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the-witty-pen-name · 2 years

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Edward Nashton (The Batman) x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

College AU

Warnings: Stalking & other creepy behavior, Manipulation, Incel/Misogynistic Mindset, Alcohol and other substances, Descriptions of Smut and Masturbation, Cursing

As usual, this is unedited and if there are any tags or warnings I may have forgotten to include, please let me know.

THIS IS AN 18+ STORY WITH DARK THEMES, PAY ATTENTION TO WARNINGS AND MINORS DNI

You’re so sweet. Soft and warm, and everything that just clouds his focus. He’s memorized every curve, and the natural sway when you walk into a room. It’s like sunshine when you smile, and he notices the way they gravitate towards you. Of course they do, they all do. He’s not naive enough to believe he’s not the only one who wants to be near you. It’s effortless, the way people are drawn to you. But it’s in vain, every time, polite rejections that leave people somehow liking you more. You’re loyal, such a good girl for him, because you know you’re his.

His first impression of you was stereotypical. He pegged you to be another daft popular girl who has clawed her way to the top of the social ladder. Superficial and dumb, being able to use your looks for everything. His observations of people and their trends led him to assume, which he regrets. Somehow, you break the mold, everything he’s observed about social hierarchy out the window. It’s infuriating at first, because you’re just so nice- like god just made you out of a small piece of heaven. Fuck, and you’re so smart.

The first time you interrupted the professor in lecture to correct him (politely, of course- a sweetheart) he thought it was puzzling. You were puzzling. A challenge to figure out, to open up slowly and unravel. It started out innocently, just the sheer curiosity gnawing at him. You were a mystery, and he needed to satisfy that curiosity that was becoming more and more bothersome.

It’s easy to find your full name on the professor’s class roster, all he needed to do was pretend to have questions during office hours. The dimwit goes to get coffee and he’s able to sneak a peak at the list without disrupting anything on the desk. It goes perfectly. And one search on Instagram takes him to your page easily. Except it’s a good damn book dedicated Instagram. Irritating, honestly, but he applauds you for keeping your actual account private, which is the second account in the list of suggestions. It’s dumb that you can’t zoom in on profile pictures.

For now, he settled on lurking at the bookstagram, as you called it in the bio. Cute. That night at home instead of working on his other projects, he stayed up reading each of the long captions you’d written out reviewing each book you had read. Some of them he recognized as ones that were very popular, others were classics, some graphic novels, it was a rather eclectic mix of genres. He liked that. No non-fiction though, he made note. Interesting. He can’t blame you for that.

Once he worked his way through your page, he ends up ordering a few of the titles on Amazon. He’d usually opt for the library, which he used for some other titles you said you liked that he placed holds for. But to get started sooner, the two day shipping was a godsend. He figured he’d have one with him in class, keep it on his desk, carry it around campus with the cover outward, an attempt to catch your eye. Strike up a conversation, figure out something else about you.

He also found himself wanting to read some of these just because of how your posts made them sound. However, his main motive was to use them as a prop in an attempt to have an excuse to talk to you. He would lure you in to him, so he doesn’t have to go out of his way. It’s more natural this way. You’re the social butterfly, fluttering around being outgoing and sociable while he was the quiet one. The mysterious, reserved one. It makes more sense for you to reach out to start that first important conversation than him. And with a copy of a book you rated five stars in hand, he thinks it will work out just as he would like to.

He’d document your schedule as close as he could manage. Observe your daily routine, where you go, when. That way he can plan where he can run into you. Running to the campus coffee cart between classes for you to see him casually reading Madeline Miller or James Joyce or Ottessa Moshfegh or Fredrik Backman something else you’ve read that’s just popular enough to not make you suspicious.

Edward is very good at being invisible. It’s not even something he needs to try at. He’s gone his whole life being naturally ignored, dismissible. He can hide in plain sight as he marks down the time in his journal when you are leaving your third and last class of the day. He sits at the picnic benches outside the dining hall that are on the far side of the quad. From here, he can see almost all of the main campus. It also helps most of the building are comprised of large windows. He can watch you in your dorm building, right up to your floor until you disappear behind your door.

It’s up to him to imagine the rest of your routine as he walks back to his own dorm. The things you do when your doors are closed and you realize you’re alone again, your roommate spending the night with that quarterback boyfriend of hers.

He imagines everything. The way your backpack thuds and how you kick off your sneakers and leave them haphazard on the floor by the door. Your bra off in one fluid motion and tossed into your hamper without even having to look to see if it went in. You sit at your desk, and feed the pet fish you aren’t supposed to have. Naughty girl. You get started on your work right away. Getting the tedious chore out of the way so you can surrender yourself to your bed. Most people just give in to that temptation right away. Not you. You opt to sit incorrectly in your chair, and change from one obscure position after the other (that’s why your back hurts by the way, darling) until you’ve written your last discussion post and submitted the last paper. Then, you enjoy yourself. He imagines you might love your routines. He can put himself right there on the bed, paperback book folded in his hands that is ignored, because he’s so focused on you.

You’re someone whose routine involves a lot of walking back and forth. From the bathroom, to your dresser, to the bathroom again, to your vanity, to your closet, until you’ve successfully paced around the room enough times to spark the carpet. He’ll tease you, his own routine more carefully constructed and requires much less products- although he can imagine himself adding more once you share with him the things he should be doing.

You’ll walk around in your favorite little pair of pajama shorts- or better yet you might steal his boxers to sleep in. Paired with his shirt, and he’s enraptured with the way your chest strains the material. He thinks you’d look really cute with the towel wrapped around your hair fresh out of the shower, walking around the room brushing your teeth desperately looking for something that is never in the right place. Then the towel strewn over your desk chair and he watches intently as you care for your hair. And the way you apply lotion head to toe, and the way the sweet scent of it fills the whole room. You’d get shy when you finally notice he’s been looking at you. It’s so fucking cute. He can hardly stand not holding you when you look at him that way.

He’s probably screwed himself, not thinking about the side effects of using a scented lotion until after he’s finished, but he can’t even find it in him to care right now. His heavy breaths fill his room, and he needs to clean himself up. It’ll be fine. It was worth it, he thinks, to have something that smells like you to allow him to slip into his little fantasy. His whole room smells of strawberry and brown sugar, and he just wallows in the way the empty feeling in his stomach just makes him yearn for you. That time it all felt too fucking real.

His mind almost scares him, how the imagines he conjures up can become like memories. He knows they are a figment of his imagination, but sometimes that line between his false memories and his much more depressing reality becomes more and more blurred the more he dreams of you.

It finally happens the next time he’s outside having his lunch. He’s sitting under a tree in the quad, occasionally taking bites of his sandwich but the book he’s reading is taking up the majority of his attention. He’s gotten lost in the pages, and he doesn’t even remember the rest of the world exists until a shadow steps in front of the sun, blocking the light from hitting the pages he was engrossed in.

“I loved that book,” a voice says. He can hear the smile in your tone. You’re actually acknowledging his existence. He needs to give himself a pep talk before he can even bear to look up and face you.

“I o-only just started,” he says sheepishly, looking down- adamant on staring at a blade of grass in front of him.

“Cool,” you reply, “You need to tell me what you think of it, okay? See ya, Eddie.”

Eddie? No one in his life has ever called him Eddie. He detested being called Eddie until this exact moment. He hated the nickname, always thinking it was childish and demeaning. But not when you say it. It’s so sincere, and so nice the way the syllables fall off your lips. Just you. You are the exception to his disdain for it. He’ll be Eddie for you- your Eddie. Loyal, devoted, head over heels for only you Eddie.

He thinks about all the ways he wants to hear you call him that. In-between laughs, slapping his arm playfully when one of his jokes makes you laugh. A lighthearted chastising, your head tilted in skepticism as he tells you about all the elaborate plans he’s made for the future. A choked sobbed in surprise and excitement when he gets down on one knee. A breathy, whispered moan in his ear when he’s fucking you gently, pulling you apart, or a scream out in ecstasy when you’re begging him to let you cum- shit. He places the book on his lap, and pretends to check his phone while he waits for when he can get up. He groans at how painful it is, to not be able to have you now like how he wants.

It’s not like he makes it a habit to follow you. Sometimes, it’s a pleasant surprise when it happens all on it’s own. However, more often than not, it’s not up to chance. It’s a calculated, meticulous plan to execute the ideal rom com meet cute. You deserve that. The movie perfect romance where he, the right guy, magically is ushered in under quirky circumstances and somehow the meetings turn into feelings.

This is too Pretty in Pink, the god awful frat party in this huge house on campus. He still can’t believe he got in. But as luck would have it, roommate’s quarterback boyfriend needed a few passing assignments to keep from failing Calculus. And with that, Edward Nashton has somehow managed to score an invite to the biggest Halloween party of the semester- and of course, you’d be one of the many attendees. However, you don’t need an invite. You’re expected. These are your friends and you run in their circles. Also, any girl who shows up on this doorstep tonight is going to get in without a fret- no invite or name drop needed. He on the other hand needs to convince the two surly guys at the door he got an invite from their surly friend and after a while of back and forth they reluctantly let him in.

He’s elbow to elbow with tons of sweaty, gyrating strangers as he tries his best to navigate the house. The stairs, the hallways, every room is packed and the flashing lights also obscure his vision. There’s a deejay in the common room, the speakers blasting electronic music are making the floor vibrate. He is so out of his element, but he’s here for you. Because he’s a good boyfriend to you, and he goes places he doesn’t like but that makes you happy.

He’ll gladly hold your bags when you go shopping. He’ll think about everything you find important. Color, texture, finding the perfect things… he will wander with you for hours until you’re happy. He’ll absolve any worry. He will never tell you the rather poor shape of his finances at the moment, but it’s not important. Anything you want, he’ll let you just charge his card. You’re worth it.

Book stores. He knows how often you frequent them from the time you spend together, and the library- based on the barcodes on the pictures you post on your Instagram. He’s even got your card number memorized. He’ll bring you there, find a corner and just read together. You seem to be more into contemporaries, it will be a good balance. He tends to favor more classics himself but he’ll appease you and let you tell him about whatever book you just read- cover to cover, fuck spoilers. He just wants to watch the way talking about it excites you.

He hangs back, just resting his back against the wall. He still hasn’t seen you yet, but he’s content to wait, you too have all night. He watches as people dance and try to yell over the music. The flashes from cameras make his eyes hurt. He’s never observed a more self-absorbed crowd. They chug down whatever mystery concoction they have in their red cups and he hopes that you know better than to trust whatever is in there.

There’s puffs of smoke from a girl in leather pants and basically a top that might as well be a bra as she passes around a joint for her and her friends to share. It stinks up the whole house, and he just knows he’s going to reek of it. He looks down at his phone, trying to pretend he’s doing something. Anything to make himself look indifferent and not at all desperate and out of place. He’s not sure how well he’s doing.

You’re holding a can of something. You’re a smart girl to choose something here where you can break the seal yourself. You hold it in a way where your palm covers the open top as you let your friend weave the two of you through the crowd, giggling amongst yourselves. You look radiant when you’re like this. Happy and carefree from letting just a little bit of your inhibitions down. You work so hard, you deserve a little bit of fun. He just wished it wouldn’t be places like this. He doesn’t understand how everyone here can just keep to themselves when just you passing through the room disrupts the atmosphere. You smell like peach body mist, and it just hits him back against the wall when it wafts by him.

“Hi Eddie,” you giggle as your friend drags you past. You offer him a friendly smile, and hold up your High Noon as a wave he thinks. Either way, he couldn’t care less. You look so beautiful, and you smiled at him. You’re happy because of him. You’re happy he’s here. His chest puffs up slightly in pride, and he can feel himself naturally stand up a little bit straighter.

“I finished the book,” he calls after you, instinctively reaching into the inner pocket of his coat to take out his copy- to give you his annotated copy. By some miracle, you hear him. He can see your eyes light up, and you signal to your friend to go on without you.

“Did you like it?” you ask excitedly, shouting over the music, leaning in closer to hear him. His breath catches in his throat and he’s not sure he can muster up enough air to answer. He finally manages out a yes, and you look confused- clear you can’t hear him. “Let’s go outside!” you say over the music and point towards the kitchen. He gulps and nods, following your lead.

Crowds just seem to naturally part for you, and your presence is met with hellos and other greetings. You smile, and acknowledge each person who acknowledges you and you just make it look so effortless. He trails behind you closely, trying hard to not stare. You push open the back screen door, and there’s a small back porch. You’ve clearly been here before. He wonders what has brought you back here. A fight, a messy breakup, just needing air, or maybe it’s the stress you must feel being so obligated to make appearances. Either way, it’s a special place, and he’s so honored you’re sharing it with him.

“Much better,” you note, the sounds of the party muffled. “So you liked it?”

“Y-yeah,” he fumbles trying to take the copy out of his coat. He somehow manages to hand it over to you. “I uh, thought you’d want to look through my notes.”

“Cool,” you smile, “Definitely. Thanks.” You tuck it under your armpit, opting to give him your full attention. “What was your favorite part? Ah, none of my other friends are readers and I’m desperate to talk to someone about it!”

His brain short circuits when you say the words ‘I’m desperate’ out loud and he pretends to clear his throat. You also said ‘my other friends’ which clearly implies Eddie is a friend. That’s it? That’s okay, he tells himself. Good girls like you go slow, and he knows that you’re worth it.

“I really loved- uh, I underlined it,” he begins, and gestures to the book. You hand it over and he mumbles a small thanks, pushing his glasses up. He flips through the tabbed pages, and searches until he finds the right page.

“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd – The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”

He looks up, and the way you are looking at him has him convinced you know. You know that quote pulled every single thought that he ever thought of you and put it there in black and white. The way he feels the tension between the two of you rise as a silent lull clouds gently over the two of you- like you’re the only two people here. Every painful reminder of the false memories he conjures feels like they are slipping away, and his mind is ready to make tangible ones with you- memories he can feel, and experience with all his senses.

“That’s one of my favorite passages too,” you muse, and he nods. He’s sure his face is as pink as your top that he’s just noticed how it fits so snugly around your chest just oh so perfectly- fuck are you even wearing a bra?

“Yea- uh..” before he’s able to even respond, the screen door creaks open and someone calls out your name. The interruption seems to startle you both slightly.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” the guy says poking his head out. Muscular, tall, backwards hat and a tank top with arm holes that almost reach the waist of his… ah, camo cargo shorts. Seriously, sweetheart, where do you even find these people? Oh, a mouth breather as well…

“No it’s okay, Chris, um,” you force a smile, and take a step back from him. Your attention now focused on the frat boy who looks like he’s trying his hardest to spark a thought by rubbing his two final brain cells together. “This is Eddie,” you say, introducing him, “We’re in a class together. We were just talking about a book we both read.” He purses his lips together and forces a closed lip smile toward this other person.

“Eddie, this is my boyfriend Chris.”

Boyfriend.

The large doofus has the audacity to just jerk his chin upwards as some form of acknowledging Edward’s existence, before he steps out onto the porch to press a kiss to your lips, and Edward feels like his entire world is just going to collapse in on himself at any moment.

How could you have a boyfriend? You made no attempt to see him these past weeks, or Edward would have seen. How could this major fucking road block not have reared it’s ugly head until now? You have a boyfriend, and it’s not looking like he’s going anywhere the way he’s snaking his arms around you from behind. You wiggle out of his grasp, not comfortable with the PDA which he can appreciate at least.

“Nice to meet you,” he manages to stutter out before sliding the book back into the inner pocket of his jacket. “I’m gonna be heading out soon anyways so-”

“It’s so early though!” you pout, “It’s too bad, but we’ll hook up at the next one, yeah?”

You have no idea how you’re able to take his breath away. It gets lodged in the back of his throat and he feels his cheeks redden. He knows what you mean, nothing sexual or physical by any means, but fuck- he could swear you do this on purpose. Your little innocent phrases with double meanings, and your suggestive stares, and just how fucking sweet you are.

“Y-eah, f-for sure,” he blushes, making his leave heading down the back stairs. He cuts across the back yard to his dorm building to call it a night.

You’re right that it was early, but there was no point in sticking around that cesspool of a house if you were just going to be tongue tied with that fucking guy for the rest of the night. He’d rather not see that. He needs to devise a new plan. A way for you to realize you’re wasting your time with this loser, and to realize that your Eddie has been there this whole time- patient and just ready to worship you if you only let him.

#edward nashton #Edward Nashton x reader #the Batman riddler #paul dano characters #Edward Nashton x reader smut #the riddler x reader smut #Edward Nashton x f!reader #tw: stalking #tw: dark fic #ed nashton #Ed Nashton x reader #Paul dano riddler #Paul dano riddler x reader #college au #reader insert

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chidoroki · 11 months

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182 Days of TPN - Day 43

Chapter 43: “81194”

I never really paid too much attention to the chapter titles until I started doing this, so naturally I was unaware one title was simply Ray’s farm identifier. Yeah I noticed the titles when I first read the manga and when new chapters released way back, but I obviously don’t remember any of them now! I have a hard enough time trying to remember the id’s of the other GF kids. (honestly, I dunno any of them aside from the fullscore trio and Isabella’s).

One of the big reasons why this scene feels so short in anime is, of course, the lack of internal dialogue. We even get a moment of hearing the pursuer’s thoughts later on too, as it tries to figure out if it cornered 16194 (Don) or 81194. Yet another loss because we don’t get to see how hard Ray is pushing his brain into overdrive trying to think of a way out of this mess.

The house didn’t have knives but it had a pair of scissors? Unless it’s also from the infirmary..? I know Krone mentioned the room had a scalpel (which the kids do still have as Ray used it to get water from the anemones two chapters ago) but I don’t remember anything about there being scissors anywhere. Eh, whatever.

My boy is so smart. With one less thing to worry about, he can now focus on his own survival. I love that cocky grin of his. He even seems proud that everyone else managed to stay safe so far.

Damn right you gotta to live! Your family needs you! Better yet, they truly want him in their lives as well! Aaahhh he’s so devoted to Emma & the others (as if he wasn’t for his entire life already) and I just love him so very much.

I am grateful that he was thinking ahead if the worst does happen, but the chances of any of the kids finding this small carved message on this exact tree is so darn slim. This forest is massive and they surely can’t waste any time backtracking with demons lurking.

Though Emma can still hear out of her left ear, we occasionally see her rely on her right a bit more, such as now when the kids react to the pursuer whistling to signal its allies. (She uses a similar method to both ears in ch100 and puts her right ear straight to the ground in ch67.)

Mhhhmm she believes in him so much aahh. Also, head pat! Though the anime changes Chris to Jemima here.

Her wound and all this anxiety certainly isn’t doing wonders for her health. Anndd yet another head pat. (I’m like..so tempted to make a whole post dedicated to all the head pats. maybe. eventually..if I remember.)

She was, indeed, not okay. And I know I shouldn’t be impressed that she lasted this long but.. I am. On top of all the blood loss and her whole body heating up, she’s been running for her damn life, while also keeping everyone else safe, and now she’s panicking that one of her best friends could potentially be captured and eaten.. that’s just a lot to handle at once. This girl has been suffering physically, mentally and emotionally for way longer than necessary.

Can’t deny the anime made the whole forest look real pretty though.

Favorite panel/moment:

When a moment is so good we get three variations of it! HELL YEAH! (goes without saying but the cover to volume 6 is one of my favorites).

End of volume 5.

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #182daysoftpn #chidoroki used chatter

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piratesfromspace · 3 years

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Finance Management (Deckard Shaw/Reader)

Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious) x Reader

Word count: 1.9k CW: mention of food & alcohol, smut

Female reader

Note: This short fic has been inspired by a friend of mine who created the character of the financial advisor of mister Shaw. Also there is not enough fics with Deckard Shaw so here we are.

Read on Ao3

MASTERLIST

“Mister Shaw, it’s me again, I’m so sorry but I really need you to call me back please. It’s important. Thank you.”

You let out a deep sigh as you hang up. Handling the finances of rich people is a lucrative and thrilling job, but damn it sometimes those clients of yours are annoying. Especially Mister Shaw.

First, he’s annoyingly busy and unreachable. Most powerful people are, but he can disappear for weeks on end without so much as sending an email.

Second, he’s also infuriatingly handsome and smart and funny. And he has an impeccable sense of style. He has nothing in common with the other clients of your firm, mainly old and boring men, whose only conversation subject is their money and how they hate their wives.

And finally, the worst thing about him is how good of a lover he is. You found out half a year ago, when you ended up in his bed after what should have been a regular business dinner. It was a mistake of course. One that could have cost you your career because it was a very serious breach of contract to sleep with a client.

You never told a soul, and you promised yourself to never do it again. But it was still hard to forget the feeling of him pressed against you, of his hands holding your waist, of his mouth between your thighs...

You try to focus again on your task and stretch your legs, kicking out your high heels. Feet bare on the soft carpet, you walk to the floor-to-ceiling window of your posh office, taking a second to admire the view, as the final rays of the sun disappear over the lake, and Geneva lights up under you. It’s breath-taking, really. But it also means you’re once again staying way too late at the office. Your assistant has gone home a couple hours ago, and your colleagues are either on vacation or on business trips, making you the only person on the building’s 7th floor. You still have a few things to finish so you plop on your leather chair and get back to work, hoping to make it home before 11pm.

That’s when you hear it: the familiar *ding* of the elevator’s door, at the end of the corridor. You tense immediately. You’re not waiting for anyone, and the security guards always use the stairs when completing their patrol.

Steps are coming down your way, and you grab your phone, ready to dial for the security team. And then you recognize his silhouette through the polished glass wall. There is a knock on your door before it opens to reveal Deckard Shaw himself. He’s wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch, a very light stubble is highlighting his perfect jawbone and his deep grey eyes bear a mischievous glint. Handsome, as always.

“Mister Shaw…” you stammer.

“You know you can call me Deckard.” His stupidly sexy British accent and cocky smile will be the death of you.

He’s been in your office for two seconds and you already want to slap him in the face - or climb him like a tree, you can’t really decide.

“It’s quite late, Mister Shaw, you scared me. Anything I can do for you?” you insist on saying his family name, in a feeble attempt to maintain a professional façade.

“You needed to see me.” it’s more a comment than a question, and you’re suddenly reminded of the dozen of unanswered phone calls you made trying to reach him.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, but honestly you could have called tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather see you in person.” he answers, looking you straight in the eyes. You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re working too much you know.” he says with a soft smile, as his eyes drift down to your sore bare feet and then to the discarded heels under your desk.

What a condescending prick, you think. But at the same time, he’s right and his care seems somewhat genuine. It will not make you forget you almost lost your job because of him though.

“How did you know I was still here tonight?” you purposely redirect the attention on him, rather than you.

“Well, let’s say I would not leave the woman in charge of my assets without any... supervision.”

“Is that a polite way to say you’ve been spying on me?” you retort dryly.

“Oh I love when you’re getting all angry and snobbish, your French accent is even cuter.”

You’re gonna murder him. You really really want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s the one responsible for a very generous part of your paycheck, so you have to keep quiet.

“I would be more comfortable if we keep our conversation strictly professional, Mister Shaw.”

“Everything you want, dear.”

