the rest of his family. He’d even given you advice a few times in the past when you and Eric were fighting.

“Can I come in?” He asked, wincing.

“Did you know?” You asked him, your throat raw and hoarse from crying.

“No, I didn’t know,” He said solemnly.

“Don’t bullshit me, Errol,” You replied harshly.

“I swear I didn’t know. I would have told you, I promise. My brother can be an asshole, but I never thought he would do something like this.” Errol grimaced. “Are you okay?”

“Do I fucking look okay?” You retorted, your voice shaking as the tears returned. “If you’ve come to get his stuff, just get it and leave.”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about his stuff, I’m here for you,” Errol said. He held up a couple of plastic bags. “I brought take out and ice cream.”

“I’m not hungry,” You said vaguely, but you moved aside to let him in.

“I got alcohol, too,” He said as he slithered inside. “I could make you a Bailey’s float.”

You sighed and sniffled. “Okay.”

You sat at your table as he bustled around making the drink, laying your tear-flushed face on the cool surface of the wood.

“What did I do wrong?” You asked weepily with your cheek pressed against the table.

“Nothing,” Errol said as he lay the glass in front of you, moving a chair so that he could coil up next to the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did he do it?” You asked, sitting up and taking a watery bite of the ice cream. “Why wasn’t I enough? He said ‘girls,’ which means there’s probably more than the two I know about. How long has he been doing this? Our whole relationship?”

“When he called me to come over here and get his stuff for him, I asked. I’m not sure if he was telling me the truth, but he said it’s only been the last year.” Errol snorted derisively. “Only.”

“How many girls?” You asked.

He shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me. He kept trying to get me to side with him, but…” Errol rolled his eyes. “I’m not buying anything he says right now.”

“Did he do this to his other girlfriends?”

“Well, you were his first serious girlfriend,” Errol said. “Before you, he only dated casually, so it was never a problem. When he said he really loved you, I thought he meant it.”

“Yeah.” Your lip quivered and you stabbed the spoon into your float. “Me too.”

Errol reached out and pulled you into a tight hug, which you sank into and let loose again, soaking his shirt in tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Errol whispered into your hair.

At some point, Errol put you to bed. You were exhausted and drunk and just wanted to sleep, so he lay you down and left you to it.

When the morning came, you felt like your head had been run over with a truck. You decided to get some coffee going before taking a shower, but to your surprise, Errol was still there. He was in the kitchen on the phone, his hair out of it’s usual braid and tumbling down his shoulders.

“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” Errol said. You immediately realized he was talking to his brother. “No, I’m not picking up your shit. I don’t care if she burns it all.” He was silent for a moment, and you could hear Eric speaking. “No… No, you’re full of shit. Do you know what a good thing you had? Do you have any idea what I would give to have what you just shit on? …fuck no, I’m not going to talk her into taking you back, are you insane?! Get over yourself… No… No, it’s not happening, you can go fuck yourself right now… Look, I don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”

Errol hung up and turned, startled to realize you were standing there. “Oh, hey,” He said. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” You replied honestly. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah, you were in bad shape last night and I didn’t want to leave you alone. I slept on the couch, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” You said. “I was just going to make coffee.”

“Oh, I already made some,” He said, going to the coffee pot and pouring you a mugful. “I figured you could use it. I’ve got breakfast coming too, something greasy to absorb all that alcohol.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” You said, sipping the coffee. It was really good, but not your normal brand, though it tasted very familiar. Actually, now that you thought about it, you always drank the gross coffee Eric liked. This was a nice change. “I’m going to take a shower and wash last night off of me. Are you okay here?”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time,” He said, turning to pull down plates and prepare for breakfast.

You were about to turn to the bathroom but stopped. “Errol.”

He looked back up at you. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for… thanks.”

He smiled at you. “It’s no problem at all.”

You took your shower with your head pressed against the tile. Why couldn’t you just forget? Why couldn’t you put all of it out of your mind and stop thinking about it? What would it take to make the pain stop?

The water was cold by the time you got out, and when you went back into the kitchen, the food had arrived and Errol had everything set out on the table. He looked up anxiously when you came in.

“You okay?” He said, concerned. “You were in there for a worryingly long time. I was thinking about going in there if you hadn’t come out in five minutes.”

“I’m fine. Well, not fine, but you know.”

“Yeah,” He said sympathetically. “Try to eat. All you had last night were two bites of ice cream and a lot of alcohol.”

You picked up your fork and speared a sausage. “I must look horrible.”

“Nope, not possible,” He said, tucking into his own plate of food. “A person can look tired and cute at the same time, you know.”

You snorted, prodding your puffy face gently. “You’re too nice. Maybe I should have dated you instead.”

He laughed. “You know, it’s actually kinda funny, I was going to ask you out back in college before you started dating Eric.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah, he kind of sniped you, if I’m being honest.”

“I never knew that,” You said. “Did he know you wanted to ask me out?”

“Oh, yeah, I told him,” He said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. “I told him there was a girl at my college who always went to this one coffee shop near campus, and I told him I was going buy you your favorite coffee and cookies as an icebreaker.”

Your head rocked back. “That’s exactly what he did when he asked me out.”

Errol tsked sardonically. “Yeah. I know.”

You scoffed. “Wow, what an absolute asshole.”

Errol shrugged and smiled. “Ancient history now. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” You said as he filled your cup. “This is really good, what is it?”

“Orange and almond mocha.”

You cocked your head. “Wait… isn’t that the blend I drank at the coffee shop? It used to be my favorite.”

“I know,” He said. “I ordered some. I thought it might be a nice pick-me-up. The shit that Eric drinks is revolting.”

“That’s definitely true,” You said, looking at Errol closely. “You remembered what my favorite coffee blend was from five years ago?”

Errol looked up at you. His face seemed carefully blank.

“Yeah, but I mean, it’s no big deal.” He wiped his mouth and sat back. “I should get going, I have work in a few hours. Are you going to be okay here on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think I’m going to take some personal days.”

Errol nodded.”That’s a good idea. I’ll call later to check on you, okay? If you need anything, just text me.”

“Okay,” You said, feeling a little off-balance.

Errol smiled and let himself out, and you were left standing there, staring after him as an overwhelming sense of realization hit you like a freight train.

…did I date the wrong brother all this time?

Later in the day, Eric called. You almost weren’t going to pick up, but you decided to see what he had to say for himself now that the heat of the moment had passed.

“What do you want?” You said brusquely.

“Why did my brother spend the night at your house last night?” Eric said immediately.

“...excuse me?” You replied, incredulous.

“You heard me. What the fuck was he doing there?”

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

“What do you mean, it’s not my business? He’s my brother and you’re my fiance!”

“Ex-fiance,” You corrected him. “First of all, you are the one who told him to come over in the first place. Secondly, I was not obviously doing well last night and he stayed to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid or die in my sleep of alcohol poisoning. And third, and I cannot stress this enough, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t bullshit me, you know he’s in love with you.”

Your head snapped back in agitation. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you really don’t know? Ms. Perfect doesn’t know that my asshole brother has had a crush on you for years?”

“You’re full of shit, Eric,” You retorted. “Don’t drag Errol into this.”

“Did you just decide to fuck my brother to get back at me, is that it?”

