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banggyu0308 · 10 months

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genre: internet strangers to lovers, idol au, smut

warnings: nsfw under the cut, not very coherent, slutty yeonjun, dom!yeonjun, sexting, choking kink, pet names (baby), praise, drinking (they don't get THAT drunk, alright guys?), one night stand-ish, degradation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, handholding, cursing, dacryphilia, yeonjun lurks on social media TT, reader is bold ASF, not proofread

wc: 2.5k+

an: tysm for the username help @itgirlgyu TT + this is just for the delulus + @beomsl MEL YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE TALKED ABT PART OF THIS???? + i might title this later but who knows!!

taglist: @full-sunnies , @agustdiv1ne

yeonjun who likes to wear his tank tops to show off, loves heading onto moa twitter and tumblr after lives just to see the fandom having a meltdown... especially hard stan social media, watching all the comments and photos of himself show up. he likes being in control like this, having the power to make everyone else go crazy just by wearing something else that day.

he scrolls and scrolls and one specific post pops up, it's community labeled and when he clicks 'keep reading', he can see why; pretty tits on display from the original poster, comments in the tags all about how she's all his, and he's not very surprised to feel himself growing hard in his pants. yeonjun eyes the username, ready to click the blue-fonted 'follow' button, but it's already gone, and his eyes widen to see that it's an account he's been following and interacting with for a while. that fact only makes it better, and he's clicking to his chat with you before he can even think it through what he's about to do.

yawnchoi you look really pretty in that new post...

yn what can i say? yeonjun brings out a special part of me 😭

yawnchoi im very sure he feels the exact same

yn in my dreams 😭 don't fuel my deluluness

yawnchoi i'm being very serious right now

yn mhm mhm sureeee and how would YOU know? 😑

yawnchoi ajksdbwsjdhbw maybe this wasn't a good idea

yn WHAT wasn't a good idea, hm? 🤨

yawnchoi baby all i'm trying to do is figure out how to word that i'm yeonjun 😭

yn i do not believe you for one moment

yawnchoi i'll send a pic that i would never, ever post and you can even reverse image search it or whatever or i could send a video, im not messing around baby

yn go ahead then ;-;

yawnchoi [sent a photo]

yn alright so yeonjun would definitely never post a photo of him in his boxers in bed so imma need that video 🙏

yawnchoi [sent a video]

yn oh. oh holy shit choi yeonjun has seen my tits- NOT ONLY HAS HE SEEN MY TITS HE LIKES THEM- one sec imma need to process haha im totally not hyperventilating haha

yn alright im back hi haha

yawnchoi helloooo 👋

yn wow. alright. so. uh. how do i ask this- you wanna see more tit pics?

yawnchoi THAT WAS SO BOLD HELP ME- but yes pleaseeee

yn [sent a photo]

yawnchoi oh baby- holy shit you're so pretty 🥺

yn thanks jjunie kwsnbdwjkd im still like- going crazy rn yawnchoi thats cute baby :((

yn wjhbswhjdhj so- since you've seen my tits i wanna see you again :(( preferably your dick but haha

yawnchoi yeah? pretty baby wants to see my dick?

yn kjwbshwjdbhe yes please?

yawnchoi asking so nicely... alright baby~ [sent a photo]

yn oh 😳 oh fuck alright sjbdsewjh wanna touch :((

yawnchoi me or yourself, baby?

yn well, both, but only one can happen, right? so me-

yawnchoi go ahead, can i see? yn alright 😳 [sent a video]

yawnchoi baby's so pretty :(( wanna see you cum for me <3

yn [sent a video] would be better if you were here :( want you to touch me so bad wjbwjhdbe

yawnchoi can fly you into korea if you want...

yn YOU'RE KISSING *KIDDING

yawnchoi i'm notttttttt dekjbdekj pretty cunt's got me all horny :((

yn i don't even care if it's a one night stand choi fucking yeonjun's gonna fly me out to korea to fuck me heck yeah

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

and he does. books a flight last minute for the next day, from your country to seoul, puts on a pair of sunglasses and his least conspicuous outfit, and drives to the airport. he isn't THAT nervous- it's not like he thinks you're gonna murder him.

and when you walk out of the airport building with nothing but a backpack with you, looking around and waving slightly when you see him, his heart quickens just a little. (and NOT just because he's seen you naked).

you decide to sit in the back of his car for no reason other than you want to, and maybe a little bit because you can't exactly handle looking at him straight on quite yet.

to your surprise, there's no awkward small talk, just him getting straight to the point and saying all the members are out of the dorm currently, but, ever the gentleman, he says since you flew a long way, you can sleep a little bit first and he won't bother you.

your whole body is on alert and you find yourself thinking that there's no way you'd be able to sleep now. it's one thing to sext someone knowing they're an idol- another to actually be in the car with them, on your way to where they live, and knowing you're going to actually fuck them.

yeonjun politely takes your bag when you get out of the car, and when his fingers wrap around the strap, his hand brushes yours slightly. you internally feel like you might faint- you hadn't actually prepared yourself for this, and now he was touching you and he feels real and you knew he was real but now it just feels extra.

holding your bag, he opens the door to the dorm, leading you in before following, taking you into his room and placing your bag down on the floor next to his bed. every single action that takes him closer to you makes your face grow hot, the bed dipping slightly under your weight when you sit down. the sheets are soft, but your mind barely registers it, focusing instead on the fact that you are in yeonjun's bed.

he opens his mouth to say something, and you panic, cutting him off quickly with a wry grin and a statement. "i might need some alcohol in my system before we do anything else."

yeonjun raises his eyebrows in the slightest, a little surprised, but he also gets it. he's pretty sure both his body and his mind want you way too much right now, but he's so nervous he might not do anything. his hands are twisted in his lap and he quickly realizes and sits on them instead before standing.

he leads you to the kitchen, getting himself a can of beer and letting you pour yourself a couple shots of vodka. you know your limits- it's just enough for you to get a little tipsy and stop overthinking everything.

knocking one back, you enjoy the burn in your throat before taking the second. the slight buzz under your skin makes you smile slightly, leaning against the counter while he takes long sips of his own drink. it's obvious he wants this to pick up, so you busy yourself messing with his shirt just a little while he drinks. you slip your fingers under his sleeve, mindlessly rubbing your fingertips back and forth over his skin. you can tell he remembered your comments the previous day about his arms, basing his outfit around that.

he has another tank top on today, arms flexing when he brings the can to his lips to take another sip, and you move your hands a little farther down to rest on his chest. this time, when he lowers the can, his lips are a little wet from the drink and you can't help but press a messy kiss to them, licking the liquid off. yeonjun lets out a slight hiss when your tongues meet, left hand reaching behind him to place the can on the counter.

the alcohol must really be working already because you're both stumbling to his room, messily tugging each other's clothes off, and yeonjun leaves a line of wet hickeys up your neck. each and every touch of his skin on yours makes you feel fire burn a trail across your body, but it's in a way that makes you almost absolutely sure that it's not just because he's one of your celebrity crushes, or because you're a little drunk.

yeonjun's movements are so rushed that in seconds he's on top of you, his own shirt off, pants quick to follow once you tug at them. your hands find way to his newly-lightened hair when his lips and tongue meet yours again, a different kind of intoxication weaving itself up and over each of your limbs, the kind of intoxication that makes you want to live and breathe this man.

"want you," he whispers, cheeks pink from the alcohol, his eyes slightly glazed when he looks into yours, and the way he says it makes your cheeks grow hot again.

"go ahead then, 'm all yours," you exhale in response, trying to ignore the way your heart twinges at your own words. this is just a one time thing, you have to remind yourself.

but yeonjun's eyes light up and he presses another kiss to your lower lip, one hand moving between your legs to part them. his eyes lower to your cunt, and you can feel the way your underwear are sticking to your pussy. you'd chosen to wear white underwear today and you're pretty sure they're see-through by now, drenched completely from all the feelings yeonjun's touch is sending through you.

"all mine?" yeonjun mumbles, eyes wide. and when you nod, he smirks slightly. "love your cunt so much, i might just take you right now." your own eyes widen and yeonjun can feel your breath hitch. "but you'd like that, wouldn't you? pretty slut would love her jjunie taking her raw, would love to have me cum inside..."

you suck in a breath through your teeth at his words, nodding quickly, spread out on the bed beneath him. your mouth tastes like alcohol and yeonjun, and your brain tries to forget how he so flippantly called himself your jjunie.

"jjun, just, just fuck me, please?" you whimper out when he rubs a fingertip over your clothed cunt.

"baby asked so nicely, might as well give her what she wants," he coos, tugging off his boxers only once he slides your underwear down your legs. "promise you'll let me taste you next time?"

you nod, too distracted by the fact that he's already planning a 'next time' in his head to realize that he wants to eat you out, but by the time you understand, he has the tip of his cock pressed to your entrance, other hand holding yours as he slowly pushes in. the gesture feels sweet, romantic even, and you let your eyes fall shut when he pauses his movements.

yeonjun's body is pressed flush to yours in a way that allows him to brush his fingers over your neck, skin smooth against you. his hand wraps loosely around your neck and his breath is hot on your cheek when he whispers, "is this okay?"

you nod once more, only because the combination of the alcohol and his body on you is making your brain so fuzzy you can't think clear enough to speak. yeonjun hums lightly and experiments with his grip, making you gasp a little when he also hits your g-spot. he lets out a hiss when your already-tight walls tighten further around him.

he'd had a feeling that you'd feel like heaven around him, just because of the fact you had stated you were only able to fit two fingers inside yourself, but he had obviously underestimated all the sensations that were going to overwhelm him like they are now. every movement of his hips towards yours makes him fight to control the tremble of his body. your hand is linked with the one he doesn't have around your neck and every time he buries himself completely inside you, your hand tightens just a little around his.

he's losing himself just a little, hand still laced with yours, pace quickening until jolty, broken, high pitched moans are the only sound leaving you. yeonjun can't help but smirk at that, hoisting one leg over his shoulder. "fucking pussy is so perfect, almost like it's made for me, taking me so well... might just keep you here, my personal little cumslut, could bring you on tour with us, fuck you every night in the hotel room, how'd you like that, hm?"

his rhythm is so brutal you're choking on your words by now, broken sobs slipping through your parted lips, tears filling your waterline and then slipping down your cheeks, mixing with the slight mascara you'd put on this morning and making your face a mess. yeonjun likes it too, the way he's so easily able to get you like this, just a few words from his lips and you're crying.

he can't help but tell you this with a mocking pout on his lips that turns into yet another smirk, chuckling when all you can do is whimper incoherently. yeonjun kisses you gentle enough to make up for his harsh words though, he's only trying to make you feel good, and he knows you like it when he talks down to you.

one hand still around your neck, the other moves from your hand to your waist, and he's only fucking into you harder when you whine out that you're close. his lips catch yours again when you gasp out his name, gummy walls fluttering around his dick as your whole body shakes from the force of your orgasm, yeonjun's fingertip rubbing at your clit making you convulse under him.

yeonjun bites back a little moan and lowers his lips to your ear again. "can i cum in you, baby? let me make you mine?"

you can't tell if he's just saying it in the heat of the moment, but you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you.

he bites his lip slightly, only losing control completely when you lick up the side of his neck and bite a splotchy hickey onto his neck. his warm cum fills you as he mumbles out a string of curses mixed with your name against your neck.

yeonjun practically collapses on you once he pulls out but lets himself take a second to marvel at how pretty you look right now, mascara leaking down your cheeks and neck, his cum and yours leaking from your swollen, abused cunt.

you let him wrap his arms around your form, cheek against his chest, both your bodies hot and sweaty, his bangs plastered to his forehead. there's a question on the tip of your tongue but he answers it for you, mumbling in your ear, "will you stay? for longer than just today?" yeonjun pauses slightly, then continues. "i'm not sure if i want you to be just one time. i know that this part of our relationship is new but we've been talking for so long and yeah, i don't want you to go back home and for this never to happen again."

you purse your lips, alcohol fogging up your brain and making you a little too sleepy to respond. "we'll talk tomorrow, hm? it's late and i had a long flight and i'm tired, jjunie..."

he nods slightly, running a hand through his hair, and presses a kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, yn."

"night night, yeonjun," you exhale.

you're almost half asleep when you hear him whisper, "the others'll be home soon, if they see us like this, i'm blaming you..."

#ada speaks :)#adas hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun fic #txt fic #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #this yeonjun reminds me of yeonjun in one of my fics and i LOVE it #may add this to the list of things to write part 2's too #not my fav endings but i had to #its IMPORTANT

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cat3ch1sm · 4 months

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hihi! i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if u could do killua and gon with a reader whos a silly, clumsy, and kinda dumb mf <3

except readers very powerful, on level or even more than them bc reader is a boss fr 🙏

this can be hcs or a oneshot or whatever u want!

(SORRY IF THIS MAKES NO SENSE LMFAO)

☘️~ DW POOKIE I UNDERSTOOD U PERFECTLY!! thanks 4 requestingg ily <33

gn!reader

𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐰 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 <𝟑

୨⎯ 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐚 ⎯୧

killua usually doesn’t have a lot of patience for people with your personality , but he’s honestly seen what you’re actually capable of so he’s more like.. weirded out

as in like, killua knows you’re crazy powerful and generally super capable- so how the hell do you literally manage to trip over every minor obstacle in your path

but tbh gon has kinda warmed him up to those kinds of people. outside of battle situations it’s basically him making sure you and gon don’t get kidnapped or killed or something

and the contrast between your personality during battle and your personality on just a regular day chilling with him and gon is like insane to him. one minute you’re covered in blood and utilizing blazing nen in ways he didn’t even realize were possible, and next you’ve pulled up like a really stupid meme or picture of a cat on your phone and just giggling like an idiot while showing him (and very much still bloodied).

killua asked you about it once and you just kinda gave him that thousand yard stare and he was just like… nvm

apparently your higher functions just shut off after a certain time 😭😭

but back to the clumsy part. because it’s genuinely insane how careless you can be on a daily basis. worse than gon.

“watch out for the fucking pole, y/n!”

“are you even paying attention?”

“what the hell did you even just trip over, you dumbass? there’s nothing even there.”

“holy shit can you be careful for once??”

“I literally watched you take down 10 chimera ants without breaking a sweat and you can’t even pull a push door, you idiot?”

“no, i’m not letting go of your arm because that’s the tenth time you’ve tripped in the past fifteen minutes. you’ll probably kill yourself if i don’t hold your ass up.”

“way to go, dumbass, now you cut your leg. maybe you’ll be less stupid next time” (while begrudgingly fixing you up)

along with being clumsy you can be super absent-minded and get distracted easily. like gon and killua will just be walking and talking and then suddenly stop and realize you stopped like ten feet ago to stare at absolutely fucking nothing.

when they backtrack to get you they’ll be like “wtf are you staring at” and you’ll just snap out of a daze and they’ll realize you weren’t even staring at anything in particular, you just…zoned out😭😭😭

“y/n. y/n? hellooooo? ugh… nevermind.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐠𝐨𝐧 ࿐ྂ

we all know gon isn’t actually the silly, slightly air headed kid from the early days of hxh, obviously- but when he’s just with you and killua and there isn’t any danger, you both basically act the same way. believe me yall got killua stressinggg 😭😭

u guys just fuel each others’ silly antics. and while he isn’t as clumsy as you can be, when u guys are together you guys r genuinely a two man wrecking team. you guys are constantly doing silly and sometimes stupid stuff and not at all focusing.

far too many times you both have been walking or running beside each other and just stumbled over each other’s feet and fell to the ground like actual idiots.

you and gon both have the same tendency to get distracted easily. so basically the same scenario from killua’s hcs but you and gon lmfao

he’ll be walking looking at his phone or something and realize the both of you aren’t even beside him anymore.

“y/n? gon? where… you gotta be kidding me. guys. what the hell are you even looking at?!”

little Christmas head canon- you guys absolutely knocked down the tree at least twice.

#anime #hxh headcanons #hxh memes #hunter x hunter #gon x reader #reader x gon #gon freecss headcanons #gon freecss #killua zoldyck x you #reader x killua zoldyck #killua x you #reader x killua #killua zoldyck x reader #killua hc #killua headcanons #killua x reader #killua hxh #killugon #reader x gon free as

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silasours · 1 month

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% 1 ━ Yours Deerly, A .