-----

“Mmph, fu-ck... Deckard, don’t stop”

The professional attitude has been long forgotten, since Deckard has pulled you onto his lap on the velvet couch of his presidential suite at the Four Seasons hotel, where you were supposed to only review the important documents he needed to see. But when the room service had brought a very nice bottle of Scotch, you knew you were screwed. You could not refuse a drink, and the warmth of alcohol combined with the warmth of his hand slightly brushing against your thigh had overcome all your resolve.

You are now sprawled on the king-size bed, moaning his name as Deckard Shaw is destroying your sanity very methodically. One foot on the floor, one leg bent on the edge of the bed, he’s pounding into you, holding your hip with one hand, and circling your clit with the other. His pace is calculated, not too fast so you can feel every inch of him, but not too slow so your nerves don’t have any respite, and it’s driving you crazy. Hands tangled in the dark silk sheets beneath you, you try to catch your breath to no avail.

“I won’t stop darling. Not until I can feel you coming again all over me.” His voice is like heavy honey, dripping all over your senses, drowning you in sweet and sinful promises.

You want to close your eyes to focus on the overwhelming feelings, but the view in front of you is too good to be missed. He looks like some demi-god, bathed in the subdued light of the room, broad and muscular chest, abs perfectly drawn. What is his job again? You vaguely remember him talking about serving a few years in the military when he was younger, but he is still definitely hitting the gym on a regular basis.

His muscles flex when he brings you down on his thick cock a little more sharply than before, and you keen as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. You can feel your orgasm build again, and so can he.

“You’re close, princess, aren’t you?”

You mewl in response and he chuckles darkly, keeping up with his ruthless assault on your most sensitive parts. He angles his fingers just a bit differently on your clit, and keeps thrusting into you, stretching you so perfectly you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good - wait , actually you can, it was a few months ago and it was by mister Deckard “annoyingly perfect” Shaw.

“Come on, I know you want to, I’ll keep going until you give me one more anyway princess…”

And that's it. You’re gone. Back arching off the bed, you come hard, harder than the first time, clenching around him. You barely hear him hiss in pleasure as you spasm helplessly on the soft sheets, the silk feeling almost cool against your burning skin.

----

“Good morning darling."

You open an eye, natural light is flooding the room, as is the delicious smell of fresh coffee and tea. At the foot of the bed, you spot a room service trolley loaded with breakfast treats and through the open door of the bathroom, you can see Deckard is looking at you in the mirror reflection while buttoning a crisp white shirt.

"Your tea is ready. Black, no milk, right?”

He's right and it's annoying because is there anything this man messes up?

"What time is it?" You ask, suddenly remembering you have a busy schedule today.

"You have 27 minutes to eat and get ready, so I can drop you off at your office in time for your first call of the day."

He knows about your tea preferences and your professional agenda, of course he does , he was not joking when mentioning the whole "spying-on-you" situation, or "supervision" as he liked to call it. He needs to stop it, but you decide to keep this discussion for another day.

You stretch, and rise to put on the hotel bathrobe, sighing at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as yesterday. Last you saw them, they were scattered on the floor all over the room and your underwear were positively ruined.

"The concierge was very helpful this morning, thanks to him I got you a few clothes delivered for today." Deckard adds as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the cart and gestures to the leather armchair where a couple of bags doning logos of luxury brands are perched.

You make your way to the packages, and open the first one to reveal a sophisticated dress, fitted and sexy, but not too much that it would be inappropriate as office wear. The second bag is a thoughtful selection of high end make-up products. And the last one contains a gorgeous set of lacy lingerie, nothing too raunchy but sexy nonetheless. Of course everything is in the right size.

"Thank you..." you whisper, a little stunned. The assortment must have cost him a couple grands at the very least - not that he can't afford it because you're well placed to be sure he can, but still, he did not have to do this.

You have to suppress a smile, because damn he's being annoyingly perfect once more, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction to reveal he was right when promising you could stay the night instead of going home and still look fresh for your day at work.

"I was thinking, I'm free tonight, so maybe we can finally review those documents, you know the ones you were supposed to show me before you jumped on me on the couch last night?" Deckard states as he bites in an apple in front of the window, casually looking at lake Geneva glinting in the bright morning sun.

You blush unwillingly, struggling to find a reply that would save you from admitting you had failed at enforcing your usual work ethic.

"I'm kidding dear!" He barks in a laugh. "I know enough to trust you on this venture, you have my approval to go on with the investment." He continues more seriously.

You open your mouth to answer but he's quicker.

"I'm not kidding about being free though, so what about dinner and then we can see where this takes us…"

When you don't answer immediately, he turns to look at you. Maybe he's realizing the situation can be awkward and precarious for you since you're technically working for him.

"You can say no, I won't take any offense." He adds without irony.

"Yes..." You finally answer, tip toeing toward him until you can snatch the apple he was eating from him. He protests but you shush him.

"...Yes, I would like this very much..."

As he starts to protest again, you take a big bite from the fruit with a knowing smile.

"...but only for dinner. Nothing more."

"You'll be the death of me." Deckard says, falsely irritated, his voice dropping lower.

"At least the feeling is mutual, mister Shaw ..."

#deckard shaw #deckard shaw x reader #female reader #fast and furious #hobbs and shaw #deckard shaw fanfiction #hobbs and shaw fanfiction #deckard shaw / reader #jason statham #jason statham imagine #smut #hobbs and shaw smut #deckard shaw reader insert #fast and furious fanfiction

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father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years

Text

alphabet boy

SYNOPSIS: You should feel extremely lucky that the handsome and intelligent Armin Arlert is your tutor...even when he's a little mean to you. Because that's your fault, isn't it? He wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so damn stupid.

PAIRING: Armin x FEM!Reader

DEDICATED TO: armin fuckers. non armin fuckers, i hope i can convert you.

TW: dubcon touching, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, academia shaming,

WC: 1.8k

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this class.”

He said it so casually, a comment spoken between the flip of textbook pages. You couldn’t shake off the undeniable hurt.

“I-Uhm, uh, yeah I have to study a lot...but I like this class. It was a pain to get off the waitlist.” You keep your voice optimistic and light, hoping to mask the offense taken.

You don’t know why Armin would say that, but maybe he was just being logical...he’s seen you struggle, of course, he’d think the class was too hard for you.

The blond sighs, closing his novel that he brought with him while he waited for you to finish your practice problems.

“You can barely keep up with the weekly homework assignments. You didn’t even hand in your assignment last week, right? Better drop out now before the add and drop deadline.” His voice is soft and cold at the same time. It’s unnerving.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes set low, too ashamed to meet your tutor’s. Armin had been your tutor for the past few weeks now, and you thought it was going pretty well. He was so so smart that you couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. He was handsome too, short-cropped blond hair, wide blue eyes, with a wardrobe that was composed of slacks and sweaters.

Usually, he was always overly polite and charming. You could make countless mistakes and his patience was endless. He had some off-days where he was a little withdrawn and quiet. You never held it against him though, knowing he had no obligation to make idle chatter. But sometimes, you could feel his chilly gaze watching you even though he had a book propped open.

“I emailed the professor, he was really chill about it. Last week was really rough for me, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and...”

“You know excuses don’t fly in the real world right? You’re in college now. Professor Ackerman was just being courteous. He probably thinks you’re lazy.” Even though you try not to look at him, you can feel Armin’s azure blues burn holes into you. There was this quiet intensity about him that made you worry about when the restraints would come off.

Armin can’t help but let condescension drip over his words. Any self-respecting person would defend themselves, but not you. Not when you’re already broken by your own insecurities that make it that much easier for him to trample on.

He can already see pearly-sheened tears leaking from the corner of your hopeless eyes. How cute. You part your pretty little mouth to say something, but no words come out. You close your mouth soon enough, looking every bit like a dumb little airhead.

So he continues: “You know your classmates learned all the first few chapters from high school right? You’re the only one starting fresh.” He moves closer, elbows inching closer to infiltrate your little personal-space bubble, knees knocking into yours under the desk.

More tears form under your lower lashes, and Armin mentally counts the crystal droplets. You’re recoiling into yourself like a shrinking violet which only encourages Armin to go just a little farther.

“You don’t even have your major picked out yet. This is a core class for your classmates, you know. You’re wasting your-no, everyone’s time.”

Not wanting to cry in front of your tutor, you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, fully aware of how utterly pathetic you look right now.

In a small voice, you manage to utter, “I have a right...to be in this class. Even though I’m slow now, I think with some decent amount of studying...I’ll catch up. Even if I’m not-” you take a deep breath, “as quick as my classmates, I still really enjoy what I learn. And..and...I think at the end of the day, that’s what really matters!”

Armin scoffs, “Do you really like the class or are you staying for Ackerman? God knows how many fangirls he’s had to put up with.”

Even as he spoke those words, Armin knew it wasn’t entirely true. You admired the man zealously and had read all of his published papers. Honestly, your admiration had always annoyed him.

You wince at the insinuation but you could feel the anger simmering in your gut, “You have no right to imply that! Wh-why-” Your voice breaks, “are you being so mean?”

Armin thinks you’re so cute, the way you jut out your bottom lip. So cute and pathetic. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. It’s almost endearing how you say “mean” like it’s the worst thing a person can be.

“Am I being mean or am I being realistic?” The blond coos, “I’m your tutor, right? I know the best for you.”

He takes your silence as an invitation to goad you harder: “You’re only upset because I’m telling you what you don’t want to hear.”

You don’t notice the proximity until Armin lays his hand over yours, squeezing the soft flesh of your palms. His voice is gentle as he reassures you: “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

He made you cry, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from the only semblance of comfort given to you. His chair scrapes the floor as he sets it right beside yours, wrapping an arm around you, encouraging you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s a little sad but this is probably the most physical contact you’ve gotten in a while. You’re an utter mess, and on top of all that, touch-starved.

You’re still sniffling like a crybaby, trying to sort your own emotions out. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to face the facts:

You’re behind.

The class is too much work for you.

Armin’s right, you’re upset because he’s telling you what you don’t want to hear.

“D-do you really think I should drop the class?” Your voice is so defeated, a pinch louder than a whisper.

His long fingers play with the ends of your hair, “I know this class is really important to you and we both want you to do well...so why don’t we increase our tutoring sessions? Maybe we should meet three times a week.”

He smiles at you, and it looks so genuine. You’re immensely grateful, you are, but confusion washes over you, “Wow, Uh, that’ll be great actually but um, uni tutoring services is once a week...so-”

Armin dismisses your concerns with a gentle wave of his hands, “Don’t worry, It’ll be off the books. Think of this as private tutoring. Of course, we’ll have to start meeting in my room from now on.”

While he doesn’t elaborate on why you have to meet in his dorm, you assume Armin has a good reason and it probably involves university-sanctioned student-tutor guidelines.

You’re stammering out thank-you’s, still trying to rub the tears out of your eyes until you feel a soft handkerchief wiping them away.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He reassures, “Don’t use your sleeve. It’s too rough for your pretty face.”

You blush under his words, wide eyes locked into his oceanic blues, “I d-don’t know if I’ll be able to compensate you f-for the private tutoring.”

His eyebrows crease as he gives you a smile full of pearly teeth, “You don’t have to worry about that for now.” His hands graze over your knuckles, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you Armin.” You say it so sincerely, trying to muster the biggest smile you can after the blond essentially trampled over your self-esteem to only nurse it back with sweet promises.

“Well, we better finish today’s work then.” He responds calmly, not bothering to detangle himself from you. You can feel his body heat radiating onto you, and how his hand moved to casually rest on your thigh. But that’s normal right? If you think about it, Armin was not exactly adverse to touch. During your past tutoring sessions, his hand would always be on the small of your back or shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not getting distracted again, are you?” His voice is playful like he isn’t sliding his hand up and down the span of skin between your skirt and tights. When you don't respond, he pinches your inner thigh, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

"Focus." It's a demand so it must be followed.

Embarrassed, you nod your head and return your focus to the problem sets even though your hands are shaky as you grip the ballpoint pen.

You don’t notice how the blond’s eyes gleam under the fluorescent lighting at your easy compliance. He’s always liked obedient girls.

Your thighs are growing warmer, and it doesn’t help to have Armin peering over you. Still, you try your best to lull yourself to focus until a ringtone breaks your concentration.

Armin breaks away from you to find his phone and you find your body subconsciously missing the warmth. He lightly curses under his breath once he sees the contact name, but answers nonetheless.

“Yeah...sorry babe. I forgot. I’ll be right over.” He sounds apologetic but he looks downright bored.

And like that, the call is over. He looks over at you with an apology falling from his lips, “Sorry about that. I forgot I had something to do today. We’ll end early.”

Your throat is dry as you ask, “Was that your girlfriend?” You regretted your words the moment they escaped. That was none of your business. It doesn’t matter if he was holding you earlier. He was doing so because you were bawling like a baby. But why did he touch your thighs?

That doesn’t have to mean anything, you rationalize. Besides, Armin would never make a move on you. He was a handsome senior with a perfect GPA and a powerful position in the student government. Stupid freshman girls like you are not worth the time he so generously gives out.

The blond smirks, seeming to notice your internal struggle, “Something like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she won’t distract me from our future sessions.”

That was a puzzling comment. His girlfriend supposedly distracting from your study time wasn’t even a concern you held.

“No, no, that’s ok.” You quickly assure, “You’ve already helped me out so much.”

The blond pats the top of your head like you were a puppy, “I’d do anything for my cute little student.”

The way your face heats up with a dark blush should be criminal. All he did was pat your head, and you’re looking at him starry-eyed like he didn’t grope your thighs under the table. Honestly, all your cute little blubbering had gone straight to his cock. Annie would have to handle his big problem.

These private sessions are going to be fun.

part I ---- complete

#attack on titan fanfiction #armin arlet x reader #yandere armin arlert #armin arlet x you #armin arlert fanfic #slight dubcon #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting #tw crybaby reader'

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Note

Would you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader is a bookworm and a crow and basically Kaz asks the reader to read to him as his way of apologizing after a argument that was his fault?

it a/n i did something kinda similar in a 'promise of rain' blurb,, but this concept is so cute to me:)) love it sm i moved it up my request cue lol

also IM IN COLLEGE NOW!! WHAT?? AND IVE BEEN TO A PARTY! AND IM JOINING A SORORITY AND I DID DRAMA AUDITIONS AND AHH !! SO DIFFERENT! I MISS MY MOM AND SISTER AND DOG AND EVEN MY DAD BUT IM HAPPY HERE!!

also im a little worried this might not portray kaz superrrrr accurately bc it's been awhile so just let me know,, feedback leads to improvement:)) also kinda set this up for a part 2 bc...well youll see

They've always said a lot of things about him, and I've always heard them. But I've never quite believed them. Sure, I get why the dark things that have flourished in the poisoned soil that is Ketterdam consider Kaz Brekker the darkest thing of all. I understand the nickname 'Dirtyhands' for the gloved criminal who has fooled each crime boss at least once. I understand each terrible thing they've said about him.

But I've never agreed with them. I've never even considered agreeing with them. Until today.

The thought that maybe everything people say about him is correct in a simple context struck me worse than the silence after our argument. It made me feel like both a fool and hypocrite. Kaz and I have had our fair share of spats over the relatively short time we've known each other, but never like this. Never so badly he stormed out of the room before I could. I squeeze the book in my lap even harder, desperate to focus on the words on the pages.

You didn't hurt him. He walked away because he decided you weren't worth the cost of his expensive time. I repeat those thoughts in my mind over and over again, letting them bitter me further. It's a lot easier to be mad than hurt. A lot easier to fuel your pain than try to understand your mistakes. Besides, tiredness is already dredging around in my chest and if I don't calm down a little I won't be able to fall asleep.

I had escalated the fight more than I should have. Knowing Kaz is like performing in a tightrope act. One must always be aware of where they're going. Watching what's in front of them without ever thinking too much about what's beneath or behind them. Today though, when I needed my balance most I chose to fall. I chose to dive, and apparently there was no net.

"Oh, you're doing that thing."

I roll my eyes at Jesper's voice as I fight down a yawn. I wipe my face with the back of my palm before turning. The burning behind my eyes never resulted in full tears, but I feel better after doing so. "What thing?"

"That terribly noble thing where you find it in yourself to take full blame for every single conflict you and boss man fall into." The slight humor in his voice is enough for me to roll my eyes again. "Between you and me, I'm sure the reason he's so angry now is because you didn't do that for once."

I press my lips together as my chin angles itself upwards slightly. "I never do that." He raises an eyebrow. The slight sympathy that colors the look is more offensive than his accusation. "If I pick and choose my battles, it's for good reason."

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs once before further entering my room. I say nothing when he sits at the foot of my bed. "Oh, you know," Jesper stretches back casually, resting his back against the wall and extending his legs, "You and Kaz--Kaz and you."

Has he been drinking? Perhaps he's not here because of my unusual absence from downstairs after my fight with Kaz but because he's already too tipsy to think right. "What?"

At my confused look he grins, flashing all of his teeth with an arrogance that outshines the whiteness of them. He taps the still open book in my lap. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand." Jesper sits up a little further, amusement clear in his features. "You two make a shameful Elizabeth and Darcy--"

"Oh, shut up," I groan, glaring at him, "This isn't Pride and Prejudice. And Kaz and I," Jesper's smugness returns when I can't quite think of what I want to say, "We're barely friends--we're barely anything, let alone what you're implying."

Jesper pulls his legs up and shoves me gently. "Dearest, y/n," he ignores my glare, "You should know better than anyone that 'barely friends, barely anything' with Kaz is more than it is with anyone else?"

"That doesn't mea--"

"You two say goodnight to each other." Once. Kaz and I said good night to each other in front of Jesper once. How dare he assume it happens regularly? He's right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. "You play cards with him. Not for money, not for skill--"

"It's for practice." The look Jesper gives me is enough to tell me that my defense didn't land.

Damn him for ever finding Kaz and I on one of those strange nights. One of those nights in which he lurks at the stairwell...the one that divides my room and his attic. One of those nights in which it feels like he's a phantom and I'm the only one that can really see him. A night in which we both silently find each other.

I couldn't quite believe it the first time it happened. I'm not exactly a Crow--I don't feel enough a connection to the Dregs to join them without some kind of guarantee--but I was needed for some obscure job. but I was needed for some obscure job. The Crows needed an insider who could blend into high society, and I needed a place to stay away from my father.

It worked. I worked. And with each passing day I found myself enjoying the Crows more and more. That's why I stayed. That's why I started checking the stairwell practically every night, a set of playing cards in my hand.

The first time had been awkward. I couldn't sleep and my room felt too quiet, but the rambunctious club felt too loud and a little unsafe considering the hour. So I settled for the only space in between. When Kaz found me sitting on the steps and playing a solitary card game I had been so stunned by embarrassment I just offered to deal him in. I had been more shocked when he silently accepted my offer.

"Practice?" Jesper repeats. "You were laughing, I heard you."

"That was one time--how do you know we didn't just happen to play cards together the one time you saw it?"

"Because you laughed about a play you considered 'predictable'."

Sighing, I sit up a little straighter. "I'm not having this conversation. Occasionally saying 'goodnight' to someone who lives in the same space I live in and sometimes playing cards with said person because we both happen to be up at a certain time doesn't mean anything."

"And the way he looked at the contact that was flirting with you?"

Oh...this conversation again. "For the last time, the contact wasn't flirting with me. We had to dance to blend in and when he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear...it was to tell me the intel Kaz just had to have."

"And when he tucked that strand of hair behind your ear?"

"He just wanted to sell our cove--"

"Y/n, he kissed your cheek and I'm fairly certain he would have kissed you if Kaz and I hadn't made it to the corridor at that second."

Why is everyone so obsessed with what would have never happened? The contact had been attractive, tall with fair eyes and hair. But it's not like I feel anything for him, nor would I have been so foolish during a job. A fact that Kaz refuses to believe. I'm tired of this argument...I'm just tired. This job required me to start getting ready early in the morning and lasted long into the night.

"I wouldn't have kissed him and even if I had, the fact that Kaz is so mad about feels...sexist." A stupid argument, considering that Kaz couldn't care less if the person he's working with is female, male, or anything in between because the only thing he cares about is profit. "It's a stupid thing to be mad about, but you hit on anything with a pulse at any time and--"

"I resent that--"

"For the first two weeks I was here I thought you might've been a prostitute."

I can feel him holding in a laugh. "Did you at least think I was a good prostitute?" When I glare again, he finally actually laughs. "Not the point--got it."

"Then what is the point? You're bored and obsessed with gossip so now you're shaking me for information you don't need."

"The point is you're oblivious." Rude...I move my leg in a weak attempt to push him off my bed. Jesper catches my ankle easily, ignoring my attempt at a fight. "You thought the contact was only doing his job and you don't know the real reason that Kaz blew up at you for the first time the way he blows up at everyone."

"Okay, well since you know everything, tell me why he's mad."

He lets out a sigh like he can't believe I even needed to ask that. "It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy."

...Maybe he is drunk? "Don't be so cryptic. I don't like you enough to put up with that."

Jesper half-sighs again before pushing himself off my bed. "I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that."

"Asshole," I mumble instinctually as he walks towards my door. "Are you not telling me because I tried to push you off the bed?"

He turns when he reaches my door in order to lean against my door frame. "It's not not because of that." I should throw my book at his head. "In all seriousness, think about it. If you don't you'll either kill each other or kill me."

Ugh...he's so confusing. This time, I let him go. He leaves he door open, which is beyond annoying. I stand up to close it, promising myself I will focus on my book the second it's in my hands again. As I walk back towards my bed, my eyes land on the deck of cards on my nightstand.

Does it send a signal I don't want to send if I don't go the stairwell tonight? Do I want to send a signal? I don't know...actually, the only thing I know is that I don't want to think about this a second longer. I don't ease as I read, but my eyelids become heavier with each word they cross. I feel the weight of them as my focus slips, farther and farther away until I can no longer focus. When my eyes fall shut I can't bring myself to think or force them open.

I notice my surprised before I register that I've just woken up. Falling asleep feels so far and yet the crick in my neck confirms the obvious. Rubbing the eyes with the back of my hand, I push my book from my lap and sit up. The only indication of how much time has passed is how much my bedside candle has melted.

How long have I been asleep? How did I manage to fall asleep? I thought I was too mad at Kaz to manage anything but pouting in my room. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to talk to him.

I stand even though I haven't decided anything. I should at least change if I want to go to bed. But is leaving this alone for even longer a bad idea? I think Jesper thought so...though my conversation with him is far from clear. It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy. I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that. What does he want me to do with that?

Maybe he was partially intoxicated and felt the need to play the role of a good friend. Or maybe this is his idea of a joke.

Whatever--regardless of Jesper, I have a choice to make. A tiny part of me hopes it's insignificant, but I know Kaz enough to know that nothing is insignificant to him. He holds onto things the way he holds onto his kruge. Perhaps I'll seek out Inej, she seems to be the best at rationalizing. Though she might be asleep by now, or on a job or...I don't even know.

How late is it? Is it late enough to be one of the few hours Kaz claims to reserve for sleep? Maybe my bad luck is still around and he's already in bed for once. Does that mean his anger will extend to tomorrow?

