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empresskylo · 8 months

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➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER

SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.

The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.

The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water.

With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go.

The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep.

“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained.

“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves.

“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”

Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”

“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”

“It’s too–”

You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”

“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly.

“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”

Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that.

“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price.

“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon.

“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”

He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building.

You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this.

“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder.

You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair.

You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in.

The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing.

Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream.

He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall.

Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing.

Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought.

He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind.

He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound.

He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.

You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone.

Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you.

You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic.

Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering.

But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack.

A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell.

His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him.

Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat.

Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan.

You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body.

You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.

It was Simon.

Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you.

“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare.

A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them .

You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.

He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came.

Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise.

You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in.

Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before.

You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction.

The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself.

Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.

Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair—felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory.

He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support.

You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time.

Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin.

His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time.

You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful.

When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life.

You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well.

But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you.

You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements.

You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all.

He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast.

You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.

Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever?

You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him.

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diejager · 4 months

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Dark!childhood best friend Johnny is going to eat away at my mind for the next couple days, thanks =)

Imagine him guilt tripping you into sex, "At least a blowjob Bonnie, please? Ah been yer best friend for forever." Giving you those big blue puppy dog eyes as he ruts against you.

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, blowjob, choking, throatpie, manipulation/coercion, guilt tripping, dacryphilia, tell me if I missed any.

”I don’t know, Johnny,” you bit your lower lip, staring at him with a nervous gleam and answered his hesitantly. You truly wanted to help Johnny, but you didn’t think it appropriate to blow your best friend, especially after your recent break up.

“One, Bonnie, just one.”

Johnny was always insistent, used to getting what he wanted from you as children and teens, your younger and naive mind listening to everything he said. Perhaps he was used to it, but you’ve changed as much as he did, growing up happy but tired with work and life. You’d been hit on, men coming up to you for a quick fuck or to take advantage of you, and how fortunate was it that Johnny was your best friend. That meant you knew a few tricks you’ve heard from prior experience and your friends, but this was Johnny, your childhood best friend who stuck by your side through thick and thin.

“Johnny…” you stammer when he pressed on, cornering you against the couch in your shared flat, his cock - a big and hard and hot mass - rutting your thigh, his hips rucking up your loose shorts, “I’m not sure if-“

He pouted. Johnny pouted, lips pulled down and his pretty, blue eyes gleaming while he begged you to serve him once, he even threw you his puppy eyes. He pressed himself closer to you, hands finding your hips and pulling you into him, his still growing bulge grinding against your burning core, tingling with the fresh flames of pleasure. He groaned, nuzzling your shoulder and panting loudly, his hot breath hitting your neck in loud puffs and grunts.

“Just one, please? Ah been yer best friend fer so long, dinnea ah deserve one, Bonnie?” You couldn’t tell him no when he looked at you with such a pleading expression, sounding so exhausted and restless.

The moment you gave him a tentative nod, Johnny had you kneeling between his legs, excitedly reaching under his pants to pull out his cock. It hung between his legs, heavy with girth and slightly longer than your ex, balls thick with unspent cum and his trimmed hair musky. You’ve seen his naked body before - from the many shared showers and many moments of comfort - but you never really stared at the length and girth of him. Your flustered cheeks made him coo, running his thumb under your eye and letting you take your time, hands wrapping around the base and wetting your dry lips.

You kissed his engorged tip, tongue swirling around it before wrapping your lips around the head, sucking until your cheeks hollowed and bobbing your head lightly. He tasted salty, the dripping pre rolling down your throat each time you took him deeper, slow and careful because of his size. He was thicker than what you were used to, the girth of his cock hard and covered in crossing veins, bulging and throbbing with a pulse; and he was longer than what you’ve had, the head hitting so deeply, making your throat choke around his cock with every drag over your tongue to the back of your mout.

You jerked the rest of his cock, the part that you couldn’t take, with your hands, fingers dragging the skin across his length and traveling down to cup his balls, fondling with his heavy balls. He swore loudly, unabashed and shamelessly moaning out your name, his fingers running through your hair and tightening and pulling when he hit the back of your throat, his cock jumping when you audibly gagged. His whole body shuddered when he caught the first tears under your fluttering lashes, some stray tears rolled down your cheek, gleaming under the living-room light.

“‘M close, Bonnie,” he rasped, softly running his fingers through your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper and deeper —to let him fill your stomach with him.

Invigorated by his words, you bobbed your head faster, choking down your retching and tears, feeling him twitch on your tongue and his pre thickening. He mumbled out a few incoherent words, praises and compliments, telling you how well you were doing and how his best friend had such a good mouth. He let slip out that he would’ve asked for this favour a while back if he knew your mouth was so hot and tight.

“Moan fer me, let me feel ya.”

You moaned and mewl, letting the sound shake through your throat and mouth vibrating his whole cock, head sinking down on him and slick hands still pumping what you couldn’t fit, coaxing him to come down your throat. When he came, he thrust his hips up, forcing him much deeper as tangy cum spurted from his tip, painting your mouth and throat in thick, white seed. His body shuddered, head thrown back, back arched and limbs tense, holding you still while you swallowed down his cum.

You gasped and panted when he pulled you off, eyes lidded and lips swollen from the stretch of his shaft. He whispered out praises, pulling you to his lap and peppered your face with doting kisses. He kissed your tears away, and he kissed your lips, his tongue pushing past your teeth and tasting himself in your mouth. Smiling softly at your fiery blush, he pressed his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes with a cheeky expression that made you frown.

“Let me return the favour?”

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reilemon · 27 days

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Under The Stars ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw:unprotected sex, tent sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, pussy job, cum swallowing

♡︎word count: 3.9k

♡︎synopsis: What happens when you share a tent with your crush? The story starts where the memory Precious Bonfire ends.

♡︎a/n: I wrote this during my ovulation week. Also, I went over this once, so if you see any mistakes, no you don't.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

Xavier looks up from the game card “Ah, I figured out what I want my payment to be.” He smiles softly at you and hands you the card, “Tell me when you’re overwhelmed next time.”

A little confused, you absent-mindedly take the card that’s not even yours. “That doesn’t sound like a payment.”

“Well, it is.”

“No, it’s not. Think of something else!” You say with playfulness in your voice. Of course you don’t mind accepting to “pay him off” in this way, but he’s been so helpful and resourceful today, that you’d feel bad for asking for more assistance.

He just shakes his head and stands up from his seat in the camping van, and walks away. End of discussion, I guess.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

You spent a few minutes sitting alone in the van, decompressing, but also thinking of ways to return the favor. Seriously, what’s a good way to show him your gratitude? You know he’s not doing this because he expects something in return. Xavier is a genuine and sweet soul, someone who is reliable (except in the kitchen) with a soothing presence. He never seems overwhelmed, even when he lights his oven on fire.

You sigh wistfully. You were hoping he was going to say “Let’s go on a date!” or “Can I sleep in your tent?” or maybe “You know, the front of my pants is feeling a little tight, could you lend me a hand –“ you blush, hiding your face in your hands. If only.

You glance at your phone to look at the time. You decide you’ve spent enough time away from everyone, letting your mind wander – how big is it? – okay, you really need to focus and go back to your colleagues.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

The rest of the evening went uneventful – you hung out with your friends, cleaned up the mess and then took a relaxing shower. Somewhere between cleaning up and the shower, you swiped a pack of chocolate covered strawberries from the mafia game winner. You wanted those strawberries the moment your eyes landed on them in that pile of snacks. And you’ll buy them later and give them back, so technically you’re borrowing them!

Besides, you want to give them to Xavier as a small thank you. He deserves more than this, but it will do for now.

Anyway, after the refreshing shower, you’re looking around the campsite. Most of your colleagues are cozying up in their tents, only a few still talking and drinking outside. Where’s Xavier?

You saw him earlier hanging out with others, but now… your eyes land on his figure, lounging by a tree away from all the tents.

You approach him. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep outside.”

Xavier, not opening his eyes, says “I have no problem sleeping outside.”

“Well, as the captain of this group, I very much do.” You extend your arm towards him “C’mon, you can sleep in my tent.”

He opens his eyes as he hears the offer. “Are you – “

You grab his hand, “Yes, the tent is big enough for the two of us.” You suddenly remember that you only brought one blanket, but this summer night is nice and breezy so it shouldn’t be an issue.

Hesitant at first, Xavier nods and gets up while holding your hand. He moves his backpack to your tent and goes to take a shower, giving you time to change into pajama shorts and tank top; not really appropriate in this situation, but who cares!

As you spread out the blanket over the sleeping mat and two pillows, (yes, two, the other one was meant for your knees), you sit there waiting for him and then you realize – wow, it’s kinda fucking cold in here!

You were so focused on being a good captain and taking care of everyone that it completely slipped your mind that you should pack warmer pajamas and maybe a sleeping bag; it doesn’t matter that it’s summer, nights are always colder in the woods.

As you wonder if the blanket will be warm enough, from the corner of your eye you notice Xavier approaching the tent. He’s wearing a loose white t-shirt and gray cotton shorts. You move a little to make room for him, and when he crouches to step inside, your eyes are glued to his muscular legs. The staring makes you miss the way Xavier’s eyes take in your figure, the smooth skin of your thighs and your pebbled nipples poking underneath your top.

You quickly shift your gaze to his face; he’s looking around the tent. Suddenly you’re nervous. It hits you that you’ll be sleeping next to Xavier in this small ass tent. You feel an awkward tension, so you say “I hope this is enough room for you! I don’t have one more blanket but I do have an extra pillow!”

Xavier chuckles, and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s good enough for me. I just hope you’re comfortable with this.”

“Of course I am!” You say very convincingly. As you nervously shift, your thigh grazes the box of strawberries. Right, I almost forgot! You take them and offer the box to him. “Here, a small token of my gratitude.”

He eyes the fruit, not taking them immediately. “Where did you get those?”

“The winner gave them to me.”

“Really?”

“I stole them.” You say with a shy smile. Some things are just impossible to hide from him.

He chuckles, “I’ll take them, but only if you have some as well.”

You agree and he opens the box, placing it between you two.

You’re the first one to try them, and you’re so pleased that your little crime paid off. And by Xavier’s little mm! you know that he enjoys the sweetness of chocolate and the strawberries as well. You sit there for a while, eating and chatting about whatever; mostly about the books he’s been reading and the new game both of you started playing.

You don’t feel that tired anymore. It’s probably the shower that washed away all the fatigue of the day. And the adrenaline from talking, not only talking but sharing a tent and then later sleeping next to your crush. You’re actually so excited you could run laps around the campsite, but at the same time so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself.

After you take another bite of the fruit, you notice that Xavier’s eyes are lingering on your lips? No, your cheek?

His hand slowly goes towards your face, and you stand still, unsure of what he wants. His ring finger gently wipes the corner of your mouth.

He smiles, “You had some chocolate there.”

When he’s about to lick his finger, you joke “Hey! You’re taking my chocolate!”

He stops for a second, looks at the finger, then at you. “You’re right. Do you want it back?” He asks with that teasing glint in his eyes as he holds the digit in front of your lips.

You’re stunned for a moment, trying to read the situation. Does he really want you to lick it off?

Okay, you can play along; with your eyes on his, you start to lick the chocolate. Xavier’s eyes widen for a split second, his lips slightly part as he watches you lick and suck his finger clean. It made his shorts tighter, and he hopes that you don’t notice the outline of his erection on his gray shorts.

And you’re so frustrated at yourself because of how wet this little interaction made you.

When you’re done, with a light blush on his cheeks, he pulls back his hand and clears his throat. “You’re really good at this.”

You only sheepishly smile and continue the conversation like nothing happened.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

“You didn’t bring a sleeping bag?” Xavier asks as you as you both get ready to sleep. It’s gotten late, it’s dead silent as everyone around you is sleeping or trying to fall asleep. You’re surprised that Xavier managed to stay awake this long.

You admit that you forgot the fact that it’s colder at night here than back in the city. “But the blanket should be big enough for both of us.” You offer to go ask someone for one more blanket, but he refuses and says that he’s worried about you being cold.

His eyes scan over your barely covered body “I can borrow you my hoodie. But it smells like campfire.”

“I’m gonna to be fine. Let’s just go to sleep.” You reassure him (and yourself). With that, both of you lie down, your backs turned, and cover yourself with a blanket that is not enough for two people.

Xavier lets you take most of it, but tries to not make it obvious, so he holds onto it, only his back covered.

Ten, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes pass, you don’t know. You just can’t fall asleep. Not only because your ass is freezing, but because he is lying right next to you. And judging by his deep breathing, he’s asleep. Of course he is. You turn on your back and stare at the stars peeking through the mesh screen of the tent. You don’t want to move around too much or step outside because you don’t want to wake him. He’s had an exhausting day too.

You turn on your side, facing his back. You can’t see much in the dark tent, the only light source being the moon and the stars, and faint fairy lights outside. But it’s visible enough to admire his light fluffy hair and how wide his back is. You crave to trace your fingers over his shirt, through his hair… you completely took over the blanket!

You cover his figure, but then you’re a little exposed. With a sigh, you move closer to him as quietly as possible. Now, time to turn around in the same manner. But, Xavier is already switching to his other side, turning to you, and you’re so close, almost nose to nose and he opens his eyes.

You’re holding in your breath, freezing in place. “Sorry.” You whisper. “I just wanted to cover you.”

His sleepy eyes stare at yours, then at your lips. It takes him a second to register your words. “You’re still awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you cold?”

You take second before answering “Maybe.”

“Turn around.”

You do as you’re told expecting him to roll you into the blanket like a burrito and then you’d feel really bad. Those thoughts evaporate when you feel his warm arm slip around your waist, pulling your back against his strong, yet soft, chest, while his lower body keeps a respectful distance.

His breath tickles the skin of your neck, making you shiver. “Is this okay?”

You only muster a squeaky ‘mhm’, and then he falls silent again, with his face nuzzled against your neck. You close your eyes, and try to count sheep.

One sheep…two sheep… your arm gets uncomfortable so you place it over his that’s resting on your waist, the contact making his hand search your hand, entangling his fingers with yours, and then pulling you in a tighter embrace.

Exhaling a shuttering breath, you continue… three sheep… you’ve been keeping your legs pin straight this whole time and they’re starting to feel stiff and sore. But if you bend them, they’ll be exposed to cold air, but if you curl up you’ll be pressing your butt against Xavier’s crotch, or at least lower belly.

Four sheep…

The gentle whisper of your name against your ear makes you yelp. You thought he fell asleep.

Xavier repeats your name, and you can hear the smirk on his lips “Position yourself however you please. I want you to be comfortable.”

You exhale a breath you’ve been holding. “Okay.”

You move into the fetus position, making yourself as comfortable as possible, warm in his embrace, your bottom keeping an awkward distance from his lower half. You bite your bottom lip and try to regulate your breathing. He can probably feel how fast your heart is beating. You think how it’s unfair that he can feel how flustered you are.

You feel his slow heartbeat, but you can’t see his feverish red cheeks.

“Is it better now?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s just that...” It’s just that your legs and buttocks are still cold.

When you don’t finish your sentence, he nudges your neck with his nose. “Your legs are cold.”

The hand on your waist moves and his fingers lightly glide over your upper thigh. When you don’t protest, he starts caressing, warming up your skin. The contact makes you hot between your legs, making you unconsciously rub your thighs and arch your back, your butt backing up against his front.

You immediately flinch, jolting your middle forward outside the covers. “Sorry.” You mumble, your cheeks burning in embarrassment, your body staying in that awkward position.

Xavier can’t help but laugh at the position you’re in. He rubs your shoulder in an attempt to console you. “It’s okay. I don’t mind”

It takes you a few seconds to muster up the courage to go back under the cover, closing the distance between your bodies, letting him spoon you.

You feel like you could melt in his arms; he’s so warm, smells like fresh linen and herbal hair shampoo. Even though you’re still nervous, your body is able to relax and press further against him, unintentionally grinding your soft bottom against his quickly hardening length.

Your pussy clenches as you feel his clothed hard dick against you. He doesn’t say anything, but shift a little further from you.

You don’t know if it’s the weariness, the horniness, or the boldness (if you can call it that), that makes you whisper. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” And you close the distance again, this time slowly sliding your ass against him to prove your point.

A shuddering breath leaves his lips, as he starts moving at your pace. He shifts to rest on his elbow and his hand moves up to cup your cheek, and you turn to face him, your hips halting the movement.

He gazes into your eyes and nudges the tip of your nose with his. He softly breathes your name and his soft warm lips leave a feather light kiss on yours. He waits for your reaction with those puppy eyes that always make you weak.

With the hand that was under you, you hold the side of his face and pull him into a soft kiss. Your lips softly graze and nip as Xavier adjusts his body, elbows resting on either side of your head, his chest resting against yours, but his pelvis is hovering against yours.

You decide to be the one to take the next step; fingers of one hand run through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your tongue glosses his bottom lip and slipping inside, tasting his. The other hand pushes down his lower back, and he takes the hint.

You gasp into the kiss as his dick grinds right between your clothed folds, grazing your clit just right. Your cheeks and core are burning as Xavier starts rutting waster and harder, you can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest. Both of you are panting between kisses, suppressing moans and whines.

He breathes against your lips “We should stop.” When he notices a flash of disappointment on your face, he adds, “It’s so easy to hear everything here.”

You nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” You gulp and take in deep breaths. Your tent is the furthest from the rest, but still close enough to hear if someone is getting it on.

He rolls over to his side, still facing you. His eyes take in your features as his fingertips graze over them. He pulls you in by the back of your head into a slow kiss. Your lips taste each other, tongues licking, his teeth playfully nibbling your bottom lip.

The hand on the back of your hand travels over your jaw to hold your chin, and a deep sigh leaves his lips. He whispers, “It’s so hard to hold back.” and the continues tasting your plump lips.

Those words make your panties wetter than they were. You throw your leg over his hips and soon you’re straddling him, and his arms envelop you, pressing your body flush against his, his hips bucking up to meet yours once again.

But you crave more contact and so does Xavier. At the same time, Xavier pulls down his shorts and you take off yours. A whimper escapes your lips as you sit back down on his rock hard dick, your sexes only separated by thin fabric.

He pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss, his hands grabbing your ass, moving your hips in the same rhythm with his. The friction feels so good, too good. Your pussy is creaming so much, making a mess of your panties and his boxer briefs. Then he shifts his hips a little and his cockhead starts hitting and rubbing your clit over and over, and you’re mewling and panting into the sloppy kiss.

He smirks against your lips. “Honey, I need you to stay quiet. I don’t want anyone else to hear you like this.”

The heat pools in the bottom of belly. “Xavier, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Is my little bunny feeling good?” He pants, and by the twitching of his cock, you think he’s close too.

You hold back a disappointed whine when he puts a distance between your hips, but then you feel him push down his boxers freeing his throbbing dick. He pulls your panties to the side and brings your hips back down, your dripping pussy lips sliding against his thick length, and he immediately locks your lips with his, swallowing your moan.

He has you in a tight embrace, one hand on the plump flesh of your ass and the other on the back of your neck. His lips leave a wet trail from your lips over your jaw to the shell of your ear, and you listen to his restrained pants and grunts.

His hot breath fans over your ear “Let’s come together.” He pulls up both of your shirts a bit, and you feel his hard ab muscles tensing against your skin.

You can only nod as the tip starts hitting your clit again, and in a few seconds you’re coming undone on top of him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your moans.

Xavier follows shortly after, his cum spilling over both of your bellies.

You take a moment to calm down and you notice that he’s still as hard. You come up to meet his gaze.

His eyes are veiled with so much lust and craving. “I – “

“Please, fuck me.” You need more.

With those three magic words, he’s on top of you again, his shirt and the blanket disregarded somewhere in the corner. He pushes your tank top over your breasts, his hot lips latching onto your nipple while his fingers play with the other one, while his cock is sliding with ease between your slippery folds.

You know that he wants to prep you more, but you feel like you’ve been edged for too long, your hole clenching around nothing.

Xavier’s breath hitches against your nipple when you reach down and wrap your hand around his member, feeling how long and thick he is (he’s longer than your thought).

He comes up and holds your gaze as you tease the tip against your soaking entrance “I need you now.”

His hand switches with yours, slowly easing into you, his gaze never leaving yours. He swallows thickly, and cursing under his breath as he feels your walls clench around him.

And you’re a mess under him, biting your lip to contain your moans and whines, but your pussy is already fluttering around his length, second orgasm building up.

When he’s finally buried to the hilt, he rests his body on top of yours, neither of you caring about the slippery cum between you, if anything it spurs you on even more.

He slowly starts rolling his hips, his lips leaving open mouth kisses over your collar bone and your neck. You fingers find purchase in his hair and nails lightly scrape the skin over his taut back muscles. In your daze you take a moment to admire his strong back and then you move your hand from his back to grab his biceps. Fuck, you wish there was more light here.

Xavier’s lips lock with yours in a sloppy kiss, his tip grazing your sweet spot with every thrust while his fingertips rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. His voice is raspy from all the strangled groans, “You’re squeezing me so hard, princess. Are you gonna come for me?”

You only manage a small moan in response, and you don’t even care if you’re loud. And the wet smacking of his pelvis against your creamy cunt is already giving you away.

You barely give any warning as suddenly another orgasm crashes over you, his free hand covering your mouth. He coos in your ear that’s right and you’re so pretty and sweet names that you barely register as you whimper against his hand and your pussy spasms around his cock.

As you come down from your high, he picks up the pace and soon you notice him twitching inside you, his hips stuttering and his pants becoming shallower.

He murmurs “Where do you want me?”

You fight back the urge to say ‘inside’, you want him to fill you up so bad, but now is not the place to make that kind of mess.

Still, you don’t want spill it outside. “Use my mouth.”

His face burns and his dick painfully throbs at those words. You rest on your elbows as he pulls out and straddles your waist, his hand resting on your head.

You let him guide the tip past your lips, and you swirl your tongue around it tasting your mixed juices. He swallows a moan as you take him in deeper; swollen lips enveloping his cock, tongue swirling, tasting him, and grazing his pulsing veins, and he can’t help the pang of jealousy that hits him with how good you’re at this.

Pushing those thoughts back, he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re taking me so good.”

He starts thrusting, unable to hold back much longer. He whispers between pants “Tap my arm if I go too hard.”

You hum against his length, focused on relaxing your throat as his cockhead starts hitting more and more with each thrust and stutter of his hips.

You feel him throb hard in your mouth, and his hand travels under your chin. You hear him demand with a strangled groan “Look at me.”

Your eyes lock with his, the sight of you sucking him in with a fucked-out face making him tip over the edge, filling your mouth with his hot cum.

He takes shaky breaths as he twitches in your mouth as you suck him and swallow each drop, not letting anything go to waste.

After he pulls out, he sits next to you and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips.

He holds your face in his hands, his nose nudging yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod and kiss him again. And then you feel cold air hit the wet spots on your body. You chuckle “We need to get cleaned up, though.”

With that, you wipe yourselves with wipes and dress up to make an awkward walk towards the bathroom. You just hope that no one heard what you were doing in the tent. Or the shower.