“Fuck you, Eric!” You hung up the phone and hit the floor, a wave of anguish washing you again. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he have to make everything worse?

The phone rang again, and it was Eric. You decided to block him and be done with it. You got a notification from Facebook, and then Twitter, and then Instagram, all from Eric. Every new notification made your anxiety rise higher and higher until you were balled up on the floor, sobbing again. In desperation, she dialed Errol’s number.

“Hello?”

“Please help,” She begged, weeping. “He won’t leave me alone. He keeps messaging me and calling me. I can’t… I can’t do it…”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” Errol said. He sounded angry.

“Can you come over? Please?”

“Of course, I’ll be right there.”

“Okay. I’m going to turn off my phone.”

“That’s a good idea,” He said. “If I need to, I can message you on your gaming console.”

“Okay,” You said. “Bye.”

He hung up with you and you turned your phone off, sitting on the floor of your kitchen in the blissful silence, unable to get up.

Was that true? Could it be possible that Errol had been in love with you the whole time you’d been dating Eric? He said he’d wanted to ask you out. He remembered tiny details, like what your favorite coffee had been. He made you your favorite dessert when you were miserable without even having to ask what it was. He stayed overnight to make sure you didn’t get hurt or hurt yourself. He bought breakfast and defended you. He didn’t have to do any of that. He was just your fiance’s brother. Ex-fiance.

He arrived shortly after you called him. As soon as he entered the house, before he had a chance to say anything, you reached up, took his face in your hands, and kissed him. For a second or two, there was no reaction, but then he leaned into the kiss, deepening it, savoring it, before abruptly putting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“...why did you do that?” He asked you, his face grim.

“Eric told me,” You said. “He said you’ve been in love with me the entire time I was dating him. Is that true?”

Errol looked down and away. “Look--”

“You told Eric on the phone that you’d have given anything to have what he had. You meant me, right?”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Errol, look at me!” You shouted.

It seemed to take a lot of will, but Errol’s eyes flicked back up to meet yours. They were pleading with you.

“Do you love me?”

His face scrunched as if he were in pain and he swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t…

“Don’t…lie to me,” You said in a tense whisper, tears spilling from your eyes. “Do you?”

Tears began to gather in his own eyes. His response was barely audible.

“…yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since I first saw you in the coffee shop.”

You tried to press forward to kiss him again, but he held you firm, sniffing. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“But I don’t want to be used to get revenge on my brother,” He whispered back, his voice strangled and uneven. “It’s not good for you and it’s not fair to me. You know that.”

Your face crumpled. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, unable to look at him anymore. “I just don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want him in my head.”

Finally, Errol pulled you into a hug.

“I know,” He said. His body was tense, as if he were restraining himself. “We can revisit this later. Much later.”

“When?” You asked piteously.

“Not now. Not soon. You need time to heal and I… need to think.”

“I’m sorry, Errol,” You cried into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never saw it.”

He laughed slightly. “It’s not your fault. I got really good at hiding it. And Eric always kept you at arms length from me. I think he was afraid I’d steal you away or something.”

He let you go and you stepped away, looking at the ground in shame.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was using you,” You said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He put his hand under his chin and made you look up at him, his thumb stroking your cheek. “For what it’s worth, I’m relieved the secret is out now. Tiptoeing around you and Eric was exhausting. The engagement was my worst nightmare, because it meant I’d have to just suffer in silence forever.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s over for both our sakes, then,” You said, attempting to smile.

He smiled too, but it was very soft. Gentle. “I don’t… think it’s a good idea for us to hang out together much from now on, at least for a while,” He said, letting go. “But… we can text. We can call. If you need anything, I’m always here for you. That’s always been true.”

You nodded. “I know.” You sighed and took another step back. “I’m going to miss you.”

His smile widened sadly. “I’m not far, but… I know what you mean.”

With the both of you in tears, he turned, opened the door, and was gone. Thirty seconds after he left, however, you got a text.

>Are you okay?

You smiled through your tears, feeling glad and grateful that he was still communicating with you. >No. But I think I will be.

>Good.

>Are you okay? You asked in return.

>Honestly, I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. This was a lot at once.

>Yeah, no kidding. I think I may see a therapist to help me out.

>That’s a really good idea. Maybe I should too.

>I think everyone should at least once.

>Yeah. Do you need anything?

>No, I’m okay. Thank you for everything, Errol.

>It’s my pleasure.

Some time passed. You and Errol talked and texted every single day. Neither of you brought up dating each other and carefully avoided affectionate language. He wanted you to heal and you wanted to give him a fair chance without the cloud of his brother hanging over you.

Talking to him was effortless, like talking to yourself. You each had your own tastes and dislikes, but you both loved a lot of the same things and had similar desires. You both loved your jobs, enjoyed the same music, gushed over books you’d read, and liked playing board games. One of your favorite things to do was watch movies remotely over Zoom. It was almost like being on a date, even if you couldn’t be together.

As hard as you tried not to, you compared everything Errol did to Eric. Even still, it was obvious that Errol had always been better suited to you than Eric ever was. It was abundantly clear that you had indeed been dating the wrong brother the entire time.

On what was supposed to be your anniversary with Eric, Errol sent you a link to play a horror game with him. Errol hated anything horror, so instead of spending the day crying and drinking and cursing Eric for being alive, you got to laugh the whole day at how loud Errol screamed when he was startled. It ended up being a wonderful day.

You did see a therapist, as did Errol, and the two of you would talk about your sessions with each other, sharing the advice the counselors had given you. He also sent you gifts through delivery, like the coffee you loved and your favorite treats. Whenever you’d had a bad day or had to deal with Eric due to post-breakup business, a treat would arrive the next day, and it always put a smile on your face.

You were worried that all the time apart might change how Errol felt, but he never wavered. You woke up every day to a text saying good morning, and went to bed after talking to him for at least an hour about your day. After a month, you realized that a day or two would go by when you wouldn’t think of Eric at all. You hadn’t thought that would be possible when you first broke up with Eric, and he did still haunt your thoughts most of the time, but the respite from the emotional distress of thinking of him, even for a short time, was wonderful.

Three months after the breakup and his confession, you, Errol, and your therapists all decided that you were ready to date again. That same day, Errol showed up on your doorstep with flowers. The sight of him was like breathing fresh air after being underwater.

“Hi,” He said, smiling brightly.

“Hi,” You replied, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. He reciprocated without hesitation.

“So…” He said, not letting go. “Do you want to go out with me tonight?”

“Yes,” You said, cuddling him closer.

He pulled back and kissed you for a very long time, tasting your lips and teasing his tongue just inside your mouth. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and just looked at your face, touching your cheeks with his fingertips. Eventually he stepped back.

“Let’s go.”

Dating him was amazing. He knew everything there was to know about you, so he took you to places you loved, to all your favorite restaurants, to concerts he knew you’d enjoy. It was like you’d been dating for years already, even though it was just a few weeks. You made out like teenagers, hot and heavy, but he was careful about being intimate too quickly, though, still fearful about being a rebound. You respected that.

You were already talking about the future, though. You both wanted to get married eventually and to be parents before you turned thirty. Before breaking up, you had been talking about having kids with Eric, which was something he had expressed interest in during the start of your relationship, but recently he had been making excuses, like he didn’t have enough in savings or he didn’t feel ready. You guessed you knew why now.