I shouldn't care. It's not like I'm in the wrong. Did I escalate things? Maybe a little...but I won't apologize for defending myself. Even though that makes everything a little easier. I feel stuck, like in some kind of place of half sleep. A single knock at my door is enough to make me want to jump. I rub my eyes a little more firmly in hopes of waking up more before someone sees me.

I approach the door without worry. Maybe it's not as late as I assumed. Or maybe it's really early? I open the door while still fighting against my slight disorientation. I'm so focused on acting normal, I almost don’t register the person standing at my door.

I don’t know who I expected, or what--maybe Jesper, much more tipsy than he was before, slumped against the doorframe, only knocking because he’s too tired to push the door open. Maybe even Inej, on her way here to deliver some kind of job or notice of dismissal. But it’s nothing I could expect. It’s...Kaz.

The Dirtyhands stands at my door, expression as hard as ever yet something behind his eyes that burns the sleep away from me. “Uh--hi.” I bite my tongue to avoid cringing at that very awkward beginning. “Are you here to kick me out yourself?” The only response I get is the slightest shift of his gaze off of my face. “No? Well then I think I’m going to bed. It’s late.”

My tone and words are clear. Get out of my doorway, I’m in no mood to go back to arguing. When he still doesn’t say anything, I’m emboldened by my nerves. I push the door between us without breaking eye contact.

Before the wood can meet the doorframe, he moves his cane, wedging it between us. “Y/n.” I don’t understand the way he says my name, but I’m certain he’s never said it like that. “I...” When he’s not prompted by the uncomfortableness of silence, I raise an eyebrow, my grip on the door tightening. “What I said shouldn’t have been said.” Wait--is he admitting fault? I’m so thrown I almost melt entirely. “Not to you.”

The addition leaves him so lowly a part of me wonders if I’ve imagined it. I’m so thrown by it I don’t even think to reply until a long second has passed. “You seemed to believe the opposite a few hours ago.”

His lips press together for a moment. “You didn’t ask me to play cards tonight.” He took that as intentional? At least that got me some kind of apology? I keep my mouth shut, greed making me want more information. I guess he must sense my silent tugging because he head inclines slightly. “Don’t push.”

I fight down a grin. “Push what?” His only response to stiffen further. “I’m going to tell you something as a peace offering.” That seems to intrigue him in some way. I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of interested, but I note the slight raise of his eyebrows and his intentional silence. “I didn’t chose not to ask you to play cards.” He gives me no indication of anything, which is fair...considering my vagueness. “I was mad, obviously, and in the middle of deciding on a course of action...and then I fell asleep.”

A long pause of silence. “You fell asleep?”

I’m not sure if his incredulous tone should offend me or not. If I wanted to lie, I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I’d have thought of a better excuse than that. Or at least a less embarrassing one. “Yes, it’s not that difficult to believe. Today had been long and all I wanted to do was read, but then Jesper came in to say the oddest things and then leave me to...”

Oh--oh. I guess there’s a reason people say to ‘sleep on’ something. Because now, actively remembering Jesper’s words for the first time since I fell asleep...I understand what Jesper was implying in the oddest way possible. He meant that Kaz and I...that perhaps there is a Kaz and I in a context that’s more than just grammatical. Wow. I really had to realize this with Kaz right in front of me.

My face feels warmer than it did before, an irrational bout of anxiety forcing me to consider that me might be able to read impossible, embarrassing thoughts from my expression alone.

“What did Jesper say?” I’m too lost in my own spiral of confusion and panic and some feeling I can’t recognize to register how Kaz asks his question. There’s an edge to it, an odd one, but that could easily just be Kaz.

This is most definitely the last conversation we need to be having. I’m still mad at him for his earlier dramatics. So I just shake my head, feigning an exhaustion I could lose myself in. “Nothing and everything all at once.” I resist the urge to rub my eyes again. “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, and I wasn’t really listening. I was just trying to read.”

Kaz’s expression hardens briefly as he takes in my words, and then he exhales, nodding once with the breath. “What were you reading?”

My lips part instinctually, ready to spew off details about the latest novel that’s captured my attention. But before I can let myself take off, the reality of the situation strikes me directly in the chest. This is not Nina, or Inej, or even Jesper after what he considers a ‘good night’. This is Kaz Brekker, the man believed to not have a soul. I’ve spoken to him before about casual things, though most of the nights in which we end up playing cards or just sitting near each other are spent in silence. But he’s never prompted me before. Not in the one topic he knows is guaranteed to turn me into an overenthusiastic, gushing fountain of poor summaries and character analysis.

I guess this is his peace offering. This shouldn’t warm the way it does. He was still unbelievably dramatic and treated me like I’m some kind of unreliable fool. “It’s late, and you know how I can be. I’d hate to keep you for nothing more than a poor summary and honestly, an embarrassing rant about plot or characters, because there’s just nothing as frustrating as when two people so clearly care about each other and both are too stubborn and oblivious to acknowledge it.”

Kaz’s eyebrows draw together just enough for me to be able to make out a shift of expression in the poor light. Perhaps his lingering irritation is preparing to rear its ugly head. The corner of his mouth seems to threaten to tilt upwards as Kaz angles his head to the side slightly. “I can’t imagine that position.”

No kidding. I bite my tongue to keep the sarcastic comment and awkward laugh that would sure follow it away. “Who can? That’s like half the point of reading.”

How can interaction feel so over and just at its beginning all at once? I press my lips together to avoid filling the silence with things I’d no doubt instantly regret. It’s easy to be mad at Kaz in the moment. Too easy. But to stay mad at him when his temper has passed and he returns with some kind of begrudging and admittedly awkward and uncertain truce is another task entirely.

“I’ve never understood your attachment to written words.”

“It’s not about understanding, it’s about everything else.”

“And you say I’m cryptic.” Is he...kinda almost joking? I straighten my spine, too tired to fight and too wounded to forgive. “There’s understanding in everything, nothing can survive on sentiment alone.”

“If you read the way I did, you’d understand.”

His lips press together as his expression remains unwavering in its hardness. “Read to me.”

...Interacting with Kaz in any way often leaves me feeling like I’m wandering through unknown territory. But this, this is undeniably different. So different I can’t even think of a way to react. I watch his expression as cautiously as possible. He’s purely reserved, no distinction from the look he wears during business propositions. Except there’s a tightness I can’t quite understand.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe it’s because exhaustion is leaving me partially delirious. Or maybe it’s the weird feeling in my chest that I can’t quite place. That I don’t want to place. “Okay.” I shift carefully. “If for no other reason then to prove you wrong.”

Never did I think I’d end up in the position of sitting in my bed, book in hand, with Kaz Brekker sitting next to me. But here we are. I’m so tired, I almost let out a nervous laugh when he first walked in. So brooding and tall, gripping the head of his head cane as he sits at the foot of my bed, on my pastel quilt.

I’m glad for the excuse to keep my gaze away from him and on the words in front of me. I read out loud, feeling more and more comfortable with each page I finish. But as my inhibitions slip away, so dos my hold on consciousness. My eyelids seem to grow heavier with each word that I read.

“You’re falling asleep.”

I straighten my spine on instinct. “Am not.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to deny something so simple.

“You’re impossible.”

From him, that statement is laugh worthy. “I’m impossible? Do you not remember earlier today?”

From the way his jaw locks, I realize that he’s in no mood to be light about this topic. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’m the one that wronged him. “I remember your lack of focus.”

Keeping my hands at my side to avoid rubbing my eyes, I frown. “If you want to have this argument again, fine. Jesper is more ‘distracted’ than me half the time and you’re much more lenient on him. It’s not like I was flirting with someone or gambling or doing anything but having a two second conversation. One that I needed to have to get information that you wanted.”

The last time we fought, I had more energy to restrain myself. This could be atomic. I hold my breath, waiting for Kaz’s retaliation. He exhales, eyes not meeting mine. “Arguing with you when you’re present is exhausting enough. It’s not worth it when you’re half asleep.”

This angers me further. I hate that he’s right. “I’m not half asleep.” He leaves it at that. I glare even harder at him, slumping further into my bed. “But for the sake of argument, I’ll drop it. Something you’re incapable of doing.”

At that, his eyes meet mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the harder I think about not seeming tired the more exhaustion slips in. A yawn escapes me before he looks away. Great. “I know when to lie in the grass in wait.��

Rolling my eyes, I shift back slightly. He’s incapable of being less dramatic than this. Still, I can’t imagine the effort it’s taking on his part to not start an argument. Maybe this is why Jesper spent so long implying that there may be a Kaz and I in any capacity beyond a vague kind of friendship. “I’ll admit you’re tactful.”

“Resourceful people recognize that trait in other people.”

Blinking twice, I lower my book slightly. Am I truly exhausted, or did he just compliment me in a way? “Careful, I may start to think you find me tolerable.”

“Let’s not exaggerate.” Okay, now I know I’m exhausted because I think he might have just attempted a joke. Rolling my eyes, I decide not to acknowledge this lightness in fear that I’ll scare it away. “Y/n?”

I press my lips together, worried about the destruction of our peace. “Yes?”

“What did Jesper say to you? Earlier?” I pause, slightly unsure why we’re moving backwards.

We’re in a decent place now, and I’d hate to ruin it. I’m too half asleep to lie eloquently. And it’s not like he’s an easily convinced man. “Oh, he said it so cryptically it took me longer than it should have to understand. And it didn’t help that it was something so...well, you might find it funny. As funny as you find anything, anyways.” Wow...I’ve spent such a long time talking. Rubbing the back of my eyes, I avoid his gaze. Exhaustion and awkwardness mix in my stomach oddly. “It seemed like he was trying to imply that you and I...me and you...” Why is this a difficult thing to say? It’s not like I was implying it and Jesper’s known for his oddness. “I think Jesper was implying that there was a you and I, or at least that there could be.” I’m too lost in a haze of almost sleep to watch his reaction. I let my head rest against my headboard even further. “Isn’t that odd?”

He’s quiet for a long second, and then he finally speaks again. “Odd, even for Jesper.” The response doesn’t satiate me...what’s that about? I exhale, deciding that feeling is tomorrow’s problem. When I blink, I decide to let my eyes stay closed. Just for a moment. The sound of something shifting is what makes my eyes squint open. Kaz is standing, his expression unreadable as he straightens. “Goodnight, y/n.”

At that, I sit up slightly, ignoring the exhaustion behind my eyes. “I haven’t finished the chapter.”

“You’ve convinced me of enough.” A concession? How exhausted do I seem? My lips press together as I think of my next argument. Before I can get it out, Kaz leans forward. He grabs the quilt at the end of my bed and tosses it onto my legs casually. “Goodnight, y/n.” The meaning of his repetition is clear. His word is final.

I find enough energy to manage a glare, but I pull the quilt over my legs anyways. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone imagines #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows show #shadow and bone show #six of crows netflix

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helloprettybb · 3 years

Text

slip of the tongue

i love bucky with all my heart. that’s it.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

description: bucky doesn’t really like you. but a night alone and a stab wound may change his opinion.

warnings: violence, bad description of action scene, heated kissing??? not smut but implied

word count: 1.9k

Bucky hates you. It isn’t difficult seeing as you’re Stark’s daughter and every quality in the man is tenfold in you. You’re crazy smart and you aren’t afraid to show it. Perhaps your worst attribute is your arrogance since it’s justified most of the time. Bucky hates how you’re always right and the stupid smirk on your face when you outwit or outtalk someone.

He knows you can tell and that’s the worst part. It seems you do everything in your power to irk him even more. Like trying to talk to him every time he enters the room or asking for every excruciating detail for any minor event. You get on his nerves and nothing could change that.

The team left for a mission this morning so it’s just you and Bucky at the Compound. After doing nothing all day, Bucky decides to go for an afternoon run. He doesn’t listen to music, as he enjoys the sounds of the city between the mindless chatter and the speeding cars, it reminds him of his youth.

Towards the end of his run, Bucky starts toward the Compound when his ears pick up a yell. Going towards the noise, he spots three men assaulting a woman. She tries her best to hold them off, but she is greatly outnumbered and outmatched by the three, burly men.

Bucky springs into action and grabs the man whose hands are around the woman’s throat. Yanking him off easily, Bucky shoves the man to the ground with a force that was probably harder than necessary, but he doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse as he moves his attention to the two other attackers. He grabs the second man, who is slightly shorter than the first and punches him square in the jaw. He releases the woman and stumbles back. The third man lands a few punches on him, but they barely phase Bucky. While fighting off the last man, Bucky doesn’t notice the first guy get up. He also fails to notice the shiny knife in his hand before it’s too late. The man stabs Bucky in the side. Now Bucky’s pissed as he pushes the third man into the wall. He turns toward the man with the knife and knocks him out cold.

He looks around and realizes the woman must have run away. “Good.” he thinks, but only for a minute as he remembers that he got fucking stabbed. He groans as he applies pressure to the wound.

Bucky makes it back to the Compound, but the pain is getting worse. Stumbling inside, he heads for the labs to look for a medkit. But of course, since it’s his lucky day, you’re there, too. You’re probably finishing the project that you were talking about for the past few weeks - something about particles accelerating, but Bucky didn’t care enough to ask. He hopes he can slip by unnoticed, but the gaping hole in his side draws attention to him.

Your head snaps up from your work and you see Bucky hobble by. “Heya Buck,” you start in your usual playful manner. But when you look at the state he’s in, your attitude changes immediately, “What the fuck happened?”

“It’s nothing.” he grumbles. You look down and see that he’s holding his side. His sweatshirt and fingers are covered in blood.

“Bullshit.” you say. Moving around the lab, you quickly find the medkit. “Sit down.”

“I don’t need your-”

“Shut up and sit down.” you interrupt. Bucky’s protests stop as he sits down on one of the stools. You pull up a chair and open the kit.

“Y’know this will probably heal by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but it can’t heal if you bleed to death.” you retort. While the injury most likely won’t kill him, your point still stands. “Can I?” you motion to his hand. He removes his hand and you quickly pull his sweatshirt up to treat the wound. Luckily it’s a shallow stab wound and the gauze you put on is enough to stop him from bleeding out. As you continue to apply the gauze, you have to force yourself to not get distracted by his defined abs and focus all your attention on the wound. Your fingers trace over his stomach and he jumps slightly.

“Sorry,” you mutter. Your hands must be freezing from being down in the lab for so long. Once you finish applying the gauze, you say, “There, all done.” You look up at Bucky and are unable to read his expression. It causes you both to fall into an awkward silence. “So,” you say to clear the air, “How’d this happen?”

“Some guys were attacking this woman. Didn’t know one of them had a knife.” He responds gruffly. You nod in understanding.

You finish patching him up and say, “If you need anything like extra bandages or a beer, just come to me.” Bucky simply nods, unsure what to make of that proposition. He begins to leave awkwardly and almost makes it out of the lab before something in him makes him turn back.

He pops his head in and says, “You said something about beer?”

Bucky doesn’t know what time it is and he doesn’t care. He’s on his fourth beer, but he can’t get drunk so it doesn’t really matter. It’s funny because one beer turned into two and then three and now he’s found himself in a full-on conversation with you. And the most surprising part is that it’s delightful.

Behind your arrogance and quick judgments, you’re really funny. He knew you were smart, that wasn’t a surprise, but talking to you more changed his opinion of you.

“So, Buck.” Usually, that nickname didn’t get to him but a healing stab wound and a couple of beers will change anyone’s perception.

“What?” he asks.

“Got any lucky girl?” He scoffs at that and you look shocked. “What? It was simply a question.”

“It wasn’t the question, doll.” Since when did he call you doll? Just a slip of the tongue, he supposes. “It was the fact that I’d even have someone.” he says honestly.

“What do you mean? You’re a good-looking guy, just over one hundred. Any girl would be lucky to have you.” Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs. Damn, you’re growing on him.

“I’m serious!” you exclaim. Your left arm is on the couch and your hand is leaning against your hand. He realizes this is the closest you’ve been besides before when you were tending to his stab wound. “You’re a catch, Buck. What stops all the ladies from falling all over you?”

He rolls his eyes at you again whether at your persistence or wording. “I’m a bad guy, doll.” There it is again.

“That’s not true,” you scoff. Taking a sip from your beer, you casually add, “Besides, I’ve always had a thing for the bad ones,” Bucky raises an eyebrow at that. “Come on, Buck. I’ve liked you for a pretty long time. I thought I made it quite obvious.”

“By annoying the hell outta me?” He jokes.

“Hey, I was just trying to talk to you. Although I know I can come across as….”

“Annoying.” he says back. You give him a look that makes him laugh and soon a smile spreads across your face.

“I actually do care about you. But, I know you don’t feel the same way, so I’m happy just being friends.” Bucky thinks it over for a moment. Just this morning he was thinking about how you bothered the hell out of him. Actually, the more that he thinks about it, he realizes that he never really hated you. Did Bucky like you all along? He’s about to reply when the elevator doors open.

“Oh, you’re back?” you turn to greet the team.

“Hey, what are you doing up so late with Bucky?” Your dad eyes the two of you suspiciously.

You catch onto what he’s implying and assure him, “We’re just hanging out. In fact, I was just heading to my room. See you tomorrow.” You say a quick goodbye and leave before anyone could say anything.

They all turn to Bucky, ready to attack him with questions. “I’m going to head up, too.” Bucky quickly exits. He catches up to you, although he definitely didn’t mean to. Curse his long legs.

“Oh, hey,” you say as he enters the sleeping quarters.

“Hey,” he says. Fuck it, mind as well try it. “So, about the friend thing.”

You wince, “You don’t want to be friends.” You seem a little hurt by it, “I get it, you don’t really like me. It’s not like I can force you, too. And especially after I basically confessed to liking you as more than a friend, I could see how a potential friendship wouldn’t sound too appealing.” You’ve never looked this uneasy. He’s used to seeing you so confident and assured, but this was new.

Bucky lets you finish rambling before he replies, “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little, finally shutting you up. He moves closer, but you stay still. You both can tell what’s about to happen, yet neither is making a motion to stop it.

“I like you. As more than a friend.” You look like you’re trying to play it cool and contain your excitement, but Bucky sees you bite your lip like you’re trying to stop your smile from spreading.

“So…” You start like you’re thinking long and hard about what you’re about to say, “Can I kiss you?” You’re adorable. Bucky takes one last step and pulls you into a kiss.

Your lips are soft against his. Beyond the taste of beer, Bucky picks up some… he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip… cherry lipgloss. He’ll never get sick of the taste of cherries. He thought it’d be a sweet, innocent kiss but when you grab at his back, trying to hold him as close as possible, he knows it’s anything but. You kiss him hungrily as if your life depends on it and Bucky eagerly accepts. He muffles your moans and gasps and thinks about how nice those sounds will be echoed in his bedroom.

Bucky moves you so that your back is against the wall. You moan as his hands trail down your sides and onto your ass. His hands go under your thighs and you jump so that you can wrap your legs around his waist. Bucky catches you and pins you between himself and the wall.

Your hands go up to his hair and play with a few strands before pulling lightly. He groans at that, separating from your lips and throwing his head back. With his neck exposed, you trail kisses up and down his throat. Sucking and biting occasionally and making Bucky go crazy.

Two can play at that game, he thinks. He reconnects your lips to kiss you again and starts grinding his hips into you. Your hands go to his back and start scratching against his shirt.

Before this could go any further, Bucky pulls away and asks, “My room?”

And you smile, “Fuck yeah.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagines

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tarosin · 3 years

Text

the great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo wilbur and phil - i’ve got a (paintball) gun

this is part 12 to the great adventures series

an: ranboo was possibly in the Uk at this point however I don’t know when this vlog was actually recorded so I’ve decided that he’s still in the us at this moment in time i also didn’t proof read

tubbo stood near you occasionally shooting you with a nerf gun whilst you were filming a cooking video making it rather hard to focus

“you alright there Tubb-ow that fucking hurt”

“let me be in the video”

you rolled your eyes before moving to the side so tubbo could be in frame, earlier on you both went to a butterfly house and since the pair of you would have to get a train tomorrow to go record a vlog with Tommy it made more sense for him to stay at yours for the night. it took a lot longer than expected to film the cooking video as tubbo absolutely destroyed the plan you had for the video after he found out what you were making

“Surely not. you have pizza in the fridge let’s cook that instead”

“tubbo no fans voted on what is make and they chose something from the great depression cookbook it’s not my fault…heh how do you know about the pizza I got it yesterday”

“I made myself feel at home”

eventually, the pair of you finished the recipe unsurprising food from the great depression didn’t taste great so you put it in the bin whilst tubbo put the pizza in the oven. the rest of the night was surprisingly chill compared to earlier on when filming (probably because after you both had eaten you were exhausted and had a long day ahead of you) the pair of you created a song together which would never see the light of day as it was a mess but nonetheless it was a memory you would never forget, you asked your parents to take some pictures of you both so you could add them to your scrapbook you ended the night by teaching tubbo how to create a scrapbook.

at 8 am your alarm went off at 8:30 you made it to the train station a few hours later you finally arrived at your destination

“what are we doing today tubs”

“I have no idea but tommys over there with Phil and will”

tubbo dragged you over to the three of them where you were met with Tommy holding a paintball gun whilst yelling that he has a gun and that it’s ‘gun time’ tubbo went to go get the pair of you a paintball gun with the others whilst you offered to help Tommy continue the introduction

“y/n you’re going to be with tubbo and Phil sorry you can’t be on the winners team with me and will”

“oh no how will I ever survive, you seem rather confident that you’re going to win so let’s make I deal if I win I get to pick the next vlog if you win you can pick the next vlog for my channel”

“have fun facing your fears in your next vlog y/n as I’m going to win”

“sure thing tom however I never lose so have fun at the trampoline park”

tubbo ran up to you as you finished your sentence and handed you the gun that’s when you split off into two teams and made your way to start the game

“you both ready”

“I'm going to be shot several times the answer is no”

“I’ll protect you y/n”

you laughed shaking your head as much as you adored tubbo there’s no way he’d be the one protecting you in paintball you stood picking up rocks putting them in your pocket not realising the game had started until tubbo hit you with a paintball

“OI DICKHEAD THE GAMES STARTED”

“WERE ON THE SAME TEAM HAVE YOU CONSIDERED SHOUTING THAT THE GAME STARTED”

you ran straight to the bunker leaving tubbo and Phil behind simply because you had already been shot and it hurt like hell, you managed to hit Tommy a few times and occasionally was able to hit will. it didn’t take long for tubbo to catch up to you

“oh hello tubso”

“hi y/n. OW WHY DID YOU SHOOT ME”

“giving you a taste of your own medicine”

“I'm telling Phil”

tubbo found one of the grenades on the floor throwing it towards the hiding spot Tommy and will were in dragging you through the now colourful smoke which resulted in Tommy shooting you both with paintballs several times as will encouraged him to shoot wildly into the smoke

“phillllll tubbo used me as a human shield my body hurts where are they I’m getting revenge”

“tubbo…maybe don’t use y/n as a shield “

you stood with tubbo as Phil shot a paintball towards Tommy you assumed he hit him as you heard Tommy shout in pain and tubbo laughing next to you, you noticed as you continued walking to hide, tubbo was picking up the grenades putting them in his pocket

“I have rocks in my pocket tubs if I ever run out of paintballs I’m just going to throw the rocks it’ll probably hurt less too”

“y/n don’t encourage tubbo to throw rocks at people”

“quick over there we can team up against Tommy”

and that’s exactly what you and Phil did god knows where tubbo went however it did allow you to secure a win.

not long later the second round began however this time it was just you and Phil

“where the fuck is tubbo”

“I can’t believe they took tubbo he’s the best of us and they knew it”

“they took my tubbo I’m getting revenge also rude I’m pretty damn good with a gun”

you both ran to the next hiding spot creating a plan to get your best friend back and hopefully win the game, you ended up hearing tubbo shouting in the distance, you and Phil agreed you'd run first probably getting their attention and Phil would follow about a minute later

“hang tight tubso I’m coming for you”

the plan worked you successfully made your way to where tubbo was guaranteed you got hit with paintballs a lot but you also managed to get some good hits back as did Phil. as soon as Phil made the grenade go off you quickly climbed up the steps and made your way to tubbo whilst hitting the others with paintballs whilst Phil made his way up after you

“I ran out of paintballs tubbo can I borrow your gun”

“we surrender we surrender”

“Phil…y/n you saved me”

“I am in pain”

it was now time for the third round

“I've played capture the wool in hypixel don’t worry guys I’ve got this”

“y/n you lost every game”

“tubbo didn’t you get captured for the entirety of the last game…hmm”

“will you two stop and just run to the tower”

tubbo ran straight to the tower but you decided to ‘accidentally shoot tubbo’

“Y/N”

“SORRY I WAS UM JUST TESTING IF MY PAINTBALL GUN WORKED YOU JUST HAPPENED TO BE IN THE WAY”

once in the tower you and tubbo aimlessly shot at the others while Phil left to go capture Tommy and wills flag

“so tubbo how’s your day”

“not too great bossman I got captured, shot, betrayed by my so-called best friend”

“betrayed…you’re so dramatic”

“I'm leaving”

“I’m not defending the flag then”

you laughed as tubbo left the tower standing next to Phil coming up with a new plan

“tell me you didn’t leave y/n to defend the flag”

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU BOTH”

tubbo and Phil ran to attempt to capture their flag whilst you stood defending the flag, you put up a decent fight getting strong hits on Tommy however he was able to capture the flag before Phil or tubbo could capture their flag, you continued to hit Tommy several times as he ran back to his team’s tower, however, in the end, he was able to make it back scoring a win for his team

“don’t even think about blaming me you two”

it was now time for the final, you had one aim and one aim only…defend the briefcase

“oh these little shits”

you and tubbo looked at each other before nervously laughing you all had been shot enough and honestly you were all in pain you just wanted to win and get this over with.