#love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #xavier smut #lads smut #lads xavier #lads x reader #xavier x reader #xavier x you #xavier fic #love and deepspace xavier #banner by cafekitsune

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year

Text

love will find a way

Characters: Riddle, Deuce, Azul, Vil

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions, bot proofread

Word count: 3.6k+

Notes: for cohesiveness sake, all the name ideas are in japanese. if it makes you uncomfortable, you can imagine that reader is japanese hehe

Part 1✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Yoshikazu (義和) with 義 meaning "righteous" and 和 meaning "harmony, peace"

your son had straight strawberry-red hair and greyish-blue eyes that reminded you of the stormy skies

Riddle's strong belief in upholding the rules, as well as his desire for peace and order, made the name perfect for your boy

he strives for perfection in everything he does, and has a strong attention to detail and dislikes anything that falls short of his high standards

he is slightly shy with strangers, but he's always polite and tries to be helpful

he likes to act mature so you won’t have to worry too much about him, but he not so secretly craves your affection and praise

if you don’t give him a goodnight kiss, he’ll stare at you with puppy eyes thinking he did something wrong

under your guidance, he’s actually rather helpful in the kitchen, although he can easily get upset when he thinks he did a poor job or wasn’t precise enough

in those moments, you often show him that not everything has to be absolutely perfect

see? the strawberry tart still tastes delicious, right?

he’s also rather quick at learning, and when you’re unsure about the magic concepts or formulae in your foggy memory, let him work at it for a bit and somehow, boom, he’s solved it

he tries to hide it, but his eyes are sparkling with admiration when you told him about the dedicated and fair man Riddle is, and he really wants to meet him

and through his hard work, he teleports the two of you into a well-lit and organised office, with stacks of papers placed neatly on the desk

Riddle sits at the desk, his face more angular having lost his baby fat, but his gaze remained as intense as it always had

Riddle meticulously reviews a case file, his focus unwavering as he flips through the pages. Suddenly, a swirl of iridescent light materialises in the corner of the room, catching his attention. He pushes himself away from the desk, knocking his chair backwards with a thud as he stands up, watching in disbelief as you emerge from the ethereal portal, a small boy clinging onto you tightly.

"My Rose…is it...is it truly you?" Riddle's voice wavers with a combination of astonishment and longing. His stormy grey eyes lock onto your gaze, searching for confirmation that this was indeed real.

His heart swells with a surge of emotions, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He takes hesitant steps forward, closing the distance between you. As he reaches out a trembling hand, he hesitates for a fraction of a second before wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, pulling you close.

"I've missed you so much," Riddle whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I've yearned for this moment, to hold you again, to see your face."

after the heartfelt reunion, Riddle leaves work early and takes a holiday, something he has never done before for reasons other than sickness

he takes the two of you back to his house and you spend some time catching up

he’s become a successful lawyer, having deviated from the path his mother had intended for him

that, along with his refusal to be in an arranged marriage by her will, has him basically disowned

but he’s happy with where he is in life, only he wished to find a love as fulfilling as the one he had with you

now that you’re back, Riddle does everything he can to support you in adjusting to life back with him

he’s super expressive and affectionate and savours every moment he has with you

he does get a little jealous of Yoshikazu getting all your affection, and this has resulted in all three of you sleeping together cuddled up

Riddle tries to learn how to cook because he can’t be worse than his son right??

wrong

but the two of them do get along really well, Riddle loves reading bedtime stories to Yoshikazu, and Yoshikazu tries so hard to stay awake till the end

Yoshikazu also loves visiting uncle trey’s bakery!

eventually, he might try to reconcile with his mother and have her meet the two of you, but his priority is on the two of you

Riddle's eyes show a mix of emotions, a kaleidoscope of love, regret, and gratitude. He bends down, his hands trembling, to meet Yoshikazu's gaze. A cascade of emotions surges through him as he realises the precious bond he had unknowingly missed out on.

"My child," Riddle whispers, his voice filled with awe and wonder. "I never imagined..."

Yoshikazu reaches out a tiny hand, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Riddle's heart melts as he gingerly takes his hand, feeling an overwhelming wave of love and protectiveness.

"Father?" Yoshikazu's voice was a gentle whisper, filled with innocence and trust.

Riddle's eyes shimmer with tears that threaten to spill over. He carefully extends his hand, allowing his small fingers to intertwine with his own.

"Yes," Riddle replies, his voice overflowing with tenderness. "I am honoured to be your father. I will protect you, guide you, and cherish you always, my precious bud."

Koushi (功志) with 功 meaning "a success, a great achievement" and 志 meaning "purpose, will, determination, aspiration, ambition"

your son had sleek dark hair that reminded you of the night sky, and bright cyan eyes

Deuce placed great importance on personal growth and the pursuit of success, valuing hard work and the satisfaction that comes from achieving one's goals, so you implemented those values into your son's name

he takes his tasks and activities seriously and is motivated to excel in everything he does

but at the same time, he also struggles with being patient and occasionally becomes frustrated when things don't go his way

there are many times you’re trying to console him, and he’s just standing there, fists clenched and trying to hold back tears

when you rub the back of his head though, he melts and starts crying into your chest

he can be impulsive and mischievous, but once the high passes, he’s apologising and he really didn’t mean to hurt anyone or anything

just like his father, his favourite food is egg dishes, so it’s not difficult cooking for him

generally, he’s not picky and gobbles up anything you make him except vegetables

yeahh, the vegetables are going to need some convincing, and he’ll make a big show about how he hates the taste, but still reluctantly swallows his greens

he’s not the brightest, but he strives to be the best he can be, eagerly practising and studying magic concepts, though he faces some challenges in grasping complex concepts quickly

he became so curious when you told him how much his father valued hard work, asking question after question to learn more about him

and through trial and error, somehow, he managed to teleport you to a street of residential buildings, the fresh scent of roses filling your senses

and Deuce stood in shock in front of you, looking more mature and yet still possessing that dorky lovable presence

Deuce, donned in his crisp uniform, patrols the streets with a focused gaze. As he turns a corner, his eyes widen and his heart skips a beat. There, before him, stands the silhouette of a familiar figure, obscured by the shimmering waves of nostalgia, accompanied by a small boy.

"Prefect… I’m not dreaming, am I?" Deuce murmurs, his voice tinged with disbelief and a touch of vulnerability. His pulse quickens, and he takes a tentative step forward, his hands trembling with both trepidation and longing.

Tears well up in his eyes as you nod, a mixture of emotions playing across your face. The weight of your absence suddenly lifts, and without a second thought, Deuce closes the distance between you, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace.

"You're here. You're really here," Deuce whispers, his voice choked with emotion. He presses his forehead against yours, savouring the moment and the warmth of your presence.

once Deuce has calmed down, he takes you back to his house, where he lives with his mom to take care of her more

Deuce has become a successful police officer, and he’s decided to work in his hometown to keep the neighbourhood safe for his mom

after a quick introduction to Mrs. Spade, she’s very happy to meet you and her grandson

though she does glare at Deuce for a bit given you had to raise Koushi alone

she immediately starts gushing over Koushi and how similar he is to Deuce when he was a kid

Koushi is a little confused, but you can tell he loves listening to his grandmother and hearing about his father as an infant

Deuce can’t just leave his job whenever he wants to, but he dedicates all of his free time to the two of you

after work, he’ll take Koushi on runs, and sometimes they’ll pick a bouquet of wildflowers from a nearby field to give to you and Mrs. Spade

on weekends, you often go on family outings, like visiting the aquarium, camping, or visiting old friends!

uncle ace is Koushi’s favourite, teaching him magic tricks and telling him all the embarrassing things Deuce did back in NRC

and though Deuce had never prepared himself for parenting, he’s doing his best and making sure the two of you are happy, just like he is with the family all together

Deuce breaks the embrace and drops to one knee, his eyes meeting the Koushi's. A mixture of awe and tenderness dances in his gaze as he extends a hand toward the small boy. "Hey there, little guy. I'm your dad. My name's Deuce. What’s your name?" he asks, his voice gentle.

Koushi steps forward, hesitantly reaching out to grasp Deuce's hand. "Koushi," he answers meekly. A spark of connection passes between them, a shared understanding and an unspoken bond.

Tears stream down his cheeks as he continues, his voice filled with a mix of joy and remorse. "Koushi, I'm sorry it took me so long, to be the father you deserved. But from this moment on, I promise you, I'll be there for every step of your journey. We'll make up for lost time together, yeah?"

Akuru (渥瑠) with 渥 meaning "kindness, moisten" and 瑠 meaning "lapis lazuli"

your daughter had clear aquamarine eyes that reminded you of the sparkling ocean, and silver locks that curled naturally to frame her face

Azul had always adhered to the spirit of benevolence, so the name seemed perfect

she's quite a shy little girl, when she's in front of strangers, she'll ask you to carry her so she can hide her face in your neck

there's no way you can resist when she's staring at you with such bright eyes, her tiny arms reaching up for you to hold her

she's extremely greedy for affection just like Azul was once he let his guard down around you

she has the squishiest cheeks!!!

she also tends to observe and listen rather than being the centre of attention

but when she's alone with you, it's evident she inherited Azul's sharp intellect and has a natural aptitude for academics

you often told her about the brilliant man her father is, how hard he worked so he could become a version of himself he was proud of

the way her eyes sparkled when she heard about him reminded you of Azul's ambitious looks when he's making deals

incredibly talented at magic, she understood everything so quickly and it wasn't too long until you couldn't be much help to her anymore

but worry not, because she has brought the two of you back to your dearest lover by some accident in her experiments

Azul is sitting in a dimly lit office, his dark eye circles are evident, but he looked more beautiful than you had ever seen him

Azul sits at his desk fully engrossed in work, his quill gliding swiftly across the parchment. A sudden gust of magic sweeps through the air, causing Azul to stand in alarm, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. But as the magical energy settles, his hand freezes mid-air, his eyes widening in disbelief as your figure emerges.

His breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. "It... can't be... Can it?", he whispers as he manoeuvres himself over to you, his legs trembling as if it was his first time on land.

You reach out to take his hand, your familiar warmth and presence casting away the doubt in him. His eyes well up with tears, and a radiant smile spreads across his face.

"Oh, Angelfish... You're here...", he cries as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

he's so emotional he can't stop crying

it's to the point where his tears are slightly inky

he wishes he was in his merform so he could hug the two of you properly at the same time

it's at this point jade and floyd bust into the room to see the three of you huddled together on the floor

the two of them start teasing Azul for being a crybaby, but you can tell they're genuinely happy for him

Azul, as he had planned back in NRC, had conquered all forms of business, forming an incredibly successful corporation

now that he has the two of you back though, he immediately takes a break from work so he can make up for the time lost

Azul's a bit awkward, and he's so afraid you've found someone new or don't love him anymore

but with time, and plenty of your affection, he's loving and comfortable and completely at ease with you, just like the old days

he uses this break to spend time together with you two as a family, going on family outings, discovering hobbies, etc.

takes the two of you to the coral sea to meet mama ashengrotto

oh she loves you and can't stop spoiling Akuru

he makes a lot of effort to be present in Akuru's life, and he wants nothing more than for her to be happy

and fortunately, Akuru is very comfortable with Azul, though it takes time for her to trust him on the same level as you

but you've got all the time in the world to love and grow with your dear family now

bonus: uncle jade and uncle floyd who always bring out the ambitious side of Akuru!

Azul's breath catches in his throat as he looks down at the small girl peeking from behind your legs, his heart swelling with a love he had never thought possible. Akuru's innocent eyes meet his, mirroring his own shades of blue.

"Hello, Akuru," he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and awe. He crouches down to her level, his eyes locked with hers. "I... I'm your father. It’s nice to meet you."

Akuru's small hand reaches out, hesitantly brushing against his cheek. The touch sends shivers down Azul's spine, his heart bursting with overwhelming emotions. Tears spill freely down his cheeks as his arms wrap around her fragile frame.

"I've missed so much... I'm so sorry," Azul says, his voice laced with remorse. Akuru nestles closer, burying her face in the crook of Azul's neck, as if instinctively seeking solace in the embrace of her father. "Oh, I promise you, my dear, I will make up for lost time. I will protect you, love you, and be the father you deserve."

Misaki (望咲) with 望 meaning "ambition, hope, desire" and 咲 meaning "bloom, blossom, flourish"

your daughter had silky blonde, hair and violet eyes reminded you of the lavender plant Vil kept in his room

you knew through Vil's dedication towards beauty and his strictness that he values hard work and effort, and so you named your daughter hoping she would flourish in whatever ambitions she pursued

like her father, she carries herself with a certain regal air that’s beyond her age

she's incredibly strict with herself, though occasionally you'll have to tell her to relax a bit and be more carefree

she listens to you a lot though, she loves making her mommy proud!

and though she might put up a front and act confident with strangers, when she's alone with you, she's surprisingly docile and affectionate

she is enchanted by the media and drawn to acting, always reenacting scenes from movies or shows you watched with her

she asks for bedtime stories every night, but it’s more of the two of you doing a dramatic reading and playing around with character voices

she also loves to play around with different hairstyles and outfits, and even experimenting with your makeup

though she’s rather displeased with her lacklustre makeup skills, she loves it when you do her makeup for her, making her feel like a star

she’s incredibly smart and fast to pick up on the magical concepts, though she’s slower with practical magic

when you told her about the meticulous and dedicated man her father was, she was fascinated by how confident and strong he sounded

and with diligent practice, it isn’t long before she manages to teleport you to a well-lit room with a modern design

Vil is sitting on the couch studying his latest movie, his hair is in a messy bun and he is wearing glasses and he is the most beautiful person you have ever seen

As Vil stares at the television analysing his performance, the tranquillity of the moment is abruptly shattered by a sudden burst of light. His heart skips a beat as he turns towards the source, his eyes widening in disbelief. There, standing before him, is the person who had occupied his thoughts and dreams for the past years, with a sweet-looking child next to them.

"Is it really you, darling?" His voice trembles with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. He takes a hesitant step forward, his polished facade momentarily crumbling as he reaches out to confirm the reality of your presence.

Your eyes meet, and in that instant, a whirlwind of emotions surged through his being, threatening to overwhelm his senses. He swallows hard, trying to compose himself. "It's... it's been so long," Vil's voice cracks with raw emotion, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I've missed you every day, every moment."

Vil is the most emotional you’ve ever seen him, even when you had bid each other farewell at the mirror, he had been more composed

but here he’s completely vulnerable and crying tears of joy

once he’s calmed down a bit, he immediately calls his manager to reschedule whatever plans he had because of ‘family emergencies’

since you left, vil has been completely invested in his acting career and has landed a few roles as the main character, though some of them were still villainous

he’s super affectionate and relaxed with you, always instinctively reaching out for you to confirm you’re really there

and he’s super cute with Misaki!! Misaki always goes to him for makeup and styling her hair, but she likes going to you for brushing her hair when it’s tangled

mini drama sessions at home where it’s the three of you playing out scenes from a fairytale

vil is the ‘only the best for my princess’ type of father

he’s very careful with outings so the paparazzi or the media won't just sabotage your family dates, he’s determined to spend quality time with his two darlings

takes you to meet papa schoenheit, who adores you for making vil so happy, and absolutely spoils Misaki with clothes and accessories

you’ll have to be the strict parent to make sure she’s not too spoiled

not to mention uncle rook who absolutely worships the ground she walks on and cannot resist her requests

Vil's gaze flickers to the child standing beside you, her innocent eyes mirroring his own. A rush of emotions washes over him, as he finally comprehends the magnitude of the moment. His voice trembles with tenderness as he kneels down, extending a hand towards her. "Is this... our child?" His voice holds a hint of awe and wonder, his heart swelling with a newfound sense of purpose.

Misaki's eyes widen, taking a tentative step forward to try and comprehend this newfound connection. "Are you like the daddies in the shows that come back to the family?" she asks, her voice tinged with innocence and wonder.

A brief look of confusion flashes by, before a warm smile graces Vil's lips as he reaches out, gently brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Yes, darling," he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and determination. "I am here now, and I promise I'll never leave you. I will be there for you, guide you, and cherish every moment we share, just like the fathers in the shows."

Part 1✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland riddle #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #twisted wonderland deuce #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland azul #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland vil

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astroph1les · 8 months

Text

falling behind [h.c]

summary: feeling like you’re never going to experience the normal dating experience, you turn to your friend, hazel, to teach you how to kiss. friends help each other out like that, right?

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language and content, hickies (r!recieving), heavy making out, causal dominance from hazel, sort of player!hazel, cocky!hazel, josie & isabel being all over each other, hinting that hazel and birttany are bffs, inexperienced! reader, slight insecure! reader, reader is mentioned to have multiple sisters, hazel being so sweet and reassuring to reader.

word count: 2.6K

a/n: based on this request, by @toritea (i hope you enjoy it! xx) i actually had too much fun writing this. need me a hazel :/ also how am i at over 200 followers already?? you guys are insane. but i love you all for it. enjoy! <3

You were really happy for Josie and Isabel. You really were. You knew Josie had had a massive crush on Isabel for years now and they finally got together. But, it was moments like this where they were making out, borderline about to fuck against your and Josie’s shared dorm room door, that made you want to rip your head right out of your head.

“Okay, guys,” you speak up, trying to reach for the handle that was underneath their hips.

There was a moan at some point and you decided that you were going to Brittany and Hazel’s dorm room since clearly yours and Josie’s was going to be occupied. You backed away and marched down to the almost identical door except Hazel and Brittany’s names were scribbled on the dry-erase board.

You knocked on the door with a sigh, the image of Josie and Isabel still fresh in your mind. The door opened to reveal Hazel with squinted eyes. She had on a gray hoodie with a pair of what you think of boxers or shorts that look similarly to boxers.

“Hey, did I wake you?” You glance at her attire.

“Uh, no, I just woke up from a nap,” Hazel furrowed her brows, “is everything okay?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Josie and Isabel—“

“Oh, okay, yeah. Come in,” Hazel moved out of the way to let you into the dorm room.

You glanced around the room, smiling at the obvious difference between Brittany and Hazel’s beds. Brittany had one of those neon wall lights of a sun with baby pink and white sheets. Hazel had basic different shades of gray comforters and sheets along with a few throw pillows.

“I love them but my god, they never stop. I was just trying to stop by to change,” you sigh as you walk over to sit on Hazel’s bed.

Hazel smacked her lips together with a shrug, adjusting her hoodie on her head.

“Well, I mean, that’s what it's like to have a girlfriend. It’s the ‘honeymoon’ phase.” Hazel explained before adding, “kissing and fucking is fun, though.”

Your cheeks burn at her words. Being the only person you know to not have any sexual experience—let alone kiss—made you feel like you were falling behind. Sure, it was only freshman year of college, but it didn’t help the longing of wanting to get this sort of shit over with.

Hazel was the one that you envied the most. Or at least, the girls she was hooking up with. After high school, Hazel became a bit of a heartthrob. Brittany had told you about how she had passed by their room sometimes and would hear almost-porn-like moaning and panting. You would be lying too if you said that you’ve never heard these noises too come from their room.

In simple words, Hazel fucks and fucks good.

“Still, I don’t need to see it happen, Haze,” you emphasized.

“Maybe you need to go and get some then,” Hazel remarks with a cheeky grin, walking over to sit across from you on Brittanys bed.

“Um, no. I can’t do that,” you shake your head and hope that she doesn’t press or ask more questions.

Hazel furrows her brows as she watches the way your body language shifts as soon as the subject of sex comes up.

“Why not? You’re gorgeous. I’m sure someone wants to fuck you.” Hazel states as if you should’ve been aware of this.

It was definitely a bit of a confidence booster that Hazel found you attractive.

“Thanks, Haze but it’s not like people are lining up to be with me unlike some people,” your eyes stare into hers, raising your brows. “I wouldn’t even know what to do anyways.”

Hazel tilts her head and purses her lips together, unclear to what you meant. She meant it when she said you were gorgeous. Even now in your day to day outfits of tees and baby tanks with jean shorts. She’s always thought this way about you but had to push it deep down to keep your friendship intact.

“Wait, have you not…?” Hazel trailed off to see what the limit was of experience that you may or may not have had.

“I’m a virgin and have never even kissed anyone before except for, like, once in 4th grade over a dare,” you spat out, feeling the ever most embarrassed.

The question made you irritated. Why? You couldn’t tell the exact reason but it was definitely a combination of stress and lack of sexual activity.

“Hey, hey,” Hazel stood up and off Brittany's bed to sit next to you on her bed. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you know?”

“No, I know that. It’s just annoying sometimes to not have someone in that romantic way.” You tell her with a forced grin.

Hazel nods in agreement. Silence takes over you two until you get an idea. It was risky and could possibly change everything about your relationship with Hazel if she says yes.

“Haze? Can you,” you sigh and look at her slowly, “can you teach me how to kiss?”

You wince as you prepare for the immediate rejection from Hazel.

“You want me to teach you?” Hazel adjusts her position on her bed so that she has one leg curled on the mattress and the other hanging off.

“Well, yeah, if that’s okay. I know you’ve been with a lot more girls than I have so I assume you know what you’re doing,” you state simply, blushing at the memories of the muffled moaning you’ve heard through the door.

Hazel chuckled at your words, removing her hood from her bed head. You watch her carefully, all of a sudden aware of every move you both made. You took notice of her chains that rested at the bottom of her throat probably from being tossed in her sleep.

“Are you sure? Like, 100%?”

You nod, eyes flickering to her lips. Hazel had done the same and scooted back from you as she was 10 seconds away from kissing you feverishly, but she had to hold back. You had never kissed before, she reminded herself.

“Okay, well, the first thing is comfortability. Are you comfortable sitting like this?” Hazel motioned around you two.

You think about it for a moment before questioning: “Is there a better way to sit when kissing?”

“Some girls like to sit on my lap, some like me to be sort of hovering over them. Even like, laying down and we’re making out is always comfortable too,” Hazel explains, all of a sudden feeling very nervous talking about all of the things she’s done with these girls that weren’t you.

You contemplate for a moment, mentally trying to ignore how Hazel had said ‘some girls.’ It just reminded you that this can only be a ‘friends helping friends’ situation. Laying down might be comfortable but to you, that sounded like a more experienced position. The idea of Hazel hovering over you would cause you to go actually insane.

“Can I be on your lap? I-If that’s okay?” You ask, glancing down to look at Hazel’s lap.

“Yeah, yeah, just— yeah,” she began to adjust herself so that her upper back was up against the headboard with her legs spread out. “C’mere, honey.”

You’re a horny idiot, you scold yourself internally as you inch over to Hazel, your thighs straddling her upper thighs. Her hands rest respectfully on your lower thighs, just above your knees.

This position felt so intimate now that you were here. You could see every speck of blue in her eyes and the slight bags from lack of sleep. You could just stare at Hazel like this and be content.

“You okay?” Her voice is gentle.

“Yeah, just a little nervous,” you admit truthfully.

“I get it, it's okay. Nothing’s wrong with being a little nervous,” she reassures you and the way she was rubbing her thumbs across the bare skin makes your head fuzzy. “Just take a deep breath in and out a few times.”

You do as she asks of you, your previous rapid heartbeat coming to a decrease in speed. Hazel seems to take notice of your chest slowing down.

“There you go. Good. That’s good, honey.”

Hazel praised you, a rush flooding to your brain. You gave her a shy smile as you tried to focus on what the whole point of this was. Kissing.

That’s it. It’s just kissing.

“So, now what?” You hum, fiddling with the end of Hazel’s gray hoodie.

“Let’s do one so I can see how you kiss.” Hazel rose a hand to cup your cheek, watching your breath hitch ever so slightly.

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry about kissing ‘bad’, okay? Go with the flow,” she reassures you once again.

You nod, muttering one final ‘okay’. Hazel leans her face towards yours, slightly brushing her lips against yours. From this soft touch alone, you could tell that you were going to fuck this up. Hazel closed the gap by tugging you by your cheek, locking your lips together.

You attempt to follow her slow rhythm as your hands grip onto the cotton of Hazel’s hoodie. This is going well, you think until Hazel pulls away. You instinctively try to chase her lips, but she chuckles softly at your attempt. Her hot breath brushes past your own slightly parted mouth.

“Getting eager, huh?” She teases, brushing her nose against yours.