#chapters : [ previous | next ] #cw : your unique soul that piqued the great alastor's interest; he decided to write letters just for you until you finally reach hell. alastor x gn reader. may include adult themes and mild swearing. #note : quick thank you to @sea-bunniii for helping me with the fic title :3 this is the series I talked about, lmk if you'd like to be tagged! enjoy.

there is nothing around you but darkness for as long as you can remember now.

you never really understood what was happening; you tried pulling yourself out of this pitch-black surrounding but failed. you tried to speak but can't seem to utter a word from your parted lips. you rely on your hearing to keep track of your surroundings, but there's something in particular to note after quite some time. there were times when a strange, muffled radio static voice rang through your ears, words never clear enough for you to comprehend what it was trying to say. times when you'd see a blurred figure standing before you, but never clear enough for even a rough appearance, let alone a name.

millions of possibilities would run through your mind endlessly about them. is this a message for you, or are you just gradually losing your mind and hallucinating? you often try your best to push those thoughts aside while listening to the people around you who talk about your condition. but that, too, didn't bring you any good news. every day you would hear about how your life is merely hanging by a thin thread, that they might lose you any minute as they speak.

you mentally sigh, hoping that death would just swallow you up whole now instead of taking its sweet time. maybe by then, you'll finally gain your freedom back.

"hm." the radio demon squints his eyes slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the thin cane he holds. yet another failed attempt. he lifts a hand from the cane and opens his palm, an eerily green glow appears on top until it forms a certain line of words. "looks like this little soul is back in the human world for the time being."

it has been a month since alastor took notice of your soul. your soul that affected him ever so slightly whenever you traveled from the human world and back; it felt like something was lurking in his surroundings when your soul arrived at hell. he ignored it for a couple days, brushing it off as something uninteresting until it lasted for more than a week. with curiosity, he tries his best to wrap his aura around this thing he has been feeling.

noting that it was your soul he was observing, his curiosity grew. your soul would arrive in hell without being in an actual body and find its way to return to the human world. there was not a single effect cast on it, as if it's just a normal travel through countries and cities. nothing like this has ever happened in the underworld, not to alastor's knowledge at least.

as an overload who claims multiple souls, he naturally tried to claim yours as well after seeing the potential of it benefitting him. he tried to insert his voice and appearance into your soul and communicate with you once it returns to your body in the human world, but he failed every time. no matter how many times he improvised his ways, your soul rejects him without struggle.

annoyance started fueling him, yet it is also the sole reason why he has grown more interested in your unique soul. never has he ever struggled this much to obtain a mere soul; usually it could be done with just a snap of his fingers, yet all he could do to your soul is observe and know the place it's in through the aura that he managed to wrap it in.

keeping his head upright, he opens the door of the room that he claimed as his. closing the door behind him, alastor smoothes out his coat while walking down the dimly lit hallway of the hotel. the heel of his shoes thud against the carpet he walks on, chattering gradually growing louder from afar. the light grew brighter down the hallway he passed by until he reached the staircase, now able to view everyone at the main compartment of the hotel from above.

he takes his time walking down the steps, the sound of his heels catches the attention of the blond woman - charlie. her smile grew at the sight of alastor, hurriedly grabbing a small stack of papers from the long table and jogging toward him. alastor widens his smile, tapping on his cane while standing in place.

"why hello there, my friend! you seem busy, what could you possibly be working on?" he watches as charlie clumsily flips through the papers, a slight frown scrunched on her forehead until she finds the paper she needs. she smoothes the paper, turning it to alastor so he's able to read the contents clearly. she clears her throat before speaking.

"alastor, hi! well, you see, is it alright if i ask you for a small, tiny favor?" she seems hesitant to ask judging from her tone.

"why of course! ask away and i shall consider."

"great!" charlie returns to her usual bubbly self, quickly scanning the paper to look for the specific content she needs to show the radio demon. "here, take a look at this. it says here that it's required to write a letter for the request of a big stock sent to our location. and i'm, well.." her hand stretches to scratch the back of her neck nervously, an awkward smile on her face.

"i'm not so good with letters." she tries to relieve her own awkwardness with a chuckle, but it seems it did nothing but made it worse. "i was wondering if you could.. help out with the letters? just this once! I've heard how good you are with words when it comes to letters. please? i don't really have anyone else to ask." charlie gazes at alastor, her eyes shining with hope as her hands clutch tightly onto the papers.

alastor laughs. "i would love to, my dear! it is but mere letters, nothing i can't handle." he extends an arm towards charlie, his fingers stretched out with his palm facing upwards; a gesture to accept the papers and help. the woman excitedly places the papers onto his hand, his fingers now folded to hold the papers firmly. his eyes briefly look through the documents with a small nod of his head. "consider it done. fear not! I'll be able to finish this by dinner."

"thank you so much, alastor!" charlie flashes him a grateful smile before jogging off, feeling relieved without having to worry about finishing something she's not particularly good at. alastor's gaze fall onto the papers he holds, something molding and forming in his head; an idea. he hums to himself as he dives into deep thought, paying no mind to his surrounding for the time being.

if he, the great alastor isn't able to physically reach out to your little soul, there ought to have nothing else that will be able to achieve that as well. though, leaving messages until you physically arrive in hell may help him accomplish his goal. as one first falls into hell, they often get hit by a strong sense of confusion and even panic. if he takes advantage of the emotion you may hold, luring you in with a false sense of security, things will certainly go smoothly and result in success.

his thoughts abruptly got interrupted by vaggie's voice yelling from the kitchen, demanding for everyone to have lunch now that it's all prepared. instead of walking forward, alastor turns around and starts walking up the very same stairs he just walked down minutes ago. he rarely joins them for any group activity; it's only common to see him joining them if the event will benefit him in any way.

a small tune is audible from him humming as he walks, the papers that were once held by him vanish in a split second, leaving behind small traces of dark green sparkles around the area. the chattering grows soft once again the further he walks from the stairs, now walking down the hallway until the familiar door is in his range of view. using the very same aura to push the door open, he enters his room as the door shuts itself behind him.

walking towards his neat working desk, alastor's heart pounds against his chest from the clear idea he has in his head. he sets his cane aside carefully, allowing it to lean against the desk before pulling the plush chair from the elegantly carved table. he sits on the chair, papers and calligraphy pen appearing with a simple snap of his clawed fingers. paying no mind to the letter he should be working on for charlie, the pen straightens from the table by itself and starts scribbling words onto the blank sheet of paper.

he completely sets his focus on the letter he plans to write for you. it's been a while since he picked up his favorite pen to handwrite a letter for someone, the feeling stirs something in his chest. is it excitement? or is it nervousness? even alastor doesn't understand himself. brushing the thought aside, he lowers the pen until the tip comes in contact with the paper lying flat on the surface of the desk. the paper he chose is a special one; it's vintage, like an old paper that has been left sitting in the drawer for years.

it has a sense of familiarity in it, providing comfort in an odd way to alastor. it almost felt like he was writing love letters for someone he doesn't know at all. ink flows from the pen and onto the paper, the small glob of black ink weakly reflecting light from the desk lamp he has. cautiously, he glides the pen across the paper; every stroke and every curve of the words gradually form a sentence, and then a whole paragraph.

he would pause from time to time, digging for the correct words to write in his brain. it was unexpected to even the demon himself, to think that someone like him would spend this much effort for a mere letter. it took almost half an hour for him to finish his first letter to you, signing his name at the bottom with a content heart.

his eyes scan through every word he wrote, reading everything all over again until he confirms that it has no mistake. his fingers reach out to grab the envelope beside him, sliding the neatly folded paper into it. feeling satisfied with his work, alastor seals the letter with wax that has the shape of a radio pressed onto the top.

he holds the letter; it has a color of deep shade red along with a couple of drawn-on flowers. he pulls the drawer that's seated on the lower left of the desk open, revealing an empty compartment. alastor places the sealed letter in the drawer, pushing it back in until there's a click signaling that the drawer is fully closed. he glances at the letter he promised to finish for charlie, finding it now neatly lying on the desk without a single movement.

alastor exhales lightly from his mouth, allowing his back to lean against the chair with his head tilted back. he feels his muscles relax despite never realizing they were tensed before this, eyelids falling, shutting until he sees nothing but darkness.

"ah.. such troubles i need to go through for this little soul."

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

#﹕a dream to nowhere.#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel alastor #hellaverse

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idlerin · 2 months

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nonsense — epilogue: 43. utterly nonsensical

masterlist — previous | fin.

✦ fun facts !

oikawa does make sure that he proposes when [name] leasts expects it (and in clothes she would approve of)

its been two years since the final chapter, by this time, [name] already has a stable job as a screenwriter while oikawa’s acting career is still booming.

[name]’s friends know oikawa has been wanting to propose for months.

nonsense ! an oikawa tooru social media au

synopsis. you were oikawa tooru’s #1 fan, until you became his #1 hater. you hated him so much you went viral on twitter (accidentally) and literally became known as “the oikawa tooru hater”, doesn’t help that he keeps fueling the fire by subtweeting you. everyone is all in for this new drama. what isn’t known to the public, is that this particular drama’s been on hold for three years (him being your ex and all).

a/n — 3/3! i don’t even know where to begin, nonsense has been an integral part of my life for around 2-3 years, even before i began posting the story on tumblr, before it was even called ‘nonsense’. it’s been on the back of my mind for ages, and when i started this story i didn’t even think it would take me this long to finish it. there has been a lot of times where i lost motivation in writing, and i never forced myself to create because then i just know the content i would put out wouldn’t be the same. so i wrote when i felt like it, when i wanted to, because i think you should never force yourself to continue something if you don’t feel like doing it anymore.

i’m also the type of person that would persist when i love something, and i really really love nonsense. i love this little world that i created and i hope other people loved it too. it’s funny how nonsense began as a silly little thought just because i ran out of smaus to read, and i really did not know how to even make one! i just relied mostly on my gut and thought to myself what i would like to read :). nonsense is very dear to me because it’s the first smau i ever made, i started this last year and i think the story grew with me!

i would just like to thank everyone who read, liked, commented, reblogged, interacted, and spared time for nonsense. i can never say enough how every single one of you mean the world to me, you guys were part of the reason i kept coming back and finishing what i left of. motivation is really the key problem i have, and i can say what motivates me is my love for the story, haikyuu, and you guys ❤️

i love all of you so so so much, thank you for being part of this story and hopefully reading nonsense had made you smile or even made your day.

now, onto my next work! (that i will most likely procrastinate on too, bare with me my darlings)

taglist is closed ! + (1/2) @kawaii-angelanne @ceneridiankaa @kittycasie @rukia-uchiha-98 @polish-cereal @kellesvt @rockleeisbaeeee @kashxyou @imsoluvly @jjulliette @tooruchiiscribs @littlefreakjulia @gomjohs @qualitygiantshoepsychic @mellowknightcolorfarm @konzumeken @migosple @kuroogguk @sangwooooo @katsu-shi @wolffmaiden @rijhi @2baddies-1porsche @yeehawcity @aishkaaa @crueldinasty @renardiererin @yyuiz @llamakenma @penguinlovestowrite @princelingperfect @hearts4faey @yoonabeo @pantherhappy @julia-1901 @godsbiggestmenace @angel-luv-04 @noideawhothatis @bethbat @natsvmie @luna-mothii @lylovw @apinu @leave-rae-alone @kamikokii @bananasquash @eitaababe @minimari415 @hanabihwa @nilopillo

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beenbaanbuun · 8 days

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I need fuel for my addams! Matz delusions soooo.... what are some of darling's personal goals/hobbies? Who is she outside of her relationship with hwa and joong?

Personally I can actually easily imagine her as a webtoon creator for some reason LMAO, I can imagine her taking inspo from her lover's actual lives to add to the lore of the world she's built in her comics, holding a laptop or drawing pad in her lap while she follows hwa around the house.

But that's just me and my headcannons lol

~lyra

i think art would definitely be a big one for darling. she just loves to create things and it’s even better when she gets to show her lovers and they just give her a proud little smile and a kiss on the cheek. you’re so right about taking inspiration from them too!! darling would traipse up to hongjoong one day to show him a sketch of a new character and he can’t help but recognise himself on the page. when he asks about it, you deny it, but he doesn’t quite believe you…

as for other hobbies, i think that darling loves to learn. whenever she’s not with seonghwa or hongjoong (it’s rare, but sometimes it’s unavoidable) you can definitely find her curled up on jongho with a book about some obscure craft that’s she’s decided she absolutely has to learn. she has about 4 languages that she’s trying to wrap her head around, 3 different types of yarn craft, 2 types of old-fashioned board game and a sport that no one has heard of in at least 40 years. seonghwa had joking called her a jack of all trades at one point, hongjoong quickly joining in to tell her that the end of that saying is ‘master of none.’ she might’ve given him a glare for that comment before going back to the rather interesting book she’d found on wood carving. perhaps if she begged hard enough, they’d buy her a set of carving knives…

as for goals, i think her main aim is to find a sense of purpose in life. despite looking and acting like an absolute princess most of the time, she can’t deny that sometimes her mind wanders into pretty complicated territory. why exactly was she put on this earth? what is it that she is supposed to do to leave her mark for the next generation? perhaps that’s why she studies all those different hobbies so hard. maybe she’s hoping that her purpose will just drop into her lap one day. to seonghwa and hongjoong it’s pretty obvious that her purpose in life is to be spoiled by them, but they’re happy to help her in her pursuit of wisdom and enlightenment. after all, if stressing over what you’re supposed to be doing to appease the universe makes you happy, then so be it. they’ll buy you those carving tools.

#opposites attract universe #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #matz x reader #poly ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for trying to block evade?

This happened several years ago, so I'll put the ages that we were at the time.

I [17F at the time], had an extremely close friend [17F] of 3+ years, and I still haven't found any kind of friendship that came close to the level of trust / openness that was there. So some of this backstory ranges from 14yrs to 17yrs.

My home was abusive, and she and her mom helped me figure out what was rational vs irrational, normal vs not normal, and pointing out local resources to get help - which was absolutely amazing and I could not thank them enough.

She invited me to her house pretty regularly, a couple times a week. We'd have hours of skype calls. She got me roped into Undertale & the fandom. Well, not that we really interacted with the fandom at large. We only publically posted some of the art and barely got noticed haha. Between the two of us, we had something like 26 AUs and had a lot of rp with multiverse shenanigans - like over 1200+ pages of google docs rp, because that's where we did like 90% of it. After we hit like 100-200 pages, we'd make a new doc so it wouldn't take so long to load. And we had like, at least like 9 docs I think. I was mostly in it for her, because it was really fun to just make up stories together. I could've done it with any fandom she threw at me, undertale is just the one that was popular at the time.

At one point, I think when we were around 16, I asked her if she wanted to start dating. She said something along the lines of maybe in the future, but not right now - she wanted to focus on school. Even though she declined at the time, she did say she appreciated me asking and that it meant a lot to her. And there were 0 hard feelings about the answer, we just kept on going the way we were going.

She got hit with a really bad level of depression, and stopped coming to school. After 2-3 days, I started calling her every day around lunch time just to check in on her and see how she was doing. See if there was anything I could do to help - bring some snacks, catch her up on classwork for the couple classes we shared, stuff like that. This was for couple months. More than just a mental health day, and the only reason she gave was Depression.

After a week or two of the daily calls, there was probably an aspect of toxic positivity on my end. Like "You gotta Do Something to avoid being trapped in your misery, even if it's just baby steps like sitting outside on the porch or going on a walk down the block" Not maliciously, but more out of not knowing how to handle a situation like this & genuinely wanting to help her because of all the help she's offered me in the past & fueled a little bit by fear because Depresssion is the excuse that my abusive parents used to justify their shitty behavior & neglect. Not because I was afraid of what she'd do to me, but more what she'd do to herself. That's one of the only things I could think where I went wrong, which I completely acknowledge and understand now.

She was still inviting me to her house, and we were still doing our normal thing there. Drawing and writing stories together.

After 4-5 weeks [? estimate, time is an illusion] of her not showing up to school, I can't remember if I asked if it was helpful or if she suggested that I stop calling every day. Calling every day was making her feel worse.