“We have 10 minutes guys we’re fine”

“y/n I admire your optimism”

“I could be brutally honest and tell you both that we’re probably going to lose if we don’t come up with a plan”

and with that the three of you started creating a plan which wouldn’t be used as you were going to end up staying close to tubbo, you all started pretty strong you and tubbo stayed together the entire game giving the pair of you extra strength compared to the others as you worked together. you and tubbo left Phil to do his own thing mainly because you had forgotten the plan you created earlier.

“y/n here’s the new plan wherever I go you go and we have to defend each other”

“hey tubbo look I found a shield…you stay behind me and tell me where to go as I can cover us both”

you ended up losing that round but it doesn’t matter you had faith you would win the next round

“so all we have to do is defend the briefcase”

“y/n stay with me”

you and tubbo proved to be a great threat as tubbo would point to where either will or Tommy was and the pair of you would shoot at them whilst Phil would aim for the other person

“good shot Phil”

“thanks y/n”

you were all doing a pretty good job of defending the briefcase you would often whisper to tubbo that you were convinced they were about to surrender

“surely not”

“tubbo look at them they’re in pain they’re going to surrender I bet £10 and being the first to hug ranboo at the airport that they’ll surrender deal?”

“deal”

you all aimed at will scoring many hits practically encouraging them to surrender, Tommy eventually got wills gun and started aiming at you all mostly hitting you and Phil making tubbo laugh

“I hate you right now tubbo”

“sure thing bossman”

you noticed Tommy was in serious pain and started feeling bad for him however you pushed that feeling aside as you really wanted to win every bet you had made earlier so you continued to aim for your best friends

“YOU WIN”

you looked at Phil who was clearly proud of his team before looking at tubbo before tackling him into a hug

“we fucking won I told you they’d surrender you now owe me £10”

“I'll give it to you when we go to pick up ranboo”

after putting everything away you made your way to Tommy to check that he was okay

“you okay Tommy? you did great, that was a pretty smart tactic during capture the flag”

Tommy pulled you into a side hug as he thanked you before congratulating you on your win

“you and tubbo best make your way to the train station before you miss the train, call me when you're at tubbos”

“will do see you soon!!”

“see you after you’ve finished isolating”

“…heh”

tubbo walked over to you both laughing as he noticed everyone but you knew what was happening from tomorrow

“your parents dropped off a bag of clothes etc at mine so we can just get the train straight to my house we should probably sleep earlier as we have to get up ridiculously early tomorrow to pick ranboo up from the airport”

time flew by rather quickly as before you knew it you were sat on a bench with tubbo waiting to meet ranboo

“tubbo ranboo just sent me a text he's here”

taglist:

@fuzzycloudsz @wtfwriter @bearytime @milkydisaster @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Lying (Next) To You (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for violence + language Warnings: Blood-drinking/general vampiric shenanigans Summary: There is no goal other than escape. You want out of this castle, no matter what you have to do, no matter the consequences. At first, the solution seems to lie with one of the very women you want to get away from. But what happens when you find yourself genuinely caring for her? Length: 5,934 words

Merely surviving had never been your intention. From day one in this foul place, this unholy castle, you had strived to escape. No matter what, you refused to allow such dismal grounds to be your grave. But leaving wouldn’t be as simple as walking out an unlocked door. It required manipulation, agility, and the willingness to screw over anyone who got in your way. Even those who you would have once called friends, or the closest thing you had to that among the servants. Was that something you were willing to do? Absolutely, without a shred of doubt in your mind. Someday, somehow, regardless of what it took, you’d get out and never look back. For now, though, all you can do is scheme…

—————————

Three targets, each incredibly difficult to get your hands on, each presenting their own unique challenges. Which would be easiest to charm? You were still debating that answer.

First was Bela: The eldest, most responsible, forced to be the “role model�� for her sisters. A bookworm (a trait the two of you shared) who spent a fair amount of her freetime in the library. While not overtly cruel, she was still rather violent, especially in cases where she felt her family had been insulted. However, there were whispers that she had a secret weakness: Anxiety. None had caught her in the open throes of an attack and lived to tell the tale. But she had been overheard, more than once, quiet cries or shaking breaths. Trying to talk to her during one of these occasions could lead to gaining her affection- if you managed to do what no other had been capable of doing, that is.

Second was Daniela: The youngest, most excitable, eager to please and desperate to be pleased. Easily interacted with more maidens than either of her sisters, though not always in a good way. Getting her attention could mean getting pulled into her room in the middle of the night, for some “fun”, or it could mean getting drained of all of your blood. Sometimes she did one after the other. Like Bela, she was a bookworm, though she preferred romance novels as opposed to her older sister’s educational texts. As for her weakness? To you, Daniela seemed to be the definition of “undiagnosed ADHD”. Less exploitable for sympathy than her sister, but possibly useful in helping you trick her. At the end of the day, the largest concern with her was her inconsistent behavior, her tendency to flip moods at the drop of a hat- and a drop of the hat with her could feel a helluva lot like a drop of an axe (onto your neck).

Then came the third… the one you didn’t think was worth the risk, whatsoever: Cassandra. Middle child and acting just like it, she was hungry for her mother’s approval, attention, and respect most of all. Bloodthirsty as could be, with a mean streak eight kilometers wide, the truest monster you had ever met. Even her fondness for the arts manifested in malevolent ways. Supposedly, she painted in blood, and made sculptures from the bones of her victims, displayed proudly in her room as trophies. What could you possibly do to earn her affection? What could you ever be to her, other than a plaything or mid-afternoon snack?... Nothing, you assumed, and so you figured you might as well remove her from your list. Somehow you’d have to make do with one of her sisters. As for which one?... You decided to let fate decide, and go for whomever you found yourself with an opportunity to court.

—————————

Free time was a rare commodity in Castle Dimitrescu. While every servant did technically get one day off every week, it wasn’t uncommon to end up helping with something unexpected, even if one tried to hide away in the private quarters. For you, it was an opportune time to try and get closer to your targets. So far three weeks had passed since your “decision” to focus on Bela and Daniela, without a single interaction with either of them. Still, hope held fast in your chest, as you made haste towards the library. On this free day you intended to read as much as possible. ‘Twas a two-pronged goal: First, you would increase your chances of running into one of your preferred employers. Secondly, you could possibly learn something through what content you consumed, perhaps to be utilized in later conversations.

Or such was the hope. In truth, you did not make it to the library, nor even anywhere close. A quarter of the way there you were interrupted by an ever-dreaded noise; buzzing echoed throughout the hallway, first far off, but getting closer with every second. There was a particular ferocity to the vibrations that you knew meant danger was approaching. According to the other maidens, this was a distinction that everyone learned over time, assuming that they survived long enough. The smart thing would have been to duck away into an adjacent room in the hopes that whatever sister it was would ignore you. But your endgame weighed heavy on your mind, then forced your feet to the floor. For better or worse, you would be in the woman’s path, ready for whatever she may ask of you.

“You-” a voice snarled, as a hooded figure phased out of the swarm and into your vision. Her head was held high, eyes narrowed as they stared down at you, a snarl twisting her lips. Of course it was her. Cassandra Dimitrescu. The one daughter you didn’t want to encounter. Inside, part of you writhes in self deprecation, feeling as if you should have known better. How often did the other two buzz about so angrily?... Well, certainly a fair bit, but nowhere near as much as Cassandra. Fuck, you think, I’m probably doomed. “I’m hungry. Come here real quick,” Cassandra demands, beckoning you towards her with a single finger. In another life you would have blushed bright red at the sight. A life where she wasn’t a vampiric monster, that is.

Nonetheless, you are quick to obey, masking your anxiety as best as you can. Doing so gets much harder once your gaze meets Cassandra’s, and you see her lick her lips before smirking at you. As soon as you’re within her reach, she’s surging forward, grabbing you by your shoulders, then pivoting, pressing you hard against the wall. You can’t help but gasp at the sudden movements, which only widens her grin. Before you know it she’s running her tongue along your neck. Once more you gasp, this time softer, hating the way your body urges you to lean into her touch. Why couldn’t she simply get straight to the worst of it? Instead she takes her sweet time, slipping a finger beneath the collar of your shirt, slowly, carefully tugging it to the side. When she finally bites, it is terribly sudden. The pleasure comes before the pain, stronger than you would have expected, eliciting a sharp inhale from you that sounds more satisfied than you had intended. Even as a rush of pain follows, you can’t help the red that tints your cheeks.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” Cassandra asks, after licking away at your blood for a few moments, pulling back but not releasing you. Something in her eyes makes you need to respond.

“Y-yes, more than I’d like to admit,” you mumble, barely able to make eye contact. But she seems pleased by this, gently cupping your chin while she looks you over.

“Well then, if you survive… I might just have to drink from you again,” she whispers, before diving right back in towards your neck. This time her touch is far, far softer than before. It feels more like she’s kissing you rather than drinking from you. A strange, irritatingly familiar feeling springs in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t help but make more of those noises she seemed to enjoy so much. Hell, your eyes drift closed as you take in the surprisingly welcome sensation. When they reopen, however, you give a yelp of surprise, spotting a very awkwardly waiting servant. They were blushing, clearly not having expected to come upon this particular sight. Cassandra perks up at your shock, turning to follow your gaze, then giving an uncharacteristically resigned groan. “Damn it, Ava, is it urgent?” She asks, to which the servant gives a silent shrug. “I’ll be done in a minute. Now, where were we?”

Once more she resumes feeding, casting aside all traces of sweetness, sucking on your wound with reckless abandon. Behind her, Ava gives you a thumbs up before turning away. As embarrassing as the moment felt, you were grateful to xer, glad that xe seemed to recognize your desire for privacy. More than that… if xe hadn’t come along, would Cassandra have remembered to stop before your bloodloss became fatal? There was no guarantee either way. Yet xer intervention felt like a godsend, and you made a mental note to thank xer later. Soon enough Cassandra removes herself from you, pausing only to cup your chin for a moment, meeting your gaze with a smirk. Then she was turning away without another word, following Ava to some unknown destination.

A deep breath, then another, more frantic, the familiar sense of panic growing on the edges of your mind. Now that the feeding was over, you were left trembling with all the fear you had been so adamant about not showing before. How close to death had you come? How close were you now? Only feeling slightly more faint than you had earlier, it felt safe enough to assume you would be fine, if only physically. Inside your mind you were struggling with racing thought after racing thought. How the hell am I supposed to do this with either Bela or Daniela? You think, trying to breathe past the lump in your throat. And why did I have to enjoy that so much? They’re nothing more than means to an end, monsters undeserving of my kindness, of my joy. Your only comfort was the knowledge that this may very well have been the opportunity you had been waiting for; but only if you could shift your aim.

—————————

The difference was subtle, almost microscopic, to the point where it took you a full week to notice. But once you had? Everything felt different. You couldn’t spend more than three seconds in the same room as Cassandra without her eyes following you, watching your every move, sending a rush of both fear and excitement down your spine. Meeting her gaze only made her give the tiniest fraction of a smile. As soon as something (or someone) else caught her attention, however, you were forgotten in the blink of an eye. Yet it was nerve wracking nonetheless. This was roughly what you had hoped for, but you had underestimated the mental toll it would take on you. There was no way to tell whether Cassandra wanted violence, something softer, or her usual brand- a cruel mixture of both. Every second spent in her presence was a roll of the dice, a flip of a coin, either one weighted to put the odds against you.

But you persisted. Escape was not a dream, nor a fantasy, nor some far off cryptid. It was inevitable. Again and again you would swallow your fear until you reached your long-sought destination. No matter the cost, you think, no matter the consequences. Over time, that cost, those consequences, would grow. For now, it was a slice of your sanity. Next? More blood, it seemed.

“Casserole wants you to stop by her art studio,” the note said, cursive hand-writing ever-so-fancy and ever-so-difficult to read. Clearly from Ava, the mildly mysterious (but incredibly helpful) castle servant known for never speaking a word. From what you had gathered, xe was a confidant of sorts for the Dimitrescu family, trusted far more than the average worker. Alas, xe was loyal to the center of xer being, and was rumored to be impeccable at preventing escape attempts before they had even started. If you wanted out of this damn place, you knew you’d have to be careful around xer. Hopefully xe won’t interrupt this time, you think, before tucking the note away in your pocket.

Cassandra’s infamous studio wasn’t terribly far from your quarters, thankfully, though you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to arrive at a specific time. What if she wasn’t expecting you until later? Worse, what if she had been expecting you an hour ago? It’s a dangerous thought, one that could easily spiral into something far more drastic, and you try to reassure yourself, reminding yourself that Ava would have mentioned a time if it was important. In the end, you still found your heart racing as you stood outside the room in question. Pausing to take a deep breath, you center yourself, before raising a hand to knock. To your surprise, you get an answer before your hand even gets close to the door.

“Come in already,” Cassandra chimes from inside. Unsure of what terrible fate you were about to meet, you entered the room, somewhat reluctantly. Despite the myriad of unsavory rumors regarding the studio, there were no immediate signs of brutality. At the worst, the space was fairly messy, though not due to any, ahem, “misplaced” body parts. No, just an overflowing garbage bin, a few unfinished projects placed haphazardly wherever they’d fit, shards of glass in one corner, and tile floor splattered with a Pollock-esque layer of paint. In one word? Chaotic. Such was the type of environment that seemed to suit Cassandra best, the sort in which you imagined she would thrive. But you didn’t have time to examine anything as closely as you would have liked to. “Are you going to keep me waiting?”

“No, Lady Cassandra,” you reply, hurriedly, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. Then you’re quickly crossing the room, to what looks like a cross between a storage cabinet and a paint mixing station. In Cassandra’s hands, however, you find something less welcoming than a paintbrush: A needle and an empty blood bag. Well, you think, I guess I know why I’m here. At least there’s only one bag, right? “What do you require of me, my Lady?” While the answer was fairly obvious, you didn’t know the specific steps necessary, and it never hurt to be as polite as possible with the Dimitrescu family.

“Just sit down, roll your sleeves up, look pretty, and stay still. Try not to make any noises this time- as cute as they were last time, I have a headache,” Cassandra explains, gesturing towards the room’s only chair. Ignoring the way your cheeks heated up, you did as she asked, trying to get relatively comfortable. It was somewhat difficult to relax, considering who you were with. “Calm down, pet, I’m only going to hurt you a little. That’s more than I can say for most people who end up here.” Why did she have to use a nickname for you? Weren’t you already flushed enough without her teasing you further? Though your flustering does turn to confusion after a moment, as you wonder how she knew how afraid you were. You were under the impression that you were hiding it fairly well. Noticing your reaction, Cassandra rolls her eyes, before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I can hear your heartbeat. Normally I’d find this… exciting. But my head hurts and I wanted to finish this damn painting yesterday. So take a deep breath, little pet, and let me take what I need from you.”

Of course she had to say it like that, and put herself so close to you. You’re pretty sure that your heart skips a few beats in response, though Cassandra doesn’t react beyond a hint of a smile, merely returning to her prep work. First step was cleaning your skin. Admittedly you hadn’t been sure if that step was necessary, seeing as the blood was (seemingly) for art as opposed to testing, but it didn��t exactly surprise you. Besides, there was a chance she’d drink the leftovers, right? Next she double-checked that the needle was properly connected to the blood bag, and that the latter was resting securely on a small stand. With that out of the way, it was time for her favorite part.

“Since your heartbeat has slowed down a little… I’ll let you whimper if you want to- but only once. Consider it a reward for good behavior,” Cassandra purrs with a familiar grin. One hand gently cups your chin, while her eyes look right in yours, just long enough to turn your cheeks bright red. The moment ends as quickly as it started. Before you know it she’s turned stoic again, feeling along your arm for a vein. This isn’t the first time you’ve had your blood drawn, but Cassandra takes no time at all to find the perfect spot, likely from a mix of practice and, well, her vampiric nature. It’s not long before she’s gently gripping your arm with one hand, briefly making eye contact before pushing the needle into your skin. Does it hurt? Hardly. Do you take a shaky inhale, hoping to please your employer, the closest to a whimper you were willing to give her? Oh, absolutely. And does she react? Oh, absolutely. Her eyes light up for a second as she bites her lower lip. There’s something else in her expression that you can’t quite read, however.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” You ask, smiling, voice soft in the hopes of not aggravating her headache. It’s a risk, and one that pays off more than you’d ever expect. Cassandra giggles a tad, eying you with the least mischievous smile you’ve ever seen from her. If not for the needle still in your arm, you might have found the moment charming, or even… romantic. But you pushed the thought away as soon as possible, reminding yourself of your one true goal: Escaping. This was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself. Even as Cassandra ever-so-gently removed the needle from your arm, even as she carefully placed a bandage over the entry-point, even as she gave you a nod of approval.

“This should last until the painting is done, at the very least. I might need you to make another ‘donation’ next week, though. Except, hmm… your blood is quite nice,” Cassandra says. Her tone is smooth, almost sultry, but her gaze is focused on her work as she starts mixing the blood with… something? You weren’t familiar with this particular artistic process, nor did you want to be. “Maybe I’ll set up a nice schedule for you. Once a month you can be my darling little muse, and once a month you can be a refreshing snack. I’ll even make sure that my sisters don’t do anything that might spoil our fun. Assuming you continue to prove entertaining, that is.” You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. In the end you settled for the former, chest thrumming with excitement as you felt yourself getting one step closer to your goal.

—————————

Three months pass by in an easy blur. Just as Cassandra had suggested, you find yourself in her company more often than before. Only twice a month does she take blood from you, for your own safety (which she pretends not to care about), but more and more you find her lounging around where you’re working, obviously by “pure coincidence”. Sometimes she even spoke to you! Teasing here and there, or asking you to do things that she normally did for herself, or scaring you just to hear you make one of your “lovely noises”. Honestly, you weren’t sure whether you were more surprised by how attached she had gotten to you, or by how quickly it had happened. Of course, you didn’t even know if she enjoyed your personality… or just your blood. Either way, you found yourself enjoying her presence more than you’d ever openly admit.

Eventually, when the benefits of your budding “friendship” became more clear, you started to enjoy it even more.

It was early in the morning, right when the castle residents tended to go to sleep, and when the night shift officially ended. Minutes prior you had been conversing quietly with Cassandra, dusting some shelves as you did. Now, with your duties done only slightly later than usual, you were making your way back to your quarters. Along the way you were caught off guard by the sound of distant crying. ‘Twas a sound you’d heard many times before, from many different maidens, but this time felt… different. An odd feeling of sympathy sparked in your chest, and you made the brash decision to approach the source of the noise. When you rounded that last corner, when you made eye contact with the trembling figure, you knew that your kindness could very well be the death of you. To think that you had once hoped for this encounter.

“Who’s there?” Bela Dimitrescu snarls through chattering teeth. She’s moving forward, phasing in and out of swarm mode, reaching a hand out to clutch at your throat. Well, you think, at least she’s stopped crying? More so out of being distracted, instead of feeling any comfort from your company. It’s not a terribly reassuring thought, but it’s soon replaced with a mental string of ???? as Bela pauses, grip loosening as she holds you up in the light. “You’re Cassandra’s new favorite. Damnit!” With that she drops you rather unceremoniously. Then she’s turning her back to you, sniffling before wiping the tears from her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone about this, or I won’t hesitate to string you up, no matter what my sister says. Now get lost.”

Except you can’t force yourself to move. There’s a small piece of you that remembers your original plan, another small part feels a twinge of sympathy, and a majority of your brain sees this as an opportunity. What was a little more risk?

“Would you like me to bring you some tea, Lady Bela?” You ask, attempting to keep your tone neutral, lest she think you were judging her. In response, she turns to look at you slowly, eyes narrowed, thinly veiled rage only outweighed by the remnants of her anxiety. Then she’s stalking forward with cautious, deliberate movements. For a moment she searches your eyes for any hints at your motive. Hoping to ease her worries, you elaborated on your offer, and the reasoning behind it. “I’ve read that holding something warm in your hands, like a mug of tea or coffee, relaxes the brain. I believe it had something to do with mimicking human touch?... Forgive me if I’m overstepping your boundaries, my Lady. I… I felt compelled to ask, to help in whatever way I can.”

“Oh?” Bela hums, the majority of the anger draining from her face. There’s a hint of genuine surprise behind her bright eyes. “Very well, if you say it might… help.” Before you can turn to leave, you hear her clear her throat, and say one last thing. “A little softer than I would have expected from a pet of Cassandra’s.” She certainly had a point. But you don’t bother responding, instead focusing on your self-given task. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you were really Cassandra’s “pet”, or if there was more to your dynamic. Why did you feel so weird about the idea of being a mere “distraction” to her?... Something to think about while you made that tea, you supposed.

