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jakesimfromstatefarm · 3 years

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how to fake date your best friend | jake sim

✰ summary: the rules were simple -

pretend to be the boyfriend of you, his best friend who wants the attention of their crush, for a week and a week only

no kissing (bc gross cooties amirite) allowed, unless needed in times of desperate measure

and no matter what, absolutely, most definitely, do not fall in love.

simple, right?

well apparently not. because news flash––jake's already broken one of the rules.

and to give you a hint, it's neither rule 1 or 2.

✰ pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. members of enha!]

✰ genre: fluff, comedy | fakingdating!au, highschool!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers

✰ warnings: cursing, high-schoolers doing dumb highschool things, underage drinking (pls don’t actually do any of this irl), jake being a certified simp, it’s LONG (i’m so sorry), cheesy kithes bc im a sucker for kithes ( ˘ ³˘)♥

✰ wc: a whopping 9.5k

✰ a/n: it’s finally finished :’)))))) it ended up being much longer than i wanted but i had so much fun writing the characters that i got carried away lolol anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy it,,,i got a little unmotivated during the process bc i didn’t know if it was good or not but here it is heh (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

Tuesday, December 8th

Jake Sim lives a simple life.

He likes to think he leads the normal, stereotypical life of a teenage boy. Has decent grades, plays soccer after school, skateboards around the neighborhood, has a best friend who he’s desperately in love with, and has a stable group of friends.

Okay, maybe not so simple, because this boy would physically launch himself to the moon and drill at its surface to collect moon dust for you if you asked him to––despite his deadly fear of combusting in outer space.

But that fear doesn’t even compare to his worst one yet: not having you in his life.

And so, he decided to just repress any and all feelings he’s had for you ever since he discovered them in middle school, when he realized he hated seeing you go to the eighth grade dance with a date––that wasn’t him.

He decided that he wasn’t going to risk losing a life-long friendship over some dumb, teenage boy feelings.

They were probably powered by his testosterone anyways. Yeah, that’s totally it.

He’s totally not in love with you.

So yes, he lives a pretty normal life. Every day is the same as the last, and tomorrow will be the same as today. But he likes it like that––he doesn’t want anything to change.

Especially not now, when he finds himself content with every aspect of his life (okay maybe except for his history grade, god, does he hate history).

So, it catches him off guard when you arrive at the group’s usual lunch table, located outside in your school’s courtyard, looking as excited as ever.

Jake’s the only one at the table so far. The remaining usually showed up late––Heeseung spends his first half of lunch tutoring freshmen for community service hours (but the poor boy has no idea what he’s doing), Sunghoon is probably stuck in line in the cafeteria again (he always forgets to pack his own lunch), and Jay is...well actually, no one ever knows where Jay comes from. He’s a special one.

It catches Jake even more off guard when you skip over any greeting a normal person would give, and start speaking at one hundred words per second.

And that catches us up to the present.

“Y-You want me to what?” Jake’s stuttering as you stare at him with your hopeful eyes from across the lunch table.

Despite the expression planted on your face, which screams your excitement for your “brilliant, amazing, genius, Einstein-could-never” idea (or whatever other words you used to describe it––Jake can’t exactly recall the specific terms you used, they all came out of your mouth too fast), you don’t respond to his question of bafflement. You continue to stare at him, awaiting his response. Jake could compare the look on your face right now to a puppy looking up at its owner, eagerly waiting for a treat. You know, tongue out and all.

He swallows the lump that’s lodged in this throat (is that the sandwich he’s having, or his nerves?) and continues to give you his look of confusion laced with a nervous smile because surely, you’re joking.

You grab what’s left of your sandwich from his hands and take your own bite. Somewhere in between you arriving at the table and now, Jake’s managed to steal the sandwich you brought today. You did make the best chicken sandwiches, in his defense.

“Well? It’s only for the week! And I promise you, after one week, if nothing happens––if he doesn’t make a move or anything––I’ll move on from him like you’ve been telling me to.” Your words are muffled from you savoring your sandwich, or what’s left of it anyways. (Mental note to self: don’t share your lunch with Jake ever again.)

When Jake still doesn’t respond (you’ve truly gotten this poor boy paralyzed), you find it as a sign to continue.

“I think it’s the perfect plan. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be like the universe is telling me to finally move on, right?”

Wrong.

Jake has been encouraging you to move on from your crush because well, if we’re being honest here, he selfishly wants you to himself. Even if it wasn’t romantically.

Preferably, he would kill to get to be the one who holds your hand in the hall, call you cheesy pet names, post disgustingly cute couple pics for the ‘gram––but for the sake of potentially ruining his relationship with you, he’ll just have to settle with the role of being your best friend.

(And he’s totally fine with that! Totally. Yup.)

But he didn’t think that you moving on would only be a mere possible outcome (that may not even happen!) from whatever this stunt is you wanna pull.

Said stunt: Pretend to date one another and hope it catches the eye of a certain someone you have your eye on: Park Sunghoon.

Ah yes, Park Sunghoon. The previously mentioned one who’s probably still in line waiting to get his lunch as we speak.

Park Sunghoon, the tall, kind, intelligent, charming young boy that everyone knows. And if anyone didn’t know him, they most definitely knew of him. He wasn’t hard to miss in the halls; everything about him just radiates perfection.

If you plucked a random high-schooler from the halls of this school and interviewed them on the Park Sunghoon, they’d say you’d be lucky enough if the quiet boy so much as sparked a conversation with you, even if it was about what last night’s chemistry homework was.

Well if that were true, then you and the rest of the boys would be considered lottery winners.

How that happened, how the four of you dysfunctional beings earned his friendship, the world may never know. However, Jake is fully convinced that this was the universe’s way of playing a cruel joke on him.

For as long as Jake could remember, it’s always been just the two of you. You and Jake. Jake and you. (With the exception of Heeseung and Jay, of course, who came along in middle school)

In fact, your earliest memory of Jake was when he peed his pants in the kindergarten during nap time. You would know, you had the privilege of sharing a sleeping mat with him that one fateful day and in result...let’s just say the smell didn’t wear off from your clothes until a week later. Five-year-old you didn’t forgive five-year-old Jake for the longest time.

And since then, you’ve been attached by the hip. And Jake liked it like that. Jake didn’t need anyone else in his life (with the exception of Leila) if he had you. He had found his home within you, and he didn’t plan on sharing his space anytime soon.

Nevertheless, the universe had a completely different idea for the two of you.

Sunghoon came into the picture last year, towards the end of the school year. Despite being the new kid, he found his way into your cherished friend group and naturally, the five of you grew as close as friends could be.

That was the problem. Jake wanted to hate Sunghoon, to despise him for being the one that you had heart eyes for, but he couldn’t.

Not only was Sunghoon one of Jake’s closest friends, but he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group. After you, the three chaotic boys were the next most important people in Jake’s life.

And so, we have the typical love triangle plot that every coming-of-age movie follows. Of course, this is all unbeknownst to you––you may be intelligent and a people-person, but oh boy can you not see the heart eyes your very own best friend has for you.

“It’ll be easier than you think, really! Look, we can even set boundaries or rules or whatever,” you propose, as if you’re trying to get him to sign a contract.

Rules to a fake relationship? We’re not living in a Netflix romcom, are we?

“Okay rule number 1: it’ll only be for a week and a week only, rule number 2: we don’t have to do anything too couple-ly like...” you pause to wonder for a second.

“Like PDA or anything! You know, unless we really need to convince him,” you casually add. When he responds with radio silence and stares at you with absolute concern painted all over his face, you cough. “Jake, I’m joking.”

Right. Of course. Obviously.

“And of course, just try not to fall in love with me, it’ll be hard, I know,” you send a playful wink his way.

Too late. Turns out it’s not that hard. Jake would know.

Jake continues to stare at you in hesitation. Yeah, you’ve had your fair share of crazy ideas (that Jake always find himself agreeing to––the poor boy just can’t seem to say no to you), but fake dating you?

Jake is sure he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without slowly destroying himself. He’d just have to say no, he’s sure you can find someone else to do it for you.

Yes, that’s it, just say no.

Jake has to keep some of his pride in tact.

Jake does not say no.

He doesn’t know what went wrong. His mind said one thing, but his words said another.

To be fair, Jake’s actions have always been influenced by his heart, not his brain, anyways. And when it comes to you, you bet it’ll be coming from his heart.

So here he was now, under the stare of three equally shocked and confused guys across from you and him at the lunch table, your fingers intertwined with his.

Just a few seconds ago, you had spotted the rest of the lunch bunch approaching the table, and you quickly grabbed Jake’s hand and scooted in closer to him.

Now here you were, explaining to your friends of your sudden relationship.

Jake is too zoned out to even physically pick up your explanation. Something along the lines of "we’ve been dating for a while but didn’t want to tell you guys yet." From the feeling of your hand clutched tightly into his and your body right up next to him, his mind was short-circuiting.

How is he supposed to last an entire week of this if he couldn't handle innocent hand holding? Hand holding? God, what are we, back in the fifth grade?

Two minutes into this scheme and Jake's mind has already downgraded itself to a fifth grader's.

Jake mentally scolds himself for giving in, this was not a good idea.

It takes Jake approximately 12 hours to conclude that this stunt of yours may, actually, be a good idea. He knows this because approximately 12 hours after the events surrounding lunch, he receives a text from you:

y/n [12:03AM]: thanks again for doing this for me jake

y/n [12:03AM]: ur actually the best

y/n [12:04AM]: ew ok that was cheesy but really i owe u a big one <333

Following your thread of texts is a really close up photo of you widely smiling into the camera. A smile so big, Jake’s convinced your face was probably in pain after taking that picture.

Anyone else might’ve thought the photo looked borderline insane but because Jake’s Jake, aka a simpᵗᵐ for you, he comes to the conclusion that it’s singlehandedly the cutest thing he’s ever seen in the entire world.

After quickly saving the selfie into his phone, Jake tells himself that maybe this won’t be a bad thing after all. I mean, anything that makes you smile like that meant it has to be a good idea, right?

Spoken like a true simp.

Plus, dating you––fake dating you––is pretty much the same as it was before. He already spends most of his days with you to begin with. Now, it’s just with added displays of affection. For show, obviously. Obviously.

And look, if Jake will never get to actually be with you, then he’ll take what he can get. And if that meant fake dating you, well, he reasons that it’s better than nothing at all.

Wednesday, December 9th

Jake’s playing with the rings on your right hand and you’re in the middle of dramatically telling the lunch table about the infuriating Karen you had to deal with at work the other day when Jay comes up with a grin you all know a little too well.

“Okay that grin means one of two things: you finally grew the balls to ask out that poor girl you’ve been teasing all year or you have something planned that we won’t like,” you interrupt your story when you catch Jay’s sly expression, evoking a chuckle from Jake, who’s now found a new distraction with the bracelets perches on your wrist.

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I did ask her out. It just so happens that she’s currently ‘in between boyfriends’ whatever that means. Ouch, by the way,” Jay feigns hurt from your comment by clutching the area above his heart through his shirt. Ever the drama queen. “But yes, I do have something planned. And no, it’s not a bad idea.”

Jay squeezes his way in between Sunghoon and Heeseung from across you and begins to pull out his own lunch. Everyone’s eyes follow him as he settles in because as bad as his unknown idea may be, you’re all still curious on what this boy has to say.

“Well are you going to elaborate or...” Heeseung speaks up for everyone after you all mentally debate one another through darting eyes on who’s going to have to bite Jay’s silent bait.

Jay then forcefully sets both hands on his table, which elicits a little jump from you as you go for a bite of your sandwich. Adorable, Jake tells himself.

“My parents are out of town this weekend. We all know what that means...”

Yes. We do know what that means. The four of you have seen this scenario play out many times, a little too many times for your own good.

This meant one of Jay’s infamous house parties that he always throws whenever his parents go out of town. And because his parents are hot-shot CEOs of an important company whose name you don’t remember (it’s nothing personal, your brain can only handle so much information and this physics exam you were studying for took up 90% of your brain capacity at the moment), they’re out of town often.

And along with Jay’s parties comes chaos. Lots of it. And that’s because...well, it’s safe to say that despite the many school-wide presentations the police officers of your school have held in the auditorium on why you shouldn’t drink underage, Jay’s parents’ liquor cabinet always seems to find itself missing many a few bottles after each party. But we don’t talk about that. Shush.

Almost simultaneously, everyone at the table lets out a groan, much to Jay’s disappointment.

“C’mon guys! It’s been a while since anything’s fun happened to this school, think of all the sad students in that building right now,” he extends a finger whole-ass arm and points at your school, “who are in dire need of fun and a little...” he punctuates his sentence with the hand motion of chugging down a drink, followed with a gulping sound elicited from his tongue clicking.

You roll your eyes along with everyone else. Don’t be like Jay, kids. Listen to those police officers.

“Jay, it’s midterm season! I have an exam on Monday and I definitely do not want to spend the nights before wasted,” you give him an apologetic look. As crazy as Jay is, you do feel bad nonetheless. The boy just wants to have fun.

Your response is followed up with similar comments from around the table.

“I’m helping y/n study”

“I have an important skating performance on Sunday”

“Uh...my hamster died?” (ok Heeseung panicked, don’t blame the guy)

Ignoring that last excuse of an excuse, Jay continues his debate nonetheless. “Just come for the sake of it! No one’s saying you have to get wasted. Pleaseeee for me?”

Jay throws these parties so often, you’re not sure why he’s so set on making sure you’re all going to be there. Well, I guess who wouldn’t want their closest friends to be at their own party?

That and, Jay needs to make sure his friends are there to stop him from doing anything stupid. We all know this boy has had enough embarrassing moments to last him a lifetime.

Everyone at the table gives each other the same hesitant look. Heeseung is the first to give in, “Oh fuck it. Sure, count me in.”

Jay’s fist pumping the air before turning to Sunghoon with the most hopeful eyes.

Sunghoon simply sighs in return. “Alright okay, I’ll bite. But if you vomit on my shoes again, I’m out the door.” Jay’s finger is automatically drawing a cross over his heart as a promise to not ruin Sunghoon’s Nikes again.

He then looks to you with puppy eyes.

You, who's already staring back at Jay with a stoic look in your eyes, are stubborn and (unlike the previous weaklings) are not as easy to convince. And somehow, this began an unannounced staring contest between the two of you, a contest to see who would budge first. This isn't an uncommon occurrence between you and Jay, but the rest of the boys are still on the edges of their seats watching this duel.

Jake casually wraps an arm around your shoulder and you’re brought in close, but still undeterred from your death-stare match with the boy across from you.

If it’s not obvious enough, Jake’s really gotten into his role of being your boyfriend, despite it only being 24 hours since he last froze at your touch. Character development, you’ll give him that.

You almost forget he’s faking it for a quick second. And for an even quicker second, you imagine he wasn’t faking it. And you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach at that thought.

Weird.

You mentally shake the thought out of your head. Priorities first, aka, beating Jay in this staring contest.

“Fuck,” you stutter when you finally blink, admitting defeat to a grinning Jay. “Okay, okay, I’ll THINK about it. I’ll let you know.”

Not exactly the answer Jay was looking for, but he’ll take it. Better than a no.

He turns to Jake next, knowing there’s no way Jake will turn down a party. Just like Jay, the boy loves himself a good party.

But–

But because Jake would take your physics exam this Monday for you if you asked, because Jake would bungee jump in the Grand Canyon without a safety net below him if you asked, because Jake would fake date you to make your crush jealous for you if you asked, he doesn’t hesitate in his answer this time around: “Same as y/n, I’ll let you know.”

Jay looks at Jake. Then back at you, who he’s still clinging onto like a koala to a tree. Then back at Jake. “You two are gross. Admittedly cute. But gross.”

You look up at the boy next to you to see him already grinning at you.

For the first time today, you find yourself agreeing with Jay.

Admittedly cute.

Thursday, December 10th

You are having a bad day.

You’re having the mother of bad days.

Not only is it midterm season, but you still have all your regular weekly assignments to finish before Friday hits. So as a natural-born procrastinator does, you stayed up all last night trying to get a good amount of work done because what’s better than cramming all your work the night before it’s due? Doing it two nights before it’s due.

Well apparently it wasn’t such a good idea. Because now, here you were, frantically throwing on whatever articles of clothing you find nearest to you because you slept through all your alarms.

You’re lucky enough to make it through your school’s doors right as the second bell rings, even if you did look like you just walked straight out of a zombie apocalypse.

You’re not so lucky when you find out your first class of the day, calculus, had a pop quiz. A pop quiz on the only unit you just happened to know absolutely nothing about.

To top things off, you forgot to pack your lunch during this morning’s frenzy, meaning you’re automatically stuck sharing with Jake.

And because his mother started making him pack his own food out of a lesson of responsibility (she said something along the lines of: “Jake, you’re about to be in college and you don’t know how to pack a decent meal”), he only has a plain PB&J sandwich and a pack of Scooby-Doo gummies in his bag today (because newsflash, he still doesn’t know how to pack a decent meal).

Not that you could care less at the moment, you were too preoccupied with catching up on your assignments to even eat. And if any of the boys noticed your zombie-like state during lunch, they did a good job of not mentioning it. They knew better than to bother an irritated y/n.

Somehow, you make it through the entire school day and your after-school meeting for environmental club (save the trees!) in one piece. As you finally walk out of the school building, you exhale, automatically feeling lighter. At least the hard part of your day was done.

Now you just had to wait for Jake to finish soccer practice, which usually ended around the same time as your club, and he can drive you home, where you can continue being irritated with your day in the privacy of your own space.

You wait on the steps of the school’s entrance, waiting for a smiley Jake to come around the corner as he usually does at 5:30pm every Thursdays.

Yes, a smiling Jake is exactly what you needed to make your day ten times better, you conclude.

As if on cue, you hear a ding from your phone.

Jake [5:30PM]: ugh coach is extending practice for “team bonding”

Jake [5:30PM]: idek what team bonding is

Jake [5:31PM]: you ok if i cant drive you today? ://

It’s as if the universe decided to use you as its punching bag today.

You physically let out a distorted groan, not caring if anyone who happened to hear you thought you were a creature from out of this world, as you send him a text back.

y/n [5:32PM]: it’s all good lol have fun with tEaM bOnDiNg

Things were not all good. But no matter how upset you may be, you weren’t going to project your negative vibes onto Jake’s naturally positive ones. So you get up from the stone steps and begin your dreaded walk back home.

It’s freezing out. You should’ve known better to just throw on a hoodie and call it a day when it’s the middle of December. But then again, you figured by now you’d be in the comfort and warmth of Jake’s car and presence...not walking home in these freezing temperatures.

You think about Jake and how he’s probably currently suffering from not only his team bonding exercises (but really though, what are team bonding exercises?), but doing them in this weather as well. The poor boy.

You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by the sound of a car engine from behind you. When you don’t see it pass by you and instead hear it pull over and park next to the curb of the sidewalk you’re currently on, you automatically deduce that this is it, this is my time, I’m about to get kidnapped by whoever it is behind me but y/n, you should probably turn around and check first before you drive yourself insane in this inner dialogue.

You turn around and squint into the front window of the car. If it were a kidnapper, this is exactly what your mother told you not to do. Her exact words were: “Run, don’t look back, and scream bloody murder.”

Good thing it wasn’t. Just an innocent Sunghoon waving his hand at you, motioning you to get in.

“Sunghoon?” You approach his car and stop at the passenger side’s open window.

“y/n! It’s freezing out, I’ll drive you home c’mon,” he nods his head towards the passenger side door.

Well, how could you say no? Sunghoon owns a nice car. Like a nice car. Like car-seat-heaters-that-make-you-feel-like-you’re-physically-melting nice. Beats getting hypothermia outside, right?

“Why are you going home from school so late?” You ask as you settle into his car, instantly melting at the touch of the aforementioned heated seats.

“Debate club, actually. Decided I needed another personality trait other than ice skating,” he starts the engine and begins driving towards the direction of your neighborhood.

You laugh at his comment, you didn’t peg him as a debate kind of student. Quiet Sunghoon? Debate club? If 2 plus 2 is four...

“Hey, I don’t call you the Ice Prince for nothing! Also, don’t forget your other personality trait: forgetting your lunch every day.”

Sunghoon quickly glances over at you to send you a dirty look (because eyes on the road, kids!), which you return with a cheeky grin. “Need I remind you that was you today?”

“Touché,” you click your tongue.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the faint sound of Sunghoon's music in the background filling in the quietness.

You’re humming along until Sunghoon breaks the silence, “Did Jake get stuck at practice again?”

You don’t know why, but you swear you feel your heart beat faster at the mention of Jake’s name. No, that was always there right? Because you were with Sunghoon...your crush..obviously. Obviously.

Ignoring the feeling, you turn your attention towards the boy driving you.

“Oh yeah, something about team bonding. How’d you know?”

“Eh, I just figured since he wasn’t driving you home like he always does.” He turns into your neighborhood.

You nod at his answer.

“You two make a good couple.”

You whip your head at him. Did you hear him correctly?

“It was about time, really. You two have been ogling at one another for so long, Heeseung, Jay, and I almost placed bets on who would be the first to make a move.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, casually going on about how you and Jake make the cutest couple he’s ever seen.

You're frozen, unsure of what to think, let alone say.

You think to two days ago, when you started this entire fake relationship because of the very boy driving you home right now. The same boy who's complimenting you on your fake relationship. The same boy who's supposed to be jealous over that said relationship. The same boy you’re supposed to be crushing over.

But now...only a mere 48 hours later, you were finding yourself okay with the fact that he was happy for you. And for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you liked Sunghoon in the first place. Not saying he isn’t one to be crushed on, I mean, look at the guy.

Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you didn't feel nervous or giddy or..anything at all when you got into the car with Sunghoon. At least, not until Jake's name was mentioned. That's when you felt the butterflies. At the mention of Jake.

Jake.

Weird.

But before you can come to a conclusion on why you're feeling the way you do, Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts.

"Well, we're here! Say hi to your parents for me," he pulls into your driveway as you're still collecting your thoughts.

You give him a quick thanks and one last wave as you enter the front doors of your house.

Seeing that your only solution towards confusing feelings meant distracting yourself, distract yourself you did.

Even if it meant distracting yourself with your piling assignments.

The next time you look up from your work, it's suddenly way past sundown and a heavy storm has taken over. You’re surprised it hasn’t started flooding yet with the amount of rainfall you were hearing.

You check the time on your phone, the bright 8:16PM on the screen illuminating your dimly lit room. Seeing that neither of your parents have yet to be home from work, it looks like you were going to have to settle with some instant ramen for dinner tonight.

As you trudge down the stairs of your home, the sound of light knocking against the front door catches your attention. It's been a long day y/n, you're probably hearing things, it's definitely just the rain.

Nope. There it is again, but much louder. Much more urgent.

You contemplate any and all potential disasters that could happen from answering the door. Only a crazy person would be willing to go out in this hurricane-like weather to be frantically knocking on your door.

And so, you assume it has to be some psychopath trying to get into your house. Yes, there’s definitely no other logical explanation.

You scramble around your living room, looking for the next best weapon to defend you. Resorting to the flower vase your mother keeps on the table next to the front door, you hold it out in front of you, as if you're waiting for the door to burst open.

The knocking continues, gradually getting louder. You mentally curse at yourself for dropping out of the taekwondo class your dad signed you up for when you were younger.

Vase in hand, you swing open the door and brace for–

"Jake? What the fuck? Get in here, you're gonna get sick!"

You’re suddenly aware of how stupid you look, holding a light pink vase with a couple of orchids as your only form of self-defense...for it to only be your own best friend. You immediately put it back on the table as Jake quickly rushes past you and into your humble abode.

You close the door behind you and turn to face the soaked boy.

“I come bearing gifts, also known as take-out and hot chocolate from that one cafe you love. Also my company, if you’ll take it. I had a feeling you weren’t having the best day today,” he’s simply standing there, holding up a large brown paper bag in one hand, and a deliciously smelling cup of hot chocolate in the other, but you’re looking at him as if he bought you the Moon.

You stare in awe at the angel of a boy in front of you, silently thanking the stars for gifting you this amazing human being as your best friend. You don’t know what you did to deserve him.

You give him a soft smile. “Jake, you didn’t have to. It’s practically a shitstorm out there,” you cock your head towards the window, showcasing the downpour of cats and dogs outside. Jake stays by the entrance as you go down the hall and through your house’s linen closet to find a spare towel for the drenched boy.

“Nah it’s no big deal, really. Just fulfilling my duties as your loyal boyfriend,” he grins, even though you can’t see him. He likes calling himself that. Your boyfriend.

Jake continues to shake his messy hair to get the excess rain off, giving a mental apology to whoever is going to have to mop up the puddle forming on the floor due to his unannounced visit. Probably you.

Jake hears you laugh down the hall. “You’re really invested in your role, huh? Keep this up and you might actually trick me into believing you’re my actual boyfriend.”

Actual boyfriend? Jake likes the sound of that. Maybe he will keep this up then.

Jake doesn’t have much experience in acting, unless you count that time he played the role of Town Villager #3 in the third grade play, so he never found it as one of his interests. But playing the role of your boyfriend was one he was willing to fulfill for the rest of life, even if it was just for show.

Jake doesn’t respond to your comment, he’s instead self-aware of his blushing cheeks, thankful that you’re too busy rummaging through your linen closet to take notice.

“Plus, you didn’t have lunch today and I had feeling you were going to be too caught up in your work to feed yourself anything other than instant ramen,” he sets down his gifts to you on your living room’s coffee table as you come around the corner, fresh towel and new set of clothes in hand.

His eyes fall on the familiar looking pair of sweatpants and hoodie resting on the palms of your hands.

Hm. A little too familiar.

Then, it clicks in his head.

His eyes narrow at you as you giggle at his reaction, “Oh, so it takes me getting drenched in the rain for you to finally return my clothes that I’ve been missing!?”

“Hey! I’m not returning them, simply loaning them out to a friend who’s in dire need. You basically gifted them to me the second you left them here months ago.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Love you too,” you toss the clothes at him and take a seat on the floor around your coffee table, prepping the table with the boxes of Chinese food Jake supplied.

After Jake changes into the stolen dry clothes, he takes a seat next to an already-eating you at the coffee table.

“You. are. my lord and savior Sim Jaeyun,” you’re saying with your mouth full of fried rice. You sigh from satisfaction and rest your head against Jake’s shoulder as you continue chewing. He grins as he helps himself to his own serving of fried rice and orange chicken.

You look up at him from your spot, “How was team bonding today?”

Jake groans in response, clearly annoyed. “Stupid. I don’t get how doing trust falls and pyramid building is going to get us any closer. If anything, I almost FELL off that pyramid today!”

You don’t know why, but you find yourself admiring him and his soft features as he continues to rant about one of his teammates, specifically, the one who almost dropped him.

The way his messy hair, unkept from the rain ruining it, almost covers his eyes (but you tell yourself you like it this way, it looks more natural on him), the way the corners of his lips are always perked upwards (even when he’s ranting), the way his eyes sparkle whenever he’s truly passionate about whatever he’s talking about, the way his eyes look at you like–

“Stare much? Look, I get you can’t resist my good looks but at least be subtle about it,” he smirks at you as he takes another spoon of rice.

You break out of his trance and scoff at him.

“You’re cute when you rant,” you nonchalantly say as you move from your spot to mirror his actions and add more rice to your plate as well. Jake’s stills at your sudden comment, unsure of how to respond. Lucky for him, you’re distracted by the mountain of food on your plate to even notice the blushing mess of a boy next to you.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Or else I’d deck you right here and now for ditching me after school today.”

Anddd there goes the moment. Leave it to you to follow up a compliment with a threat of violence.

Jake finds it cute anyways. He always finds you cute.

Jake narrows his eyes and lightly shoves you before an apology is written all over his face. “Sorry about that by the way. I feel awful about making you walk home when it was freezing out.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Sunghoon gave me a ride, actually. Did you know he does debate? I guess you learn something new everyday,” you ramble, unaware of the boy next to you getting tense at the sudden mention of the other’s name.

Up until now, Jake’s completely forgotten about Sunghoon's involvement in this entire scheme. In fact, the past 48 hours with you have felt so normal, so comfortable, he almost forgot about the deal in the first place. “You think he has any clue?” Jake suddenly asks, referring to the plan.

You immediately know what he’s referring to, as Jake practically worded out your very own thoughts.

You shrug. “Not a single one. We’re practically William and Kate in his eyes. But honestly, that’s the least of my worries right now. I’m too distracted by my exams right now to care.”

Jake feels guilty for being satisfied with your answer. He’s 100% sure that if convincing Sunghoon took you two an entire lifetime of fake dating, he’d be all too willing to do it.

“Go to Jay’s party with me tomorrow,” he abruptly says, catching your attention as your mouth is stuffed. Cute.

He pokes your cheek. “It’ll get your mind off of work and plus, what’s more convincing than showing up to a party with your amazing boyfriend?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Jake doesn’t know where he gets his sudden surge of confidence. But he does know he loves calling himself your boyfriend...even if it’s for the time being.

Rolling your eyes and swatting his poking fingers away from your face, you ponder on his suggestion.

“You mean my annoying boyfriend,” you stick your tongue out at him. Jake takes a mental picture and hopes it never leaves his mind.

“But I guess you could be right. Maybe I can clear my head for the night before I study my ass off all weekend.”

Friday, December 11th

The party does not clear your mind.

If anything, it gives you enough headaches to last you at least until the end of high-school.

You come to this revelation as you and Jake approach Jay’s home, a luxurious mansion sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac, lined with similarly luxurious palaces, located in an equally luxurious neighborhood.

You come to this revelation when you can already feel the pounding bass of music as you walk up Jay’s driveway.