I did end up calling the next day or two at lunch - crossing the boundary was not my intent. We had planned to hang out on the weekend again, lunch is just when I remembered & had time to call to ask if she still wanted to hang out or if she wanted some space. I think she said yes to hanging out, didn't mention anything about crossing the boundary. Same with the next day - there was something I needed to ask clarification on, it wasn't a check in, nothing was mentioned of the boundary. I can't remember what it was now. This is another one of the places where I think I went wrong, which I acknowledge & understand.

I did stop the check ins like requested though. After those two off days, I did stop calling her every day at lunch.

She finished out the school year having shown up to class maybe 3ish times, I think.

Again, we were still hanging out regularly. There was no indication that I was doing anything wrong, there was no indication that anything I was doing was wrong. She was still the one inviting me to hang out at least half the time.

There were some problems that I was noticing that I just wanted to have a casual chat about and figure out, but she kept pushing it off as a "I don't have the energy right now, we can talk about it later" and we'd go back to the fun things. I don't really remember what those problems were.

In the summer, I went to a different state to visit my older sister that I hadn't seen in years. I talked to her about it, I was excited for it. We were still chatting regularly during my trip over skype or discord.

And then, during my trip that I was so excited about, she drops this bombshell. She sends me several massive messages detailing out a bullet point list of everything I've done wrong, that she's explicitly breaking off the friendship, and blocks me. 95% of things on that list either flat weren't true, or gross misunderstandings of what happened.

It was genuinely horrible things too.

For example, one of the things on the list was "Suicide baiting" or "Suicide guilt tripping" or something along those lines, which had happened several months if not a year before this. -I've only ever communicated feeling acutely suicidal to her 1 time. -Long before that, she made me promise that if I ever felt suicidal that I was supposed to immediately talk to her about it, for her own peace of mind so she wouldn't worry about me. -I reached a point of feeling acutely suicidal due to abuse at home & general existential dread, that happened to be during a time we had an issue.

I purposefully waited until after the issue was resolved, like 2 weeks, before telling her. I did that specifically so it would not be taken as a guilt trip or a form of coercion while still holding as true as I could to my promise. She made me promise to tell her, it was something very important to her. I made very clear to say "this is something I experienced a couple weeks ago due to unrelated things, it is resolved now, I got help through xyz means and genuinely feel better. You made me promise to tell you so I am telling you, I didn't want to say anything while we were having a problem for xyz reason." I just wanted to talk, and clear up the misunderstandings. I wanted to have a good conversation about figuring out where the communication went wrong, try and figure out how she came to these conclusions, and how that differs from my point of view. Do something to work it out, and just talk about it, and try and salvage this 3+ year friendship.

After I realized I was blocked, I was going through so so many emotions all at once. The whiplash of going from 5 to 100, Upset that I wasn't given any sort of chance to explain, the 5 stages of grief, being thrown away like the gum off your shoe, worrying about her and if this was the stage of isolation for depression, holding out the hope that we could still just talk and work things out, angry that she kept pushing off and refusing to have any sort of serious talk before this, doubting if anything she had said on 'normal vs not normal' - particularly communication styles, thoughts that maybe she was abusive and manipulative all along, maybe I was continuing the cycle of abuse, trauma flashbacks, anxieties that I had since squashed as 'irrational', fear that this was a sign that she was about to fucking kill herself and maybe the whole list was a lie so I wouldn't try and reach out and stop her, doubting my own reality and maybe the entire list she sent me was true and she was justified in her actions.

Simultaneously trying to process intense feelings and realities if it was true and I'm really secretly a horrible monster, if it wasn't true and she was about to die, and old traumas getting dug out of the grave.

God I was such an emotional wreck and did not know how to process or understand anything that was happening.

This is where the AITA comes in -

I was pushing through back to back panic attacks trying to contact her and figure out what was going on. I didn't want her to die, if that's what was happening. I didn't want to be discarded and thrown away like a piece of trash, if that's what was happening. I didn't want to have 0 chance of learning & growing as a person even if this friendship wasn't salvageable due to my monstrous nature, if that's what was happening.

So I block evaded like fckn crazy. Gmail, pet game sites, discord, skype, deviantart, whatever online platform that we shared that had messaging enabled. I called her phone several times. On the 3-4th call, her mom picked up and told me that none of the above was true. That she wasn't about to die, that I wasn't being thrown away like trash, and that I wasn't a monster. She didn't agree with her daughters actions and thought it unfair to me, but ultimately it was my friend's choice. All simultaneously which just did not compute.

If the list she sent me was true, I was a shitty horrible person. If it wasn't, and she isn't about to die, then not be able to just have a calm sit-down conversation at some point about it and clear it up - if I wasn't worth even attempting to make that effort then I was being thrown away like trash. I kept trying for days afterwards to talk to her - just, anything at all. Nothing got through, she never responded to anything.

And... that was that.

I didn't have a chance to talk to her again. I didn't have a chance to clear up misunderstandings, or understand what I did actually wrong and where, or any sort of closure.

Sometimes if I'm remembering it and feeling paranoid, I'll check and see if she's alive by looking at her online profiles for any activity. Like, maybe once a year tops now. According to the petgame sites, she's still alive at least. I'm assuming she got new social media. Literally it's just a "is she alive, do I have to worry about causing her suicide" check, I don't stalk or look into anything further than that.

Anyway, AITA for how extensively & desperately I was block evading?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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ailithnight · 1 year

Text

A few notes:

I originally planned to have this one have a couple of povs like the first, but then u got carried away writing feral Danny so, just Tim today.

I hope to get the next one out sometime this weekend cause it's harder to write when I have work.

Also, everyone thank @cursedzucchini for writing the comment that gave me the executive function to take these words out of my brain and put them in my phone. Reading that there was someone out there checking the tag for updates every day really motivated me.

Now, without further ado

Chapter 1

A King in Arkham

Chapter 2

Tim sighs, rubbing his temples and attempting to will away the sleep deprivation headache currently pounding on the inside of his skull. Pushing 80 hours awake, the last 38 of which have been spent combing backwards through any and all Arkham documents pertaining to one Daniel James Fenton.

He moved his hands away from his head, placing them on the fresh cup of coffee that had materialized while he was massaging, giving a cursory "Thanks" the retreating body. Normally, Alfred would have cut Tim off from caffeine yesterday. But it seems even the old butler was keen on something being found to justify pulling the kid out of Arkham.

Or maybe that was Jason fueling Tim's addiction. Man had been hovering since Batman called him back at the last break out. At least Dick had been able to reason better with the most volatile of the Wayne siblings.

"Picking him up and running won't do either of you any favors, Little Wing. It'll just put him and Hood on wanted posters. If you want him to have any shot at a life out here, you gotta let Bruce take it through the proper channels."

That had at least prevented Jason from snapping on anyone immediately, though he had seen fit to warn everyone that of they didn't have something by the next break out, he'd be doing it his way.

Which is why Tim had spent the last day and a half poring over every medical record, therapy session, schedule, action report, and discipline slip Arkham had on file that even mentioned Patient 26B.

Meanwhile, Oracle had her hands full trying to find any background information on the young ward. A task which itself was proving challenging because the place the kid came from seemed to have no digital presence at all. None. Not a Facebook or Twitter or MySpace pinging from the area. Not an email address or YouTube account. Not a single god damned website. Not even a .gov! Hell, the only reason they knew the city's name is because it was listed in the CPS paperwork from Chicago.

In other places, small towns and communities in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn't really raise any red flags. But Amity Park was not actually a nowhere town. It certainly wasn't a Gotham or Metropolis. But it was big enough to have formed a conurbation with the nearby city of Elmerton. Which had a perfectly normal digital presence. So Amity Park's lack of digital presence screamed Communications Blackout. A frighteningly strong one to still be giving Oracle the run around almost 2 days later.

Once Tim was finished reviewing Arkham reports, then the 3 weeks of documents from Daniel's stay in Chicago, he'd probably offer to help her. Though she might tell him to go the fuck to sleep instead.

For now. Tim was nearing the beginning of the kid's Arkham stay and; on top of not yet finding any clues as to why the kid was in Arkham, nor anything that could possibly exonerate him; the kid just made no damn sense!

His therapy sessions were all the same dead end.

The therapist would ask he he was feeling. The kid would apparently shrug, or sometimes mumble something the therapists could never quite catch.

They'd ask the standard suicide questions. "Any thoughts of wishing you could go to sleep and not wake up?"

A shrug.

"Any thoughts of wanting to take your own life or wishing someone would take it for you?"

Vehenement refusal bordering on a panic attack.

Move on to the hurting people questions.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm other people?"

"No." According to the doctors, his tone here is immediate, calm, confident. Truthful. If the Arkham psyches are to be believed.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm yourself?"

"No." Slower, quieter, meeker. Noted as a clear lie, citing the injuries as evidence.

"Then why do you, Danny?"

"I don't."

"Then where did your injuries come from."

"The ghosts," said with a sigh

At this point, it seems Daniel shuts down. He says nothing else for the rest of the session. Shows no outward response as the therapist tries to convince him there are no ghosts and Daniel must be giving himself those injuries.

2 and a half months. Daily therapy sessions. And every single one is the exact same script. The only differences are some minor notes as Daniel is passed around between therapists as they all inevitably get frustrated talking to the emotionless block of ice.

Outside of the therapy sessions and medical reports documenting the frankly horrifying amount of injuries Danny accumulates, there's not much in his file. He follows all instructions to the letter; never causes trouble for guards or other inmates; and every single locks malfunction, he has afterward been found lying on his bed in his cell staring at the ceiling. If he was somewhere else when the malfunction happened, security footage catches him walking there himself. If he was already in his cell, footage keeps him there the whole time.

Tim sighs again, clicking out of the medical report detailing the nasty bruise that had appeared on the kid's lower left back, then opens up the next file up without reading the name fully expecting it to be another tedious therapy session report.

Instead, he finds a discipline slip with the relevant security clip embedded at the top. The first frame is of the cafeteria. Daniel is sitting alone at a table in the top right. Tim's breath catches in his throat as he recognizes the demented clown in the center of the frame. Hastily, he plays the clip.

There is no sound but Joker appears to say something to the room. Daniel is suddenly standing, whipped around to face the clown. The Joker turns towards him. Daniel tenses. The Joker tenses.

In the next second, Daniel is on the Joker. He's kicking, scratching, biting. Absolutely feral as he just reigns fury upon the most feared and hated rogue in all of Gotham. Surrounding inmates are fleeing to the sides of the room as the Joker seemingly tries to get away from the kid, only succeeding in moving the "fight" around the room. It's hardly a fight. More like a vicious, brutal assault. Inmates cheer as blood appears on the floor. Guards move in, pulling the feral 15 year old off of the Joker; who stays down, potentially unconscious. 2 guards go to help the one currently attempting to restrain Daniel. 6 more converge on the Joker, blocking him from view. As soon as he can no longer see the Joker, Daniel seems to go limp in the guards hands. Then he tenses again, though not struggling. Tim just catches the beginning stages of what seems to be a panic attack before the clip ends.

Tim stares dumbfounded at the screen for several moments. When he snaps out of it enough to actually read the incident report, it is a basic transcription of what Tim just witnessed with confirmation that Daniel had a panic attack immediately after. The report also notes that other than the panic attack, Daniel seemed to sustain no harm. He was disciplined with 3 days without cafeteria privileges, so his meals were brought to his cell, and 3 days without Crafts room privileges.

A note at the bottom of the report reads "To prevent further incidents, Patient 26B and the Joker are no longer permitted to be in the same room or yard."

This makes Tim click out of the discipline slip -without closing it, just moving it to a different section of the batcomputer's massive screen- and scan the rest of the files. There are 2 more. One from a week prior and one from Daniel's first dat at Arkham. He opens both, placing them at points on the screen so that all 3 are visible.

The one from the week prior shows the Crafts Room. Danny is again in an upper corner. Time plays it. The door opens. Joker walks in. Seems to look at Daniel, then rushes him. Daniel looks up before the Joker makes it half way across the room, then in the next second meets him there. Another feral fight only broken up by the guards when the Joker stops moving. Again, Danny goes limp as soon as the Joker is out of sight. The rest of the report confirming a panic attack but no injuries. 2 days lost privileges.

The report from Daniel's first day again shows the cafeteria. This time, Daniel is center frame. Joker comes up behind him. Daniel tenses but doesn't turn yet. Joker seems to be saying g something, then laughs. Daniel hunches in on himself, seeming to mumble a response. Whatever he said makes the Joker laugh harder. Then he leans down over Daniel's shoulder, talking. Daniel seems frozen for not even half a second before he suddenly pushes himself out of his seat, straight in to the Joker, twisting as he goes to begin the attack. Since it's obviously the first time, the rest of the cafeteria freezes. No one reacts for a solid 6 seconds. Then guards are moving in, hauling the teenager away. The Joker stands unsteadily then takes a knee. He has to be led limping out of the room. Guards struggle to restrain Daniel until the Joker is gone, whereafter Daniel goes boneless, then begins panicking. Report confirms panic attack and no injuries. 1 day lost privileges.

Tim stares at the batcomputer for several minutes, trying very hard to process what he has just learned. His brain feels like soup. He rubs his eyes, looks at his coffee, grabs a comm to put in his ear. His voice is strained as he speaks.

Anyone nearby who can come to the cave for a minute?

Jason responds instantly.

Upstairs. Find something?

I don't... know. I just. Someone come confirm I didn't just hallucinate what I just watched and read.

Red Robin? What did you find?

Not saying until someone else can confirm it.

Red Robin

On my way down.

"What the actual fuck?"

#Tagslist will go in a reblog cause there are #a lot #Dp x DC #A King in Arkham #I'm sure everyone wants to see Red Hood swoop in #And whisk Danny away #I promise we'll get there soon #Next chapter if I don't get careies away again #But for now #I simply could not resist giving Danny clown trauma and making him feral about it #Enjoy!#Mentions of suicide #Mentions of self harm

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cookie-crumblr · 6 months

Text

Hype Train!

F!Streamer Reader x M!Yandere Streamer OC

Part 6~

His Info: 📹✨

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, pet names (pretty, baby, pretty girl), ML calls self “daddy”( lemme know if y’all are into it or not XD), Descriptions of Sadistic violence, implications of past SA, gore, blood, torture live stream, Oral on m, live stream exhibitionism, long part, smutt sat the end!

AN: Sorry this one took longer than usual, i wrote like 11 different drafts and didn’t like any of them XD finally got to lucky number 12 and bam, let’s goooaaaarrrrr 🐶✨

“Isn’t it way too soon though…?” You ask in a slightly joking voice, not wanting to sound stressed.

It definitely stressed you out though.

You’re finally thinking somewhat rationally now. Asking yourself all those questions you should have asked that that first day he arrived for example…

How did he find you?

How did he get here?

What on earth did he do with Jared’s body?

Is he going to get away with that? How?

And How can he be so… Fine, after Murdering someone.

And those are just the ones you can think of off the top of your head before he responds.

“What?” He runs a hand through his bangs, “You sayin’ you’d rather stay in this danger infested shithole than come back w’ me?”

You try and pipe up, “N-no… That’s not what i’m saying at all, Jasper…” but you lose your voice at least halfway through.

A fear you’ve never even fathomed creeps it’s way into your soul.

“ ‘S what it sounds like, pretty.” Jasper’s voice is frigid.

This stings you more than anything ever has… You completely let your guard down to him. You actually trust him.

“Jasper, I am NOT saying that. I just think it’s way too soon for me to move in with you. I still have to pay off next month, not to mention breakin’ my lease, an I d-don’t know—”

His whole demeanor reverts in a terrifying instant. His eyes filling back up with adoration, “m’sorry, pretty girl. I’ll take care of everything and make up f’r twistin’ your words like that.” He sighs relieved, “I should’ve known that was the reason.”

It’s not the whole reason…

But you think better of adding anymore fuel to those embers, and possibly burning down the whole forest around you.

He fishes out an old looking phone, “Dev, get the delivery van ready. Sendin’ ya some coords.” While he’s closing the door and locking it behind him.

You stand there dumbfounded.

“W-wait! Jasper?!” You put on the first pair of shoes you see and run after him. He’s only on the first set of stairs going down when he hears you, and turns to wait while you re-lock the door.

“Ahh, y’wanna come watch daddy work, hm? Is that it, pretty baby?” He smirks.