—————————

When you assisted with serving lunch the next day, Bela refused to make eye contact, even as you set a plate in front of her, or when you refilled her wine glass. There was a stiffness in the room that you weren’t familiar with. For the most part, Cassandra is more welcoming, giving you a small nod when you meet her gaze. By the time the family is done eating and moves to leave, the sisters are grouping together to speak in hushed voices. While you clean up after them, you cannot help but wonder if they’re discussing the previous night, or if Bela was as adamant about keeping quiet as she had seemed. Regardless, you felt rather good about how the conversation had gone. Hopefully she’s feeling better, you think, surprising yourself. Not that it matters… unless she tells Cassandra, I suppose.

You don’t see her for the rest of the day. It’s a double-edged sword, in a way. On one hand, you find yourself missing her, unused to not interacting with her at all. On the other hand? All the sudden you’re realizing just how involved she’s become with you. Certainly that meant something? Progress towards your eventual goal of escaping? God, you sure hoped so. Thinking about the future, about your plans, lasts you the entire night, thoughts following you all the way into bed. Sleep feels a million years away, and you find yourself staring silently at the ceiling. Unmoving. Damn near unblinking. When there’s the sound of footsteps outside your room, you are more than welcome for the distraction.

“Wake up, little pet,” a voice calls, as your door opens, and someone quickly slips inside. Before you can even sit up, you feel them slide into the bed with you. “It’s too cold in my room. You’re much warmer, aren’t you?” Clearly your darling Cassandra come to entertain herself. Considering how late in the day it is, you feel like you should be upset, and yet you feel yourself daring to wrap your arms around her. For a moment she goes stiff, but she soon relaxes into your touch. “You’re getting so good at knowing what I want from you. Mmm, I think I’ve trained you well,” she teases, shifting onto her back so she can pull you onto her chest. Although you’ve been this close to her before, this is the first time you’ve realized just how cold her skin is. No wonder she wants to sleep with me, you think, blushing at your unintentional wording.

“Fuck, you’re freezing,” you mumble, curling up against her nonetheless. She’s laughing then, without any hint of her usual malice, and you can’t help but laugh with her. When had the two of you gotten so warm with each other? Why did it feel so natural? There’s anxiety gnawing at the base of your skull, threatening to build up into a headache, tugging you away from the softness of the moment. If Cassandra notices, she’s quicker to act than you would have expected. It feels safer to believe that her next actions are a coincidence. Feels… better, when you remember that you are playing her for cheap, that any friendliness is a mockery made for the most bitter of betrayals to come.

“That’s why I’m here, dear. Now hush, I need some rest. With how comfortable you are… I may even let you sleep in,” she teases, before pressing the gentlest kiss to the top of your head. Your throat dries up in response, blush overtaking your cheeks, and you are left unable to speak. The thundering of your heart seems to somehow lull your would-be lover to sleep, while you find yourself growing to love the contrast her chill provides. Somehow, someway, you end up sleeping more soundly than you have in years.

—————————

Another month passes. No opportunities to escape, no grand moves to make in this 4D game of chess, no clever plans to entangle yourself in. Yet you find yourself content. Happy. The work keeps you as busy as ever, but Cassandra often steals you away for her own desires. When she goes to drink your blood, she does so gently, with many soft kisses leading into the big moment. Afterwards she cleans your wound herself, touches as light as a feather, eyes sparkling with unspoken affection. At night, you find her coming to you for warmth almost every day. At first she provides little more than teasing excuses. But in time, she becomes more open, even being so bold as to kiss you on the lips every time, greeting you with quiet “dear”s and “darling”s. It gets to the poin that you cannot sleep without her presence.

Day after day, you find it harder and harder to remember why you were doing this. Was it so bad to enjoy your time with her? Was it so bad to find yourself leaning into her touches, kissing her back, gleefully awaiting your nightly rendezvous with her? Sometimes the thoughts were overwhelming, guilt and shame alike dancing inside your chest. Those days were the hardest to get through. Somehow, again and again, you go to her for comfort. To the very source of your conflict. Every last feeling was driving you towards an inevitable point. A conclusion written in stone, one that had been decided from the very first time Cassandra dug her fangs into your neck.

—————————

Screaming. Horrible, horrible screaming, somehow more pained than that of any maiden you had ever heard, echoing throughout the castle halls, achingly familiar in tone. You had never heard her scream before, and yet you knew that the sound came from Cassandra. Before you can even begin to process your realization, you are thundering through the corridor, towards the noise that rattled your mind so desperately. How could anything possibly hurt her? How often had you seen her push her siblings around, each of them taking hits that could break bones as if they were light shoves? As if the punches tickled? Horror overtakes your thoughts, imagination far worse than reality had any right to be.

When you at last reach your lover, you are frozen in your tracks, eyes wide as can be. There she is, howling with both rage and pain as someone repeatedly slams the butt of a rifle into her head. Behind the fighting duo is a sight you never thought you’d see: An open door. Wide open, enticing, leading straight into the world you had sought to rejoin. You want to leave. God, you want to leave so bad. This is what you have been waiting for- Cassandra has not even seen you yet, too busy grappling with her attacker, movements too slow to be normal. What was wrong? Why were her limbs such a strange color? Was that… frost on her clothes? Or… crystal? Your gaze flickers back and forth between her and the exit, as time seems to pause, memories of the past few months racing through your mind. Goddamnit, you think, this is what I want, isn’t it? Consequences be damned, right? I said I wouldn’t stop for anything.

And so you move, automatically, on autopilot, unable to think about anything other than what you treasured most: Cassandra. One moment you’re standing still in the foyer, the next you’re grabbing a poker from the fireplace. You’ve never done anything like this before, but the movements come naturally, as you surge towards the scrambling pair. In one swift motion you drive the metal rod into the skull of the intruder, hating the sound, hating the splatter of blood against your clothes, hating the feeling of resistance followed by a terrible, terrible give. But the man slumps almost immediately, allowing your girlfriend to shove him off of herself. Still unable to think coherently, you’re throwing yourself into her arms.

“Holy shit, holy shit, oh my god, I- I, fuck. Are you…? Fucking tell me that you’re okay, please,” you ramble, holding the dangerously cold body of your girlfriend close to you, refusing to let go. She’s crying, clinging to you as desperately as you cling to her. But she’s responding in the affirmative. Over and over, saying she’s okay, telling you that it’s okay. Before you know it, she’s the one comforting you.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Okay? Look at me, take a deep breath. If anyone should be freaking out it’s me,” she says, pulling back enough to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s blood on her fingers, making your eyes go wide, but she quickly wipes it off with a scowl. Then she’s caressing your skin again, soft repeating motions perfect for calming you down. “That’s right, see? We’re fine. You’re a fucking badass, darling, and honestly? It’s very attractive.” Now you’re both giggling, you a bit more than her. Because of course she’s flirting right now. It’s an incredible softness. One that you, quite frankly, do not feel you deserve. At first it’s a tiny voice in the back of your head, but it soon grows until it strikes the smile from your lips. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Shit, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, really,” you interject, as fast as you can, ignoring the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra isn’t convinced, however, and gives you a pleading look. Knowing that you cannot resist her, you close your eyes, sighing, then admit your wretched truth. “The door. Cassandra, the door’s open. I… I came down the hallway and I saw the two of you and I saw the fucking door and I… I hesitated. I hesitated.” There’s a mighty tremble to your voice, teeth and lips shaking. In the moment, you cannot bring yourself to meet her gaze, eyes instead glued to the bloodstained floor. It’s so quiet that you swear you can hear your tears hitting the tile. The air around you is filled with a looming heartache, a shadow over the two of you, hungry for your tears. But the rage you anticipate from Cassandra never comes.

For fuck’s sake, she pulls you closer. She takes you in her arms, making you rest your head against her chest, one hand gently rubbing circles into your back. Shock makes you unable to do anything other than linger limply in her grip. Thankfully, she has more than enough words for the both of you.

“Of course you did. All you ever wanted was to escape, right? And all I ever wanted was to see how much fun I could get out of you before you betrayed us,” she admits, coolly, as if the words didn’t break both of your hearts. At first, you merely start crying harder, realizing that she had seen through you this whole time. Realizing that all of her softness had just been sharpness covered in sheep’s clothing. Except she’s not done talking. “Now look at us. Couple of idiots who caught feelings. So shut up, because we’re in this mess together, now, and I don’t intend to let you go, understood? You-” she pulls back, looking you right in the eyes- “are mine. Besides… you just killed for me. I think that more than makes up for any hesitance, yeah?” Before you know it you’re kissing her. You’re pressing yourself to her, smiling through your tears, forced to pause to laugh at yourself. How ridiculous had this whole affair been? How had you convinced yourself, for so long, that escape was all you had cared about?...

All this time you thought you wanted out. But at the end of the day… you just wanted to go home. How could you have guessed that you would have found a new home, here, in someone’s arms? Despite the surprise of it all… you couldn’t be happier.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #the soft to your sharp

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eartht137 · 3 years

Text

FOR THE BETTER

Hello and greetings to anyone that gets to read this. It is my first story. I wanted to try and see how this was received before continuing so please feel free to let me know how you like it. Please be easy on me it is my first one I am new to this, but I hope you like it. Its a bit slow right now but I swear the chapters will get going as we go along on this ride together. Okay *curvies* love ya! Enjoy!

Dark Clark Kent x (Black)!Plus Size Reader

SUMMARY: (I suck at them but here goes) After working miserable unfulfilling jobs, you decide to go back to school to pursue your dream in writing. You get the very handsome, very smart Mr. Kent as your English/Literature Professor. You've always stayed to yourself preferring to have your alone time and focus on your writing. Mr. Kent comes in to shake that way of thinking up and its all with your best interest at heart (well his best interest at heart){Cheesy, am I right?}

"For the weekend's assignment. Something very simple, almost high school level. Don't complicate it." Mr. Kent said dragging his feet to tell you all what the stupid assignment was.

"Get to the point." You thought out loud as you rested your head in your hand. He glared at you for moment before continuing. You felt your face flush, because-'no way he heard me' you thought.

"I want you all to write me a paper on...one thing you like about yourself and why." He rushed out. "I want you all to be as genuine as possible, if you're going to be journalists you have to capture your audience. If you can sell yourself, then you can sell a story. If you're a snooze fest......I honestly don't know what to tell you" He chuckled

Everyone groaned because why???

"Due next Monday on the dot. NO EXCEPTIONS!" He belted. "If you don't have your paper on Monday, you will stand up and give a 5 minute speech on said topic."

'What kind of teenage topic is this?' You thought.

"Don't give me lip guys, you signed up for this. I didn't make you do anything." He said pointing at all of you. "No complaining. Monday! Class dismissed." He announced causing everyone to scatter. You were just about out the door when he stopped you.

"Y/n, can you stay back for bit?"

"Yeah sure." You immediately got nervous. You weren't used to being singled out, you always managed to stay below the radar. You'd figured out ways to stay out of sight out of mind after always being criticized by your family, so getting asked to stay back wasn't a normal thing. You braced yourself for the "you can do better speech" and hoped it wouldn't take too long. You watched as the room emptied and he gathered his stuff.

"Come on, lets step into my office." He said leading the way with his hands full. "Have a seat." he said motioning to the chair in front of his desk. you sat feeling butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Literally everyone would've given anything to be where you were. Mr. Kent was almost mythical. You didn't know a day where you didn't think 'DAMN that man know he fine!' And you knew he knew it.

"Bet you think I'm gonna talk about your grades." he chuckled. "While I do require your improvement,"

'Require?' you thought hoping your face didn't covey your attitude.

"I wanted to talk about something else."

"O-kay?"

"I've notice, you're very um...to yourself, is everything-"

'Oh there it is.'

"Mr. Kent, please don't analyze me. I am a whole different breed of human. I don't do people."

"I'm sorry?" he asked tilting his head.

"I just value my alone time. You can't have that with people."

"You can still have space with other people in your life." he said shaking his head at you.

"I didn't say space, I said alone time, and that's not the same. That's still with people. Like, no." you said crossing you arms.

He stared at your for a second, the he began to laugh, and rub his eyes. "You really are something."

"Mm-hmm its true."

"I'm just saying its healthy to get out and socialize every once and awhile, not all the time, I mean-don't you get lonely sometimes?

"No, not really. I mean don't give me wrong I'm human. I get the urge to hang out, then I do, then I remember why I didn't want to do it in the first place." you said realizing you were almost ranting. He eyed you as if he didn't believe you.

"I tell you what, I know you say you're fine, but for my sanity, can we be friends? You know just someone to check on you, make sure you're okay? If-if you hate it by the end of the week then I'll let it go."

"Mr. Kent, no offense, but why do you care? I mean, you have your own life, I'm sure you got a nice family you should be there for, so like....I'm gonna need a it all to make sense."

"Its mean, don't get me wrong I enjoy solitude too, and its not because I don't like people," he chuckled, "but I know what its like to sometimes need someone I could just talk to when I really needed it most and not having it. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Its funny because it would always lead me home."

"Well that's the difference between you and me, there is no going back." you sighed. You contemplated it 'It couldn't hurt could it?' "Okay."

"Okay?"

"We can be friends." you resigned.

"Great!" he said clapping his hands together.

"Only til the end of the week." You said standing stretching. "So we good? Can I go?"

"Actually, what are you doing tonight? I mean, my ma is cooking dinner and-"

"Okay anything food related, I'm down." You cut him off.

"Good, well I'll pick you up at 6?"

"Yeah sure." You said trying to get away.

"Uh, Y/n?"

"Yes?" You asked sweetly.

"I'm going to need your address." He said knowing you knew he needed it.

You gave you your information and booked it out of there. You immediately went home and took a nap. The whole ordeal was a bit draining for you.

It was your phones constant vibrating that woke you out of a deep sleep. You let it ring a few more times before picking it up.

"What?" You groaned into the phone.

"Y/n are ready? I'm like 15 minutes away." Mr. Kent asked.

"Ready for what?"

"Food?"

"Food? Food! Oh shit!" You said jumping up remembering dinner plans. "I'll be ready when you get here." You said quickly hanging up and rushing to get ready. By the time you felt you looked decent enough, he called and told he was there. When you walked out to meet him, you saw his girlfriend was with him and you put on a small smile. 'Of course he has a girlfriend, why wouldn't he. Still a bummer though, oh well.' you thought to yourself as you walked toward them.

"Y/n this is Lois, Lois this is Y/n. Lois is one of the top editors at the Daily Planet." He bragged, and you immediately got nervous. You'd read her work and you'd give to be as good, even better at writing.

"It really is nice to meet you, Clark speaks very highly of you and your writing." she said smiling.

"Really? I mean writing is my passion, I'm aspiring to get at least in the door. I'm not an editor or professor, but I think I'm okay." You said realizing you were babbling on because of your anxiety.

"Be confident in your work. It shows when you really mean what you're writing about. It also shows when you're doubting yourself." She said smiling at you. You immediately liked her and hoped to get to know her for advice sometime. You all got in and they fell into easy chatter along the way. Every now and again they'd touch on a topic you'd find interesting or be excited about, and you'd really get into it, smiling and being expressive. You'd catch Clark staring at you, a bit shocked at how much you had to say after months of being so quiet, and you'd retreat like a turtle back into your shell. You tried to not enjoy being around them, but every now and again, you liked talking to people on your level. Every now and again, you'd get lost in the breeze of the night air. You'd look out and get lost looking at the stars and the moon out of the open window of the moving car. You get so lost you forgot the other two people in the car and you'd miss the glances Clark took at you through the rearview mirror. When you all arrived at his moms farm you practically gawked at all the land around. You driven by open field and corn fields, you'd never actually gotten to see it up close.

As you all got out, his mom stepped out and waved at you.

"Well, looks like we got extra family tonight." she said smiling. You immediately felt a bit awkward. "Oh dear don't be shy, any friend of Clark is family." She said pulling you into a big hug.

"Thank you for having me Mrs. Kent." You said smiling.

"No go on now you just call me Martha." she said smiling and leading you inside. "You two come along, you know the routine." She said waving Lois and Clark inside. Dinner was great, you even found yourself laughing out loud. It exhilarated you and scared you to have such a good time around other people. You almost, ALMOST, didn't want the night to end, but you missed your bed. As if reading your mind, Clark announced it was time to leave.

"Looks like someone is ready for bed." He chuckled.

"Yep, I miss my solitude." You said stretching. Clark shook his head at you.

"What?" You asked innocently.

You said your final farewells and got in the car heading home. The ride home was peaceful, there was a calm silence between you three and you smiled watching the love exchanges between the two. You could see how much he loved her and you could understand why, Lois was beautiful woman. Your mind jumped from reasons you weren't in a relationship, to the assignment Clark had given you for the weekend. One thing you like about yourself? That topic was always hard for you and you couldn't even begin to find the words to start. Over the years you'd tried hard to accept yourself, love yourself, and be who you were unapologetically, but the moment you got to the threshold of truly giving yourself a chance, all of the criticism, judgment, and years of being invalidated filled you with fear and dread and you'd go back to your shell and do what you did best. Stay in your own bubble. Tears stung your eyes as you tried to stomp down the voices of doubt and resentment, 'It's okay, I'm good, I do what I have to and I'm happy with it. I'm at peace.' you thought to yourself over and over.

"You okay?" Clarks deep voice full of concerned pulled you from your thoughts and you shook you head to bring yourself back to reality.

"Yeah, just trying to stay awake." you said avoiding his gaze. The ride continued in silence and you couldn't help but drift off. One moment you were letting the ride soothe you to sleep and the next you heard a voice cooing you to sleep.

"Shh shh shh it's okay" Clark whispered. You couldn't help but cover your eyes. You were in Clark's arms as he carried you to the apartment.

"Woah," you said trying to get out of his arms. He gently placed you on your feet like a flower.

"Hey, its okay, calm down." He said gently rubbing your arms.

"S-sorry, I've just never-"

"Had anyone carry you before." He said finishing your sentence. You shifted feeling a bit awkward.

"Well, thanks for dinner. Thanks Lois!" You waved at her before going to your door. "Goodnight." you said one last time as you got inside. During the weekend you were extremely restless and was finding it hard to concentrate long enough to work on your assignment. Even when you sat waiting for words to form in your mind you eventually got busy doing something different. The night before class, you had an idea pop in your head, and you decided to go for it. You just hoped it would all make sense, it was the only think your mind focused on.

#dark clark kent #x black reader #plus size reader #smut fic

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hwascripts · 3 years

Text

What Izuku would be like in a relationship: The positive traits, the toxic traits, his love language, my own personal headcanons and an overall conclusion

WC: unknown

TW// POTENTIAL SPOILERS, No smut but Izuku is aged up, Toxic traits aren’t necessarily toxic...more so just bad traits, Teeny tiny little bit of angst, I think that’s it!

Masterlist

Disclaimer: I am in no way claiming the following headcanons are true. You are 100% free to disagree with me but please DO NOT send me hateful comments or asks. I am simply writing what I think Deku would be like in a relationship

a/n: Just to let you know, your nickname for him is Zuku just so you don’t think I kept spelling his name wrong.

-Deku is literally the kindest soul ever and it makes me want to cry. He’d give you his umbrella if you ever forgot yours, he’d literally carry you to first aid if you ever injure yourself- this man will legitimately do everything for you

-He’s incredibly observant. If he catches you looking at a pretty ring then he’ll literally show up at your door days later with that very same ring in his hands

“I saw you looking at it a few days ago and I wanted to surprise you!”

“Zuku baby oh my god how much did you spend?!”

“You don’t need to worry about it sunshine”

I wholeheartedly believe Izuku would call you his sunshine or something along those lines

-I have this one headcanon of him drawing you all the time as an excuse to “observe you and your quirk” but it’s really just because he wants to admire the way you shine underneath the sun- and that’s how he came up with the name Sunshine for you

-Deku has a heart of gold oh my god, this guy cares so much about you it’s unreal. Imagine trying to hide the fact that you’ve been crying while on a phone call- mission failed because he heard your shaky voice and now he’s on your doorstep with your favourite hoodie of his and your favourite snacks

-His memory is insanely good, like it’s freaky how good it is. Like you mentioned to him ONCE that you liked a certain drink and now he pulls up to your dates with that drink all the time (not like I’d complain if Deku brought me my favourite drink)

-Just like Bakugou, Deku is incredibly smart and he literally always comes up with a solution. You could literally vent to him about a problem you’re having at work and he’s come up with at least 73 solutions within 6 hours

-He’s determined and hardworking. Again, he’s just like Bakugou in the sense that he’ll put his blood, sweat and tears into whatever he’s doing- no matter if it’s a serious high stake mission or something like planning your weekly date. The second he puts his mind to something, he makes sure to give it his all.

-Izuku is your own personal cheerleader, this dude will hype you up no matter what. Training after work? he’s cheering for you. You completed a really difficult task? you better believe he’s gonna pat you on the back for it.

-He’s very protective of you. Remember when the LOV attacked the training camp and he rushed to find Kota? yeah he’s 10x more protective of you.

-And it’s not because he thinks you’re weak and can’t defend yourself, it’s because he genuinely worries about you all the time and just wants to make sure your always safe

-He’s an inspirational person, he makes you hella motivated to do even the most boring chores around the house

-Deku isn’t afraid to show his emotions. Unlike Bakugou, he’s often seen showing his emotions. Deku said “toxic masculinity who?”. He definitely gives 0 fucks if someone sees him crying/upset because I feel like Pro-Hero Deku would stop the stupid mindset of “Hero’s can’t show their genuine emotions”

-Izuku is the type of person to analyze all his losses, figure out what he did wrong and then learn from it to make sure he doesn’t make the same mistake again. He’s the complete opposite of Bakugou who gets bitter over his losses due to his superiority complex.

-He’s so good at comforting you that it’s unbelievable. Deku gives the warmest hugs that make you feel so safe- you literally cannot change my mind about this

-You know those hugs where the other person lightly rubs your back and lightly sways side to side with you? Yeah those are the hugs that Deku gives (he’d definitely give you a sweet little kiss on the forehead/cheek)

“Sunshine come here, let me hold you while you let out all your frustrations. I’ve got you, nothing can hurt you while you’re here with me”

-Can you tell I want some comforting Izuku hugs? He wouldn’t let go of you until he put a smile back on your face and GAHH oh my god I need Izuku hugs

-As much as I hate to do this, it needs to be done 😔✊🏻

-Izuku is such an over thinker, this guy worries about EVERYTHING under the sun. Your eyes didnt crinkle when you smiled? he’ll think you’re upset with him. You gave him a side hug rather than a normal hug? he’ll think he did something wrong.

-He’s self aware that he overthinks things but he just can’t seem to stop his thoughts. No matter how many times you reassure him that you aren’t upset with him, he’s subconsciously thinking about how to make it up to you

-He constantly pushes himself past his limits. You guys saw how many times he’s broken his bones. Deku may be intelligent but when it comes to his own self he can be completely hopeless

-The amount of times you’ve scolded him while you clean up his scrapes and cuts is insane. He just sits on the toilet lid and bites his lip nervously while you wave your finger angrily at him

“Sunshine please, I said I was sorry and that it won’t happen again!”