You were worried that his family would be angry with you for ending your relationship with Eric and dating Errol, but they seemed completely understanding. It was likely they were also aware that Errol had been in love with you forever, and the fact that Eric cheated on you wasn’t something they were proud of. You were still warmly invited to all the family gatherings with Errol, and while having Eric there was a little awkward, his seething anger at seeing you happy with Errol was the best revenge you could have asked for.

“They let everyone in the office have the day off. Do you want to hang out today?” You asked Errol one night after about a month and a half of dating.

“Ordinarily I’d love to, but I’m feeling kinda weird today. Squishy. I think I’m going to have my period soon.”

He wasn’t being hyperbolic; nagas with male sex organs both created the eggs and fertilized them, but they didn’t have a womb or cavity in their bodies where the eggs could incubate, which is why they needed people with uteruses to propagate the species. It took a month for the eggs to develop inside them, but after that, they could implant them into another person’s body at any time they chose. However, after a year, the eggs died naturally and were expelled from their bodies, therefore, male nagas experienced periods once a year. Eric usually went to a specialized facility where the eggs would be humanely disposed of.

“Are you sure? Isn’t it rather soon for that.”

“I went into heat last week. The eggs usually die quickly after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” You said. “Why did you go into heat? That typically only happens when nagas in a sexual relationship with someone, right?”

“That, and if you’re experiencing extreme sexual needs that aren’t being met.”

“Oh. Ohhh…” You hissed in a breath. “Is it because of me?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” He reassured you. “It’s my problem. I’ll take care of it.”

You were silent for a moment of deep contemplation. He seemed to sense you were thinking about something.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“Do you think the eggs are still viable?”

It was his turn to be silent. “Um… maybe. Probably. I think it’ll be another week before I need to go in to evacuate them. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking…” You said slowly. “We both said we wanted kids. And I know we’re just starting out, and this is super sudden, and it probably doesn’t even make sense to do this now, and we haven’t even had sex yet, but… oh, god, I’m rambling…” You sighed heavily. “If you’d like, we can wait until next year when we’ve been together for longer, but… it just seems like this is a good opportunity. It… feels right, you know what I mean? If that’s what you want.”

He took another moment of silence to think really hard about what you were saying. “Are you sure about this, honey?” He asked you finally.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” You said resolutely. “I love you, and I’m in a good place, both emotionally and financially. I’m ready to be a mom. I have been for years.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt anxiously. “Is this something you want? I mean… I totally understand if it isn’t. If you want to wait, that’s fine with me. I just… I want to do this.”

His voice turned sultry. “You really want my eggs?”

You grinned and bit your lip. You’d learned through hints in conversations you had with him that he had a little bit of a breeding and pregnancy kink.

“Yeah. But we should act fast if we want them to take.”

“I’ll be right over,” He said, and the phone clicked.

You immediately went into the bathroom to get ready, feeling nervous. There was a weight of expectation on you, not just because you were talking about getting pregnant, but also because of how long Errol had wanted to be with you. You were scared that you wouldn’t live up to his expectation.

He arrived shortly after, looking excited and nervous. You pulled him into your arms and kissed him. He was shaking.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He said, touching your face reverently. “I’ve just… I’ve been dreaming of this for so long. I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

You smiled softly at him. “Come on.” You took him by the hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. He took a deep, shaky breath and followed.

Once in the room, he pulled you in and kissed you again, deeper this time, more probing, his body pressed flush against yours.

“I’m not sure how to… begin…” He said. “I don’t know what you like and don’t like yet.”

“We can learn as we go,” You said. “We don’t have to rush.”

“Well, what do you like? Do you have any kinks I should know about?”

You laughed. “I have a few, I guess.”

“Tell me about one,” He said.

Instead of telling, you knelt down and sat on your knees with your butt resting on your feet, perched forward on your hands, and looked up at him through your lashes.

“What would you like me to do for you?” You asked, biting your lip.

His eyebrows rose and a startled smile spread across his face. “Oh,” He said. Slowly, he took off his long shirt, exposing his torso and the slit on his lower abdomen, usually closed and imperceptible from his scales, but now swollen and puckered slightly. He ran his fingers through your hair where you were crouched on the floor and came close, so that his slit was near your face.

“Touch it for me, sweetie,” He said.

Gently, you circled one finger around the slit, feeling it pulse under your touch. He exhaled sharply and his head fell back, his braid swinging. With your forefinger and middle finger, you stroked it up and down, watching it open slowly. You leaned forward and kissed it, and he spasmed, groaning.

Gradually, two dicks emerged from his slit, a long, thin one with a spear-like head, and a shorter, thick one with a bulbous head. You knew each had a different purpose. Normally, the thin one would be retracted so that nagas could just enjoy sex, but the thin one was an ovipositor. It’s what implanted the eggs. You knew not to touch it, since it secreted a numbing agent that made implanting the eggs easier.

“Now?” You asked.

“Not yet,” He said. “You’re not ready yet. Stand up.”

You obeyed, and he began to undress you. You started to help, but he said, “No, no, let me do it.”

You put your arms back down and let him peel your clothes off. And then he just looked at you.

“Stand still,” He said. “Stay quiet.”

You nodded, obeying.

“Good girl,” He whispered. “That’s my good girl.”

He started with your shoulders, letting his fingers run over your skin, down your arms, up your sides, caressing your breasts, down your belly, and reached one hand between your legs. You gasped.

“Shh,” He said. “Stay silent.”

It was a hard order to follow, as he touched your pearl and massaged it slowly, running a finger inside your slit as he did. Your breathing was uneven and you had to bite a finger, but you managed to be quiet.

“You can make all the noise you want soon,” He promised seductively. “I just want to test how good you can be for me.”

You nodded again, your body shivering at his touch.

He brought his face very close to yours, so that your lips were mere millimeters apart, but stopped short of actually kissing you. You could feel his cool breath on your neck and chest, and it made your heart race.

“You’re getting there,” He said, pushing a finger inside your entrance. You inhaled, but bit down on your cheek to stay silent.

“Good girl,” He said, pulling his finger out. "Lay face down on the bed and lift your ass up. Spread your legs open.”

You nodded again and followed his orders, doing exactly what he asked of you. He slithered up behind you and went back to touching between your legs with one hand, the other sliding up and down your spine. You felt him sink down and kiss your thighs.

“You can moan for me, darling,” He said.

You were happy to obey, and whimpered against your pillow as he licked a long stripe from behind, kneading your buttocks as he did. He moaned as he sucked on you, your legs shaking. He pressed his thumb into you as he sucked, and you thought you were going to cum. He stopped just before that happened, leaving you feeling desperate.

“Good,” He said. “You’re perfect.” He crawled over you from the back so that his face was next to yours and he kissed you. “Are you still sure about this? We can just have sex, I don’t have to breed you.”

“You want to, don’t you?”

“Don’t worry about what I want right now, are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes,” You simpered. “I want it. Give them to me. Please. I want them.”

He bit his lip, looked at you like you were something he wanted to eat, and grinned. “Good girl.” He went out of view then, and you felt his hands on your hips.

“Be still,” He said. “Let me in.”

You nodded, and felt the slim tube enter your body. The anesthetic began working immediately, so you only had a vague sensation of it pushing all the way in, penetrating your womb, and fixing itself there.