You come to this revelation when, not even two seconds after entering Jay’s front doors––

“You’re here!” A buzzed Jay shouts at the two of you, causing the both of you to contemplate your past choices that brought you here today. Jay definitely isn’t straight up drunk yet, but Jake still makes a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. Just in case.

The blonde-haired boy is quick to hand over two red solo cups of god knows what, to which you and Jake immediately put down on the nearest table after Jay walks away to greet the next incoming guests (you know, to not hurt his feelings).

You and Jake are lucky enough to have been around Jay and his parties long enough to know that going all out at these parties will not be pretty the next morning.

You cringe at the memory of last year, when you had to suffer from possibly the worst hangover of all hangovers after one of Jay’s parties. Jake will never let you forget how miserable you looked the next morning. His camera roll’s album titled “y/n blackmail pics” can vouch for that.

“Remind me again to never listen to you,” you almost have to shout at Jake over the thumping music. Jake laughs at your comment and tugs at your hand as he begins entering the house.

The two of you do your rounds of greetings to the people you know...and random underclassmen who you swear you have never seen before but somehow made it to this party. You’ve always questioned how Jay’s invite list worked. Maybe there isn’t one. That would explain how it looked like someone announced Jay was giving out free Teslas and the entire school got hold of the news.

“Thank god you guys are here,” you hear a voice come from behind the two of you as you guys leave the main room to enter the house’s smaller, but just as luxurious looking, den. You turn to see Heeseung with Sunghoon following closely behind, trying his best not to get swept away in the crowd of people.

The den is where you usually stayed during these parties. It’s not like there are rules of where people are allowed to party, by any means, but it’s like how a high-school’s cafeteria worked. There’s a mutual silent agreement of where everyone goes, and the den is where the party host and his friends went.

“Okay, is it just me, or is tonight’s party just a little...too..much?” Sunghoon asks as the four of you take your seats on the main couch of the room. Jake’s quick to make space for you next to him as you go to sit, but to his surprise, you find your home right on his lap.

“You said be convincing right?” you say into his ear as you settle yourself. Right. That’s totally why. Because you had to go along with the ruse. Obviously.

You shift a bit so you’re more facing sideways, not blocking off Jake’s line of vision as the boy himself is..well, calling him a rag doll might be excessive.

But he’s sure he looks like one right now, having lost all senses in his limbs, leaving him frozen underneath you.

Jake Sim is the epitome of politeness. He was raised in a family that taught him how to respectfully greet others, how to always offer food to others before eating it himself, how to properly treat a significant other. As a result, Jake grew up to be one of the sweetest, kindest, purest people to ever walk this earth.

(Relatively speaking, the earth is large, but so is Jake’s heart.)

But human-beings aren’t perfect, they must have a balance. A balance of pros and cons.

Sure, he can’t pack his own lunch and sometimes forgets to water the little succulent you gifted him that’s currently seated on his window sill. Sure, sometimes he’s too sweet for his own good, you know, like willing-to-be-your-fake-boyfriend too sweet. But aside from the minor details, Jake Sim doesn’t have many cons, no.

But he sure can be awkward.

And so because Jake Sim is sweet, kind, pure, and awkward, he is unsure of what to do with himself when you’re seated right on top of him.

As if you could read his befuddled mind, you take his arm that’s resting behind you to wrap around your waist as your support as you throw one of your arms around his shoulder. And throughout this entire adjustment, his widened eyes are staring right at you.

Bless this pure, pure boy.

Also bless the position you’re in, blocking the two other boys from directly seeing Jake’s face. Because if they were to catch glimpse of Jake’s expression right now, your cover might be blown, just like that. You’re lucky Heeseung and Sunghoon are distracted by another classmate who came up to them.

“Relax,” you sweetly laugh, cupping his chin with your free hand and lightly squeezing his cheeks. “You’re so adorably awkward.”

Jake pouts at you. “I am not awkward!”

“Right, and I’m totally dating you for real,” you playfully whisper at him, eliciting a poke at your waist in response.

Twenty minutes of people-watching-aka-“who do you think is gonna pass out first?”-from-your-spot-on-the-couch later, the four of you draw your attention to the rowdy party host you all have the honor of calling your friend––aka Jay––dancing (that is, if you call wildly swinging your limbs in all four directions dancing) in the middle of the den.

"Oh god, look at him," Sunghoon voices from besides you.

Heeseung's already filming the moment on his phone. Ah yes, technology. The best thing to ever happen to drunk teens' friends.

"He's so wasted," you throw your head back as you let out a laugh. “We should help the kid out.”

Poor Jay. He's not gonna hear the end of it after tonight.

"I don't know why he thinks these parties are such a good idea when he knows how trashed he's gonna be when he wakes up," Jake says, his hand naturally squeezing your waist as you giggle at his comment. "And how trashed the house will be."

Jay slumbers over to where the four of you are seated, and abruptly stops right in front of the couch.

"My best friends!" Jay happily cheers. “Having fun?”

“Watching you? Always,” you say to the boy who’s squeezing into a seat between you and Sunghoon, as if the small couch wasn’t already suffocating enough (and that’s with you on Jake’s lap).

“But for real though, you should probably lay off the drinks for now,” Heeseung insists. “For all our sakes.”

Sunghoon nods along and grabs the cup Jay’s currently nursing and sets it down where it’s out of Jay’s reach, much to his dismay. But the disappointment quickly leaves the dazed boy’s head, as his attention is now directed towards you and Jake.

“Well if it isn’t mom and dad,” Jay turns to face you and Jake, certainly amused by your seating arrangement.

“You know–” Jay points a finger at the two of you. “For a couple that’s certainly close, I haven’t seen you two kiss.”

Jake is immediately coughing, certainly not expecting that to come out of his friend’s mouth.

“Okay and your point is?” Jake frowns at Jay. If Jay wasn’t tipsy, Jake would’ve smacked the back of his head by now.

“I’m just saying...” the blonde responds, both hands up in the air as if Jake is accusing him of something, when in was, in fact, the opposite. “But nevermind, Jakey boy here is probably too innocent for such nonsense anyways.”

Yes, it’s confirmed. Once Jay sobers up tomorrow, Jake is driving over to his house (even though it’s a good ten minute drive from his own) just to smack him.

“What do you mean I’m too–”

Jake doesn’t finish his sentence. In fact, Jake doesn’t even remember what he was going to say.

Jake doesn’t think nor feel anything else other than your lips planted on his.

You’re pulling him in close, your hands cupping his face as his own are twitching on your waist, his mind flustered. You move your hands from his face to his neck, to which Jake immediately relaxes at.

Sure, you two are in the middle of a dumb high-school party, one filled with pounding music and shouting teenagers, but right now, in this moment, Jake can only feel you. And he doesn’t want the feeling to ever stop.

When you part, Jake’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, his own parted in shock. He thinks he might pass out right here and now. He thinks his heart might explode right here and now. He thinks he might lov-

“Happy?” you turn to a satisfied Jay, ignoring the looks of amusement from Heesung and Sunghoon besides him.

“Well,” you pat Jake’s leg as you get up from your spot. “I’m gonna get us some drinks. Punch only, of course.”

Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk away, his face tinted pink from the adrenaline of it all, his heart racing.

Jake thinks back to three days ago, when he told himself that this idea of yours was going to be all fine. After all, it was only going to be for one week. Afterwards, he can move on with his life as if nothing happened.

But fast forward 72 hours later, 72 hours after you and Jake started this act, 72 hours after Jake told himself it’ll be all fine, Jake knows he was poorly mistaken.

Because 72 hours later, in the middle of a party that reeked of the combined smell of alcohol and sweat, Jake knows one thing and one thing for sure.

He never wants to move on from the feeling of being with you. He never wants to move on from this.

From you.

He’s screwed.

Saturday, December 12th

When Jake wakes up, much later than he intended to, on Saturday morning, the first sensation he feels are his tingling lips, still in disbelief that they graced your own last night.

The second sensation being his pounding mind––it’s running through ten million thoughts at a time, telling him no last night wasn’t a dream.

Third: his heart beating so fast at the thought of you, he thinks he might beat out of his chest.

And fourth, a buzzing noise.

Jake blindly flounders his arm to the table beside him in hopes of finding the origin of the annoying sound, aka, his phone.

After knocking down multiple miscellaneous items on his nightstand (he makes a mental note to clean his room later), he successfully retrieves the item of search.

Jake squints at the bright screen, mind still cloudy from a mix of 1) being half-asleep, and 2) still processing what happened the night before.

y/n [11:10AM]: r u awake yet?

y/n [11:22AM]: imma take that as a no

y/n [11:35AM]: lemme know when ur up

jake [11:44AM]: just woke up sorry

jake [11:44AM]: are you okay? what’s up

y/n [11:45AM]: r u busy?

y/n [11:45AM]: kinda wanted to talk abt smth

jake [11:45AM]: uh well no im still in bed lmao

y/n [11:46AM]: cool im outside your door

Jake’s eyes widen as he processes your last few texts.

Talk? Outside his door?

Jake’s heart is nervously pounding as jumps out of bed and quickly puts on the first plaid flannel he finds. He scrambles to his mirror and gives his reflection a quick run-down.

He’s sporting your his favorite hoodie underneath the flannel that’s long overdue a wash and his tousled hair has seen better days, but he couldn't care less.

Before his mind can catch up to his actions, he’s rushing down the stairs, skipping two at a time and to this front door. Because he didn’t want to keep you waiting? Because he was too excited to see you? Maybe a mix of both. Definitely more of the latter, however.

He quickly runs a hand through his hair to try to fix it up as much as he can, to no avail, before opening the door to reveal you, sitting on the steps of his front porch.

“y/n,” he’s breathing heavily as you turn to greet him with your sweet smile he didn’t even realize he was missing. Is it possible to miss someone overnight? Jake concludes yes, it definitely is.

“Did you run down here or something?,” you question his out-of-breath state, a teasing tone laces the tip of your tongue.

“Or something,” Jake mutters as he closes the front door behind him to join you on the steps when you make no sign of moving. “Have you been out here all morning?”

“Not allll morning. I had a feeling you’d sleep in so I came around the time I first texted you. Would’ve knocked but didn’t wanna bother your family,” you hum, keeping your eyes trained on the peaceful scenery around you.

You’ve always loved Jake’s neighborhood, it brought you a sense of peace, a sense of home.

Or was that because it reminded you of Jake?

“You could never be a bother,” he quickly rebuttals as he takes his seat next to you on the steps.

You respond with a soft smile before turning your attention back to anything other than the boy next to you. Your mind seems to be lost in its own thoughts, Jake can tell by the distant look in your eyes.

The sound of birds chirping in the distance fills the silence that falls between the two of you.

Any other day, Jake would love this. He savors every second he’s with you, even if it’s just pure silence.

But this silence was different. It wasn’t the usual comforting, warm silence that the two of you share on a typical day. This one held tension, tension so thick that Jake doesn’t know where to begin thinking.

But here’s the thing. Jake doesn’t think.

Not when it comes to you.

He takes a deep breath. Rubs his hands together. Pats them on his lap. Turns towards you.

“Look, I-”

“I think I might like you.” The words come out of your mouth so fast, Jake’s positive he heard you wrong the first time around.

He whips his head to meet your eyes, your own already staring back at him, your bottom lip nervously tucked under your teeth.

“No, I––I do. I know I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job right now,” the words are all of the sudden tumbling out of your mouth as if your brain flipped a switch and isn’t able to turn it off. “In hindsight, I should’ve known better to fake date my own best friend. But these past few days made me realize how much I love being with you. And not like how I’m always with you 24/7 before this entire thing started, but being with you. I even started getting that weird, bubbly feeling in my stomach every time I so much as heard your name. And then last night at the party, I realized afterwards that I wouldn’t have kissed you if some part of me didn’t see you in that way. Even if it meant Jay would’ve been on our asses all night if I didn’t. So yeah.”

You finish with a deep breath and look up at him to meet his widened eyes. Silence.

Jake thought he was braindead during last week’s history quiz. Jake thought he was braindead when he had to cram a semester’s worth of chemistry content the night before his exam. Heck, Jake thought he was braindead when you first told him about your idea of a fake dating him. But no, this is braindead.

He’s finally hearing what he’s been dreaming of for so long, and of all times, now his brain decides to shut off.

“Are you..uh..are you gonna say anything?” You’re nervously fumbling with your hands, desperate to distract yourself with anything else apart from his silent stare.

"Why are you sorry?" Jake says before his mind can think of anything else. He doesn't pay attention to his thumping heart that's one look-from-you away from exploding right then and there. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you took the words right out of my mouth.”

Now you're staring at him with the wide eyes, the words processing in your mind.

Jake realizes he's waited too long to do this. A few years too long. He also realizes he shouldn't have put on that extra layer of a flannel. The nervous tension created by the two of you was suffocating enough, and being outside under the bright sun didn’t help.

"I like you too. God y/n, I like you too so much," Jake doesn't even care if his words are all sorts of messed up right now. He just needs you to get the idea. "I have for a while now.”

You let out a relieved sigh, ecstasy rushing through your blood. “Really? I think I have for a while too. I’m so stupid, it took me so long to realize it. It didn’t hit me until I realized how I felt around you, compared to the guy I’m supposed to actually have a crush on.”

Jake lets out a laugh, the tension immediately dissolving. “Hey, if it wasn’t for Sunghoon, I don’t think we’d be here right now.”

“You’re right, I’m too oblivious and you’re too awkward to actually make a move,” you wink at him. If his heart wasn’t fluttering at the sight of you, on his porch on a Saturday morning, confessing your feelings to him, Jake probably would’ve lightly shoved you away.

Instead, he’s turning to you with the most endeared look on his face, and you’re blushing underneath his gaze.

“What? Stare much?” You giggle, quoting the boy himself as you shyly duck your head to avoid his stare.

Jake gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards his, and before you can process what’s happening, he suddenly meets your lips with his own, closing the gap between you two.

Jake thinks if the ground underneath him right now decided to open up and swallow him whole, he’d die happily.

Jake smiles against you, feeling comfort in ways he’ll never be able to achieve without you.

Your hands instinctively find their way into his hair, as one of his rests below your ear, thumb softly caressing your cheek, the other pulling you in by the waist. He’s naturally leaning into you, gravitating towards your warmth, unable to stop the giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach.

He doesn’t think the feeling will ever go away.

When you pull away to catch your breath, you rest your head against the nook of his neck, basking in his presence as his arms both find their way around your waist. You sigh in pleasure.

“Remember at the beginning of all of this, when you told me ‘Just try not to fall in love with me?’” Jake gently says. Jake feels the slight nod you give against his shoulder as you hum in response.

Jake whispers two more words into your ear, filling you with happiness and warmth you know you won’t be able to find through anyone––or anything––else.

“Too late.”

✰ if you made it ‘til the end, ily :’)))))

2K notes · View notes

frogtanii · 4 years

Text

embarrassed ft. matsukawa issei

wc. 2.7k (???)

warnings. SMUT, not proofread lol, mutual pining (??), friends to lovers (???), cunnilingus lmao, no dom/sub dynamics, well actually dom&sub issei if you squint rlly hard hehe, kinda cute, embarrassed issei <3, also one (1) WAP reference

an. it’s 2:30 am and i have no idea why i wrote this and who for???? i got the idea from a 🦋😳🙈✨ audio and was immediately inspired idk, sorry if it’s bad i lichrally have no idea since i didn’t read it after it was done :p

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

it wasn’t like matsukawa issei to be embarrassed.

he was handsome, intelligent, and funny, not to mention he never left women wanting after a night with him.

issei was the entire package and he knew it.

beyond superficiality though, he was happy with his life. he had a great group of friends, a nice apartment all to himself and a completely normal job.

yes, being a funeral home employee wasn’t the most glamorous career a person could have but he was happy. besides, it never deterred him from getting a warm body to sleep with which was a win in his book.

all in all? his life was great!

so why did he have to go and screw it all up?

issei blames makki and the dumb flyer for the reason his life went to shit. (maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but let him have his oikawa moment.)

he was minding his own business when his best friend (recently turned enemy) burst through his apartment door with a piece of paper in his hand and a fire in his eyes.

“dude, look at this!” issei rolled his eyes, putting down his casket catalogue and turning to meet takahiro’s gaze.

“why hello to you too. remind me why i gave you a key again?”

“because you love me and because i bring shit like this to you. look!” with another long and suspiciously tooru-like sigh, issei took the crumpled paper from makki and immediately stopped in his tracks.

“makki... what the fuck is this?”

written in large pink letters and a flowery, borderline illegible font was the name, coffee and cunnilingus. upon further inspection and careful reading, it revealed itself to be a little cafe opening up about 10 minutes from issei’s apartment complex who were looking to hire “young, attractive men who are proficient at eating pussy.”

issei could feel his eyes narrow and his mouth drop open in shock as he repeated his question. “the fuck is this?”

makki shook his head excitedly, tapping to another portion of the flyer that matsukawa had not yet read. “no, no dude, just look at how much they’re paying per hour.” issei begrudgingly obliged but the minute his eyes touched the (Massive™) number, he felt a little faint.

it was a lot of money. more than the funeral home was paying, that’s for sure. with that kind of money he could move out of this suddenly dingy seeming apartment and into a nice flat in the city were he’d always wanted to live. maybe he could buy himself a nice watch or even a high-end suit to replace the one from his highschool graduation (aka the only suit he owns). with that kind of money, he could erase his student debt 3 years ahead of schedule and get his mom into a nicer place.

it was these thoughts that clouded issei’s head as he found himself standing in front of a cute looking building, matching the address on the flyer. i’ll only be working part time, he thought as he pushed the door open to reveal an equally impressing interior with curtained booths and a wide variety of coffee on the menu. i’m only doing it for extra money, he thought as he shook the owner’s hand after he finished his successful interview. no one can ever know, he thought as he dressed himself in the uniform on his first day.

thus began issei’s super secret side hustle where he ate women out for cash.

sounds worse when you say it outright but it was just working. he was good at it, the women liked him, and he was making BANK. still, there were challenges. some women refused to bathe before coming and he would have to send them to the restroom to freshen up which absolutely ruined his chances for a good tip. some women would become heavily infatuated with him, believing that they were in some sort of forbidden romance. he learned to turn them down quick and easy to avoid conflict in the workplace which furthered his space as a boss favorite. but his hardest challenge by far was meeting you.

you were one of hanamaki’s friends, having met him at one of his brief stints in retail on his search for a job. he had gotten fired but you both stayed in touch after he left, becoming really close, really fast.

issei had met you first when takahiro had invited you to the biweekly seijoh third-years movie night. at first, he had been pissed as an “outsider” had never been invited before and he was worried you’d ruin the vibe, especially since it was the first time in months that oikawa would be able to join them. makki vouched for you through and through and the other boys were okay with it so you were in. the second he met you, all his fears of awkwardness and discomfort faded away.

you were great.

you were hilarious, pretty, and could keep up with makki’s harsh jokes, tooru’s diva attitude, iwa’s tendency to hit (hard), and issei’s original disdain. by the end of the night, he had completely forgotten why he didn’t want you there in the first place.

from then on, you were a staple in their little friend group. you were added to the groupchat where you balanced memes with spouts of deep wisdom and you were ever so reliable, always there if any of them needed it.

yeah, you were great. that’s where the problems started.

issei’s feelings for you quickly went from platonic to romantic, faster than you can say godzilla. he hadn’t even recognized that he was falling for you until it was way too late. normally, he wouldn’t have a problem confessing to you but because of his newly found ...occupation, he was too nervous. how would you take it that he was basically a glorified prostitute? ok, that wasn’t exactly what he did but still! you’d probably find him disgusting and horrible and leave the friend group forever. then he’d have to deal with oikawa’s senseless whining and makki’s subtle digs, blaming him for your departure. yeah, he wasn’t going to put himself through that so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

too bad he didn’t have any control over makki’s.

you and takahiro had been on a little friend-date at mcdonald’s after you’d had a long and frustrating shift. you just wanted to vent, expressing your general hate for your job and desperate need for stress relief.

that’s when makki opened his (big, stupid) mouth and suggested that you visit a little place called coffee and cunnilingus. you nearly choked on your fries at the title before quickly pressing him for details. thankfully, he had the decency not to expose that issei worked there but he had not done a good enough job convincing you not to go there. not that it would’ve mattered. your curiosity was peaked and your libido was high so why not try out the weird cafe where you let a complete stranger stick his tongue inside you?

it was settled. you were going to go and you were going to get eaten out and you were going to like it!

or at least that is what you repeated in your head as you walked to the address on your phone before taking a deep breath and walking inside.

“hello, welcome to coffee and cunnilingus, how might i pleasure you this afterno— yn?” issei’s eyes widened as they met your equally bewildered ones, the both of you staring at each other in shock.

“matsukawa-san, is everything alright?” a large hand rested on issei’s shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts and forcing him to break (horrified) eye contact with you and move it onto his boss who was now looking down on him menacingly.

“y-yes sir, everything is fine!” he squeaked out, hating the way his voice cracked on his first syllable. his boss looked at him suspiciously but thankfully didn’t press.

“well, since nothing is wrong, take this beautiful young woman to a booth where you will assist her!” the hand resting on issei’s shoulder slowly squeezed, making him wince in pain. the pain was only an afterthought though to the larger implication of his boss’ words. he’s going to assist you. assist as in pleasure. pleasure as in eat you out.

holy shit, you were going to pass out.

apparently, issei had the same thought process as you, his face whitening like a sheet. “m-me? but sir i-“

“do your job matsukawa-san!” his boss cut him off with a forced smile. all issei could do was nod and silently lead you off to a closed booth near the back or lose his job. you stayed close behind him but remained quiet, absolutely terrified of breaking the silence and ruining the bubble you had created.

you finally reached the booth in question. issei gently opened the curtain and motioned for you to get it, to which you obliged and he followed just behind.

the moment the curtain closed, you were enveloped in an awkward silence and tense atmosphere, neither of you speaking or looking at one another for fear of one of you running out. after what felt like hours, you opened your mouth to speak, not realizing issei had thought the same thing.

“so-“

“i-“

you finally made eye contact with him and burst into the laughter, the tension quickly broken. it took a full minute or two for the both of you to calm down, the absurdity of the entire situation finally catching up with you.

“you first,” issei said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes while fixing you with an intense gaze swirled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but it made butterflies bubble up in your stomach. you quickly turned your gaze to the comfortable seat beneath you, your fingers playing with the red stitching while you thought of what you had wanted to say.

“are you any good?” your hand flew up to cover your mouth as your cheeks filled with heat, the embarrassment of your words catching up to you. you hadn’t meant to say that but when you opened your mouth to apologize, you were stopped in your tracks by the lovely sound of issei’s full-bodied laughter filling the tiny booth.

you had heard it just moments earlier but without the sound of your own giggles drowning it out, you couldn’t help but think that he sounded beautiful. you basked in the sound as it slowly trailed off back into silence. now it was you doing the staring making issei look off with a red face and a heart threatening to pound out of his chest.

“y-yeah i’m pretty good. you want to try? me, i mean?” his words nearly leave you gasping, your brain working overtime to try and comprehend what he was saying to you.

“only if y-you want to? what do you want issei?” you whispered, suddenly unable to find your voice. you wanted this to be okay for him too; you didn’t want him to be uncomfortable even though you wanted him more than you could verbally express. despite the embarrassment and fear of rejection lingering under your skin, you stared at him, awaiting his answer. a tiny minuscule nod came from him and you internally shook your head. you needed to hear him.

“i need you to say it, issei.” your words, while quiet, were firm and issei felt himself hardening in his uniform slacks. he swallowed in his increasingly drying mouth before opening his mouth to respond.

“i want to eat your pussy. can i?”

shit.

your own voice was stolen by his words and all you could give him was a nod before he was on you.

issei didn’t waste any time falling to his knees, pulling your panties down, and hiking your skirt up to your stomach, revealing your glistening folds to his hungering eyes.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” is all the warning you get before he’s licking a long stripe up you from entrance to clit before he’s sucking the hard, sensitive nub into his mouth. your eyes immediately rolled back into your head, your hips instinctively bucking up into his mouth while a gasped moan of issei left your lips.

if he could bottle your moans and use them whenever he pleased, he would, the sound sending another pulse of arousal to his already hard cock. he was tempted to reach down and pull himself out of his trousers but he denied himself. this was about you; you and your wet ass pussy.

issei continued his ministrations on your clit, circling it with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth while his hand was ready to get busy. it crept up your thigh, sending shivers down your spine until it reached your sopping entrance, two of his fingers teasing the slit before delving in to the third knuckle.

the moan you let out is borderline animalistic as your body sends another wave of slick pulsing out over his hand. he groaned into your cunt at your tightness, his mind only imagining him deep within you while you squeeze him for all he’s got.

the amount of slick you produced made it easy for him to add a third finger, thrusting them in and out while also crooking them upwards in search for your special spot that would have you seeing stars. it took him a little prodding but he knew he found it when your back arched, your hand came down into his hair, and you whimpered out a string of curses.

“that’s it baby, cmon, you’re doing so well, wanna see you come apart for me,” he all but growled against your clit before delving back in with a higher intensity, his desperation for you to come winning out his desire to tease you and drag this out as long as possible.

with his incessant pressure on your g-spot and his lips suctioned around your clit, it wasn’t long before he got what he wanted.

“isseiisseiisseiissei, i’m coming, i’m coming-oh fuck!” you screamed as you clenched and gushed all over his fingers, your entire body caving in with the intensity of your orgasm. his fingers were practically forced from your spasming cunt but they quickly found a place rubbing your nub side to side as fast as possible. the overwhelming urge to pee came over you and you shook your head, trying to push his hand away.

“no, no, give it to me, i know you can,” issei groaned, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. the pleasure he was giving came to a head at his words and you felt a clear liquid escape from your tired, overstimulated cunt, your mouth opening in a silent moan before collapsing back on the seat.

the sight proved to be too much for issei as he felt his body tense, his own orgasm washing over him as he emptied himself into his boxers. he fell back onto the ground, in shock of himself coming entirely untouched. he’d never done it before but of course it was you that would bring it out of him. a smile spread across his face at the thought, his head tilting back as he laughed, catching the attention of your worn body.

“what’re y’laughing at?” you slurred, cringing a little at how fucked out you sounded but issei didn’t seem to mind, his face glowing while covered in your slick and cum.

“nothing, nothing, but uh, i have a question.” you felt your heart leap to your chest, your mind already racing with the possibilities. he’s going to say this was a mistake, that we’re just better off as friends. oh god, what if he says i stunk? or the worst pussy he’s ever had? or what if—

“want to go and get a coffee?” he asked, the smile still plastered on his face but with an uncharacteristic hint of shyness. the butterflies were back in your stomach as you shyly nodded before allowing him to help clean you up and standing, not missing how he slipped your lacy underwear deep into one of his pockets.

issei’s hand found its way into yours as he said goodbye to his coworkers and boss before leading you out of the cafe, watching you tell an animated retelling of the bullshit that occurred at your job with a warm grin on his face and pink cheeks.

it might not be like matsukawa issei to be embarrassed but if it resulted in getting you by his side? he would do it again and again.

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nellie-elizabeth · 2 years

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The Legend of Vox Machina: The Tide of Bone (1x09)

Anna Ripley... hey girl hey. Perfect episode is pretty much perfect...

Cons:

I loved seeing the backstory with Delilah and Sylas, I really did, but once again I think of this through the eyes of someone new to the story and I feel like it would be kind of confusing. Yes, Sylas and Delilah visually look a little bit different, but there's nothing at first to indicate where or when they are. If I didn't already know, I might not have placed this as a flashback right away. I think even a "x-years-earlier" text over the image would have been sufficient to solve for this, and maybe it's not as confusing as I'm making it out to be, but I did notice that one thing.

Pros:

As I said, I did love the Briarwood flashback, though. That's what's beautiful about the these villains. They will fucking go so hard for each other. Delilah will turn to dark magic without thinking twice, and Sylas will be like "hell yeah, I'm cool with it." Their love for each other is spooky in its intensity, but it also adds this amazing dark romance to their villainy, so that at certain moments you kinda... root for them to win a lil' bit. In the best way. Also I keep forgetting Matt is Sylas, he's doing such an astounding job with the performance. "Trust in the Whispered One, for we are his blood" is such a metal villain line for a cartoon baddie, I'm kind of obsessed with it.

Showing the corpses on the Sun Tree waking up and becoming zombies... what a way to start the episode proper! They really milked the creepiness and inherent tragedy of that dead little girl for all it was worth, didn't they. The imagery throughout the whole episode was gruesome and pulled no punches, which is exactly what I've come to expect from this show. It makes the moments of triumph for our heroes shine all the brighter!

Let's start with Keyleth and Vax! We've got Keyleth being a big damn hero and Vax being the one in need of saving, which is perfect. As Vax says, they "make a pretty good team", and it's super cute to see. The two of them holding their own in battle is giving me all the feels! And of course Keyleth later gets a bad-ass moment that stalls their enemies, shoving ice at them and freezing the hoard in place. Vax is duly impressed, and Vex is duly impatient with his awe... very true to the campaign dynamic, of course. Vax keeps calling her Kiki and my heart skips a beat every single time.

And then: "hey, you know I'm in love with you, right?" Simply ICONIC moment from the stream. They change the circumstances around quite a bit, but I honestly think it works really well. There, it was in the aftermath of the Anders fight, when things had reached a moment of calm. Here, it's the somewhat stereotypical "we might be about to die so I need to confess" thing, which just feeds into Keyleth's incredulous reaction all the better. It's not exactly the time for big dramatic love conversations, Vax! She has a dang point. I liked that there was a hint of humor here with her response, but you can tell that she was shocked and moved by his declaration, and they lean in, clearly drawn to one another... it's cute as fuck, it's romantic as fuck, I am all about it and can't wait to see what else happens.