“Zuku you and I both know that’s a damn lie, I’ve had to patch you up 3 times this week! When are you going to start being more considerate of your limits?”

-I’m sorry but I picture him being so nervous to initiate anything with you. This guy would be so fidgety just by THINKING about holding your hand

-And deep down he knows he’s being ridiculous because come on, you’re his S/O and he’s been dating you for years now- why does he still get shaken up just by holding your hand?

-At first you think it’s cute, he’s just being respectful of your boundaries- but as time goes on you kind of get a little annoyed because he always asks you a bunch of times if you’re okay with him being affectionate.

“Zuku...sweetheart you know you don’t need to ask me a million times if I want to cuddle, right? I love cuddling with you!”

*cue sweating* “I’ll keep that in mind, Sunshine”

-He eventually gets a lot more comfortable with affection...more often than not you wake up with him nuzzled into your side like a cat

(Side note PLEASE wake him up with a bunch of kisses, he’ll literally melt)

-He’s very insecure about his scars because they make him feel like he’s “ugly” and sometimes he doesn’t even want you to look at them

-Do me a favour and please kiss along his scars/ trace them with your fingers while you compliment him- he’ll start crying because the scars he thought made him ugly are now starting to look beautiful to him

-This isn’t necessarily a toxic trait, more like a bad habit. Whenever Izuku gets stressed he’ll train himself to the brink of exhaustion just so he can try to focus on something other than how stressed he is

-Again, not a toxic trait but a bad one...Deku puts everyone else before himself. Which isn’t a bad thing if it’s done in a healthy amount, but Izuku goes to the extreme. I feel like he’d neglect his own needs just to satisfy everyone else and you’d have to intervene before it gets worse

“Sunshine I said I was fine, you don’t need to worry about me! Your Zuku is perfectly energized and ready to go”

“Zuku don’t lie to me, you know I can read you like a book. You’re coming with me and I’m putting you to bed”

-I hate to say it but this guy hates confrontation so much that sometimes he’ll suffer in silence for MONTHS before he even hints at being upset with something

-I honestly think your biggest argument with him would be about his lack of communication in terms of him not being completely honest about how he feels and he just breaks down-

-Like he has a really bad breakdown because he’s been bottling everything up for so long because he hates the idea of fighting with you.

-And now he’s sobbing because he’s so frustrated that he doesn’t know what else to do

-Anyways, the two of you just silently comfort each other until you’ve both calmed down enough to talk properly. This is the night Izuku finally starts opening up to you rather than bottling up every negative emotion he feels

-I honestly think his love language is a mixture of giving you gifts and words of praise

-He’s a little shy when it comes to showing you how he feels through affection, so giving you gifts and his praise get his point across

-He’s totally the type to send you cute messages throughout the day, send cute selfies when he misses you, or he just sends you a random bouquet of flowers because he saw them and thought of you

-Also the type of guy to have photos of the two of you displayed around his office. His most prized one being the photo of your first mission together

-Just warning you now that if you ever mention that your suit ripped or a certain item isn’t functioning properly then he’ll literally buy 10 replacements- each one better than the last

“Zuku I said that the sole of my BOOT ripped off, not my entire suit!”

“Well now you have 10 new upgraded suits to make sure it won’t happen again! Isn’t it great, Sunshine?”

(Someone take his credit card away from him)

I definitely think Izuku would be an amazing S/O! He’s caring, kind and comforting- and he does his very best to try and work on the bad habits he has.

Overall, I would say Izuku definitely would win a “S/O of the year award” (sorry Bakugou)

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

49!!!!!! Please

finally!!!! baby, finally!!!!

49. Boss/Intern (35yo!Boss!Anakin, 19yo!Intern!Obi-Wan)

(2.4k)

Obi-Wan rubs his hands rapidly down his face. He feels distinctly like he’s about to burst into tears, which would be a very bad thing to do here and now. His supervisor had come in fifteen minutes ago to tell him everyone was going to lunch. She’d invited him along, but he’d said no.

He always says no.

Lunch for the rest of the office means he gets to have a scheduled breakdown at his little cubicle.

He just. He just doesn’t know anything.

He’s only had this internship at Temple Tech for one week and already he’s floundered and fucked up more than anyone else probably has put together in their lifetimes.

He shouldn’t have ever applied, but he had been getting so desperate for summer employment, any sort of employment and, yes, this internship was out of his career field, and yes, he did have to lie at least five times on his resume, but it was an internship and it was paid.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. But then he actually got the job by some stroke of hellish luck, and he’s been learning every day since that it was actually probably a terrible idea. The learning curve is too steep. Obi-Wan is trying, but wow is he bad at it. Tech. Data stuff.

On his open computer, the sound of an email pinging rushes through his ears and he takes his hands off of his face to look. It’s from Anakin Skywalker. The boss.

Obi-Wan thinks he can feel his fingers grow numb. His heart feels like it’s stuttering in his chest, like it’s about to stop once and for all.

Temple Tech is a start-up company, still small but growing quickly. At its head is thirty-five year old Anakin Skywalker, which shouldn’t be any sort of a problem because Obi-Wan’s nineteen now and he can keep it in his pants, even if Anakin is hot as hell, smart as well, and so terribly kind whenever they run into each other.

Which happens a lot. Because it’s a small company, operating out of one renovated warehouse turned office. The floor plan is open enough that Obi-Wan’s able to see Anakin’s space--he gets a proper office, as part of being the boss, but he’s chosen to make the walls glass so it doesn’t feel as if he’s cut off from everyone else--from across the room. And Anakin is big on making everyone who works with him feel like family. A lot of companies say they do that or support that, but Anakin actually does. For one thing, he tells them to call him Anakin, not Mr. Skywalker. For another, he’s open about his personal life, but not so much that it makes anyone feel uncomfortable.

He’s quick with a smile and so understanding, and if he ever gets mad—and from his stories of his younger days, Obi-Wan knows he must have a temper—it’s never been in public.

And Anakin has never commented on how often Obi-Wan blushes around him, or how hard it is for him to focus on his work if Anakin sits on the edge of his desk to talk with him. Or any of the other employees, Obi-Wan has had to remind himself many times. Even though Obi-Wan feels hypersensitive and like a schoolgirl whenever Anakin is in his general vicinity, Anakin is a professional. He’s Obi-Wan’s boss. Nothing could ever happen between them. Not while Obi-Wan works under Anakin.

Even if Anakin is so nice and so kind and has asked to meet him now when everyone else is out of the building. It’s not suspicious and it’s definitely not cause for concern of any kind.

He thinks about shooting back an email, confirming it, but he’s never been good at the whole office environment thing. Instead, he logs off his computer and stands up.

It’s a short walk to Anakin’s office, hardly enough time for his palms to get sweaty.

Anakin’s typing something when Obi-Wan enters the room and he looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, aghast when he realizes he’s forgotten to knock. “I’m sorry, I--”

“Obi-Wan, come in, please,” Anakin gives him a slight smile and gestures for him to sit on the couch next to his desk. Obi-Wan takes a seat hesitantly. It’s as soft as it’s always looked.

Anakin types for a few more seconds on his computer before pushing away from his desk all together and taking a seat next to Obi-Wan on the couch.

“I’ve noticed you never go out to lunch with your coworkers,” Anakin says, positioning himself so he’s facing Obi-Wan completely. His body language is open, like he’s read one of those business books on how to sit so everyone knows you’re nice but you have an agenda.

It puts Obi-Wan on edge, and he fidgets around on his seat.

“You’re not in trouble, b--Obi-Wan,” his boss murmurs. “I just want to know why. Do you not like them? Have they been mean to you?”

“No!” Obi-Wan denies immediately, looking up at Anakin and biting his lip when he sees that the man’s attention is fixed so squarely on him. “No, of course not. Everyone here has been amazing.” He widens his eyes and raises both eyebrows. “Really, sir.”

Anakin looks distinctly uncomfortable. “I’ve told you to call me Anakin,” he criticizes, and Obi-Wan blushes more.

He’s really messing this up.

“Sorry, sir, I mean. Anakin. Sorry. Anakin,” he coughs. His palms are sweaty. He’s sitting on his attractive boss’s couch when everyone’s gone on lunch, and his palms are sweaty.

He doesn’t even want anything to happen.

Alright, so that’s a lie. He definitely has spent a lot of late nights thinking about something happening between them, just like this, but those are fantasies and Anakin is his boss. More than that, Anakin is a good man. He’d never take advantage of an intern in that way, no matter how frequently Obi-Wan feels as if he’s walking around with a sign around his neck that says, Take Advantage of Me, Mr. Anakin, Sir!

“Why don’t you go to lunch with them, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks softly, gently.

Obi-Wan’s hands clench down on themselves. It’s really the moment of truth, now. He really can’t keep lying, not when Anakin sounds so concerned. He has no right to be concerned! He shouldn’t care about Obi-Wan at all; hell, he shouldn’t even know him!

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles, staring down at the stretch of fabric on his knees.

Anakin hums. Obi-Wan wonders if he learned that from his fancy How to Run a Business books as well: don’t say anything, just let the other person talk until you know everything you need to know to crush them.

Damn if the silence doesn’t work to get Obi-Wan speaking again though.

“I...I’m behind on the work,” he admits. “I don’t have time to go to lunch because I need to figure out how to do my work.”

Anakin makes a sympathetic noise deep in his throat. “If...if your workload is too heavy, Obi-Wan, we can look into cutting it. I don’t want to be known as the company that runs its interns into the ground.”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightens too much and he shrugs. He can’t cry. He really shouldn’t cry. He did this to himself. “It wouldn’t help,” he whispers.

“What?” Anakin asks, leaning forward to hear him better.

“It wouldn’t help,” Obi-Wan says again, louder this time. Anakin blinks at him, and Obi-Wan finally tells him the truth. “I don’t know how to do any of this. I...I lied on my resume. I needed a job, for my student visa. I needed the money to keep it while not in school. And...and internships are supposed to look good on your resume, so I...I thought I could figure it out, I’m smart, sir, I’m so smart. I don’t know why I can’t figure it out.”

He drops his gaze to his hands again and breathes out shakily. He’d been carrying the weight of that secret for far longer than he should have been. It should have been a relief of the utmost degree to give it away. But instead he’s waiting for the punishment. Anakin will have to fire him now. Anakin might even get mad at him for lying.

When his boss doesn’t say anything for several long seconds, Obi-Wan chances a glance up at him through his lashes. Instead of anger on his face, there’s only a confused sort of sympathy.

“I’m...not sure I understand, Obi-Wan,” he says slowly. “You lied on your resume to get this internship, but...why couldn’t you have just applied to an internship in a different field? One you actually want to study? I know you like biology, you’ve told me more about biology in the past few weeks than you’ve told me about yourself.”

“None of them wanted me,” Obi-Wan sniffles and hates himself for it. “I tried, I promise. I promise I didn’t want to lie, but I needed the money, and this internship paid so much better than working at a coffeehouse would.”

Anakin puts his hand gently on his shoulder and Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from turning into the pressure of it. “It’s alright,” Anakin murmurs. “Oh no, please don’t--please don’t cry, b--Obi.”

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan wails.

Anakin hushs him. “Alright, Obi-Wan, alright. Let’s see what we can do.”

“You’re going to fire me,” he says with absolute certainty. He doesn’t even much like his job at Temple Tech, but how is he supposed to find another one on such short notice?

Anakin is quiet. He doesn’t say no.

“Look, I’ll try harder, I promise,” Obi-Wan stutters out, turning to look up at Anakin with wet eyes. What a picture he must make. Nothing professional about him at all. Nothing worth keeping around either. “I promise, please, don’t--I’ll--I’ll stay after hours, I’ll work late, come early. I need this job, sir.”

Anakin’s eyebrows furrow and he looks genuinely regretful, which is little comfort. “Obi-Wan, it’s not about...your work ethic. I promise, your work ethic is stronger and better than most of the people on my team.”

Obi-Wan wipes at his eyes hastily. He knows there’s a but coming soon.

“But I can’t...if you’ve lied on your resume, you can’t put Temple Tech there later. That’s not fair for anyone else who applied and was rejected in favor of you. The spot you have...I need someone there who knows what they’re doing with computers. Who wants to be there. Obi, it makes sense that you don’t know anything about tech. You never look like you really want to be here unless you’re talking to someone else.”

Obi-Wan’s bottom lip trembles and he can feel another wave of tears coming. “I understand, sir,” he mumbles, standing up and preparing to leave the office and Anakin Skywalker behind forever. He’s never been fired before. He doesn’t know what the decorum really is in this situation.

Being tugged back and into his boss’ arms doesn’t feel like how it normally goes, though.

But he can’t resist melting into Anakin’s tight hug, rubbing his cheek on the man’s nice shirt. He wants to give him something to remember him by, even if it’s just tear stains on expensive cotton.

“Lemme help you,” Anakin suddenly says, voice very gruff. Obi-Wan freezes in his arms and tilts his head to try and see Anakin’s face. Help him?

“I don’t understand,” he admits, biting his lip.

“I like you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin confesses. “I do. I’ll be sad to see you leave. I was already going to be sad to see you leave when your internship concluded, but this is much sooner. I…”

He trails off as if trying to make up his mind. It doesn’t take him long to nod to himself.

“Be honest,” he warns him, but there’s a joking lilt to his voice. Obi-Wan, personally, thinks that’s a little too soon. “Do you know how to clean house?”

Obi-Wan pulls out of Anakin’s arms to stare at him.

“Or walk dogs,” Anakin adds.

Slowly, Obi-Wan nods. Cleaning up a house and walking dogs feels like something he can figure out how to do. Feels pretty self-explanatory for the most part. The only thing he’s confused by is why Anakin is asking this of him.

“Would you...that is, just for the rest of the summer, until your classes start again--how would you feel about cleaning my house? And walking my dogs?” Anakin seems to hold his breath.

Obi-Wan feels like he’s stepped into the Twilight Zone or something.

“You’re...firing me,” he says slowly. “But...you’re offering me a job? As your….maid?”

“‘We should call it housekeeper,” Anakin says quickly, a pained look flashing across his face. “Too...many connotations with maid.”

“Why?” he has to ask. “I mean. I lied to you, sir. I...you’re firing me.”

“Because I need someone in that position who knows what they’re doing,” Anakin explains slowly.

“Do you want me in another position, sir?” Obi-Wan asks. He blushes furiously as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Anakin’s eyes darken and he clears his throat. He doesn’t say no, and his silence, the double entendre of his silence, makes the breath catch in Obi-Wan’s throat.

“You said you needed money to keep your visa,” Anakin says. “I’m trying to offer you an honest means of employment. I need someone to keep up my house and walk my dogs. If you can do it, I’d hire you over anyone else in a second.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan whispers, suddenly so very aware of how close they’re still standing to each other, how nice Anakin smells, how handsome he looks with just the beginning of a silver streak at his temple.

Anakin sweeps his gaze over Obi-Wan’s face and chest, and Obi-Wan has to wonder what he sees there. Whatever he does, he must like because he smirks. “Work ethic,” he murmurs.

#probably the next sentence out of obi-wans mouth is 'can you wait like fifteen minutes before you hire me after you fire me'#and anakin is like 'why'#and obi-wan is like 'so i can blow you and have you not be my boss'#and anakin is like 🤭😳😏👀 'baby you can have forty-five'#asks #prompt fill #cant believe i turned kinky boss/intern prompt #into just as kinky maid/boss prompt tbh #anakins about to start working from home a lot more #obikin #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker

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bagsley · 3 years

Text

my top ten favorite wincest fics of all time... completely unsurprising that over half of them are candle beck!

Last Day on Earth by candle_beck

PODFIC

Sam has one day to live. You can imagine how Dean feels. (Probably my favorite wincest fic of all time. Dean’s frantic heart-stopping terror over Sam is just the most familiar version of him, you know?? It feels so true.)

Dean turns on his brother, fists Sam's collar and hugs him very hard. His face feels hot and slippery against Sam's neck, and Dean doesn't care, thinks clearly: fuck it. Fuck it, as Sam hugs him back just as fierce, fuck the highway and the night sky and the scripture being read in the background, the heavens and the earth and the light, the cattle and the creeping thing and anything else you can name. Every matchstick, every initialed square of sidewalk, every abandoned heart--fuck it all.

Ascalon by candle_beck

PODFIC

There are dragons in the world. (Breathlessly beautiful. Fantastic use of second person pov.)

You've always loved your brother and you've always been fucked up on one level or another, and somewhere along the line it got all screwed up in your head, all your history rewritten.

You love Dean because you're fucked up. You're fucked up because you love Dean. Being fucked up and loving Dean are the same thing.

Until at last, inevitably: the manner in which you love Dean is fucked up.

You should have seen that coming.

But he makes you so stupid.

American Myth by candle_beck

PODFIC

As long as you have a car, you are free, and other lies my country taught me. (Sam and Dean lose home, but only for about five hours.)

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?” Dean asks, a lace of impatience through his voice. “Apparently I bug you just by existing, so really, Sam, what do you want?”

That blows through Sam like a hurricane, blasting out the corpses and debris, the black curse shadowing his life, the twenty-odd years of vigilante violence and brotherhood, stripping him down to the elemental, and he looks at Dean feeling crystallized, thinking in astonishment, you.

Flying Weight by fleshflutter

Recently soulful Sam, vampire Dean. Sam feels in constant bitter competition with the ghost of his soulless self. (Whew.)

There's a moment he remembers very clearly, one of the last he does remember: He's in the graveyard at Stull, and his arm is drawn back, fist clenched with the force of mountains, and the sun catches his eye, and just for a heartbeat, Lucifer is blind, can't see a damned or blessed thing. That's when Sam sees Dean.

That's the moment Sam hangs his humanity on.

Welcome to Fog City by candle_beck

PODFIC

Sam's one blind spot is big enough to drive a truck through.

It was also mortifying, paralyzing at times, but Dean wasn't even horrified so much as familiarly resigned. Already he'd grown up as a refugee with demons trying to kill his whole family, and now he was irrevocably attracted to his kid brother too. Clearly Dean Winchester's life was a spectacular cosmic joke, a series of rugs to be pulled out from under him, and luckily his sense of humor was dark enough that he could at least appreciate the absurdity of the whole thing. This was just one more ridiculous cross that God had given him to bear.

So Dean went on through the highway world. Radio stations delighted in informing him that the hits would keep right on coming, and Dean didn't know what to expect next. Leprosy, maybe. A plague of locusts. The violent loss of one of his hands.

Instead, Sam left, ran away to California one lovely day in the late summer. It was not the worst thing that could have happened, but it was certainly in the top five. The weight of that particular cross had nearly smashed Dean into the earth.

Second Map of the World by candle_beck

They're on a lucky streak, and then Sam does something ill-considered, and the plot thickens.

Dean drove out of Topeka as if trying to outrun the shock wave of a nuclear explosion. Ninety, a hundred, a hundred and ten miles an hour, blowing past strings of red taillights, huge rattling trucks like dinosaurs with loose bones. Dean had the tape turned up loud enough that the speakers fuzzed. His hands were locked on the wheel.

The Firefly that Loved Metallica by fleshflutter

Dean's soul in a bottle.

[Sam] faces down demons and drives a four-day old corpse across the country on a hope so thin it wouldn't stand up to a light rain.

Waiting Games by Nutkin

Sam's having sex visions.

Dean's dug into himself deeply, become this tricky maze of raised hackles and sensitive spots that he's starkly open about. So open about, in fact, that it's like they've been worn into calluses, like they aren't even vulnerabilities anymore. He can bark out at Sam that he's the most important thing in his life, and it doesn't sound like he's admitting something private - it's just the same way he'd say, Give Satan my best, before ending a spirit. He picks and chooses the things he's embarrassed by, the things he lets become issues, and the way he feels about Sam isn't one of them. It's not a bruise that can be pushed on - maybe it was, once, but in the time Sam was off going to keggers and building a fort of textbooks and love letters, Dean just cemented it into one of the things that drives him.

Be Awake by candle_beck

Dean has a concussion.

"I'm sorry," Sam said as he sat Dean down on the bed, stepped back. He had a hard flush on his face, a downcast shadow in his eyes. "Shouldn't have gotten mad, I, I shouldn't have left you out there."

Dean shook his head, smiling dazedly at him. Sam's edges were blurred and his hair looked funny, fuzzing out like a halo, but the lines of his face stayed sharp, Dean's last remaining constant. He couldn't remember what Sam was talking about, but he said:

"It's okay, Sammy,"

because it was, and Sam would see that, Sam was smart. Dean wanted to get that serious look off his brother's face, win a smile from him no matter how far south the night had gone, but the fog was building in his mind again, rolling down hills to obscure his cities, ground his airplanes, wreck his ships.

Dean held his wavering head steady, fixed his eyes on Sam's face with the last of his focus. He managed to say, "Exit light," and then pitched backwards on the bed.

Gone Again by candle_beck

Harrowing and suffocatingly, inevitably heartbreaking. They never stood a chance.

The dream is different this time.

This time they’re in a motel room and the walls are on fire. It’s Sam’s fault; every time he touches something it goes up in flames.

Dean can hear his hair crackling and he jerks his head, watching the sparks fly. Sam’s close enough that Dean can see the firework reflection in his eyes. He flattens his hand next to Dean’s head and an outline of fire flares around his fingers.

“You gotta stop,” Dean says, barely able to breathe. These motel rooms are as flimsy as cardboard; if one part burns the whole thing will go.

And Sam’s laughing and shaking his head, licking at Dean’s throat and it’s hotter than fire could ever hope to be.

“I was made for this,” Sam tells him. “So were you.”

Dean’s eyes are raw and torn and wet but it might be blood. His shirt is smoldering and growing holes like black-edged tumors that Sam follows with his fingers, smearing soot on the bare skin of Dean’s stomach. Stuff that won’t wash away, like the blisters Sam’s mouth is leaving on Dean, the mad incendiary glee in his eyes.

#wincest #fic rec #spn

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sunshineseung · 3 years

Text

Journal Part 4 // Jeongin

🍄 | genre: smut mini-series ☁️ | pairing: Yang Jeongin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 5.8k holy shit i am so sorry- 🌸 | includes: milf!reader x babysitter!college student!jeongin, plot 🤢🤮, smut within smut (mentions of marking, pet names/degrading names), anal toys (plug), jeongin wears feminine underwear, nipple clamps, mentions of rule breaking/punishment, begging, face sitting, praise, degradation, mentions (not use) of safe word, pegging, the obvious overuse of the word “mommy” and “ma’am”, aftercare, buttered pasta :)

🌊 | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Finale |

The sound of his own foot tapping was enough to make him more anxious than he already was, and the light shining through the window directly onto his shiny desk to reflect on his eye wasn’t helping. He’s practiced the conversation a million times over in his head. The plan was simple: class ends, ask Professor Lee about his missing journal, and get it back. How hard could it be?

Evidentially, pretty damn hard. All throughout class, Professor Lee was staring at Jeongin, picking on him when no one else would answer easy questions, and overall making his life a living hell just by his presence.

“Yang Jeongin, come see me.” Minho sighs, adjusting his glasses as he looks up at the clock on the wall of his classroom. “The rest of you are dismissed.”