“Are you hurting, love?” He asked as he lay over you, putting his arm under your head so that you could lay on it and resting his body on top of you. Your hips were still in the air and your stomach wasn’t touching the bed.

“No, I’m okay,” You replied.

“Good,” He said, sounding a bit strained, his body tensing. His stuttering breath blew through your hair. “It’s starting.”

He grunted, but you couldn’t tell if it was in pleasure or pain. His breathing was sharp and punctuated as the egg moved down through the ovipositor and into you. You could feel a small swell in your stomach, but it wasn’t painful. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder and relaxed and shuddered, gasping.

“Did it hurt?” You asked.

“Not exactly,” He replied a little breathlessly. “It feels good, but it’s also a bit of work to push it out. Sorry this isn’t as sexy as you might have hoped.”

“Who said it wasn’t?” You replied, nuzzling him. “It’s like a special kind of foreplay. Besides, I’m really enjoying all the sounds that are coming out of you.”

“I can feel that,” He said, laughing. “You keep squeezing me.” He tensed again and started grunting, hugging you tightly.

“You’re doing great,” You told him.

“This is… harder than I thought it would be,” He said stiltedly. You could feel the sweat from his brow dripping on your skin.

“You can do it,” You said, kissing his arm as it gripped you and biting his thumb. “How many do you think there are?”

“I think three,” He said. He exhaled forcefully, and you felt another swell slip into you as he panted.

“One more, honey,” You said. “Deep breaths.”

He snickered, and then groaned. “Okay…” He said. He gripped you hard as the last one came and passed through. You were beginning to feel a full sensation in your belly and felt glad this was the last one.

Once it was out, the ovipositor retracted and he flopped onto the bed, gasping like a fish.

“Whoa,” He said. “Laying them in a person is way different than disposing of them.”

“How so?” You asked, moving to lie on your side so that you could touch him. He was clammy and cold.

“That felt great,” He said, looking over at you and smiling. “Like, it hurt a bit, but it felt like a small orgasm every time.”

“Probably a biological incentive to procreate,” You said, kissing his chest and neck.

He snorted. “Probably.” He looked at you with his eyes half lidded. “It’s going to be a few minutes until you get the feeling back down there. Why don’t you spend some time and play with me?”

“Is that an order?” You asked.

“Do you want me to punish you?” He asked.

“Maybe I’ll like it,” You said with a smirk.

He took you by the chin and made you look down at the second, larger cock, which was still erect and bobbing. “Touch me.”

You went down and sat astride his tail so that he could watch you take his cock in your hand, and begin to slowly pump it up and down.

“Hmm, that’s good,” He said with a satisfied sigh. “Let me know when your feeling comes back. We don’t want to waste time.”

“I will,” You said, stroking him. Your stomach felt tight, so you rubbed it as you touched him, drawing his eye. He watched you hungrily.

“I can’t believe you did that,” He said, smiling at you.

“We’re only half-way there,” You told him. “Don’t get too excited.”

He bucked his tail and nearly knocked you over onto the bed, making you shriek and laugh.

After a few minutes of teasing and touching and good-natured laughter, the feeling began to return. You started rocking on his tail to be sure, and realized that you were extremely sensitive.

“It’s back?” He asked

You nodded, pleasuring yourself against his body.

“Good. Lay down.”

You obeyed, and he moved to lay on top of you, his tail between your legs and his slit lining up with yours, kissing you deeply and rolling your nipples in his fingers. He pushed himself inside you as he kissed you, careful not to go too deep, as the ovipositor had made you a little sore. You rolled your body against his in time with his thrusts. You were so sensitive that you could already feel the crest of ecstasy beginning to wash over you.

“I love you so much,” He whispered against your skin. “I’m so happy.”

“I love you,” You replied, your hands in his hair as he moved inside you with purpose, precision. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

He stopped immediately, and you groaned shrilly, the sensation of denial sending a shiver up your back.

“Not yet,” He said, biting your lower lip. “Not until I say. Be a good girl.”

You nodded, panting and trembling, but your body was betraying you, writhing desperately against him, trying to regain the friction.

“Be still,” He said. “I’m not going to move again until you be still.”

You squealed in need, but you did your best to make your body stop clutching at him. It took a minute, but you managed to settle down.

“Good,” He said, slowly moving inside you again. “Good girl.”

“Cum inside me,” You begged. “Please.”

“I will,” He said, kissing you. “When I want to. Be patient and I’ll reward you.”

Your body was wound so tightly that you thought you were going to explode, practically vibrating underneath him. The sight of it made him grin.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said, licking your earlobe, still keeping the maddeningly slow pace. “Do you want it that bad?”

“Yes!” You groaned. “Yes, please. Errol, please.”

He thrust sharply, but not hard, and you nearly came undone. You cried out, about to snap like a string.

“Are you always going to be a good girl for me?” He whispered sinfully.

“Yes!”

“Do you promise me?”

“Yes!”

“Say it. Say ‘I promise.’”

“I promise, I promise, please!”

His thrusts became targeted again. “Beg me some more.”

“Errol, please! Please let me cum, please!” You cried. Every muscle, every nerve in your body was screaming for release.

“You can cum when I tell you to,” He said, though his movements were extremely efficient now. He was very good at drawing this out.

“I can’t take it, please!” You begged.

“One more time, say you love me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I love you! I love you so much! Please!”

From there, he wasted no time, slamming himself into you with speed. In no time at all, you were a screaming, shaking mess underneath him, thanking him over and over. The tension in his body and the sudden shout and moaning from him told you that he had reached his peak too.

“Not yet,” He gasped, rearing up. “I’m not done yet.”

He had leaned up so that he could look down at you and put his hand on your stomach, feeling the new hardness there. He kept going, pistoning against your body, snapping his hips against you, and rode the wave for a second time, all focus and concentration.

The both of you came one final time before he collapsed on the bed beside you, sucking in air as hard as you were. For a few minutes, all you could do was breathe.

After some time, he left the bed and went into the bathroom, and you heard the water in the tub running. You were barely conscious when he came back and lifted you out of the bed, taking you into the bathroom, and lay you down in the warm water of the bath. You were so tired and boneless that you could hardly raise your head, so he carefully, lovingly washed your body, paying special attention to your belly.

“Are you alive?” He asked after some time of sitting next to the tub, watching you drift in and out.

“I think so,” You replied, opening your eyes to smile sleepily at him. “Do you think they took?”

“We won’t know for a while. You should take it easy until then.” He smoothed the hair away from your face and stroked your cheek. “You’re going to have my babies,” He said, laughing a little.

“I hope so,” You said, taking his hand and kissing the palm.

“Eric is going to be pissed,” Errol said, snickering.

You snorted. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about him once today. This isn’t about him.”

Errol kissed you. “You’re right. It isn’t. It’s about us.” He lay his hand on your stomach and smiled gently. “All of us.”

Only one of the eggs took, but that was okay. Errol’s parents were overjoyed to learn they’d be getting a grandchild. Both you and Errol decided Eric could learn it on Facebook, like all the other strangers and acquaintances in your lives.

You took maternity leave so that you could pass your gestational time in relative peace. Errol fussed over you, making sure you ate properly and went with you to all your appointments. You made the decision to lay the egg at home instead of the hospital, and Errol’s sister acted as the midwife. It was the toughest work you’d ever done, and Errol was the best cheerleader you could have asked for.