You can’t tell if he’s serious, but you become bashful nonetheless. “Uh… Sh-sure! W-wait. What— what are you…? Where are you…?” your brain short circuits as you try and figure out where to even start.

He slings the bag over a shoulder, then reaches up to cradle your cheek in his palm. “’m kiddin’, pretty, let me take care ‘f it. I’ll bring ya a souvenir.” He winks, his pupils almost completely eclipse the beautiful icy blue of his irises. He looks so different right now. You can’t honestly tell what emotion he’s full of, but it sends a chill down your spine regardless.

You nod, nuzzling your face deeper into his palm and kissing his skin.

“Kay, please just… stay safe… I love you, Jasper,”

“I love you, pretty girl” he purrs, then bumps his forehead to yours. “Stay inside till I get back. I need ya t’ skip work if ‘m not back yet. ‘kay pretty? I know you wanna do all this on your own, and I need ya t’ trust me, lemme take care of you right now”

With slightly stinging eyes, you nod.

“‘At’s m’ good girl,” He presses forward, his lips barely touch yours in such a sweet gesture it makes your heart flutter.

How this guy can make you feel every emotion, and every feeling in all the books is beyond you.

“Whaddo ya think, Issac… This one thinks he’s some sortta little cartel king.” Jasper coos teasingly. The edge of his blade tilting up the bound and gagged man’s chin, with the tip dangerously close to puncturing that delicate little artery. “Thinkin extorting helpless lil ladies makes him s’m kinda badass,” His smile drips with malice.

“Oooh! Oh! I like the snitch treatment!” Issac excitedly hops over to Jasper’s side. His own blade glinting in the dim van lights as he waves it around.

“Be careful with that, would ya?” Dev.In snaps lovingly, as they lean against the opposite wall with their arms crossed.

“What do you think little king? Want your tongue cut out, n’ getting throat fuck by my knives?” He pauses as if to think, “or would you prefer ‘f I carved ya a pussy of your own? I could bring ya t’ that little place you like to send all those nice young ladies… Whats it called again?” He grins.

“OH OH OH! I KNOW THAT ONE! Me! Pick me!!” Issac raises his hand like an excited kid in school, “The pit!!!”

“mmhm! that’s it, I’m sure those clients of yours would have so much fun with a big boss like you all chained up… They’d prolly pay big bucks too,” The knife *shings* as he pulls it out from under the struggling man’s chin.

“Ooo! Jasper yur a genius! Can I change my vote!?!?” He raises his hand and waves it around as if he’s a kid voting on the family car trip to stop for candy.

“What do you think Dev?” Jasper looks over his shoulder to the body double with glowing eyes.

“I polled the viewers already. Overwhelming majority favor him getting his own cunt,”

“Well would ya look at that… I guess it’s time for a song change then.” Jasper turns off the music completely, looking directly at the man.

You fell asleep who knows how long ago on top of your blankets, and awake to the feeling of the bed shifting with a new body’s weight.

You feel scared at first, before it quickly morphs into joy.

It’s dark in the room now, but you reach up and hug them. “J-Jasper?” You whisper sleepily.

“‘Yes, pretty. I got cha some presents, though, I need ya ta just look, ‘nd not touch the first one.” He gets back up to turn on the colored room lights, “The second one’s all yours.”

They’re both in cute boxes covered in a cat print with little bows in your favorite color.

“Which ones which??” You ask.

“Here, pretty… remember, only look…”

You pull the ribbon, and your face drops when you take off the top.

You gag.

It’s… It’s a man’s…

Images of Jared’s concaved and bloody face, with a furious Jasper above him, flash behind your eyelids.

“W-Who? J-Jas—” Your body shakes as you swallow trying to hold in the rising bile.

“I know, pretty…” He pets you softly, “It’s a little hard to look at. but I wanted to give ya the proof that you’re free now.” He smiles calmly, his pupils are a normal size, you notice, even in the lower light.

“J-Jasper…” Your eyes are wide, but when he tells you that you’re free…

You can’t help feeling relieved.

“I d-don’t want to know what you d-did. Please don’t ever tell me…” You ask with a quiet voice before handing the closed box back. “Th-thank you Jasper.”

“‘f course, pretty girl,” he puts his hand back onto your head, his fingers trailing through your hair.

“mmmm,” Your eyes close for a second… “Wait!”

He pulls away with a smile on his face.

“D-do you wanna stream t’night?”

He licks his lips, “Why, pretty? Ya got plans f’me?”

“O—okay… C-close your eyes fora sec… And h-hit live, b-but wait t’start ”

“Oooo~ I like this already” His big grin shows off his long canines.

You put on a collar that Jared got you… You only kept it cause it’s cute.

You hope Jasper likes the idea though, and then he can get you a new one, and you can finally burn this one.

Trying to be stealthy and failing, you climb under your desk with a burning hot face.

Since he’s slouched pretty comfortably, his legs are already a little spread. You thank him for that in your head.

Your palms travel slowly up his thighs, stoping in his lap over his pants zipper and button.

This is a skill you hated having before, but you’re kind of excited to use it on him.

Your hands tremble slightly.

You look up to see a stupid smirk on his face, telling you he definitely knows what you’re about to do.

Maybe you’ll still surprise him.

You free his dick, your mouth falls agape never have actually looked at it this closely.

“When can I start, prettyy~” He almost sings.

You get comfortable between his legs, and rest your arms up on his thighs. “N-Now.”

Steeling your nerves you take a big breath, then you start by licking long strokes up his shaft. You feel his bulging veins against your sensitive muscle.

His leg twitches, making you a little more confident.

He doesn’t taste like the others. It’s not disgustingly salty at all, kinda just tastes like the rest of his skin. You sigh happily at that.

Flattening your tongue now to cover more area underneath his girth. While licking more eagerly, you’re getting more and more excited to please him with your mouth.

“Aw, Thanks,” He starts talking to the viewers. You look up and meet his eyes, “W-welcome back everyone, sorry it’s been a minute, my girl and I have been very busy the past couple days.”

You grab his cock in both hands, still having enough room for it, you wrap your lips around the tip too. Your lips have the perfect grasp on him, right under his glands. You suck hard, using your tongue to lick his tip while he’s inside your mouth to, and then expertly tug yourself off slowly with a loud *pop*.

Accidentally you tug on his piercing too, and he pushes his hips up.

“H-hey yurmomstinks, welcome back. S-sup, toxickitten.” His small stutters have you giddy, you really are doing it!

You made sure before hand he’s in the “just chatting” category, so you can reach up and grab one of his hands. You put his fingers under your collar to pull it.

“mmmhmmm,” he groans and looks back up at the chat, “U-uh, I-I’m good! How’re you, upset-b-beaver”

No other time that you’ve done this has ever turned you on… But you’re noticing yourself getting soaking wet.

More spurred on by your own body responding lewdly, you flatten your tongue under the tip, and open your mouth wide.

You look up to make sure he’s making eye contact, and breathe a big puff of hot air over it. Precum leaks out over his piercing and you savor it, it’s so much better than any other. You actually like the taste of his.

God, why is this making you so wet…

You close your eyes for a second, smiling and moaning.

His whole body shudders in response, you see his breathing becoming deeper, and his eyes are wide.

You aren’t aware, but he’s never enjoyed getting head this much either.

While he’s still staring into your eyes, you kiss his glands and give small little kitten licks there lovingly.

“A-ah um— Y-yeah, good for you m-man!” he clears his throat. “N-no! hah, um, yeah, I d-don’t know what we’re doing later, might get…” he takes a long breath “Chinese or… sss’mthin” The last part comes out slurring as if he’s drunk.

You are surprising him!! He wasn’t expecting this and you feel more and more in control and empowered as you go.

This is so exciting!

His face is getting so much redder everytime he looks down at you, and he really doesn’t want to pry his eyes away from you. It’s making you feel so warm and content.

“mmm y’taste so good Jasper…” You moan quietly, only for him to hear, as you take it into your mouth and relax your throat to go as deep as you can.

You almost touch base before pulling your head back.

You let your tongue become a bed for the underside of his length, then you go down further, touching your nose to his groin.

He sucks in suddenly.

“Uh-y-yeah, that, hah, movie n-nights are still thurs—days”

He remembers he’s holding your collar suddenly, having forgot all about anything other than your pretty, puffy lips taking care of his dick.

He pulls you by it gently at first, watching as your eyes close, enjoying him playing with you.

You pull back and breathe while you can, he pulls you back against his body and your airways get blocked.

“mm!” You moan, and gag not being able to breathe is usually so scary…

Usually.

But you trust Jasper, and this feels so hot…

He runs his fingers through your hair with his other hand, and continues talking to the viewers while you work him.

“Y-yeah, just like that,” He slips, a low moan leaving him, as he bites his lower lip, “Y-yeah, I mean,” He clears his throat again, “Y/Username is riiiight here. mmhmm. I’ll tell her y’all say hi,” His smug composure is quick to return, but it doesn’t discourage you.

You go down all the way, your nose pressing against his body, as his dick fills your throat.

You gag around his size, and tears stream down your face.

Hollowing your cheeks, you suck him with everything you’ve got.

He groans and his hips start jerking, chasing you as he gets higher and higher.

“Huh? O-oh, s-sure…”

Hearing his stuttering increase in frequency and feeling his cock twitch in your mouth you increase your speed, saliva runs down your chin.

“Mm!” He convulses not even worried about the chat anymore, and you suck as hard as you can.

“Ah! Y—Y/N!”

You take it as deep as you possibly can, and feel his burning hot cum shoot in thick streams down your throat you swallow around it making sure to hold his eyes with your own tear filled ones.

When you finally stop enjoying his powerless state of involuntary bouncing, while you keep sucking and overstimulating him, you remove yourself and open wide with your tongue out.

It shows him you swallowed every single drop.

He stares, mouth agape, as his mind stays utterly blown for a bit, until he reaches up and turns the stream off without saying a single word.

You beam full of pride, as he wipes at your tears.

#my oc #oc x reader #oc x you #yandere #yandere x reader #my fic #yandere x you #tw yandere #dead dove do not eat #oc jasper #yandere oc #male yandere #reader x yandere #yandere smut

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yesimwriting · 10 months

Text

Slow Nights

A/n in a bit of a jason todd mood and i’ve been dealing with the writers block that comes from going through a rough couple of days, so i’m just going with the flow!

also i feel like the fic world has shifted away from first person, but i was in the mood for it and i write to improve and felt like working on my first person voice😭 pls forgive me

Summary: There are a lot of risks that come from being a female waitress at a small diner in Gotham. You didn’t realize that one of them would be developing a small crush cautious friendship with the intimidating, broody guy that keeps weird hours and always squeezes himself into the smallest booth near the window with a paper back.

----

Appreciate the slow nights. That’s what Marta said before my first closing shift, when it was just the two of us and the long window that displayed a nearly empty street. I understood instantly. In Gotham, nothing’s guaranteed. Most criminals--petty or psychotic supervillain--don’t have the decency to wait until nightfall for their crimes. But there’s something about working until 3 AM that’s eerie, like you’re daring some testosterone fueled, ego maniac that’s had a little too much to drink to do rob you. Or worse.

“You think anyone would notice if we closed early?” It’s not an actual offer, just part of our routine. I ask this question anytime between 1:00 and 2:00 and Marta pretends to contemplate as she wipes down a counter or sweeps or does anything she can to keep busy. Her answer is always something about how Bobby, the owner, has a sixth sense about these kind of things or some other kind of joke that makes Bobby seem like the bottom line obsessed ass he is.

She lets out a small sound at the back of her throat, ending her dutiful organization of plastic protected menus. “I think that boyfriend of yours would.”

The comment strikes a nerve deep in my stomach. An uncomfortable warmth begins to spread through my face. The fact that she’s straying from her usual joke to poke fun at that amplifies the message. The twitch of her mouth tells me she knows exactly what she’s done. “Oh, he is not--” She’s oddly smug for someone who’s always giving me a warning look when I linger around a certain table too long, a kind of worry that’s so distinctly grandmotherly I can feel the silent warnings against my skin. “He’s a costumer, a regular. That’s it.”

“Your customer,” her eyes are back on her menus, two of them are stuck together, “Your regular.” She pushes the nail of her thumb between the edge of the barriers. They let go of each other with a soft pop.

Maybe I always take Jason’s table, but it’s only because everyone else was too scared to at first and now it’s just...routine. Like Marta and I pretending we’d close more than a few minutes early or the way that Adam, my least favorite closing shift partner, never sweeps correctly and always tries to find an excuse to walk me to my car. “Only because everyone else is too scared to talk to him.”

She hums once, low and disbelieving. “Okay, because you know he--” I frown as Marta struggles to find the words. A part of me wants to tell her she doesn’t need to bother. I know because despite all the teasing, she sees him almost as much as I do. Jason comes in and he’s a living canvas of deep blues and sick yellows and the kind of crimson that has to be fresh.

That’s what initially broke the ice between us. Marta stayed behind the counter and when I finally walked up to his booth, the first thing I noted was the bloody knuckles and the Jane Austen paperback. He asked for a coffee, black. I brought it to him, along with a damp rag and a few bandaids from the first aid kit in the back. I didn’t think about how weird and kind of silly that was until I was at his table. Taking it back to the kitchen after he had seen it felt even more pathetic so I silently set them down next to the coffee. He barely nodded in acknowledgement before turning to his book.

When I came back to bring him his check, he looked particularly annoyed as he stared at the pages in front of him. For a second, the potential aggression turned my blood to ice. Awkwardly, I noted the cover and how far into the book he was, so I nervously mumbled the first thing I thought of. “Darcy, right?” He had looked surprised and I quickly jumped to defend myself, “You just um--you look like you’re around the proposal scene and for me, at least, it’s um--it’s equally bad every time.”

That got his expression to soften a little, enough for him to ask how I had managed to figure out where he was based on his facial expression and how open his book was. After that, it was something else, something that went on until closing and ended with a 20$ tip and a walk to my car.

“You’re too smart for that, Mija.”

Marta’s words bring me back. I nod, the motion hollow. The quick acceptance leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It’s a betrayal even though Marta didn’t really say anything and nothing she implied was factually wrong. Defensiveness immediately tries to crawl its way out of my throat. There’s a lot I could tell her. It might be so normal for Jason to have his knuckles split that the one time he didn’t, I teased him about it until he threatened to leave early and never come back, but he’s not whatever violence he won’t explain and I won’t ever ask about without a joke barrier for safety. He’s that one smile that makes you feel like you’ve earned something; and the jokes that kind of take you by surprise because you wouldn’t expect someone so physically intimidating to have a sense of humor that lighthearted; and he’s the books he reads, tears through so quickly he almost always has a new cover when he comes in.

“Yeah,” I mumble, trying to convince myself that this isn’t the betrayal it feels like, “He’s just a regular that’s nice to talk to. It’s not like I ask him to come in or anything.” It’s not like I could, considering I have no way of contacting him. It’s not like he’s a friend I could text.

The familiar creek of the front door’s tired hinges has Marta raising her eyebrows at me. A customer...around 2 AM...as we’re talking about Jason. There’s a silent understanding between us and the look she gives me isn’t subtle. We both know exactly who it is, so I push myself away from the kitchen counter we’ve been leaning against and grab a pot of coffee before placing a hand on the door that leads to the counters.

“You ever think the stale coffee isn’t what he comes in for?”

I still, the words rolling in my chest uncomfortably because the thought doesn’t bother me. At all. I push past the door before she can gage my reaction.

He’s already in his usual seat--the farthest booth in the back, right next to the window. “Y’know the other day this family came in, three toddlers they could barely keep track of and a newborn in a stroller and the mom trying to get all their orders while the dad filled out the crossword on his phone.” I start pouring the coffee before I’ve even looked at him. “And the part I was most offended by was that he was sitting right there.”

Jason’s watching me carefully, the curve of his lips gentle, “How dare he?”

I look up, setting the pot on the table next to his cup. Even though I can practically feel Marta’s gaze on us, I can’t help but indulge in this part of our usual exchange. The moment in which I let myself really look at him, examining each part of his face for new or healing bruises or scratches carefully.

There’s only one particularly notable mark, but this one is intense, right beneath an eye that’s clearly swollen. “Right?” I force my eyes to focus on anything else. “We should put up a sign.”