“Shut up.” Your cheeks flush at her words.

That same flush spread to your chest and the depths of your stomach. All you wanted to do was jump her bones. Now, you understood why she had girls moaning so loud that there would be complaints from the neighboring peers.

“You did good, though. You really don’t have anything to worry about.” Hazel patted the side of your thigh like it was nothing.

“Really?” You furrow your brows, confused as to how you who had no experience could actually kiss well.

“Mhmm. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, honey. You’re a natural,” she glanced down at your lips with a smile.

“What about, like, making out? Like with tongue?” You were really pushing your luck now. There’s no way she was going to agree to doing more than just basic French kissing.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a little more complicated. There is such a thing as too much tongue. That’s how people get mono. It also just feels fucking gross.” Hazel explains with a grimace.

You copy her disgusted face as one of your sisters had gotten mono before and she couldn’t properly swallow anything for about a week. You remember her constant complaining, saying that she wouldn’t kiss anyone for the next year.

The following month she had gotten a boyfriend so clearly, she was a shit-faced liar.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard,” you reply back with an awkward chuckle.

“That’s a worse-case scenario, though. It’s supposed to feel good like everything else that’s as intimate as this,” Hazel is quick to reassure you, her hands squeezing and rubbing at your thighs.

“Right. Got it. So, how is ‘good making out’ supposed to feel?” You held up your fingers to copy the quote motion. “I’ve heard you’re mind blowing at it so…”

“You really are boosting my ego here, honey,” Hazel shook her head slightly as if she was being bashful about her experience. Her cocky ass smile said otherwise.

“Like it wasn’t already up there,” you quipped back with a pointed look but your lips were curling into a giddy smile.

“Y’know we can’t make out when we talk, right?”

Hazel’s painfully attractive smirk forms on her lips.

Her hands grasp onto your waist, her thumbs digging into your lower ribs. The cold feeling of her silver rings caused you to gasp as her lips were against yours once again.

You hum against her lips, your hands cupping both sides of her face. From what you’ve seen in movies and shows, usually there’d be a hand through someone’s hair. You test it out and run one hand up the back of Hazel’s head, her soft hairs brushing in between your fingers.

Hazel’s tongue swipes past your bottom lip and you try to welcome it into your mouth. It feels… weird at first but when Hazel tugs you in closer with her tight grip, it heightens the pleasure for you. You suck on her tongue for just a moment before letting her take the reins once again.

You feel her pull away and you think she’s going to say that you did something wrong. No, her lips begin to trail down to your jaw. She made sure to leave a hot kiss on your cheek and jaw before latching yourself onto your neck.

You pant softly, a soft whine leaving your lips. Hazel’s tongue peeked out to lick across a sensitive spot on your neck that you didn’t even know about. How the fuck did she figure that out? She rolled the skin in between her lips and sucked softly.

“Haze,” you breathe out as you tilt your neck back.

This pulled Hazel out of her hungry-lust driven state. She didn’t ask if she could do that. You didn’t ask for a hickey. Fuck.

Hazel paused her movements, detaching herself from your neck. The skin glistened slightly with spit, highlighting the deepening blush color that had raised to your skin.

“Oh, fuck. Shit, I’m sorry,” Hazel rushed out as she examined the forming hickey.

“What? What is it?” You furrow your brows in a panic as well.

“This is gonna be a dark hickey later. Fuck, honey,” her thumb rubbed over the raw skin.

You stay silent. You didn’t want to admit that being covered in her hickies was something that you’ve wanted for a while now. Just friends, you reminded yourself. Just friends.

“It’s okay. I liked how it felt.” You suck in a deep breath, trying to calm your rapid heart rate.

Hazel’s alluring blue eyes flicker from the spot on your neck to your flushed face. It took everything in her to hold back the urge to kiss over it as an apology for what she did.

“Still, it’s not what you had asked to do. I should’ve,” Hazel paused to remove her hands from your waist. You already missed the warmth dearly. “I should’ve asked first.”

“Haze, it’s really okay. I felt…” Horny. Just horny. Desperate. Horny for a third time.

“Good?” She answered for you as you still hadn’t said anything.

You hadn’t realized that you had paused in real life instead of just in your head.

“Yeah, yeah, good. I promise,” you tell her with a soft smile.

“Well, it sounded like it was good,” Hazel quipped with a cocky smirk on her face before smacking her clothed shoulder.

“God, I’m regretting this already,” you half-lie.

You regret asking Hazel to be the one to teach you but you don’t regret her kissing you and giving you a hickey.

Oh, god.

How were you going to explain the dark mark on your neck to everyone? You never curled your hair so it’s not like a burn could be an excuse.

You were about to ask Hazel how you were going to cover it up when the door opened. Brittany stood at the door sporting a cropped black tank with a gemmed red heart and a pair of low-rise blue jeans. Her brows raised at the sight of you and Hazel before she pursed her lips to hide her obvious smile that was creeping onto her lips.

“I’ll just come back later,” Brittany gave Hazel a look that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Okay so everyone but Brittany.

taglist: @imjustapearl @beabeebrie @curiousshifter101 @seethesin @matchamilkislover <33

#hazel callahan x reader #bottoms movie #hazel callahan #bottoms 2023 #sapphic #wlw #ruby cruz #i need her #player!hazel is hot as fuck

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ilguna · 1 year

Text

☼ one true love (Peeta Mellark) ☼

summary; to everyone else, you're nothing but a rebound to Peeta. to Peeta, you are his one true love.

warnings; swearing, death mention.

wc; 3k

notes; no katniss slander, but there is gale slander ;)

–

The nerves are eating you from the inside out. One minute you think you’re going to be sick all over the concrete floor, so you’re in the bathroom hanging your head over the toilet. The next minute, you’re back on your feet, pacing back and forth in front of the door. You can’t sit still anymore, it’s not an option.

What are you supposed to say to him? It’s only a matter of time before he lands in District Thirteen with the other captured victors. Will he even want to see you? Is Katniss going to be the first person he asks for? You saw him on the television a few days ago, he was talking about her, worried about her wellbeing.

The last time you saw each other was before the Quarter Quell reaping. It was brief, because he needed to go on stage, and you were late traveling from your neighborhood to get to the Justice Building. All he did was kiss you, and then he was gone.

You think he was expecting to say goodbye, like the Peacekeepers usually allow, but when you tried to go inside, they told you that the rules changed. And before you could think to start running to the train station, they told you that there was no farewell there, either. That was it.

You couldn’t breathe, you were sure that would be the last time you’d ever see him, and it was cut short because you couldn’t leave the house a couple minutes earlier. But you were so, so mad at him for the months leading up to the reaping. It was a nightmare being with him.

His time was consumed with training, he was constantly talking about volunteering over Haymitch if the opportunity presented itself. He wouldn’t listen to a single thing you said. You hardly spent time with him, and when you did, you would’ve been happier by yourself. He became a new person, one you didn’t recognize, one that didn’t seem to like the idea of you half the time.

You almost didn’t want to go to the reaping. You knew what was to come, what was the point of showing up, besides to avoid getting in trouble with the Peacekeepers? And then all he could do was kiss you, because he was so pressed for time. He didn’t say anything to you.

Suddenly, you turned the anger onto yourself, because you couldn’t believe you were so stupid to miss such a vital moment with him.

You tried to make up for it. Even though the week leading up to the Quell was chaotic in District Twelve, as much as you were afraid to leave your house to see the mandatory viewings, you still did. You saw him everyday in the Square, and each time you got your heart broken because it was like it was never an act between him and Katniss.

You thought it was bad enough the first time around, because he didn’t know your feelings yet, and he was putting on this real show for the Capitol, but it’s so much worse, knowing that he feels the same way for you.

When you and Peeta had started talking again after he won the Hunger Games, your parents warned you that it would end up being a mistake. They knew how you felt about him before he was reaped, and how it wouldn’t change before he came back—if he came back. Even if he was kissing Katniss Everdeen in front of Panem.

They were right about your feelings, of course. You and Peeta were close friends for years. You had classes together in school, and you’d hang out in the bakery every day after school. You’d sit there for hours, doing your homework, while also watching him pipe designs onto cakes and cookies for those who could afford to buy it.

You didn’t think he noticed the way you’d watch him throughout the day. The way his eyes would light up when talking about something he liked. Or maybe a new technique he discovered when making designs on cakes. How carefree he looked when doodling on his papers. The amount of times there would be a mini portrait of you in the corner of them.

While your whole day was centered around him, he had other things on his mind, like Katniss. Well, that’s how you felt when he announced his love for her in the interview. And then he came back with her, breaking the rules of the Hunger Games, completely enamoured with her. When you hadn’t gone to visit him in a whole two weeks after, he showed up at your door to see you, to make sure that you were okay. You tried to shrug him off, but he didn’t take that as an answer.

You thought that if you held him at arms-length, that it would be a distance between you two. If you’re not close, then there would be no point in keeping you around. After all, he does have other friends—other people he can surround himself with.

Fortunately for you, it didn’t work. You honestly should’ve known that it wouldn’t, because out of all the friends you’ve had since growing up, Peeta has by far been the most loyal out of them. He’s still here, and he’s seen you go through the motions. That’s why he figured out that he hurt you in some way while he was gone.

He refused to leave you alone, he later told you that you were one of his last friendships he had since he won. Everyone else wasn’t seeing him the same way you did. While you saw him as human, and virtually the same person you had before he left, others saw him as the victim.

You remember being so flustered admitting your feelings to him. The hot feeling in your face, the tears that threatened to take over your eyes. The way your throat clogged, and the words croaked out. You didn’t even want to look him in the eyes, afraid to see his reaction, but it’s like you couldn’t look away. You needed to see the raw reaction in case he lied to you.

Peeta smiled.

It took a lot of explaining from him to get you to see how he was thinking after he was reaped. He needed help from sponsors, which meant that he had to play the Capitol in some way. And while what he said to Caesar in the interview wasn’t completely false, it wasn’t true either. He wasn’t settled on Katniss, because he knew if he won, he had someone better at home; you.

He wasn’t anticipating coming back with her. If he’d known, he would’ve played it differently. Katniss was completely indifferent to him, and he realized that after she looked for him once the announcement was made. As for you, he knew that if you were there with him, you wouldn’t have left his side, not even for a second.

He was happy you felt the same way he did, but he warned you that if you two started seeing each other more seriously, and possibly started dating, a lot of people would be unhappy. And at the end of the day, you could be one of those people. He wanted a relationship as much as you did, but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you in the process.

Since that day, he tried to do everything he could to keep you, while also keeping the peace with the Capitol, even if they didn’t know what was happening between the two of you. There was a lecture from Haymitch—a man that you thought you’d never have to meet in your life—telling you that you’d have to be extremely careful to keep it from the Peacekeepers.

The Victory Tour was rough, considering he did a complete one-eighty with Katniss for the cameras. It got worse when you watched him propose to her in the Capitol. He didn’t tell you that this was planned, and he promised to keep you up to date if he could. You were nauseated for the rest of the week, really afraid that you’d done it to yourself.

You were the first person he came to see when he got back from the tour. From the moment you opened the door, it was a string of apologies, and a tight hug, reassuring you that it's not what he wanted. Him and Katniss were in trouble, and they were trying to do damage control.

You watched all the mandatory viewings of Katniss trying on her dresses, the ones the Capitol liked the most, over the others. That was fine, it was easier to stomach, knowing that Katniss felt like she was playing dress-up for them. What wasn’t okay, was what happened next.

You were sitting with Peeta on the couch the night the Quarter Quell was announced. You two thought it was just another dress preview, and the rest of the night, you two were supposed to hang out. Then Snow said all the existing victors would be going back into the pool.

You remember seeing the color drain from his face, and panic seized his body. You opened your mouth to speak, but he was already excusing himself. He needed to talk to Haymitch, and it was a fairly long walk from your house to Victor’s Village. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, and then he was gone. And you were left sitting in your living room, watching the Capitol react to the same news you’d just heard, wondering if they knew the effect this would cause.

It’s been a downward spiral since that day. You watched him go through that first week in the Capitol again, and it ended with him announcing Katniss’ fake pregnancy. You were inconsolable, watching him survive the cornucopia, just to almost die a few hours later because of a forcefield.

It was hard to swallow, but it was nothing compared to the fact that District Twelve was bombed on the third day. You don’t know how Gale knew where you lived, or why he chose you to save.

You knew of Gale in high school, but didn’t think anything of him. He was just another surviving teenager, trying to get through with his head down and make it out of the reaping alive. You learned more about him when he was presented as Katniss’ cousin to Panem to keep him from being seen as a threat against Peeta. As for you, Peeta was able to claim that you were nothing but a loyal friend.

You and Gale only met in passing.

Even though Gale knew what you actually meant to Peeta, he still left his family out of the hundreds that were saved. They were just across the street from Katniss’ family, and he still let them get killed. While he traveled across the district to tell you that a hovercraft was coming because the district was going to be bombed by the Capitol.

You’re grateful you’re alive, and so is your family, but you will never forgive him for doing something so cruel.

You feel the nausea rising in your stomach again, as you wipe your hands down your grey uniform to rid them of the collecting sweat. You’re sweeping your hair into one hand, really sure that you’re going to throw up this time, when the door to your dormitory opens.

You stop in your steps, turning to see who it is. You asked your parents to stay out for a little bit, because you really needed some time to think to yourself. You were almost put in the same room as Katniss and Finnick, so that you’d be able to receive the news of their arrival at the same time as them. Haymitch didn’t think it was appropriate, that’s why you were casted out, but said you’d be updated as soon as they landed.

Despite the fact that you and Peeta are very much dating, and he’s made it explicitly clear that he and Katniss are nothing but an act, you are seen as less than she is. In fact, the word they like to put on you is ‘rebound’. You’re Peeta’s rebound, because he couldn’t get Katniss.

You’ve tried to be patient with District Thirteen’s command, but they’re running it thin.

Haymitch Abernathy stands in your doorway, a grave look on his face. You don’t think he approves of you and Peeta, even though he tried his best to convince you two that he didn’t care what happened, as long as President Snow didn’t find out.

“Peeta’s here.” He says.

“Oh, finally.” You breathe, letting go of your hair as you start toward the door, “Is he in the hospital?”

“(Y/n), stop.” Haymitch blocks the path. “Peeta’s not in the right state of mind. It’s going to be upsetting to see.”

“That’s fine.” You brush him off, “Can we go?”

“You don’t understand.” He sighs, “He tried to kill Katniss.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, while your brain tries to push through this information. He was just concerned about her not too long ago, and now he’s trying to kill her?

You shake your head, “I want to see him, Haymitch.”

He doesn’t like your persistence, but he leads the way to the hospital, anyway. The two of you move through the hallway, into the elevator, out, and through another series of hallways. You can hear the commotion from down the hallway, the shouting coming from the other side of the hospital doors.

Once you walk through them, you’re met with chaos. You stop for a second at the doors, wondering if it’s like this all the time in here, but when you realize that Haymitch is still moving, you get right back to following. You catch sight of Finnick with a girl, and presumably another victor strapped down with a shaved head, rolling her eyes at the nurse.

The further back you go, the calmer it gets. You can feel the anxiety building in your stomach the moment you step foot into a tense room that holds a few vaguely familiar faces. You know Plutarch Heavensbee, he was a former Gamemaker. You’ve talked to him a few times. And then there’s Beetee Latier, one of the victors that was inside of the arena. And among them are a few other people that you don’t recognize.

No one pays attention to you, the conversation lands on Haymitch as soon as they see him. You stand there for a few minutes, nerves settling slowly while the anger begins to rise.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “I want to see him.”

There are a few stunned faces as eyes land on you. As if you somehow just materialized out of the air, and they didn’t see you when you walked into the room behind Haymitch.

“That might not be a good idea.” A man says, looking over you.

“You think that matters to me?” Your body’s trembling. He’s got to be on the other side of the door, the one that they’re blocking. You’re so close to him.

“Who are you?” He asks.

“If you all stopped smothering me, then you’d know that I’m his girlfriend.” You snap, “Not Katniss, me.”

Plutarch tilts his head, “Boggs has nothing to do with your current predicament, (Y/n). I’m going to give you access to see him, but you’ll return immediately if you see him getting violent, do you understand?”

You ignore his comment, deciding to keep the peace. “Yes.”

Several people move at once. While Beetee wheels himself across the room to press a button on the wall, which makes the wall to your left turn into a window, allowing you to see a preview of Peeta’s state. Boggs walks over to the door that you were looking at, pushing a key into the lock and turning it.

You don’t move from where you stand, lips parted as you let out a gasp at the sight of Peeta, strapped to a bed to keep from hurting himself and others. He’s lost all the muscle that took months for him to build up before going into the arena. He’s covered in black and blue bruises, there’s cuts across his skin.

You can feel the tears build in your eyes.

Peeta’s head lolls to the side at the sound of the key in the lock. He can’t even keep his eyes open.

“We gave him a sedative after he went after Katniss.” Haymitch explains, “He’s coming off of it.”

You start moving to the door. Boggs tries to stop you, maybe to give you some bullshit rules to follow while you’re inside, but you’ve already shoved him aside and forced yourself through the door before he can even say your name.

Peeta’s eyes widen at the noise you cause coming through the door, jerking aggressively to see exactly who it is that’s entering the room. It takes him a second of looking you over, up and down, to realize it’s you. He relaxes into the bed, no longer pulling against the restraints, face smoothing over.

“(Y/n)...” He trails.

You can feel your teeth chattering, tears overflowing your eyes, “Peeta.”

“You’re here.” He breathes, “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” You sob, trying to wipe the tears away. You grab his hand, squeezing tightly, feeling another round of tears hit you when he holds on, refusing to let go.

You lean over the railing, your other hand outstretched to touch his face, where the bruises lie on his sunken cheeks. The back of your fingers brush against his skin. He takes in a breath, eyes fluttering shut while he leans into your touch.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, until he slowly opens his eyes, “I missed you.”

“I’m never leaving you again.” You tell him, “I promise.”

#ilguna #peeta mellark #peeta mellark imagine #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark oneshot #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta x reader #peeta imagine #peeta fanfic #peeta oneshot #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark x yn #peeta mellark x y/n #thg #the hunger games #fluff

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mermaid-trash · 1 year

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Lingerie Shopping with Genshin Men

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Ayato (separate) x reader

Warnings: not explicit but suggestive asf, 18+ only, afab!reader implied

Diluc feels himself blushing the moment you say you want to look in that store, and the flaming pink on his cheeks only gets deeper with every passing second you spend in there. He averts his gaze when you hold up garments and gives his opinions in as few words as possible, but then you take him to the fitting room to start trying on sets. His whole face is flushed as red as his hair by now, but he cannot tear his eyes away from you for a single second as you model lingerie sets of sheer fabrics and lace in a whole rainbow of colours, each more well-crafted and flattering on your body than the last. He doesn't say much, but the adoration behind those deep ruby eyes tells you exactly how much he likes seeing these sets on you. When you finally try on a crimson red satin set, adorned with lace and a delicate bow, Diluc has finally had enough - get dressed, you're buying all of the sets you've tried on so that he can admire them properly from the comfort of your shared bedroom instead.

Kaeya is a menace but also the best person to take shopping for any kind of clothes; he picks out garments that you would honestly never choose for yourself, but they inevitably end up looking incredible when he convinces you to try them on. All the while, his hungry gaze rakes over your body, admiring the lingerie he picked out for you laying so invitingly against your skin, the sheer pale blue fabric caressing your curves and drawing Kaeya's attention straight to all of his favourite parts of your body. Of course, he has to tell you how stunning the set is on you, cold fingertips tracing slowly down your exposed arms as pretty words drip from his tongue so effortlessly, expressing how bewitching you are in such pretty lingerie, how much he wants to peel the fabric away from your body and delve into what lies hidden beneath…in the end you leave the store with the new lingerie set, a fierce blush on your face, and a very smug Kaeya by your side.

Childe's entire face lights up with joy when you suggest going into the store, and he wastes no time pulling you inside. Just a few short moments later, every attendee in the store is rushing around, ushering the other customers out of the store with murmured apologies and hurriedly preparing the changing rooms so that you and the Harbinger can have some privacy, as per his request. Meanwhile, he's darting manically around the store, picking out lingerie that he thinks would look good on you without even a glance at the price tag. When he finally pushes his selections into your arms and drags you to the changing rooms, you simply let him, too caught up in the elated grin he gives you to protest. With every set that you model for him, his compliments get bigger, more embarrassing, and he gets visibly more impatient. His fists clench atop his thighs, desperate to cling onto your body and never let go, and a pout sits on his lips every time you insist on trying another set. He'll buy you the whole store if you want, but first, come closer and let him appreciate the gifts he's getting for you.

Ayato barely reacts when you ask if you can visit this store, offering only his signature polite smile. He hangs around by your side as you pick out sets you like but offers no help, contributing little more than a hum in response to each garment that you show him. His eyes twinkle as you pull him towards the dressing rooms, determined to get some feedback from him somehow - and who knows, perhaps that was his intention? It doesn't matter now, though, as he settles into a chair and waits for you to emerge from behind the screen, wearing a beautiful set in his clan's trademark colours, white and blue. The fine silk garments cling to your form enticingly, and Ayato thinks with a breathy chuckle that they were made to be worn by you and you alone. He beckons you closer wordlessly with just a gesture of his fingers, and you obey, stepping towards him and watching his movements with eyes that shine with anticipation. His hands hover over your body, worshipful in their hesitation to touch, and he decides then that you look best like this, in his colours and desperate for his touch.

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #ayato x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact hcs #genshin hcs #genshin headcanons #genshin x you #genshin x reader

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cooki3face · 4 months

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what you need to hear right now: channeled from spirit

message: I love this type of art, I have tons of it on my Pinterest but anyway that's sort of beside the point, I feel called to do a message but I feel very low on energy within as of late. I want to try and keep this one short, sweet, and clear. As you know, especially if you're a light worker or intuitive, shifts within the collective, within energy however it comes are always felt first by us. If there is a symptom of change, I'm feeling it 10x over so that I can prepare to relay that information to the collective because I would honestly consider myself to be a vessel. As I cope with my life and my own human experience I am also in the process of collecting important information so that I can guide the collective effectively and let me tell you, I've been through some SHIT with the opening force of 2024. Anyways, enjoy the reading and I pray that you find what you're looking for and what you need with me in my space today.

"we've been watching you juggle both the physical and the spiritual within your hands for the past couple weeks, you may feel as though your worlds are colliding your the sky and the ocean has folded over with you in the center. There comes a time in one's life when the elements that make up their world must come into alignment and fuse with one another. You were told to learn what it meant to be a balanced individual, and so as you completed and closed off karmic lessons and overcame blockages you became closer and closer to equilibrium and these moments now are crucial as what you had needed all long is on its way to be delivered to you. You've been learning what it means to manage your time, manage your energy, and spread yourself where needed to obtain the results you desire. You have one foot in the spiritual realm and one foot in the physical world. Your development as of now is so incredibly important and we're supporting you in your journey forward.

Things may appear to be slow, backed up, or difficult at this time but movement is coming in quickly and to be expected soon. You've planted your seeds to receive and as you deserve, you shall. within the next two weeks for some of you and even a couple of days for a select few of you, things will begin to move forward or pick up momentum. Set your intentions straight and make sure that they are unwavering. there is success on the horizon, whatever is difficult or isn't working out for you that will change. You've grown so much, and your only job at this time is to nurture yourself and your manifestations, show yourself grace, ask for healing, ask for closure, and ask for the necessary tools to care for yourself as one should. And become clear and aligned with whatever you are manifesting, and put yourself in the position to receive by doing the work on your end and meeting us in the middle with your will and your gratitude. If there's a will there's a way even if you don't have everything in the world to offer in exchange. Come to terms with your power and the part you play in your world.