Errol took paternity leave, like you had done, since he couldn’t leave the egg, anyway. He incubated the egg for the rest of the gestation period, curled up around it day and night. Errol’s son, Ewan, was born six months after being conceived, and within another year, you and Errol were married.

You often wondered if things had been different, if you had dated Errol from the beginning instead of Eric, if you’d be as overjoyed as you were at the moment. But then you figured that wondering about what ifs was a waste of time. You had a happy family to look after now, after all, and another clutch on the way. There was no time to worry about the past. The future was right in front of you.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Naga #Cheating #Angst #Hurt/Comfort

[bakugohoex]

hi i love your works <3! i was wondering if you could write a little lighthearted scenario where reader makes an egg omelette for her crush jean (pref post timeskip? is okay if that can't work though), but somehow sasha and connie finds the omelette and eats it when reader steps outside the kitchen, leaving her confused on what to do? sorry, that's a big blog of a sentence! i hope it made sense

“you brats ate it didn’t you”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: aged up, fluff, language

word count: 1600+

a/n: hi thank you so much for the support, hope you liked it and it’s fine it all made sense to me i changed the ending a bit cause i think it fit better but i hope you still like it

summary: in which you make an omelette that jean’s mother had taught you how to make for the boy to confess your love for him, but sasha and connie had other ideas in mind

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

Four long years, four long, strenuous years of planning the next move, getting rid of all the titans and having seen the sea multiple times already. Being back in Trost, the sounds of the streets bustling with happiness was new and would never have been expected four years ago. The way people admired the survey corps now, admired the regain of Wall Maria and the faith they had of a better world outside the sea. 

“Y/n, dear, have you got everything you need?” Jean’s mother had been helping you find the ingredients you needed for the famous omelette she made for him when he was a kid. You had met his mother previously; she was a lovely woman and in a matter of minutes had known your crush for the boy. Having finally gotten the nerve to confess, his mother being the sweetest woman alive offered her helping hand. 

Having shown you how to make it and now you’d have to go back to the Survey Corps kitchens to make it yourself. It was a lot having not ever made anything in your life it was worrying to say the least. “Dear, stop looking so frightened my Jean boy will love it.” You smile at the woman taking a deep breath. 

“Thank you Mrs. Kirschtein.” You give the woman a gracious look, she really was the greatest mum, even after how Jean treated her after she visited in the training days. You knew he loved her, he loved lots of things, this omelette hopefully being one of them.

You walked through the gates, going towards the stone building that was housing you for a couple days. Seeing Sasha and Connie fight over some food, you didn't bother to question it, “Y/n, you’re back.” Jean smiled running up to you, his long hair curling at the bottom just reaching above his shoulders. 

“Yeah, I got everything I needed; your mother was a great help.” You didn't explain what you had gotten, wanting it to be a surprise for the boy. 

“You were with my mother.” Your eyes flashed red at how stupidly you had said it.

Trying to recover your words, “i met her on my way out, she offered the help.” He smiled before trying to peek inside the bag you were holding. 

“No peeking.” You slapped his hand away, chuckling at how he pretended to be hurt.

“Oww, what is it? A surprise?” He grinned out.

“Yes, it is.” You stood tall walking to the kitchens that were rarely used. You didn't really even know why they had one, but you didn't question it.

Jean followed trying to find out what it was, “what is it Y/n?” He pouted before trying to put his hand again in the bag.

“Jean.” You scowled grabbing the bag before he could grab it.

“Whoever it’s for must be a lucky man.” He scratched the back of his head before putting his arms on the table leaning against it. 

“Who says it’s for a man?” You knitted your eyebrows and crossed your arms, of course it was for a man, more specifically the man in front of you. 

He raises an eyebrow staring at you with his light brown eyes, you stared back not knowing what to say. “No woman decides to just spontaneously make a surprise meal for their friend, and you wouldn't make shit for Sasha.”

You had to agree with him there, “it’s a surprise Jean, I can't tell anybody.”

“It isn't for Captain Levi is it?” Your eyes widened at the thought of Levi even tasting your food, you could only imagine the grimace look that would plaster onto his face. 

“God no, please Jean I’ll tell you later who it's for?” You really just wanted to make it and get it over and done with, it was a confession, and you were scared you'd mess it up and having the 190cm tall boy hovering over you would most likely not help you in any way.

“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered leaving, he had only pestered you as a way to hide how jealous he felt. Was it to Eren, he had seen you talking to him a couple weeks ago, but it couldn't be. Unless it was someone you knew in Trost, worry filled his mind, the love of his life confessing to another guy. He looked down, hands in his pocket as he walked away, whoever the fuck it was, was a lucky man.

The piece of paper with the recipe fell onto the countertop, it was easy enough you didn't know why you had even felt worried when making it was easy, the two eggs going into the pan, the other pan with the filling and your ingredients for the sauce being chopped up, having put the filling into the omelette, the smell of it intoxicated the air. But worst of all it had gotten outside of the kitchens and directly to where Sasha and Connie both were.

“Do you smell that?” Having stopped fighting over the bread and potato, Sasha became rabid sniffing the air as she ran forward, like a woman on a mission. Connie followed, having nothing better to do, “it’s eggs and… potatoes.” She continued sniffing rambling on about the ingredients.

Just as you had finished every component and added them all together, the omelette looked like how Jean’s mothers was. It looked perfect and even smelt perfect as well, if being a part of the Survey corps didn't pan out you knew you’d have something to fall back on, or death. Death having a higher percentage of occurring, you played it up leaving it too cool on the side as you left the dishes on the side to do after you had brought Jean back with you.

Exiting the kitchen, you walked to the opposite direction of where both Sasha and Connie were, they both found the smell, the plate being left unattended. “Dinner is served.” Sasha gleamed, grabbing a fork that you had left on the side. 

“Sasha, it could be someone’s...” Connie warned.

Sasha hadn't heard and instead started digging into the food, Connie reluctantly trying some as well. If it smelt nice it had to taste nice, and God did it taste perfect, like heaven for their mouths.

Whilst this was all occurring, you saw Jean with Eren, an unusual sight but then again, they both were somewhat friends. Jean noticed you coming up to him, but a fear erupted, were you actually here for Eren instead? “Jean.” You smiled at the boy, you had put a little note underneath the plate so once he finished you could grab the plate and leave him to read it. It was trivial but you were too scared to say it out loud.

Jean was waiting for the can i speak to Eren alone, but it never came instead you put your hand out. “Come with me.” He complied, grabbing your hand, your soft warm fingers interlaced with his own, even though the confidence of holding his hand you were scared shitless at the thought of rejection.

“You're going to tell me who it’s for now.” He chuckled through having been dragged the whole way, just as you entered the kitchen, shock filled your eyes and Jean looked between you and the scene.

The empty plate with Sasha and Connie putting their forks down, “you brats ate it didn’t you?” You seethed out letting go of Jean’s hand, they had ruined the surprise and all you could do was stay in shock.

“I’m so sorry, I told Sasha not to…” Connie trailed off seeing anger come from you.

Jean saw the dishes and had an idea for them to make it up to you, “because you two ate it, you both can clean up.” Connie obliged not wanting to get hurt by you and Sasha was in a partial food coma at how much she’d eaten.