“VIP treatment,” there’s a shift in his tone that I feel more than hear, a precursor to some comment that toes the line between friendly and something else, “You saying I’m your favorite?”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes watching my expression with a carefulness that’s tangible. That’s part of how he plays into the space between casual and flirty, through the small things. “Well, you are my best tipper.”

Jason frowns, pushing himself a little further into his seat as if physically moved by his offense. “So that’s all I’m good for?”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the dangerous warmth settling in my chest. “You never stop me when I start talking about books, so I guess you’re good for that, too.”

“You guess?”

Scoffing, I let my attention fall to the seat across from him. It’s not like I sit with him every time he comes in, if he comes in during daylight hours it’s usually impossible. But nights are different...

Marta’s words come back, a little heavier now.

Jason takes a quick sip of his coffee and looks over at the space in front of him. “...You guys busy?”

There’s something there, trying to hide in the way the sentence comes out. The glue that holds us together is the unspoken-ness of all of it. He never mentions the bandaids and wet rags I bring when he needs them unless he’s making a joke about it. And I never bring up the regularity of his presence.

“Oh, yeah,” I joke, moving to sit across from him, “You should know how busy 2AM is for us by now.” I tap my nails against the surface of the table. “We might have to move you.”

Jason lets out a small sound that’s somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Thought this was my table?”

I shrug, trying my best to not seem too amused. “You were getting too comfortable.” He keeps one hand on the table, relaxing in his seat as he waits for me to continue. “Can’t have you thinking I like you or anything.”

He inhales, letting the silence between us linger. There’s a fragile quality to the space between words that has me focusing on his physical appearance again. I did miss something. Not a bruise or a cut, but the bags beneath his eyes that seem deeper today than they usually are and the shadow tainting his expression and the fact that he hasn’t even mentioned the book he brought in with him.

“I believe you.”

I roll my eyes at his sarcasm because I’m supposed to. There’s no place for that kind of worry, no where for it all to go. He’s just someone that comes in for his coffee. Just someone that keeps me company during closing and sometimes makes a boring afternoon shift more entertaining. “Shut up.”

Jason doesn’t immediately jump to push at what’s clearly a hollow response. The silence eases itself back into existence. Normally lulls like this make me feel flighty or like I need to say anything to make sure I’m not the awkward one. But there’s no stiffness that I feel the need to fight against, it’s just us.

Even though Marta’s definitely only pretending not to watch us as she wipes down the counter that I already cleaned, it really is just me and him, and when it’s like that, it’s easy to talk. Sure, we wrap the layers of heavier stuff in layers of teasing fluff and bad jokes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

“That eye makes you a little hard to look at.”

He scoffs, his lips pulling downwards. “Ouch. That hurt worse than the punch, sweetheart.”

My nose wrinkles. “Did not.”

“Bruised feelings are--”

I groan before he can get the rest of his words out, “Do not say ‘as bad as a bruised face’.”

Jason’s mouth stays partially open, like the second half of his sentence hasn’t realized that it has no where to go. There’s something kind of funny about easily over 6′, looks like he belongs in some kind of alley Jason glaring at me like an offended goldfish. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re cheesy,” I counter, leaning a little closer as my forearms relax on the table, “I’m just saying you need to take better care of your face, it’s one of your better qualities.”

Oh no. The realization that I’ve made a mistake doesn’t settle until the words are already out of my mouth. Jason’s relaxed posture as he reaches for his coffee makes it clear that he’s noticed, too. I blink, pained at the realization that there’s no where to backtrack to.

He takes a long sip of dark liquid before setting the cup between us. “One of my better qualities?”

The nail of my thumb presses into the wood of the table. “Okay, I said ‘your face was one of your better qualities’, it’s not like I called you hot.”

Jason smiles in a way that’s so damn knowing, “I know.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

He shrugs, still too amused, “Maybe I missed you.”

That’s...new. Sure, he’s been gone for a few days but that’s nothing crazy. It wasn’t even the longest stretch of time he’s disappeared for. All that matters is that Jason’s here more days than he’s not. All that matters is that he eventually comes back and things always feel like he never left.

Part of the reason that it works so seamlessly is because we never talk about his absence (with the exception of me making a joke that must have been cheating on me and him swearing he could never). I never mention that when he does come back, he usually has more marks on his skin than usual...or the fact that I worry.

“Maybe I missed you, too.” It feels like a confession, a weight peeling itself off of my chest. “Even though you’re a total dork.”

“I’m the dork?”

“The ‘one black coffee’ order is trying way too hard for you not to be.” It’s an argument we’ve had before. Black coffee with no additives in the middle of the night, like he’s working at being mysterious even though he cracks open as easily as whatever book he’s reading.

He sits up a little straighter, an argument that likely insults my coffee order clearly ready. The squeak of the front door’s hinges steal the spotlight before Jason can get it out.

I turn my head, looking past the booth and down the aisle. A group of four guys have already stumbled in. I instinctually stand. One of the guys is laughing, slurring out some story I can’t make out as his friend tries to push off of his shoulder as he sways. The shortest starts to laugh as well, punching his friend in the arm as he gestures vaguely towards me. Great.

“We’re closing.” Marta’s voice is firm as she makes her presence clear.

“You close at 3:00,” the tallest one challenges her, stepping further into the space, “That’s what it says on the door...and...” He makes a show of turning over his wrist and checking his watch, “It’s only...2:53.” The number comes out so slurred it twists in my stomach. He shuffles towards the counter, a look that’s too sharp to not feel sober taking over his expression, “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“It’s fine.” My lips press together after the sentence, hoping that Marta feels safe enough to stay out of it. “I’ll seat them.”

I grab a few menus from the hostess counter that Marta stocked for the morning shift. I lead them to the first table that’s angled away from the counter. Marta’s jumpy and not always good at hiding it. Besides, I like the thought of anything shady happening farther from Marta. She has some issues with her right knee and she refuses to get it looked at. If things ever came down to running...

I force the thought out of my head as I set a menu down in front of the seats.

“Thank you, love.” The tall one--when did he get so close.

I nod once, attempting a polite smile that hopefully hides my nerves as I try to side step around him. The back of my arm hits something firm. “Woah.” Something squeezes my shoulder and my entire body turns to stone. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be so jumpy.”

The taller one angles his body to the left, subtly blocking off my original plan of escape. Part of Marta’s face is blocked by the man’s shoulder, but I can still make out her concern. Her lips part and I want her help as much as I dread it.

“Hey, babe--” Jason. The strangers, weirdly aware for how inebriated they seemed earlier, take their time looking at Jason. They take him and the implication of his presence in quickly. I’m released at a speed that I can barely register. Even the tallest one takes a step back to give me the space to breathe. “You almost done?”

Even though the babe clued me into his strategy almost immediately (Jason’s nicknames choices are usually more creative), it takes a second for my thoughts to catch up with the rest of me. “Yeah, after them we should be good to go home.”

Jason takes his time looking over at each of the strangers in a way that could pass as casual if it wasn’t for the lock of his jaw. Maybe if I wasn’t used to him, used to the way he looks when we debate plot points and recommend music to each other, his expression would seem less distinct. But I do know him, know the way he tends to shrink in on himself when little kids are running around the diner so he doesn’t seem overly intimidating.

“Take your time,” he finally manages, attention falling back to me. I’m so distracted by the tension melting in my stomach that I barely register Jason moving towards me. I don’t know what he’s doing until his arm’s comfortably wrapped around my shoulders. Something in my chest jumps. I don’t think we’ve ever touched before. “I can be here all night.”

He’s so warm. “Shouldn’t be long, babe.”

“Hm.” He gives my shoulder one last, assuring squeeze before stepping back. He doesn’t go far, sitting at the counter instead of his usual seat in the back. Less than a foot away.

Jason’s proximity gives me the confidence to go through the whole waitress bit, “Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”

The tall one looks over at his friends, awkwardly clearing his throat before saying, “Could we just get some waters to go? I’d hate to keep you past closing.”

I now get the concept of scary dog privileges better than ever before. “Yeah, we can do that.”

The excuse to get behind the counter, back to Jason and Marta is unbelievably relieving. I’m there in almost an instant. Marta’s already pouring water into to-go cups.

“You okay?” Jason’s voice is low, eyes so soft it’s hard to believe that a second ago he was intimidating to anyone.

I nod once, “Yeah.” And I really am. The group was menacing and they got a little close than most creepy guys do, but it’s not the first time a group of guys found entertainment in terrorizing a waitress at the end of a long night out. “Drunk assholes are just a...work hazard.”

My attempt to brush off the incident doesn’t seem to work. Instead of easing, Jason’s jaw locks again. “That happen a lot?”

I shrug, kind of regretting saying anything. It’s not like I’m constantly in danger, but waitresses are easy prey. They have to be somewhat nice to you and they’re stuck in place. And we’re in Gotham, any type of assault case is low on the authority’s priority list, which makes it low risk. “You’re here most nights, Jay, you know it’s usually empty.”

He nods once, the motion stiff. His unasked question sits between us: what about when I’m not here? I don’t want to get into the whole thing, so maybe it’s a good thing I have to go back and give the guys their waters. It’ll give me a chance to regroup an go back to something lighter. Those guys and all this tension have taken enough of our reunion away from us.

I look over at the counter and the styrophone cups are gone. The one time I want an excuse to walk away from Jason is the one time Marta goes out of her way to leave us alone.

Marta re-enters the space behind the counter. “They paid, they’re leaving.” As if on cue, the door’s signature squeak overlaps with the last syllable. “And we’re finally closed.”

“Finally.”

With no warning, Jason leans over the counter and grabs a napkin off of the stack kept next to the soda machine. “You have a pen?”

What? Before I can ask where the sudden urge to draw something came from, Marta wordlessly hands over the pen attached to her apron. That level of acknowledgement from her throws me through a loop. Technically, she’s not even working anymore so the pen thing was completely voluntary.

Jason accepts her offer slowly, as if worried that there’s a chance he’ll startle her and force her to either run off or stab him. Marta does give the energy that she could either way.

“What are you doing?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look up at me in acknowledgement. “Are you trying to draw their faces from memory in case they need--”

Jason slides over the napkin wordlessly so that 10 evenly written digits face me, two dashes dividing the numbers into two segments of three and one of four. A phone number. “This is--”

“If anyone like that shows up again, you can text me and I’ll...I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The confirmation that this is his phone number hits me straight in the chest, and the reasoning behind the gesture forces the feeling to linger. Here’s Jason, always careful to never reveal too much about himself and he’s...he’s trusting me. I turn my head enough to look at Marta, who just nods patiently. That’s different.

I pick up the napkin like it might dissolve into nothing between my fingertips. “So basically I call if I have a problem, and you come and beat it up.”

“Basically.”

I stare at the number again, studying the surprising neatness of the line they’re in like it can reveal something new about the person that wrote them. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the gesture feels heavy. “Thanks.”

Jason briefly angles his chin downwards in a subtle version of a nod, “Don’t mention it.” He probably means that literally, so I just set the napkin back down and fold it neatly. “Anything for my fake girlfriend.”

“Fake girlfriend of two minutes.”

He leans a little closer, “A natural two minutes.”

I don’t even try to disguise my probably too smug laugh, “For you, maybe.”

“You caught on a little fast.” I narrow my eyes. “Leaned into--”

“I think the person that gave you that black eye also gave you brain damage.” The jokes are easy to not to mind when they’re about him being obsessed with me, not the other way around.

Jason presses his lips together in what could be either an attempt at sulking or scowling, it’s hard to tell with his eyes that soft. “It’s like being punched again.”

“Dramatic.” I fight to keep my expression flat as I step back from the counter. “I’m gonna change and grab my bag, then you can walk me to my car.”

He scoffs, a brief puff of air that’s pretending to be more annoyed than it is. “Someone’s bossy.”

I turn towards the door that leads to a small break room, “Fake boyfriend duties.”

The door to the break room shuts before he can say anything else. I put the napkin Jason gave me into my bag before changing out of my uniform and into sweats. Normally, knowing that I don’t have to work for two days is nothing but relieving. It’s still a relaxing thought, but something about it also makes me feel like I’m stuck. Maybe it’s the fact that Jason just came back and the next time I work will be a lunch shift--which is, for whatever reason, the shift he’s least likely to crash.

I won’t see or talk to him for a few days, and that’s long enough for him to disappear again. More days, more weeks.

Forcing those thoughts down somewhere deep, I roll my shoulders before grabbing my bag and shutting my locker. We still have the moments that take to get to my car, and that’s all whatever friendship we have is...tiny moments.

“Okay,” I announce my return to the main area, “You ready?”

He’s already standing, the book we never got to held loosely in one hand. “I was waiting for you.”

I hold my hands up in defense even though this is far from his most annoyed response. “Someone’s moody.”

He sighs, taking a step towards me. I barely have the chance to pull my bag off of me before Jason hooks a finger around it’s strap. He swings it onto his shoulder easily. the walk to the parking lot is short, but Jason always takes my bag. I’m not sure how it started, but like most of us, it happened on accident and stuck.

“Moody?”

The word is repeated back to me with an offense that’s punctuated by a hint of surprise. It’s a fair reaction. Now that I’m thinking about it, the word feels like it’s underserving him. It’d be easy to take in Jason’s general vibe and sum him up as mostly angsty or just another tough guy born on the streets of Gotham.

We reach the door. “Eh...you’ve got layers.”

He almost smiles, “Really?” I can feel his smugness growing and I’m glad that I’m in a position to open the door and step away from it. My hand moves forward. Jason shifts, angling himself in a way that leaves me still. He’s not blocking my escape, not really, but the implication of how close he’s standing is enough to make me still. “What are they?”

The air in my lungs jams itself in my throat mid breath.

“I’m ready to lock up if--” Marta stops halfway between the tables and the door. Something about her expression makes proximity that felt innocent moments before off. “If you’re ready to go.”

“Uh--yeah,” I hum, placing a hand on the door, “I’m--yeah, I’m--” I push the front door open as if that will prove my point, “We’re good.”

Marta nods slowly, “Okay.”

I walk out and Jason follows. After a second, Marta appears behind us. She mumbles a general goodnight instead of pointedly tacking my name onto it before getting into her car and driving off.

Jason opens my car door for me. I get in, take my bag back, and turn on my car even though Jason’s still standing there and the door’s still open. “Your tire pressure--”

I shake my head dismissively, ignoring the symbol that’s lit up on my dashboard. “I’m getting to it.” He gives me a look and I sigh. “I’ll go this week, mom.”

“Funny.” He leans closer to my car with no warning, head peaking in to examine my dash. Nosy.

“Relax, I got my oil changed.”

He eases a bit at that, moving back to where he was before. “After I told you to for a week.”

“It was not a week.” It did come close, though. It was getting close to the end of the semester and my car wasn’t a priority. Plus, Jason’s lectures about it were a little entertaining and gave me another piece of information to file away about him. “Maybe I liked your car rants.”

“Yeah?”

I shrug, relaxing into my seat, “You knew a lot of technical words.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, “So that’s what you’re into?”

“You wish,” my return is a little slower, the early stages of drowsiness finally getting a chance to catch up to me now that things are calm.

Jason frowns, eyes lingering on my expression. I guess I don’t pass his inspection because he says, “You should get home.”

I nod, hoping no disappointment is visible on my face. “Yeah, it is kinda late.” My hand finds the handle of the car’s door. “See you around, dork.”

Jason throws me a look, half glaring, “Night, loser.”

With one last look, I shut the door. I turn my attention to the steering wheel. Just drive. A part of me wants to linger, to maybe say something else. But there’s nothing else.

In an attempted compromise, I reach into my bag and pull out the napkin. The numbers aren’t as easy to make out in the dark, so I have to squint to type them into my phone. This is normal. I mean, I might have a reason to text him later and if he doesn’t know that this is my number, he might ignore it or miss it or--

Ugh. Before I can over think it, I type a short text: it’s Y/n. Even though there’s no way for that to come off as weird, I’m glad I have an excuse to shove my phone back into my bag and not look at it for at least 15 minutes.

----

This bag should be called the black hole, because the moment you need something, it’s swallowed into an abyss. I’ve found multiple sticks of gum, a handful of change, and a chapstick I thought I lost weeks ago, but not my keys.

I sigh, picking up my phone so that I can use the flashlight. Before I can swipe to get the option, my attention shifts to the recent notifications. Two texts my phone has labeled as being from maybe: Jason. The first his just his name. The second is a longer message saying that I already knew that, because he’s the one that gave me this number. It’s a distinction that’s so specific and particular it’d feel a little awkward coming from anyone else.