And then let's turn to Percy and Archie... oof. The start of this episode sets up Archie's inevitable demise, as Percy and Archie have a bit of a back-and-forth about who is supposed to be leading this rebellion. Percy has doubt that he's the right person for the job. Archie tries to hand him power, and he rejects it. Cass encourages him to take charge as the rightful heir of Whitestone, and he can't quite take that step. We know he has to have that moment of taking authority, and unfortunately...

It takes Archie's death to make it happen. God, that death scene. It was a little obvious that it was coming, they did the cliché thing where they were quipping and happily talking about old times in the midst of battle, right before he gets SLICED IN HALF by Vedmire... but I didn't mind that it was a little predictable. It just amped up my dread all the more for losing this character. I am so surprised by how much they made me care about Archie in so short a time. I really was digging the childhood best friends vibe, and his death actually impacted me quite a bit.

And so it's in the aftermath of this tragedy, as the bedraggled resistance are gathering to make a last stand against the hoard, that we get the first recitation of Percy's full name: Lord Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III. "Today is for Archie, for the de Rolos, for Whitestone!" This was a great moment, and I love that it wasn't too overblown? Like, it was big, and people cheered, and it seemed to help with morale, but Taliesin gave it a somewhat muted but still firm delivery that really worked for me. He's not necessarily sure leadership is what he wants, but he'll take it now it's on hand. And then Grog rounds it out quite nicely with: "let's kill fucking everything!"

Vex and Percy have a couple moments I want to highlight, although their stuff is more in the background, less obvious a focus than Keyleth and Vax. She's the one who pulls him away from the fight when he's frozen in shock at Archie's death. She also reinforces what Archie and Cass have both been saying, as she tells him: "Well, fearless leader? Lead!" I love these two. Their support and belief in one another is something really special.

And of course in the Perc'ildan corner, a couple moments... first is right before we get Bad News in action, when Vax says: "yeah, I don't mean to rush you..." and Percy says "then don't." I just loved their delivery there, they have this relationship that's filled with just so much heat, not necessarily in a good way all the time, but it's simmering underneath. And then a moment that I am honestly obsessed with. They are surrounded, it's just before they're going to get their deus ex machina moment with Pike, and they're retreating to the Sun Tree. Vax pulls Percy up into the root system, and they stand there holding hands as they speak of how it's an honor to fight alongside each other, and give these little nods of acknowledgment. I just... love that things like this have made it into the show! There are all the obvious relationships that need development, but then there are the ones that could have taken a backseat and instead are getting more of a spotlight than I ever could have hoped... Vax and Percy, my beloved somewhat rarepair...

Scanlan had a great little arc in this episode as well. I was more nervous about Scanlan after the beginning of the show than I was about the others, just because he's So Much, but they've managed to give him a lot of humanity. He's more than the comic relief, and the amount that everyone cares about him is extremely touching. He's panicking in the hideout, scared of the undead, and Vex smacks him, which of course he says is kind of hot... but then when he gets grabbed by the zombie, Grog yells in fear, Vax goes in for the kill, Vex rushes to his side, Keyleth mournfully tells him she can't heal the necrosis, Grog offers to cut off his arm. Everyone just cares so deeply for everyone else and I can't believe how well they're doing the found family vibes! They even have this moment of joking, which to me reads as Vex trying to reassure/buck up Scanlan's spirits: "Could be worse," she says. "How?" "Could be my arm." Just excellent.

Scanlan and Vedmire get a little reprise of their conflict, and this time Scanlan is forced to run. With his arm out for the count, his magical options are severely limited until he gets healed later on. I like this little repetition from episode seven, and the way Archie dies saving Scanlan from Vedmire. It makes sense that those two have this little interplay of conflict, but that the town of Whitestone collectively gets the kill on Vedmire in the end, after Percy gets one shot in on Archie's behalf. A great wrap-up to that side villain.

PIKE! 'Sup, indeed! So this is what I was talking about last episode with like... maybe I didn't like some of the stuff with Pike, maybe I didn't quite think the buildup worked right, but the payoff is undeniably amazing. How can you not love a gal who shows up as an astral projection, kills a bunch of bad guys with a divine glow of godly power, heals Scanlan's arm, jokingly accepts a marriage proposal, and then buffs the entire rebellion's weapons with holy power to make it a fair fight? Fucking incredible.

I can't believe they actually included the "marry me" / "okay, let's do it. Right now" moment. That was such a funny thing in the stream and it worked so well here. It's little things like this that tell me how much work and love everyone is pouring into making this show something for the community to enjoy. It's not just the broad strokes of the plot, it's a show made up of fan-favorite moments left and right, while still providing something new and fresh.

Pike also gets the line: "May your weapons shine with the divine virtue of the Everlight. Now go crush some fucking heads!" That's the perfect wrap-up of what she's learned from the Everlight, that she can be the crushing heads girl and the divine virtue girl at the same time. We love to see it.

As always, the fight sequences are impressing me not just in their scope and violence, but in the little moments between the characters. Vex and Vax spend most of these episodes developing relationships with other characters. We've got both of them and their moments with Percy. You've got Vax and Keyleth, Vex and Scanlan... but then we get the combo attack here, with Vex helping Vax with the giant kill. Meanwhile Scanlan, newly healed from his necrosis by Pike, does the fast ball special by throwing Grog up using Scanlan's Hand, and we get that competitive spirit with Vax and Grog each taking down a giant, with Vax bringing his to the ground first and claiming victory. How very Legolas and Gimli of them, I love it.

Once again, we've got an episode chalk full of action and energy and I felt the frenetic pace of it all the way through. I can't even imagine how difficult this would have been to animate, considering it's not just the seven main characters, but the entirety of Whitestone rising up. Archie and the rebels, Yennen and her flock coming in to join the fray, fighting against a whole dang army of the dead. I was so happy with how it turned out. I have to imagine this was the most expensive episode they had to animate.

And then that ending. They sneak in through the hidden tunnel of the castle. We get a cute little moment with Percy and Cass... Percy apologizing for not coming back for her. This moment is rife with so much pain and also dread. Cass has been through so much. Will it really be that easy? I love the mingled hope and also dejection of Percy's whole arc this season. He's been bent on revenge and revenge only for so long, but he accidentally picked up a group of people he actually cares about, and now he's got a sister as well? What does that mean for his goals moving forward? It's so fascinating and well done!

We meet a certain lady in a certain dungeon, and if you haven't seen the show before I'm not spoiling much to say that this is Anna Ripley, and we Love to Hate Her, y'all. Percy mentioned her briefly before, as one of the names on the List, and next week we're going to get to see this shit played out in fascinating detail. They shot it so well, with the entirety of Vox Machina plus Cassandra all crowded around the dungeon cell, Vax helping Anna to escape. They think she's an enemy of the Briarwoods and thus a potential ally of theirs, so when Percy storms forward, the demonic glint in his eyes, mask appearing seemingly from nowhere, gun in hand, it hits as an extra shock, sort of a moment of oh no, not again... and then we end with Keyleth calling out to Percy, telling him to stop...

I can't believe that's the end of the episode! I am suffering! I know what happens and I'm still suffering, that's how fucking good this is!!!

Oh, as a final note, the Pike song during the credits was great! We get some Pike backstory thrown in there for flavor, which is such a fun way of doing things... I hope we get more of those in future seasons, just rounding out aspects of the cast that we might not get to see discussed.

Dang, this show is good, y'all.

9.5/10

#review #tlovm review #tlovm #the legend of vox machina #critical role

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

DESPERADO - 3

Helen and August are back. Sorry it took me a while to write the next chapter but our holidays got in the way of writing. Anyway, here it is and it's getting a little steamy. I somehow struggled with writing the smut this time, it was somewhat hard to find the right balance in their dynamics but I think it turned out fine in the end. I hope you like it, too. As you know, writers live off validation, so comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated 💜

Pairing: Augut Walker x OFC (Helen Nichols)

Summary: August has survived the fight with Ethan Hunt and the fall from the cliff. A few lucky coincidences saved his life and he ends up with a woman that saves him and gives him shelter in her little hermit hut. He is at a turning point in his life. What is he going to do?

Word count: ~ 3.1 k

Warnings: Description of injuries, smut, NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal sex

NO BETA! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

Credits: I don’t own August Walker and anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claim Helen: Rooney Mara

You can find parts 1 and 2 and my other fics on my masterlist.

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc

Let's go...

***************

Desperado

Oh, you ain't gettin' no younger

Your pain and your hunger

They're drivin' you home

Freedom, oh freedom

Well that's just some people talkin'

Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone

From Desperado by The Eagles, Lyrics: Don Henley, Glenn Frey

"She's dead. She died in an accident. She was gone. I stayed."

No matter how hard August tried to find out more about Allison, there was no way to make Helen tell him anything else but these simple basics. She'd worked hard on building a protective wall around that part of her heart and her mind, she had closed off the grief and the feeling of guilt and she wasn't willing to hand over the key to her memories to a random stranger who was lying about his identity.

Besides August's futile attempts to pry into Helen's past the next two weeks were quite harmonious. While Helen had decided to ignore the fact that Austin Peters was a fake persona to avoid any kinds of complications, August had decided to accept the inevitable and to be a nice houseguest and he grudgingly let Helen take care of him. They soon got used to the fact that her help made them share pretty intimate moments and August had a hard time granting her access to his personal space, letting her literally touch him everywhere when she had to treat his wounds or help him get dressed and undressed, but he also watched her blush and shy away from him with fiendish joy.

It made him feel better about his face that his body obviously still had a significant effect on Helen and he couldn't deny that seeing her running around in her underwear or imagining her standing in the shower naked had a certain effect on him too. And it wasn't only physical, he really started to like her. She was smart and tough but also witty and cheeky sometimes, and it was hard for him to admit to himself that he enjoyed her company. Stockholm syndrome for sure, he tried to tell himself but in the back of his mind he knew the truth.

He had no idea that Helen felt the same and that her aloof manner was mostly facade. Behind the mask of indifference she was growing warm feelings for him. Warm, foolish, irrational feelings for a man she actually knew nothing about and who was involved in an FBI investigation. She blamed her hunger for interpersonal interactions and warmth that resulted from her self-chosen isolation for these surfacing emotions and did her best to ignore them.

What was really bothering Helen most after only a few days was the sleeping situation. Despite the fact that the there-is-only-one-bed-trope was everything from hot to romantic in theory it was only leading to back pain in reality. August kept on offering to sleep on the couch but she wouldn't let him. He needed a comfortable place to sleep and her sofa was hardly big enough for her. A tall man like him wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep on it. So after 14 nights she decided to do something about it. She had made a call in the morning, August had heard her muffled voice from the kitchen when he was in the bathroom, and now a car was driving up to the hut. He started to panic.

"Who's that?"

He looked at Helen and she gave him a shrug.

"A friend. He's bringing me a folding bed, called him this morning. I'm not going to survive another night on the couch."

A car door was slammed shut with a thud and foot steps were coming closer to the front door.

"He can't come in, Helen", August whispered, giving her a pleading glance. She raised an eyebrow.

"Why's that?"

"He mustn't see me. Please."

Helen eyed him up and down and when it knocked August held his breath, his heart racing. She turned to the door without another word and August grabbed a large knife from the knife block before hiding in the corner of the room that wasn't visible from the entrance. Helen flinched when she realized that he'd armed himself but after taking a deep breath she opened the door with a nonchalant smile.

"Naseer. Hi. That was quick."

"Hi Helen. Yeah, it sounded urgent on the phone and you can't sleep in a broken bed so I thought I better bring you the folding bed as soon as possible."

August tried to imagine the man who belonged to the pleasant, warm voice. His English was very good but he clearly wasn't a native speaker. Someone from the village he guessed. From the village he would have erased without batting an eyelid just two weeks ago. His stomach twisted at the thought and it filled him with anger that he seemed to evolve something like a conscience lately.

"That's really kind of you."

He could hear the smile in Helen's voice.

"Let me help you unload it."

"No, I'll go and get it. Just tell me where to put it."

"Just put it here on the porch. I'll take care of it later."

Naseer gave Helen a funny look and she knew he was thinking she was acting strange but she could hardly let him walk inside the hut where August was awaiting him with a knife. She watched her only friend walk to his truck, grabbing the bed from the loading space and carrying it to the house.

"It's no problem to carry it inside", he said when he was standing in front of Helen again. "I could also fix your bed. I built it, it shouldn't be hard to replace a broken part."

He built it? The guy built Helen's bed? August started to wonder what kind of friend he was and why the question bothered him so much.

"No! No, that won't be necessary, Naseer."

Christ, woman, don't talk so fast. Her nervousness was showing in her voice and August was worried he might really have to use that fucking knife.

"Really, it's fine...I'm quite busy right now. In the middle of a creative phase...you know...kissed by the muse."

Good girl, back on track. August's heart rate went back to normal.

"You're working on your book again? That's great, Hel."

Hel? He rolled his eyes, annoyed and impatient.

"Yeah, it really is. My agent is pretty relieved too, my writer's block made him quite nervous. But I'm working almost non-stop on it...so yeah."

She shrugged with a sheepish grin, feeling terrible for lying to him.

"Is that why you needed all those supplies? Because you don't want to leave for grocery shopping in the next few weeks? Your truck was loaded when we met the other day."

"Exactly."

"I see...well…"

"Yeah…"

"I better get going then. Let you work in peace…"

"Thanks for stopping by, Naseer."

"Anytime. You know you can always call me when something's wrong or when you need help, right?"

"Of course." Her laugh sounded fake and nervous and for a moment she thought Naseer was going to ask her what was going on but he only gave her a worried look before he left. Helen let out a long sigh of relief, turned around and closed the door behind her.

"He's gone. You can put that away." She pointed at the knife August clung to, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

"What?" He looked at her angrily, putting the knife back in the knife block. "I just wanted to be prepared."

Helen let out a snort. "For what? Naseer attacking an injured stranger?"

"I don't know him."

"But I do. He's a friend and you made me act rude without a reason."

"A friend, huh? Hel?" August said in a mocking tone wiggling his eyebrows. He tried to be cheeky and make her laugh to ease the tension but he knew it was a stupid move as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Yes. A friend. Austin."

She was still being deadly serious and stressed his false name pointedly crossing her arms in front of her chest. August didn't know what to say or do to keep the situation from escalating so he just shrugged.

"Fine."

"Fine? That's all you have to say? For fucks sake...tell me why you didn't want Naseer to see you. Explain to me why you armed yourself with a knife, hiding in a dark corner of my house. My fucking house, goddamn…in which you found shelter..." She was furious now and he made a step towards her, his hands raised up in surrender. "Okay, listen, Helen."

"I'm all ears."

"As I said, it was just taking precautions. I'm a mistrustful person, made some bad experiences in the past and got hurt too often."

"Bullshit." She shook her head. "Don't try to tug at my heartstrings. Just tell me the truth."

August took a deep breath, he was getting frustrated and annoyed by her insistence.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, okay? Let's just leave it at that or…"

“Or what? Are you going to kill me?”

Her voice was full of sarcasm but her eyes showed him that a part of her was scared of him, wondering what he was capable of. The logical answer to her question would have been yes. His answer should have been yes, but when he said no, when he denied it, August meant it. He wasn't going to kill her nor would he ever hurt her.

“No, but I still can’t tell you.”

She could tell by the expression on his face that he was torn. He wanted to open up to her, but he felt like he couldn't.

“Just give me something. A little part of the truth to help me understand who you are, where you’re coming from and what you`re up to."

“That’s not so easy, Helen. You might not like what you’re going to hear.”

He gave her a shrug and something that was supposed to be a smile.

“I don’t care. August.”

He blinked repeatedly. “Sorry?”

“Yes...August.” She rolled her eyes. “I know that you've been lying to me from day one."

He got up and started to pace the hut, still hobbling a little, though his ankle was much better. He wasn’t really worried just debating with himself. After a while he stopped by the window, staring outside. “You're right. My name is August. August Walker.”

"Thanks, but I already know that much", Helen snapped.

"How did you find out about my name?" He asked as calmly as his fluttering nerves allowed it, turning around to look her in the eyes.

"Why did you lie to me?" Helen threw him a challenging look.

"How much do you know?" August was not willing to leave his questions unanswered.

"Why. Did. You. Lie. To. Me?" Helen shouted at him.

"It's none of your fucking business", he yelled back.

Helen laughed out loud.

"It's none of my business? Are you kidding me? I saved you. I let you stay in my house, sleep in my bed, I treat your wounds, I take care of you, give you shelter, I've helped you in every possible way, no matter how many of my personal boundaries have been transgressed and now you're seriously telling me that it's none of my business that you've lied to me all this fucking time?"

"I've never asked for your help."

His voice was calm, his facial expression blank and stern but his eyes were blazing with emotion. His stare was so intense it made Helen shiver.

"You ungrateful ass", she whispered, stunned by his audacity. "You took all I had to give without saying thank you only once. And now you're…"

He was right in front of her with two big strides, his lips crashing on hers with unexpected passion. Helen was too surprised to think about her reaction. She instinctively kissed him back, granting him access, letting him deepen the kiss, allowing his hands to explore her body. 60 seconds later she was in control of herself again. She pushed him away, staring at him dumbfounded.

"Shit. What are you doing?"

"Expressing my gratitude."

He gave her an outrageously sexy smirk and it took Helen just a split second to grab him by his shirt and pull him close again to kiss him feverishly. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. She wanted him now.

August pressed her against the wall with his huge body, caressing her tits through her clothes while kissing her neck. She moaned and started to tug at his shirt. He took it off in a hurry and Helen got rid of her top and bra. When they kissed again she let her hands run over his chest gently, making sure not to hurt him. She pulled away and looked at him, at his scarred face that was still so handsome now that the wounds were healing and the swelling had gone down around his eye. August averted his eyes, burying his head in the crook of her neck again, withdrawing from her gaze.

"Turn around", he mumbled, taking her by her waist.

She did what he asked her to do but when she heard him fumble with his belt and the sound of his pants hitting the floor behind her back, when his hands tried to pull down her sweatpants impatiently, she turned around again. She reached up and cupped his face with her tiny hands, running her thumb tenderly over his burnt skin.

"Listen, August. This is not going to be a quickie, okay? You want to express your gratitude? Great. I like this. But do it properly. Fuck me rough, if you want to, fuck me hard, but don't you dare to hide from me. Look at me. Kiss me. Give me the feeling of being wanted. Pretend it's more than just some kind of job."

He looked at her with an unreadable expression, hesitating for a moment. He opened his mouth but instead of saying something he pressed his lips together with a nod. Helen smiled at him before stripping naked slowly.

When he kissed her again he took his time, enjoying the sensation of holding her naked body close to his now. She was surprised by his tenderness, by his gentle touch and the delicate kisses he covered her body with and blown away by the passion that soon erupted from deep within him. It was just a small step from long, slow kisses to making out like two hungry predators.

He lifted her up easily and carried her to her bed where he laid her down on her back carefully. He climbed between her legs and looked at her.

"Ready to get fucked like never before?"

She smirked. "Big words. I hope you're not all mouth."

"You don't like my mouth?" He started to kiss her belly, licking her skin, leaving a wet trace that led down south where his tongue met her soft pubic hair.

"I love your mouth."

Helen moaned when he kissed her pussy and parted her folds with his tongue.

"Yeah? You like my tongue too?"

He started to tongue fuck her and she grabbed his head, pressing his face closer to her sex.

"Shut up and eat me out."

She threw her head back when sucked on her clit.

"Oh fuck…" She moved her hips slowly to the rhythm of his actions, rolling them with intense motions, burying her fingers in his thick, curly hair. "Just like this...yes."

Her moans got louder and louder and his dick was so hard it hurt, leaking precum. He knew she was about to come but she stopped him before she climaxed.

"Lay down", she ordered and so they switched positions. August had always been a dominant lover but being bossed around by her was a great turn on. He loved how determined she was, it was incredibly sexy how she was chasing her high, not even trying to hide that she wanted to fulfil her own needs most of all. She was starved, desperately in need of this, of him. In this moment she needed him, she wanted him, she allowed him to give her what she was craving.

Helen was kneeling between his legs now, grabbing his dick. "I love your cock too." She grinned at him before she started to suck him off with a devotion that was new to him.

She turned him into a whimpering, panting mess soon, her lips and her tongue working their magic on his dick, and just like her, he grabbed her head to have some kind of control over her actions. He made her take him deeper and she took him deeper.

"Good girl. Taking me so well."

His voice was raspy and she locked eyes with him, her gaze telling him that she liked to be praised. August groaned when she slowly pulled back, licking his length one last time.

"Fuck, Helen...I need to feel you."

"I'll make you feel me."

Saliva was dripping from her swollen lips and he almost got off just by the sight of it. His saviour, his saint had turned into a shameless whore and he was willing to worship and adore her for being his dirty, little slut.

"Yes, you will."

He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her onto his cock. She sighed with pleasure when he entered her tight cunt, stretching her wet pussy and as soon as she got used to his size she started to ride him, rolling her hips slowly in a rhythm that was giving them both the greatest pleasure. August stroked her tits, caressed and kneaded them and she supported her body with her hands on his chest. She picked up speed and when August pinched her nipple she came with a hoarse shriek, her whole body trembling with ecstasy and lust.

Helen bent down to kiss him and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly while thrusting his hips. He fucked her without restraint now, his thrusts hard, fast and deep. He railed her mercilessly until his intense orgasm swept him away. He let out a long, satisfied moan and loosened his grip on her body.

He kissed her again but she seemed to be in a rush suddenly and rolled off him and went to the bathroom. August was kind of surprised and sobered to a certain degree when he heard that she was taking a shower. She either couldn't stand after-sex-cuddles in general or she really thought that he had just done her a favor to thank her for her hospitality.

He wondered how many times he would have to fuck her till she was willing to fall asleep in his arms afterwards.

*****

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #august walker smut #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc

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sanris3 · 3 years

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A fine line

Pairing: reader x san Genre: friends to lovers(?)/angst Summary: You realize you're in love with your best friend San and unsure how to approach it. Playing with the thin line between friends and lovers. author notes: This is my first piece in a while, I hope everyone enjoys it! in a silly goofy mood at 5am Word Count: 1.6k

The both of you definitely started off on the wrong note. When you and San were first introduced to each other, it was difficult to get close to him. He radiated this intimidating aura and with your shy self, there was no way you'd approach someone like him. You had mutuals through a couple friend groups, it was only natural that you'd end up friends. However, there had been a misunderstanding through a mutual friend and you never thought to clear the air.. because after all, you weren't in a position to fight for the friendship anyway. The both of you left it as it is. Fast forward to 2 years later and the two of you are closer than ever. There was a stark difference between your personalities, hobbies, hell- even the way you both processed things were different. But oddly enough, you guys make it work. You were the epitome of 'opposites attract.' You'd never expect that a toxic relationship would deem you two as inseparable. San struggled a lot and you were there for him whenever he needed a shoulder to lean on. No one understood him but you oddly did. Looking at his situation, you found yourself looking in the mirror recognizing you had been in his position just a year ago. You desired to be there for him. You were reminded of the turbulent moments and unexplainable behaviors that took place- and unknowingly, you began to prioritize him. Not in a romantic way- more so, just ensuring San is doing okay because after all, he is your best friend. All you could think about were the empty moments you experienced when you went through the same thing, you didn't want him to believe no one understood him, because you did. How delightful would it have been if you had someone like this to root for you back then? San allowed himself to become comfortable with you. Sharing each vulnerable thought was a common conversation you two had and honestly- it was fascinating to learn how aware he was about his emotions because all this time, you believed he was emotionally constipated. Even after being friends for so long, the conversations you had never reached the depth that they did now. This was a sign he genuinely acknowledged you to be his closest friend. You'll never overlook the excitement you experienced at the realization he trusts you at his most vulnerable moments. It was happiness. This is what it feels like to have a friendship reciprocated. Vulnerable. Stable. Consistent. Several months go by and that relationship ends. You adhere to his side until the end, making sure he's completely taken care of; and even though it's challenging, you walk him through the emotions, keeping him together at his roughest moments. You had become his pillar. And that's exactly what you did, until, he suddenly cut off contact with you. You understood his heartbreak. He needed time to heal, but that time apart managed to lead through the most confusing part of your friendship. You missed him terribly but what could you do? He needed his space and you respected that. You hear from him for the first time for what feels like forever and you notice something is off. There's something about his aura that shifted- and you couldn't figure it out. Both of you are nervous to talk to each other after the sudden break but as always, you get through it and pick up on the flow once again. But this time it's different. There was a new feeling of awareness in your stomach when you got a notif from him- and for so long, you assured yourself it was because you missed him. Which was true. (at least for now.) There were many instances where you wanted to reach out and invade his space but that would only harm your friendship, and that was the furthest thing you desired to do. But you couldn't help yourself, you grew anxious that he would disappear on you again and started attaching yourself to him a different way and it was a scary feeling because you knew where this would lead to. "She was my person. It was rocky but I've never loved anyone so hard," he says amidst another vulnerable conversation. You try to bring him comfort by wrapping your arms

around him, gently pulling him in for a hug as he sobs again for the night. Your hands rub against his back, gently finding a pace. You feel his grasp on you tighten, hands clinging to you like you'll slip away. But you stay there, bringing him all the comfort he needs, he was still healing. There was that feeling again. Like always, you brushed it aside and never dared to ponder upon it. For the first time, your heart sinks when he's talking about her. It's a good day for both of you. Throughout your hangout you're able to pick up conversations like before, San is starting to smile again and joke a lot more often, the bright San you knew was returning and you were genuinely happy for him. "I knew you'd turn out okay, if I did, you would. It just took some time." you blurt out in the middle of silence as the two of you are watching a movie. He stops in his tracks to turn towards you, "Thank you." His lips curve up into a warm smile with his arms reaching out, unexpectedly pulling you into his arms. "You know, I'm sorry for disappearing. You've been nothing but good to me through everything. I'm grateful to have you around, I promise I'll return everything." You go along with it, loosely wrapping your arms around his frame. "It's okay." You answer with a pause before continuing. "I missed you a lot." "I did too."

There it is again. That feeling. As time went by, it was growing difficult to ignore the little jump in your heart seeing anything of him. A text? A call? Hanging out? Your wavering heart couldn't ignore. The overwhelming feeling was too much for you to handle so that day you ignore San for your sake. You took the day off to think about your feelings for the first time. Why him? Why now? It was hard to understand the sudden change in heart. You pondered over and over again if this was true. Overthinking leads one thing to another and the next thing you know, you're on your bed crying endlessly in the sheets. Out of all people, your feelings were stirred up by Choi San. For the next few months, it was a brutal game of push and pull. Not between you and San, but you and yourself. Slowly, you were filled with frustrations no one but him had answers to, it was driving you insane; One moment you would see San as a friend, then it would be more than that. The friendly gestures you were recieving from him were transforming to a different meaning in your heart. The pet names, the random compliments, the sporadic oversharing- oh you wished that it would stop. But a part of you knew you were acting like this due to the fact you were hyper aware of your feelings.

At one point you wondered what it would be like to feel his lips against yours. It was a confusing cycle you couldn't stand to seperate from him. How bad could it be if you started and ended things on your note? But if you revealed your heart, what if it backfired? There was a chance you'd lose your best friend and it was too risky to cross that line. You were desperate enough to go on dates, and of course, San encouraged you through all of them. There was a clear answer to your questions but the little hope you had in you, kept praying. Just maybe. You wanted San to feel the same way. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or you were tired of stringing yourself along- so you initiated the conversation about dating again. Of course, you were extremely careful with how you apporached the situation; One mess up and it'll change the dynamic of your bond forever. You thought about what would happen far ahead. Sure he accepts your feelings and there's might be connection but what if you guys aren't compatiable as lovers? would the both of you have the courage to love like you haven't been hurt? "San- Can I ask you for advice on something? Or not really advice.. but your input." The brunette gears his attention towards you fully, emmitting the same flustering feeling in your stomach. But you don't react physically.

"Is it something serious?" "Yeah sort of-" "Is this another joke you're play-" "I'm serious!" "Okay, what's up?" "what do you think about dating a friend?-" "what?" "just answer the question." "I'm scared it'll happen again." " yeah same, I get you." The both of you return to the movie, carrying on like the conversation didn't happen. The air turned thick. At one point the comfortable silence grew suffocation. Did he catch on or are you thinking too much? For the first time you realized how dangerous that fine line between friends and lovers were. In the end, you didn't want him to take responsibility for your actions. Why should San suffer because of your feelings? that was the last thing you wanted. Sure, you won't be able to kiss him and hug him, or feel his embrace in a much more intimate way- but he was by your side and that mattered. With that, you were happy and content. Even if his heart wasn't yours. "San?" "Yeah?" "I'm really grateful you're my best friend." "I could say the same."

#san scenarios #san angst #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #choi san #ateez x reader #san fic #san smut #ateez smut

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alonfic · 3 years

Text

in conclusion (i love you)

pairing: tsukishima kei x reader genre: college + fwb to lovers au | fluff, suggestive wc: 3,742 description: In which Tsukishima discovers that love can bloom in inconspicuous ways, even when you and him are supposed to be conducting a (not so) simple experiment. author’s note: cross-posted onto my ao3. still not sure if i’ll be posting here frequently, but i thought i’d see how i like it first.

Tsukishima doesn’t understand romantic relationships.