A select few of you are royalty within the spiritual realm you are kin of spirits who are highly respected and praised in the beyond and that is why the pile you chose depicts the divinity of a matriarch holding her child. Look for gold jewelry and gold trinkets and items if you choose to go out shopping or collecting. You feel called to build something or may have an idea, honor your ideas, and put actions behind what you desire to reap. Those of you who know that you are divinely protected are being heavily watched over and shielded, there could potentially be gossip by those of whom you've left behind or parted from but their tongues will be stilled when they speak of you they summon your spiritual court ( your ancestors, your spirit guides, guardian angels and all deities who call out to you and respect you.) their karma is sharp. Pay no mind to any negative energy sent to you by others. They talk only because they want to be paid great attention to but the audience lies in front of you and the universe's love and support is more than evident on your side.

You are about to succeed heavily, many things will be given to you, prosperity and congratulations are in order, the people will see. you are in a position to receive well in your finances, so well you will be able to give to others or keep your abundance in full cycle forward and back to you. We once told you that you would be compensated greatly for your hardship and the spiritual council has spoken and reached a solid verdict on your reward and the size and volume of the gifts you're about to receive. Do nothing but nurture thyself and expand from this point forward. be easy with secureness in your good fortune, do not let your fear or your anxiety eclipse you there is no purpose for any of it."

II.

"You asked to be free of the things that threaten to hold you hostage and one of the biggest of those things happens to be you. It's time for change and it's time for growth. As you step into the new year you have no choice but to be reset now after years and months and weeks of being broken. You need to be able to heal properly. It's time to come clean and be honest. There are many things within your life that have made lasting impressions on who you chose to be or what you chose to do for your survival even at the expense of others, even those you held dear to you. The process of living an honest life is not an easy one. It is easier to be deceptive, to use your pain as a weapon, or to do what you need to do to survive even if it means stepping on others in the process or not meeting the needs of those you've awoken to you. It is hard work to be in alignment, it is hard work to always take accountability, it is hard work to look at your shadow and truly acknowledge it, you know more than anyone."

interception: I'm getting the energy of the film "warrior" with tom hardy in where he plays a character named tommy who ends up having to fight his brother for a large reward in a wrestling championship. He was a marine in the military and has childhood trauma that shapes the way he presents himself to others and navigates in his interpersonal relationships and of course what his goals and purpose are in the film, I'm not going to spoil it for you but if this is your pile, I recommend you watch it. it's on Netflix. it also really does a good job of highlighting an aspect of ourselves that we carry in our spirits to marry ourselves to our trauma or particular factors of it to hide from troubling or conflicting emotions or circumstances. things that are "inherently" bad or negative in theory but can look "desirable" or "acceptable" to us because our motivation for accepting it happens to be a heavily skewed one.

" It's time you finally free yourself from your karma, from your vices, from your shadow, and from aspects of yourself or your life that threaten to keep you stuck or stagnant. You can't take with you all of these things into the new year, into the new world, into your new life. The devil is in the details and he has done nothing but hold onto your ankle this entire time. It is your responsibility to make the changes that you've been asking for or craving. You may fear loss or the reality of the damage you've caused, the opportunities you've put yourself in the position to lose. You will sit with yourself, you will look at yourself in the mirror or you will suffer and continue to do so under the hand of your own decisions. What you are owed in compensation for a hard life cannot be received if you cannot put yourself in the position to receive them. There's a need in life for personal given grace as well as accountability for the part we play in events and circumstances that take place in our lives, take time to self reflect, forgive yourself, show yourself grace and in turn find the courage to communicate with those you've wrong and/or begin your journey forwards.

In our lives, the consequence we bare the burden of however heavy the weight is never the full and eternal end there is always something after. You've proven yourself to be resilient, to be a force. Use your strengths and allow them to will you forward into the next chapter of your life. Someone significant in your past could've heavily admired you or seen in you things you could not see in yourself as they were able to sense higher beings in others however troubled their karma was. The love they had for you is the love you are about to receive from yourself. The things they saw in you that you could not see you are preparing to embody in full. Ace of pentacles upright for you here signifying abundance coming to you when you are able to open yourself up to receive it all. remain committed to your cause."

III.

"You're seeking out personal closure or looking for solutions to an issue that you don't have on end. Don't make the mistake of running from completion or leaving doors ajar because it is difficult to close them shut you know what you need to do. You need to make the proper investments for your life, you need to work for your improvement or to receive the life you have felt you were entitled to all along but the mistake you've made along the way all this time is attempting to take short cuts and be strategic, deceptive or ingenuine in your method to try and deceive. You are used to putting on a mask or trying on costumes to appeal what others desire from you so you can receive the result you prefer from them, their approval, their support, their validation. Your biggest enemy is the closet full of masks you've accumulated they work against you, they push people away, they scare people of value, and they mislead as you've asked them to. Your life and it's events however unfortunate or difficult have existed to serve you a purpose and put you on your righteous path forward in alignment with your highest self and the life they live but instead you've sharpened it and allowed it to be used as a weapon against others and against yourself.

put your strengths and your adaptability where it's needed and not into being a sheep in wolves clothing or traveling through the night in such a way in which you won't be seen. Abundance will come for you and doors will open up for you where you set your intention and where you are unwaveringly honest and true. Reflect on your choices, your habits, and your behaviors in order to decide what needs to be changed and what needs to be improved and do it honestly this time and set the intention to change it not make another mask of it and store it away for another time. It is not your place to control the way everyone looks at you and how you are perceived or if they are willing to give to you or not. You control or manipulate what does not belong to you from places of fear you store deep within you and it is time to heal and ready yourself to move forward and leave a karmic version of yourself behind. Pack up the things you need to bring with you and be rid of the rest. Do not be resistant to change you must move."

#self love #self care #self improvement #self discovery #dream girl #self expression #healingjourney #self healing #manifestation #divine feminine #divine masculine #pick a card #tarot readers of tumblr #channeled messages #channeled message from spirit #what you need to hear right now #pac #pick a pile #tarot lessons

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katsukiizmoon · 1 year

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╰┈➤ ꒰🍓♥️🌶 ┊”henny n’ coke, baby” + BKG ꒱

『♡』 18+ , healthy relationship, alcohol consumption, clubbing, grinding, twerking, friendly fun, making out w Mina, flirting, squirting, cum licking, cock sucking if u squint, finger sucking, light hair pulling, light choking, spitting in mouth, cum kisses, “good girl”, exhibitionism / voyeurism (if you squint), f!reader x katsuki bakugou

『♡』 was thinking about when my friend and I took turns spitting alcohol in one another’s mouth then kissed. Anyways this is a horny mess. Warning you now. IM a horny mess, fuck.

The club music is loud, you can hardly hear one another. It vibrates the floor and the tequila in your veins has you excited.

You start off with Kirishima, who whoops and hollers and catches your hips while you grind. You roll your hips in a circle, too tiny skirt coming up a little and flashing panties. Sweat beads on the back of your neck and you flip your hair to the side. Ignoring your massive hoop earrings getting stuck in your hair, you look back over your shoulder with a grin.

His hands are thick and large, where they lightly rest over the curve of your hips. He avoids touching too much. You thank him for that, but wish he’d be a little rougher.

Mina jumps in front of you and starts throwing it in a circle. Her ass presses into you and she bounces. Skimpy shorts show off pink ass cheeks and fishnets. She giggles loud enough you can hear it over the music. It’s hot, she’s hot, he’s hot. But you know what’s hotter? Katsuki.

And then you’re thirsty, horny, and on a mission. Everything seems amazing, the world feels like this is what life is about. One of those moments that makes you feel higher on life than just about anything else.

Mina takes over and Eijirou takes it upon himself to pull your skirt down enough to cover more of your ass. He gives a light tap to the fat there and gets close to your face, giving you a toothy smile.

He says something over the music and you don’t know what anything was. Except “good luck”.

Your beautiful, tall and strong boyfriend stands off to the side with Kaminari. They chat idly and you make your way to him, weaving through the crowds of people. Thank fuck you wore flat shoes and not heels today.

When you arrive he’s giving you a quick kiss, asking if you had fun, and you nod feverishly. Wordlessly you point to the drink in his hand and take a sip.

“Yuck! Wha’s this?” You whine, confused. Your features scrunch as if you’ve sucked on a lemon.

“Henny n’ coke baby.” Katsuki laughs and Kaminari raises his matching drink.

Katsuki looks edible- all tanned muscle and winks. You don’t blame all the women that have come up and attempted to dance with him. Comfortable black slacks and half unbuttoned, see through, Lacey top. You picked this for him, knew you wanted to see his body whenever you could. And the chain around his neck shines a little brighter against the club lights.

The song changes, less EDM and more so rap. You squeal, taking another sip of his drink and handing the rest to Kaminari.

Katsuki cocks a brow and Kaminari let’s out a laugh, knowing what’s coming. You grab at his wrist and leave a wet kiss to his lips. Throwing a wink to him, you stick your tongue out.

You push him toward an open chair, one of the few sitting in a corner and he falls back with a ‘oomph. He looks at you with wild, cherry eyes and Kaminari watches from the distance with a grin.

Katsuki’s on cloud nine, alcohol making him braver than he’s ever been and ridding him of his nerves. His cock stirs in his pants at the sight of you.

You plop your ass onto his crotch and grind, bouncing your hips up and down in rhythm. Something comes over you and you bounce on his lap like you’re riding his cock, making a kissy face toward Denki.

Katsuki throws his head back and grips on the fat of your hips, watching your mini skirt ride up and put your thong back on display. You turn to face him, rubbing his chest with your hands and rolling your body. Your knees are situated on either side of him, and you bounce your tits.

He wills himself not to fuck you in the club. Begs himself to show restraint, despite seeing the wet spot on your panties.

Your tongue slides over the seam of your lips, proving yourself back so that the back of your knees hangs over the chair. He watches you, steadying your excited movements with firm hands.

His cock presses into your ass and his eyes meet yours. Cherry eyes consume you, making you wild, and you lean back and flip off the chair.

First he panics, but when he sees your head pop back up and you smile, he laughs a little. He stands at that, bending you over and letting you twerk and grind against his cock in front of everyone. He nods to Denki, who heads over and hands him his drink swiftly.

The blond hunk you’ve got your ass pressed to takes a sip and gyrates his hips into yours. You snap back up and turn, shoving your tongue in his mouth. Your sparkly gloss smears onto the corners of his mouth and he licks into you.

When you pull back for breath, he uses a thumb to wipe some of it off your face and gives you a wink. Denki still stares, gobsmacked, cock growing hard in his pants at the sight before him.

Eijirou and Mina make their way over with another set of drinks and you take a nice, long swig. The pink haired girl grins and pulls you in for a kiss, earning a low whistle from Eijirou and a couple swears from the two blondes.

She tastes sweet, like vodka and orange juice, and her lips are plush. You make note to run off to the bathroom for a makeup touch up later. But that thought is shoved down when her hands reach around to snake up your skirt. She grips at the flesh there and leaves a firm smack. Her tongue is long and it explores, sending shivers down your spine and making your clit pulsate in your panties. Your hips kick and she grins into your mouth, pulling back with a string of spit. A choked noise leaves one of the men in the group.

“Can he spit my drink in my mouth?” She whispers, inches from your lips.

You nod, pulling away and sending him a wink. She practically bounces toward him and gets in front of him, back turned. The music vibrates your bones and soothes the ache in your tummy. Katsuki hands his drink to Eijirou and grabs hers out of her hand.

Eijirou groans out a “me next” and Denki a “me third “.

She does a little twerk on him and he grabs her by the throat. You watch as your boyfriend uses a large, rough hand to position her just right. Her mouth hangs open and she closes her pretty eyes. He brings her drink to his swollen lips, sucking through the straw.

Then he swishes it in his mouth and your pussy throbs at what he does next. He’s spitting it in her mouth, not letting her come up to breathe properly until she swallows. And god you have got to be next on the list.

Her eyes roll back and she licks her lips. You’re on your way over to Katsuki, excited, tipsy, and much too in love with that idea. God bless Mina, the kinky bitch.

The other two take their turns and it shows what they’re like in bed, too. Denki is sweet about it, takes his time, sends her off with a wink and a light tap to the jaw with his hand. And Kirishima? Fuck. He has Denki give him the drink, holding it up. His other arm holds her close to his chest and he hovers his mouth right over Hers and spits. Before she can protest, his thumb is in her mouth and he’s telling her to suck.

People whistle and holler, a group of girls make a moaning sound and one of them yells a “god when will that be me” over the music.

And you’re all sucking down glasses of water and pouring an electrolyte mix in to avoid hangover next. Only to go grab another drink, something that’ll leave you all just a little hornier and on edge.

Katsuki and you find yourselves desperately yanking clothes off at the end of the night. The Uber pulls off and you make sure Mina, Denki, and Eijirou got to their shared destination safe. And then something comes over Katsuki that you’ve never seen before.

It isn’t jealousy, not by a long shot. His cock is leaking precum when you pull it out and he’s gasping, pushing his tongue further into your mouth.

You quickly make it to the bed, still in your shirt and thong, and him in just the goddamned button up. And he’s got you bent over, pressed into the mattress, thong pulled to the side. and fucking you so hard you’re high.

“Yeah? You liked them watching you rub on my cock huh?” He gasps, face numb. A pink tongue licks over puffy lips and he leans forward to anchor his hand in your hair. It stings but he isn’t pulling, just gripping hard enough for you to know he’s got you.

His cock is so thick, filling you to the brim and then some, and you whine out agreements. Drool leaks from the corner of your mouth and he brings his head closer to yours. His hips stop moving and you whimper, pushing yourself back on him desperately.

“You wanted to suck Eijirou, didn’t you baby?” Katsuki rasps, licking and sucking below your ear.

Your pussy squeezes and it gives him his answer. He drops his hand in your hair, bringing one around and under your panties to rub circles on your clit. The other, he brings up to spit on the tips of his middle and forefinger before he shoves them in your mouth. You keen, squeezing harder and sucking on his fingers.

“Look at this, such a good, good girl for me. Come on pretty, tell me what you want.” He mutters, willing himself to stay still. His fingers are removed from your mouth and you frantically start begging for him to move.

But he doesn’t, he continues rubbing lazy circles and his hand wraps around your throat. He squeezes lightly, just enough to make you dizzy and float. And then he stops, and does it again, and then he just holds it there. Let’s you know that he could if he wanted to.

“What do you say?” He demands, more than asks, and his lips tingle.

His throat is dry, tongue heavy, watching you try to fuck yourself on his cock. But you can’t, it won’t work the same without him doing it. And he knows that.

“Fuck- oh god fuck- please, please, please!”

Your fingers dig into the sheets and spit covers his hand. He removes his fingers from your pussy, where they originally rubbed, and he sucks the taste of you off of them and moan. He throws his head back and slams into you.

You shake, spongey spot being bullied by the head of his cock. Your thong is ruined, no double stretched out. Pussy juice slicks down your thighs and froths at the base of his cock. He pulls his hand off your throat, sitting back on his knees, where he spits where his cock meets your pussy. It’s dirty, and he watches you clench around him, sucking him in.

Your pussy squelches, spewing clear juice all over the bed and you praise him like he’s fucking god. Begging him not to stop, to stop, to keep going, harder. Faster. And then he rubs your clit back and forth, up and down, making the squirt spray everywhere.

Something in you snaps and your body goes taut and then limp, your eyes rolling back as you just lay there and take it. And he pulls out, flipping you over and crawling forward.

You watch in awe as your boyfriend, with a face burning peachy and coral tones, fucks into his fist over your face. You open your mouth and he sinks his cock in, just a little, and pulls out again. You reach a hand up, wrapping around the base. There you move, licking at the head of his cock to taste yourself and the precum off of it.

He cums a minute later, all over your pretty lips, where he promptly licks at. He suckles on your bottom lip and spits some of his cum back into your mouth. You greedily accept, swallowing it down with a giggle.

It takes a few moments for you both to collect yourself. And then you’re grabbing the bottle of water beside the bed and taking turns chugging. The Gatorade is next, before you head off to the bathroom. He licks his thumb and wipes some of the cum off of your face, sucking it off of his finger.

Then, you’re brushing your teeth and butt ass naked, showering sloppily. The clock on your nightstand reads 5:08 am and you sigh into his chest when you finally lay down for sleep. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Eijirou and Mina are going to love hearing these stories tomorrow.

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p4p1l0nn · 5 months

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lover boy.

pairing: mark x fem!reader

content warning: 18+, slight choking, slight clit play, perv!mark

a/n: just spicing things up a bit ;)

it's not uncommon to find you strolling around the house without a bra. one might say it's your signature at-home fashion statement. no underwire, no problem — just the laid back charm of embracing the freedom within your own four walls.

today is no exception. no fuss, no worries. you continue being authentically you, leisurely walking through the shared space in your braless glory. the sunlight gently filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your carefree silhouette.

unfinished chores turn into a kind of impromptu dance, a relaxed ballet as you effortlessly float from room to room. mark, usually used to your chilled-out vibe, starts picking up on the subtleties of your unbridled ease. the way your laughter rings out freely while folding laundry and those random spins in the kitchen while whipping up something tasty.

mark, being mark, can't help but sneak a few glances. there's a subtle change in his demeanor, like a light bulb flicking on in his brain. he's starting to see the beauty in your straightforward comfort. you're not even trying, but in his eyes, you're creating a mosaic of everyday moments that radiate a surprising charm.

in the kitchen, you wield utensils like a culinary wizard, the smell of your cooking wafting through the air. the familiar clatter of pans becomes a rhythm that mark finds himself vibing to, caught up in the symphony of domesticity.

you reach for spices on a high shelf, and mark can't help but appreciate the natural flow of your movements. in his head, he's mumbling, “damn, who knew grabbing spices could look so . . .” he shakes off the thought, not wanting to sound too much like a pervert.

mark, while watching you, says with a chuckle, “you've got this whole domestic goddess thing down, huh?”

you grin, “well, someone's gotta keep this place from turning into chaos.”

and there it is. your simple response does something to him. maybe it's the soft sigh escaping your lips, a sigh of satisfaction from all the hard work you put into cooking. he can't quite put his finger on it, but he's sure there's just something about you looking so small in his shirt. the right side slips off your shoulder, exposing your collarbones.

mark can't help but let his mind wander into more perverted territories. “well, isn't this a delicious sight? i'm not just talking about the food,” he mumbles, a sly grin playing on his lips.

you glance over at him, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. “what's that look for?”

mark, with a smirk, replies, “just admiring the view. you, in my shirt, cooking up a storm. it's like a feast for the senses.”

you roll your eyes playfully, “feast for the senses? mark, you're being ridiculous.”

mark chuckles, “ridiculously accurate, you mean.”

as you continue with your culinary magic, mark keeps his thoughts going. “i must say, this kitchen has never looked so appealing. or maybe it's just you. hard to tell.”

you blush, trying to play it cool, “stop talking nonsense, mark.”

mark grins, “nonsense? i call it appreciating art when i see it.”

“you're getting all shy now?” mark smirks, strolling into the kitchen when you don't immediately respond. up close, he sees you wearing a tiny short underneath that oversized cloth of his. he shifts slightly to the side, aiming for a better look at your face.

as he takes in the sight, he notices beads of sweat forming on your forehead, some hair sticking to your face. but to mark, you look hot. really hot. he licks his lips involuntarily.

you, on the other hand, glance at him with a mixture of shyness and amusement. “mark, can you not right now? i'm trying to cook here.”

mark grins, unabashed. “is it just me, or is it getting hotter in here?”

you shake your head, laughing off his perverted remarks. “stop exaggerating. it's just the kitchen, mark.”

mark leans against the counter, still eyeing you appreciatively. “well, the kitchen's never been this . . . steamy before.”

you playfully toss a piece of lettuce at him. “quit it, or you won't get any of this deliciousness.”

mark catches the lettuce mid-air, winking at you. “i can always settle for a different kind of feast, you know.”

rolling your eyes at mark's lingering gaze, you dismiss his comments and focus on the simmering pots on the stove. the aroma of the food intensifies, signaling that your cooking creation is nearing completion. you decide it's time to enlist mark's help in setting the table.

“mark, can you set the table, please? the food's almost ready,” you request, gesturing toward the dining area.

mark, being the pervert he is, can't resist turning the innocent request into something more. “gosh, i love it when you beg,” he says with a sly grin, his gaze locking onto yours as if daring you to react.

you shoot him a playful glare, not entirely surprised by his antics. “i'm not begging.”

but mark, persistent in his teasing, takes a moment to look at your face before slowly saying, “beg again, baby.”

you feel a sudden rush of shyness, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in the conversation. “mark, seriously? just set the table,” you mumble, trying to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks.

“but i can't move, baby,” mark said, his voice carrying a deep groan. surprised by his boldness, you turn to look at him, only to find him palming himself and squeezing his bulge while letting out a content sigh.

it stirs your mind a bit, but you decide to play it cool and pay no attention to his provocative display. closing the stove, you tiptoe to retrieve the plates from the cabinet. unbeknownst to you, mark takes a discreet peek from below, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin as your shirt rides up.

“seriously?” you call out to his actions.

he smirks, acting innocent. “what? just admiring the view from down here.”

mark quickly discards his hand, offering to take the plates, citing your difficulty in reaching them. you appreciate his seemingly helpful gesture, and he sports a sheepish grin.

“sorry about that earlier,” he says casually as he reaches for the plates.

you nod, still focused on other preparations. “just get the plates, please.”

with a sly grin, he seizes the opportunity to grind his hard dick against you as he retrieves the plates. your gasp reveals your surprise, and mark, the mischievous charmer, continues his playful tease.

“oops, my bad again,” he says, feigning innocence.

you catch onto his mischievous intentions, deciding to play the game too. before he can even grab the plates, you grind your ass directly into his bulge, earning a deep, low groan from mark. in response, he tightly grips your hips.

“careful there, princess.” mark says in a seductive tone, his voice laced in desire.

“you wanted this, so i'm giving it to you,” you reply, maintaining a playful tone. mark stays quiet, leaning in with a dangerous proximity. his lips hover dangerously close to your ear, and he nibbles.

mark smirks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “giving it to me, huh? careful what you wish for, princess.”

you roll your eyes, challenging him, “oh, i can handle it, mark. can you?”

mark, undeterred, whispers, “i guess we're about to find out.”

without a warning, he slipped his hand into your shorts, his touch sending an electric thrill through your body. a gasp escapes your lips, caught off guard by the sudden bold move.

his cheek presses to yours as he said, “now, let's see how far you're willing to go.”

the proximity intensifies the already charged atmosphere, and you can feel the heat radiating between your bodies.

in response, you turn your head slightly, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. the taste of neediness lingers as your tongues dance in a rhythmic exploration. mark's hand, still nestled in your shorts, becomes more daring, tracing patterns that send shivers down your spine.

his fingers ventured further, reaching past your panties. he forced his way to your slit. caressing you with no shame on his face. “ah, baby, wet already?”

you gasped. unable to control your tongue. stomach filled with fireworks as mark's delicate fingers does its wonders.