“Y/n, it was fucking amazing.” She chuckled following Connie to the dishes.

Jean went over to the plate, “don’t forget this.” Just as he lifted the plate up to pass it, you remembered the note hiding underneath, his name written right on top of it. Your eyes widened but it was too late to say anything, Jean had grabbed it and had flipped it over.

It was for you, I fell in love with you, I’m still falling in love with you

The three lines melted his heart, he watched how your eyes began to become saddened from his silent expression. He went to speak but you didn't dare look at him, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.”

Jean went over stuffing the note in his pocket before taking you away from Sasha and Connie, “you love me?”

“Don’t mock me Jean, just reject me if you…” Before you could finish your sentence, his grip of his hands moved to your face, grabbing it and your hair, your lips collided together in an instant. You could feel his teeth against your own, his tongue moving along with your own. Your own hands had moved to his locks of hair, feeling it entangle through your fingers, you were actually doing it. You were kissing Jean Kirschtein, your love, your happiness, your home. He heard your soft moan through the kiss making his heart go wild, your confession had been a surprise, always believing his love for you to be unrequited but here you were in his arms.

Finally letting go to breathe, his hands still brushing your hair out and cheek away, he went down to your ear, soft kisses against your jaw before speaking the four words that melted you, “I love you, too.”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage​ @jennammaee​ @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac

#jean kirschtein #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #attack on titan jean #attack on titan #attack on titan jean kirschtein #attack on titan jean kirstein #jean aot #aot jean #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirstein fluff #attack on titan fluff #aot jean kirschtein #aot jean kirstein #aot jean x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #haikyuu fluff #imagines #aot one shots #oneshots #bakugohoex

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time - part 2

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader

warning: none that I can think of

word count: 2,700-ish

a/n: just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to comment, reblog or like the first part 💕 your support truly means a lot to me. everyone who has asked to be tagged or requested a second part has been @-ed below.

previous part

"Who are you talking to?”

The question came seemingly out of nowhere, making you jump so hard you almost dropped the phone in your hand.

“Jesus, woman!” you swore, putting your free hand over your rapidly beating heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Natasha was fresh out of the shower, her wet hair twisted in a towel. The redhead was wearing an oversized grey hoodie and some sweatpants that you had found somewhere deep inside your closet. She looked adorable, you had to admit, like a kid wearing their parent's clothes. The sight strangely made your stomach flip.

“Force of habit, I'm afraid,” she smiled apologetically, carefully sitting down on the couch. Her face was finally clean, no more mud, blood, or grime sticking to her features. Except for the blue-ish bruise on her left cheekbone, and a small cut near her eyebrow, her skin was unfairly flawless.

“So, are you gonna answer my question?”, she plopped her feet up on your coffee table, shaking you out of your thoughts. With a shrug, you pocketed your phone, hoping she hadn’t noticed your staring.

“Just work. Called in sick until Tuesday. After all, I can’t let you roam around my apartment unsupervised. For one, you’re injured, for another, you’re still a stranger.”

On your way to the couch, you picked up the first aid kit from your kitchen counter.

“A stranger?” she repeated with mock hurt, putting a hand over her heart, “ You wound me. After everything we’ve been through, I really thought we were getting closer.”

Shaking your heart amusedly, you sat down next to her. Balancing the first aid kit on your thigh, you pulled on a pair of rubber gloves with a snap. You could feel her gaze on you, watching your every move. Nervously, you cleared your throat, a little uncomfortable with her attention.

“Let’s have a look,” you nod to her and she complied with your unspoken request, pulling the hoodie up just enough for you to access her injury. Gingerly, you removed the bandage, dumping it into the trash can and inspecting the stitched wound, quietly humming in concentration as you did.

“I think you strained it a bit with your morning escapades today but I don’t think you pulled any of the stitches,” you concluded after a moment. Your voice sounded more sure than you actually felt about your assessment, considering all your expertise came from the internet. But, apparently, your word was good enough for your patient.

“See, I told you. You worried for nothing,” she slapped your shoulder jestingly and you rolled your eyes, taking out a new bandage to re-wrap the wound.

“I wouldn’t say for nothing. After all, you have been stabbed and only received medical attention from an amateur,” you pointed out, giving her a chastising look when she tried to dismiss your troubles with a languid hand motion.

“I think you should be concerned by the fact that I seem to be more worried about your health than you are," you continued, undeterred, "How's the pain, by the way?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, waving away your concerns, “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I'll be fine”, Natasha insisted with emphasis, “Besides, I don’t like taking painkillers. Dulls the senses.”

If you weren’t as tired as you were, you might have argued a little more. Instead, all you did was sigh and give a curt nod to signal your understanding. You didn’t really get her at all. If she was just going to hang around your apartment for the next couple of days, then who cares if her senses are dulled? It wasn't like anyone knew she would be here.

You finished wrapping her wound, leaning back to observe it from afar. You were admittedly getting better at bandaging. So that was a plus point.

“Alright, that’s it,” you nodded pleased, starting to clean up. Natasha inspected your work as well, pulling her hoodie back down once she was satisfied.

“You’re surprisingly good. Have you ever done this before?”

Chuckling, you shook your head, closing the little dark green box on your lap.

“You mean have I ever stitched someone together before and let them take refuge in my home? No. Can’t say I have.”

She smiled at your sarcastic tone, rolling her eyes playfully, before smirking mischievously.

“Ah, I'm your first. I'm honoured.”

You flushed at the implication of her statement, trying to hide your embarrassment by fiddling with the first aid kit. Don’t overthink it. You do not want these kinds of thoughts right now. Not about her. Sure, she is beautiful and it is kind of fun to banter with her and she has probably the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen and her lips…

“So, what’s your verdict doc?” she nudged you back to reality, amusement in her voice. You cleared your throat, shaking your head to clear your previous thoughts away.

“You need rest. Lots of it. No putting unnecessary strain on your injury,” you explained distractedly, pulling the gloves from your hands and letting them drop into the trash can, “So, I forbid you from leaving the couch for anything other than using the bathroom. Like I said before, if you need something, ask me.”

“You forbid me? My, my, how bossy of you. Then again, your home, your rules.”

“I just don’t want you to make anything worse,” you replied earnestly, ignoring her teasing tone.

Natasha grinned, eyes sparkling, leaning dangerously close to you.

“It's cute how concerned you are,” she almost whispered, her breath ghosting over your face. You felt your heart speed up.

“Don’t tell me you care about this lil old stranger here.”

Needing to remove yourself from this situation, you practically jumped off the couch, trying to play your reaction off with an annoyed eye-roll and a huff.

“Don’t be so full of yourself. I just don’t want you to start bleeding again. Might end up ruining my carpet,” you explained, the words leaving your mouth so quickly, it was a wonder you didn’t stumble over them. You resolved to change the topic entirely.

“Want anything to eat? Drink?”

Without sparing a second, you walked over to the kitchen, idly opening the fridge and looking through it just to keep your mind busy and eyes away from her. The frigid air definitely helped cool down your heated face as well. So that was a nice side effect.

“Vodka on the rocks would be nice,” she quipped. You shook your head, well-aware that she couldn’t see you, hidden away behind the fridge door. Apparently, your silence was answer enough though, because only a few seconds later, she let out a concessive sigh.