He thinks they’re illogical, impossible, and most of all, irrelevant. They seem like too much hassle when it comes to the ordeal of courting. From the hours spent preparing complicated banners for asking significant others out to the extensive search for gifts that are supposed to appease pointless “monthiversaries,” Tsukishima finds it all to be a waste of time.

Just acts for appearances. Sure, they’re cute, heartwarming even, but what does all of that show for anyway? What happened to qualitative experiences?

He ascertains that he may never truly understand what it means to love another person by modern day standards; for those standards are all full of overhyped bullshit trying to make a trending post on Twitter and Instagram. If avoiding those things means saving himself from love, then so be it. (Irrationality and heartache be damned!)

Tsukishima decides in his first year of university that he won’t do any of those things.

How? His friends ask, guffaws in tow.

He simply tells them that he won’t fall in love.

Not many people share in this same ideal, Tsukishima finds.

He can’t say he’s very surprised or disappointed to have his philosophy rejected, especially by those same friends who have questioned his goal, Yamaguchi and Hinata. They’re fools who deem love as something akin to fate’s gift.

Love is a choice, Tsukishima tells them, and this is his decision.

They think he’s being a little silly for not wanting to fall in love. They say he’ll get bit in the ass when he least expects it and he’ll go back on his word, but he hardly thinks that’s true.

If he doesn’t want to fall in love, then he won’t, and that’s perfectly okay. At the very least, you agree with him.

You have always understood him on wavelengths that others simply could not. You have always stood by his side when it came to debates on this matter, and even more so when he really thinks about it.

Tsukishima has been able to lean on you even in high school. Him being so introverted has made things difficult, and what he needed then was patience, something many people lacked, but unlike those people, you took the time to understand him and his struggles.

It’s made him grateful to you. Even now. Scratch that, especially now.

These days he isn’t just shooting you texts about how he could’ve let someone down easier. Sometimes it’s checking out hot pot places at 8PM on a Tuesday; other times, it’s going to the library until 5 AM because statistics midterms suck at an unbearable level, but you take the 8AM class with him anyway, just because it’s him, and General Education requirements may suck but they’re mandatory.

It’s also sharing jokes that no one else gets, and teaming up against the rest of the group when they heckle you two about being the only ones who sees love as the bane of both your existences.

Tsukishima has heard plenty of love advice and received Cosmopolitan articles on how to woo a friend from those same punks who think that love is given by chance. He has seen the knowing stares exchanged at kickbacks. Hell, he’s heard all the whispers, too. But it means nothing.

This is friendship. No matter what anyone else tries to insinuate, you both know it means nothing for either of you.

What you are together is simply platonic.

Friends, that’s all.

Somewhere along the way benefits become a factor for you two.

These are the sort of benefits that forgo late night convenience store runs for ramen and other delicious, overly processed foods that Yamagchi and Sugawara blanch at the two of you over. Instead it’s the kind that means heated kisses in one another’s bedroom and wandering hands in places very few people have become privy to in both your two-decades long reign on this planet.

And, it all starts over a simple experiment.

At least that’s what you and Tsukishima like to call it.

“Isn’t it stupid that Ennoshita would say that?” Tsukishima asks, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “We can be friends. How can he say it’s impossible for us to be just friends? I mean there’s nothing wrong with being attracted to one another, right? You’re good looking. I’m good looking. We’re acknowledging each other’s attractiveness.”

He pats the open space beside him on his bed, feeling it dip a little soon afterwards. You’re visiting him after he blew off the post-kickback get together. He shouldn’t be surprised that you came by to check on him.

You smile at him as one of your fingers pokes his cheek. “You sound awfully bothered over something that shouldn’t matter.”

He frowns at your nonchalant tone, even if you are messing with him.

Tsukishima has never been that particularly fond of other people telling him that his friendship with you is only the stepping stone to something more, that it would only be a matter of time before you two were calling one another cutesy pet names and holding hands for other reasons than as a precaution from getting lost in crowds, and that if he didn’t step up to the plate now, then he would lose you to someone else.

But how could he? If anything, you’ve been more against love than him. Seeing you with someone else is as impossible as seeing Hinata at Aone’s height. Possibly with some help, but still highly unlikely.

“I mean, aren’t you? So what if we’re attracted to each other? That doesn’t mean we’re going to start dating because of that.”

You hum in affirmation.

You know he has a point. It’s silly to expect two friends to date when both your admissions came as a result from a simple game of “truth or dare.” While it comes from a place of truth, it isn’t like either of you admitted to harboring deep-seated feelings for one another or anything. It’s simply an admission of truth.

He thinks you’re attractive, beautiful even, and it helps that you share the same opinion as him when it comes to love. And, you think he’s attractive, handsome even, and it’s because you both share the same opinion on love that he doesn’t have to worry about frivolous things like falling in love with you. Or you with him. Your dynamics just work like that.

“You know, there are other alternatives to relationships anyway, right?” you ask him, watching as he turns to face you on the bed.

“Like what? Hooking up?” He feels a little dumbfounded. The idea of hooking up with you never really occurred to him. Clearly not because he wasn’t attracted to you, but didn’t those end up… badly?

You nod.

Seeing the instant confusion wash over his face, you explain, “Yeah, hook-ups aren’t so bad. It’s like a one and done. It doesn’t even have to lead to anything more. It’s like a preliminary thing. Trial or whatever. We give it a go and if it doesn’t work out, then we can just go back to being friends.”

“And if it does? Work out, I mean,” he gulps. He doesn’t want to think of an option that means losing you or this friendship. But he’s intrigued, he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t, and you know it.

“Then we have one of two options.”

He blinks. “Which are?”

“Well, if it does, then we can continue and enjoy the fun. Or, we really fuck ourselves over and do exactly what our friends have been betting on for years.” You lean in closer, eyes alight with mischief and interest.

He feels a tug within him to concede, as if his own body knows its answer, while his mind’s doubts seem to lower in volume the longer he’s under your gaze.

“What do you say? Up for an experiment?”

He still has to ask: “And, what if we can’t go back from this?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, eyes softening as you note his hesitancy. “Even that’s something I can’t answer. This is just a risk we both have to be willing to take. Truthfully, I’m in. But, are you? I-it’s okay if you aren’t, though, Kei. This was just a suggestion, of course—”

He doesn’t take a second longer to tell you his decision.

“I’m in.”

After all, it couldn’t hurt… right?

Tsukishima discovers many things in this time.

Things that he never really gave a second thought on. Somewhere between how you look bathed in moonlight with the curtains half-open to the just-right way you feel beside him, he realizes how soft your skin is, how low and husky your voice can get when you’re feeling a particular way, and how powerful you are.

There’s something enticing about you. Not just in the way you look bare, but the way you can make him feel even without the lack of clothing. He realizes that he enjoys the lingering taste of your lips against his, the heat that your fingertips leave behind, and the small voice you use when you call his name.

It’s normal, he tries to convince himself. This is how it should be.

It would be ridiculous to hate the way you feel or sound when it comes to him. And while that is true, that becomes a whole different matter when it bleeds into everyday life outside of the bedroom.

He swears there are moments where he can hear you say his name and you aren’t even in the room. His eyes catch sight of something familiar, at least enough to remind him of you, and suddenly you’re popping up front and center in his mind. He can’t help but smile, of course.

Even just the taste of last night’s kiss rears its head when he’s doing homework, suddenly taking him right back to that night you two shared talking about the latest fantastical escapade in his reading arsenal.

He believes the simplicity of these exchanges is the best part of this entire experiment.

Being able to switch between friendship and, well, sex. And he isn’t sure if the consistent exposure to your presence has brought him to think of you constantly or if it’s some other seed blooming in the vestiges of his chest. He can’t say. Partially because he’s scared to. Because admitting to the second possibility means changing something good, something normal. And change, in this regard, often means a relationship. One that he isn’t sure if such feelings will truck through or crash and burn the moment he mentions it.

Instead when you call out his name, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and a fingertip tapping his cheek, he flashes one of his heartwarming smiles your way and brushes aside the concern.

“It’s nothing,” he tells you. “I’m fine. Everything is perfect.”

And while you aren’t convinced, you simply nod and take note to ask another day.

The thing that bothers Tsukishima most is being fickle.

He doesn’t like being fickle. He knows it is transcribed in the stars that he is a fickle being. And it doesn’t help that everyone is constantly telling him that he is indecisive. He knows already. He knows it well. He hates it, but only when it comes to you.

He is never indecisive with you. Well, only because you’re the assurance he needs when it comes to decision-making. Maybe it’s your influence. You’re bullheaded and more self-assured than Patrick Verona from “Ten Things I Hate About You.” (Mind you, you’re the one who forced him to watch it. And, fortunately, he wound up loving it.)

He constantly thinks about how opposed those two main leads are about love, simply because it is exactly against what everyone else expects from high school teenagers. They don’t conform to the status quo. They make their own status quo. Perhaps that is where Tsukishima garnered such a strong stance against love from. Partially from the movie and mostly from you.

While everyone is banking on your relationship to become more than just friends, he truly can’t help but consider the possibility of a ‘more’ with you anymore. He realizes this when he sees you underneath the incandescent fairy lights hanging around your room.

Your tranquil visage, how effortless you look sporting one of his T-shirts with a giant crescent moon on the back, and the way your limbs so effortlessly remain entangled. This is comfortable. This is… right.

He doesn’t stop himself from brushing aside the stray locks covering your face. Normally, he might like to turn over and occupy another part of the bed, but he prefers to remain where he is with you in his arms, just so he can listen for your soft and steady breathing like his own personal lullaby. If he was brave enough, he probably would’ve kissed your cheek.

Truthfully, if he were in a relationship with you, he truly wouldn’t mind. Not even a little bit.

Realization strikes him then. A simple, yet vital question crosses his mind, one that he hadn’t thought needed to be asked before—could you feel the same way about him?

Tsukishima doesn’t have any other answer besides I don’t know.

When Tsukishima said he could never be as irrational as any other lovestruck fool, he never imagined what it would be like to see you in the arms of another man.

Given, this is a man he knows well. Trusts, even. He can’t help but feel a large pang in his chest when Kuroo spins you around on the dancefloor. It’s a drunken habit that everyone either loves or hates depending on their sobriety levels, but even while sober, you seem to bask in this treatment with glee.

It makes Tsukishima grumble under his breath, “What’s so good about him anyway?”

He doesn’t ask anyone in particular and expects no one to answer him back, but a nudge and a pointed look from Sugawara tells him that his ruminations have not gone unnoticed.

Sugawara nods his head in your direction. “You finally realize you’re in love with her?”

“W-what? I am not in love… with her,” he says. It’s all weak and unconvincing.

The smirk on the silver-haired man’s face says it all, much to Tsukishima’s annoyance.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking about it.” He doesn’t want to say it aloud. He hardly feels right feeling what he does when you probably don’t even feel the same way anyway.

“What am I thinking that has you so peeved, Tsukishima?” Sugawara raises his eyebrow. “The truth?”

The tone elicits a wince from Tsukishima, making him frown. Not that he’s unhappy, he’s just frustrated that the proverbial cat is now out of the bag.

Tsukishima simply shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to escape from the scene. Maybe go home and burrow away into his bed, away from all of this. Afterparty milk tea trip with the rest of the group be damned. Did he really have to go when he was this emotionally compromised? Stewing right here just spells trouble, and not just for him, but for your friendship with him as well.

“You should just be honest, dude. None of this ‘experiment’ bullshit. You both lost. Own up to the results.”

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow at Sugawara. The rest of the party seems to cease with more drinks getting passed around, which he receives one quite graciously. “What are you talking about ‘both?’ It’s just me. I fell first.”

Sugawara snorts.

Tsukishima shoots him an accusatory glare, but when he receives nothing in response, he chugs down the red Solo cup without thinking of what’s inside.

The mixture kind of tastes like shit, and it makes him feel even worse, because now his mind won’t stop fixating on you and Kuroo. A match that could be made in heaven.

The dark-haired man has always been handsome, adorable at times, funny without trying particularly hard, caring, and worst of all, certain. God, was Kuroo a certain bastard. He always seemed to know what he wanted. He did as he pleased and got whatever he set his heart on too.

It’s cruel, really. The way fate has metaphorically bit him in the ass like Yamaguchi and Hinata predicted.

Tsukishima can’t stand the thought that maybe you would choose Kuroo’s sauve side tonight. He particularly dislikes that he really did lose his chance thinking that this experiment would last forever. A few months should’ve sufficed. Should’ve. But only an idiot would let something as good as you be a temporary fling.

“Maybe I’m the idiot,” he mutters, shutting his eyes.

Sugawara doesn’t respond immediately, in fact, he doesn’t respond at all. Instead a voice he swears is yours does.

“Who’s an idiot?” Fingertips digging into his sides are unlike Yamaguchi or even Sugawara. In fact, these ones are all too familiar, even with two layers of clothing blocking access to his bare flesh. “Kei?”

When he looks at the perpetrator, he nearly tumbles over to see you in Sugawara’s place.

You immediately steady him by interlocking one of his arms with yours, and it’s only you. No Kuroo trailing behind you. No Sugawara in sight either. It’s just you and him walking toward an empty section of the house. Milk tea trip really be damned, you seemed to tell him.

“Are you alright?” He notices you make eye contact with Yamaguchi before you two round the corner into the surprisingly unoccupied hallway.

Tsukishima’s begrudgingly grateful that Kageyama’s place is a lot spacier than he remembers. It’s enough that he’s been granted some relief—no trip or an audience to bear witness to his major crash and burn.

He sighs. “N—yeah. Er, no.”

“Yes or no? Which it is.” You flash him a half-smile as he sways inside the empty guest bedroom.

He looks around after noting just how quiet it is without the thumping bass of music or the chatter of others drowning out just about everything else. It feels bare here somehow.

He shakes his head.

“Why?” Your eyebrows screw together. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I fucked up,” he whispers. Looking from the beige walls covered bare of any sentiments, he meets your softened gaze. “I fucked up the experiment.”

“How did you do that?”

“T-the results are inconclusive. I can’t continue, because,” he rubs the back of his head, “well, I caught feelings.”

The surprise is evident on your visage, even from the weak lighting created by the moon and street lamp outside. But he can’t deny seeing the sight of a smile beginning to grace your features either. Amusement, he can discern with absolute certainty. Relief, dare he say? All of the things he never imagined in any of his scenarios about this moment.

“Leave it to you to be able to use big words when you’re buzzed.”

“It’s true. We can’t continue this. I mean I’d love to have something with you, but this isn’t a one and done for me. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.”

“Really? You mean that?” Even though you won’t say it directly, he knows there’s a huge burden of thoughts on your mind from the way your bottom lip gets captured by your teeth.

“Yeah, I mean it. I—I can’t pretend that I don’t love you anymore. I just can’t. I don’t think I ever expected to feel this way for anyone, but spending so much time with you in and out of bed has shown me that whatever shit I said before has gone completely out of the window. I mean I’m not asking you to be with me if that’s not what you want, but if at all, you feel something too, then…” He can’t help but fiddle with his fingers. Why is his heart beating so loudly? Can’t you hear it?

“You love me?”

He swears then that you probably can.

Slowly, he nods. “I don’t know how I came to love you exactly, but it just struck me when you were sleeping. It felt right that you were beside me. Easy and comfortable, even. I debated so hard about what these feelings were when it came to you. I didn’t think I could like someone this much. But I just do. I just love you for you, for being there... for existing.”

The last part has his cheeks burning, and Tsukishima can’t help but look away to save himself the humiliation of looking like a fresh tomato. You laugh when he does this, and he can’t even help himself from trying to catch a glimpse.

He loves your soft exhale, it’s one that he relishes in. Somehow you don’t look as perturbed or aghast as he expects. If anything, you look quite content. It makes him wonder if Sugawara was right, if everyone else was right all along.

He asks, “Well, what do you say?”

This time you laugh again. A much louder, but he can’t help but break out into a broad grin, because the atmosphere feels lighter than any tension breaking to grip the room. He knows without being told.

“Only you, Kei. Of course, I love you too.”

His heart swells, and a greedy part of him wants to hear you say it again. “Really?”

You nod and look at him as if there couldn’t possibly be any other answer out there. “There’s no one else in this world that could understand me the way you do. No one could touch me like you, make me laugh like you, and certainly not watch ‘Ten Things I Hate About You’ five million times with me like you.”

“Five million and one times,” he corrects.

His fingers shyly brush away the hair threatening to cover your face, and he refuses to be denied that luxury. Not when he can’t seem to get enough of you. He can’t even bear to move his hand away after he’s done it. “And I’d watch it over and over again with you, by the way.”

“Good.” You smile at him, cupping your hand over his. “I’m glad we finally came to a conclusion on this.”

“Even if it means getting ‘I-told-you-so’s’ and teased to all hell?” He smiles when you nod. “Good, ‘cuz I don’t think I’d have it any other way.”

“Yeah, me either,” you say, leaning in to peck his lips. Of course, he returns the gesture (and then some).

(The room is empty, after all.)

#tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima imagines #tsukshima fanfic #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #emwrites #title: in conclusion (i love you)

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strawberrysoup · 4 years

Text

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 5

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 4.7k

chapters: 5/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”.

Rationality within Carol’s pack was often treated like a talking stick; only one person could have and use it at a time, and stealing it required either brute force or a clever trick—which was why she and Loki fumbled it back and forth so often. Sam seemed to have snatched it for a moment, until their omega’s sharp tongue made him fumble. She was cutting and brutal, as wild as she’d looked the first time Carol saw her: covered in mud and blood, half soaked from the bath and thrashing violently while Thor and Peter tried to gently get her in the tub.

The blonde figured it was time to regain the upper hand over their omega and came to stand at the top of the stairs, eyes locking on Sam from behind. He was turning the corner from patience to frustration, their little omega’s demeaning comments making the muscle in his jaw clench. It was impressive though; any of the other alpha’s in the house (plus herself and maybe minus Peter) would’ve had her nose in the corner by now, bent over to hold her own ankles and struggling for balance so that her forehead didn’t press against the wall lest she earn herself a spanking for being sulky.

“Alright Sammy, tag out,” Carol made sure that there was an undertone of mirth in her voice, hoping to bring the other alpha out of his anger. “You should probably go check on dinner and—Bruce, test results?”

“Oh, you’re right,” the beta nodded, immediately headed for the stairs. “Her hormone analysis should be ready at the least.”

The moment her eyes landed on the little omega on the bed, Carol felt her heart melt just a bit. Despite the vitriol she’d been spitting just moments before, the precious thing looked like an angel sprawled out in their den. All she wore was one of Thor’s t-shirts, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs and perfuming her scentless skin with his musk—she couldn’t wait until the suppressants were out of their omega’s system, Carol desperately wanted to know what she smelled like.

“Sammy?” The blonde prompted when the male alpha didn’t move, leading him to sigh.

“Yeah babe,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss against the omega’s forehead, ignoring how she shrunk back into the pillows behind her. “I’m out. Take care of her, beautiful.”

Sam stopped to press a kiss against Carol’s cheek on his way down the stairs, gesturing for Tony to follow. The genius rolled his eyes and huffed but followed nonetheless, only after tossing a wink at the scowling omega huddled in what would hopefully soon be a nest. Carol waited until they were both down before returning her attention to the younger woman, stomach filling with butterflies.

Carol had wanted an omega since she presented as an alpha at twelve. 90% of the people she interacted with thought she was such a waste—a female alpha? Objectively, a useless combination. Female alphas were weak and passive, certainly not strong enough to lead a pack or produce strong alpha babies. If only she’d been a delta or a beta, she could’ve at least carried children. She’d always been fully aware that society’s perspective was incredibly flawed; she was as dominant as any male, just as potent and just as strong. Stronger even—more recently by unimaginable levels.

But omegas rarely looked negatively upon female alphas. Omegas preened and clamored for the attention female alphas provided, they saw it as more tender and careful. Carol didn’t know if she exactly agreed with that either, but at least an omega would never look at her and consider her a very pretty waste.

Or so the blonde had thought, right up until making eye contact with the sweet-faced omega her pack had managed to stumble upon. She certainly didn’t look pleased, her glare verging on incendiary.

“You sure are feisty,” she felt her lips quirking at the corners, especially when the omega seemed to puff up like an angry kitten. “What you said to Sam wasn’t very nice. You gonna hiss at me too?”

The answer was a resounding yes, the cute, clicking cub growl she made only reinforcing Carol’s gut instinct that the little omega was perfect. She liked that fire, it wasn’t disrespectful—it demanded respect and the blonde could certainly understand that sort of attitude. Considering her omega’s evident disdain for modern presentation centered care, it could even be considered mild.

“Claws away, baby,” she ordered, tone amused and the smile still curling her lips as she toed her shoes off at the edge of the bed. “Be a good girl for me now.”

Carol pressed the omega flat to the bed before she could fight, plastering herself against the half-naked woman and burying her face in the crook of her neck. Scenting deeply made the blonde’s eyes roll back in her head—the faint scent of panicking omega wafted off her skin, only noticeable at such a distance. Thank God the Hulk picked it up, the alpha’s senses so incredibly strong that even while masked by Bruce’s beta he had picked up the faint whiff of omega; if Bruce hadn’t prompted Steve to scent carefully they might not’ve found her. Carol hadn’t been the only one in the pack desperate for an omega.

Thor had been… devastated to learn of the lack of omegas on Earth. With the destruction of Asgard and the remaining population’s relocation, it had been another gut punch to the alpha prime who’s people had already endured so much. He’d spoken at length about how omega Aesir were different than humans’ and the tone of longing and sadness in the prime had radiated through their entire pack.

The deltas, Bucky, Tony and Loki had all realized years ago how sorely their dynamic suffered without an omega. A delta’s overwhelming physiological drive was to provide support and comfort to pack members, their intuition let them see their packmates in a way the other presentation’s couldn’t replicate. Their pack’s deltas were all incredibly intuitive, beyond the norm, and without an omega to properly direct them they got manipulative. It was rarely antagonistic or cruel and if there had only been one delta in the pack, it would’ve slid by without notice—but deltas perceived the deception where others didn’t and it usually led to dissent amongst the three.

And while Steve had never said a word, Carol knew that as a sickly little beta he’d dreamt of being ‘strong enough to deserve an omega’. Bucky had mentioned it briefly—as had Tony, who’d heard it from his father at least biweekly. Steve loved omegas; he loved that they balanced an incredible strength with equal fragility. The very nature of them spoke to his inner artist, ‘his inner romantic,’ Bucky had teased. Now that he was a big ass alpha prime? He could deserve an omega now, he was strong enough now.

Their omega was practically a miracle, considering how few of them there were—so few adults, especially. Some claimed the overall population of omegas was going up despite the overwhelming evidence of the opposite and besides, the number of omegas born every year didn’t matter when you had packmates approaching their mid-forties. Tony, Bruce, and Clint were getting up there, as everyone liked to tease. Finding a reasonably aged omega that was also unclaimed? They’d never even considered the possibility, it was unfathomable.

Carol had consoled herself with the knowledge that her pack loved her deeply, found no fault in her gender or presentation. She knew it would take time, but soon her omega would realize the same. There was nothing wrong with her, she didn’t need to hide or put on a façade; not in their pack, not under their protection. Whatever the omega had gone through in her life must’ve been traumatizing, the blonde could only assume some sort of abuse, and it would be tough to instill confidence in her. They’d need to build her back up from scratch.

“You know, if you’d let Wanda search your mind, we’d have a much easier time understanding what’s going on,” the blonde murmured into the omega’s neck, nose brushing back and forth over her left scent gland. “Will you tell me why you’re so scared? Are you afraid of alphas or of packs? Or deltas?”

“I’m afraid of being trapped forever by a bunch of fucking rapists and kidnappers!” She spat furiously in response, struggling futilely under Carol’s careful grasp. “Get your fucking face out of my neck!”

“Packs it is then,” Carol sighed, lifting her head but keeping the woman pinned beneath her.

“You’re so shifty ‘mega, calm down. There are some horrible people out there, we know that better than anyone, and I’m sorry that you were hurt. I’m sorry you had to go through whatever it was.”

The omega froze, muscles pulling so tightly that she started to shiver. Her lips pursed, jaw clenching and her eyes got dim, lashes fluttering as she looked into the distance over Carol’s shoulder. It was a dead-eyed stare, one the blonde had seen before. Her baby was half trapped in a memory, tightly clenched hands clawing at Carol’s shirt and trying to force her body away.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry, come back—” Carol cooed into the omega’s ear, holding her tighter as she struggled. “You’re with me baby, you’re safe. Breathe with me, come back to me.”

“Would you fucking get off!” The omega choked, sounding both parts desolate and frustrated. “Why don’t you people fucking listen? Am I speaking gibberish?”

“I’m sorry you’re so angry omega,” the blonde’s eyebrows furrowed, sadness permeating her expression as she lowered her head to rest her forehead against the omega’s. “I’m sorry, I can’t get off—you need the pheromones, the alpha contact chemicals. Even if you’re traumatized, once the suppressants you’re on start to wear off you’re going to have to submit. We need to start practicing now so you can get comfortable with it, before it’s critical for your health.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry, you’re not sorry! If you were, you would’ve let me go. You wouldn’t be holding me here! I don’t need or want your help, I don’t want to be in a pack!”

“I hear you, baby, I promise I understand what you’re saying,” Carol carefully pinned one of the flailing omega’s arms down with her knee, reaching up to stroke the woman’s face. “You don’t want to be here, you don’t want to have a pack, I’m sure you don’t want to be bonded to us. But you’re on so many suppressants baby, there are so many mind-altering chemicals in the shit you were taking—”

“If you force me to stop taking them I’ll only be under the ‘mind-altering’ chemicals produced by the other presentations and—and this stupid collar forcing my body to produce addictive chemicals at a rapid rate,” she argued, “you want to argue that I’m out of my mind like I can’t be trusted with my own safety! I’m fully conscious, I’m not stupid, I’m an adult for fuck’s sake. The only thing that’s going to fuck up my personal agency is you!”

“We’ll know for sure when Bruce gets your test results back,” Carol sighed realizing how unlikely it would be for her to get through to the omega. “Tony’s having some equipment dropped by in the morning so he and Bruce can run some more. If your hormone levels aren’t entirely trashed, we’ll revisit this conversation.”

“You have to let me take my suppressants tonight then,” the omega pushed against the blonde again, grunting with effort and irritation when she didn’t move at all. “Otherwise the test results from today won’t match the ones tomorrow, missing a dose will entirely trash my hormone levels! The tests won’t provide an accurate reading!”

Carol was shaking her head before she’d even finished the explanation. “No way, there’s a reason those are illegal, baby. They’re so dangerous—”

“I’ve been taking them for fifteen years and I’m completely fine, come on—”

She watched the omega’s face fall when she sighed, “it’s not gonna happen baby. This one isn’t up for debate.”

“This one?” The omega scoffed bitterly, lips twisting as angry tears collected in her eyes. “Nothing is ‘up for debate’. I’m here, aren’t I? Obviously against my will. I’m not even wearing my own clothes, you won’t let me move! You’re acting like this is the one bit of agency you’re planning to strip from me but you’re either too stupid to realize that or you’re too caught up in the idea of having a house bitch to care!”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Carol frowned, thumb smoothing over the crease between her brows. “We’re not looking to ruin your life, baby. The last thing we want is to make you meek or take away your ability to make your own choices, but we have to take care of you.”

“Y-you don’t though,” she hissed, breath hitching as she fought not to cry in front of the alpha. “I’ve been taking care of-of myself for years. I’ve never had a problem I’ve—I’ve never been attacked or assaulted or—”

Carol shifted until the omega was cradled in her lap, easily blocking the omega’s attempts to escape her grasp, “If that’s true baby girl, I don’t think you understand how rare it is—or how it would mean you were poisoning yourself so thoroughly that no alpha could scent you. There’s too many people out there would hurt you just for being you; the only way for you to be safe is with us, where you don’t have to keep taking the pill equivalent of drinking gasoline and bleach.”

“I should have the choice!”

“The choice to slowly kill yourself?” The blonde looked down into the omega’s face in disbelief. “No one in their right mind would allow another person to suffer like that.”

Their attention was suddenly and brutally drawn to the stairwell, both of their hindbrains reacting to the scent of overwhelmingly aroused alphas accompanied by raised voices and shouting. The omega in her lap went completely and utterly still, instincts locking down all movement as if it could prevent her from being seen. Carol sighed quietly through her nose, nudging her forehead gently against the charming little creature hiding against her chest. She couldn’t really tell what they were yelling about but she figured it had something to do with whatever Bruce found.

“Someone has to—!”

“That doesn’t mean—!”

“It should be—!”

The blonde cracked her neck, arms slipping around the waist of her omega and locking in place like iron bands. The cowering made it easier for Carol to snuggle her tightly against her chest, wiggling them carefully as several pairs of feet began stomping up the stairs, until the omega was entirely engulfed by the alpha from behind. Steve and Thor made it up first, shoulder to shoulder and passive-aggressively nudging each other in the ribs. Sam was next, along with Bucky—both of whom were being decidedly antagonistic to poor Peter who followed behind.

“Would you guys shut the hell up? What’s going on?”

Before anyone else could respond Bruce forced his way between the group of more dominant males, eyes flashing green even as he attempted to shake it off, “the amount of alpha pheromone in her blood is so low it’s amazing she isn’t in shock.”

“What?!” The omega snapped furiously, eyes darting between the people standing around the room nervously. “There’s nothing wrong with me—!”

“Carol, hold her,” Steve ordered, as if the blonde hadn’t locked the omega down the second they heard them coming. “Thor, how are we gonna do this?”