“just for you,” you reply with a smile. mark, unable to resist, turns you around, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. the intensity builds, each touch sending electric pulses through your bodies.

both of you sigh into the kiss, caught up in the intoxicating moment. mark trails down to your neck, leaving a few marks. as you catch your breath, mark compliments you with a whisper, “that's my good girl.”

you wrap your arms around mark's shoulders, bringing him closer as the heated make-out session continues. mark, caught up in the intensity of the moment, lifts up your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin, squeezing it gently.

slowly, his hands making their way down until he grabs a handful of your ass. you gasp into his lips, and mark takes it as a sign to deepen the kiss. he slips his tongue into the dance of passion, as every touch and movement adds to the fiery exchange between you two.

after the passionate makeout, you and mark catch your breath, leaning on each other's foreheads. mark gazes at you lovingly, his eyes tracing the contours of your face — your eyes, nose, and lips. eager to feel closer, he guides your hand to the nape of his neck, and you comply, wrapping your hand around it.

your touch elicits a satisfied sigh from mark as he briefly closes his eyes, savoring the feeling. feeling emboldened, your hand trails down slowly, gliding from his throat, to his chest, then to his abdomen, and grasp his confined bulge, undoubtedly swollen by now and yearning to be set free.

soft moan escapes from mark's lips, “let's move this to the bedroom, so i can feast on you until i'm satisfied.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct hard hours #mark lee smut #nct mark smut #nct 127 smut #nct hard thoughts #mark lee hard thoughts #mark lee hard hours #mark lee x reader #mark lee x y/n

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punching-pentagrams · 3 months

Text

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 9

I'm sorry for being so evil... Just kidding, here is a little more pain before it gets better 😘

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 3.9k CW: Slowburn, Angst, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, depression, anxiety, insecurity, alcohol/intoxication, fuckboi flirting

You get to the hotel and check in, it wasn't crazy fancy or anything, but it was nice, quieter, didn't reek of sex and drugs. You got up to the hotel room and, maybe because you were somewhere that didn't remind you of all of the pain from the night before, you were able to flop on the bed and fall asleep. You slept without any dreams, not a healing sleep per-se, but you had caught up on the sleep you had lost from the night before.

You look at your phone, damn, you basically slept your first day of vacation away. Oh well, vacations don't need to be productive. You stare up and the ceiling, your mind wandering from what you should do, back to Lucifer. You wonder how his day was, he probably knew his next few appointments were canceled at this point, would he be mad or disappointed? Would he remember what happened last night?

You shake your head and growl at yourself, tugging at your own hair in frustration, 'Why do I fucking care so much?!' You got up and paced the room. You ran your hands up your face and through your hair as you walked over to the window, and pressed your forehead to the glass looking out at your view for the next few days. You saw a few restaurants, bars, and stores that littered the main drag, until the name of one grabbed your attention, and made you chuckle.

"Rock Bottom, huh? Feels appropriate for tonight," you say out loud to yourself as you change into more appropriate "out in public" clothes. You were feeling like a loser, but at least you didn't want to look like one. You grabbed your purse, strapped on some heels, and hopped across the street to the bar that felt it aligned with how you felt about life at the moment.

The bar was a dive, but it was not bad. There was a chill downstairs and a spiral staircase off to one side that twisted up to another floor with some flashing colored lights and some guys singing some sad and off-pitch karaoke. Yup, this was the vibe for the night. Luckily, this bar did not seem super crowded and you were able to find a seat with ample space over near the side of the bar to set yourself at.

The bartender saw you and nodded in your direction while they were finishing a couple of drinks. "Be right with you in just a moment, sweetheart," the woman said while juggling her bottles and shakers.

"No problem," you said with a tired smile. You watched the woman flip and spin the bottles as the customers in front of her watched with excitement. You loved watching bartenders who could do cool tricks, it was not a requirement for their job of course, but you were sure it got them more tips and it always made you hope that they enjoyed what they did. Or maybe they were just trying to give themself some amount of joy in their hellhole of a job working with drunk people and their bullshit.

Eventually she passed off the drinks to the customers, tossed her towel over her shoulder, and headed over to you.

"Thanks for waiting, welcome to Rock Bottom, what can I get ya?" the woman asked you. She gave off a "cool biker mom" kinda vibe, lots of tattoos and piercings all over her, a biker looking vest and short cropped slicked back black hair with one big pink streak jutting back from her right temple, all being held back by a red bandana.

"Just a long island iced tea, please," you said softly.

"Ah, one of those nights huh?" She said cocking an eyebrow, "No problem, coming right up."

You lean more on the bar, "What do you mean by that?" you say with a sly smile and a squint.

The bartender waved her hand, "I'm sorry, you're not one of my regulars, I shouldn't joke so bluntly right off the bat. Normally, the heavier the starting drink, the more sorrow the customer is trying to drown out."

"Hmm. Well, you're observations are quiet astute, as that is exactly why I ordered it," you say with a cocky smile.

"Well, the down on their luck do happen to be our target audience," the woman says flipping her shaker and bottles again, "May I ask what we are drowning today?"

You make a raspberry sound and then rub your face.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," the woman said to you.

You laugh, "No it's fine, just hard to sum up in a quick statement. Just... work bullshit and... I don't know... utter fucking confusion of my life and what to do."

The woman nods sympathetically, "Sounds like hell." She looks at you, you both crack a smile and laugh. She hands you your drink.

"Sure is Hell... Just... almost felt like I had escaped it for a little... But anyways... I won't bother you more with my bullshit," you say looking down at your drink and taking it in your hands.

The woman shrugged, "Hell doesn't got therapists, bartenders are as close as they come. Name's Brooklyn if you need anything else, sweetheart." Brooklyn said, flipping the towel over her shoulder again as she went to greet another new guest who had settled on the other side of the bar. By the way Brooklyn greeted them, they looked like a regular.

You sipped on your drink and people watched for a while. As the night went on, you ordered some food and a few more drinks, watching people some and go. The room started to fill up with more patrons.

At one point, you saw a young Imp couple come in and snuggle into a booth together, kissing and snuggling, happily tipsy and enjoying each other's company. You sighed, you missed Lucifer and the way he would hold you. You wished it was real, you wished you could figure out if anything about your relationship with him was real. It also still drove you crazy trying to figure out why you would want it to be real. It was just a job... right?

Eventually, some drunk guy sauntered up to you. 'Oh boy, here we go.'

"Hey hot stuff, what are you doing moping over here by yourself, you're to sexy to be sad," he slurred at you, leaning on the bar.

You sighed, turned on your barstool and kicked one leg over the other, "Actually, I'm just sexy enough to be sad, thank you very much. Also... just out of curiosity, does this tactic ever work for you? The whole drunken loser with a backhanded compliment shtick?" You cock and eyebrow and smile.

"Wha- pffttt. Wow, why you gotta be such a bitch? I was just wanting to show you a fun time," he said leaning more into your face.

"Oh ya? And what would that look like? A minute of disappointing fingering and unimaginative attempts at dirty talk followed by five minutes of lack-luster penetration, doggy style with my unstimulated, unenthused, bone dry cooch while you scream "You like that you dirty little slut? You like how daddy fucks your tight little pussy, babygirl?" before you combust and roll over saying you are too tired to even attempt to make me feel any amount of pleasure, let alone getting me off? That kind of fun time?" you say giving him a smug smile.

The man in front of you just stares at you slack-jawed, so mad and confused he did not know what to say. You smirk, kick one of your heels up onto the middle of his chest, "That little bit of fun public degradation is the most fun we will be having tonight. Now get out of my face." You say as you push your foot against his chest, sending the man toppling backwards into a few onlookers that parted to let him drop to the floor and flail. You get a couple of whistles, claps, and hollers as you turn back to your drink.

Brooklyn stood at your end of the bar with a big smile on her face, "Well then! I was about to get ready to tell him to piss off, but you seem to have already handled it."

You shrug, "Men like him know they have no chance with shit like lines like that. They know they are going to get shut down and honestly, they love being put in their place. It's a kink for them, even if they would never want to admit it outright. I did him a favor really. If he is able to remember any of that interaction tomorrow, he'll have jerk off material for weeks." You say looking at him still splayed out on the floor.

Brooklyn howled with laughter, "Wow! That's incredible! Hey, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"No, I won't do you next," you say, you and Brooklyn erupt into more laugher. "Sorry, yes, ask away."

"Are you a sex worker?" Brooklyn asked. You nod. "Nice! My ex-girlfriend used to be a sex worker and she used to be able to mentally bulldoze men like that, so I was just curious. It's always so fun to watch."

"Guilty as charged, but I'm off the clock for a few days," you say.

"Ah, very good. Doing anything fun?" Brooklyn asked.

You picked up your cup and shook it.

"Just drink away your sorrows? Sounds like a bummer of a vacation," she says wiping down the counter.

You shrugged and sighed, "I just... have some things I need to figure out. Just needed some space for a few days."

She leaned on the bar, "Space from what, if I may be so bold?"

You nod, "Ehhh, it's... not something I can talk about with others."

She shrugged, "Fair enough. I'm here every day if you change your mind."

"Thanks." You finish up a couple more drinks, happily drunk and numb, thanked Brooklyn and paid for your evening, and waddled your way back to the hotel before passing out for the night.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning you wake up with a hangover, which you expected, but it was worth it. You scroll through your phone for a while, but eventually you realize that you aren't actually looking at anything , just scrolling just to scroll. You sigh and stare at the ceiling of the hotel room, the thoughts of your issue with Lucifer drifting back.

You eventually feel the thoughts start to frustrate you and you start to cry. Why was this so hard?! The thoughts did not seem to want to organize themself into anything helpful, just stagnated in place in your mind, floating around like milk soaked Cheerios. Hells, you wish you could talk to someone, literally anyone about your issues, but you couldn't. You ended up getting up and pacing again until you ended up pressing your forehead against the cold window again. You looked out at all of the stores and people walking around, until your eyes landed on the Rock Bottom. You smiled, thinking about Brooklyn and the drunk guy from the night before.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in your head. Brooklyn, you COULD talk to Brooklyn! You just could not give her exact details like Lucifer, Charlie, the hotel, but you could talk to her about it in more general terms. Yes! This was the answer! Well... if Brooklyn was serious about being someone that you could talk to. It... wouldn't hurt to at least ask, right?

You quickly got dressed and popped back across the street to the Rock Bottom. You walked inside the bar, it was a lot more slow during the day, but there were still a few customers scattered around the downstairs area. You saw a young man at the bar, but no Brooklyn. You were disappointed not to see her.

"Hey there!" the young man called out to you, "Welcome in, how can I help you?"

"Hey... sorry, umm... I was kinda looking to see if Brooklyn was here. I can come back later," you start to turn to leave.

"Oh! No she is here, she's just in the back. I'll go get her for you!" the young man said before disappearing into the back. A few minutes later, Brooklyn emerged from the back storage room, and smiled when she saw you.

"Ah! Afternoon, sweetheart. How are you doing today?" Brooklyn smiled.

"Hey! I'm doing... alright... Hope I'm not interrupting anything," you say rubbing your arm.

Brooklyn waved a hand, "Don't worry about it, just doing inventory, earlier to do during the day when it's slower. What can I do for you?"

"Well..." you start, looking at the floor, then balled your hands into fits to get yourself to ask, "Did you mean what you said about being here... if I needed to talk?"

Brooklyn smiled, and looked at her watch, "I'm sure I can squeeze you in for an appointment, you good waiting for my lunchbreak?"

You waved you hands, "Oh! I don't want to take away from your lunch break! Plus, I don't want you to get in trouble or anything with your boss."

Brooklyn laughed, you looked at her confused, "Sweetheart, I am the boss, I can do what I want, and right now, I want to hear about what's got you sulking to my part of town and drowning your sorrows in my bar." You smiled and nodded, you don't know what it was about her, but you trusted her. She kinda reminded you of your grandmother, in the cool spunky kinda way, also maybe a little bit of how you used to be with your siblings. You waited about an hour and a half at the bar to finish up her inventory, and then you and her went up to a little balcony on the second level of the bar.

"Welcome to my office, now tell me miss... oh fuck... I just realized I've never asked your name," Brooklyn said embarrassed.

You laughed, "It's ok, it's (y/n)."

"Well alright, miss (y/n). What's going on?"

You start, without giving away exact details, tell Brooklyn the tale of the last several months, getting hired by a powerful person to secretly be their prostitute, the sex turning into nights of supports on both sides, helping them reconnect with their child and helping them achieve their goals, how they defended you against an abusive client, you left out the extermination fight but did mention that they were wanting to keep you safe during that event, and finally the night that brought you here. The whole time, Brooklyn listened intently, nodding and sometimes asking a clarifying question or two.

At the end of that all, Brooklyn sighed. "I can see why you'd be feeling overwhelmed right now. It would be confusing to love someone and got some drunk inducted, confusing confirmation of returned feeling while in a weird role/power dynamic with them."

You nodded, "Ya..." you blinked as you processed what she had said, "Wait... what?"

She looked at you and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

You stared at her, "I... I never said I loved him."

She nodded, "Yes you did."

You stared at her, "When???"

She smiled, "With every word you said about this person, how you treated them, how you felt about how they treated you... You do love them, right?"

You thought through everything, every look, every touch, every nickname, every night in his arms, every time he showed up in your room, the way he protected you, the way you thought of him when we were alone or with other clients, the way you felt being with him and Charlie at the hotel, the unbridled fear you felt at him telling him telling you he loved you. Why you cared if you lost him. It was all because you were afraid of losing the love you felt from him. The love you felt for him.

You loved him, you loved Lucifer.

Tears poured from your eyes as the realization sunk into you. You turned to look at Brooklyn, "Oh my god... I love him."

Brooklyn laughed, "Did you not realize until just now?"

You shook your head, the tears getting heavier, "No!" you choked out, your breath heaving, "I've never knew love could feel like this. I've never felt this before!" You start to crumple inward as the tears overtake you.

Brooklyn's smile faded, "Oh sweetheart," she pulled you into a hug as you sobbed. You tried to apologize and she just shushed you.

After you calmed down, you sigh, "Ok but... how do I know if he actually loves me?"

"He does," Brooklyn said.

"How do you know?" you sniffle.

She gives you a look, "Girl, how many guys that hire hookers introduce them to their daughters and then keep bringing them around their daughter and her friends?"

You blinked.

"And if that isn't enough, he beat up another client that hurt you. He doesn't just love you. He is down bad for you," Brooklyn smiled.

"And you're sure?" you ask.

Brooklyn nodded, "100%, on my afterlife, or may Satan take my bar."

You sniffled again and laughed, "Well, I wouldn't want Satan to take over your bar... I don't know him, but I get the feeling he wouldn't be as good of a bartender as you." You and Brooklyn laugh.

You look out from the balcony, thinking about how somewhere far away, on the other side of the circle, Lucifer, the King of Hell, was in love with you. Maybe thinking about you. Missing you. It made your heart ache, thinking of how you had run away from him, when you now realize he was probably just too scared to tell you how he felt.

"Do you think he'll be mad at me for running away from him?" you ask Brooklyn.

She shook her head, "If he is any man worth keeping, and if there really is that much of a power dynamic difference, he'll understand why you did what you did."

You nod. At this point, Brooklyn had to go back to work. You hung out at the bar the rest of the night, not getting nearly as drunk this time.

The next two days, you would go back to the bar during Brooklyn's breaks to talk through new thoughts and insecurities, and Brooklyn would softly but firmly refute each one. Damn, is this what therapy was like in the living world? Life would have turned out different maybe if this was something you had back then. Oh well, it's too late now.

On your last day, you packed up your room and went to say goodbye to Brooklyn, she gave you a hug and wished you goodbye. Telling you that you were always welcome to come back and talk, and that she expected an invite to the wedding if it worked out. You both laughed.

Soon, it was time to get int the car and head back home, back to the Lounge, back to Lucifer.

_____________________________________________________________

A little bit later, you arrived back at the Lounge. You got out of the car, headed up to your room to drop off your bag, then headed downstairs to see Larry and tell him you were back.

You found Larry and he smiled to see you, "Babydoll! I'm so glad you're back. How're ya feeling?"

You smiled, "Much better, thank you for being patient with me."

"Of course! Now, here is your rescheduled appointments for tomorrow," he said handing you a list. You looked through, and were disappointed to not see "Lance" in his usual time. You looked up at Larry.

"No Lance?"

Larry shook his head, "We called him and let him know you were going on vacation, and he said he would call back when he wanted to reschedule." Ok, no problem. You could get that, maybe he just didn't want to jump on when you were going to be getting home from your break. Ya, that sounds like something he would do. He loved you, right? You could be patient.

You were patient... as days turned to weeks, and Lucifer did not call to schedule with you. Every day you lost more hope, life slipped back into the way it was before you had ever known him. Cynthhhhia watched you from the shadows of the brothel, pleased to see your decent into misery as she started to get more well paying client's again. Sure, playing nice with the customers did pay off, but so did knocking Larry's favorite girl off of her groove. And the best part? No, one would ever know.

One day you looked out the window of your apartment and sighed, "Guess you were wrong after all, Brooklyn. Looks like Satan will be coming for the bar after all."

You wanted to laugh at the idea of Satan trying to run a bar, but all you could do was cry as your newly discovered heart was now broken.

Serves you right for thinking that love was actually possible in such a hopeless place.

______________________________________________________________

Charlie's phone rang, she looked over to see her dad's ID pop up on her phone. She scrambled to pick it up, she had called him several times over the last couple of week and he had not been answered. It had her worried, he had not done this since before his visit to the hotel that brought them back together.

"Dad! Hi! It's so good to see you call. Are you ok?" Charlie asked.

Lucifer cleared his throat on the other end of the phone, "O-Oh course! Why, why would anything be the matter?"

"Uhh... because you haven't answered any of my calls in weeks? Also you and (y/n) were basically here every day and now I haven't seen either of you..." Charlie waited for a moment, Lucifer struggled to figure out what to say. Hearing your name made his heart sear with pain.

"Oh uh... we've uh... it's just been busy." Lucifer said.

"Dad, did something happened?" Charlie pleaded.

"I... I'm sorry sweetie, I can't talk about this right now. I was just calling to see if you could go to a meeting for me? Please?" Lucifer pouted. That was not a good sign. Something must have happened, but now did not seem like a good time to press, not over the phone anyway.

Charlie sighed, "Ok Dad, on one condition."

Lucifer paused, "That condition being???"

"Just... just come visit sometime this week, come have dinner with me? Please?" Charlie pleaded again.

Lucifer sighed, he may not have you, but he did still have his daughter, he couldn't lose that again, "Ok, I will."

"Great! I'll see you later! Text me the details of the meeting. I love you, Dad."

Lucifer told Charlie he loved her too, then Charlie hung up, and turned to see Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Alastor, and Niffty all looking at her in anticipation.

"What kin'a scheme you cookin' up now, Princess?" Angel asked.

"Well, would anyone up for a little, community "Emotional Intervention" bonding?" Charlie was met with a room full of mischievous, sharp, approving smiles.

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courtforshort15 · 2 years

Text

All I Feel is You

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word Count: 10,700

Summary: The story of how Matt Murdock falls in love with you, as told through the five senses

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of sex and oral sex

Written for this post by @dorothleah

Seriously guys, this was supposed to be short🤣🤣

Masterlist

1. Touch

The fabrics you tend to wear are warm and inviting and almost begging to be touched. Every single thread is soft and calming, more so than what Matt is accustomed to finding on friends and the general public, and it's become a much welcomed change. He's noticed that you very rarely wear cotton, instead sticking to silk and satin and cashmere, and though you’ve only been at the firm a scant few weeks, he is addicted and can’t help but want to run his fingers up and down the fabric, dying to know how it would feel underneath his fingertips.

He’s felt silk and satin and cashmere before, often preferring those materials on his own skin, but he’s never felt them on you, and it somehow still changes the way he gravitates towards them. The thought is arousing and enticing in a way he would have never thought possible.

The fabric slides over your skin as you move, and Matt finds the sound almost distracting, wishing it was his fingers that were sliding over you instead. When you wear dresses, the material sways around your legs as you walk by him, and it takes everything in Matt to not pull you close and slide your dress up, just so that he can test if the clothing you wear is as soft as the inside of your thighs.

His fingers twitch at his sides whenever you move past him, ruthlessly pushing all indecent thoughts away and out of his head. He knows that if he were ever to touch you like the way he's hungered for weeks, he'd never be able to stop.

Matt very nearly loses all semblance of control the first time you grab his hand and place it around the crook of your elbow, silk blouse pressed between his flesh and yours.

Typically Foggy is the one to lead him, perhaps even Karen, because leading a visually impaired individual is a skill, and it requires a certain level of finesse and anticipation of the other’s needs. You’ve been hesitant, he’s aware, to guide him, though not because you don’t want to help him; it’s because you’re afraid you’ll mess up, you admit, and he outwardly laughs in your face.

You flush, smacking his chest, and tell him you’re nervous you’ll forget to remind him of a step up or down, nervous you’ll walk him right into something or someone. He finds it adorable, especially given the fact that he has better coordination and direction than you ever will.

He’s not ready to tell you that yet, though the secret is constantly brimming at his lips, ready to spill at any given moment, regardless of the consequences.

But one day Foggy has a late meeting with a client across town, and Karen has left early for a date, and it’s just you left in the office with him. The long work day ends with a quiet sigh, the office pleasantly peaceful as the last few hours of work tamper off, and Matt startles when you kindly offer to help walk him home. It’s later than you’re usually at the office, and Matt briefly wonders if you’ve stayed because he had needed to finish things and wasn’t able to leave at a decent time.

Matt strives for a healthier life-work-vigilante balance, has worked for it since things ended with Fisk a little over a year ago, but he’s still a work in progress. He’s addicted to his work, both the work that sees the light of day and the work that doesn’t, and he still sometimes forgets that it impacts others, too, despite the constant drilling of these details into his mind by Foggy and Karen.

“It’s really not necessary,” he tells you with a laugh after the offer spills from your lips, packing his things up and putting his suit jacket back on, sliding his arms through the sleeves. The weather is still decently temperate, the warmth of summer still desperately clinging to New York City, but he can already feel the way the air outside has started cooling down now that the sun has almost finished its descent below the skyscrapers that surround the neighborhood. “I know my way around Hell’s Kitchen well enough. I’ll be okay.”

And the words are true enough, with or without his senses. He’s a New York City boy, through and through, and he knows these streets and city blocks like the back of his hand.

You pick up your purse, pushing the strap over one shoulder, before turning back to him. The sound of your hair and the smell of the shampoo still clinging to each strand stirs a sense of want and yearning, one he so desperately wants to satisfy.

“What if it makes me feel better?”

Matt shakes his head, smirking, the look on his face something Foggy would probably label as the typical Matt Murdock charm. The ticking of the clock echoes through the office, and though he can't read the time, the dull sounds of the New York City streets outside the window tells him it's later than he thought it was.

“And what if the idea of you going out of your way at night just to walk me home makes me feel worse?” He’s teasing, of course, though there’s some level of truth to it. He hates the idea of you walking alone at night, knowing far too well the danger that seems to always lurk in the alleyways, knowing far too well that even he can’t be everywhere at once, should something happen to you.

The words that leave his mouth seem to temporarily quiet you, but Matt’s not shocked when the silence ends after only a moment or two. You're usually quick with a rebuttal, your mind always sifting through sentences and body language, and Matt waits in amusement as you work to find the right reply for the situation.

“It’s hardly night,” you finally respond, decidedly shoving the concern aside easily. “It’s only 7. There’s still a little light out.”

Matt may not be able to see the way his face lights up or darkens with certain expressions, but he knows he’s giving you the driest look possible. “You’d still be going far out of your way. Don’t you live in the opposite direction?”

He hears you scoff, though the sound is more amused than anything. “I can walk you home and take a cab back to my place.”

“You should take a cab back to your place regardless of where you are at this time at night,” he counters, stepping completely out of his office and into the lobby of their space, briefcase in one hand, cane in the other. “But I promise I’m fine on my own. It’s only a few blocks.”

“Humor me.”

It’s a last ditch effort, he’s well aware, if the helpless sigh you let out is anything to go by. You’re waiting for him by the front door, and Matt, despite his protests, wants nothing more than to walk through it with you and bring you home with him.