Ending class 15 minutes early was extraordinarily unusual for Professor Lee, but the other students hardly batted an eye as they collected their belongings and shuffled out of the room, leaving as Jeongin stepped up to his professor’s desk. He was practically sweating bullets at this point, all of his plans flowing out of his head with every step. The glare Professor Lee was giving Jeongin was intimidating to say the least, but Lee Minho knew all too well what he was going to say.

“You wanted to speak to me, sir?” Jeongin tilts his head, standing over his professor, giving the illusion that Jeongin had the upper hand in this situation.

“Yes, Jeongin. You left your notebook behind last class, and I just wanted to give it back to you.” Professor Lee opens his top desk drawer, pulling out Jeongin’s journal and holding it out in his hand towards Jeongin. Before his student could grab it, he pulled away, reeling Jeongin in like a fish. “You really ought to be more careful with your stuff. Don’t want anyone else getting their hands on this, do we?”

Jeongin shakes his head, holding his hand out, patiently waiting for his teacher to put the book into his hand. The room is coated in silence despite the chatter from the hall. Jeongin can feel his heart beating out of his chest, trying his best not to jump over the desk and snatch the journal out of his professor’s hands.

“So, do you like writing?” The smirk stretching across Professor Lee’s smug face is breaking Jeongin. He feels this odd sense of deja vu on top of the overwhelming anxiety. Jeongin nods again, slightly shaking his outstretched hand, urging his professor to finally hand it over. “Is that what this journal is for? Writing?”

“Professor Lee, can I please have my journal back? I have another class to get to, sir.” Jeongin dodges the question like a professional, but Professor Lee isn’t satisfied. He laughs in Jeongin’s face, rolling his eyes slightly at the boy’s wit.

“I ended class early. You have plenty of time to talk, Yang Jeongin.” Professor Lee stands up, walking to the other side of his desk and pulling out another chair from a student desk. “Sit down, take a load off. You’re one of my star students. I’d like to get to know you.”

“Aright, professor.” Jeongin’s staring at the journal, loosely dangling from his professor’s hand. Still, he sits in the uncomfortable chair as the older man leans on his desk, facing the boy. Jeongin holds out his hand again, looking up at his professor with emotionless eyes, desperate to leave this room and go home, because him saying he has another class was a complete lie. Just for right now, Professor Lee wants to play a little game with Jeongin, a game the younger doesn’t even realize he’s playing.

“You don’t have to call me professor. Right now, you can call me Minho.” Jeongin nods, slouching in the chair. “You never answered my question, Jeongin. What do you write in this journal? Notes for class I’d assume.”

“Yeah, notes for class.” Jeongin’s voice cracks as he looks back at the journal, Minho now having one of his fingers between the pages. He winces just imagining what his professor would think if he read a single paragraph on any page. “I need them to study, so can I have it back now?”

“Well, if it’s just notes, then you’re okay with me reading it, right?” Minho jolts his arm up, opening the book to a random page. Jeongin’s about to run out of the room in embarrassment before Minho holds a hand up, successfully stopping him. “C’mon, Jeongin. Do you honestly think I haven’t already read this?”

If Jeongin had anything in his stomach right now, he’d surely throw up. You reading the journal was one of his fantasies come to life, but this was a bit overkill. He’d never want anyone other than you to read his journal, let alone one of his professors.

“What’s got you so quiet now?” Minho raises the pitch of his voice to taunt Jeongin, playing up the scene. “You’ve had the audacity to write about Y/n in this book nearly every single class, but now that you’ve been caught, you bite your tongue?”

“Don’t say her name!” Jeongin gets extremely defensive, standing out of the seat to be the same height as his professor. “What do you want from me? Just give me the journal and I’ll go. I’ll even switch out of this class if you want. I don’t care!”

“Aw, Jeonginnie~” Minho rests his face on his hand, holding his own cheek as he watches Jeongin’s face get red with anger. “Just tell me, how is Y/n doing?”

“How do you know Y/n?” Jeongin’s confused, unable to connect the pieces to this puzzle.

“You’re not as smart as you let on.” Minho gets closer to Jeongin, getting right in his face to scare the young boy. “I was her husband. We were your neighbors.”

Jeongin could feel his legs shake, finally connecting every conversation, every question, every action. He steps back, vision going blurry as he’s flooded with memories of seeing none other than Lee Minho in your front lawn, playing with his daughters in the back, or sneaking out to a taxi late at night towards the end of his memories. Jeongin didn’t know your name until he started working for you, let alone know your estranged husband’s name. He felt like such a dumbass at this moment.

“So, how is she?” Minho puts his hand on Jeongin’s shoulder, forcing Jeongin to focus on him. “If you’re going to fuck my ex wife, you could at least tell me how she’s doing.”

“She’s doing well, certainly a lot better without you.” Minho scoffs, laughing at Jeongin’s weak attempt at a diss.

“And the girls are doing well?”

“Yup. I watch them every night after my classes.” Jeongin folds his arms, turning his chin up at Minho. How soon he forgets that Minho still has his precious journal.

“So that’s where she gets ya, huh?” Minho brings the notebook back to his face, flipping to a random page, putting his finger on a random line. “Is that where she, in your words, ‘gripped your cock like you’ve wanted her to for so long’? Or did that happen later?”

Half of Jeongin’s brain is struggling to come up with a response, while the other half is thinking about the first time you gave him a blowjob. He’s clenching his fists with anger, hoping Minho didn’t see him starting to pop a boner.

“What goes on between us is none of your business.” Jeongin jumps forward, finally snatching his journal out of Minho’s hands. He holds his journal tightly in his hands, clutching it close to his chest. “I’ll be leaving now.”

Just as Jeongin turns around to get his bookbag, Minho grabs his wrist and turns him around, once again finding each other inches away from the other’s face.

“She didn’t tell you anything about me, did she?” Jeongin shakes him off, rapidly walking back to his desk to get his bag. “Answer me, little boy.”

“She’s never said a word about you, Minho.” Jeongin goes for the door, finally seeing his exit within his sights. “Now leave me alone. I’ll see you on Thursday, sir.”

And with that, he’s out. Finally within possession of his journal, he minds his business walking down the hall, heading back to his house that’s less than a 10 minute walk from the campus.

Just wait until Y/n hears about this.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

“He really hasn’t changed at all.” You stare out the window, taking a sip of tea from your mug as Jeongin finishes retelling the entire story to you. “I’m proud of you, Jeongin.”

“Proud of me? Why?”

“You handled him very well. Any other boy your age would have crumbled under the pressure.” You sit next to him on the couch, putting your hand on his thigh more as comfort than a tactic to get into his pants. Regardless of your intentions, Jeongin can’t help but blush and bite his lip being the horny boy he is. “Lee Minho has a way with words. His charm worked on me in high school, and I’m sure it works on the other students in his classes.”

“Oh yeah, all the girls have crushes on him.” Jeongin covers his mouth with his hands when he realizes what he says. You just giggle at him, recalling some of the sweet, romantic moments you had with your ex-husband before everything went to shit.

“Well, you know, the girls are going to his house this weekend. Maybe you should come over?” You ride your hand up his thigh teasingly, making Jeongin freeze as if he hasn’t had sex with you literally days earlier. “I’m always so worried about the girls when they’re with him. Maybe you can help me destress, baby boy.”

“I’ll help you destress, mommy!” Jeongin smiles, mentally clearing his schedule for this weekend. “Can I ask something though?”

“Ask away, baby. I’m an open book.” You lean back, one arm flailing behind your head as you take another sip from your mug.

“Why did you two… separate?” Jeongin cringes at his own words, realizing he might have crossed a line as your facial expression changes from a soft smile to a frown. “I’m just curious, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ll tell you.” You huff as you sit up, swinging your arms forward so you can straighten your back. “He started acting distant out of nowhere, and some nights I’d wake up to find him gone from his side of the bed. A quick glance at his phone and I saw texts from another woman. I’d rather not get into gruesome details, but that’s the jist of it.”

“You don’t have to get into details. I shouldn’t have asked.” Jeongin shakes his head, leaning on your shoulder to comfort you. You put your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close to you. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

“No, thank you for asking. It feels good to get these things off of my chest.” You sigh, feeling an odd sense of relief. You’ve never talked to anyone about this other than a therapist you had for a brief time before work took over your life.

“So… was he a sub like me?” You nearly spit out your tea, Jeongin sitting up and patting your back to stop you from coughing on the drink. “Sorry! Sorry!”

You can’t help but laugh at the curious boy, his face getting redder than you’ve ever seen. That’s the hardest you’ve ever laughed in a while.

“Do you really want to know?” You raise an eyebrow, Jeongin covering his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“I mean… a little.” He uncovers one eye, looking at your cheerful expression and immediately calming down after seeing you aren’t mad. “You’re good at… ya know. You have to have experience being a dom, right?”

“Actually, I’ve always been the submissive. Do you really think the egoist Lee Minho would let someone else be in control?” You laugh at your own remark, Jeongin catching on and laughing with you. “But thank you for saying I’m good at sex I guess. Although, I don’t know how much of a compliment that is considering you’re a virgin”

“Hey! I’m not a virgin anymore!” The red-as-a-tomato Jeongin makes a return as you laugh at his defensiveness. “Can I ask… one more question?”

“Jeez, are you interviewing me or something?” You take another sip of your tea as you gesture for the boy to ask away. He gulps, calculating his final question before he has to go home.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” Pause. You stare at the floor, thinking critically to yourself. How can you let down your sweet little boy without breaking his poor heart?

“Jeongin, you know we can’t be together.” You take one of his hands in your free hand, squeezing his fingers between yours as he nods, looking down at his legs. “I’m over 10 years older than you. That would be absurd.”

“What if no one knows?” He’s really harping on this, huh? “Or can we be another title? Maybe friends with benefits?”

“Yang Jeongin,” your quiet, commanding voice makes Jeongin look into your eyes, seeing the seriousness in your expression, “I’m your mother’s friend, not yours. I’m not sure how to define our relationship, but if you really want a label, we can be… sex partners. But no one can know that, alright?”

“I understand.” Jeongin squeezes your hand back, allowing a comforting silence to fill the room. “So, this weekend?”

“You can come over Friday night. He takes the girls in the morning, but I have work for the first half of the day. I took the weekend off, though, so I’m all yours, pretty boy.” You kiss his lips, getting caught in the taste before you pull back, stay your goodbyes, and send him home for the night before you go to bed for yourself.

When Jeongin gets back to his room, he sighs and takes out his journal, cracking his fingers before laying the pencil on the paper.

I want Lee Minho to pay. I want him to pay for breaking the heart of the woman I love, even if she doesn’t reciprocate the feelings. He must be insane for cheating on such an amazing woman. If mommy marks me up, leaving hickeys all over my pale neck, I’ll boldly wear something with a low-cut so Lee Minho can see all of the marks left by the most beautiful woman in the world. I’ll make sure he knows that I satisfy her more than he ever could. Y/n, if you’re reading this, please leave pretty bruises all over my body. I want mommy to mark me so bad, make sure everyone knows I’m hers. Regardless of the label anyone puts on our relationship, no one can deny that I’m hers. Her perverted boy, her slutty toy, her little prince, all hers. Only hers.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

The weekend flies closer than he could have imagined, and after seeing you come home exhausted and drained every single night, nothing pleases Jeongin more than knowing he’s the one that will help you relax. As he walks to your house, he regrets not going to the store and getting lotions so he could give you a massage from his unqualified hands.

“Hey, baby.” You smile at him, bright and gorgeous as always. You invite him in and offer him a drink, which he politely declines. You notice he’s shaking more than usual, and although he was always nervous and awkward, you’ve never see him get this shaky. “Are you okay, Jeongin?”

“Mommy…”

“Oh, we’re right out the gate with this one?”

“I have a surprise for you.” Jeongin takes his shirt off and pulls down his jeans, revealing a hot pink, lace thong covering his half-hard cock. You look up from his cock to his chest, seeing fake, silver nipple rings adorning his pink buds. You cover your mouth as you gasp, indescribably turned on from the presentation this boy had planned. “That’s not all.”

He turns around, bending over so the thong dives deeper between his ass cheeks, but you quickly notice what he was hinting at. There’s a little pink rose peeking out of his ass, a clear decoration on a plug. He looks so fucking hot. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“What do you think, mommy?” He holds his arms out as he turns around, facing you again as your body hasn’t moved since he’d last faced you. “Don’t you like it?”

“I love it, little prince.” You walk up to him, holding his waist in your hands as you pull him closer, licking one of his nipples, tasting the distinct metal flavor of the ring. “You never fail to surprise me, baby.”

You kiss from his nipple to his panties, getting down on your knees as you lick over the thin fabric. He twitches under the lace, getting harder every second. Before your mouth can properly suck his cock, you stand up and kiss him harshly on the lips, tasting a faint strawberry flavor. You smile against his mouth, holding his by his waist again as you pull him into your body, your chests coming in contact.

“Mommy, please sit on my face. I want to make you feel good,” Jeongin whines between kisses. Your hands run up and down his body, feeling him up and making him shiver in anticipation. For right now, you’re content with just sucking on his sweet lips, but his cock clearly needs some attention. “Please~”

“Let’s go to my bedroom, sweetheart. I’ll ride your pretty face as much as you want.” You take his hand in yours as you take him back to your room, practically throwing him on the bed. He palms himself over his thong while you undress, totally forgetting about the rules you’d set up. When you turn around, your gaze goes immediately, almost instinctively, to his hand on his cock as he half-assedly strokes himself. “Is my naughty little boy touching himself? Without my permission?”

“Sorry, mommy. I couldn’t help it.” Jeongin presses his bottom lip out as he pouts, pulling his hand off of his cock. You roll your eyes and get onto the bed, sitting over his chest before staring down at him like you’re a shark and he’s your next meal.

“I don’t know if you deserve to eat my pussy anymore.” You ponder, bringing your hand to your chin as if you’re genuinely considering not riding his face until you’re dripping. He puts his hands above his head and pleads again, whining in his adorable high-pitched voice. “Alright, baby boy, but only because I want this.”

You scoot up to his face, hovering your naked cunt over his gorgeous face. As you slowly start to lower your hips to his mouth, Jeongin eagerly sticks his tongue out and fights against his reflexes to just grab you. He laps at your folds, humming from the sweetness as you grind on his face and grip the headboard of the bed.

“Good boy, Jeonginnie. If you make mommy cum, you’ll get a reward.” He moans into your pussy, his cock twitching under his lace panties just at the thought of you rewarding him. For being so hungry for punishment just days prior, he really wanted to be your good little boy just for today. He sticks his wet tongue into your cunt, inciting you to ride his face even harder, raising and lowering just enough for his tongue to never leave your tight, needy cunt.

His tongue pulls back, leaving you empty for a moment before he starts kissing and sucking at your clit. You lean forward, putting your clit right up to his mouth all for him. Your sopping cunt was absolutely begging for an orgasm, and Jeongin was getting you there faster than you could have ever imagined. The moans leaving your throat only made Jeongin want to make you cum even more.

“Please cum on my face, ma’am.” Jeongin wastes no time returning his tongue to your pussy, his wrists still above his head as if he were cuffed. Your legs start to get uneasy, shaking around Jeongin’s head as you breath heavily and mindlessly moan out his favorite pet names and countless praises. He’s smiling against you, sucking your folds until you finally release, your cunt tightening around his tongue as you whine and grind, riding out your high on his face. You were undoubtedly euphoric, slowly coming down from an extremely intense orgasm, but Jeongin was also through the moon, tasting all of your juices leaking into his mouth.

“Ah, thank you little boy.” You flip your leg over his head, stepping back onto the floor with your weak, tired legs, a hand on the bed so you don’t fall over. You run a hand down his leg, Jeongin starting to shake with anticipation. He holds his wrists steady above his head without any help of restraints. Your palm runs over his cock, touching him over his thin panties. He lets out a huff, needy for more. “Does my sweet prince need to be fucked?”

Jeongin’s whine are so fucking pathetic. A tear runs down his cheek just from the thought of you fucking him. He watches you as you turn around and reach into your drawer, digging through until you pull out a harness and a bright pink dildo that oddly matches his panties. Jeongin tightens his hole, remembering the bulb nestled in his ass. As you put the harness on, he lifts his hips and shakes his as against the bed.

“Mommy,” he whimpers, “please fuck my ass. Need your cock in me so fucking bad!” He sounds so overwhelmingly lewd, but you loved every second of it. You attach the dildo to your harness, tightening it perfectly so it won’t budge. You cup his cheek as you reposition yourself on the bed, lifting his legs over your thighs. You watch his cock tremble, begging to be touched, as Jeongin stares directly at your face, watching your eyes dart from his cock to his hardened nipped to his quivering lips. “Mommy?”

“Yes sweetheart?” You tilt your head and smile, making a burst of warmth erupt in Jeongin’s chest.

“Please be gentle, okay?” You giggle at his cuteness and nod, reaching to your bedside to take out lube. Squirting it onto your hand, you rub the length of the dildo with one hand while you teasingly pull at his plug, pulling it out just enough to make him groan.

“You look incredible, baby boy.” You lean down to kiss him while your hand moves from your dildo to his ass, both hands pulling out the plug before you finger him with lubed fingers. All of his moans are lost on your lips, his tongue letting out and into your mouth, dancing with yours. He squeals when your fingers leave his ass, and he knows exactly what’s next.

You take his hands in yours from above his head, pulling them down to be next to his head. You lean over the boy while you line your cock with his hole, teasingly pushing the tip against his entrance.

“I’ll go slow, don’t worry angel.” Your hands hold your hips as you slowly push the strap into Jeongin, watching it disappear into his tight little hole. His thong is pushed to the side of his hole while painfully rubbing against the bottom of his shaft. You would have taken it off, but he just looks too damn sexy in them.

Jeongin writhes as you stop halfway, petting his sides to help him calm down. He feels so full, so stretched, something he’s never felt before. He’s wanted this for so long, he just wants to enjoy it so bad, especially for you, but the pain is starting to get to him. He’s whining loudly, biting down on his lip harshly in hopes of silencing some of his sounds.

“Jeongin? Are you okay?” Your voice is soft, but not delicate. You’re speaking at a regular volume, an attempt to pull Jeongin out of his head. He opens his eyes and looks at you, tears threatening to fall out. “What’s the safe word?”

“Avocado.”

“One more time for me, baby. What’s the safe word?” Without moving your hips, you lean forward to hold onto his face. He looks so gorgeous, messy and covered in sweat. You just want him to be happy.

“Avocado.” He pushes his face against your hand, his voice returning to a regular pitch. “You can go further now, mommy.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” You lean more to kiss his forehead, admiring his sharp facial features.

“I want you to fuck me, please.” His tone is flat, sounding almost unenthused until the final word. You nod and patiently push into him, carefully watching his face for any indication of pain. Jeongin starts to groan loudly as you bottom out, pressing the bottom of the harness against him. “Thank you.”

“Good boy, Innie. My angel’s so pretty like this.” Your hands go to his chest, dainty fingers pinching his nipples just how he likes. His moans are back to being the high, pathetic whines you’re used to from the boy. His cock twitches, a drop of precum dripping from the tip. “You ready for me to move, my little prince?”

“Yes, mommy. I’m ready!” Your heart warms watching Jeongin’s face light up for such a perverted sentiment. He looks so excited, finally starting to enjoy it. You grip his hips tight as you pull out, watching his cock stutter and his mouth hang open. When you pound back into him slowly, Jeongin feels that familiar warmth in his stomach.

“You like this, baby boy? You like getting fucked by your mommy?” Your voice is sinister as you increase the pace, rhythmically moving your hips against Jeongin’s ass. His legs shutter as you fuck him, all of his nerves standing on edge. “Who’s mommy’s little cumslut?”

“I am, mommy! I’m your little c-cum… fuck!” Jeongin throws his head back as you wrap one hand around his cock, your other hand is grounded on his hip. You start to jerk him, fast and aggressive, coaxing him to an orgasm even faster.

The dildo drags against Jeongin’s walls, brushing past the sensitive spot he didn’t even know he had. With every thrust and stroke, he can feel himself start to fall apart, all of his speech devolving into incoherent whines and cries. Sweat drips down his forehead as he finds it harder and harder to hold back his release.

“C-close,” he whimpers, “gonna cum.”

“Aw, my sweet little boy ready to cum?” You speed up the movements of your hand, tightening your iron grip on his sensitive, red cock. Jeongin feels his reality start to fade, only being able to focus on his impending orgasm. “Cum all you want, baby. Be a good little boy and cum for mommy.”

Your eyes stare intensely at his cock as he’s pushed over the edge, his body convulsing as he has the most powerful orgasm of his life. He shoots his load all over his abs and chest, some dripping onto your hand. Your hand goes still on his shaft, but your hips still slowly rut into him, easing him through his high.

“Gonna pull out now, alright pretty boy?” He nods, bringing his hand up to his face for him to bite down on his finger. You gently pull your hips back, eventually slipping out of him, watching him breath heavily as you let go of his hips and cock. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, Y/n. You felt so good,” he smiles, watching you as you stand up to pull the harness off and toss it towards the drawer for you to clean later. “Can we get dinner now?”

“Sweetheart, you need to rest!” You walk to the side of the bed and give him a peck on his forehead, soon kissing him on his plush lips. He lays on your bed, limbs spread out as he’s lifeless and naked. “You did so well for me. I’ll cook you dinner while you take a nap, alright?”

“I’d like that, mommy. Thank you!” You pull the discarded comforter over his body, forcing him to get warm and cozy under your covers. He looked so sweet in your bed, snuggled against the soft bed that smelled like you.

“How about pasta? Does my boy like pasta?” He nods, shutting his eyes and rolling to his side, preparing to sleep. “I’ll be back in an hour. Rest well, Jeongin.”

“Thank you~”

Jeongin dozes off as you get dressed in lounge pants, a loose shirt, underwear and no bra. He looks so peaceful sleeping, so you’re extra quiet when you slip out of your bedroom to the kitchen.

You gather the ingredients and start to boil the water when you get a call. Just as before, it’s your ex-husband, Minho. You groan and hesitantly press the green phone button, turning the call to speaker before setting your phone on the counter.

“Y/n? Hello?”

“What do you want, Minho?” Your voice sounds disinterested to say the least, and Minho immediately gets the hint that his call was not wanted.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase. One of my student’s grades are suffering because of your relationship with him-“

“Shouldn’t you be watching my kids?” You don’t have the mental capacity to listen to Minho scold you right now. Your motherly instincts are tingling, and he should be watching your little angels right now.

“They’re with their stepmom right now.” You grumble at his use of the word “stepmom” considering your daughters still call her by her first name, but nevertheless, you go silent, hoping he’ll get on with this call. “As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, you need to stop playing games with Yang Jeongin.”

“Playing games?” Your face turns red as anger suddenly fills your brain. “We aren’t playing games, Lee Minho. We’re adults. Neither of us need your permission.”

“You’re playing with this kid’s feelings. Don’t you feel bad?” You pause, watching bubbles start to rise in the pot. “This kid is suffering just because you want to be fucked and you’re too prideful to-“

“Don’t even say that, Minho.” You reach for the box of pasta, dumping the noodles into the pot of boiling water. “I’ll never get back with you. You know that.”