Both primes looked almost pained, their faces painted with grimaces as they exchanged glances. Their struggle was easy to identify; neither wanted to cause any strife between them, damage to their partnership would damage the pack but they wanted to be first. Their hindbrains could barely function beyond the desire to fuck their omega, their pretty, sweet little omega who desperately needed alpha semen because her body would stop functioning without it. Primes always got first take on omegas, but when there were two primes in a pack things got dicey.

“Have one of us do it,” Carol chimed, carefully maintaining an expression that relayed she wasn’t trying to step on toes. “Both of you are massive, you could do damage without proper prep and if it’s that serious we can’t wait on that.”

“I’ll do it!” Peter was quick to step forward. “You all know I’ll the gentlest and she’s already upset—”

“Shut it Spiderboy,” Sam quickly interjected, giving the younger alpha a stern look, “she needs careful handling, not some teenager fumbling with his knot.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore you asshole—!”

“Carol’s cock is the smallest,” Tony stated nonchalantly as he kicked off his shoes in the closet that faced the den, “no offense babe, just logistics.”

“None taken,” the blonde snorted slightly in amusement before turning her attention to the two primes, “I can get her started, at least get her hormones on the right track.”

“Let go of me you psycho!” The omega howled, voice constricted by her collar. “Get away from me, let me go!”

A low, bone-deep rumble suddenly washed over everyone in the attic, the growl emanating from both Steve and Thor. A keening moan escaped the omega, her breath hitching and eyes rolling as viscous slick gushed from her pussy. The scent of it made waves through the rest of the pack, a cacophony of moans and growls echoing off the high ceiling as the responding scent of hot and bothered emanated through the den.

“Thor?” Steve questioned the other prime imploringly, knowing that they needed an immediate answer and follow through.

The taller man grit his teeth, nose flaring for several moments before he let out another low growl that made their omega cry with arousal. “You first—leave my shirt on her, please.”

“Oh God, oh God,” the whimpering omega shifted in Carol’s arms, likely about to try to make a break for it when Steve swept her up into his arms. “Please, wait—!”

“Your pussy is dripping for your primes, isn’t it precious?” The alpha male hummed quietly as he swiftly lowered them both to the bed, hands grasping the backs of her thighs and pressing her knees towards her shoulders. “So much slick for such a little thing.”

The whine that came from Peter sounded wrecked, only minutely more embarrassing than the groans and panting coming from the rest of the pack as they watched. The omega looked to be approaching frantic and Carol sighed, shifting farther away from the prime on the bed—there was no reason to test Steve’s incredible patience. Well, that had been Carol’s opinion anyway.

Evidently Loki believed otherwise, but then again the delta was habitually prone to testing Steve’s last goddamn nerve. The brunet had appeared with a shimmering green light, lying on the bed so close to the omega that the scent from his ridiculously expensive Fendi sweater was transferring to her arm and shoulder. The prime had barely flinched, certainly hadn’t reacted in a manner more noticeable than a slight dilation in his pupil. Thor made a reprimanding noise but didn’t move forward to remove the delta, much to Bucky and Tony’s immediate disdain.

“Why the fuck does he get to—!”

“You better rethink that, Ice Man!”

The combined snarls from both primes quickly brought all three deltas to heel and while Loki didn’t retreat, he did keep his hands to himself. One hand propped up his head, the other tightly fisted and rested on the bed between himself and the omega’s borrowed shirt while eyes burned into him from all sides. The omega’s wide eyes were locked on the man, some flicker of recognition fleetingly passing over her face. Loki was good at surprise entrances and even better at taking advantage of his brother’s status in the pack—not that he necessarily got away with things the others wouldn’t, but none of the others particularly wanted to find out what the prime’s breaking point was either.

“I just want to keep her calm, is that so horrible?” The tone the God used was smooth and Carol remembered the talking stick analogy again. “You can smell the poor thing’s terror, is it really necessary?”

Steve looked conflicted for maybe two seconds when a light went off behind his eyes. “Keep her calm so I don’t have to purr and you can stay.”

The delta’s hand immediately slipped up the front of her shirt, cupping the curve of her rib cage just under her breast. His nose pressed into her neck in the following moments, a small golden glow flowing over the little omega’s skin where he touched her. The odor of fear was quick to recede once the windows were open, replaced with the tangy-sweet scent of her pussy. Carol inhaled sharply and whined, drawing Steve’s attention to her wide, sad eyes.

The prime huffed, running one big hand through his hair while Loki held the omega’s thigh in place. “Hands to yourself, Carol.”

The blonde immediately tucked her nose into the other side of the omega’s neck, hands clenched into fists and tucked tightly against her stomach. She could hear the rest of the pack shuffling around, vying for space and views on the bed. Steve seemed entirely unbothered, his gaze once again locked on the pretty omega’s.

“Is your cunt working your slick hard enough precious?” He murmured directly into her ear, lips brushing the skin gently. “If those muscles aren’t strong enough we might have to put in a bit more effort to stretch you out. Squeeze around my fingers baby.”

Carol’s eyes rolled back when a breathy whine escaped the omega, the only perceivable reaction that might’ve betrayed her fear—otherwise, whatever magic Loki had used made her eyes shine with bliss. Steve had two fingers knuckle deep in her cunt, still pressing forward while his slick coated thumb swept up through her folds to pass over her clit. She shook under the grasp of his packmates, hips shifting without her consent to follow the movement of his hand.

“Come on sweetheart, please?” Steve implored quietly, looking at the loosely pinned omega with soft eyes. “Clench your pussy for me, let me take care of you. Please, I—oh, there you go, that’s a good girl.”

He hummed, working his fingers deeper into her cunt and scissoring them carefully. A smile lit the prime’s face when the cutest hiccupping moan escaped the omega, her legs pressing futilely against his hold. Muscle memory tried to guide her legs closed but Carol easily slipped a hand around her knee, keeping her spread wide while Steve continued to stretch her pussy. Another bass toned growl from Thor reverberated off the walls and she wailed, slick dripping over Steve’s fingers while her pussy contracted in waves as commanded by the prime’s guttural growl.

“I’m gonna take care of you precious,” her low whine prompted a moan from Steve as he added a third finger, carefully pressing the pads of his fingers up against her g-spot. “You’ll feel so much better once we fuck you, I promise.”

Carol watched with heavily lidded eyes as the omega’s attention was sparked by Steve’s use of the collective we. Likely it was only Loki’s magic that kept her from lashing out as viciously as they knew she was capable of. In spite of it, her little teeth showed, sharp incisors flashing in a botched hiss. The prime poised himself over her carefully with a small grin, fingers still fucking into her with vigor while he rested his weight on his elbow next to her head.

“It’s gonna be okay omega, it’s gonna be okay,” he cooed quietly against her ear, removing his hand only to pull his cock from his pants. “Take deep breaths, baby.”

“Don’t—” She didn’t sound distressed, the omega sounded aroused and desperate, “I—”

“Shhhh,” the prime’s lips skimmed over her cheeks, down her nose while his hand guided his dick up and down her slick folds until he was dripping with her arousal. “I’m gonna take care of you, precious. We’re gonna take care of you.”

The sound that escaped the omega’s lips as he slipped into her was goosebump inducing in the best way. She whined as the head popped in, breath hitching with every millimetre that came thereafter—and there were a lot of them. The omega was squirming, her heels scrambling against the blankets and both Loki and Carol found themselves having to focus much harder than expected on keeping her still while Steve bottomed out.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Loki cooed, his nose brushing the line of her jaw. “I know it’s a lot but you’re taking it beautifully. Stay still love, just relax we’ll hold you.”

“That’s right ‘mega,” Steve groaned as he withdrew, the squelch of her cunt making his teeth clench. “We’ll do all the work precious, you just have to be a good girl and take my cock.”

It was easier said than done and everyone in the room save Thor was fully aware of that. The omega’s sweet little whines and cries were causing a massive feedback loop of arousal in the pack’s consciousness and Carol was pretty sure she could hear the sounds of several people going at it but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from where Steve’s cock was drilling into that pretty cunt. Evidently said feedback loop was also affecting Steve, who very suddenly growled possessively.

“Carol, Loki, off,” The prime snapped barely hesitating before dropping his elbows into the pillows on either side of the omega’s head, narrowly avoiding giving his pack mates concussions. “Now.”

Both the alpha and the delta were yanked off the bed by their ankles—well, Carol was yanked off the bed. Loki was yanked off the bed and then promptly thrown into the wall by said ankles. The reinforced exterior wall meant there was only a small dent where the god had landed, but the ensuing ruckus had a strong potential of causing even more damage. Thor immediately turned to deal with the problem, along with several other packmates.

Several things occurred in the next few seconds and the pack would probably fight about what really happened for the next twenty years, but somehow Bucky was thrown through the window and Tony’s right ring finger was broken.

And Wanda—poor Wanda, Thor pushed her out of the way before Bucky could accidentally take her through the window with him. The beta was sent flying, sailing across the bed until she hit the unyielding form of Steve. He startled in shock, immediately drawing back to assess her condition—only for a heel to slam directly into his nose. The prime’s head snapped back from the force, big body falling backwards while his hands scrambled for purchase on his face.

The omega probably would’ve even gotten down the stairs if Natasha hadn’t been ascending the stairs at that moment, having heard the commotion from where she and Clint had been putting away groceries. The redhead smelled her before seeing her, a somewhat sinister grin pulling Nat’s lips when the omega ran directly into her while attempting escape #2.

“Now where are you going, kitten? With that mess dripping down your thighs,” the beta cooed, head tilting as she scented the air. “Why can I smell Steve on you, but not his cum?”

There was a horrible, long pause while the omega seemed to consider her options before landing on Go For Broke. She attempted to dodge past Natasha but the beta’s strong arm immediately lashed around her waist, her superior strength making it easy to force her up the stairs even as she refused to hold her own weight.

Steve met them just two steps from the top, dick out and covered in blood. The prime’s expression wasn’t so much angry as it was disappointed and Natasha hummed in false sympathy.

“Someone’s been naughty, huh kitten?”

content warnings: nonconsensual sex, voyeurism

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #sam wilson x reader #carol danvers x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #clint barton x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #bruce banner x reader #tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!avengers #omegaverse #abo dynamics #will potentially reblog with tags if i remember no promises

1K notes · View notes

eliemo · 4 years

Text

Kiss Me (Before I Set the World on Fire)

Summary: Virgil should have told Roman why it bothered him so much. He would have understood. He should have known staying silent would just lead to something far worse.

Taglist: @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess (let me know if you want to be added)

“Oh my god, what now?”

Virgil forced himself not to flinch at the exasperation in Roman’s tone, instead crossing his arms and forcing himself to match the Prince's glare.

“What? I literally didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly!” Roman stood, reaching over to pause the recording. “You’re just sitting here sulking! Come on, Charlie Frown, why are you so against this video?”

Virgil sighed, running a hand over his face, wishing they could just drop the whole thing and disappear under the covers of Roman’s bed, letting everything but the two of them fade away for the rest of the day.

But apparently, Roman had gotten it into his head that he and Virgil needed to film some sort of “couples video” for Thomas’s channel and had spent the last week begging Logan to talk Thomas into it.

It wasn’t that Virgil was completely against the idea. It was hard to be completely against anything when he was doing it with Roman. It was just...they’d only been dating a little over a month, both still fighting to work around their own fears and insecurities to make things work, and Virgil wasn’t sure how he felt about putting their new dynamic out in the open for the whole world to see.

That, and the fact that today was just a bad day. It wasn’t anything unusual- just one of those days where Virgil’s anxiety wouldn’t leave him alone, exhausted brain running on overdrive. Paranoia and racing thoughts had kept him up most of the night, but he’d been careful not to mention anything in an attempt to not ruin Roman’s good mood.

Seemed he’d managed to do that anyway.

“Because I just...don't know how I feel about it,” he said. “I mean, come on. Is anyone actually gonna care that we’re together?”

“Of course they will!”

“But...why can’t we just casually mention it in passing?” Virgil asked. “Why do we have to make a video about it at all? Does it have to be this big of a deal?”

Truthfully, Virgil had to constantly keep himself from telling every single person in the entire world how happy he was, how incredible it was that he and Roman had gotten together. A part of him, the part not ruled by crippling fear, wanted the entire world to see how perfect they were together, wanted to shout it from the rooftops and make an entire series declaring his undying love.

But the reality of the situation was that they weren’t perfect.

Roman was, of course. He was...he was Roman. He was the Prince, he was Thomas’s creativity, elegant and beautiful and kind.

And Virgil was...Virgil. He was anxiety and doubt, dark, gloomy, and scared, and all he did was drag everyone back.

He and Roman weren’t perfect, happy as they were together, simply because Virgil was there. Nothing was perfect when he was involved. He just...he tainted it.

Somehow though, Roman overlooked that. Roman loved him, and they made it work.

But not everyone else was going to see it that way. Not everyone was going to turn away from his flaws. People would see him and Roman together, see how much better Roman deserved, and they wouldn’t be afraid to say something.

And Roman...Roman did deserve better. And if enough people pointed out how awful Virgil was, made convincing enough arguments for why Prince should leave...maybe he’d decide they were right.

“It wasn’t a big deal until you made it one,” Roman shot back, and cold panic began to curl in Virgil’s gut at the bite in his tone. “Jeez, what’s your deal?”

Virgil knew full well that if he told Roman the real reason he was uneasy about the idea, if he’d asked for just a few days to unwind and rest and hopefully avoid the panic attack he could already feel building up, he would back off immediately and offer any help he could.

But Virgil still wasn’t great at asking for help.

“Because it’s a stupid idea!” God, why couldn’t he just control himself? “Sorry I don’t want to sit here for ten minutes listening to you- you- brag and shit!”

Roman barked a laugh, the sound humorless. “Brag? Right, that’s what I’ll do. Brag about my boyfriend who refuses to let anyone do anything fun.”

“Fun? How is this fun? It’s just gonna be you talking about yourself and how much more romantic you are, or whatever. No one cares, Princey. It’s just gonna turn out dumb and awkward.”

Something far too close to real hurt flashed in Roman’s eyes, the argument taking on a dangerous edge, but it was quickly squandered by something darker.

“I don’t just talk about myself.”

Virgil scoffed, hating himself more and more every minute. “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, what am I supposed to talk about?” Roman demanded, too loud, too close to genuine anger. “You? All you do is sulk and mope around and make me miserable!”

Virgil winced at the harsh words, falling silent and watching warily as Roman paced. He knew Roman could have a temper sometimes, knew his rants were mostly just for the sake of dramatics.

But...well, he did have every right to be truly upset this time.

“I mean seriously!” The prince continued. “Forgive me for actually being excited about an idea! I just wanted to make a video about being in love, but I should have realized you would just ruin it!”

The words were met with heavy silence, Virgil’s throat suddenly too tight to form a reply, Roman’s anger sitting heavy on his chest.

The Prince sighed, running a hand through his hair, but he didn’t look any less unhappy. “I shouldn’t...ignore that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He wondered if Roman meant Virgil ruining things, or that he was in love with him. He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Roman quickly answered his question. “Yeah, this...this isn’t gonna work, is it?”

The panic building up was suddenly replaced with sickening, ice cold fear.

Roman...Roman didn’t mean…?

“I don’t know why I thought this could be a good idea,” the Prince said. “Not when you can’t stop arguing with me for two seconds.”

Oh, god. Oh god, he was. “Wait, Ro--”

“What?” Roman snapped, turning on him all at once, gaze intense and expectant. “What, Virgil? What is it?”

Virgil flinched, frantically trying to think of a response, for any way to repair the damage he’d done today.

But...but if Roman didn’t think the two of them could work, if he’d realized how much better he deserved...wouldn’t he just get more upset if Virgil selfishly tried to get him to stay?

He wanted them to work. More than anything. For a while, he’d really thought they could.

But if Roman ended it now, if he left Virgil alone (After all, Virgil deserved to be alone, didn’t he?) it would break him. Virgil didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

He opened his mouth to say as much, not sure how to stop himself, wanting to beg and plead Roman to forgive him, to give him one more chance.

But the panic and nausea were making it impossible to force any words out, that dark, awful voice in his head screaming that he didn’t deserve to ask Roman to stay.

And Roman apparently took that as an answer, shoulders dropping as he scoffed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re not even gonna bother.”

“Roman...that’s not…”

“No, it’s fine!” The words were cold and biting. “Seriously, all good! See? You got your way. Again. It’s done. It’s over. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Over. Over, it was...god no, no no Roman was going to leave. He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t.

“Roman, I- I didn’t want—“

“Whatever, Virgil.” Roman scooped up the camera before stalking over to the door and holding it open. “If you don’t mind? I’d like to be alone so I can continue bragging about myself. I’m sure you’re ecstatic to get away from all that.”

“Roman...Ro, please, I didn’t mean—“

“Get out, Virgil.”

Virgil felt numb. Slowly, unable to look up and see Roman’s face twisted in hatred, he pushed himself away from the table they’d stationed themselves at, and stepped away, everything achingly silent except for Prince’s heavy breathing.

Virgil didn’t even bother walking to the door, not even sure he could stay upright that long. He just sunk out, and as the floor disappeared under him, he wondered if he would ever be welcomed back in Roman’s room.

His own bedroom was frigid, dark, and empty, and Virgil almost felt like he was being sent to a prison cell with how gloomy it looked.

It suited him, he supposed. Dark and brooding and...and alone.

Had...had he and Roman just…

“This isn’t going to work, isn’t it?”

They hadn’t fought like that in months. It had stopped some time before they’d gotten together, but today it was like all their progress had been undone.

Virgil had done that. Virgil had single handedly ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. All because he couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.

Roman finally realized Virgil had never changed. That Virgil would only bring him down, make him miserable.

And so he’d left him.

“I don’t know why I thought this could be a good idea!”

Virgil couldn’t move from where he stood in the middle of his room, everything far away and cold. He felt himself sink to the floor, felt the first few tears slip down his face before he began to sob.

Everything was falling apart. The world was crashing down around him, his own crying, loud, obnoxious, pathetic wails that bounced across his walls piercing to his own ears, bile rising up in his throat.

Roman was right. Virgil ruined everything. No wonder he made Creativity so miserable.

Virgil decided he’d actually rather leap out a window than join the others for dinner that night. He wasn’t even sure he could if he wanted to.

He hadn’t moved from the floor for what had to be a couple of hours at least, shaking and sobbing and viciously tearing his nails through the carpet.

By the time he’d cried himself out, he’d been far too exhausted to even consider moving, curled up on his side staring blankly at the light from the bottom of the door.

Patton had knocked some time later, cheerfully informing the anxious side that dinner was ready. It was only after a few moments of silence, when Patton’s voice grew worried and his knocking turned almost frantic, that Virgil forced himself to speak and claim he wasn’t hungry.

“You feeling ok?” Patton had asked, gentle and caring as ever. “Do you want me to bring you something? I can send Roman to--”

“No, Patton.” He hadn’t meant to snap, his disgust with himself only growing to an unbearable ache, but even just the Prince’s name threatened to bring a fresh wave of sobs to the surface. “I- I’m fine, Pat.”

Patton had mercifully left him alone after that, not prying after the wobble in his voice but promising to leave a plate in the fridge for whenever he wanted.

Virgil wondered how Roman was doing. If he even missed him at all. It was doubtful, he’d made a decision but...what they’d had was good. It had been. At least while it lasted.

They’d only been together a little over a month, but Virgil honestly wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do without Roman now.

He loved him. He loved him so much. He hadn’t really been able to convince himself he could deserve happiness like this until Roman proved otherwise, literally scooping him off his feet and showing him just how wrong he was.

And he’d let him think that maybe...maybe he was helping Roman too. Maybe slowly, they could both bring out the best in each other.

And Virgil had managed to undo all of that in one day. All because he couldn’t suck it up and keep his stupid mouth shut for one minute.

Eventually, when the sky darkened and the mindscape was quiet, Virgil dragged himself off the floor, changed into sweats, pulled his hood over his head, and crawled into bed.

It felt cold and empty without Roman’s arms around him.

Virgil buried himself in the blankets, hugging his pillow close to his chest, not bothering to try and stop his crying. He deserved to be miserable, didn’t he? He’d certainly put everyone else through enough misery for a lifetime.

He wondered if Roman would even talk to him after tonight, or if the Prince would just shut Virgil’s existence out completely.

Maybe things would go back to how they used to be, the two of them practically enemies, Roman treating Anxiety like the villain he’d always known he was.

In the end, Virgil supposed it didn’t really matter how he was treated now. He’d lose Roman either way.

He’d felt heartbreak through Thomas, of course, more than once. But this...this was so much different. So much worse.

It was heavy, a weight sitting on his chest, restraining him, keeping him pinned down until he couldn’t breathe. And it hurt. It hurt worse than anything he’d ever known.

Coupled with the panic that hadn’t gone away, Virgil was left a crying, trembling mess in his bed.

He stayed like that until what had to be nearly one in the morning, unable to fall asleep, the hours passing by in meaningless blurs, breath catching when he heard the doorknob turn.

Virgil went very still, careful to keep his ragged breathing quiet and shallow, hoping that whoever it was would just hurry up and go away.

He didn’t have the energy to explain to Patton or Logan what had happened. He didn’t think he knew how to say it aloud.

“I know you’re awake, Virgil.”

That was Roman’s voice, the Prince standing in the dark entryway, and Virgil felt blinding panic reach up and seize his heart.

“Come on,” Roman said, and while he didn’t sound as angry as he had that afternoon, he certainly didn’t sound happy. “Are you going to keep pouting or can we talk?”

Virgil didn’t answer, didn’t move from where he lay with his face against the pillow, but he listened as Roman sighed and slowly made his way over to the bed.

What more could Roman possibly have to say?

Virgil kept his eyes shut, refusing to cause Roman any guilt by breaking down in front of him. He felt the mattress dip as the Prince lowered himself on the edge of the bed.

“Look--”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said before Roman could finish. “I...I’m sorry. For ruining it.”

It was followed by a string of heavy silence that stretched on an unbearably long time, and Virgil could practically feel Roman’s eyes on him.

“Don’t be,” Roman said eventually. “And you didn’t. I didn’t mean to...it was gonna end that way eventually, right?”

Virgil froze, remembering the yelling, the awful fight he’d caused that had pushed Roman to his breaking point.

Roman had just...expected that?

“It...it was?”

“I mean, probably,” Roman said, with an air of nonchalance that hurt worse than any amount of shouting could. “And it’s not a big deal that it didn’t work. It was just...a silly idea. Totally impulsive on my part.”

Virgil huffed a laugh, the sound dangerously close to turning into a sob.

“Yeah,” he said, because that was true at least. He loved Roman more than anything, but he still couldn’t comprehend what could have possessed Roman to show an interest in him. “It...it wasn’t silly to me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Roman scoffed, and Virgil winced. Prince must have noticed, because he quickly continued. “Look, I’m...I’m sorry I yelled. I think we both got a little worked up.”

It was Virgil’s fault. He’d ruined it. He deserved to be alone.

“Ok.”

“Seriously, Virge. It’s not a big deal. Can’t we just...move on?”

He hated this. He hated this. Acting like they could just go back to being acquaintances, like nothing had ever happened between them, like breaking Virgil’s heart didn’t even matter.

He didn’t answer, digging his nails into his palms in a vain attempt at forcing back rising tears, praying that Roman would hurry up and leave him alone.

There was a hand on his shoulder, the touch achingly familiar, and Virgil jerked away with a panicked gasp.

“Don’t.”

“Virge—”

“Roman, please.” He struggled to sit up, the hurt only worsening at the confused exasperation he’d heard in Roman’s voice. “I can’t do that, I can’t...I don’t know how to just pretend...fuck, Roman I don’t know what to do without you!”

God, he was pathetic. Roman had finally opened his eyes and decided he deserved better, and here Virgil was, useless as always, unable to let go.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he choked out, vision blurred by new tears, the guilt and disgust suffocating. “Please, Ro, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry f- for- for fucking up, I’m sorry just- just please give me another chance I can- I’ll--”

He cut off with a broken sob as Roman’s hands were suddenly on his face, cupping both his cheeks and forcing him to look the Prince in the eyes.

“What are you talking about?” He was frantically searching Virgil’s watering eyes, horrified realization dawning. “Did you think I meant...Virgil have you been laying here all night thinking I broke up with you?”

Virgil’s breathing was quickly turning to ragged gasps as he desperately tried to muffle his crying, face burning in frustrated shame when the tears just continued to fall. There was absolutely no way for him to hold back another sob when Roman began wiping them away with his thumbs, looking strangely pained.

“Y-you s-said...you said i-it wouldn’t- w-wouldn’t work, y-you...you said--”

“Oh, darling no.”

Roman’s arms were suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him close, and Virgil didn’t think twice before falling against his chest, clutching desperately at the Prince’s shirt and wailing.

It all came spilling out again at the feeling of Roman’s arms around him, holding him like he’d protect the anxious side with his life. It was everything Virgil had grown accustomed to these last weeks. Everything he didn’t want to lose.

“It’s alright,” Roman said softly, holding Virgil tight as he cried. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry, Virgil, I’m so sorry. It was just an argument, darling, don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

“Y-you- you said you knew,” Virgil sobbed, anguished cries muffled against Roman’s chest. “You knew it w-would end, you- you s-said it was over I-I thought--”

“Oh no, darling I wasn’t talking about us. I was talking about the video, Virgil. I was angry about the stupid video. It was just a fight, V. I’m so sorry for saying those things.”

Roman kept talking, rocking them both gently where they sat on Virgil’s bed, rubbing circles along the anxious side’s back. He would tighten his protective hold each time Virgil’s cries would grow loud again, devastated bawling that wouldn’t stop even with Roman’s reassurances.

But eventually the sobbing faded, leaving Virgil hiccuping and gasping for air, panic and sorrow fading and making way for utter exhaustion and hopeful relief as Roman’s words set in.

“I...I don’t want to be in here,” he said, as soon as he found his voice. “Can we--?”

“Of course.”

Roman was immediately sinking out, Virgil still held carefully in his arms, the two of them reappearing in the middle of Prince’s unmade bed in seconds. It seemed like neither of them had been able to sleep.

Roman guided them both backwards until they were laying down, still chest to chest, one hand reaching back to pull the covers up and over them. Virgil let out one more trembling breath, taking a moment to lay against Prince’s now tear soaked shirt, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing in Roman’s scent, taking in his arms around him, his steady breathing in his ear.

“So,” Virgil said after a moment, quiet and hesitant. “Just to, um, clarify. You’re not...you aren’t breaking up with me?”

Roman pulled back from where he’d had his nose pressed against Virgil’s hair, just enough so he could crane his neck to get a better look at the other side, eyes wide and filled with his own, unshed tears.

“No,” he insisted, almost desperate. “No, darling never. I never want to leave you, Virgil. I promise. You’re stuck with me.”

Virgil huffed, glancing up to give Roman a timid smile. “I’m not gonna hold you to that promise. I get it. I’m...a lot. Clearly.”

Roman leaned forward to press a kiss into Virgil’s hair. “You’re a lot of things like perfect, and beautiful, and magnificent--!”

“Oh my god.” Virgil’s cheeks were on fire, despite it just being the two of them in the dimly lit room, and he quickly buried his face back into the Prince’s shirt.

“And,” Roman continued, a bit softer. “I’m very sorry for raising my voice at you. I didn’t even realize, I...I overreacted. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure I yelled first, Princey,” Virgil said. “I was an ass. And I didn’t mean it, either. The video...wasn't stupid. It was just...I was stressed and I freaked out. Bad day, I guess.”

Roman moved one hand to start running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp, and Virgil’s eyelids fluttered at the blissful feeling. “What’s bothering you, Love?”

Dammit. Roman really knew how to break down his defenses.

“I- I guess the idea of making...us public is...it just stresses me out sometimes. I’ve known you wanted to for a while and I’ve been stupidly anxious about it. I should have told you.”

Roman was silent a moment, never stilling the movement of his fingers, and Virgil could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“You...you know I’d never force you to do that video, right? Whether you needed more time, or you never wanted to do it at all, I wouldn’t have been upset with you.”

Roman was always unbelievably patient with him. He had a temper sometimes, they both did, but he was more than willing to take things as slow as Virgil needed. Anything to make him comfortable.

With Roman, Virgil had never felt more safe in his life. Feeling pressured hadn’t been the issue at all.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Can I...ask why it upsets you so much?”

“I just…” And really, what else was there to say but the blatant truth? “I just still can’t believe that I’m with you. That you like me. Out of anyone.”

The hand in his hair slowed, just for a moment, and he could almost picture Princey’s puzzled expression. “I’m...not following.”

“You deserve the world, Roman,” Virgil said. “And I want to give that to you because...because I- I love you. And I just get it into my head that if people find out we’re together...they’ll see how much better you deserve. Because you should have everything and you...you got me. And I know you’re ok with that, but I just worry that if enough people tell you to leave you’ll realize you--”

He was abruptly cut off by Roman’s lips over his own, the Prince suddenly on top of him with one hand still behind Virgil’s head, the other tilting his chin upwards.

Obviously they’d kissed countless times before, but to Virgil each time felt like the first all over again. He didn’t think he would ever get used to this feeling, fiery warmth that spread through his body, the way he practically came undone when Roman brushed his lips, everything perfectly at peace when they fit together.

Roman pulled away, cheeks flushed as he looked down at Virgil’s equally red face, their noses almost touching.

“I love you.”

It was said suddenly, with so much force and desperation, and Virgil blinked, momentarily caught completely off guard. “I- thank you? I love you too, but--”

He stopped when Roman was suddenly pressing a kiss to his forehead, pulling away a few seconds later with another hushed “I love you.”

“Roman--”

Roman kept going like that, pressing meaningful, gentle kisses to almost every inch of Virgil’s face, cradling his jaw like something delicate. With each kiss Prince would whisper another soft, “I love you,” just loud enough for Virgil to hear.