“Fine,” he says with another sly grin, and he hears the way you exhale in relief. “But only because I’m not going to pass up a few extra minutes with you when you’ve so graciously offered them.”

The words settle between the two of you, and Matt can feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks as vividly as if he was pressed up against you. Your heart skips briefly, and the sound reverberates in his head. He laughs internally in pure satisfaction when you gulp.

“Fine,” you repeat the word back to him, voice slightly higher than it had been a few moments ago, and Matt can’t help but still be secretly pleased with the reaction you’ve given him. “Are you ready then?”

He gestures towards the exit. “Whenever you are.”

“Good,” you say, turning to open the door, but before you can step through it, you pause. Matt tilts his head at you curiously, wordlessly questioning the silence and the way you've hesitated.

“So…this is an awkward question, and I don’t know how to do it delicately, so I’ll just dive in. At what point–”

Matt cuts you off, suddenly knowing where this was going. This time he's unable to hold back a laugh. “You want to know when you should offer your arm.”

There’s not a moment of hesitation on your end when you answer. “Yeah, pretty much.”

The grin on his face widens, and Matt wonders if it’s possible to ever frown when you’re around. “I can make my way to the elevator just fine,” he says with a brief shrug of his shoulders, unsnapping his cane as he takes a few steps forward. “But having help after that is always appreciated.”

“Got it,” you reply with a quick nod. You turn back to the door, finally opening it up, and step back so that he has room to walk through. “After you, Matt.”

He resists the urge to brush past you as closely as he possibly can, and instead places a careful distance between your body and his. It's almost excruciating, this self-imposed separation, but he pushes the feeling down.

He doesn't need your assistance with this particular task, but he'll be damned if he doesn't take full advantage.

It’s not long before the elevator is dropping you down at the lowest level, and the doors slide open with a quiet ding. He follows your lead, taking a step outside and into the fresh air of the building lobby, and waits patiently for you to reach for him.

Your hand is trembling as it stretches out to grab his, Matt notes curiously, but it’s steady by the time it pulls him slightly forward. Soft fingers settle on the skin of his wrist, and he adjusts his body so that he’s grasping the crook of your elbow as you step further in.

Matt’s stood intoxicatingly close to you before. He's felt the heat of your body close to his as you pass him files, or when you sit next to him at lunch. He’s felt the length of your hair brush his arm lightly as you reach for something that is on the other side of him, felt the way your breath fans over his face when you lean in to whisper something in his ear while at court. It drives him crazy, these little moments of feeling you, always burning and aching for more.

But through all of that, nothing has prepared him for the feeling of silk that encases your upper arm and the way it feels against your skin resting underneath it. He’s sure he’s gone to heaven, or whatever sort of heaven is possible for a man like him, and he knows then and there that he needs to feel the way your skin will slide against the silk of his own sheets.

You feel far too wonderful him in that moment, wrapped in the soft material the way that you are, and Matt relishes the way your sensitive skin is an equal match to his, knowing he’ll never have to wonder or worry about rough, scratchy fabric rubbing against him if you can help it. It’s exhilarating, this idea that you’ll always be soft and ready for him.

He’s going to have you, one day. You may not know it yet, but there will be a day when he has you spread out and waiting underneath him, and he’ll tell you that it was this moment that was the tipping point for him.

It's hard to focus as you walk him home, saying your goodbyes at his doorstep when a cab pulls up, and he knows his hand will feel empty and bereft until it has the chance to settle on you once more. It’s like he was always meant to hold you, always meant to touch you, and he’ll wait patiently for you to come to the same realization.

2. Hearing

Matt has long since learned to drown out noises that aren’t necessary to the tasks at hand. His ears always pick up everything going on around him, relying on them more often than not for obvious reasons, but he’s mastered the art of tuning things out if they are not currently relevant to what he is working on. It’s a skill Stick had taught him, and it is perhaps the best thing that man had ever done for him, encouraging him to focus in the moment while forever remaining vigilant.

The same cannot be said for you.

He's not exactly sure when the others pick up on the way you need things to be softer, but he notices the first time you flinch as the front door slams shut by mistake.

A potential client, rejected by their team due to several, incessant lies that pour from his mouth in the thirty minutes they meet with him, storms out of the office in annoyance. He mutters angrily to himself as he leaves, and yanks the door behind him, the sound of it echoing throughout the office.

The sound was expected by Matt, having already anticipated the way it would reverberate throughout their space due to the heaviness and speed of the door headed towards the frame, but with his senses trained towards you, as they so often are, he doesn't miss the way you flinch and cover your ears.

Harsh and loud noises are triggering for you, it seems, and it’s something he can fully sympathize with, unfortunately. He finds it concerning, if not a little intriguing, this flash of vulnerability you display.

Your voice is gentle as it floats out around the office, rarely rising above a certain decibel, almost encouraging those around you to keep things quiet as well. It's impacted the way he, Foggy and Karen listen and speak to each other, making an effort not to shout things through offices, but rather get up and find the person they’re talking to. The transition happens almost over night, and he can sense the way your body relaxes the longer you are employed with them, trusting the team to use voices that aren’t louder than they really need to be.

Over the course of the months you spend settling into their team, you're frequently invited to happy hour at Josie's. It’s easy for him to pick up on the way you love joining the team, having told them you hadn’t felt like New York was home until you accepted their offer of employment, and it warms him. Your cheeks flush with the buzz of alcohol, your posture relaxes, and your speech becomes less poised, less polished. And every time you join them, without fail, you have soft, silicone plugs nestled in your ears while you're seated at the table.

Tonight you’re seated next to him, something that Matt had carefully orchestrated while you were placing a drink order at the bar, adjusting himself so that the only open seat would be next to him. He tries not to give himself away, but he can’t help but lean into you as far as he can without making it extremely obvious how much he wants to be pressed against you at all times.

He inhales sharply when you abruptly twist your body so that you’re angled towards him in a way that suggests he might not be alone in this need that runs viciously through him.

Matt does his best to focus in on the story you’re telling, your arms gesturing wildly as you regale the group with a funny anecdote about your younger brother. Your voice, despite the loudness of the bar, is still gentle in its cadence, and Matt has long since determined that no other voice will ever captivate him the way yours does.

When you’re done, you take a long sip of your drink, the liquid sliding down your throat, and Matt longs to wrap his hand around the column of your neck just to feel it, while maybe tilting your head back to kiss you in the process.

Before Matt has the chance to ask you a follow-up question about your brother, curious to know more about the life you’ve led before moving to New York, Foggy jumps in with a question of his own, shouting over the noise of the bar.

"I've never asked before, but why do you wear ear plugs when we come here?"

You freeze next to him, and for a brief second Matt wants to shove his friend off of his bar stool. It’s a question he’s always had, though he thinks he already knows the answer, but he hates the way you’ve been put on the spot. He opens his mouth to tell you that you don’t need to answer, but you reply anyway, cutting him off.

"I, uh…I can get overwhelmed with loud noises," you explain quietly, fidgeting with the napkin still resting in your lap, placed there to wipe salt and grease off of your fingers as you munch on the french fries the group had ordered. "Sometimes it just gets to be too much. I can't focus on what's going on in front of me because everything else is just too loud. The ear plugs drown some things out."

Foggy tilts his head in curiosity, and Matt throws him a look of warning, wordlessly asking him to tread carefully, unwilling to let anything upset you. It had surprised him, initially, his reaction to the thought of you being uncomfortable, but now he knows and no longer questions the fact that he’d gladly rake his body over flaming coals if it meant you were always safe and happy and settled in whatever environment you found yourself in.

Foggy hasn’t caught on to his feelings just yet, but Karen has, and he can practically feel the amused side-eye she’s shooting him.

He rests a hand on your knee gently, intending to only leave it there for a second, but your hand suddenly reaches down and grabs it, easily interlacing your fingers with his. Matt tracks the way your cheeks flush, the way your heartbeat stutters for a split second, and is unable to stop the way his face splits open in a smile.

"Can you hear us okay, then? When you have them in?" Foggy questions, continuing on with the topic, completely oblivious to the body language of the people around him.

You let out a quiet laugh. "You're sitting close enough that it's not really an issue. But I am decent at reading lips, so that usually helps, too."

“Gotcha,” Foggy says with an easy smile. “Let me know if there’s ever anything we can do to help make you more comfortable."

The conversation about your ear plugs ends there, Matt steering them gently towards another topic to help lead the focus off of something he can tell you're slightly self-conscious about, and he's rewarded by another squeeze of his hand.

After that evening, the group still goes to Josie's fairly often, but they begin taking turns hosting happy hour at their own individual apartments. It becomes a frequent habit, ordering take out and staying in rather than going out, and Matt easily admits to himself that the quieter get-togethers are easier on his own ears, too.

The lack of the sharp noises and drunken chatter of a bar also gives him the ability to focus on your heartbeat just that much easier, jumping whenever he gently brushes his fingers over yours when handing you another drink or carton of fried rice, and that alone makes the slight change worth it.

Matt is committed at this point, intimately aware of what his presence does to you, and while he’d wait forever, he’s desperate to hear every single moan, gasp, or sigh he can draw out of you with his body pressed against yours.

"I never did thank you," you say quietly one evening, helping toss the beer bottles in his recycling bin. Foggy and Karen left ten minutes ago, claiming the need to prep a few more things before trial tomorrow, though Matt knows they had strategically left him alone with you on purpose.

Sometimes he thinks his friends are trying to get back at him for the years of chaos and tears he’s caused them.

"Thank me for what?" He asks, throwing some of the leftover Chinese into his fridge. He packs up a small bag of leftover white rice and vegetables for you to take, knowing without verbal confirmation that the slight blandness is something you'll enjoy and appreciate. He enjoys it, too, strong flavors sometimes too much for him, but he would rather you have it.

"You're the one who started encouraging us to spend time as a smaller group at someone's place, rather than going out," you say, voice floating through his apartment. He may not yet have told you about his own senses, but for some reason you've picked up on the way he can always hear you, no matter how soft or loud you are. "And I just really appreciate it. Going out isn't a big deal, but this is still a nice change sometimes."

Matt steps out of his kitchen to where you've picked up your purse from his table and stands directly in front of you, close enough to reach out and touch. He notices the way your breathing catches, as it always does when he stands near, and for whatever reason, tonight he feels emboldened to fully lean into it.

He reaches out to run a gentle finger down your cheekbone, and you sigh and seem to lean into it instinctively. It's all the encouragement he needs to continue. "I've found that I'd do just about anything to make sure you're comfortable," he says, enjoying the way your skin heats, and he takes another step forward, hand now fully cupping the side of your face. "Whatever you need from me to help that, I'll do it."

You pause for a moment, apparently weighing something in your mind, and he feels the moment you've made some sort of decision. He stands still when you take a tiny step towards him, the heat of you downright scalding, and he waits with bated breath for you to say something.

"You don't need to do anything, Matt," you whisper quietly, taking his other hand in yours. "But thank you all the same. Truly."

Months of him needing you near more than he needs to breathe, months of him needing to put you first before all other things in his life, causes him to close the distance, unable and unwilling to spend one more second of not knowing what your mouth feels like underneath his.

Your lips are warm and soft as he presses against them, and he keeps the kiss gentle. Your hands reach up to wrap themselves in his shirt, and Matt knows he'll spend the rest of his life wanting to hear nothing else but that quiet sigh that leaves your mouth as it parts for his.

3. Taste

Matt grew up in perhaps one of the most unique melting pots in the world.

New York City is an explosive mixture of cultures and ethnicities and races, and he’s been exposed to all the wonderful things that come with the mixture of so many people living in his city - the different music, the different languages, the different dreams and ideals.

But the one thing that never fails to disappoint and sadden him about it is the fact that all the different foods of the world, so easily within his grasp, can be extremely overwhelming to his sense of taste. It’s a sense of irony that he doesn’t appreciate.

Over the years, he’s learned to cook with minimal spices and flavors, almost desperate to avoid making his taste buds go haywire, but though everything he makes is nourishing and edible, it doesn’t necessarily make them…good. Matt has a relatively bland diet, sticking to foods and flavors that are subtle, and the repetition is boring.

But then…you come along.

It’s like an explosion, the flavors you bring with you in your lunches and snacks every day. Matt’s mouth salivates over the meals you bring in, knowing without tasting them that nothing you make will overwhelm his taste buds. It’s never anything fancy, he admits. But you’ve tossed ingredients and spices together in a way that he would have never thought to mix, and it suddenly sets him on a renewed journey of finding new things he can’t wait to try.

Rich and savory spices and herbs spill out of your small backpack as you load them in the fridge every day, and the way the scents sometimes stick to your skin makes him want to take you home and never take his tongue off of you.

…which, he feels that way one hundred percent of the time anyway, the taste of your skin divine by itself, but these moments bring out his hunger for you even more. He's had his tongue on you now, had it in you, and he'd gladly spend the rest of his time here on Earth tasting nothing but the salt on every single inch of your body that you'll let him touch.

He's only made love to you once, but Matt can no longer imagine his life without your taste in his mouth.

It's a rainy Friday night in Hell's Kitchen when you manage to drag him to one of your favorite restaurants, though the word drag is used lightly. He's eager and selfish enough to take every spare second you'll give him, but even he can admit that some cases at work require late evenings. There's an everlasting desire to press his lips to yours, if only to draw out every sound he now knows you can make, so he follows you anyway, despite the heavy workload resting on the secondhand desk that's situated in his office.

The streets of New York City are wet and miserable, but you pull him happily with you, and he has no control over the heart that has decided your hand is a better home and keeper than his own chest.

Before you even round the corner with him half a step behind, he knows instinctively what restaurant you’re taking him to without a word being spoken. It's a few blocks outside of Hell's Kitchen, so he's never really walked by this restaurant before, but now, just a few hundred feet from him, it calls to him, a delicious mixture of spices and herbs and sugars rolling across his tongue that are satisfying without being overwhelming.

He takes his time on your arm, enjoying the way you sway and swerve in between other pedestrians, simply because it gives him an excuse to hold onto you that much tighter. And by the time he holds the door open for you to step inside, Matt's mouth is almost drooling in want and hunger.

It's not long before food is being placed in front of you both, and he wastes not a single second before diving in. He knew before he even entered the restaurant that he was about to eat one of the most fantastic meals of his life, outside of the classic bacon and eggs and pancakes his father used to make him every Saturday morning while he watched cartoons.

The same explosion of flavors that he had smelled from outside is there, foods that are bold but still somehow subtle, and he swears he's never tasted a combination of ingredients and sauces and spices that fit so well with his palette.

Add in the fact that the restaurant uses natural products to clean their dishes and wash their vegetables, rather than burning chemicals that scald both his nose and tongue, and it makes him feel like he never wants to eat anywhere else again.

He also never wants to eat or discover new things with anyone else but you again, but that's a conversation for another time.

"This is one of my favorite places to come to," you say lightly with a soft smile on your lips, and Matt hmms in agreement, because it has suddenly managed to become one of his favorites, too. "I found it a few months back. It’s relatively new, I think. It just has so many options to choose from that fit with the sorts of things I like."

Matt lifts his fork to his mouth, eyes briefly shutting in contentment, a swirl of rich, savory flavors that settle enticingly on his tongue. He savors it before he swallows.

He can track down every ingredient used for this specific dish. The vegetables are the same ones Monica Smith sells in her small market on 42nd, the chicken from the butcher on 57th. Most of these ingredients are sold fresh and locally, sources that Matt often trusts with his own meals that he cooks himself, and there's nothing more comforting than tasting Hell’s Kitchen, than tasting home on his tongue.

"Do you come here often, then?" He asks once he places his fork down and takes a sip of his drink.

Your mouth twists into a smirk. "You've already got me, Matthew. No need to use a pick up line.”

A startled laugh escapes his throat, and the sound echoes throughout the quiet restaurant. "That's not how I meant it."

"Felt like you were putting the moves on me like we were some sort of dive bar," you tease. You blow on the spoonful of soup you're about to wrap your mouth around to eat, and Matt can't help but think of the way your mouth had been wrapped around him not too long ago.

"No need to put the moves on you when I've apparently already got you, sweetheart," he fires back with a grin. "Though I'd be very interested in discussing that particular fact later. In detail."

A quiet laugh trickles over to him. "That can probably be arranged."

"Good," is all he says. He takes another bite, and you mirror him, finally placing the spoon in your mouth. Matt lets out a quiet moan, both at the taste of the food in his mouth and the taste that's now resting on your tongue, eager to pull you to him and share it with you by way of placing his mouth greedily on yours.

"But to answer your question, I do," you tell him once you swallow, and Matt simultaneously attempts to push the arousal away temporarily (he fails), and smiles at the way your voice sounds wistful and happy. He hopes the sound can be contributed to his company just as much as the food in front of you. "It's hard for me to find places that I like."

He tilts his head to the side. "Any specific reason why?"

You shrug, and Matt's attention lazily drifts to the sound the silk makes as it slides over your shoulders. He's had you in his bed now, and the sound of silk and your skin gliding against each other will forever be etched into his memory.

"Too many places just use ingredients that don't…taste right to me," you answer easily. "Too much salt. Too much grease. Too much everything, really. This place is more gentle, more thoughtful with how they prepare things, I think. Things just feel more natural here."

Matt has to bite back a smile because you just…get it.

He hasn't said a word to you about his senses, not yet at least, but somehow everything about you just fits with him, like you're two pieces of a puzzle, meant to connect and stay connected, revealing an image that only the two of you can see and feel.

"I understand what you mean by that," he says softly, reaching out to grasp your hand in his before he pulls away to grab his beer. "Have you always been that way? Sensitive to different foods? I've noticed the types of things you bring in for lunch; seems to be a common thread."

He feels the way your hand halts on its way to your mouth, and the pause sets him briefly on edge, the sound of your heartbeat stuttering for just a quick second. Opening his mouth, Matt means to ask what's wrong, but you answer before he can do so.

"Yeah, I've always been like this. I, uh…I'm on the spectrum," you tell him before shoving the bite of your salad in your mouth. Matt's mouth drops a fraction of an inch, honestly having not suspected the response. But it makes him pause, because all of a sudden it clicks that he has observed traits that seem to be consistent with what he knows about the diagnosis.

Sensitivity to sound. Sensitivity to certain fabrics. Sensitivity to taste. He hadn't caught on before, but now it just…makes sense.

You continue. "I'm a fairly mild case, honestly, but certain tastes and textures of food are just overwhelming sometimes, or they don't feel right in my mouth. It's hard to explain."

His focus quickly shifts to the way you adjust in your seat, as if nervous about his reaction, and he finds himself intensely disliking the thought of you regretting your admission in any way.

"You could try to explain, if you're comfortable with it," he suggests softly, reaching out to gently grasp and squeeze your hand again before he pulls back, needing you to know that anything you divulge is safe with him. He hopes that when he's ready to divulge a secret of his own, you'll sit and really hear him, the way he's always needed someone to hear him, the way he's always needed someone to hear him and still love him.

"Whatever you have to say, I want to listen."

Taking a deep breath, you place your fork on your plate, though Matt doesn't necessarily take it as a sign that you're uncomfortable with the topic, to which he is grateful, but rather something that indicates you're planning in your head what you want to say.

When you finally answer, Matt is utterly powerless to do nothing but give you every single cell of attention that resides in his body.

"I'm not necessarily shy about it, I'm actually pretty open about it, but I guess there's not much to say," you begin, sounding less hesitant than you had sounded just seconds before. "It's pretty common for people on the spectrum to be picky eaters, and that's always been the case for me. But even if it's common, it doesn't mean it's necessarily well understood why, and no two people and their reactions are the same. For some reason, it tends to be more prevalent in women, which makes it even more difficult to track or explain because there isn't a ton of research on women who are autistic. Most studies focus on men."

He hmms in the back of his throat, tilting his head to the side in consideration. "I guess I hadn't really thought about that."

"Most people don't," you say after another bite, and he frowns lightly at the tone of nonchalance in your voice, because even though you sound unaffected, he can hear the quiet waver that suggests that there's a part that ever so slightly bothers you at people's general lack of acknowledgment of the matter. He vows to learn every single thing you're able to teach him, vows to read every single book, published article, or internet post he can find. "Long story short, my sense of taste tends to be limited in terms of what I can tolerate, you know?"

Matts quiet for a moment before he responds. "Oddly enough, I can understand that," he says with a small smile, raising his glass to take another sip of his drink.

"I figured you would," you reply with a light shrug, the movement stirring the air around you, making the scent of you carry over to him enticingly. He opens his mouth ever so slightly to catch the taste on his tongue. "You tend to order pretty simple things when we all go out. You stick to the same foods and drinks for the most part."

A smirk replaces the grin on his face. "You've been paying attention to me? What am I supposed to do with that information, I wonder?"

He can feel the way your face flushes, and he imagines the color that is blooming rapidly across your cheeks. He vaguely remembers the color red, and he wonders if your skin is vibrant and bold right now, or if the hue is soft and sweet.

"Am I wrong, though?" You ask, neatly avoiding his own questions. "You prefer things that are subtle, things that taste smooth, as opposed to things that taste sharp or in your face, I guess? Do you know what I mean by that?"

"I do. Things that are easy rather than bold," he says with a quick nod. "I can't do bitter or spicy or sour."

Your face splits into a grin. "Exactly. Certain flavors are nice, but they can't be overwhelming or I just kinda…start to shut down. I don't tend to like new things. I'm perfectly happy sticking to the things I know I like."

Matt leans back in his seat as he places his napkin on the table in front of him. He waits until you swallow before speaking again, diving in for the kill, knowing exactly what sort of reaction he's hoping to get from you.

"I'm typically the same way," he says with a smirk. "Though, based on the other night, I'd have to say that my new favorite taste is you."

Your skin flares to life again as you take in a sharp breath, and the smile on his mouth is wide with borderline glee and satisfaction when you give him just the response he had been looking for.

He practically pats himself on the back for a job well done, but is unprepared for your response.

"Well," you say slowly, voice quiet and wavering for just a split second before it strengthens, "if that's the way you feel, then maybe we could go back to your place and you can have me for dessert."

It's Matt's turn to be momentarily speechless, and while blood had rushed to your cheeks at his comment, his own blood heads straight to his cock at yours, and at the thought of having his mouth on you again makes him go absolutely feral.

When he regains his ability to speak, he flags down the waiter he can hear at the table next to him, and asks for the check with a speed he's never managed to achieve, despite his years of snapping at the heels of every violent and manipulative criminal in Hell's Kitchen.

Your soft laugh continues to echo in his ear as he practically drags you to his apartment.

4. Scent

You miss two or three days of work a month due to what you’ve described as chronic migraines, and the whole office cringes in sympathy whenever you call out. Matt is no stranger to headaches, having had his head bashed in too many times to count, and he knows he’s caused several headaches of his own for Foggy and Karen, the direct result of them being friends with a man who is always finding himself in some sort of trouble.

But migraines, he’s heard, are a whole different ball game, and it saddens him to think of you in so much pain.

When you first started working for their firm, the team used to come to your home and bring you case files and notes at your request, as you were always eager to prove that you were a valuable member of their team, despite the illness that randomly knocked you on your ass for sometimes 24 to 48 hours. They all trust you to complete your work, usually staying late and working weekends to make up for lost time, and for months he humored you, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to show up on your doorstep and check up on you.

Now, though…it’s different.

He ignores your request to bring the files over, and is instead armed with decaffeinated coffee, green tea, peppermint tea, anything and everything he’s researched that is recommended to help ease you out of a migraine and prevent future ones. He’s not sure how much of it all works, but he’s willing and desperate to lessen your pain, even if only for a few minutes.