I let myself think about it for a second before swiping the message open. I type out a reply before erasing it. Another moment of deliberation passes before the words come to me. I type it out and hit send in the same breath. You’re lucky you’re pretty.

I drop my phone back into my bag and shift around the contents. The void must have taken another victim, because it’s finally spit up my keys.

----

A/n i could see myself making a part 2 to this where this reader meets redhood and doesnt know its jason bc i was originally going to make this longer, but idk!

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #dc #dc x reader #redhood #redhood x reader

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banzaitaka · 1 year

Note

Hello, it’s me again. Sorry about not checking the characters out. for the platonic, continuation of "Sign of friendship, scenarios could it be Muichiro, Genya and Tanjiro?

---

Not me putting people I barely know in my masterlists cause I grew attached to them way too quickly. Soooooo— big OOC warning in Genya��s and Muichiro‘s parts, only skimmed through their wikis

Demon Slayer Masterlist

I hope this is what you wanted & you enjoy reading!

Tips are very welcome!

Genya Shinazugawa x male! reader

Muichiro Tokito x male! reader

Tanjiro Kamado x male! reader

Sign of friendship #1

Sign of friendship #2

Sign of friendship #3

(Y/N) Ubuyashiki was known to be a little, gentle and kind bundle of sunshine. His bright personality could make anyone forget all the gruesome parts of the world at least for a little while, giving them an opportunity to rest and lower their guard.

That’s why everyone was so fond of him, especially the hashira and his father Kagaya. (Y/N) would often play around the whole place, wether it’d be at his father’s side or wherever one of the hashira’s were training, eating or meditating. The boy truly loved every single one of them. They made him feel safe and secure.

So, one day, he decided to let them know in a special way.

Genya did not understand why one of Ubuyashiki‘s children was so attached to the hashira and insisted on spending time with them, more so that he grew attached to him as well. He was not even qualified to be a regular Tsugoku due to his inability to use breaths, so it couldn‘t be rank- or power-related. “I just like you.“, the reply didn‘t settle down any of his confusion, actually fueled it even furhter, but he decided not to press the subject. There were more important things to attend to, and knowing how respected the oldest son was among the entire circle of high-ranked demon slayers, including his own brother, he deemed it unwise to do anything to possibly upset the boy. Especially after handling his sister the way he did at the final selection.

The young Demon Slayer sat on one of the hospital beds in the Butterfly Estate, he just went through a check up, but due to an injury on his leg, he wasn‘t dismissed yet. So there he sat as he waited to be treated. He could hear hurried footsteps coming closer, and Genya sat up straight, thinking it was one of the girls again. His suspicion proofed to be wrong though as a young boy hurried into the room instead, “Genya!“, the boy‘s smile was bright enough to light up the room, that was for sure. A nod as a greeting seemed to be enough for (Y/N) to jump onto the mattress next to him.

“Hey, are you okay? You‘re coming here very often!“ Right, (Y/N) didn‘t know of the demon-eating-habit of his, “Just a small wound.“ The boy pouted in return, worried. And for a moment Genya thought he was caught in his little lie, until (Y/N)‘s smile returned, “Clumsy, Genya. I got just the right thing for you!“ And next thing he knew, there was a bracelet dangling in front of his face. The design seemed familiar…Right, it was the exact same one (Y/N) wore around his small wrist.

“This will keep you save! Because! It‘s a friendship bracelet, and thus a sign of our friendship!“

The teen had only time to blink in response as his hand was grabbed and the jewelry secured around his wrist. Slowly, but surely a certain warmth spread around Genya‘s body, tinting his ears a soft red. It felt comfortable and welcoming, it made him wonder if his bond to the boy was stronger than he thought.

Muichiro sat beside (Y/N), looking into the sky from his position on the wooden porch while the younger one fiddled with something. What was it again? He glanced to his side, eyeing the items in the child‘s grasp. Oh, right. (Y/N) was making a bracelet for him. His gaze shifted to his own hand, laying lazily across (Y/N)‘s leg. So (Y/N) could check if the bracelet still fit. Yes, that was it.

Muichiro watched the boy attach pieces of paper to the string before putting more beads on it. He watched, but didn‘t really acknowledge what he was seeing, quick to zone out once again. (Y/N) didn‘t mind the lack of actual interaction between the two, left a lot of room for him to hum softly to himself as he worked. Checking the size of the jewelry one last time, he grinned widely, making quick work with the clip to close it secure around the hashira‘s wrist.

“Muichiro!“, the boy giggled, tugging on his hand to get his attention, “Look, look!“

The hashira blinked, giving a small hum of acknowledgment. He held up his wrist to his eye-level. The paper seemed impractical; his first impression. “The sign of our ultimate friendship!“, (Y/N) spoke up again with enthusiasm, “You can write things you forget on the paper so you don‘t forget them!“ “Oh.“

Tanjiro halted in his step as someone shouted for his name. “Ah, (Y/N)! What is it?“, he watched him run towards him in a hurry, immediately kneeling down to the boys level once he reached him, wide eyed with slight worry. Holding a hand on (Y/N)‘s shoulder, he waited for him to catch his breath. “Phuuu….hah…Tanjirooooooo…“, (Y/N) whined, clutching on the teen‘s haori, pulling and pushing at it with clear frustration, “You‘re going already?“

The sad look on the younger one‘s face made Tanjiro sigh out, a sad smile forming on his lips, “Yes, our help is needed.“, for a moment, he looked back to Inosuke and Zenitsu who were calling for him to hurry. He used his other hand to rub (Y/N)‘s head in a soothing manner, like a big brother would, “I‘m sure we‘ll see each other again soon.“

That, however didn‘t seem to be enough, as the boy shook his head in protest, “We‘ll definitely see each other again! Because-“, he pulled out a bracelet, which, by the looks of it, was made in quite a hurry, “Because with this we are bound to meet again often, as it is a sign of our friendship!“ Tanjiro couldn‘t help but coo at the other, taking the bracelet and slipping it on, before taking both the boy‘s hands in his, “That‘s right. And when we meet again, I‘ll make one just like this for you too, to seal our bond even further.“

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x male reader #kimitsu no yaiba #kimitsu no yaiba x reader #kimitsu no yaiba x male reader #x reader #x male reader #genya shinazugawa #genya shinazugawa x reader #genya shinazugawa x male reader #muichiro tokito #muichiro tokito x reader #muichiro tokito x male reader #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjiro kamado x male reader

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sokkigarden · 10 months

Note

hi!! i am a sucker for the fake dating trope and i was hoping you could do a Jamie x reader fake dating thing? i would literally die <3

me and @whimsical-roasting were LITERALLY JUST talking about this tee hee so shoutout to her! i’m also obsessed w fake dating i hope you like this anon! <3 this is sorta the beginnings so maybe i’ll write part 2 if y’all like it ? lol

jamie tartt x reader | fake dating au drabble

it would start out at a bar or something definitely. you don’t know much about football but suddenly this really hot guy is draping his arm around your shoulder to get this creep to leave you alone. “hey babe, sorry it took so long,” he’d say and tuck some hair behind your ear, making eye contact with you so you know he’s playing it up to get this dude to leave.

the guy finally gets the hint and leaves you alone with the mystery guy. he’s looking at you expectantly but you don’t really know what to say.

“you have mates around here somewhere?” he asks, and you’d point to your friend who was presently making out with some guy in a corner booth. this bar was kinda exclusive and she’s dragged you along because she wanted to see some celebs and you hoped whoever she was kissing was at least mildly famous for her sake.

“no way, the blonde? she’s snogging my teammate,” he replies

“teammate?”

“yeah, i’m a footballer.”

“ohhhh, like professionally?”

you clearly don’t know anything about football if you don’t know him, but the question makes him laugh as he nods. your cluelessness is honestly endearing.

you thank him for helping with the creep and he offers to buy you a drink which quickly leads to spending the rest of the evening hanging out with him. you ask him stupid questions about football and then start trading stories about life.

it was a pretty platonic night aside from some light flirting but you couldn’t help but flirt with a fit footballer you’ll probably never see again.

until a picture of you next to him at the bar ends up on twitter. and your face is now trending.

you expect that it’ll pass by after a few days but then you see your face on the telly. followed up with a statement by jamie saying he’s happy with his new gf and would prefer people to stay out of his love life.

which is why you end up at the afc richmond training facility front desk asking to see your “boyfriend”

“why did you tell people i’m your girlfriend? are you insane?”

“uhhhhh”

truth be told the richmond boys had been ribbing him about the picture and he hadn’t wanted to deny it. and then some nosy reporter asked him about you in a pub and he thought a simple comment asking for privacy would be enough to calm things instead of fueling the fire.

jamie didn’t know what he was thinking. but the press hadn’t been super nice to him recently so he thought dating a nice low profile girl would help his image.

“and were you… i don’t know… ever going to mention this to me???”

“uhhhhh”

“oi, Jamie, is this your girl? she coming to the match tomorrow?”

one of jamie’s teammates clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at you before going into the locker room. his words intrigued you though. already a plan was forming in your head.

“would you… be able to get me tickets to matches? in exchange for being your fake gf?”

realization dawned on jamie’s face at your proposal and he nodded.

“i can get you VIP tickets, you and a mate? i’ll throw in a tartt jersey too. if you wear it, people might stop giving me so much slack. see i’ve changed.”

you held out your hand for him to shake and he did, squeezing it instead of letting go immediately. you looked into his eyes.

this plan could clearly mean trouble if you thought too much about how pretty he was. and how nice he seemed. and the feel of his hand in yours.

you were in so much trouble.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x ofc #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt fic #inbox #request

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elllisaaa · 3 months

Note

yes i’m back in ur inbox losing my mind over enha again i’m so sorry sweetie 🙈

just finished watching the recording of bite me and uhmmmm director heeseung ?? i mean, it’s self explanatory - it’s the hottest sight ever!!

made me think about him domming me tho… i would love to hear your thoughts on what type of dom you see heeseung as <3

don't feel sorry sweetie, i love having your thoughts about them, so entertaining 🤭 and i know right ?? i had the same thoughts when i saw that he's so… grrr ! this man is so fine, it has to be illegal at some point 😣

DOM!HEESEUNG would be so playful, always has a smirk on his face when he plays with your body. he obviously loves to tease you, so much, he drives you insane but it feels too good to stop.

heeseung overstimulates you to the point you're crying and begging for him, fuels his ego even more if you moan his name, he gets so cocky it's both infuriating and attractive. and yes, it's a way of having you weak for him but it's also because his girl deserves as many orgasms as she wishes (and even more because he's feeling generous).

"one more princess, i know you can do it… mmh, good girl…"

he's such a service dom, because even if he loves to have control over you, your wishes are his commands. you want to ride him ? go on. you want to worship his body tonight ? well, he lets you do that too. as much as he's making fun of you for being a simp for him, he's even worse when it comes to you.

"yeah ? that's what you want ? then come here and take it baby."

pussy drunk heeseung comes in every time he goes down on you, losing himself in the delicious taste of your juices. he would not come up for air before you gave him at least two orgasms. he's a sucker for you pulling on his hair, and keeping your thighs open for him, his fingers digging into your flesh. he feels so proud of the marks he left the next day, grinning like an idiot.

"such a sweet cunt… i can't wait to fuck you…"

i feel like he is very possessive too, and bet that every time he has his way with you, he marks you as his. leaving hickeys on your whole body but especially your neck so you can show them proudly, bite marks too, so much his members tease him about you being attacked by a vampire, and heeseung just watches you shy away from his cocky smirk.

"what ? don't act like you didn't ask for this last night princess."

even if he's overall a very sweet boyfriend, when he fucks you, oh my lord he's rough. pinning your hips to the mattress, holding your hands so you cannot touch him, having you from behind and holding your head down in his pillow (but he is the king of aftercare though...). heeseung can't shut up in bed, dirty talks a lot and degrades you while praising you at the same time. everything about him is so hot, and it all feels so good you don't want it to stop.

"such a good little slut for me… scream my name some more baby, let them hear you how much you love my cock."

#and with the picture he posted for new year ???#he got me HOOKED #eli answering your questions #eli's moots #dinna's asks #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts

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fayes-fics · 1 year

Text

Driven to Distraction

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (sort of...), modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. An eventful ride home from a Christmas Eve party...

Warnings: 18+smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), fingering, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation, one use of derogatory language, arguing as foreplay, sort of a threesome... sort of.

Word Count: 2.5k

1k followers build-a-blurb prompt: Anthony 👅 Smut 😡 enemies to lovers 🥳 party 🚗 car/carriage sex Smutmas Kink: Day 3 - Voyeurism/Exhibitionism Smutmas Dialogue Prompt: "There's no way I'm letting you spend Christmas alone"

Authors Note: Well... I have no excuse for this. This is sort of fulfilling a 1k follower celebration Build a Blurb request and Day 3 of @hallownightsblog 12 Days of Smutmas. Thanks to @makaylan for beta reading this. Err, enjoy <3

Your sequin dress catches the light as your stride out of the opulent country house Christmas party. A fire of golden indignance.

“Don’t fucking follow me, Bridgerton,” you spit out over your shoulder.

“Don’t walk away from me; we are not done here,” Anthony shoots back, almost breaking into a jog to catch up with your pace as you charge out the main door.

You stalk onto the driveway, fold your arms and cock a hip, shooting daggers at him. You wish you had brought a coat with you tonight; it's freezing out now. But you don't want to admit to that chink in your proverbial armour, don’t want to give an inch in this stupid, petty argument. You know it's twisted, but nothing gives you more of an illicit thrill than sparring with this man.

An s-class Mercedes pulls up almost silently next to you as if summoned from thin air. It must be his, as he nods to the driver; that just seems to fuel your irritation.

“Get in the car,” he sighs.

“No.”

“Get in the bloody car, y/n,” he grouses. “How else are you going to get back to London?”

“I’ll order an Uber or call a cab,” you sniff.

“Out here in the sticks? On Christmas Eve? To go forty miles? Yeah, good luck with that,” he snarks.

He's right, and you hate it. You were supposed to go home in your friend's car, but she was last seen headed upstairs with her tongue down the host's throat. You doubt you’ll see her again until well after Boxing Day.

You narrow your eyes at him, then wordlessly wrench open the rear door to his fancy car, sliding into the seat with a sour expression and throwing aside your clutch bag. He opens the driver's door, which momentarily confuses you, exchanges a couple of words with the driver then huffs a hollow laugh as he climbs in on the other side of the backseat.

The car glides away almost silently, the gravel driveway crunching under the tyres the only audible noise. You stare out the window, posture stiff, fuming, refusing to look over at him, watching the blur of trees reflected in the headlights as you zip down a narrow country lane. The heated leather seat is doing wonders to warm your legs, but you don't want to give away any sense of contentment.

“Not going to talk to me?” he needles after a few tense minutes.

You don’t dignify a response.

“Fine,” he sighs, “at least tell me where you want dropping off.”

“My flat is fine,” you sniff.

“Who is there?”

“No one,” you frown.

“Nope, not dropping you there,” he grouses.

“Why not?” you cry indignantly.

“There's no way I'm letting you spend Christmas alone. You will come to Bridgerton House,” he states plainly.

“No, I won't,” you scoff. “Drop me home.”

“No. We can stop there to pick up a few things if you wish, but then we drive on to mine.”

This is why you hate this man in almost equal measure to your attraction to him. The way he expects the world to bend to his will. It makes you so angry you want to try and fuck the arrogance right out of him.

“You are not the boss of me!” you volley back.

“No, you’re right; if I were your boss, you’d actually have to fucking listen to me and do what I say,” he spits.

“Hah!” you laugh bitterly, “I’d never do what you told me. In fact, I’d always go the polar opposite.”

“Fine,” he retorts, “keep your fucking knickers on, then.”

“Excuse me?!?” You finally look over at him, and his chest is heaving.

“You heard me,” his eyes flash at you.

He has you stuck; in order to do the exact opposite of what he’s saying and win this petty argument, you’ll need to remove your knickers.

You are never one to back down in a fight. And you need to fuck him so bad your skin itches.

Pushing up slightly, you pull up your sequined minidress just enough to grab your underwear and slide it down your legs.