When he was done he didn’t go far, warm hands still delicately framing Virgil’s face, looking down at him with what could only be described as awe.

“God, I love you,” Roman said again, and Virgil was almost positive his face was the color of the Prince's sash by now. “Virgil, I’m happier than I’ve ever been when I’m with you. You know that, right?”

“I...I guess, but--”

Roman pressed another quick kiss to his lips, and he clearly wasn’t expecting a back and forth discussion seeing as Virgil was far too flustered to form coherent answers.

“I’m supposed to be the sappy one, you know,” Roman said when he pulled away with a smirk, the smile quickly dropping into something more serious. “You are my world, darling. I do have everything. Because I have you. I wouldn’t give this up for anything, and a stupid comment from a jealous idiot who has no idea how beautiful you are won’t ever change that. Do you understand?”

For a moment, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to speak, the words getting jumbled and caught up in his tightening throat. Roman’s voice was swirling around his head, forcing the dark anxious thoughts to finally retreat, replaced only with overwhelming love and lighthearted giddiness.

It was a wonder Virgil had any tears left to cry, but suddenly his vision was blurring and Roman’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I just...I- I thought--”

It was Virgil’s turn to cut Roman off with a kiss, this one a bit more sloppy and desperate as he grabbed Roman’s collar and dragged him back down, but he savored the feeling all the same.

When it was over, Roman was watching him with wide eyes, brimming with hope and worry, and Virgil found himself smiling.

“You dork,” he muttered, and Roman instantly relaxed. “I’m not...good at this like you are but...me too. All of that. You...you’re perfect, Roman. I don’t know what I did right to deserve you.”

“You think I don’t wonder how I got lucky enough for you to love me?” Roman asked, smiling when Virgil carefully reached up to wipe away the Prince’s own tears. “I’m not letting go of this, Stormcloud. Unless...unless you ever change your mind.”

Virgil moved to wrap his arms around Roman, guiding him back down until he was laid against his chest, the Prince’s head rested comfortably on his shoulder, the weight warm and grounding.

“Not a chance, Princey,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment just to listen to Roman’s breathing. “We can film the video.”

He felt Roman freeze, just for a second. “I- really?”

“Yeah.” Somehow, the idea wasn’t quite as terrifying as it had been before. “Just...maybe in a few days, if that’s ok.”

“Of course!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil could hear the excitement in his voice. “We can do it whenever you’re ready.”

“Maybe we could...plan it out a bit more tomorrow. Work on a more concrete script.”

“Good idea,” Roman agreed. Reaching over to take Virgil’s hand. “I suppose I got a little carried away in my excitement. I shouldn’t have dragged you into a video like that...I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“And I’m sorry for being an asshole about it,” Virgil said. “I should have just talked to you. I’m still not...great at telling people when somethings bothering me.”

“Your comfort is my top priority. Always. Never be afraid to tell me these things, Virgil. How else am I supposed to protect you?”

Virgil scoffed, this time light and good natured, and Roman chuckled along with him. “Protecting you is my job, Ro. But...but I will. I promise.”

“I know it’s not easy,” Roman said. “And it’s not your fault, I’m not angry. All I ask is that you try. I’m always going to be here.”

Roman had said that before, of course, he knew where Virgil’s fears and insecurities stemmed from.

But now, the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, it was the first time Virgil had ever been able to believe the words without hesitation, the doubts completely silent.

He listened to Roman’s breaths slow and even out, felt him relax completely against Virgil’s chest, the anxious side still wide awake despite his exhaustion.

“I love you too, by the way,” he whispered when he was fairly certain Roman had fallen asleep. “So, so much. I wish I was better at saying it.”

Roman said nothing, but Virgil felt him squeeze his hand and run his thumb along his knuckles, a silent communication somehow letting Virgil know that it was ok, that they were both learning.

Virgil smiled and closed his eyes, completely at ease in the Prince’s hold. And he realized, just before he succumbed to sleep, that a small part of him was actually looking forward to that video.

Honestly, how could he not if it meant he would see Roman smile at him?

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #ts patton #writing #fanfiction #theyre soft and gay #and so in love

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13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

Terrible plans paved with good intentions (Mal x Reader)

Request: R and mal are secretly dating so one of the other youngins hits on R all the time and we get to see a jealous mal?

Authors note: This one was like uber fun to write, so i really hope you enjoy it. Also, Reader is used to lots of physical contact and affection from the youngins. Anyway, Enjoy! hit me up with requests, questions or if you just wanna say hi!

The youngins were concerned. Very concerned. You and Mal were acting strangely. The two of you were always together, and the young forward seemed to be the only person in the team with the ability to get you to crack a smile. It was obvious from the way that the two of you interacted that you liked each other. The problem was that both of you seemed to be too chicken to do anything about it.

Hell, Emily had even asked you point blank if you were dating Mal, to which you had snorted and walked away. They just wanted you guys to be happy, and the one thing that would make you and Mal the happiest would be if you were dating. So it seemed that the only option was for them to meddle to get the two of you together.

“Y/n and Mal are either blind or oblivious”

“Or both,” Emily snorted, as she watched you chase Mal around the field, trying to steal back the ball you had been messing around with.

“She lets her borrow her snapbacks and everything,” Lindsey smirked as you tackled Mal to the ground, and she grabbed your signature hat off your head. You just smiled down at the girl, placing a kiss on her forehead before standing and going back to juggling the soccer ball.

“Are you three thinking what I’m thinking?” Emily smiled at Lindsey, Sam, and Rose wiggling her eyebrows. This was the perfect opportunity to meddle. The perfect opportunity to both prank the two of you and get you to finally admit your feelings.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I want nothing to do with it. Last time we messed with Y/n she almost ripped our heads off,” Sam said raising her hands. She wanted nothing to do with whatever scheme Emily’s diabolical mind thought up, she still had mental scars from how scary you were when you were angry. How you had taken every opportunity you could to make practice the next day horrible for all of them.

“That’s because we ruined her favorite shirt,” Lindsey rolled her eyes. This wouldn’t end up like that, as you would be extremely happy about your newfound relationship.

“So now you just wanna ruin her friendship with Mal,” Rose laughed, quirking an eye up at team blond. She was pretty sure you would rather have Mal as a friend than nothing at all, and she knew Mal felt the same. You were both terrified of losing your friend, and getting over that wasn’t something that could (or should) be rushed.

“No, we wanna make them more than friends,” Emily wined, waving her arms wildly. You both felt the same so why should you have to wait?

“I’m out,” Sam said firmly, seconded by Rose’s “Me too!”. They would rather watch you dance around your feelings than suffer the wrath of a pissed off you and Mal.

“Losers,” Lindsey called after them as they jogged away. She and Em didn’t need their help anyway. So, the plan to get the star forwards together began. What they didn’t know was that you and Mal were much more than friends...

****

You panted on the field, walking as a cool down from the intense scrimmage you had just participated in. You had been against Emily, Kelley, and Becky, and it was a fucking nightmare. And with JJ in their midfield, you had spent a lot of time trying to out-maneuver the women.

In ninth-two degree heat, trying to score had taken a lot out of you. It also had sweat dripping down your forehead, which you were dabbing with the bottom of your tank top.

“Hey hot stuff, you look like a fucking rockstar today,” Emily jogged up beside you, winking and swatting at your exposed abs. You instantly dropped your tank top.

“Thanks, Em, you looked pretty good too,” You laughed at the defender, patting her head, before returning your gaze to the forward that had stolen your heart.

You made to jog off but were stopped by Emily’s hand in your arm, subtly squeezing your bicep.

“It’s kinda warm out here isn’t it?” She asked, fluttering her eyelashes at you.

You glanced down at were her fingers were testing your muscles, a light sheen of red covering your cheeks from being blatantly hit on. Your mind raced for a way to let her down easy, and hopefully not ruin your friendship or the team dynamic.

“Um, I guess,” You started, your tongue feeling like lead in your mouth. You carefully pulled your arm away to rub the back of your neck, sending help me eyes to your girlfriend from across the field.

When you turned back around, Emily had managed to pull her tank top clean off and wrap it like a towel around her neck. Your eyes widened and your mouth went dry and you purposefully stared at her in the eyes. “whoa, why are you taking your shirt off,” you covered your face with your hands, much like a two-year-old playing hide and seek.

“Cause I’m hot, don’t you agree?” Emily smirked at you, nearly giggling at how adorable you were (and not missing the glare that Mal was sending her way). It was also kinda cute how you refused to look anywhere but towards Mal, the ground, or her eyes.

“That-, um-, I-, uh,” you stuttered, turning completely away from the woman. Yes, you were in love with Mal, but you also had eyes, and the women on the national team were very attractive. You felt like you were in high school talking to a pretty cheerleader and not one of your best friends.

“Relax Y/n,” She murmured, her eyebrows furrowing at how flustered you were. She didn’t think that something this simple would turn you into a stuttering, blushing mess. You had a reputation as a flirt, so she was surprised by your reaction.

“I’m gonna go,” you muttered softly, nearly sprinting towards where Lindsey was standing with Mal, wrapping the smaller girl up in your arms.

It was interesting the way that Mal’s fingers ran through your hair, and you just melted into her. How the fuck could you not realize that you were in love with her.

****

After your very strange encounter with Emily on the pitch, you had hoped that the weight session would be uneventful. You had gotten to cuddle with Mal on the bus ride and you were supposed to be paired with her for the workout. What you didn’t know was that it’s was Lindsey’s turn to try out Emily’s plan.

Sure, Mal had glared at them, and you two had been a little too touchy-feely in the ride over, but you still hadn’t confessed your feelings for one another. At least that’s what team blond thought.

So here you were, standing in front of the squat rack, sending confused eyes to Mal in the mirror, your tongue lolling out the side to get her to giggle. You were so busy making faces at Mal that you didn’t notice Lindsey approach you.

“Hey sexy, need a spot?” She whispered into your ear, her lips caressing the shell as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

You jumped at the feeling, an unpleasant shiver running down your back. “Shit,”

“Whoa there,” She murmured, kissing your cheek as she steadied the two of you. Your cheeks flushed when you realized just how close to you she was, and you immediately pulled away.

“Umm, I, thought you were paired with Emily,” You mumbled, scratching the back of your neck.

“I switched with Mal,” Lindsey smirked at you, not missing how you looked longingly over her shoulder at the said woman.

“So, need a spot?” Lindsey asked, gesturing towards the squat rack.

“Yeah, I guess,” You sighed, wincing slightly at Mal’s glare. You were in trouble with her and you knew it. But it really wasn’t your fault that people were hitting on you, you weren’t the one who didn’t wanna tell all your friends you were dating.

You grabbed the bar, positioning it on your shoulders, and Lindsey stepped into position behind you. Except instead of the normal spot, she wrapped her hands around your waist, her fingers playing with the hem at the front of your workout shirt.

“Hey Lindsey, you don’t have to grab my waist, I got it,” You stuttered our, your pink cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

“I know, but I like being close to you,” She hummed into your ear, placing a kiss on the back of your neck. You thanked God that she was standing there because you dropped the bar at the action. You scrubbed your hands over your eyes, barely able to get the “I-, um-, I-I think I’m done,” out of your mouth before you escaped.

Across the gym, Mal watched the interaction with disdain. Her grip on the dumbbell tightening incremental with every move Lindsey made. How could you stand there and blush while Lindsey was making a move on you?

Mal knew that you held no romantic feelings for Lindsey or Emily, but it didn’t make her feel any less jealous when they were practically throwing themselves at you.

“If you grip that bar any harder Mal Pal, you’re going to pull a muscle,” Emily snickered, shivering slightly at Mal’s deadly glare.

“Shut up Sonnett,” She snapped.

“Whoa there, careful or someone might think you’re jealous,” The blond smirked, eyeing the way Mal was sharing glances with your very wide eyes in the mirror. She never knew that you were so easy to fluster.

“Whatever,” Mal scoffed, dropping the weight and heading towards the locker room, and Sonnett wasn’t even surprised when you followed mere seconds after.

*****

Emily and Lindsey waited exactly 10 minutes before heading to the locker room, hoping that maybe you had pulled your head out of your ass and asked out Mal.

They carefully crept into the locker room, but instead of being met with the preferable sight of You mad Mal cuddled up together, they were met with you sitting on the bench with your head in your hands and Mal pacing like there was no tomorrow. If the scowl on her face meant anything, you two weren’t having a good conversation.

“That’s not my fault Mal,” You said far too calmly, scrubbing your eyes with your hands in frustration.

“Well you sure as hell didn’t try and stop them,” Mal growled back, running her hands through her hair and pulling angrily at the strands. Who gave Lindsey and Emily the right to hit on you? To touch you?

“Yeah, because my repeated attempts to get your attention weren’t a sign that I needed help,” You nearly yelled one exasperation, standing and blocking her path, hands placed firmly in your hips.

“Well maybe if you weren’t such a gay mess around our teammates everything would have been fine. You practically let them grope you,” She grumbled, waving her hands in dramatically. Yes, your red cheeks and stuttering were adorable, but only when it was happening with her. Sonnett and Lindsey shouldn’t get to experience that.

You sighed. It wasn’t like you could tell the women to hit the road without telling them that you were dating. And you didn’t want to be rude to them, they were your friends.

“What do you exp-..” You started softly, only to be cut off by her soft lips claiming your own. You melted into her, letting her tongue explore your mouth with ease.

She pulled away suddenly, keeping her forehead on your own. “You’re mine Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n got it,”

“Mm yes ma’am,” You mumbled, connecting your lips again. They were like your drug, you just couldn’t get enough.

“When the fuck did this happen?” Lindsey exclaimed, and you and Mal jumped apart, a bright red blush coloring your cheeks.

“Like 6 months ago,” Mal stated fondly, grabbing your hand and pulling you back into her embrace. You immediately relaxed against her.

“Holy shit,” Lindsey said breathlessly, staring at you with wide eyes.

“See, my plan worked,” Emily smirked, nudging her bond counterpart with her shoulder. Lindsey rolled her eyes at the woman. You had clearly not appreciated their advances on you.

“No your plan made them fight, they were already together,” Lindsey snarked back, glaring at the other woman, and sending you a sorry smile.

“So that’s why you guys were turning my baby into a gay mess?” Mal asked, crossing her arms and staring at Lindsey and Emily expectantly, while you shrunk behind her. You loved Mal and no one hitting on you was gonna change that, plus she was hot when she was agitated (as long as it wasn’t with you).

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #mal pugh x reader #mal pugh imagine

384 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 3 years

Text

Easy As A-B-C

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x Reader

Summery: Professor Lee is getting sick of marking papers, you offer an alternative. One where he doesn't need to think at all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, bimbofication (without hypnosis), oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, light dom/sub dynamic, dom!reader, sub!Gwil, overstimulation, maybe a little bit of hair pulling

Words: 4,537

A/N: This was massively massively inspired by my love @dracoladon and her Drarry fic Lucid (seriously, go read it because she’s a much better writer than me and also sex dumb Draco is hhhhhhh). Reading it made me want to write more himbo fics but without all the hypnosis stuff thats in my Future Management series. Then I got talking to @peachydeacon about himbo!Rog which led to talking about himbo!Gwil and this fic is the result of our discussion lmao. It was also partly inspired by a post on a porn blog that popped up on my dash but I can’t link to that because tumblrs dumb.

Also, it is a professor gwil fic but set after reader has graduated so it’s all above board lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 24

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

Gwilym looked unreasonably hot while he was grading papers, his brow knitted, wearing a look of serious concentration made all the more noticeable by the reading glasses sliding down his nose. His loose tie and the undone top buttons of his business shirt lent him a casually dishevelled air, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way he absentmindedly twisted his pen between his fingers as he read and reread sentences he was struggling to understand, occasionally pausing to underline something or write a note in the margins. It all painted a very sexy image, the kind of serious sexy only a professor could achieve, though this sexiness was nowhere near new. You’d found his manner oddly arousing even when he’d been your professor. Of course, that had been a few years ago and well before you’d had your chance encounter in the local second hand bookstore that led you to ask him out. He’d stuttered out something about never having even thought of you as more than his student and “really I feel almost as if I’ll get in trouble for the conversation as soon as I get back to campus.” But the awkwardness soon changed when you confessed to having had a minor crush on him back in the day and having since hoped to run into him. He seemed more open to the idea of dinner with you after that and, if you were being honest, more cocky too, but cocky in a decidedly dignified and charming way. Anyway, one thing led to another and now here you were somewhere close to a year and half later and you were struggling not to stare at Gwil as he graded papers and looked professor-ally disarrayed and hot.

You knew it was something to do with the Romantic era poets that the students had to write about because he’d read a question out to you earlier to get your opinion of if it was confusingly worded. “No, I don’t think so,” “Then why in god’s name do none of my students get it?” he looked about ready to hit his head against the desk until he passed out but he returned to the topmost paper with a sigh and ruffled hair from where he’d run his hand through it. That’s when you’d started trying not to stare. A tall order when all you could think about was dragging Gwil to the bedroom and ravishing him enough to make him forget all about John Keats and poetry and the English language itself. Not that that was exactly hard. No, Gwilym had a tendency to get a little dazed and confused when you really gave it to him. Sex drunk you’d decided to call it. A transformation that you quite delighted in witnessing and causing. Gwil was sharp as a tack usually, always ready with some obscure fact or quote from literature. It was part of what made him such a good teacher, his memory for all things bookish, as well as his approachable (if a little stern) demeanour and his determination to get the best from his students. But it wasn’t hard to shut down his brain, cloud his memory and entirely befuddle him. One time you’d snuck into the bathroom at the restaurant you’d gone to for dinner and poor Gwilym had become so spaced out he’d spilt half a glass of wine in his lap and then walked into the glass door as you left, even with you leading him by the hand. You supposed that what they said about great power and responsibility was true. All the same, it was a fun power to wield and you knew that, with the right sort of attention, you could have Gwilym babbling incomprehensible gibberish with no memory of what a poem even was, which was surely something he’d appreciate right about now.

You blinked yourself from your reverie as, finally, Gwil set his glasses aside and rose from his seat, groaning as he stretched out the stiffness in his back. He rolled his neck back and forth, your eyes following, before letting his shoulders drop and moving to sit next to you on the couch. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t read another word about Byron or I’ll loose it.” He sighed, draping an arm around your shoulders and leaning into your neck. “Byron? I remember that assignment. Everyone hated you for it,” His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, sending a tingle down your spine, “Well if this year’s lot is anything to go by, the feeling was probably mutual,” “Mmm, I remember one girl saying she was going to shove her copy of Don Juan up your arse if she didn’t pass,” He lifted his head again and laughed, “And yet my rectum remains Byron fee and no other injuries befell me, so either I taught you enough to get by or you were all a bunch of cowards,” “Bit of both probably. And why would this year’s be any different, huh?” “I don’t know, you haven’t read any of their attempts at cohesive analysis. Some of them are just throwing out terms like allusion and anapestic and personification all willy-nilly, clearly without properly understanding them. ” “I think you’re being too harsh on them. They’re first years after all and it’s not always easy to understand all that poncy poetical bullshit. Plus, you know it all already so of course everyone else seems stupid to you,” “Maybe,” he conceded, though it seemed to take some effort. “Honestly, someone should put you in their position, see how well you go with it,” “Yeah? And who would do something like that?” Gwilym laughed as you shifted to straddle his lap, accepting the kiss you offered, “You?” “Maybe I will. Spell personification for me,” “You know it’s not high school English, right. We don’t do pop quizzes on spelling and grammar.” “I know you don’t, but this is my subject and I’m testing spelling. Besides,” you let your hand drop between you, brushing lightly over the front of his pants, “I promise it’ll be fun.” Gwil gave a half-hearted eye roll, “P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N, personification. D’you want me to use it in a sentence too?” You knew he’d get it right. Gwil always had been good at spelling off the top of his head which you supposed was a side effect of all his reading and the years devoted to the written word. But it was still a little annoying. Mostly because he was being a bit of a tool about the whole thing, but it didn’t help that you’d grown quite wet thinking about how you’d like to have him, like to turn him into the fucked out airhead you’d seen before. You shook your head and tutted at him as if he got it wrong. “No, that’s definitely it. I’ve just read it about a hundred times, I know I’m right. P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N,” he spelt it faster that time, trying to prove that you were wrong. “Try allusion for me,” “A-L-L-U-S-I-O-N,” Right again. You sighed as if you were disappointed. Gwilym raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “What about caesura?” “C-E-A-S-U-R-A,” The mistake was an easy one to make, two letters flipped around the wrong way, and you could tell he knew it was wrong as soon as he’d said it. He was surprised when you leant forward to kiss him again, cupping his jaw with one hand as you dropped the other and slowly pulled down the zip on his work pants. “But I fucked up,” he said softly, eyes still closed as you pulled away a few centimetres. You just smiled as you thought of a new word, “Anapestic,” It was another word Gwil had mentioned as seeing in his student’s essays so you knew it would be fresh in his mind and he proved as much when he spelt it, “A-N-A-P-E-S-T-I-C,” He was right of course, so you tutted and pulled your hand away from his crotch, grabbing his chin with your other and forcing him to look at you, “You can do better than that.” His features shifted at the sudden loss of contact, the look of concentration returned once more. If anything, your much closer proximity to the expression made him seem all the more hot but you resisted the urge to give in and drag him to the bedroom, curious if he’d catch onto your little game now and, equally so, to see if he’d play along, “Try Onomatopoeia.” A longer word gave him more chances to get things wrong but would his pride and his brain allow that? Apparently so. “O-N-O-M-” Gwil paused and thought for a second, his eyes narrowed as his looked at you, “O-N-O-M-A-T-O-P-I-A,” the last three letters were said with such deliberate diction that you knew he’d figured it out. “Good boy,” you said, letting your hands slip inside his undone pants to massage his dick. His hips jolted at the contact and he let his hands fall to your arse, squeezing. “What about, dactyl?” His reply was instant, unthinking, and totally correct, “D-A-C-T-Y-L,” You clicked your tongue condescendingly as you once again removed your hands from him. “Fuck,” “Well that’s what happens when you get things wrong, honey, and such an easy one too,” “I didn’t get it wro- fine, give me another,” You smiled, unable to hide how delighted you were that he was interested in following your rules, even if it was just his competitive streak rearing its head to show that he could out smart you, “Assonance,” Gwilym spelt the word slowly and carefully, making sure to only say one ‘s’ and to leave off the ‘e’. And you made sure to reward him for it, shuffling backwards on his lap so you could shimmy his pants down his thighs and wrap your hand around his cock. He raised an eyebrow at you but otherwise made no comment as he leant back in his seat to enjoy the attention. “Romanticism,” Once again Gwilym was careful with his spelling, intentionally replacing the ‘c’ with a double ‘s’ but that was the kind of behaviour you wanted to encourage so you kept stroking him off, twisting your wrist, dragging your thumb over his flushed tip. It must have felt good with the way he was sighing, shifting his shoulders as if to move his whole body closer to yours. “So clever baby, what about,” you paused, dredging up memories of poetry analysis and the words you used to have burned into your brain but which you’d not had much use for recently, “Enjambment” “Ummm, E-N,” Gwil hummed as you leant over him and let a trail of spit drip onto his cock, using your hand to spread it over his length, “Enjamb-ment, uh, E-N-J-A- no E, no A, M-E-N-T,” You leant into his ear and spoke softly, “That’s right, being so good for me, so clever. What should I do next though? Ride you? Or maybe suck you off? Or just keep doing this?” “Uh,” Gwilym shook his head a little as if to clear it, “mouth? Please?” “Of course, baby. If you can spell dissonance for me.” You were quietly confident that he’d get the spelling wrong, already noticing the first sign of his impending brainlessness, extra filler words where he’d normally not need them. It was funny though, usually he wouldn’t reach that stage until he was much closer to nutting. “D-I-S” he rushed through the first three letters and then stopped, biting his lip, “T-um, A-N-E-N-C-E.” You were sure the errors in that word were less intentional than the previous few and, as promised, slipped off his lap and settled yourself between his legs, pulling his pants off so he could spread them wider for you. You held eye contact as you let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing along a vein, though you couldn’t help but smile as he groaned above you. “Can you spell Decasyllable for me?” you asked before closing your lips around the head of his cock. “What? Oh, um, D-E-C-K- fuck,” he broke off as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Fuck’s not a letter, baby,” you sank down on him again, bobbing a little lower. “I know, um, Deck-syllable, D-E-C-K-A-S-Y-B-L-E, I think. Is that right?” In answer you hummed and took him a little deeper, pushing his shirt up towards his chest. Gwilym took the hint and pulled it off before he grabbed your hair, leaning his head against the back of the couch. For a moment you just focused on sucking him off, listening to his shallow breathing and whiny groans. But you weren’t finished with your game yet.

“Epigraph?” you asked before bobbing down on him again, pushing yourself to take him deeper still. Gwilym remained silent as you gagged and pulled back from him again to breath freely. “Well?” “What did you say?” “Epigraph. Can you spell that?” He nodded as you resumed your bobbing, his hand grabbing at your hair, “E-P-P-E-G-R-A-F-F.” You hummed around him and his hips bucked up, pushing him further down your throat for a second. “No, don’t stop,” he whined under his breath as once again you let him fall from between your lips. “Sorry baby,” you wrapped your hand around his base and switched back to jerking him off, “you’re so hard though and I know you want to earn your orgasm like a good boy,” Gwilym nodded. “Okay, so spell meter,” “M- oh, I don’t know,” “You do know, baby, you just gotta try. Meter,” He scrunched his face up in thought, “M-E-E-T-R,” “See, I said you knew it, and you did it so well!” Gwilym gave you a dopey smile, looking proud at your praise, “I did?” His mouth dropped open with the movement of your hand. “Of course baby! You got it completely right because you’re so clever. What about sonnet, do you think you can do that one for me?” He nodded enthusiastically, “S-N-E-T,” “Very good! Okay, three more and I’ll let you cum,” “Okay!” “Okay, what about,” you thought for a moment, watching your hand pumping over his shaft as you trailed your fingernails lightly over his thigh, “Spell rhyme,” “Ummm,” Gwilym bit his lip in thought, soft grunting noises rising in his throat in time with your strokes. “It’s a bit of a tricky one,” “Yeah.” “And it’s hard to concentrate isn’t it?” “Mmhmm, so hard to con-ten-tate,” he thought for a little longer as you slowed your hand, “rrr- R-I-M,” “So clever baby! Okay canto,” “Oh! Ummm,” Gwilym pouted and whined as you unexpectedly drew the tip of your tongue around his head, “I don’ know,” “No?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay what about, poem?” Gwilym seemed to have reached the last dregs of his knowledge, grunting in frustration as he shook his head again.” “You sure you don’t know?” He bucked his hips up into your hand as he shook his head again. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one then. Spell your name for me, spell Gwilym,” Gwil’s eyes lit up at the suggestion but his face quickly slipped into a frown again, the expression getting more pronounced with every passing second he didn’t say anything. He sought out your face, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears, “I don’t…” his fists balled up as he looked to you for help. “You don’t remember?” He shook his head once more, a tear shaking loose and rolling down his cheek, “you said it was easy.” “It’s okay if you don’t know,” “Really?” he sniffled. “Of course it’s okay. You’re not supposed to know things.” “I’m not?” “Awww, of course not baby. That’s why I’m here, to know things, and you’re just here to make me happy.” Gwilym sighed and leaned back against the couch, smiling again. “Do you want to give it a try for me?” “Umm,” he whined as you slowed your strokes “It would make me very happy,” “Okay, umm…G? L? ummmm, M?” “You’re so clever, baby!” Gwilym giggled proudly and grinned at you as you adjusted your grip on his cock. “You’re my good, smart boy, aren’t you baby?” “Mmhmm,” he bucked his hips towards you as you took him into your mouth again. “Feels go-od,” he mumbled, almost panting with how close he was. You dragged the hand that rested on his thigh up to cup his balls as you sucked on his tip until he moaned and came, spilling his seed over your tongue.

You kept working your hand along his length, even after you’d pulled your mouth from him. “Was that a good orgasm baby? Did it make you feel good?” He nodded, pouting a little as you kept wanking him, “good oggsam,” It took all your effort not to laugh at that, biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting so much as a chuckle slip. Very few things delighted you as much as when Gwil forgot how to talk properly. “You know,” you said as you finally let his cock free, “sometimes when people have orgasms they feel euphoric. Do you feel euphoric?” “Mmhmm, you-porik.” “Clever boy. Do you want to help me feel euphoric?” “How?” “With your mouth,” “Oh! Okay!” You braced yourself against his knees as you stood, leaning forward to give Gwil a small kiss on the lips. He closed his eyes and smiled up at you contentedly as you shimmied out of your own clothes, dropping them all to the floor. “You going to let me lie down?” you asked, tapping Gwil on the shoulder. He looked around confusedly for a moment before his eyes settled on you, growing wider as he realised how naked you were. Without warning he surged forward, his hands grabbing your arse as he nuzzled his face in the valley between your breasts. If it were up to Gwil he would have stayed there all day but you had need for him elsewhere so you yanked his head back by his hair, earning a small noise of displeasure. “Don’t complain, baby. You want to make me feel euphoric, right?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed earnestly. “And how do you think you could do that?” “I don’t know,” “Maybe, cunnilingus?” “cun-un-un-un-gus,” “Exactly,” you directed his gaze down to your pussy, failing to hide your amused grin. But he was too far gone to notice, happily slipping to his knees in front of you. Telling him to wait for a second, you climbed onto the couch and spread your legs, beckoning him between them once you were comfortable.