You’d gifted him with a key just a few weeks ago, shortly after he had told you he loved you for the first time. Unlike most things in his life, being with you is effortless and calm. The transition from friendship to this was seamless, the pair of you somehow knowing this was something meant to last, so he lets himself quietly into your apartment without a second thought.

The air conditioning is cranked up and blasting as it always is when a migraine sets in, something about heat being a trigger for you, and he doesn’t need to see to know that all the blinds are shut, cutting out all of the natural light and the warmth that would have hit his skin through the windows.

You’re in your bedroom, your heartbeat too rapid for his liking, so he sets the items he’s brought over onto your counter, removes his shoes and suit jacket, and makes his way towards you. You don’t say anything when he settles in behind you, just grabs his arm and pulls it around you, and within a few moments, you’re dead asleep. It’s as if you had been waiting on him before you could fully relax, trusting him to watch over you in your moments of vulnerability.

It’s hours later, well into the evening, when you finally stir again, your body stretching before sinking further into his. Matt had drifted off to sleep beside you for a bit, but had already been awake for an hour before your eyes fluttered open, grateful that your heart rate had decreased and your breathing settled into something more peaceful. The way your body physically reacts to any sort of stress, whether it be sickness or an impending deadline, never fails to put him on edge, ready to leap into the fray of whatever has the potential to cause you harm.

“You’re still here?” Your voice is groggy with sleep, though it’s not as tight with pain as it normally is when you’re in the throes of a migraine, so Matt finds himself relieved that the worst of it may have passed.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he whispers in your ear, tightening the arm resting around your waist. “I don’t have to go out for another few hours or so.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after 7,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head from where it’s almost tucked under his chin. “I got here around 3, after the meeting with that new client.”

“And you stayed the whole time?” The words are quiet, but they still sound slightly incredulous. “Matt…you had so much to do today.”

“Nothing more important than making sure you’re okay,” Matt responds easily, slotting his legs up behind yours, pressing the entire length of his body against you. You’d called early this morning while he had been on his way to work, claiming that an awful migraine had started up last night, and he had rushed through his day as quickly as possible. “Are you feeling better?”

You make a non-committal noise. “Maybe a little. I think my meds kicked in this afternoon.”

Matt hums quietly in your ear. “Have you considered a new brand? They don’t seem to be helping much. You still get them pretty frequently.”

Shifting in his hold, you suddenly turn to face him, and Matt adjusts by rolling slightly on to his back, allowing you to curl up against his side and lay your head on his chest. Matt uses the opportunity to brush a kiss against your forehead, the heat of your skin against his always welcome. He had long since removed his pants and shirt, having taken them off before he decided to nap with you, and the way you snuggle closer reminds him that you like being skin to skin just as much as he does.

“They help as much as they can,” you say with a subtle shrug. “It’s hard when something triggers it.”

Matt stills the hand that had naturally risen up to brush lightly against your back. “What triggered it?”

“The lady that came in yesterday afternoon.”

He furrows his brow, searching back through his memory. “Mrs. Henderson?” He feels you nod against his chest, still shuddering and inching impossibly closer. “What about her?”

“It was her perfume.”

“Her perfume triggered the migraine?” You nod again, and Matt frowns mildly as he starts piecing some things together.

It clicks. “Are you migraines…scent triggered?”

You sigh against him, throwing a leg over his, further settling yourself against him, and Matt tightens his arm. Your eyes flutter shut as you speak. “Yeah, usually. Being around strong scented things can be awful.”

Matt’s not sure why he hadn’t recognized it before, now that he thinks back on it. The way your apartment always smells clean, but not in a way that smells like a solution of pure chemicals. It always smells more natural, made up of subtle scents that are warm rather than piercing. Your detergent is in similar fashion, and the shampoo you use on your hair is soft and almost indistinct to anyone who doesn't have a nose like his. No candles. No air fresheners. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t noticed it, given the fact that he has always used similar products at his own place that are equally kind to his nose.

“How come I didn’t know this?” Matt questions curiously. He should have known, uniquely prepared and understanding of yet another sensory factor that he has in common with you. But unlike your own unique sensitivity, Matt has found a way to block out most scents, especially the more unpleasant ones that come with living in New York City.

“Didn’t seem important.”

“Didn’t seem–? It’s super important, if it means there’s something that causes you this much pain,” he argues quietly, resuming the movement of his hand running up and down your back. You arch into the touch. “I might not be able to help all of the time, but I might be able to help with this.”

Matt knows you know exactly what he’s talking about, having told you his biggest secret not long into the relationship. You take a sudden deep breath.

“I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” you admit quietly. “It didn’t really occur to me, that this might be something you could maybe…help with.”

“We’ll figure it out, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, shifting his head to kiss your cheek. “Whatever I can do to help, just like I said before.”

You nod sleepily into his chest, the conversation having apparently worn you out already, and Matt huffs a laugh when your eyes close again and don't reopen.

It doesn’t take long to develop a routine from there on out. Matt’s able to pick up on a scent headed up the elevator that he knows will bother you, long before the client even enters the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page, and he takes great care in either encouraging you to work from home the rest of the day, or hoarding you in his own office, the quiet and unassuming scent of your shampoo and detergent an everlasting sense of peace to his own sensitive nose.

It’s only been a few months, but he has every intention of permanently blending your scent with his.

5. Sight

You prefer muted lights over fluorescent ones.

It doesn’t take long for Matt to notice that the lights in your apartment are warm and relaxing, a strong contrast to the lights he can hear in other various settings. It’s no surprise to him, not really, when he pairs this detail with all the other sensitivities you have. And while the low lights are a benefit to your eyes, Matt considers them a benefit to his hearing.

He’s never mentioned it, but even though he can’t see the harsh lights of a courtroom or police station, he can hear them, and the buzzing noise isn’t always pleasant. He can block most things out, but the constant thrumming does wear on his nerves sometimes, a sharp sound that blazes across his skin before settling in his ears.

He appreciates coming home to you, for more reasons than he could ever possibly count, knowing that the only lights you’ve brought with you when you moved in are soft and warm and blessedly quiet.

Matt knows your eyes are sensitive, that you wear sunglasses whenever you’re outside, regardless of sun or rain or snow, and the lenses that perch on your nose have a special blue-light filter to help take away the strain of staring at a computer screen for too long. He split the cost of having custom sized curtains throughout the apartment to drown out some of the light, and he’s heard you explain to Foggy and Karen the reason the backlight on your phone is so muted.

This isn't something he can necessarily relate to, the one sense of five he is lacking and will never regain. He remembers what it was like to see, colors and faces and neighborhoods rich and vibrant, but light had never caused him actual pain.

He will forever live his life in the dark, even while you remain the bright and pulsing star he will never stop orbiting around.

Over the course of the past year and a half, Matt has spent time tracking the similarities he has with you. All the sensitivities that match up, and it's brought so much comfort to his life that he doesn't know how to articulate it. You've begun building a life together that is soft and soothing for you both.

He's not surprised that the topic of his own sight has taken so long to be brought up. Calm and simple conversations have sprouted up here and there, and he's always known that you'd haven't avoided the topic, but rather simply made it clear that while losing his sight has continued to be a large part of his story, it is not necessarily the one that is most important to you.

You have always understood that he is more than his blindness, even before his big reveal. And when the topic finally surfaces, it carries both more and less weight than it has anytime before.

"Matt," you begin quietly, settled in his arms after he absolutely wrecked your world with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He's wrapped himself around you from behind, one of his favorite ways to ensure that you're here with him, that you're safe, that you're his. "Can I ask a question?"

He makes a sound in the back of his throat quietly, indicating that yes, you can ask him anything. He has stripped down every barrier that keeps you from him, both his walls and yours, and there is nothing he'll deny you.

You must pick up the unspoken words he's given you in a language only the two of you understand, so you proceed. "If this sounds insensitive, please tell me. I don't want to upset you, I'm just curious."

Beyond interested now, Matt rolls you in his arms until you're facing him. Your breath gently rolls over him as he pushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Taking a deep breath, your mouth parts in response. "Do you…ever wish you could still see?"

The question makes him pause in a way he hasn't quite stilled before. He's been asked the same question hundreds of times over the decades of his life since the accident, and the answer has always been the same. In an effort to tell people he's happy with where his life is at, in an effort to make people not pity him by him thinking a part of his life is missing, he has always responded with a quick, no, I'm fine. I've gotten used to it.

And while he is fine, the reasoning goes far beneath what he hands out for others to know. Matt may struggle with believing he is worthy of being loved and adored, but one thing he is sure of is that he doesn't owe anyone his story, and that very few deserve to hear it.

He told Karen once that he wished he could see the sky one more time in a rare moment of opening up, though he admits that he had mostly done so to earn her trust in a display of offering a vulnerability. He had hoped it would inspire an admission of her own, something to help guide him towards the next clue to the puzzle in her case, but he had been unsuccessful.

But that was neither here nor there.

The question falling from the lips he'd gladly spend every second pressed against is quiet, less probing than others who have asked, and he knows this is yet one more thing he's unable to keep from you.

Actually, the word is no longer unable, but rather unwilling, because there's not a single piece of himself that he wants to keep hidden from you. You own him, body, heart, and soul, and months ago that acceptance of ownership came with the realization that he has no desire to be anything but open and free beneath your fingertips.

A soft hand runs up his torso and settles over his heart, a quiet yet intentional moment of comfort, and you speak before he gets a chance to reply. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He shakes his head. "No, it's not that. I'm just thinking."

"Take your time, love," is all you say, and the term of endearment never fails to knock him off his feet. You are his love, but he is also yours.

With a subtle clearing of his throat, he opens his mouth to answer, not an ounce of hesitation, though the words at first seem disjointed because he's not quite sure how to say what he wants to say.

"I…yes and no," he starts softly in your ear. "There...are certain things I wish I could see at least once, or at least one more time, but for the most part, no. I don't necessarily wish that."

Sheets rustle as you push a thigh between his to press even closer. "Is it because you just have accepted it? That there's nothing you can do about it, so no use thinking about it?"

"In some ways, sure," he tells you, pointer finger drawing lazy circles on your hip. "But I was angry about it for a long time. Angry that my vision was taken from me because I tried to help someone. I felt like I had been punished by a god who only ever saw the devil in me, rather than the good I had tried to do, even as a kid. But that anger shifted the older I got, and rather than blame God, I blamed the rest of the world for all the injustices, feeling like I was doomed to do nothing but hear them. And it made me furious that everyone else had the ability to actually see these horrible things happening, and yet they did nothing."

"So…you let the devil out," you murmur against his chest, already familiar with this part of the story, having heard the explanation of what had made him snap, the final straw that broke the camel's back.

"Yes," he whispers back, knowing you held no blame or disgust associated with the sentence you had just let out. "I let the devil out."

Once upon a time he had begged Foggy to understand why he had chosen this particular path, asking him to forgive him for doing what he had thought necessary to save that little girl. He had repeated the process with Karen some time after that, but the results had been even worse the second time, the lie in their friendship and failed relationship a chasm between the two of them.

But with you…there had been no begging involved. No praying at your feet that you would understand it, understand him. The shock had been there, true, when he finally revealed himself all those months ago, laying all his cards on the table, yours to do with what you wished.

A silence had echoed between you, one that had felt like years but had only actually lasted a split second, before you picked up all the cards he had given you, tucked them in your chest for safe keeping, and responded with endless amounts of love and affection. You'd taken his hand just as easily as you'd taken his heart, told him you trusted him to do what he thought was right, and that there was not a single piece of him that you did not want and adore.

"And now? How do you feel about it now? About not being able to see?"

"I talked about this once with Maggie," he replies, recalling the conversation he'd had with her years ago underneath the church. "This idea of looking back on the past and trying to figure out if the life we led was on the right path or not. I told her about all the anger I had felt, all the hurt and betrayal. It took me a long time to realize that maybe God thought sight was unnecessary to do what needed to be done, and that I needed to go through the things I did in order to become Daredevil."

"And has that helped you? Thinking about it that way?"

"Yes," he says without hesitation, without pause. "If getting back my sight meant losing everything else, losing all the things that have helped me to help others, then it wouldn't be worth it."

"That makes sense," you whisper quietly against his chest. Your hair rubs against his skin, and Matt sighs at the contact. "You're Daredevil. Daredevil is Matt Murdock. There's no separating the two, because you're both. You wouldn't be your full self if you couldn't do what you can do."

He pulls you tighter against him. "Yes, I....that's exactly it," he says with a rush of breath that slides over your hair and skin. "I couldn't…be me without it. So, no. I don't wish I could see, not if it meant giving this up."

"And you don't feel the need to see."

Matt can't help but love the way it's a statement, and not a question.

"I don't," he says simply. "I've lived the vast majority of my life without sight, and I can live the rest without it, too. I have Foggy. I have Karen. I have our practice. And I have you. My life is complete the way it is."

Fingers trail up his chest, up his neck, and settle on his cheek. Matt instinctively leans his head into the touch, relishing the way you always manage to provide love and affection without saying a word.

He's not necessarily sensitive to the topic anymore, and certainly never could be with you, this wonderful person in his life who has filled him with warmth, a steady flame licking at his heart and spreading outwards, always finding every crack and crevice to stitch together and make whole.

He'll never be able to fully articulate the way he's never felt like home with anyone else but you, never be able to fully articulate the way you've righted the axis of his life that has not felt safe or secure since his father died.

All he can do is try.

Try to explain just how you've pulled him in like a moth to the flame, but never once tried to burn him.

"My eyes haven't worked since I was 9, but you manage to help me see, sweetheart. In a way no one else has been able to before, " he says, and the words cause your breathing to hitch. He continues without much pause. "You describe things to me without me asking. I can hear and feel everything so much, but there's always going to be things I can't pick up on, and you've filled that void for me."

Your hand twitches, curling into itself on his chest, and he doesn't waste a single second reaching up to flatten it against his heart again. "Matt." Your voice is thick with an emotion mimicking both surprise and reverence, and your heartbeat has sped up considerably.

Bending his neck lightly, he brushes his lips across your forehead. "You just naturally tell me about things going on around me, as if you had been doing it your whole life. I thought it was cute before you knew what I was capable of picking up on, but you haven't stopped. You still describe colors and facial expressions and funny signs you see when we're outside. You still tell me all about these things you notice, as if you want to make sure I don't miss a single thing, and I love you for it."

Seemingly stunned into silence, you lay cradled up against him, heart racing and skin flushed and warm. Winding his hand in your hair, Matt pulls your head back, and waits until he knows for sure your eyes have rested on his face. His smile is soft, as is the skin of your cheek when he moves his hand to stroke a thumb down your cheek, picking up a stray tear that rolled down.

He tilts his head down to kiss you, but before he can move an inch, you're pulling his mouth down towards yours with a hand of your own wrapped around the back of his neck.

He pulls away after a brief moment before he gently rolls you onto your back, parting your thighs so that he can lay between them, anxious to be pressed against you, pressed in you, in every way he can. You moan as his weight settles on top of you, though it changes to a quiet gasp when his cock slides inside, your cunt still wet from where he had finished inside you not an hour before.

He's pretty sure you're nothing but wet when you're around him, something that never fails to arouse a sharp sense of satisfaction that he makes your body react that way. It makes it easy to take you whenever he wants, your body ready for his with his name and a murmured yes on your lips.

Matt captures your mouth again with a soft kiss, and when he pulls away, even as his hips rock languidly against yours, he can't help but whisper the words that have unconsciously circled in his head for months now.

"Out of everything out there, out of everything you've told me or described to me, if I could see only one thing in the world, it would be your face when you say I do."

And with that, he laces his fingers with yours as he presses your hand into the mattress next to your head, lightly tracing over the engagement ring he had slid on to your ring finger not too long ago.

It seems that every one of your sensory sensitivities matches his in some way or another, and he can’t help but be thrilled, be calmed by it. The idea of spending the rest of his life side by side with someone he not only loves and adores and cherishes more than his own life, but someone who appreciates and understands the way that the world is just too much sometimes, someone who has helped him find peace in a way he had never thought possible, has forever changed this path that his life has always been on.

Your mouth parts in a sigh underneath his, and he spends the rest of the night using all four senses to drive you both to the edge over and over again, aware that he'll never need his sight to see how perfectly, how flawlessly you were made for him.

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #reader insert

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yuri-is-online · 2 months

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Can I request a kind of song fic? You know the song national anthem? The part where it says "red, white, blue is in the sky. Summers in the air, and baby heavens in your eyes". Can I have that with the first 3 dorms? Love your writing!

The familiar tone of cicadas and flushing greens bring about a stereotypical image of summer, and with it the reality of nearly a full year away from your world. No one has said it out loud yet, but it really does look like Twisted Wonderland is going to be your forever home, so it really is time you start thinking about what you want your future to look like...

And someone really seems to want a staring role in it.

I don't listen to Lana at all so I spent a brief moment wondering why someone was requesting I do a song fic based on the American National Anthem. Anyway I listened to the song a few times and came up with an idea, and then another, and another and I am so sorry this took forever. I hope you enjoy. notes: they/them used for Yuu, all scenarios are meant to take place over summer break, and contain a lot of summer themes. Going to the club and making out with Cater, possessive Leona, and mentioned vehicular manslaughter with Floyd. Other than that pretty tame. For other fic please look to my masterlist here.

Heartslabyul

Riddle

Riddle doesn’t know much about happiness now that he thinks about it.

He assumes he was happy when he played with Trey and Chenya all those years ago, and his mother had always been so insistent that true happiness came from doing well in his school work, and Riddle can say he gets something like happiness from his grades. But then if that is “happiness” then what is this? It doesn’t feel like it deserves quite the same word as what he feels like when he gets a good grade, and he certainly doesn’t get the same feeling of “happiness” from Trey as he does from you. There’s a sting of pain to it that compels him to smile, to stay as close to you as possible when you speak.

“I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

That was where the pain had to have come from, but you’re here with him now and he knows you won’t be going back to that great somewhere you had come from and being next to you still hurts.

“Here.” You tap your metal sparkler ignites his and you smile, wide and free in an attempt to encourage him to enjoy himself. You must have noticed how tense he is, something that doesn’t change as he tries to force his focus on the sparkler. It’s simple, short, putting out a bunch of yellow sparks that he swears it shouldn’t have the strength to. It’s a lot like him, he supposes, he holds it out and up further and watches it spark down, the burnt edges sagging under their own weight as it rages against the night sky and tries to rival the stars. “Are you going to draw anything?”

“Huh?” He’s supposed to be having fun. Are you disappointed in him? No, you seem to have expected this, you're reaching for new sparklers and fumbling looking for something.

“If you twirl the sparkler through the air it’ll leave light behind. It looks like drawing shapes.” You take the risk of nodding towards Ace and Deuce, who he thinks are trying to draw their card suits from how Ace is pointing and Deuce’s face and laughing at the brief flicker of a spade he thinks he sees. “It won’t stay for long but it’s still fun.” A lighter, he recognizes the click before he turns back around to you and sees you fumbling with it. Your hands must be cold, he can’t be happy with that but the strange feeling surges and compels him forward with the gentlest of fires he’s ever conjured.

“You’re the expert, so I’ll trust your advice.” You jump slightly with the sparks and laughter, saying something he doesn’t hear as he takes his sparkler and joins you in drawing little hearts in the air. It has to be a silly thing he’s said for you to laugh so much, but he means it so. If he lets you point out the fun things, he thinks as you toss your second set of spent sparklers into the bucket of water and hold out the next for him to light, he can busy himself with the practical. And maybe together you can both learn to enjoy that thing called happiness you both don’t know much about.

Trey

“Don’t you think you are being unfair?” The words come out even though it has got to be pointless to say it; Trey has to know why else would his smile be so “strained,” why else would he be so determined to keep from making eye contact? And furthermore he has to know you know, that’s why he is standing so close to you despite this new no eye contact rule.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He continues looping icing in detailed patterns across a particularly complicated cake that you have to stop and stare at in wonder, could you ever get that good? Trey must have a great deal of patience to do such technical work, shame he has also decided to use that skill to test yours. You huff and look at your own work, Trey has to know you’ve been looking at him, people can feel the weight of other’s eyes right? Let’s see how he functions without your attention.

Fine, you assume he’ll be fine, he’s always so unbothered by anything you do. Cater has always insisted otherwise, but you swear he’s uncaring too.

“Maybe you should intern at a cake shop.” You do your best to mimic his voice and he chokes on his laugh, it takes a great deal of strength and perhaps patience that rivals Trey’s own to not turn and look. His laugh is so genuine you could mistake it for joy. “That’s what you said.”

“I did, didn't I? Good advice that.” His voice is a bit closer now, you try not to think about how that’s possible, you were already working so close to one another how could he get even closer without touching you? Why do you want him to touch you…

“Why didn’t you just invite me here?” That has got to sound more pathetic than it does biting, it certainly feels that way. “I applied to three separate places, and before I even completed the first line on your little questionnaire I got a call back from them congratulating me on getting hired here.” Trey doesn’t so much as flinch, you see him in the corner of your eye, pretending to adjust his glasses and inspect your work.

“Maybe I wanted some plausible deniability.” He’s so sincere you finally look at him and only sort of regret it when you see his triumphant smile. “But someone got a bit too excited about a friend from NRC finally visiting and chased everyone else off.” You snort.

“I can’t imagine Cater’s never wanted to come here, what with how he talked it up so much.”

“He has mentioned it once or twice.” Trey adjusts a strawberry on a cupcake next to you, out of nerves more than need as he wonders over how to word what he wants to stay next. “But I am glad you decided to come. I was worried you would say no.” You snort and Trey laughs slightly as he watches you squirm in indignance and tries not to focus on your lower lip’s quiver.

“Why on earth would I say no? I’ve been curious about this place since forever.” There’s flour on your apron he wants to smear on your face as an excuse to touch you and ignore the aching annoyance in his chest. I don’t want you to be curious about the shop, everyone is. I want you to be curious about me.

“Well there are more interesting ways to spend your summer than next to an oven.” He says it nonchalantly as his thumb lingers on your nose just a bit longer than it should and your annoyance fades in place of something he doesn’t know but wants to oh so badly.

“Well maybe I just didn’t have anything better to do.” He loves how pretend annoyed you get with him, the way your nose twitches and your eyes dart to look anywhere but him. “And maybe I’ll not have anything better to do this winter or next summer either.” He loves the security he has to indulge in those little things, even if you can’t ever go back to your old home.

“Oh? That’s a real shame.” He finally moves his thumb down your cheek and curls his fingers just under your chin to force you to look at him, to beg you to see a new possibility in his eyes. “I can fix that.”

Cater

Cater inviting you places wasn’t a new thing, but you had really expected it to become an old one once he hit his fourth year and didn’t constantly see you irl and have to pretend he was as invested in your friendship as you were. Was that a cruel thing to think? Sure. Did you hate yourself for it? Absolutely. Was it partially a product of your overwhelming fear of the consequences of opening up to someone with abandonment issues when you were all but guaranteed to permanently abandon him in a way that was so much worse than any of his previous friends?

Well now you were just being way too serious for the type of trip you were currently on. You’ve never seen so many flashing lights outside of a nightmare but Cater certainly looks like he’s having the time of his life on the dance floor with Lilia and Kalim while you sit next to Trey being “boring” in the corner. Not that you shouldn’t be at the club, you've just got a lot on your mind and no place to think it.

“You don’t have to sit here with me if you want to.” You apologize and Trey laughs, surprisingly not at all awkward.

“I’d make a total fool of myself, and I don’t want to end up on magicam being called someone’s dad. Again.” He swirls his drink in his hand and you look down at yours; you’re at a beach if you didn’t remember because of the stray sand in your shoes you would know by the little umbrella in your cup and the cheekily unbuttoned hawaiian shirt that displays the beads around Cater’s neck as he makes sure to fill your entire vision and steal your breath.