You say nothing but look at him defiantly. You see his pupils dilate and his chest heave as you do exactly what both of you want.

“Keep your legs shut,” he orders gruffly.

You have no choice. You open them, your jaw squared.

He sinks into the footwell in front of you, and your breath hitches. These huge, luxury cars always have acres of room in the back, and this one is no exception. Your seat must be almost three feet from the passenger one in front.

“Close them harder,” he growls up at you.

Your dress rides up around your hips as you splay your knees wide. His eyes drop to between your legs, and you suddenly feel a throb there as he licks his lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare kiss me,” he snarls, his fiery gaze back on your face.

He’s well and truly got you there.

With a raised eyebrow, you lean forward, grab both ends of his undone bowtie, and roughly pull him to you, your mouth slanting over his.

“No tongues,” he mumbles against your lips, and your mouth opens hot on his, tongues meeting and almost biting each with the intensity.

“Don’t you dare touch my pussy,” you whisper against his cheek, joining in the game, and his whole body flexes.

You gasp as he expertly brushes your clit. So turned on and electric hot.

“I suppose you’d hate it if I ate you out,” he murmurs hotly, his thumb swirling a teasing pattern that makes you want to bite him.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you breathe unevenly, settling back into the chair as he dips down and roughly tugs your hips forward, pushing your legs even wider.

Suddenly you remember you are not alone. There’s a driver, likely listening to everything the two of you are saying. You glance in the rearview mirror, and your breath catches. He is looking right at you, his eyes so intense.

That isn’t a chauffeur at all.

That is Anthony’s brother. Benedict.

Anthony’s tongue ploughs into you, and you cry out as his swirls wet and questing around your clit. He definitely knows what he is doing.

But you don’t look away from the mirror. In fact, you lick your bottom lip lasciviously, then bite down. By god, you want him to watch you. Be the voyeur as his brother makes you come; give him something to remember. There's a hint of blush high on his cheeks as he quickly looks back at the road—his sudden rash of bashfulness just makes you want this even more.

You fist Anthony's hair, and he growls against your inner thigh as you direct his movements, taking your pleasure as much as he is giving it. He tilts your pelvis and moves lower into your heated flesh, his nose nudging your clit as his mouth covers your pussy, gently pressing his tongue into your body just a fraction, your walls clinging to him; his invasion feels like so much and yet also not enough. You glance down as you breathe heavily, feeling a ghost of stubble on his cheek, chafing the sensitive skin around your labia.

As Anthony tongue fucks you steadily, your eyes drift back to the mirror, knowing Benedict is cataloguing every look on your face. He shifts slightly in his seat, and you hear a change in the revs as his foot slips for a second. The idea he is hard and wanting is a depth charge of lust. You moan loudly as much for him as the man expertly taking you somewhere pleasurable.

Anthony moves back to your clit, running increasingly narrow circles right over your sensitive nub. For what feels like ages, he is swirling, teasing, changing pressure and bearing down harder with every noise you make, his hand almost bruisingly wrapped around your thigh.

You writhe and pant, your gaze pinging between the delicious sight of chestnut hair buried between your legs beneath you and the wanton eyes of the driver in front. You silently mouth his name in the reflection, staring him down. You watch as his pupils dilate even more.

You fight the potent, heady urge to push yourself into Anthony’s face, not to let him even breathe unless it's into your body. You want him to drown in you. He growls as your manicured nails scrape heavy on his scalp, his mouth open wide, sucking your flesh, his tongue lapping flat and broad.

You pant as you realise Benedict has taken one hand off the wheel, and you guess by the angle of his elbow he is palming his erection.

“Yes, don't stop,” you murmur, your voice throaty and rasping. It's a double meaning for both of them, and you stare Benedict down in the mirror, nodding, goading him to touch himself, almost wishing you could watch. From this angle, all you can see is the motion of his arm, and somehow that makes it all the more appealing. That you have to imagine him, hard cock in hand, relying on the car’s technology to take over as his concentration slips.

Anthony’s panting breaths buzz against your clit as he furrows on, and you take to shamelessly grinding yourself on his face. He sucks your clit hard between his lips, then uses a little edge of his teeth to nip at the tip, and you kick out a leg against the window, the tink of your stiletto against the glass making Benedict swerve until the car course-corrects for him.

“Be careful,” Anthony gruffs, pulling away a fraction and grasping the leather seat next to you as leverage.

You smirk at Benedict in the mirror, shaking your head slightly, and he raises his eyebrows challengingly as if blaming you.

“Touch yourself,” you call softly, knowing they will both interpret it as a command for themselves, which is precisely what you want. You hear a trouser zip, and the heady thought that you have no idea who’s, just excites you beyond belief.

Anthony redoubles his efforts, making filthy sodden noises as he pulls your swollen bud hard into his mouth. Suddenly two fingers plunge inside you, hooking deep, and you can't help but cry out.

“Fuck yesssss,” you stutter, eyes rolling back and your whole body flexing.

You can feel an almost magnetic pull inside, the start of a fluttering in your channel, as he finds that spongy spot that makes you lose all sense and drags harshly against it with a come hither motion. You pant open-mouthed as the sensation makes every muscle in your body clamp down hard, tensing, every fibre of your being taut and shaking. You don't break your heated gaze with Benedict the whole time, seeing out of the corner of your eye the play of taut muscle rippling in his white dress shirt, knowing that he must have his cock in a vice-like grip.

You are extra vocal, knowing it is making Anthony preens with pride at his skills and giving Benedict fuel for his masturbatory movements.

“Don't you dare come all over my hand and face,” Anthony snarls, knowing he has you close to the edge now, twisting his head slightly to kiss the sensitive skin where your thigh meets your pelvis.

“I’d never give you the damn satisfaction,” you yap back breathily, eyes glinting in the flashes of overhead lamps as you enter the motorway.

Luckily, you clamp your thighs hard against Anthony’s ears just as Benedict growls, presumably at the idea that you will orgasm soon. Come with me, you mouth urgently to his reflection as he presses hard on the accelerator, the car zipping along now on the fast road back into town, everything outside the window a blur and the engine a soft purr in the background.

Just to tease everyone, including yourself, you spider a hand down inside your dress and pinch your nipple, shuddering and moaning as you do. It's for Benedict as much as Anthony—he can see it in the reflection. Anthony glances up at you just as you look down at him, his eyes blazing lustfully as his face shines with your juices.

“You are such a wanton little slut,” his voice is low and dangerous, and you instantly know that he knows. Knows what you have been doing with his little brother. And the slur you usually find so utterly insulting just rockets you higher when it drips from his decadent tongue.

“Don't you dare fucking call me that,” you hiss, but it’s undermined by the way you bite your lip almost to the point of drawing blood and writhe so lewdly in your seat, so desperate for that last bit of suction and friction to get you off.

“I'll call you what you are,” he menaces, then his mouth is back on you with more than an edge of teeth this time, and it's what pushes you over the precipice he has been dangling you over. You fight to keep your eyes open and on Benedict's face, his neck corded, and pulse hammering as your world narrows down to the rushing in your ears, the throb of your heartbeat in your chest and the burning pulsing ache around your clit.

“Fuck Bridgerton!!” you scream, and then you are convulsing, your eyes screwing shut as you bare down on Anthony’s face, knowing you are leaking all over him but not caring; you can feel him lapping hard at you, rousing filthy noises spilling from his throat as he drinks from your body. The sensation seems to last forever, notching across your skin, tensing and releasing in waves that you ride, undulating against his jaw, grabbing his hair in tufts until he growls harshly. As you float away, breathing heavily, his body jerks against you as you realise he has just made himself come too.

The car smells of sinful sex as you slowly come back into your mind. The realisation of what you have done hits you as Anthony slides back into the seat next to you, refastening his fly. You steal a glance in the rear-view mirror, but Benedict's eyes are on the road, steadfastly refusing to meet yours, and you sense he has the same mutual feelings of guilt you do.

“If you want to fuck my brother too,” Anthony drawls, running a hand through his hair, “all you have to do is ask.”

You blush deeply and look down, ashamed, picking at the edges of your manicure.

“No answer is an answer, y/n,” he chuckles darkly.

You just bite your lip and pull down your dress as far as it will go.

“You shouldn't feel ashamed,” Anthony intuits, “part of the reason I like you so fucking much is your wild side. I have no problem with it,” he adds casually. He leans in; his voice is velvety as he utters the last devasting line. “Especially if you let me watch.”

Benedict almost crashes the car at that.

After a brief stop at your place, it’s on to Bridgerton House for quite the most spirited, adventurous Christmas break you have ever had.

Anthony & Benedict taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @queenofmean14 (if you want to be added to my taglist drop me a message)

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egcdeath · 2 years

Text

sunday kind of love

request: I'm still so so so in love with jake lockely, and wanted to request something with him and his girl being domestic af, like going to the night market together to get stuff for a late dinner, him not letting her get an uber because he's the best, dancing with her in the kitchen while it cooks 🥺 you're so good at writing intimacy it kills me honestly (in a good way)

pairing: jake lockley x reader

summary: a glimpse into the best and most domestic day of the week for jake and the reader.

word count: 5.1k

warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF!! you will need to see your dentist after this, domesticity, playful nagging, a lot of references to food idk why, dialogue heavy towards the end, really really soft, not beta read

author's note: i want to preface this by saying that jake is ooc. to be fair we’ve seen like 3 minutes of him in canon, but he is just a big old teddy bear softie in this fic who loves his gf more than anything. this fic involves the same couple from love in bloom. i wrote it with them being together for at least a few years in mind, but it’s really up to interpretation, and you definitely don’t have to read that before you read this fic! i hope you enjoy.

Saturdays used to be your favorite day of the week; that was, until you fell into your Sunday routine with Jake.

You woke up to the rhythmic snoring of the sleeping man beside you, the familiar vibrations from his chest rattling through your own body, fueling your reluctance as you slowly and quietly slipped out of bed, attempting to escape the heavy arm laid across your own chest. Despite the knowledge that he often slept like a rock, you made sure to avoid your one creaky floorboard as you escaped your bedroom.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you evaluated the ingredients you’d picked up from the farmer’s market just a day prior before turning on a playlist of some of yours and Jake’s favorite music.

It was almost alarming how easily you’d fallen into a familiar rhythm with the man—beginning with routine visits to the market on the weekend, to second, third, and countless other dates, then escalating into spending more time at each other’s places together, and collaborating on little things together when you couldn’t be together, like watching the most recent season of Acapulco Shore while sending texts with commentary to each other, or adding a song you thought he might like to your shared playlist. Falling for Jake, and loving him, was easy—something you frequently thought about, like now, as you evaluated your pantry and fridge for something nice for your partner to wake up to.

You eventually settled on dressing up some avocado toast on Jake’s favorite artisanal sourdough, and got right to work with washing and cutting produce, along with arranging the avocado in a manner that was simply unnecessary—although, as you’d learned, it was the little details that Jake appreciated. Singing under your breath along to a song that Jake had added to the playlist, you found yourself focused and lost in making a clean green spiral of avocado slices.

“Morning,” Jake said raspily, voice low and groggy from sleep. He casually snaked his arms around your hips as he approached you, setting his head on your shoulder, giving you the tiniest start. You couldn’t deny that one of your favorite parts of spending the weekend with Jake lied in how you kicked off the morning. The back hug and cheek kiss was now a classic move, one you always looked forward to while you stood alone in your kitchen, despite the tiny scare it always seemed to give you.

“‘m glad you finally decided to wake up,” you teased, setting down the butter knife in your hand that you’d been using to design your own toast, and reaching up to gently scratch the stubble on the cheek next to yours.

“It’s hard for me to get my beauty sleep without my girl,” he shot back, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. You fought (and lost) a smile as his stubble gently rubbed against your face, a familiar comfort that seemed to make your heart leap no matter how many times you felt it.

“I dunno, you still look pretty beautiful to me,” you shrugged, reaching back down to the cutting board to grab a washed strawberry by its stem before holding it up to Jake’s mouth for him to bite while you held your free hand under his chin in order to catch any mess. “Open.”

Jake gladly took your strawberry offering and practically purred. “Delicious. But not as sweet as you, cariño.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, watching Jake with nothing short of hearts in your eyes as he shuffled away from you and made somewhat of a beeline to your Keurig. You paid him no mind as you moved over to your stovetop to work on cooking eggs to go on top of your toast. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’d sleep better if you didn’t leave me,” he sighed dramatically, grabbing two mugs and coffee pods as the machine gurgled at him in a frankly uncouth manner.

“I was gone for like, ten minutes tops. You’re just clingy,” you teased right back, setting a lid on top of the popping skillet.

“Can you blame me for wanting to spend every second of the day con mi corazón?” Jake questioned, walking to your fridge and grabbing your respective creamers. “You’d be complaining too if one of your major organs got up and left you alone in the middle of the night.”

You scoffed playfully, “It was nine in the morning! I’m tired of this honeymoon phase. Will you ever stop being lovesick?” you whined, setting your hands on your hips as Jake took a detour to snatch yet another strawberry off the cutting board on his way back to your now fully functioning coffee machine.

“Unfortunately no. Doc says it’s chronic. I may never recover,” he sighed, adding the creamer and sugar to your piping hot drink in just the way he knew you liked it. “And Doc told me that the only temporary cure is for you to stay in bed with me all night.”

“That’s too bad,” you feigned disappointment, sliding the now over-easy egg onto Jake’s overdressed toast. “I guess I’ll sacrifice the possibility of ever bringing you breakfast in bed. Those are just the kinds of things you do when you love someone.”

You made quick work of putting finishing touches on the slice before grabbing your plates and heading over to the table.

“Eh, I’ll live,” he shrugged, setting your mug in front of you, then leaning down for a quick kiss that you gladly returned. “Everything looks amazing. You’re amazing.”

You shook your head fondly, “sit down and eat before I make you take me to the dentist for being so sweet.”

—

There was never a dull moment between the two of you, which was why something as simple as doing the dishes had somehow managed to become a ‘moment.’

It all began when Jake insisted that he do the dishes, as he often did, followed by you protesting (as you often did); something about you being a good host and him being a good guest. Either way, it ended with you at the sink, and Jake on drying duty standing in a comfortable silence as your joint playlist flipped through some of your favorite songs.

Eventually, one slow song in particular popped onto your speaker, eliciting a soft gasp from the both of you— one that said ‘This is our song!’ without really having to say anything at all.

All at once, the fork in your hand fell into the basin of the sink, and Jake set the partially dried mug onto your countertop. You gave each other a certain look, and Jake reached out an expecting hand, one that you gladly took.

He pulled you close to him and hummed softly along to the words as he wrapped his arms around your waist once more and softly swayed you along to the music.

You draped your arms around his neck and wordlessly grinned up at the man who seemed just as happy as you to be dancing along to the song that had grown to have so much meaning to the two of you.

Catching you off guard, Jake lifted an arm, encouraging you to do a little twirl in the tight space of your apartment dance floor, and twirl you did, returning to him with a giggle as his ever passionate eyes locked on yours, as if you were the only person in the entire world.

You held on tight to Jake once more, heart (and body) practically melting as he sang the last few lines of the song to you, maintaining that intense, yet adoring eye contact before he leaned down once more to give you a soft, tender kiss.

Jake stepped on your foot a few times, and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t catch your own on his, but standing in your kitchen, swaying along to your song, there was no place on Earth that you’d rather be.

—

There were only so many times that you could playfully tell one another that you didn’t smell the best until you finally had to do something about it, so it was no surprise when you and Jake ended up in the shower together, somewhere between comfortably and uncomfortably cramped between the tile of the wall and the flimsy curtain.

Showering together had become yet another staple in your Sunday routine—something about saving energy and money on a water bill, or maximizing your time together. In reality, you knew there was nothing Jake looked forward to more than the intimacy of something as simple as a joint shower… and the promise of a thorough scalp massage just happened to be a bonus.

You lathered up your hands in your favorite lavender body wash and gently massaged the suds into Jake’s back, smiling to yourself when he unconsciously let out the sigh and tension that his body had been holding onto.

“When are you gonna let me take you out to get a real massage?” you asked, running your hands up to his slowly untenseing shoulders.

“Never. You do a good enough job,” you could practically hear the bliss in his voice as you both cleaned and kneaded his back.