“Fine. Water will do.”

Preparing her a glass, you carried it over to the living room area, nudging her foot with your leg to get her to take them off your coffee table. She complied begrudgingly, accepting the glass and draining most of it in one gulp. It was only when you noticed a single droplet running down her chin that you realized you were staring. Again. Very obviously. Immediately you averted your gaze, opting to eyeball the wall in the far distance.

“So, what are you gonna do today? Anything planned?”

What a terrible question.

“Not really,” you saw her shrug out of the corner of your eye, “But I do need to use your radio again. Would you mind grabbing it for me?”

“Uh, sure.”

You spotted the device on the tv cabinet. Handing it over, you made certain that it was plugged in for her, watching the red digits on the small display light up. For a moment you remained in place, observing her as she fumble with it, her forehead creased in concentration. Feeling awkward just standing around, you approached, anxiously rubbing at the back of your neck in search for something to say.

“Can I ask, what exactly is it that you do with it?”

She seemed to mull your question over, before patting the couch cushion next to her.

“Sit. I’ll show you.”

You do, making sure to keep a decent amount of distance between you while still being able to see what she was doing. Natasha showed you how to switch to a shortwave radio station and how to input messages to be transmitted. The static sound filled your apartment again, changing to a couple of high-pitched sounds once in a while when she enters a new code. It was fascinating, something that seemed entirely taken out of an old spy movie.

“So, you’re sending encoded messages to someone?” you summarised her explanation, intrigued, “Do you use morse code for the encryption?”

“Morse code. That’s cute,” Natasha let out a short laugh, shaking her head in amusement. The towel her hair was wrapped somehow stayed in place. She looked up at you with a cocky smile, her eyes meeting yours and taking your breath away for a moment.

“If I wanted all the other agencies in the world to know my location, then yes, I'd use morse code. No, this is my very own code. Only a handful of people know it.”

“Impressive. So this means you’re a spy, right?”, you asked as she continued working on her transmission, “Because this is textbook spy behaviour.”

Natasha didn’t reply. Not that you had expected her to. Yep, definitely a spy. That would also explain her injury and need to lay low for a few days.

“So, do all secret spies have their own encryption codes, or are you just special?”

“Oh, I think you’ll find that I’m very special,” she quipped seriously, not looking up from her task, “Once I'm recovered, I’ll gladly show you my special set of skills up close.”

You blinked, perplexed, cocking your head to the side.

“I’m not sure whether you’re trying to threaten or flirt with me,” you remarked, a frown settling on your face. The redhead turned the radio off, putting it down next to her and looking up at you with a big grin.

“And isn’t that just part of the fun?”

--------

Natasha, it turned out, had quite the talent for coming up with pick-up lines that could double as thinly veiled threats. You did your best not to show how flustered she made you, either changing the subject, feigning ignorance, or trying to come across as exasperated or annoyed instead. To be honest, you did rather enjoy her flirtatious remarks. After all, it wasn’t every day that such a beautiful and quick-witted woman hit on you, even if it was just in jest. She also had something rather mysterious about her that intrigued you. It was probably a spy thing.

She, in turn, seemed to grow more comfortable around you as time passed. Daring to express her emotions more openly without always relying on sarcasm or flirtation. The memory of making her laugh out loud for the first time - a real laugh that had her throwing her head back and crinkling her eyes - was practically ingrained into your mind. Even now, just thinking about it, brought a fond smile to your face and made your heart flutter.

You weren’t stupid. At least you liked to think you weren’t. No, you were fully aware of the fact that you were developing feelings for the secretive redhead. And you knew that it was a terrible idea, that you should fight it. After all, she would be leaving soon and you weren't likely to see her again. But resisting her charms was a lot harder than you had anticipated. Especially, when you had to share your small apartment.

So, instead, you decided to treasure whatever short time you did have with her. You cooked her your favourite dish, blushing when she complimented your skills in the kitchen. The two of you watched several movies huddled together on your couch. You had seen them all before but enjoyed watching her point out all the unrealistic plot points and inconsistencies, only to end up grinning like an idiot at the cheesy happy ending. You also came up with several bad and dorky jokes just to hear her laugh out loud again. It felt nice. Almost domestic and natural.

But in the end, Tuesday came sooner than you had hoped. All night long, you had laid tossing and turning in your bed, dreading what would happen.

The sun was not yet out when you heard the now-familiar sound of radio static coming from your living room. Suddenly very awake, you practically shot out of your bed and hurried out the door.

Natasha was already dressed to leave, hair pulled back into a braid. A few locks had escaped and framed her lovely face. She looked up when she heard you enter, putting the radio aside.

“Morning,” she greeted with a small smile, “You’re up uncharacteristically early. Did I wake you up?"

“It’s fine. Didn't sleep well anyways,” you assured her, brushing a hand through your hair. A moment of silence.

“So. It’s Tuesday, huh?”

“Observant as always. My colleague will be picking me up shortly if that is what you’re asking.”

Dread filled you. While you knew this moment was coming, you suddenly found yourself wholly unprepared for it.

“Then the air is clear again, right? Successfully laid low?”, you asked, fumbling with your hands as you rambled on, “That’s good. Great.”

The redhead quirked an eyebrow at you, shouldering a small duffel bag as she approached you.

“It is indeed great. Means I won’t be targeted the moment I step outside your door,” she commented casually. As if possibly being assassinated wasn’t a big deal.

“Right. Good,” you nodded in agreement, unsure what else to say to that. She stopped directly in front of you, regarding you curiously. Your pulse spiked.

“Need me to check out your wound again? One final examination before you’re dismissed from the hospital?” you offered. Natasha shook her head.

“I’m fine. You did a great job, doc,” she flashed you a big smile, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me these past few days.”

Face growing warm, you make a throw-away motion with your arm.

“No need to thank me. I really enjoyed spending time with you,” you tell her genuinely, meeting her green gaze. Her expression softened. she took another step closer. Your breath hitched at her close proximity.

“Me, too. But I’d still like to express my deep gratitude."

Something mischievous flashed in her eyes. Before you could ask her what she meant, she had already cupped your face and pulled your face to hers.

The moment your lips met, every other thought you had vanished from your mind. Electricity shot through your veins, your skin tingled where she touched you. After a moment you caught yourself and returned the kiss, pressing back against her, your hands carefully settling on her waist.

For a while, nothing else seemed to matter. Breathing, thinking, everything appeared rather trivial in comparison to this feeling of her lips on yours. It wasn't until a loud knock sounded on the door, that you broke apart. You were both breathing hard. Your eyes met and the smile she gave you had to be the most beautiful sight you had ever seen.

“My colleague’s here", she whispered, somehow breaking through the fog in your mind. Right. She was about to leave. You swallow against the lump that formed in your throat. Still unable to find words, you just nod, taking a small step back. You tried to keep the sadness off your face and most likely failed miserably.

To your surprise, she laughed, shaking her head.

“Don’t look so glum. This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“It doesn’t?” you asked hopefully. Natasha gave you a look full of adoration, pulling a small slip of paper from her pocket.

“I'll probably be busy for a few days, but I have nothing planned next week,” she pressed the paper into your palm. Unfolding it, you saw a phone number scribbled on it in blue ink. A big grin overtook your face as she continued.

“I'm sure we can work something out. I'd love to take you out.”