He hadn’t been able to say the word but that didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled at the act. A string of soft hums and throaty sounds rose to your lips as he licked your cunt, the scratchy sensation of his beard only amplifying the soft, wet, warmth of his tongue. “Can you, oh, can you spell poem for me baby?” Gwilym hummed and then started naming letters, his mouth still pressed against your cunt as if he didn’t realise he couldn’t talk and suck at the same time. You didn’t bother to stop him when he said too many letters or correct him when all of them were wrong. You just let his breath wash over you, his tongue flicking against your clit with each new letter, eliciting longer moans and sighs from you. “Fuck Gwil,” you panted, “keep going,” “Keep going,” he repeated, his voice muffled as he dragged his tongue all the way down your slit and then back up again, making you whine. You jolted when he reached your clit again and pressed against his head, keeping him close to you, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak your nipples and knead your breasts. Occasionally you’d give him an instruction – “faster please,” or “do that again,” or “fuck Gwil, right there,” – and he’d repeat the words back to you, softened and often a little slurred together or mispronounced, before doing as he was asked, drawing you closer to release. He was pleased whenever another groan or mewl slipped from your lips, responding to them with sounds of his own as if he were savouring a particularly delicious meal. It seemed he’d taken what you’d said about making you happy to heart, though some of his whines might have had more to do with his cock, hard again and straining to be touched as his attention remained focused on you. “I’m c-lose ba-by,” you grunted as Gwilym pressed his mouth to your lower lips, as if to give you a soft chaste kiss, only to begin shaking his head side to side, rubbing his face against your cunt. “loase,” he muttered to himself, trailing his tongue back up to your clit, making you grind your hips up into him. It was impossible to keep your mouth shut in the face of such a feeling, wantonly moaning as you felt your orgasm bubbling to the surface. Gwilym hummed against you in response to a particularly loud moan which managed to be your undoing, your knees trying to clamp shut around his head as he continued to suck at your clit.

When you calmed enough to let go of his hair and loosen your thighs from around his ears, Gwilym looked up at you. His face was shiny and wet but he seemed to have regained some of his usual awareness. His eyes weren’t quite as vacant and his smile less dopey than it had been. “Feel good?” he asked, sounding almost normal except for a slight lightness in his tone. “Very good baby,” you leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips, tasting yourself as he opened his mouth and accepted your tongue. Slowly you dropped your hand between you, finding his cock again, not quite done with your brainless toy. He grunted against your lips and bucked into your hand as you stopped his return to sense. “Isn’t this fun?” you said softly as you pulled back, holding Gwil by the chin to stop him from trying to follow. “Yeah, fun,” a smile slowly tugging at his lips, “what is?” “Not needing to think, baby,” “Oh! Yes,” he laughed. “You’re too pretty to have a brain anyway, aren’t you? Much better off letting it leak out of your head,” “Mmhmm, much,” “And do you know what good, dumb boys get?” “No?” “They get fucked. Would you like that?” “Yes yes yes,” “Alright, lie back for me,” you chuckled, giving his cock a final stroke. Gwilym settled on the carpet on his back, grinning as you straddled his lap. Silently he held out his hand, all but two of his fingers folded against his palm. “No, I don’t need your fingers sweetie,” you said, giving the tips of his two fingers a light kiss, “as dextrous as they are and as much as I enjoy them, I think I’m okay skipping straight to your cock,” He nodded, letting you place his hand down on the floor again. You watched his face as you slowly sank down onto him, once again the picture of cunt drunk bliss with glazed eyes and his lip between his teeth. He smiled as you leaned down to kiss him, rolling your hips against his slowly. As you tongues entwined again, Gwilym framed your waist with his hands, slowly dragging them up your sides and onto your chest. He cupped each of your breasts in one of his palms, squeezing softly as you rocked forward and back. “Better than Byron isn’t this?” you asked, pushing yourself up a bit, but not so far you couldn’t kiss him again. “Wha’s Byron?” You laughed, “Y’know I think this might be the dumbest I’ve seen you. Can’t believe all it took was a rigged spelling test. He obviously didn’t understand, staring blankly back at you.

What he did understand was that you were moving further away from him and he whined as you pushed yourself to sit higher again, bracing your hands on his chest as you used your knees to raise and lower yourself. It still wasn’t enough though so you shifted again before too long, placing a hand behind you to grab Gwil’s leg. You leant back on it changing the angle of Gwilym’s cock, and felt his hands drop from your chest, no longer able to reach as easily. They came to rest on your leg, his fingertips digging into your skin as you rode him, keening as you felt the start of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Fuck Gwil, fill me so well, feels so good,” “My dex-ik-tus cock?” You couldn’t help but laugh, taken by surprise at his misunderstanding and mispronunciation of dextrous, but you nodded in agreement too, repeating your sentiments about how good it felt. “Wanna make me feel even better?” “How?” You sat forward again and reached for his hand, pulling it to your clit. Gwilym took the hint, messily rubbing as you bounced on his cock, but his whines and moans only grew as you rode him. “You’re close?” “Mmhmm,” You were on the verge of asking if he could hold it when he came with a groan, pulsing inside you. But you didn’t stop. “I’m close too, baby, so I’m gonna keep fucking you, okay?” He nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Good boy.” You panted, grabbing his wrist to hold his hand at your clit and adjusting your rhythm. Each time you sank back down onto him you did it harder, slamming his cock into you as deep as you could manage, groaning with each one. Your orgasm was frustratingly close but Gwilym was becoming steadily more sensitive as his subsided, wincing more with each of your thrusts. The winces turned to whimpers which turned to whines as you whispered that you were so close. “Almost baby, almost,” “Please. Hur’s,” “Nearly, just. One. More,” you threw your head back with a moan as you finally found your release, Gwil whining when you pulsed around him, a fresh tear running from the corner of his eye onto the carpet as he squirmed under you.

“Sorry, baby,” you said softly as you carefully dismounted him. He hummed as you kissed him again, leaving an extra kiss against the tip of his nose. “Did so well, such a good boy for me,” “Yeah?” “Mmhmm, so good,” He gave you a slightly watery smile and let you pull him into a cuddle, sighing contentedly when you brushed your fingers through his hair. You stayed like that for a while, knowing that later you’d regret lying on the floor for so long but unable to find the energy to move or the willpower to tell Gwilym you had to let him go. He gradually lost the fucked out expression, becoming more aware of his surroundings and more capable of clear speech. “How are you feeling?” you asked when you realised he’d blinked away the last of his sex drunk vacancy. “Better than before. Little tired but much more relaxed and very satisfied. And, before you ask, yes that’s satisfied and yes I can spell it if you want,” “I believe you.”

#my writing #my fics #smut fic #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee imagine #this has been half written in my drafts for much too long now #but im very happy to be able to finally post it!#just got one more thing to write for this advent countdown #which i'll try and knock off after i get back from church #so that its ready to go in the morning #anyway #hope ya'll like this #i might kind of love writing pretty dumb boys #blurb advent 2020

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neongreengummiebears · 3 years

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The Problem With Spinning Out and Zero Chill

Okay so spoilers. All the spoilers. Go into this at your own risk because every possible spoiler for both shows. Also: I will be speaking about these two shows with the assumption that readers have seen both and as such, will not need a summary of either. Okay, still here? Cool.

I have no big hot take, just some observations that I would like to put out into the universe in regards to Netflix’s two most recent ice skating shows. Because I have a lot of thoughts, and also one big question for anyone who can maybe help me?

For starters, Spinning Out and Zero Chill are both Netflix originals that premiered around approximately the same time, both of which feature figure skating as a backdrop for a lot of interpersonal drama surrounding the characters. It’s wonderful, because while I’m not very invested in sports I adore figure skating- It’s beautiful and fun to watch even if you don’t know a lot of the technical aspects or the names of the moves. However, for centering around the same sport the two shows are very different. Also, Spinning Out has already been confirmed to have been cancelled after the first season, while the future of Zero Chill is still up in the air.

In regards to personal preference, I liked Spinning Out a lot more than Zero Chill. It had a love story for me to invest myself in, as well as some messy, dramatic family dynamics, and overall the show was a lot more mature. I suspect that this may have actually been to the show’s detriment but that’s for later. In contrast, I found Zero Chill to be fluffy to the point of an ABC Family special.

Do you remember those? Shows like Switched at Birth or Secret Life of the American Teenager, that tried to tackle big mature topics while keeping things family friendly? Do you remember how the writing was usually pretty sub par and the drama all seemed super contrived because there was only so much they could actually do within their given boundaries, so they made a much bigger deal out of small issues than they deserved? Yeah. Zero Chill felt like that. For example, the “hazing” from the hockey team was to...put balloons in his locker? And that was a...major diss? Worth getting super pissed? Idk. It’s just that, without the confines of being family-friendly day time programing, I have come to expect more from Netflix original programming.

Alternatively, Spinning Out may have veered too far into the dark and gritty spectrum. If I had to guess where it failed, I would say that it introduced A LOT of drama, all within the first season and at times felt, overwrought. I think Spinning Out could have done with slowing down and taking a breath. Draw things out. Have the mother slowly escalate her abuse, stop and start with her medication, stretch out the love triangle between Kat, Justin, and Marcus. When I first started watching I thought that maybe Marcus would be Kat’s Luke Danes. Like throughout the show she dates other people, but eventually she realizes that she loves him and they end up together but...nope. The show established pretty early on that we were not going to have an epic, interracial friends to lovers romance. And I loved the enemies to lovers romance we got between her a Justin (Though I really think it should have taken longer. I liked that they hooked up before and that he was kinda low key pining but stretch it out. Sloooooooow buuuuuuuurn. Make it goooood. I want to feel the pining.) but it did feel like the cop out answer. And then they immediately introduce a black female character because apparently in the year 2021 we still have shows with exactly 2 black characters that are there to date each other. Like fuck, even South Park has made fun of that trope, it’s time to move past it.

Secondly I think that it’s super out of character for Kat to ever go off her medicine, even if it is to help her skating. It’s the same way I felt when they introduced Ian’s mental Illness in Shameless. Like, maybe it’s a thing that people do and if you’ve known people that act this was in these scenarios than sure, maybe I’m wrong. But it just feels like they go to so much effort to show the effect that their parent’s mental illness has on them and their life when left untreated, they establish the characters as grown up too quickly, forced to mature due to their parent’s poor choices, and then just decide to have them follow in their mother’s footsteps when the plot demands more drama. I hated that as a choice for Ian and I hated it for Kat. Partly because I feel like it’s very out of character and cop-out writing, and also because I feel like if they had to do it at all it should have been later on in the series.

One advantage that Zero Chill had for me over Spinning Out is that at least the characters were consistent. In this case I’m speaking mostly about Kayla, but also some of the others. Sure, I found Kayla’s impulsivity annoying instead of charming like I feel was the intent, but I liked her friendship with Skye arguably more than Kat’s friendship with Jenn. Mostly because Skye was pretty chill throughout the entirely of the show while Jenn would go from hot to cold and back. Do I think it’s stupid that Kayla and Skyle’s big storyline was “I want to skate with my BFF but regulations don’t allow it?” Yes. You’ve already established that Kayla doesnt care about competitions. The only time she ever did was because she wanted to skate with her OTHER BFF. So like....just skate now? You have Skye’s mom’s approval at this point, it doesn’t have to go anywhere. But at least the two seemed to genuinely be friends. Kat and Jenn started off with potential but then turned fairly toxic. Kat was never that supportive of Jenn, always wrapped up in her own stuff and Jenn just got crazy at the end there. I understand her being upset about Justin but then she learns that Kat is bipolar, you think theyre cool, and then she immediately throws that back in Kat’s face at the first inconvenient moment.

Can I just say though, how much more interested I was when I thought the secret figure skater was someone on Mac’s hockey team? I was trying to guess which boy it secretly was and I thought that there would be a subplot about her trying to convince him to figure skate with her, but he would feel pressured by his parents to play hockey instead. And that would work as a foil to Ava, who wanted to play hockey but was instead forced to figure skate. And there would be an eventual romance because what can I say, I’m here for the romance. But no...it was Skye and then there was just that subplot about Mac wanting to date his sister’s only friend. And like, when I was trying to guess who it was I thought it might be Bear and that would be her romantic interest but....no. Bear just, also likes Skye.

Also, is it some unwritten rule that for every white girl figure skater with brown hair, there must be an Asian best friend? This isnt a complaint, just an observation.

And clearly I don’t ONLY have complaints. I thought that both shows ahd a promising premise, and I loved the relationship on Spinning Out. When Zero Chill actually bothered with real issues instead of contrived nothing issues, I think it did it pretty well. I liked the friendships and family dynamic better in Zero Chill, but wished that it would have been a little more mature like Spinning Out. I liked that the characters in Spinning Out were mostly adults and that it had a more adult tone, but I wish that they had dialed the melodrama back just a bit. What I really want, I supposed, is a combination of the two shows which leads nicely into my question for you all:

I remember browsing Netflix months ago and seeing a figure skating show advertised, however it wasn’t either of these shows. It feels like these two shows were once one, and then got split up into two because I am completely unable to find the show I originally saw a commercial for.

In that original ad there was a brother and sister, one who played hockey and one who figure skated. But the hockey brother was jealous of the sister because he felt like their parents prioritized her figure skating. So one day, before a big performance of hers, he met her right before the performance and yelled at her about how unfair everything was and it shook her up and when she went out on the ice she wasn’t focused. She slipped and fell, split her head open on the ice, and her confidence was shaken.

But like...that wasn’t either of these shows so what the hell was it??? Were they once one? Was there some other show that hasn’t been released yet? Did I see it in a dream????

#netflix #netflix original series #zero chill #spinning out #zero chill spoilers #spinning out spoilers

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

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The Battle of Evermore

A Bucky Barnes fanfic

Summary: Set during the events of Captain America: Civil War. Bucky and the reader's worst nightmare has come true: they're captured, and there's nothing even Steve Rogers can do... or is there?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! reader

(reader sees shards of the future, can understand every language, and processes information quickly)

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff, self-loathing, Civil War spoilers, language

Author's note: The female character's name is never given so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I've written so much about her and Bucky that I've named her Violet. Still working on a last name. If you have any suggestions, comment below.

*************************************************

It’s not exactly unexpected, them having to fight their way out. Steve always hopes for the best, but prepares for the worst, especially when it involves The Winter Soldier, or as he knows him, Bucky Barnes. But still, the last thing he’s expecting when his best friend crashes through the door of an apartment several storeys below is to barely catch (and if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing, it’s guaranteed he would’ve missed it altogether) a woman hiss,

“Buck, what the hell-”

“Get out of here. Now.”

Again, he’s known the guy for years, had him bust up enough back-alley fights in their day, so he knows Bucky tends to have a flare for the dramatic when it comes to any sort of altercation, but it still seems a little overboard, the moves he’s pulling out to kick these hostile’s sorry tails. That is, until he’s out of the building and sees a hooded figure, small enough that his first guess would be female, waiting in a dark corner. That’s when it clicks: a diversion. But how did she manage- She takes off running, cutting his internal questioning short, and when her sweatshirt rides up, he sees a harness around her waist, carabiner still attached, and rope burns on her hands. That answers that.

All thoughts of whoever the strange woman was are pushed aside in the pursuit that follows. In fact, Steve’s almost forgotten about her until they’re being loaded into armored cars like criminals (which, he supposes, they are now), and as they’re leading Bucky away, he freezes on the spot, not budging for a full ten seconds despite his guards doing their best to get him moving again. Steve follows his line of sight to yet another car window, and then he realizes why Bucky suddenly looked so defeated. They got her too.

On the ride back to base, Bucky’s separated from the rest of them, but the woman is thrown in with him, Sam, and T’Challa, since apparently, Rhodey’s decided she’s not a threat. Either that, or he’s hoping being stuck with the men she was trying to escape will rattle her enough that, once they’ve landed, she’ll talk. If Steve had to venture a guess, he’d say that won’t work; if the way she keeps her eyes down and ignores anyone speaking to her wasn’t enough to indicate that she’s not playing ball, his knowledge that her escaping the building wasn’t a matter of chance (no, his bet’s on both of them having prepared for something like this in advance, how else can you account for the diversion and her rappelling down the side of the building) would do the trick. Just before they’re led into the building, he slides past her, and murmurs, “Steve Rogers. Don’t answer their questions. I’ll find you later.” It’s brief, but her eyes flick up to study him, then back down again, and he takes that as acknowledgment.

It’s a lot of hassle, a lot of questions, and a lot of paperwork. He’s half-way expecting to be put in a cell, but after a good two hours, he’s remanded to a room to wait. About an hour later, Sam is escorted in as well. After the routine questions (are you okay, what did you say to them, what did they say to you), Sam finally lands on the immediate issue at hand.

“Cap, who the hell’s the girl?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

That’s not entirely true. He’s had a good amount of time to think it over, and he’s narrowed the possibilities down. The first thing he considered was, as unlikely as it seems at first blush, the girl is Bucky’s daughter. Who knows if they’ve sent out the Winter Soldier for things other than assassinations. He could’ve been asked to extract information in ways that don’t include the use of excessive force. Steve almost immediately rules that one out. She doesn’t look enough like him for that possibility. Age wouldn’t necessarily be a factor considering Bucky’s been on and off ice for the past seventy years. Still, the dynamic felt… off, somehow. His bet’s on not related at all.

His second thought is a partner. Someone else who’s escaped Hydra and is now hiding out. Well, considering that she got caught (and if the rope burns are anything to judge from, she’s no expert at quick escapes), that seems unlikely as well. They get along, obviously, and she has to be important, or else he wouldn’t have risked so much to give her time to get away, so possibly a friend. Still, that level of devastation upon seeing her captured? That seems a little more intense than an average acquaintanceship.

That leaves only one possibility; a romantic entanglement. A part of Steve is happy for Bucky. He’s had a whole lot of miserable in his life so far. He deserves to find some joy. Another part of him is rolling it’s eyes at the fact that, even in hiding when he really should be keeping to himself, his best friend managed to find himself in the company of a pretty girl. The biggest part, however, is scared. If this is serious (and all things considered, it’d be foolish to think otherwise), this girl is yet another liability, another complication in vindicating Bucky.

As he’s discussing things with Sharon, he realizes that he can see the feed from the girl’s cell as well as Bucky’s. The volume is turned down low, but if he concentrates, he can hear her.

“Please, if anyone is listening, you have to stop that doctor. He’s not who he says he is!” Steve brushes it off as hysterics. That is, until it dawns on him that she’d have no way of knowing about the doctor interviewing Bucky.

“God! You people! I’ve been hiding from this fucking government since I was eighteen years old! Now that you’ve got me behind bars, the least you could do is listen! I’m telling you, he’s not who he says he is! Don’t let him in the room with Barnes! It’s a mistake! People are going to die!” That makes him wonder…

“Sharon, do you have a file on the girl?”

She shakes her head.

“Not that I know of, but I also haven’t looked. She’s just some random Romanian woman, right?” That’s what he thought, but now he’s not so sure. Her accent… she sounds American. “Couldn’t even get her name out of her. My guess would be that she’s insane. All she’d tell us is that we’re making a big mistake and people are going to die because of it.”

He’s about to say something more, but that’s when the lights are cut.

The battle that follows leaves little time to think of anything other than capturing Bucky before the other side does (oh, and trying to survive themselves), but in the brief lull after they come out of the river, he manages to tell Sam,

“Spring the girl.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it. I have a hunch.” One that admittedly doesn’t make much sense, but then again, that seems to be the way his life works.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“It was a mistake. I told them so.” Sam’s inclined to believe the same as Sharon when he approaches the high-security cell with a pacing woman inside. “A fucking mistake. And now there’s a bunch of dead people topside and Barnes is who knows where, probably either with a couple bullet holes in him or else a couple bullet holes in the other guys.” She has to be crazy. She’s talking to herself. But how does she know- “I see the damn future, for fuck’s sake!” Well, that explains that.

It seems like she’s worn herself out because, her back against the wall, she slides down slowly to the floor as if her legs have given out from under her.

“I see the future, and I still couldn’t save him.” Great. He’s been sent to extract a homicidal maniac’s fortune-telling girlfriend. Awesome.

“Yeah, well-” She startles, cracking her head on the glass wall. “-unless you want a really bad headache, I’d get against the back wall right now if I were you, because I’m about to bust you out of here.”

“Who are you?” If he blasts the control panel… as a last resort, he could quite literally blow out the wall.

“A friend of Steve Rogers.” Sent to collect her crazy ass. The least she could do is stop glaring at him. “And I meant what I said about that headache. Get back and cover your ears.”

Finally, she moves, but not before shooting back,

“If you’re lying, just be aware that I won’t hesitate to kick you in the family jewels so hard, you’ll sing soprano.” Well, that’s comforting.

For a high-security facility, the locks go down fairly easily. Still, he hesitates before opening the door. “I’ll let you out so long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself and your crazy away from me, deal?”

She snorts.

“Can’t promise anything about the crazy because it comes and goes, but I won’t touch you. Good enough?” Can he really say no?

“Yeah. Whatever.” He allows the door to open, jumping out of the way just in case.

Now that she’s out of her cage, she looks considerably less nuts. Still, he’s not taking any chances.

“Rogers told me to spring you while he rounded up your boyfriend. He’s gone psycho, by the way.” If he was expecting a reaction, he’s disappointed. She just sighs.

“I was afraid of that. They turned a good man into a weapon.” Alright, ignoring the fact that he wouldn’t exactly call Barnes a good man…

“What’s your name?” She just raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours.” Sam doesn’t have time for this.

“Well, whatever your name is, stick close. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to shut up, you shut up. Got it?” Not waiting for an answer, he starts making his way out of the building.

He’s halfway expecting her to make a break for it the second his back is turned but, five sharp turns and a handful of sudden stops later, she’s still right behind him. Well, at the very least, her crazy hasn’t affected her ability to follow directions.

Trouble finally finds them when they attempt to sneak out the proverbial back door. Sam doesn’t even have a chance to shout at her to hide or run between incapacitating various guards, and by the time he remembers he’s supposed to be looking out for Barnes’ girlfriend, there’s an unconscious man laying by her side and she’s got the business end of a gun turned on another, who’s kneeling in front of her with his hands up.

“Don’t shoot him!” As he says it, her foot makes contact with the man’s chin, and he drops.

“Wasn’t gonna.”

She still hasn’t let go of the weapon. Alright, he needs to defuse this situation as fast as possible (oh, and without getting himself killed).

“You wanna put the gun down, What’s-your-face?”

“Nope. I’m hanging onto it.” As she says it, she checks the bullets. “Don’t worry. I know how to use it.” How is that supposed to keep him from worrying?

“Yeah well, keep it pointed away from me.” Is she rolling her eyes? Great. He’s dealing with an overgrown teenager.

“Safety’s on anyway.” He’s starting to think that between the knocked out cold super soldier and the awake and definitely dangerous crazy lady, he’s wishing he had Steve’s job.

“Come on.”

He only manages to run a few more steps before she asks,

“Where are we going?”

He’s not entirely sure, but he goes with what he’s almost certain will bring her along.

“To Barnes.” Sure enough, she doesn’t say anything else.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Once she arrives at… wherever the hell they are… she’s instructed to wait where she is and keep her mouth shut. Normally she’d inform whoever’s telling her that to stick it directly up their ass, but Bucky warned her time and again about what he could inadvertently do to her if he was activated, and considering Steve Rogers has the same capabilities, she’s not going to chance it. That, and Mr. “Keep your crazy away from me” seems a little testy, even if she does still have her gun (the fact that they haven’t taken it from her says more than enough about how secure they both feel in their ability to overpower her). No, she’ll bide her time. For now, it’s enough that she knows where Barnes is and that he’s mostly okay, if having a long snooze.

Eventually he does come around, and the conversation that follows both chills her to the bone and breaks her heart. He’s matter-of-fact about everything, calmly explaining to Steve and Sam (she finally overhears his name) what they’re up against, what those terrible people have made of him and so many others, but the guilt he feels is clear, at least to her. Alright, that’s it. She’s not going to sit still and be quiet any longer. She’ll just have to be smart about it.

Once Sam steps out to call whoever it is he knows that can help him, she starts to creep forward, slowly, deliberately, careful to avoid making noise. She’s almost there, about to leave the refuge of hiding behind a piece of broken down heavy machinery, when she hears something that makes her stop short.

“Who’s the girl, Buck?” This ought to be interesting. It was necessary to have a conversation about what they would do if one or the other of them was captured at any point in time, have a plan in place, but since this is Steve Rogers, she has no idea what the answer will be.

“Call her a personal attachment.” It’s a good answer. Vague, not giving too much away.

“Yeah, I figured that much out myself. Wanna give me a little more information?”

There’s a long pause, then-

“She’s important. The same way Peggy’s important to you.” That makes no sense to her, but it must appease Steve.

“I’m glad. You deserve that.” She’s definitely missing something here. “What’s her name?” That’s when she chooses to step forward.

They both turn towards her as she gives her name. “You should also know that I only give people one opportunity to tell me what to do. You and Sam already used yours.”

Steve glances back at Bucky, who shrugs, smirking.

“Don’t look at me. I used mine up two years ago.” A wave of relief courses through her. His sense of humor is still there, at least.

Steve nods. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I still have a question, though.” She indicates that it’s okay. “Are you gonna be as much of a pain in the neck as he is?” A joke, or at least she thinks it is.

“Only if I can’t be a bigger one.” If the laugh is any indication, she was right.

“I have a question too.” This time Bucky’s the one asking as Steve sets about freeing his arm. “Doll, where’d you get the gun?”

She decides to go with the truth, but a lighter version of it.

“A nice guard gave it to me.”

“Oh, he gave it to you, huh?”

She nods, slowly approaching him.

“Yes. It’s amazing how accommodating people can be once you’ve elbowed them in the ribs and kneed them in the groin.”

With a groan of metal, he’s free. As Steve helps him to his feet, he asks,

“What exactly did you teach her?”

“A few things. The rest she’d learned before me.” Yeah, well, you don’t spend your life running and hiding without learning how to defend yourself. Although, from the look of things, the company she’s fallen into could crush her without breaking a sweat.

After exchanging a few more words, Steve excuses himself, leaving her alone with the man she’s been so worried about. The atmosphere immediately changes, all attempts on both of their parts to seem unaffected, strong, gone to the wayside as he opens his arms and she folds herself into them.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, not lifting it from where it’s buried in his chest.

“No. I was locked up the whole time. Sam sprang me loose.” She can feel some of the tension leak out of him as he heaves a sigh of relief.

“I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. If you’d stayed-” Not waiting for him to finish his thought, she reaches up and taps the back of his head.

“Shut up. If you’d left without me, you know I’d just have gone to find you and gotten myself into even more trouble.”

He chuckles.

“You do have a way of doing that.”

Neither of them say much for the next few minutes, just concentrating on, in this brief moment, being together. Finally, with a sigh, Bucky separates himself from her and holds her at arm’s length.

“Look at me.”

It’s an abrupt segue, and she frowns.

“I need to make sure this is getting through that pretty and incredibly hard head of yours, because it’s important.” Swallowing down a lump in her throat, she meets his eyes. “If they activate me again, drop any weapons you have, get on your knees, and put your hands up.”

“What-”

“I don’t know much about how all of it works, but I do know that when I’m like that, I’ll ignore you if you don’t present a threat. It’s a shitty solution, but it’s the only way I can think of to half-way make sure you’re safe.” She’s about to protest (he’s with Steve now, whoever that not-a-doctor was is gone, no one’s going to activate him, and even though she knows what he can do, she refuses to be afraid of him), but it’s an old argument, and he cuts her off before she can even get started. “Promise me, Doll. Please.” He’s pleading with her, she realizes. As much as she hates it, the only thing she can do is agree.

“I will, but only if you promise to come back in one piece.” She begs her mind to memorize that smile, every single detail of it, just in case this is their last goodbye.

“It’s a deal.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

He’s drained, utterly and completely. That’s not a way Bucky is used to feeling, but after the past few days and all they’ve held (not to mention going in and out of being the Winter Soldier, never knowing who he’s hurt this time), he has to admit that he’s beat, even if it’s just to himself.

It’s all a blur: captured, activated, back to normal, battle, another battle, and now on a hellicarrier, waiting to go to a small African country he’d never heard of a week ago. If he examines each event closely, he can remember it in full, but why in the hell would he want to do that, especially after the encounter with Stark?

The one bright spot in the maze is that he knows she’s safe, holed up in what used to be a SHIELD safe house (he balked at the idea, as did she, but Steve assured them both that it was abandoned, completely safe), waiting for the all-clear to return to Romania. He’d wondered, with everyone except Steve and himself locked up who would tell her it’s safe to leave, but when Natasha helped them escape, she looked him dead in the eyes and informed him, “I’ll look after her, too.”. He still wonders how she knew where Steve chose as a location, but his best friend told him it’s best not to question how the spy gets her information.

The doors open once again, but he doesn’t look up.

“You look a little worse for wear.”

Even with the super serum, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash, turning his head towards the familiar voice.

“I thought I told you to come back in one piece.”

No, he’s not kidding himself. His senses aren’t fooling him. It’s her. She’s here.

“I did.” She chuckles as she settles into the seat next to him. “More or less.”

Completely ignoring the fact that he’s filthy, covered in at least ten different kinds of muck, she takes his hand in hers. He allows himself the comfort of having her next to him, enjoying the warmth, not just of her body but her presence, before asking,

“Doll, what are you doing here?”