“While I appreciate the flattery, I promise you that once a professional gives you one, you’ll never go back,” you lightly ran your nails down his back before passing off the body wash for him to take care of the rest of himself while you worked on shampooing his hair.

“You’re perfectly adequate enough for me,” he countered as you rubbed the product into his scalp. “And if you keep that up, I’m going to fall asleep.”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to fall asleep before you lather me up. Those are the shower rules,” you paused from your scalp massaging to peek around Jake’s torso, and didn’t miss the slightly too relaxed expression on his face. “I’m serious, Jake. I’ll make the water freezing cold right now if I must.”

“Fine, fine. Turn around,” he ordered, voice slightly more alert from the new threat of a cold shower. You gladly followed his direction, pleasantly humming to yourself as Jake rubbed soothing suds onto your body.

“Stop, you know I’m ticklish there!” you laughed, attempting to slap away your partner’s hand as he unnecessarily emphasized rubbing on your neck. Jake’s laughter joined with yours, the sound of your shared giggling filling up the room. “You have one more strike, Jake Lockley,” you threatened emptily.

“Yeah? Or what?”

“Or you’ll be showering alone for the rest of your life,” you snapped back, suddenly reaching for the sides of his torso, eliciting a mixture of Spanish curses and laughter as you tickled him back in his most vulnerable spot.

“Okay, okay, I get it, we’re even now,” he wheezed out, grabbing your hands to stop you. “I don’t even know if I want to shower with you anymore.”

“I don’t believe that coming from the biggest shower sap in the entire universe,” you looked up at him expectantly, using your joined hands to wipe out some of the water in your eyes. “You come here every weekend practically begging for a shower and massage.”

“Fine, you got me there.” Jake conceded. “It’s time for you to rinse, though. I’m starting to prune up.”

You nodded in agreement before awkwardly shuffling around so you could rinse yourself off at a somewhat better angle, and you cringed at the heat. “I’ll never understand why you need it so hot. Are you trying to boil us to death?”

“Hey, I just like my showers hot,” he defended. “But I guess dying with you is my ideal way to go.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to lightly hit his chest. “You are something else.”

—

“One day we’re gonna move into a place with two sinks,” you mumbled against the toothbrush in your mouth. “I can’t go much longer like this,” you glanced up at Jake in the mirror, fighting laughter as you peered at his foamy mouth and ridiculous appearance with just his waist wrapped in a towel.

“Why? You don’t like being close like this?” Jake asked, gently bumping his hip against yours and smirking at you through the mirror.

“Something like that,” you muttered back, spitting out the remaining toothpaste and reaching across your countertop to grab a roll of floss.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Jake asked after a beat as he watched you quietly floss your teeth.

You shrugged cavalierly, but the heat practically radiating off of you betrayed your true feelings on the matter, and it certainly didn’t help that Jake was standing so close to you. The truth of the matter was that you would love to move with him, maybe go upstate and have a pet and a garden, and eventually even children—but for now you were just enjoying your Sunday with the man you loved in a bathroom that was far too cramped to comfortably brush, let alone floss your teeth—and that was plenty for you.

Besides, Jake knew what you really wanted regardless of what you did or didn’t say.

—

Rain lightly pelted against the living room windows, a soft soundtrack of serenity that contrasted awfully well with the overdramatic reality show playing out on the television while Jake laid against your chest, half-lidded eyes falling closed every now and then as you ran your fingers through his curls and occasionally scratched his scalp.

“This is just ridiculous,” you murmured, glancing down at Jake as you aimed your commentary toward him. “Can you believe they’re doing all of this for fucking Flavor Flav?”

Jake grunted out a sound of agreement, not really processing anything you’d just said as he was clearly much more interested in being spooned and having his hair played with than the trashy television playing in front of you.

“Having a good time?” you asked with a cheeky grin, obviously picking up on his distraction.

“With you? Always,” he hummed. “I’m not having a good time with Pumpkin, though. She needs to leave New York alone.”

“Right?!” you laughed. “You just get it. I’m glad I have you to indulge me in my shitty shows.”

“I feel like you’re indulging me. These have always been a guilty pleasure of mine,” he confessed.

“Really?” you asked with raised brows. “I never would have guessed. Really! I’m not being sarcastic or anything.”

“I guess our terrible television taste makes us the perfect pair,” he suggested.

“Yeah, just our television taste,” you retorted, amusement ever present in your voice.

—-

While your local grocery store was no farmers market, it was nice to grab a few pantry staples for the week at a much more understandable price. It also just so happened that you had an extra pair of hands and an Uber driver to assist you during your weekly trip.

You happily strolled through aisles, tossing whatever looked right into the basket that Jake was faithfully following you around with through the store.

“You’re doing a great job sticking to your list,” Jake teased as you checked off pasta from your list after tossing various other grains that were not exactly pasta into your basket.

“Thank you,” you gave him a tight smile. “Y’know, it didn’t always used to be like this.”

“Really? Tell me more,” you gave the back of the cart a little tug to let him know that you were on the move once more.

“Alright, once upon a time, long, long ago, only one person lived in my home for all seven days a week—me,” you continued to guide him to a checkout lane. “But then, one day, a man, a very handsome and lovable one, ended up essentially moving in for two of those seven days. And my pantry could no longer keep up with those two mouths. Especially when the handsome dork thinks that finding a bunch of ingredients and cooking together is the ideal date.”

“Is it not?” Jake asked, setting one of the fully checked out and packed bags into your cart. “I understand now. I’ll never question you ever again.”

“Stop,” you laughed, grabbing the next bag from the cashier. “You don’t have to stop questioning me, you just have to stop judging me.”

“I’m never judging you! Just making observations.”

“You’ve done enough damage today. There’s no coming back from the things you’ve said in the walls of this store.”

—

Sundays were a day of domestic chores, which meant laundry, and ever since Jake started staying with you more often— a lot of it.

You were fortunate enough to have your own washer and dryer in a practically microscopic closet next to your kitchen, meaning that you had a more than ideal view of Jake working on your next meal as you fidgeted with the settings on your washing machine.

You attempted not to pay him too much mind as you moved one load of clothes into the dryer, but the very obvious scent of burning herbs was too much to ignore.

“What’cha doin’ Jake?” you questioned, wandering over to him as he peered into the oven.

He looked back at you and gave you a guilty half-smile, eyes shifting back to the mystery item in the oven. “Just admiring the view.”

“The oven view?” you asked, already slipping on a mit and maneuvering yourself in front of the appliance.

“The you view, pretty girl,” he attempted, knowing that neither of you were buying his words.

“Mhm. You’re a cute liar,” you laughed, opening the oven and coughing as a mixture of steam and the stench of a burnt item hit your nose.

—

“Come run another errand with me,” you asked as you finished folding up the last of your laundry. Jake peeked out from the closet and raised a curious brow at you.

“What’re we doing?” he questioned, hooking one last piece of clothing onto the valet rod before flopping onto his back atop your bed.

“It’s a surprise,” you sat down on your knees next to him and leaned over his face.

“I’m scared,” he countered, the dopey, lovesick smile on his face not matching his comment at all.

“Trust me,” you reached down and grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze. “It’ll be fun. It’s just a surprise. You trust me, right?”

“I do, but when you keep bringing up trust it makes me not want to trust you,” he laughed.

“Fine. Don’t trust me. Just trust that you’re gonna have a good time.”

“Hey! I never said I don’t trust you! I would trust you with my life, and even more.”

“I’m convinced you really will never grow out of being a lovesick sap,” you teased, pushing down that warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach in favor of nuzzling his nose.

—

“I love when you drive my car,” Jake commented as you parked in a spot of the mystery location.

You really didn’t drive too often, only when you had a secret date you’d planned that you didn’t want to have spoiled by Google Maps. Other than that, Jake practically insisted on being your chauffeur, even when it came to mundane tasks, like a trip to the hair salon on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Stop being sarcastic,” you scolded, your tone not matching the silly smile you shot Jake.

“I’m not! It’s very endearing,” he countered, grabbing his wallet from the center console. “So what is this mystery errand?”

“We’re at a night market! They have a bunch of vendors selling neat things they made, and a ton of street food, since lunch was kinda a flop.”

“So it’s like the farmer’s market?”

“Yeah, but at night. So it’s different.”

“Sounds different and fun,” he concurred. “What are the odds we’ll need an umbrella at this market?”

“Slim to none, since it stopped raining hours ago. But we will be outside.”

“It stopped raining hours ago, but the sky looks ominous as hell right now.”

“It’s only like that because it’s late. And because of pollution.”

“Mhm, sure.”

“I’ll bet you that it doesn’t rain.”

“And what do I get when I win this bet?”

“Prizes are to be determined. But don’t hold your breath. There will be no rain.”

“I’m sure,” Jake nodded as he reached into his backseat to grab an umbrella. “Just in case.”

“You won’t need it, but okay. Come on,” you popped out of the car, hurried around the front, and opened Jake’s door for him as well. “M’lady.”

“Keeping chivalry alive as always,” he mused as he slipped out of the car.

Jake slipped his hand into yours and you gladly wove your fingers together—a comforting and familiar motion that seemed to warm you up from the inside out— before you led him into the entrance of the market.

It started with one droplet hitting your cheek as you stood in line to pick up bao that was allegedly the best in town, then another, and suddenly it was as if all hell broke loose from the heavens above. You both glanced up at the sky in a synchronized act, then back down at each other.

In one quick moment, Jake had popped open the umbrella and held it over both of your heads before too much rain had the opportunity to drench the two of you.

“Start thinking of what I’ll get for winning our little bet,” he goaded, shifting the umbrella slightly further over to you to ensure that you wouldn’t get too wet.

“It seems like you’re already having enough fun with bragging rights that you really don’t need a reward,” you shot back, moving in closer to him to attempt to avoid getting too wet, as it turned out that the umbrella was not quite big enough for two people.

“I’ll gladly take your permission to bring this up at every opportunity I get,” Jake continued on, perking up when your names were called with food. “Why don’t you go find us seating and I’ll grab our food? You can take the umbrella.”

You nodded, taking the umbrella and briefly basking in only being a little wet before hurrying off to find a seating area with some kind of roof.

After searching a good amount, you stumbled upon a little tent with only a few people scattered about, sitting at various different tables. It wasn’t too long before Jake showed up in the tent, lifting up one of the little paper trays as if he were waving at you with it. You could’ve sworn that man had a sixth sense for where you were located, but you weren’t particularly mad about it.

Your partner walked up to you, pretty much drenched from the less than pleasant weather. He sighed out something that seemed like relief as he sat down next to you, passed you your similarly damp food and wasted no time getting straight to business.

“This is really good,” Jake commented between ravenous bites. “Here, try mine,” he held up his bao to you and you took a bite, humming pleasantly at its flavor.

“Okay, okay, try mine,” you held one of yours up to his face, and didn’t miss that his eyes lit up after taking a little bite. “Wanna swap?”

He gave you a smile that said a thousand words, and you gladly switched the paper trays in front of you. “You know me so well,” Jake hummed, extremely content as he finished off your order.

As you sat, the cold wind and a stray drizzle of rain continued to batter you, despite you being under the overhead safety of a tent. You couldn’t help but shiver as you and Jake played Words with Friends, attempting to wait out the rain.

“Are you cold?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your hip and pulling you closer to his side in an attempt to share some of his warmth.

Jake’s observance was both a blessing and a curse. Sure, you were shivering a little, but it really wasn’t that bad. And since you were showing any sign of discomfort, you had a feeling you knew the direction of this conversation.

“I’m okay,” you dismissed.

“No,” he countered stubbornly, already shrugging off the shoulders of his jacket in preparation of draping it around you.

“Jake,” you whined.

“No, really. I was overheating. You feel the heat radiating off of me, right? Why not share some of the heat with my girl?”

There was no other protest you could make, as Jake was already slipping his surprisingly warm jacket around you.

A few rounds of your game and facetious arguments later, the rain still hadn’t cleared up. You were usually quite patient, but the thought of getting out of your wet clothes and laying in your warm bed was far too exciting of a prospect to stay under the shelter for one minute longer than you needed to.

“Think we should just brave it?” Jake asked as if he could read your mind.

“Please. I was literally about to ask you the same thing,” you both were already getting out from your seats as you spoke.

“What’s our plan here? Duck and run?” Jake asked, already popping the umbrella back up.

“I think so. And my honest opinion is that the umbrella is only going to slow us down. We need to raw it.”

“Ew,” he cringed at your word choice, and began to fold the umbrella back down. “But you’re right about it slowing us down. Okay, let’s go.”

You two looked at each other and took a dramatic deep breath before grabbing one another’s hand and rushing out from under the tent.

You had an idea of just how ridiculous the two of you must’ve looked, holding hands and running in the rain as an umbrella dangled off of your wrist, but you would be lying if you didn’t admit just how fun it was.

It was surprisingly easy to find your vehicle, but before you could slip into the passenger side, Jake grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into a rather dramatic and surprisingly passionate kiss.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he gasped breathlessly, winded from both running and kissing you so intensely.

“Rom-com kiss? I think we can both cross that off of our bucket lists,” you giggled, pecking his lips once more before getting into the car.

“That was fun. We should do it again sometime,” Jake chimed as he sat down next to you, immediately blasting the heat in the car.

“I think we have different definitions of fun,” you panted.

—-

It was a miracle that Jake had managed to stay over so long, usually opting to leave your apartment sometime in the evening with a gentle kiss and a promise to be back the following weekend. But not tonight. Following a second shower together—the result of getting so damp at the night market—Jake followed you to bed and laid on his side as he watched you get a book out and try to relax your mind enough to fall asleep.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t love when he decided to stay over an extra night, or that you didn’t love when he got into one of his ‘lost puppy dog’ moods where all he wanted to do was follow you around and be close to you. Hence, why you didn’t comment on him laying his head on your stomach while you attempted to read, despite the action distracting you every time you noticed the heap of wet curls sticking out from the top of your book.

“Would you marry me someday?” he asked out of the blue, looking up at you from where his head was resting on your stomach.

You would be taken aback, but it wasn’t the first time one of you pulled out a future card after a long day of domestic bliss.

“What do you think?” you asked, setting your book down on your bedside table.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you,” the earnest look on his face telling you that he genuinely was curious—if not a little concerned—about what your answer would be.

“We’re practically a married couple already,” you slipped your hands down to cup his face. “Some of my friends think we’ve been engaged for months. I’ve received texts asking why they haven’t been invited to the ceremony.”

You both chuckle at that, Jake’s sounding slightly more nervous than your own. You rubbed at his forehead gently with your thumb, as if you could wipe away his worry lines.

“Please don’t look so anxious. I will marry you someday. Hell, if you proposed to me right now, I would find a minister online and marry you in this bed at this very moment. How else are we gonna have two and a half kids, a few cats and dogs, and a garden full of meaningful flowers in our suburban upstate home?”

“We could be lifelong partners…?”

“Shh,” you cooed before beckoning him closer to you. “C’mere.”

Jake readjusted himself so he could properly spoon you, giving you a second to hit your bedside lamp before wrapping his arms and body around you.

“That wasn’t you proposing to me, was it?” you asked, your hands finding his as you cuddled.

“No! No. I just wanted to gauge how you feel about me.”

“You really think I would say no to marrying you?”

“Possibly.”

“Jake!”

“I just come with a lot of baggage, you know? Seeing each other is one thing, but marriage?”

You rolled over a bit awkwardly so you could properly face the man. “I would spend the rest of my life with you if you had three eyes, a tail, and were the owner of the baggage factory. We all have our things. I don’t love you any less because of it.”

Jake sighed, and you weren’t quite sure whether it was a sigh of relief or surrender.

“It’s true. Really. You need to worry less about whether or not I’d say yes, and worry more about how you’re gonna propose. I love you, but asking to get married while I’m trying to read before bed isn’t gonna cut it. I might end up thinking it’s a dream.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe even add it to my proposal notebook.”

“You have a notebook on how you’re gonna propose to me?”

“Maybe…” he drew the word out.

“You are so…” you broke out into laughter. “I don’t even know. I just adore you.”

“Would it be redundant to say that I adore you?”

“Maybe a little bit. But I wanna hear it anyway.”

“I adore you. I truly love you to the moon and back,” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Mm, music to my ears,” you yawned sleepily. “I love you too. Sweet dreams.”

“With you? Always.”

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockely x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight

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