You meet her eyes, butterflies going wild in your stomach.

“Take me out as in on a date, or…?” you asked jokingly.

Wordlessly, she pressed a small kiss to your cheek.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

___________________________________________

taglist: @blackxwidowsxwife @fishlikestuff @madamevirgo @chickenhavewisdom

#natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fanfiction #black widow x reader

[donutloverxo]

Classy girls wear pearls

Written for @chrissquares @starlightcrystalline @amythedvdhoarder @drabblewithfrannybarnes ​ @pumpkin-and-pine challenge! Thanks chrissquares for the festive dividers! Used the prompt snowstorm + this gif!

Summary - Andy gives you a pearl necklace 👀

Warnings - 18+only please, smut(m/f), daddy kink, deep throat, d/s relationship, cum play.

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 1.4k

Masterlists are linked in the bio!

You grinned wickedly as you looked out your windows.

Your pretty suburban street, which is usually bustling with people trying to get to work and kids running around, school busses and such, now so quiet and quaint, covered in white, as if a pale blanket was draped over it.

You turned around when you heard your husband groaning, thinking that maybe he’d finally be up, but he simply slept on his back, mumbling something in his sleep.

You made your way over to the bed, ready to wake him up because you missed him - even though he was right fucking there - and you wanted to give him the good news. But then you noticed the tent in his briefs.

“It would be a nice early Christmas gift,” you mused, taking his morning wood out of the tight restraints and then looking back at him to see if you had woken him but he looked like sleeping beauty.

Deep in his slumber, his long dark lashes kissing his cheekbones, his naked chest falling and rising with ever breath he took.

Pumping him a couple of times with your palm, you swirled your tongue around his head, already weeping with pre-ejaculate, moaning as you tasted some of the salty liquid before you swallowed him whole. Or as much of him as you could. With how HUGE he was, it was always a struggle.

But you tried hard, remembered everything he had taught you, relaxed your throat till your nose touched the fuzzy soft curls at the base of his length. You tried to hold him there but then choked on him, the loud noise waking him up.

“What the...” he sprang up, causing his head to hit the back of your as you choked again, holding onto his thigh for support.

You looked to your side, blinking at him, you pulled him out with a loud ‘pop’, panting and trying to breath in some much needed oxygen. “Just wanted to wish you a good morning, daddy,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, “and give you an early Christmas present.”

He smiled down at you, caressing your cheek before holding onto the back of your head, “Thanks, honey, you’re the sweetest girl in this whole world. Always taking such,” pushing you back down on his cock, “good care of your daddy,” he sighed as you licked a stripe up his slit before rigorously sucking him.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, entranced by the sight of your plump behind, sliding your thin panties to the side before swirling your juices over your puffy lips, “and you’re fucking wet,” he observed, his Bostonian accent prominent in his voice.

Your cheeks heat up at being caught red handed, you avert your gaze, trying to get away from his fingers, slipping into your heat.

“Aw, is my girl shy? There’s no need to be, sweetheart,” you mewled as he curled his fingers inside you, “Look at me,” he ordered, and like a good little doll you followed looked back at him, “You always look at me when you suck my cock, do you understand?”

You nodded, not being able to verbally answer with your mouth full of cock or pull away since he had a tight grip on the back of your head.

“Hold on, honey,” he rasped, lifting his hips off the bed, making you gag again, “remember to breath through your nose, we don’t want you choking,” he groaned.

He kept driving his hips into your mouth, squelching sinful noises came from your mouth, you tried to breath through your nose as he had asked you to, ready to swallow his creamy goodies as you always do. It was a nice way you often start your day but then he pulled you off of his throbbing cock which was blushed pink.

“I’m gonna cum, doll,” he stroked his cock, pulling your head back, “Take off your nightie,” he ordered and you slipped the straps off, exposing your breasts to him.

“Daddy,” you huffed, jutting your lower lip out, trying to get a hold of his dick because you wanted to finish him off but he swatted you away with his other hand.

“Don’t pout, honey, daddy’s gonna give you a nice pearl necklace as a thank you,” his head fell back against his pillow, his balls tightening as spurts of his hot cum landed all over your chest and breasts.

“It’s pretty,” you giggled, swirling his cum around, maybe you liked this better than swallowing him down, it was as if he was marking his territory. “I belong to you now,” you lay to his side, putting your head over his chest to listen to his heart beat, which seemed to be calming down now.

“You’ve always belong to me,” he tutted, his hand back in your panties, spreading your weeping petals.

You moaned, grinding against his palm, arching your back when his palm brushes against your sensitive clit.

“Not now, sweetheart,” he cruelly took his hand away as you slapped his chest in frustration. He growled, “You best watch yourself, honey, I still have enough time to teach you a lesson,” he threatened, delivering a harsh slap to your ass.

You yelped, holding onto his pectoral and giggling.

“What’s so funny?” he wanted to know.

“They’ve made today a holiday! Because of a snowstorm that’s supposed to come tonight. So you can stay in bed all day!” you squealed, pecking his lips before nuzzling your nose against his soft beard.

“I’ll still have to work from home, sweetheart. But that’s good, because now I get to,” he flipped you so you were under him, looking at his spend on your chest with a heated gaze “Teach you a lesson. And some manners. Waking me up with such ill intent...”

***

You were snuggled up with a warm blanket on your couch, sitting up on a fluffy pillow because your ass was still sore from the ‘punishment’ Andy gave you that morning, a nice warm hot chocolate in hand with plenty of marshmallows.

You had dropped one off to Andy in his home office as well, with no marshmallows because he was no fun sometimes, hoping to maybe get some more action even though your pussy was still sore but he was too busy.

He promised to give you all the love and attention the whole week of holidays - starting tomorrow.

You had already decorated your entire home at the beginning of November, since you were a Christmas fanatic, and already cooked up a nice chicken roast and some fudge cake for dinner, there was nothing else to do.

You thought of maybe bothering Andy again but he’d just shoo you away like he did before.

You giggled as you felt a familiar pair of hands covering your eyes, “Is it Santa?” you tried to guess.

“Ho ho, it is!” he tried his best to speak in a deeper voice as you both laughed, “And I’ve got a treat for you!”

“But it’s not Christmas yet!” you squealed. Already excited to see what present he had for you. “Is it an ice cream cake? Or a new stuffie?”

Since you had not so subtly hinted at wanting a stuffed unicorn and rolled your eyes when he said you already have too many. As if anyone can have too many stuffies.

“Something much better,” he removed his hands, handing you a turquoise box and sitting next to you.

“From Tiffany’s?!” you screamed, opening it hastily, “oh my god, these are beautiful,” you marvelled at the ivory pearls, touching them hesitantly, they were the perfect size for you.

“I got some earrings to go with it too but you’ll have to wait till Christmas for them,” he took the necklace out of the box and worked on clasping it around your neck. Smiling fondly as they sat so beautifully on your neck, “Money well spent.”

“Thank you so so much,” you smothered his cheeks and his face with sloppy kisses, “I don’t have such a nice gift for you though.”

“You being here is gift enough, honey. I’m done with my work now and all yours,” he watched as your face lit up. His heart warm and excited to spend the holiday with his wife in his warm cosy home.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated❤❤

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#andy barber x y/n #andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #merryhoemas #chris evans x reader