“What I’m usually doing.” She stretches out her legs in front of her as far as they’ll go, then toes off her shoes. “Following you around like a lost puppy.” No, that’s definitely him. Can’t bring himself to stay away even though she’d be safer if he left and never came back. Once upon a time, he fooled himself into believing that so long as he stayed hidden, nobody said those key words, he wouldn’t hurt her. She’d be safer with him to protect her (she can defend herself, sure, but there’s far nastier things out there than just common criminals) than on her own, and besides, she wants him to stay. Now he knows the truth: it doesn’t matter that the Winter Soldier never laid a finger on her. He’s hurt her just from being who he is, sure as he left bruises in the shape of his fingerprints the first night they ever spent together doing something more than sleeping. Well, that ends now. He has to be strong, for her sake.

“I’m not going back to Romania.”

“I know.” She nods. “We’re going to Wakanda.” Here comes the hard part. He can do it. He has to.

“Not “we”. Just me.” It takes a moment, but recognition dawns on her face.

“Are you telling me to leave?”

She says it calmly, but he can tell that inside, she’s already starting to crumble. He should say yes. He’s absolutely telling her to leave. He loves her, god, does he ever, and you don’t hurt the people you love. You protect them, even if that means keeping them away from you. But, even as he prepares to tell her that, he knows the truth.

“Would it do any good if I did?”

“If it was because you truly didn’t want me around, then yes. If it was some self-sacrificing bullshit, then no.”

And there’s the crux of it. He can never tell her to go and truly mean it, just as he could never leave her side without her telling him she wants him gone. He’s simply not that strong, not that noble. Still, he has to try.

“You saw what I did.”

“Yeah, I did.” He feels her sag against his shoulder. “And my opinion hasn’t changed. I’m not afraid of you, Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier? Okay, he’s a scary guy, and I’ll be cautious around him, but I trust you.” Her fingers tighten around his. “I love you. That stays the same.”

He swallows hard, trying to get control of himself. There will be a time to put down all his armor, show her how damn tired he is, how if he’s being honest with himself, he just wants to let her take care of him, but not while they’re having this conversation.

“I’m going on ice as soon as we reach Wakanda.”

“Figured as much. I’ll be standing by, pestering them to make sure they do a good job getting what Hydra put in your head back out again.” She tugs gently at his hair. “For now, just relax. It’s only the two of us here. You’ve had a hard couple of days, so just rest.”

He starts to protest that he’s fine, she’s the one who should be decompressing, but then her fingers start working through the hair at his scalp. “You’re safe, Buck. It’s all going to work out.”

“Did you have a vision?” The last thing he sees as he closes his eyes and lets his head fall into her lap is her smile.

“No. Some things you don’t need to see the future to know.”

#marvel #fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #steve rogers #captain america #the winter soldier #avengers #self insert

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babbushka · 4 years

Note

Heeey girl! This is such a cool theme, thank you for writing for us again! So. Ehem. If I could politely ask for some caring smut with Paterson, maybe you dress up as a sexy holiday character or trip down to nothing under a robe and teasingly tell him to warm you up? Thank you and I love you babygirl, take it easy today and don’t get overwhelmed. ❤️

Anonymous said: I don’t know if you’ll get to this one, but you’re description inspired me. Could I, if I may, request Paul shyly giving you a new piece of lingerie. I feel like our sweet boy would be all red in the face and stuttering. Some smut if you’re up for it. Love you girl, thank you for another sinday!

(2.4k nsfw, strip tease, lap dance, lingerie, dirty talk, PIV sex, fingering, 3some MMF, d/s dynamic with subby sevier twins!)

It takes exactly three seconds, for them to hear you opening the front door and rushing over to help you with you coat and your bags. They’ve been home for some time, Paul and Paterson, you were the last to get home after a long day of work, and though you’re tired, seeing their handsome faces eases the tension from your shoulders straight away.

It doesn’t hurt, that they’re holding out a very beautifully wrapped box, deep navy blue wrapping paper with a silver bow on top, something that must’ve been done at the department store wherever they picked up whatever this is. You have a sneaking suspicion you know exactly what it is, but the fun is in the surprise, so you only lean in to kiss each of them with a big smile.

“Chag sameach.” Paterson smiles at you, the tips of his ears red. Paul chews on his lip and offers you the box, puts it into your hands as they usher you further into the room and close the front door behind you.

The sun hasn’t gone down yet, you haven’t lit the candles or had dinner yet, but something tells you that they’ll be antsy until you open up your gift, so you sit down on the couch in the living room and untie the big silver ribbon.

“What’s this?” You ask rhetorically with a pleased gasp, holding up the silky lacy matching set.

“It’s for you.” Paul replies anyway, knowing that you know that it’s lingerie. He looks so pleased, so happy that you like it, he can barely stay still standing next to his brother, hands going clammy in his pockets.

“We’d love it if you tried it on.” Paterson nods, biting at his lip.

Looking between the two of your handsome men, you put the lingerie down for a moment and can’t help but feel warmth through your whole body at how caring they are, how loving they are.

“Which one of you picked this out?” You feel that love, and you want to give it right back to them – you want to give them everything.

“Me.” Paul pushes his glasses further up his nose from where they had begun to slip, and you set the box aside to stand up from the couch. Paul shifts in his spot in front of you and waits nervously for praise, for something, anything. “It was me. Do you like it?”

Instead of answering right away, you saunter over to him, smooth your hands across his broad shoulders and slide them up into his hair the way that makes him moan into your mouth as you kiss him deeply, passionately. You smile against his mouth as he opens his lips for you, tongue hot and firm as he licks into you, sighs in bliss, until you’re pulling away ever so slightly.

“Paul it’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I’m going to need your help getting into it though.” You smile, thinking of something that’ll hopefully be fun for everyone involved. “This has me thinking, maybe I put it on for you…and we take it off for Paterson?”

You turn to look at Paterson, who seems very enthralled by the idea, already nodding his agreement. That was easy enough, you smile to yourself. Paterson and Paul were so easy going about stuff like this, you were always happy to be reminded. No one got jealous as long as everyone was able to participate in some way, at some point, and you appreciated their willingness to wait a minute or two.

“Go into the bedroom honey, we’ll be right there.” You give Paterson the same sort of kiss, one deep and full of meaning, quiet passion in the way that courses through Pat’s veins, simmers just underneath the surface. When you break the kiss, he gives you the most handsome smile, one that he keeps giving you as he looks over his shoulder every few steps up the stairs to the bedroom.

The moment that Paterson is out of sight, Paul is on you, hands all over. You laugh a little at the attention, loving how needy he is, how clingy. His palms are warm and smooth as they shove under your blouse, caressing your stomach, your side, your back.

“You’re so beautiful, look at you.” Paul kisses at your neck, the words deep in his chest, pressing into your throat, “So beautiful.”

He gets you naked in no time, he’s had enough practice over the past couple months to do it efficiently. Within a few moments you’re standing nude in front of him, and he flushes bright red when you reach over to the couch and pick up the lingerie once again, stepping into the panties, the garter. There’s all sorts of straps on the bra, and you give Paul a sultry look when you notice he’s staring slack-jawed.

“I love this color, you picked out a good set. Fasten me up?” You shimmy your shoulders to catch his attention, and he’s pulling you flush against him, grinding his cock against your ass. It’s hard, long and thick just the way Paul’s cock always is for you, and you know you’re in for a nice fucking tonight.

“C-can I?” He asks as he fastens the little hook and eye closures that fit snugly on your back, as you pull stockings up onto your legs and clip them into place on the garters.

“No sweetheart, not yet, not until we’ve given your brother a show.” You shake your head, making him whine.

He’s understanding though, and you’re grateful for it, as he leads you up the steps. You slipped your heels back on, because you thought that completed the look, made it more put together, more seductive in a way. You know how much Paterson loves seeing you in heels, if nothing else.

Paterson’s waiting for you on the bed, just like you’d told him to, the angel. He’s sitting on the edge of it, good posture and looking relaxed. The bedroom is completely covered in flower petals and candles, music is playing, and the bed is freshly made – ready for a night of filth and debauchery.

“You boys really were busy, huh?” You grin at the romantic sight, and Paterson blushes as Paul joins him sitting just behind his brother on the bed.

“Well, it’s the first night of Hanukkah. We wanted to make it special, the first night we’re all together like this.” Paterson replies, soft and shy and eager. So eager, Paterson is.

“It would have been special no matter what we did – although, I do think that you’ve earned something sweet for being so thoughtful.” You wink at him, and Paterson doesn’t really know what to expect, not until you go over to Paul’s phone where the Bluetooth is hooked up, and you play something a little more sultry over the speakers.

You’ve only ever seen strip teases done in movies, but if there’s one thing you do know, it’s to take off everything a piece at a time, build up the anticipation. So you start with the least exciting of all your clothes, your heels.

The music plays and you flip your hair over, Paterson and Paul tracking every move. You bring one of your feet up and rest it on Paterson’s thigh, so close to his cock that you can see the rigid line of it straining through his trousers. You smile and wink at him as you pull your foot away, leaving the heel on his thigh.

“Doesn’t she look good?” Paul murmurs in Paterson’s ear as you slap your thigh and put on a show unclipping one stocking from the garter. “Isn’t she the most perfect woman that you’ve ever seen?”

“Yeah, she is, you are, (Y/N).” Paterson nods, licking his lips, watching you do the same to your other leg; your foot brushing his cock, before leaving the heel in his lap and unclipping the other stocking.

“Thank you Pat honey, you’re so sweet to me.” You bend over to caress his cheek for a moment, before straightening up and slinging a leg over Paterson’s shoulder, “Paul, take these off for me sweetheart.”

Paul carefully tugs one stocking all the way off your leg, until your bare inner thigh is grazing Paterson’s cheek. You smile as he can’t resist turning towards it, mouthing at your skin ever so gently. He doesn’t quite kiss you, doesn’t bite or suck, simply presses his lips against the crease where your hips bend and move and breathes in, moaning and whining in the back of his throat.

“P-please, (Y/N), baby can I – ” Paterson starts, but you shush him gently, pulling your leg away and peeling the other stocking off yourself. He fidgets on the bed, and you know one way to get him to sit still.

“Have some patience honey, I promise you’ll get whatever you want if you can just be a little patient.” You reassure him.

Once your stockings are off, you shimmy out of the garter, unclipping it from around your waist and letting it fall to the floor. All that you’re left in, are your panties and your bra. The bra is much more complicated than the panties are – you could honestly leave them on because they’re crotchless. But the bra’s got to come off, because you know your men well, and they’ve got a fixation on your tits if you’ve ever seen one.

You climb into Paterson’s lap, and he sucks in a deep breath, because you’re now straddling his thighs, strong and thick that they are. Paul’s lying back on the bed, watching and waiting patiently. He knows how to wait his turn, knows how to enjoy the show for himself.

“Your cock’s so hard, you like seeing me like this? You like watching me?” You ask Paterson, loving the way he stammers and flushes for you as you reach behind yourself and work on the clasps of the bra. There’s a few so it’ll take a while, all the straps that wrap around your breasts and shoulders so prettily.

“Yes – fuck, yes you are, I do, you are and I do, oh let me touch you please, please, you smell so nice.” Paterson whines, his eyes so big and brown, his lips so plump and red. You lean down to kiss him, grinding in his lap, moving your hips in little circles that catch and brush up against his aching hard cock.

“Where do you want to touch me?” You whisper, letting the bra slip and slide down your arms, letting your breasts rest naturally, Paterson’s gaze zeroring in on them. You tip his chin back up to meet your gaze, and smile. “Tell me.”

“I…Let me rub your clit and kiss at your tits? Please, please (Y/N), oh I want you.” Paterson’s too darling to deny, so you don’t, not with the way he looks at you like you’re his whole world. And you are, the same way that he’s yours, him and his brother.

“All yours – lie back for me.” You card your fingers through his hair and laugh a little as he immediately does what he’s told like a, “Good boy. Paul? Wanna fuck me?”

Paul practically jumps at the chance, nods and gets up off the bed so he can come around to stand behind you. He gently pushes you down so you’re lying on top of Paterson, your arms bracing yourself above him, your legs spread to continue to straddle Paterson’s hips.

Paterson’s hands go to work immediately, he licks at his thumb enough to get it wet, and pushes it through the folds of your pussy to seek out your clit, while his other hand cups one of your breasts. He pulls you down enough that he can suck a nipple into his mouth, and you both moan at the same time from the sensations of it all.

“Oh!” You gasp happily, eyes closing.

“Yes – thank you.” Paterson mumbles against your breasts, his thumb circling on your clit in a way that’s got your pussy already clenching, wanting to be filled.

Paul fishes his leaking cock out of his trousers and thrusts into you slowly from behind, working you open on his dick, working your pussy to stretch and relax for him. It’s nearly too much, the way he’s so tender with you like this, the way his hands hold your hips nice and steady, plucking at the elastic of the panties he picked out for you.

“Your cunt’s so hot, I – oh fuck – I could live here.” Paul sighs happily, pulling out nearly all the way just to thrust himself back in, pushing moans out of your throat high high high into the air, as he does it again and again. “(Y/N), you’re so tight.”

Paterson bites and sucks at your nipples while he slowly, lazily swirls at your clit, and you drool onto the sheets because you can’t keep your mouth closed. Paul notices, and he grabs at your chin delicately, turns you to look over your shoulder so he can make out with you, wet and sloppy.

“Mmm – oh, oh – ah! Yes, you’re both so good.” You moan and sigh and gasp for them, rocking back onto Paul’s cock that splits you in half, while Paterson’s fingers rub faster faster faster, until your hips are trying to get friction from both, your blood singing, your body a choir of pleasure as all your nerve endings throb with sparkling heat.

“I’m – I’m – (Y/N) please?” Paterson whines, begs, the poor thing, and Pauls’ strong arms wrap around you securely, safely, so you can use one of your hands to pull out Paterson’s cock and jerk him off.

He comes in your hand, splatters all across your stomach from the angle of it. He doesn’t stop moving kissing biting sucking fingering you though, no, neither of them stop until you’re a melting dripping mess of come on their cocks on their hands.

You lose track of which hands belong to whom, as they hold you open and fuck you slow and sweet, fuck you until you’re shouting their names, fuck you until the sun goes down. Paul comes in you when you gush on his cock a second time, he watches as it oozes out and sticks to the lacy design of the panties.

“Happy Hanukkah.” You say, when you’ve collapsed down in between a sandwich of these brothers, their breath hot and irregular as they gulp down air right in your ear.

The three of you break out into blissful giggles, and you wonder how you’re supposed to go downstairs and light the candles for the coming week, if every night is going to be so wonderful like this.

#paterson x reader #paul sevier reader #paterson x reader x paul sevier #paterson smut #paterson imagine #midnight special #sevier twins au #paul sevier smut #adam driver character #this was long lol #Anonymous #cowboy answers

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binickandros · 3 years

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(same anon from the start of this discussion) i love how in depth you got with the answer!! and i 100% agree with you now. of course i would never want 2020!nick and 2020!tom to be exactly like book!nick and book!tom. king's representation of disabilities was already outdated at the time. i just think they should've had the same importance to the plot as they do originally, and tbf, imo they have one of the best dynamics in fiction, which could be deeply explored. i do give the writers some (very very little) credit for kinda making it less ableist (like having nick sign), but they did so wrong from the start (hiring a hearing actor) that everything kinda went downhill from there. and also, nick and tom are not the only inappropriately represented dynamic, like where the hell did stu/fran come from?? how about some more stu&glen?? they made frannie know ASL, wouldn't it make her dynamic with nick more interesting?? idk i'm not very coherent right now. i just loved your answer and had to keep the conversation going lol (and im tired of talking about harold 😔)

Right, I mean it’s an adaptation, so making changes (especially updates) on a 42-year-old work is perfectly fine. Even accepted. Esp with Nick bc p much everything happens inside his head. We’ve gotta make some changes so we know what’s going on with him, what he’s thinking, etc. But that’s the challenge of any book-to-screen adaptation, and if you aren’t prepared to tackle that, you shouldn’t do it! Anyway once again I have a lot to say...

I liked that at least someone knew ASL, but it was so obvious that 1) Henry Zaga can hear and 2) they had no one on set who was deaf or HOH. The scene where the committee is deciding to send spies is the worst example. First of all, Glen, who’s leading the discussion, is BEHIND Nick. So Nick doesn’t catch a single word of what he’s saying. Secondly, at one point Nick got up and walked away, with his back to the room. So he missed that entire exchange. If I remember correctly, Larry was sort of behind Nick too. Or maybe in front of him w his back to him? Either way, seated so that Nick couldn’t read his lips. I kept pausing to bitch about it to my mom bc it was so gd annoying.

Obvs Rob Lowe is a hearing actor as well, but he made an effort to like turn ppl’s faces toward him or crane his neck to try to see their faces. He actively tried to follow conversations the way a deaf lipreader might. Some of that could be Henry Zaga’s choices, but a director’s job is to direct, and a writer’s job is to include (at least some) stage direction.

I know that Frannie wasn’t meant to be fluent in ASL, but the fact that she translated what she was saying, but not what anyone else was saying, bugged tf outta me. Also just how Henry Zaga and Odessa Young signed! ASL (all forms of sign language, but that’s the one we’re talking about here) is a 3D language: it’s not just the signs themselves, but also facial expressions and body language. That’s why you can’t directly translate ASL into written English (along w syntax, but that’s outside the scope of this convo), but instead have to “interpret” what’s being signed into written language.

Like I’m very glad they chose to have Nick signing, but just like everything else w him, they didn’t put much effort into it. Part of that could be put on the actor (I have no idea what prep work he did for the role), but like...just based on everything we see onscreen, I seriously doubt he was encouraged to do more than just “learn the signs for these words.”

When they first announced the casting for Fran I was concerned just bc of how much younger than James Marsden Odessa Young is. I think they meant Stu to be a bit younger than James, like maybe late 30s, but...idk she looked like his daughter to me. They didn’t have any romantic chemistry, and the fact that we got no backstory as to how they fell for each other just made that worse. I’m not criticizing Odessa Young here; the poor thing was given nothing to do besides sit around looking wan and pregnant; but like I mentioned in another ask, what do these 2 ppl have in common?! Who knows, bc we literally know nothing about either of them, except that Frannie’s pregnant and Stu’s a widower.

And, yeah, I would’ve loved more Stu and Glen. I’m iffy on how they characterized Glen in some ways. Like when I heard the casting for that I was a hard NO, partially bc Greg Kinnear isn’t old enough, but then they changed the character so that the casting choice worked...I’m just not sure if the character changes worked for me, personally. I did like his death scene better in this one, though. And that he actually got through to Lloyd.

Like we all keep bitching about Nick, bc that was the worst example, but ALL of the “good” characters were seriously under-served here. Where were the prophetic dreams? Where were the groups coming together out on the road? Where were any scenes of them bonding or getting to know each other in Boulder?

I was literally just telling a friend (in the middle of typing this answer) that I think sometimes when people adapt horror (I’m looking at YOU, Kubrik, bc yes The Shining is a gr8 movie, but it’s a dreadful adaptation) they think “it’s horror it’s gotta be scary” and forget that a lot of what makes the best horror is characters. Genre fiction is criticized for being too plot-driven, as opposed to literary fiction being character-driven, and while DUH obviously the plot is hugely important in a novel like The Stand, would you actually give that much of a fuck what happens if you didn’t care about the people involved?

Nick’s death carried so little weight bc they’d diminished the character to a shadow of himself, so it was just like “oh that cute boy with the eye patch died, how sad.” Unlike when I saw the 94 miniseries (before I read the book), and I was screaming at my TV. For all that I can bitch about Game of Thrones (and I can. a lot.), D&D at least knew in the first few seasons to make Ned a character you cared about, make Robb a character you cared about, so that their deaths were as hugely shocking and tragic as in the books.

Am I saying The Stand failed worse than Game of Thrones?! Idk. That’s...saying a lot...I’ll think about it and get back to you. Game of Thrones failed so much more often, and for so many more years...

#the stand #nick andros #frannie goldsmith #stu redman #glen bateman #anonymous #asked and answered #meg rambles

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raayllum · 4 years

Note

What's your opinion on Raydia? Do you think they have a slim chance or just friendship (sister version of a bromance?) Its just interesting to see people saying that it has potential? Not slamming the ship, I am just interested to see other's views on the ship.

Slim chance? At becoming canon? Yeah, I think that ship sailed a long time ago, if it arguably wasn’t dead on arrival. And I say that as someone who considered the ship pre-s1! I was already leaning a bit more towards Rayllum just because I knew they would have more screentime (travelling) together, but I thought Raydia might be cute too! They were around the same age and had complimentary character designs.

Then S1 happened.

And I would just like to preface that this is 1) just my opinion, 2) what I don’t like about the ship could be exactly what someone else likes about, and that’s okay, and 3) shipping is built on appreciating a dynamic, not on gender or canonicity.

With that out of the way, let’s continue:

Back when it was more popular, Rayla/Claudia seemed to be predicated on the ‘nicer, goofier’ side of Claudia and on her having character development (moving away from Viren’s viewpoint / developing a non-prejudiced view of elves) that I figured was seasons away, at best. I wasn’t a fan, because it would mean the majority of their relationship (in fanon or canon speculation) had to take place with Rayla putting up with someone who was actively struggling just to see her as a person. Not parts, as Claudia so clearly see elves in S1 (and S2-S3, but let’s just go season by season, for now).

That’s not to say a character hating elves isn’t a reason to ship them with one! Amaya, after all, thinks elves are monsters in S1, and I still adore her and Janai. But even in 1x04, it is heavily implied that if Amaya had been told the truth and the boys had explained things, she could have accepted it and it would have turned out okay. Claudia watches the truth unfold right before her eyes…

And it does nothing to change her mind.

When she shows up in S2, she’s still operating under the belief that the princes have been kidnapped. S2 is also when it becomes clear that she and Soren have very different morals. While Soren is prejudiced against elves too, he can still see a shred of personhood in Rayla, enough to not want to murder her while she’s asleep and to (cruelly) taunt her about the dragon, or see her as a fighting opponent. Claudia has absolutely zero hesitation.

Cl: What are you waiting for? She’s a Moonshadow elf. And she kidnapped the princes.

And because we know Rayla wasn’t actually asleep during this exchange, she heard all of that. I’ve written more on Claudia’s actions in S2, and her relationship with Rayla by extension, here so I’ll just copy and paste the most important point, but:

Claudia sees that Rayla is a genuine friend of Callum and even thinks there might be a romance between him and Rayla. She still doesn’t hesitate to go along with Soren’s plan of force and make another attempt on Rayla’s life, even now she knows that Rayla is Callum’s friend. She does it again in 2x07, saying, “Try not to kill her Soren, she could lead us to Callum and Ezran.”

Rayla is never anything remotely like a person to her, merely a tool to be used or an obstacle to be killed, even though Claudia knows in all of these instances that this is someone Callum genuinely cares for, and that losing Rayla would hurt him, and Claudia doesn’t care.

Even though she watched both Callum and Ezran actively choose Rayla over her, that they listened about the Egg and saw Ezran agree, that Callum chained Claudia back in the escape.

Whether Claudia has any romantic feelings for Callum is irrelevant because she, on a fundamental level, does not care enough about his feelings enough to not do something that would hurt him.

Or, in other words: Claudia feels bad about doing certain things, but she still does them.

As someone who went in with Rayla as my favourite character, and someone who’s always very sensitive when it comes to carefully watching how characters treat one another, I paid attention to her in particular. To the point where I almost didn’t ship her with Callum in the beginning of 1x05, because he yeeted the primal stone and I was prepared to square up, like, “Boy you better start treating her better” (after 1x04, although I’m far more sympathetic to his side of things now) and then he was a sweetheart for the rest of the ep and it was beautiful. Because what Callum says in 1x04?

A/G: He says, if we don’t let you go, you’ll kill them, and drink their blood. That you are a monster.

That’s what Claudia believes, and Callum never did. Like yeah, it’s not great that he thinks Rayla drinks blood, and he 100% could’ve handled it better, but his baseline reaction, is just being grossed out. Not necessarily rude.

C: Uh, no thank you. We don’t drink… that.R: What?C: Blood. We don’t drink blood. We don’t mean to be rude, but, uh—you can keep it.R: It’s moonberry juice. Is that what humans think we are? Bloodthirsty monsters?C: No no no, it’s not that—I mean I have heard stories, but I’m sure they’re just stories. Horrible, awful stories—oh look at that we’re here.

If I thought someone was offering me blood, I’d probably react in a similar manner! And Callum makes it clear that he 1) can understand why what he said was harmful and 2) clarify that he never means it.

R: I can’t believe that you’re such a jerk.C: What? What’s wrong?R: You called me a bloodthirsty monster. You have no idea how that feels.C: But I don’t actually believe any of that, I was just trying to scare her. I thought she’d back down.R: Oh that went well. They tried to kill me!C: I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to happen.

And that he never did:

C: You know you can’t sneak up on me… You’re not who I thought you were, you’re uh, one of those with the pointy—R: Oh, you don’t like my ears?C: No, no uh I mean yes— yes I do, I—I guess, I mean—I meant the pointy swords.

And:

C: You know that still doesn’t mean we can trust her.E: But I like her, Callum.C: Hey, I like her too. But the thing is, she’s…E: An elf? Who cares? It seems like everything we’ve ever known about elves is wrong.C: No, she’s not telling us everything. I can feel it.

Which is why Rayla is able to have a relationship with Ezran and Callum that doesn’t hinge upon her putting up with people who dehumanize her until they realize wow, maybe she deserved basic respect and recognition all along! And at this point in canon (post-s1 and at the very least pre-s4) with Claudia, that is the sort of relationship they would have to have. And even then, the series thus far hasn’t given Claudia and Rayla a reason to change their opinion of each other; if anything, their view of one another has just worsened.

Rayla didn’t have any personal issues with Claudia or Soren until the beginning of S2. Then Soren lies about Harrow, Rayla is pissed, and then she sees the first hand effect of how Claudia hurt Callum.

But Rayla is able to forgive and build a budding, positive bond with Soren in S3 — because he puts the effort in. He admits he was wrong, that his father is twisted, and Soren has now sacrificed and left his family and old life behind to do what is right, and to help them take a stand against Viren.

It’s not Rayla’s job to try and save someone who’s continually dehumanizes her and her culture, which is all Claudia has done up to this point. And Claudia, just falls further — with Rayla being ‘directly responsible’. She’s the one who killed Viren. And Claudia is going to need someone to blame.

While she’ll still love and miss her brother (and again, I would be shocked if Claudia doesn’t have a redemption arc with Soren as a key piece of it) Claudia is still able to look at her brother like this.

Which is worrisome, to say the least. And Claudia doesn’t have 16+ years of positive, loving sibling-hood, or even friendship (like with Ezran or Callum) with Rayla to soften the blow. If she didn’t care about Rayla as an extension of when she actually cared about Callum and Ezran, then why would she not be out with a vengeance for Rayla now that Callum and Ezran are also easy to blame for all her problems?

The most recent Hot Brown Morning Potion with Claudia’s VA, Racquel Belmonte, confirmed what I had immediately assumed: if Rayla had fallen alongside Viren, Claudia 100% would have used her body for parts.

Rayla, likewise, has zero reason to like Claudia. The girl has attacked her on numerous occasions, hurt all of the people she’s cared about, definitely crossed a line with Dark Magic in necromancing Viren, and in Rayla’s eyes, with being a Dark Mage in general.

That being said, Rayla and Claudia having a largely negative relationship doesn’t mean they don’t have a flat out fascinating one. If only because of their parallels.

Rayla’s core flaw is that she fears abandonment, and will always leave first (hence why she would rather push people away than let them in, or her self sacrificial nature in 2x07, 3x08 and 3x09). She leaves first to avoid being left. She would rather abandon than be abandoned.

Claudia’s core flaw is that she would rather be left than leave someone else, the way her mother did. That’s why she chooses inaction, allowing for the cognitive dissonance to take shape so she “doesn’t have to choose, not again!” She would rather be abandoned than abandon.

If Claudia keeps going down her current path long enough, eventually her hair will be entirely white… and match Rayla’s. I was speaking with a friend the other day about how, in some ways, Rayla has ‘stolen’ Claudia’s life. Now she’s the one who’s friends with Ezran, welcome in the palace, in a loving relationship with Callum, and going to have a positive relationship with Soren. Claudia has, in many ways, lost all of that.

However, Rayla and Soren are also in unique places to understand Claudia. For Soren, that is his baby sister, and he knows their father. There’s ample reason to believe that his speech (“And… it was hard to see because I really… I really looked up to him. He’s smart and the way he talks, you really believe that he’s a good person, that everything he does is to protect his family, his home, or all of humanity. He makes you think that as long as you do what he says, you must be doing the right thing. Even when he asks you to do something bad”) applies to her too. And she’s been given less reason to see the faultlines than Soren had. It speaks volumes about Claudia that Viren knew he couldn’t ask her to / tell her the truth about killing the princes.

But Rayla also knows what it’s like to be asked by a father (figure - Runaan) to do something that’s supposed to be right, even if it feels wrong. She knows what it’s like to need to atone yourself and look for redemption (for her parents and then for attacking the boys). To see the prices you’ve paid or were willing to pay (her hand) for your family. So I could see Rayla being sympathetic towards Claudia — after Claudia has put in the work to move away from Dark Magic / her father, see elves as actual people, apologized, and atoned for the harm she’s already done (and the harm she’ll likely do in future s4 and s5). As you can see, it’s a tall order, but not an impossible one.

Hence why I wrote this ficlet. Because there’s definitely something about Raydia that’s appealing and fascinating; it’s just not romantic to me.

#delicate-elite-7 #tdp claudia #tdp rayla #raydia #thanks for asking #analysis #analysis series #parallels #s1 #s2 #s5 #claudia #rayla #requests

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