“What does he have that I don’t?” You hear a loud tsk through the phone, Minho taking a break in his talk to ponder his next move. “You’d rather fuck a college student than a real man?”

“Jeongin’s more of a real man than you’ll ever be!” You’re nearly yelling at this point, rage overwhelming you. “What do you know about our relationship anyway? It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is!” Before you have a chance to respond to his outlandish comment, he chimes back in. “He writes in his little fantasy book every single class, and every time I look over his shoulder, I have to see your name scrawled over every page. He’s obsessed with you, Y/n.”

“Shut up! Just, shut up!” You stop stirring the pasta to collect your thoughts, breathing in before you lash out at Minho over the phone. “Go watch my kids-“

“Our kids.”

“Go watch our kids and never speak to me about this again. I’ll tell Jeongin to get his grades up. Just, for fuck’s sake, leave me alone.” You hang up, angrily throwing your phone onto the counter again. You hear the floor squeak behind you and you turn around, a scared Jeongin standing behind you with the blanket wrapped around him.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” His eyes well up with tears, fearful of how you’ll respond. “This was a mistake.”

“Jeongin, baby, no!” You drop the spoon to the edge of the pot and bring Jeongin in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. His arms wrap around your neck, the blanket falling to the floor to reveal him wearing one of your big shirts. “Don’t mind him. How much did you hear?”

“A-all of it.” He sniffles, collecting himself with deep breaths. “I didn’t know I’d cause so much trouble.”

“It’s Minho who’s causing trouble, not you.” You pet down his back, trying to get him to calm down and stop crying. “Go back to my room and lay down, babe.”

“Can I stay out here and watch you?” You lean down to pick up the blanket, wrapping it around Jeongin again. His eyes are puffy and red as if he’s been emotional for a while, and your heart aches just looking at his disheveled state.

“Of course, baby. Go sit on that stool.” He pulls the stool out from under the kitchen island and gets comfortable, leaning on the counter with his elbows. You go back to stirring the pasta, watching it rise and fall. “I love you, Jeongin.”

“I love you too, Y/n. Thank you for inviting me here today.” He swoons at your bright demeanor, a stark contrast from the bitter persona you’d taken while on the phone with his professor. “What did you mean when you said I’m a… real man?”

You laugh a bit, dropping the spoon to the side and getting butter and a bowl out for the pasta. “Lee Minho was never a good man. He takes advantage of everyone who comes into his life. You’re not like that.”

Jeongin tilts his head. “Then what am I like?”

“You’re, uh…” you put your hand on your chin, scratching at your skin in thought. “You’re very kind and genuine, which is a bit surprising for a boy your age.”

Jeongin hated every time you brought up age. It only furthered to remind him about how different you two were, and how he never had a chance with you from the start. In your eyes, he’ll never be more than a kid, and that ate away and him. Jeongin’s only goal with you was for you to see him as an equal rather than a child, but he wasn’t sure how to go about reaching that.

“So I’m a real man?” Jeongin smiles, his heart fluttering thinking of you calling him a man.

“Pasta’s ready! Do you want cheese?” You pour the pasta from the strainer into the bowl, mixing it with the butter. Per your request, Jeongin gets the powdered cheese out of the refrigerator, sitting at the kitchen island again, this time with you right next to him, piling pasta onto his plate before yours, your motherly instincts kicking in again.

“Thank you mo- I mean, Y/n!” You both giggle at his adorable slip up, appreciating each other’s company.

“You’re welcome, baby boy.” You push his hair from his forehead and kiss his nose, his cheeks quickly turning a deep shade of pink. “So cute.”

taglist: @milkym00n @sparklysung @starsareseen @sailorhyunjinz @gothicstay @vogueinnie @mariannaab

#skz smut #stray kids smut #i.n smut #jeongin smut #yang jeongin smut #sub!skz #kpop smut

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slafkovskys · 3 years

Text

and ain’t no where that i’d be / t. zegras

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from what’s my name? by rihanna feat. drake

warning! please be advised that there is mature content below the cut

you were sitting in your bed when you got the notification. on the upper right corner of your screen, the messages banner popped up and your eyes scan over the words:

i’m picking you up and we’re fucking in the back of my car

it was simple, straight to the point, seemingly leaving no room for an argument. it causes your stomach to twist and your heart rate to increase.

you inhale sharply and stare at the message until it disappears. you weren’t even sure that you blinked. in the few seconds after, your cursor taunts you where it blinks. for most of the day, you’d been working on your schoolwork in an attempt to get ahead, but now, after reading what he had sent, the only words that you could focus on were his.

you didn’t respond because you knew that he knew that you wouldn’t object. you just close your laptop and set it aside before getting out of your bed. you walk over to your drawer to fish out some clothes other than your pajamas. you knew that he didn’t care what you wore and you knew that it wouldn’t be on very long, but you still wanted to try and look half decent. you hadn’t seen him in almost a month and, to be fair, you thought that he was going to break on day three. sure there were pictures sent back and forth and a couple of sessions over the phone, but you knew that would only keep him at bay for so long.

you took a quick shower too, using the body wash you knew he loved. you ran your hands through your hair before you grabbed your clothes. you put on your undergarments (red, lacy, dainty, undeniably his favorite on you) before covering them with a sweater and some soft shorts.

and then you waited.

you knew that he lived twenty minutes away and he did have a tendency to speed at times, but you didn’t know when he planned on leaving. your mind, still reeling from his text, races as you stare out of your window, anxiously watching for his car.

it wouldn’t be the first time you two had done it, sneak out to screw around that is, but now, especially under the circumstances, it just felt a little more nerve-wracking. a little more dangerous. a little more exciting.

it was a few minutes later that your phone lit up with a second message from him. he was down the block and waiting. you took a deep breath before walking over to your window and pushing it open. you slipped out and left it open a crack so you would be able to get back in before maneuvering your way down onto the ground.

your parents wanted you to sneak out, you concluded the first time you had done it. they put you in the room with a tree just outside the window that made it easy to make a break for it. that’s how you would justify it to yourself every time.

you walk around the side of your house and make your way down the driveway and towards where trevor would be parked. you both knew it wouldn’t be very smart for him to pull into your driveway like he usually would. it was way after midnight and you technically weren’t supposed to be going anywhere. plus, your mom would have a fit if she knew what you were doing.

you walk a few houses down before you spot trevor’s car. you slip in the passenger’s side and lean over to press your lips to his. your hand rests on his cheek, touching the skin you hadn’t been able to touch in weeks.

the kiss was hungry, rushed. you were making up for the lost time. he pulls away first and grabs a piece of your hair, wrapping it around his finger as a lazy smile graces his lips, “i missed you.”

“i missed you too, trev,” you smile, pressing your lips to his once more before leaning back in your seat. after you pull your seatbelt across your body, his hand finds yours as he pulls away from the sidewalk.

while he drove, you took your time to analyze him. he hadn’t put much effort into his look either, but he looked good nonetheless. he was wearing a hoodie and sweats and even had his glasses on. the glasses alone were enough to make you clench your legs together (which he, of course, felt you do and chuckled in response) because he always looked so damn good in them.

“where are we going?” you ask as he slows to a flashing red light. he checks to make sure nothing is coming before pulling forward.

“the spot,” he answers simply, providing no further explanation. it wasn’t necessary, you knew exactly where he was talking about. in the place of a verbal answer, you squeeze his hand.

it took some time before you got there. trevor pulled his car off the road and took you where he always did. “the spot” was a long-abandoned, wooded area just outside of town. the grass was tall and easy to sneak off into. it was a popular place for parties and hooking up. you likely weren’t the first two to come out here since lockdown had started and you wouldn’t be the last, but thankfully tonight, you were the only.

he kills the engine and looks at you. instead of giving him time to say anything, you surge forward and press your lips to his. just like when you had gotten in his car, the kiss was hungry. full of want, full of need.

“baby, i need you to get in the backseat,” he mumbles against your lips and you comply with a giggle. when you slip between the seats, you notice he had already put the back row of seats down.

you wait for him to join you in the back before smirking as you straddle his hips, “came prepared, huh?”

“couldn’t wait. needed you as soon as possible so i figured that i would save myself some time,” he says, gripping onto your hips as you rock forward against the prominent tent in his pants. “you’re just a tease aren’t you?”

“do you want me to stop?” you raise an eyebrow as you slip your hands under his hoodie and up his chest. he makes a noise and puts his hand on the back of your neck to pull you down. “didn’t think so.”

“cocky,” he mumbles before pressing his lips to yours. you let him indulge himself for a minute before you pull back and start to trail wet kisses down his neck. you find a spot on his neck and bite down, sucking a bruise into the skin. he grunts and slips his hands fully underneath your shirt. his fingers quickly find the lace of your bralette and he groans, “oh my- lace? jesus fucking-”

“just for you,” you pull back and strip off your shirt, throwing it to the side. his eyes rake over your body, taking you in before he sits up. he pulls you impossibly closer, trailing kisses across your collarbone before moving down. he pushes your strap down and his mouth wraps around your nipple. “trev,” you gasp, gripping onto the back of his neck and rocking forward.

with his mouth still working on your chest, his hand slips up your thigh and under the waistband of your shorts. once again, he groans as he feels the lace of your underwear, but he doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand under them and rub over your clit.

he collects some of your arousal on his fingers before pushing them inside, prepping you. your hand grabs onto his wrist at the shock and he pulls back, looking at you with slight concern, “are you okay baby?”

“yeah, trev. i’m-” you try and get your words out, “i’m good. just kind of got used to mine. keep going please.”

“okay baby. just let me know if you need a break or want to stop okay,” he waits for your verbal confirmation before slipping his fingers back in and crooking them. you whine, burying your head in his neck. “that’s my girl. so responsive. did you miss my fingers?”

“yeah,” you mumble against his neck, mouthing at the skin. “mine aren’t the same, aren’t as long. don’t reach like yours.”

“i know. we won’t be doing that again. can’t let my girl go that long without me,” he assures, adding a third while his thumb works at your clit. “let’s get your shorts off, pretty girl. you think you’re ready?”

“can’t wait anymore. need you,” you respond, helping take your shorts and thong off. you go to unclip your bralette, but trevor stops you, asking you to leave it. you help him push his sweatpants down, giggling at his lack of boxers.

“as i said, needed you as soon as- fuck!” he cuts himself off with a groan as you wrap your hand around his member and start to go up and down. “condom’s- wallet.”

“classy,” you mumble as if you weren’t about to have sex in the middle of the night at a well-known hookup spot.

you find his wallet and pull out the condom. you rip it open and roll it down, hovering on top of him. you raise an eyebrow as his hands settle on your waist, “you good?”

“yeah, you?” he asks breathlessly. you nod and press your lips to his as you sink down, swallowing his moans. you sigh as he settles fully inside, thankful to finally be full. “baby, god, you’re so fucking gorgeous. love you so much.”

“how are you cum dumb if you haven’t even cum yet?” you tease against his lips, clenching around him.

he groans, “because i’ve been jacking off to pictures of your tits for about a month now. sue me.”

“and they say that chivalry is dead,” you sigh, raising up and planting your hands on his chest to help with leverage. you raise up and sink back down, finding your pace. trevor was always noisy in bed and this time was no different even though you weren’t actually in bed. you can’t help but chirp him, “what? does that feel good?”

he’s quick to snap open his eyes. he moves his hand from your hip to wrap around your neck and squeeze. you gasp and clench around him. “what?” he teases, knowing damn well what he was doing, “does that feel good?”

“fucking- hate- you,” he thrusts between each of your words causing them to be broken and barely comprehensible. he chuckles and forces your head down to kiss him as he continues to meet your thrusts. you hook your fingers in his chain to pull him forward to meet you in the middle as your teeth clash against each other. your tongues quickly find each other and you let him win that battle. it wasn’t long before you knew that both of you were closing in on a release. “i’m-”

“i know baby, me too. together yeah?” he asks and you nod, keeping your foreheads pressed together. just as you suspected, it didn’t take long before you were reaching your highs. he emptied into the condom while you spilled around him with a moan. “so good, baby.” his lips press against your shoulder as you continue to rock forward to ride out your high, “you’re so fucking good baby.”

once you calm down, you finally press a soft kiss to his lips, “that was good, trev. thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me,” he chuckles, helping you off of his lap. he carefully pulls off the condom and ties it off, leaving it to be dealt with later as you both reach around the confined space, collecting your clothes “do you wanna-”

the sound of your phone ringing startles you both. you share a confused look before you reach into the front seat to grab it and answer, “hello?”

“y/n,” your sister’s voice is bored as she speaks, “this is just a courtesy call. mom knows and she’s looking for you.”

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey imagine #hockey smut #anaheim ducks #my work

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mystic-shadows42 · 3 years

Text

Infiltrate

Pairing: Hvitserk x reader x Ivar

Warnings: Language

Summary: Hvitserk is in love with the reader who happens to be married to Ivar. Loyalty is tested and jealousy spikes.

The men brought forth Hvitserk to present to Ivar. A new member to join their fight.

Ivar looked rather surprised to see Hvitserk there. They hadn’t left on good terms but he wanted to hear him out regardless.

“Hello, brother. I see you’ve decided to join me.”

Hvitserk was about to answer until he saw movement from behind Ivar. He saw your flowing dress headed towards them. Even in front of Ivar, he could hardly take his eyes off of you.

“Yeah,” he just barely whispered.

Ivar noticed he was distracted and turned around in time to see you. He smiled and embraced you in his arms. This time Ivar let his mouth linger on you as he peppered your lips with kisses.

“Ivar, not in front of your brother,” you whispered into his ear and he smiled into your neck.

Ivar loosened his hold on your hips but let his hands roam over your arms and waist.

“Hello, Hvitserk. I’m glad you’re here to support us.”

“I’m here for whatever you need.”

You nodded your head in satisfaction while Ivar noticed the subtle hint. Hvitserk had his entire attention rooted to you. There was a tension in his stare that didn’t sit well with Ivar.

He squinted at his brother and was about to make a remark when someone came up and whispered in his ear. Ivar’s face hardened at whatever news he got.

“Excuse me. I am needed elsewhere. My love, try not to cause any trouble.”

You smiled at Ivar and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“How can I promise such a thing?”

Ivar had left along with his group of followers who hardly ever left his side. So now it was just you and Hvitserk.

You watched Ivar leave and didn’t notice that Hvitserk had moved closer.

“Since when have you been married to my brother?”

You sighed and turned to face him.

“Since he asked me to be his wife.”

“To be queen? Is that it?”

You tilted your head at Hvitserk not liking his reason for you marrying his brother. There was a time you didn’t care for Ivar but he was relentless in trying to win you over.

He was sweet and patient vying for your affection. He showed you a different side and that’s what made you fall for him.

“I’m with Ivar because I love him, not because of a mere title. So whatever you’re getting at Hvitserk, don’t. If you’re not here to support Ivar, then what are you here for?”

Hvitserk looked around the place making sure no one was around. He licked his lips then contemplated what it’d mean if he said what he felt out loud. He was in his brother’s camp. He knew there’d be spies everywhere but he was willing to risk it.

“Why do you think I came? Rumors spread that you were going to marry my brother. I had to see it for myself.”

You shook your head at Hvitserk. He didn’t have to come all the way here just to figure that out.

“Then you wasted your time.” You moved closer to him so he could hear you better. “If Ivar were to hear you.” You didn’t finish as you allowed him to think on that thought alone. Ivar got jealous easily. He may have a better hold on his temper but that never stopped him from still acting out every now and then.

Hvitserk got closer to you, holding your hands in his.

“I don’t care. I came back for you.”

You quickly moved your hands away from his.

“Your feelings are misplaced.”

“Are they?”

You tilted your head while looking at Hvitserk.

“Yes. There’s nothing here, you understand? You are my brother by marriage, nothing more.”

You began to walk away not wanting to make a scene in case somebody were to walk by. He didn’t seem to get the hint as he kept up with your pace.

“Does Ivar know that you warmed my bed for months during the winter nights?”

You were quick to turn to him hitting his chest. “How dare you!” You whispered, harshly. “Even if he does know, he doesn’t mention it. You’re a fling of the past Hvitserk. Ivar is my present and future. I don’t expect anything but your loyalty to Ivar.”

Hvitserk allowed you to walk on but kept a safe distance and saw you enter a barn. He was about to enter but stopped upon hearing you speak to someone else. He snuck to the side of the barn and watched through the cracks.

Ivar was in there with you and he had his head placed on your shoulder. You had your hands rubbing down his arms in a soothing notion of comfort.

“It’s starting to ache.”

“I’m here. Remember, don’t focus on the pain. Just focus on me.”

You interlaced your fingers with his and kissed him. The barn was your place to be intimate with each other but whenever the pain would be too much for Ivar to bear, you’d simply lie with one another until he had to leave.

It was moments like this when just being in complete silence with each other was enough. Ivar didn’t have to do anything, his presence was enough. He had your heart completely.

“I have to go,” he said lowly.

“You’ve only just got here.”

“I’m king remember,” he smiled at you and cupped your face. “Know that there’s no greater prize than you as my queen.”

You smiled and kissed his lips one last time. Hvitserk watched and waited. Ivar would be busy so this was his chance with you. His hand hovered over the entryway. Against his better judgment, he entered.

He closed the doors behind him and looked at your surprised face.

“Get out of here, Hvitserk.”

Your heart started to race when he didn’t say anything back. His intentions weren’t good that much you could tell.

You watched him as you tried stepping around his large frame. He held his arm out blocking you.

“I’m not going to leave.”

“Then I’ll scream.” You tried once more evading him but he placed his hands on your arms holding you in place.

“I’m not going to leave you.”

You crinkled your brows at him, not understanding. He had no obligation to stay.

“There’s nothing here for you. Why can’t you just leave it all in the past?”

“I love you.”

You froze in your spot. Love wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“You’re in love with the idea of me,” you spoke in a softer voice this time. Perhaps he was still hurting from his past.

“Did Ivar ever tell you what he’s done to the women I’ve loved?” His voice sounded strained but he held firm. You knew of the losses he’s endured. It was a hard thought to accept that Hvitserk lost the women he’s cared for in his life. All gone at the hands of your husband.

“I’ve heard stories.” It was something you didn’t like but it was part of Ivar’s past.

Hvitserk let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t suppose he ever told you how exactly he rid of them.” He took your devote silence as his answer. “Tragic. Ivar’s killed every woman that I’ve ever loved, brutally. Every single one. Except you.”

There was a hushed silence after he spoke. His chest heaved and his eyes held a new profound fury in them. It was one that wasn’t for you but rather a fury that had been long pent up before he even came here.

This anger was for Ivar.

“So what? You’re trying to get even with him by messing with me?” You shrugged. “What Ivar did was wrong, we both know that. You’re brothers. Speak to him. He’ll listen, I know he will.”

Hvitserk shook his head. He already made up his mind. He didn’t want to have a civil conversation with his brother.

“I can give you everything Ivar can’t.”

You shook your head at him. It was hard to get your point across when he didn’t even bother to listen.

“Ivar is all I want. I love him. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Because nobody loves Ivar. They fear him and he uses everyone’s fear to his advantage.”

“Well not with me. He’s changed since the last time you saw him.”

“Really?” He scoffed in disbelief getting closer.

“Really,” you stated trying so hard to stand firm and appear confident in front of him. Usually, you’d be able to read Hvitserk but he was different. He was unpredictable now.

Hvitserk placed his hands on your lower back before pulling you forward to kiss you. He held your head to him so you wouldn’t pull away. You tried moving his hands from you until you kicked his shin and pulled back.

“Why’d you do that?!” You huffed watching as he was bent over with a smile on his face. “Just leave me alone.”

“Is that an order by the queen?” He mocked. You ignored him and left him.

It was starting to become evident to Hvitserk that your loyalty lies with Ivar.

He saw the way you proudly stood by his side and consoled him when his bones started to ache.

You were both good for each other but that wouldn’t stop him from trying again. His brothers all seemed to get the women they wanted. They married and were committed to only one. He wanted that now.

He’d be damned if he let his brother take this from him. Time had passed as Hvitserk was deep in thought. The incident earlier was fresh on his mind even with Ivar in front of him going over plans.

Ivar had stopped speaking when he saw his brother’s attention was diverted when pushing his food away. His men had informed him of the incident in the farm and he wasn’t too happy about it.

“I see the way you look at her.”

“Look at who?” Hvitserk questioned without looking at his brother. He knew Ivar was smart, he just wanted to play dumb to see what he knew so far.

Ivar scoffed and shook his head at his brother.

“The way you look at my wife. I can see in your eyes what you want to do to her.”

“She’s your wife Ivar. She’s yours. It doesn’t exactly matter what I think.”

Ivar nodded. “You’re right, she is my wife.” Ivar got closer to Hvitserk so he could whisper in his ear. “I don’t share. Frankly, I get jealous. I don’t like the way you look at my wife neither the impure thoughts you’re thinking.”

Hvitserk humorlessly chuckled. “What would you like me to do then, brother?”

“I’m not speaking to you as my brother. I’m speaking to you as your king. Leave my wife alone or so help me Hvitserk, I’ll kill you.”

“You forget that I am fighting for you.”

“You’re only here because you were curious how things were here. You jumped ship for her, not me. I know you’ve had her before so as far as I’m concerned you’re loyalty isn’t with me. At least, not completely.”

Hvitserk pushed his food aside and clasped his hands together turning his full attention to Ivar. Something changed in his eyes which made Ivar tense.

“You need me Ivar. Only I know how to get you a bigger army. I know the layout of the land you want to raid and I also know where we can get silver.”

Ivar’s lip twitched in amusement.

“I can achieve all of that without you, brother.”

This time it was Hvitserk’s turn to have a condescending smirk.

“No, you can’t. You know it and I know it. I have terms for each one I help you achieve.”

“Terms? What is it that you want Hvitserk?”

“I want your wife.”

Ivar tilted his head to the side. “No, you don’t.”

“I want her Ivar.”

“What are your terms? Come on,” he urged.

“My answer will remain the same. I want your wife.”

“You can’t have my wife. I can give you anything but her.”

Hvitserk took his sword out and pierced it into the ground. He twisted the handle turning it in the dirt.

“What you fail to realize Ivar is that you don’t really hold any real power. You don’t believe I would come here and make demands without actually having a plan of my own, do you?”

He looked up to see Ivar knitting his brow in confusion.

“What do you speak of?”

“I’ve allied myself with an army. We want the same as you. So we can either be allies or we can destroy everything you worked so hard to gain.”

“You infiltrated my camp?!” Ivar all but growled out.

Hvitserk smiled nodding his head once. He was calm which was a new look for him. Ivar was about to stand up with the help of his crutch but Hvitserk stood up and held his shoulder down.

“I’ll have your wife regardless of the decision you make. You’ve taken all that I love. Now I’ll take someone you love. You’re going to take me to her Ivar. I want you to tell her my terms.” Hvitserk lowered himself closer so Ivar could hear every word he was about to say. “I want you there when your wife gives herself to me willingly. I want you to watch as I fuck her from behind. I know how you get off just by watching.”

Hvitserk stood up straight then patted his brother’s shoulder before walking off.

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