“Yuuuuu, c’mon dance with me.” He grabs both your hands in his, intertwining your fingers and pulling out to the floor with the force of his voice as much as his grip. “Can’t let you stay in the corner allll night, I’d be a bad senior!” You think you hear Kalim and Lilia say something to Trey, but Cater’s so close to you, you can’t really hear anything, not even the music or the last call from the bar that sends you and your friends into the street stumbling back towards the hotel Kalim had insisted on booking. “They’re certainly having fun.” Cater hasn’t let go of your hand, thumb circling your palm before finally resting nearby your pulse point. “Sort of a shame to call it quits now.” So he says but you can see the night’s been getting to him.

“If you need a break I don’t think anyone will blame you.” You squeeze his hand and a little of Cay Cay’s smile returns to Cater’s face as he squeezes back. “Do you want me to let you sleep when we get back to the rooms?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Those serious thoughts from before bring you back to reality and you finally see how far behind you’ve lagged from the rest of your group.

“I want to hear your voice.” The dull fear of abandonment snakes through you both and coaxes out Cater’s words he’d probably wouldn’t have ever said if you weren’t staying and he was completely sober. It hitches in your breath as he looks at you, Cater’s real unguarded smile on his face as he lets the boardwalk lights shade him in their perfectly imperfect artificial shine. “I want to hear you say we’re besties out loud again, I want it to be real. Because I’m mad I screwed things up before thinking you’d be gone when you’re so desperately real.” You wave the others on ahead, they shake their heads with knowing looks as you stop and lean into Cater, pressing your foreheads together and staring deep into each other’s eyes searching for something neither wants to admit was always there. “You don’t deserve to be stuck here.”

“You don’t deserve to be stuck in your own head.” He flinches and you reach to touch his cheek, could you kiss him here? Would that be moving too fast? “I’ll be just fine, Cater.”

“But I want to keep you stuck here with me.” He mumbles, and makes the move to kiss for you. Your arms move around his neck and your hands thread through his hair, pulling him close as he never dared to be.

You’ve got all sorts of things you want to say out loud, just for him to hear.

Ace

“It’s so hot.” Whines Grim, his bright smirk completely betraying his intent as you try not to sigh too loudly as you look over the prices at this ice cream stand Ace had convinced you to check out. “I reeeeeally wish we had an ice cream sundae right now, don’t you hench human?”

“You already had half a watermelon earlier,” you mutter “if I get you a whole sundae you might get sick.” He won’t. Grim almost never gets sick. You’ve seen him eat and rank literal dirt. But still you already are going to be carrying back the groceries Ace’s mom asked for and didn’t need something difficult to carry. Thankfully there always seems to be something for cats in the Queendom of Roses because the seller helpfully pipes up that he has a tuna flavored push pop that Grim immediately begs for instead.

You consider getting the same one for Ace, but his childish joy when you pass him a cherry popsicle before opening your own is almost worth the missed joke. “Aww nice, about time you paid me back for everything I do for you.” Almost. You roll your eyes and take your share of the grocery bags, half heartedly fighting for Ace to let you take more of them. He won’t let you, nodding towards Grim in way of an excuse as if the little monster ever lets you take his paw. He’s been doing a lot of things like that while you’ve been staying with his family, it’s actually been sort of nice. There has been a sort of domestic give and take between you two for a long time now that you think about it, probably since the first time he tried to sneak his way into your bed, that has translated into something like a routine. His family has been nice enough not to say anything about it but you know they see it too. “Hey you have work tomorrow right?”

“Yeah.” You try to blink your way back to a more normal state of mind. “Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

“Nah I’ll just text you if I think of something when I’m on my way to pick you up.” Ace says it so nonchalantly you have to wonder what old Ace would say. The one who made fun of you for not having magic and ditched a girlfriend without saying anything for being boring, or did you never actually know that guy and got lucky enough to meet the ace of hearts instead?

“Ya don’t always gotta walk them.” Grim snorts, unimpressed as always in a way that never fails to make you smile. “Yuu isn’t gonna disappear! Headmage said they were here to stay.” Ace rolls his eyes and you laugh. For some reason he never fails to take bait from Grim.

“That’s not what it’s about, dummy, walking alone is dangerous.”

“Yeah Grim,” you teasingly scratch his little head “besides the only one who isn’t going to be around forever is Ace.”

“Do you really think I won’t be around forever?” Ace actually looks offended, sounds it too and you find yourself indignant.

“You’ve got to have a life eventually.” You shrug. “Deuce and me, school, that doesn’t last forever.” “You can be a part of that life too you know?!” It’s not the closest to a confession you’ve ever gotten from Ace, but it’s certainly the loudest. “Look, I get you’ve got a lot going on in your mind right now, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’ll sit outside that door waiting for you to be ready, and I’ll still be there even if that day never comes. If you’re really in trouble I’ll bust down that door, just because you’re forced to be here doesn’t mean you’re alone.” You wait. You wait for the back track, the joke, the step back into the comfort of the friend zone but it doesn’t come. He looks you in your eyes and keeps walking forward towards home. “You have me, you know?” You’ve always had me.

Deuce

Sometimes you forget how abnormal Deuce is. Probably because it’s a normal sort of abnormality, if any such thing exists, that doesn’t involve magic or monsters and you would have been able to wrap your mind around no matter what time and place you had met in. But that doesn’t mean Deuce is not capable of doing or saying things that surprise you.

“Let’s make a pillow fort.” He says, the familiarity of his joy the only thing that’s keeping you from screaming about his words. “I’ve never made one before, it’ll be fun!”

“Oh I refuse to believe that.” You laugh but refuse to protest, Ace isn’t here to bring down the mood and there’s no way Grim would deny something that he thinks is guaranteed to involve popcorn from the few times you’ve camped out in the Ramshackle Lounge and watched TV together. And to be fair that’s also your plan for tonight, Deuce has a bunch of movies he’s been determined to show you since you agreed to stay over for the Summer.

“Well maybe back when I was a kid with my mom.” He certainly has enough blankets for it, but then what self respecting house doesn’t have a few extras? “I’ve never had a friend stay over before…” If you were in a different mood, if his flushed face wasn’t so cute, you might tease about how you had been here before with Epel, Ortho, and Silver but there’s a tone to the way he says friend. It’s the way he makes sure to lie as close to you as possible in your little fort and watches you as much as the movie that tells you that he feels, even if he doesn’t think, that this is somehow different. “Have you?” He asks it late, as the credits roll on your third or fourth movie and Grim snores. “I thought maybe we could do something normal for once, but I forgot to ask.” You laugh and roll your head onto his shoulder and allow yourself to really think about things.

“Thank you.” It’s the first thought you have, surprising you both. But should it? There’s something warm and comforting about being with Deuce. Natural even. “I can’t say I’m happy but I feel closer to home than I have in a while.” Deuce squeezes your hand and rests his head on top of yours.

“I’m glad. I- know I shouldn’t be but I am sort of happy you’re still here.” He wants to say he’s happy you are staying, but he knows he can’t. It would be too cruel and Deuce knows he can’t really understand the depth of what you’ve lost or make up for it with sleep overs or movie nights. But he does so want to try. “I promise I’ll do my best to make your time here worth it, I meant what I said during Starsending. I want you to be there when I get my badge, I want to make you proud of me too.”

“I’d say I’ll be the loudest in the room but I’ve met your mom.” You sleepily quip and he laughs. “And I’m already proud of you, Deucey.” His half open mouth freezes, his thanks stuck in the softness of your voice as he wills himself to sleep to sear the sound into his brain.

“Sweet dreams, Yuu.” He’ll make this a summer worth having, he swears it.

Savanaclaw

Leona

“You cannot have driven me out here just to nap.” Leona’s head is heavy and warm in your lap in stark contrast to the cool greenery that shades you from the rest of the palace.

“Can’t I?” He opens his eyes to look up at you with a gleam that’s just so smug it makes your heart flutter in what you have to work very hard to convince yourself is annoyance. “Because I could have sworn I just did.”

You aren’t sure why Leona invited you. That one time you had visited the Savannah before had been because Grim demanded, not because he wanted you there. Or at least that’s what you had thought but this time you had received an invitation, and though it had been worded more like a demand (must be a cat thing) it had been surprisingly thoughtful in its accommodations. Grim certainly had been happy enough to accept on your behalf even before Crowley had agreed to let you go.

“I’m just surprised you would want anyone with you to nap at all.” You had been afraid to touch him when you saw him, but you swear he wants you to play with his hair with how he purposely spreads it out, like he’s displaying for you. “I thought you’d be happy to be rid of me.”

“Maybe I would have been.” His bluntness is only dulled by its predictability, there’s something almost relieving about it if you’re honest. Everyone has been so insistent on saying they are happy you have stayed and just as eager to avoid talking about the specifics that worry you. Not Leona, he keeps his green eyes focused on you, striking right at the heart of things. “But you aren’t half as annoying as everyone else, even if you could stand to fight for yourself a bit more. Why do you think I invited you here anyway?”

“...so your family wouldn’t bother you about your duties?” He laughs, loud and free and so forceful he shakes your entire body with its pride.

“Well you’re half right.” He reaches up and pulls you down, rolling to the side so you’re lying in the bit of ground he’s warmed and caged in the safety of his arms with nowhere to run from the obvious truth. “You’re here because I want you to be.” The way he says it, the touch of his forehead against yours and the lull of his heartbeat, it’s like he’s daring you to think of your entire existence in Twisted Wonderland in terms of him and him alone. And he knows it, he has to he’s too smart to word his sayings in a way that would misconstrue his meaning. “What’s that shit you herbivores are always yammering on about? ‘Finding your family?’ Well I found you so you’re going to stay right?”

“Are you offering me citizenship, your majesty?” Because you have to make this a bit of a joke otherwise you’ll let him in on just how much power over you he really has.

“I’m offering you a home.” He’s surprisingly serious. “It’s dark, a bit shit, but you already like those sorts of places if your dorm is anything to go by. And you’re so annoyingly sunny I’m sure it’ll perk right up when you settle yourself in.” Just like he does as you move to hide your face in his chest, your breaths matching in the safe lull of slumber under the jungle’s starry sky.

Ruggie

“Man, I love Summer! People are just so much freer with their cash, y’know shishishishi.” Ruggie cackles as he settles himself into a booth, still somehow full of energy despite the day you’ve both had while you slump across from him. “Peak tourism season means loads of opportunities for work!”

“I know Leona said this place was popular but I guess I didn’t realize just how much.” Ruggie had been so proud to show you this barbeque place after your first night working at the resort with him, and you had been more than happy to know it on nights like this when you had worked overtime meeting some really pushy customers' needs for what felt like way too little money. Even though this gig paid pretty well some people just weren’t worth shit, something Ruggie knows all too well.

“Yeah, nothing on Sage’s Island ever gets this busy. You holding up ok?” Ruggie’s always like this while he’s on the job, you try to tell yourself he doesn’t mean too much by it, that he’s just checking up on you from a place of mutual understanding but it still feels good. Good enough that the smile you manage is genuine.

“Surprisingly, yeah.” You could really do with some more sleep than you are going to get when you return to Grim tonight, but then you always could. “What about you? You always look twice as busy as me and that’s saying something.”

“Aww, you worried about little old me? Kiiinda weird Yuu! I’m the senior here, I'm more used to this.” He’s the same smug Ruggie, brimming with enough confidence and infectious determination that perks you up just a bit. Or maybe it’s the fact your food’s come and you are determined to snatch up the utensils and cook before Ruggie can and use it as an excuse to keep all the best cuts for himself. He doesn’t jump to fight you tonight though, instead he looks contemplative. “Hey, are you sure you’re ok with how you spent your Summer?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The meat sizzles on the grill, dampening the seriousness of the conversation with its pops, and Ruggie tries to focus on it but it’s clear he has been thinking about this for a while.

“Well, my invitation was kinda late. I was really surprised you didn’t want to spend your Summer hanging out with your friends.” You don’t say anything immediately, wondering how best to respond to someone who, admittedly, has never really admitted to being your friend despite you both regularly flirting with that and a much deeper concept.

“I mean I do.” It’s best to be honest with him, he won’t accept anything else even if it hurts to see you refuse to look at him as you flip the meat to cook its other side and continue thinking out loud. “But I’m going to be stuck here forever, I want to get a head start on some security. I can’t live in Ramshackle forever. And besides…” It’s best to be honest with him, you reassure yourself as you take a deep breath and give him the cut you know he’ll like best and stare deep into his eyes. “I was happy to hear from you and get a chance to see you again sooner.” His ears twitch and his eyes widen, words fumble out of his mouth without any real meaning as you both silently agree to table the conversation and eat your meal. The best meals aren’t rushed, and the best connections allow themselves the time they need to grow. You know you’ll both be ok, you promise yourself you will make sure of it.

Jack

“Jack, what is this thing again?” You ask slightly exasperated, not with the product or with him, just yourself for still not remembering the types of snack foods available in a basic convenience store after a whole school year in this world. For once, Jack doesn’t complain or pretend he doesn’t want to help, just dutifully walks over and looks at the package before putting it back on the shelf.

“It’s a type of chip, you liked this flavor better.” He adds it to his basket and you sigh, mutter an apology Jack doesn’t acknowledge verbally, instead touching your thigh gently with his tail. “Is there anything else you want to bring back to Sage’s Island with you? If you don’t remember until you get back…” I won’t send it to you. That’s what he wants to say, but he cuts himself off before he can. He can see your mind auto filling it in as you think, and he curses himself silently. What a fool he’d been, “I won’t need to do that I’ll just know” he hadn’t counted on lying to himself about how he felt. His mother had, she’d even laughed about it when he had tried to stumble around asking to let you visit.

“A soulmate is something you work for, Jack. It’s not given to you, you have to earn it.”

Jack likes to think he works hard. His grades are good, he’s in great shape, his unique magic is truly a gift and he isn’t taking it for granted but you. You’ve got two separate drinks held up to the light, neither of them are exclusive to the Shaftlands. You could get them at Sam’s any time but you are squinting as if you have truly never seen them before and he guesses that’s because it’s true. Why is it so hard to just speak to you? Is it because you're human?

“If you want something limited, those are over here.” He takes what you were looking at anyway. “My sister really likes this one.” I think you will too, it’s a lot like what you get from the vending machines. You nod and add it to the basket, turning towards the canned goods and insisting on getting some “fancy” tuna for Grim with a smile that stirs his soul and reassures him of what Jack knows is true even if he can’t speak about it.

“You think he’d notice even if it was different?” You are shaking your head as you look at the can, making jokes but not bothering to pretend you don’t care. It’s maddening, how bright you shine for those you care about and how little he can do to give that shine back to you.

“You can’t tell him how much it costs, otherwise he will insist it is.” That works, you laugh and his tail goes crazy, unable to hide how important your laughter is to him. I love you. That’s what he wants to say. “You should come back next summer.” But he doesn’t, he rubs his neck and looks at the shelves and thinks it so loud he swears his heart is halfway out of his chest. There’s a soft look in your eyes that he wants to think says you hear it, but he knows that he can’t take it as an excuse. Next summer I’ll say it. I’ll say it every day that you’re here, I promise. Your smile is everything he needs.

“I look forward to it.”

Octavinelle

Azul

There’s a picture on your phone you don’t think you were meant to see, but magicam lets you delete photos and Azul hasn’t done that yet. It’s been an hour, the little opened notification sits there taunting you both but still he doesn’t do anything. Not send a follow up message or delete the photo or anything and FINALLY you’ve had enough so you do something beyond reckless.

You call him. And he answers.

“Prefect! Always a pleasure to hear from you.” Azul sounds so infuriatingly put together you want to die. You bet he’s sat in some sort of fancy office, leaning back with a smug look on his face while you hug a pillow close to your chest, still in your pajamas seething with nerves over his little mistake. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Did you mean to send me a picture of your menu for orientation?” You cringe at how upset you sound, because you really aren’t exactly. It’s silly to hope Azul would talk to you over the summer at all, and if he did of course it would be about business. That’s what talking with Azul is always about. “Oh and hello I guess.” But it still pays to be polite if for no other reason than the melodic laughter that you get to hear at what you're sure Azul sees as a cute mistake.

“I would have called you if I hadn’t.” He sounds like he is reassuring a child, but still pauses to keep you off your game before he continues. “I was expecting you to give your opinions on it, you have to have some don’t you?”

“Not for free.” You snort and he laughs again, slightly more awkwardly this time and you wish you could say that you didn’t feel bad, that you were as cold and calculated as the sea but neither of you are really. It isn’t wrong to want something is it? Azul is pro-greed, so surely he would understand you teasing him a bit to keep him in your life for just a bit longer. “Do you need my opinion for something?”

“Just to hear it.” Azul has a way of being so damnably dismissive about things it drives you insane. Just once you want to hear him say- “Besides, it’s been a while since we talked and I thought it would be a good ice breaker.” You choke on your own thoughts and almost break your jaw trying to keep him from hearing. “You’ll be there I trust?”

“Orientation?” Your throat hurts and it shows in your voice, that stupid octopus has got to be so smug right now it would be so insufferable to look at. You definitely aren’t thinking about it and it definitely isn’t making your struggle to breathe worse. “Or the Lounge? Because it’s not like I’ll have anything to do really if you want help or something… I am sort of curious about those house themed drinks, that's a stupid good idea for an orientation by the way.”

“I knew you’d get it!” Azul sounds so excited it’s almost pure. “You’ll have to come by beforehand so I can show you how to make them, it took so much time to get the correct flavor pallet for the Savanaclaw and Ignihyde ones you have no idea-”

And just like that he has you, he has you! You’re listening and talking to him through all of his explanations, probably sitting somewhere under a tree well put together with Grim on your lap and… smiling he hopes? While he is curled into a small ball in his room trying to pretend he knew this would work out exactly like he wanted the whole time.

You’ll be there. When the bell strikes and the mirror opens its gaze on NRC once again he won’t have to be nostalgic for flames and mayhem because you will be there. And this time he swears he’ll catch you for good.

Jade

It’s the last day of school and yet you have nothing to pack and nothing to do. The usual excitement that accompanies the final freedom of summer is sort of lost in that void of being unable to go home, and as ashamed as you are to admit it you think you’ll go crazy if you don’t have anywhere to go next summer. You already felt so overwhelmingly lonely when you first got the news, and you have heard these things get better but it doesn’t feel like it will. Even the knock at your door fills you with dread, you don’t want to ruin Ace and Deuce’s excitement with your bad mood. But that’s not what you see when you open your door.

“Hello prefect.” Jade Leech is tall, so tall he fills up the frame with his stiff figure that you always have noticed for how proper it is but today he seems even more rigid than usual. Guarded is the word you would use if you could ever picture him being afraid of you. “May I come in?” You nod and shut the door behind you both, your idle curiosity drowning out the danger signs as neither of you move or speak. Jade’s hands stay folded in front of him, yours stay at your sides as you wait. Wait wait wait for what you don’t know, hadn’t the twins told you they visited their parents over this break? His mother sounded lovely, why would he want to keep her waiting? “I was wondering…” He closes his eyes and brings his hand up to his chin as if he is deep in thought but it reads more like it is taking a lot out of him to say what he wants to “Would you be interested in climbing Mount Moln with me sometime?” Your breath catches in your throat, the memories of your trip to Harveston still somewhat fresh and inviting in their domesticity. You hadn’t thought he would remember that little conversation you’d had, but he does. His wide smile when he opens his eyes to see your fluster screams it’s haunted his dreams as much as it has yours. “I do seem to recall you expressed a desire to climb it, and since you will be staying with us for the foreseeable future I thought I would take my chance on the proposal.” Did he have to word it like that? It’s doing things to your heart.

“I did say that, didn't I?” You try to center yourself by closing your eyes, it’s always a bad thing to appear desperate around him but your mind insists on remembering. The feel of the snow, the smell of the woods and the bonfires, and of Jade whether he would believe you or not. Of the excitement in his voice when he named all the plants he knew, of the funny look on his face when his sled misbehaved, so passive as if it was happening to someone else and not him. And of the shiver of excitement at his ideas on how to sabotage the other team, whispered quietly in your ear so as not to alert Epel in an effort to convince you of his position. Or maybe now that you look at him he just wanted the excuse to be close. “Yes. Yes. I would like that very much.” Jade’s smile stretches to something as dangerous as it is thrilling as he takes his long desired excuse and closes the gap. “I will see you next week then. Make sure to pack your things.” You splutter and he takes a deep breath to savor the look as he traces your cheek and takes your weak protests in stride. He never did say you would be going to Mount Moln this summer, you need to train after all. Jade Leech intends to take his time with you, assuming you’ll let him of course.

Floyd

“Hehe Floyd and shrimpy, drivin to the beeeeach. What’ll they do?”

“Stay in their lane and watch the road.” Crewel has to have added a “fuck” in there that he didn’t voice if his death grip on the car’s grab handle is anything to go by, and if you are honest you wish he had, it would make this whole experience much more bearable. You have opted to hold Grim instead, prayer was also an option but that wouldn’t keep Grim from trying to harass Floyd. He’s laughing now, saying something to Professor Crewel you can’t quite place, maybe adding a new verse to his little song that admittedly sounds kind of catchy. Floyd has a very nice voice you swear he only ever uses to make fun of people, not that you could see him ever doing anything with it since that would take too much repetitive work. “Pull off the exit here and make sure to park WITHIN the lines this time.” Crewel snaps and you find yourself finally at a merciful stop, and unable to free yourself and Grim from your seatbelts fast enough under the guise of “getting your things” from the trunk.

You aren’t fast enough to avoid Floyd. He’s there as soon as you open the trunk, tell tale smirk on his face.

“Well shrimpy? I’m waitin’” He��s giggling, the only thing that’s keeping him from kicking his feet is their need to be on solid ground to keep him upright.

“You suck.” You say completely deadpan without a hint of irony. “Congratulations I didn’t know anybody could do it that bad. Why did you want to try learning to drive again? They don’t have cars under the sea do they?” Floyd seems amused by your attempt to steam past your little insults, choosing to ignore them for now and shrug as he takes the umbrellas out of the car and closes it.

“It seemed fun. Beakerfish is always goin on about ‘em and Pops says they get stupid expensive. Why’s that huh? You humans sure do like buying shit just to break it.” He doesn’t move immediately, like he’s waiting for something and determined to block your way until he gets it. So you take a deep breath and lie to yourself that it’s just this one answer.

“Floyd, most people don’t wreck their cars on purpose.” It should be the most obvious thing in the world, but still he doesn’t move. His smile gets wider and his eyes blaze with determined focus, for some reason he gets closer to you, one hand resting above you on the car to loosely cage you against it. He has to know what he’s doing here too, Floyd’s a lot but he’s not stupid. “Aww really, shrimpy? There’s so many movies and games ‘bout it you’d think that’s the whole point of havin’ em.” He giggles exactly like he does before moving in with a squeeze, bending to whisper in your ear as if Crewel isn’t just on the other side of the vehicle still holding that damn crop and just looking for an excuse to strike. “That’s not all they do in the movies though, huh Yuu? Maybe I wanna take you someplace nice,quiet, and all alone for once~” And just like he’s gone, back to bothering your professor who you know is chastising himself for agreeing to chaperone this trip while you try desperately to catch your breath.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #i feel like if you too trey to the club he'd be doing those white dad dances #just breaking it down to whatever the twst equivalent of pour some sugar on me is and still somehow doing numbers because what is a club fo #if not remembering you have daddy issues #... also idk i can see floyd being into the burnout games or a demo derby #he likes breaking shit he'd probably think that;s fun

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