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chuuyasheaven · 3 months

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RAAAAAAAAH idk if this counts as an ask but this specific scenario has been marinating in my mind for WEEKS and i think you might enjoy it :3c

to put it shortly ive been thinking of hot-headed reader who has trouble containing their temper (im not projecting whar do you mean) x chuuya (established relationship) that goes from angst to smut…. teehee

basically chuuya and reader begin arguing bc i hc that EVEN THOUGH CHUUYA IS EXTREMELY LOYAL AND DOTING TO THE ONES HE CARES ABOUT…. his temper often gets the best of him. Recently, chuuya had been very busy, and reader knew that, and continuously made an effort to help him in whatever ways they could, be it making dinner/lunch for him, offering to help with paperwork, etc. BUT thing is.. chuuya isn't really noticing this and treats them like a nuisance. He hasn't said anything outright insulting or upsetting, but he treats reader so differently, like he's silently blaming reader for his own temper and mood. He doesn't even call them by their nickname/petname anymore, everything feels so distant now.

So in an attempt to yk, NOT give up on their relationship, reader decides to confront chuuya about this in a calm manner, but he blindly lashes out and reader is NOT having ANY of it… cue a petty back and forth between him and reader, and reader gets out of the house to cool off and meanwhile chuuya finally comes to his senses. He tries to reason with reader when they come back, but they end up doing exactly what chuuya did to them, dismissing him and not accepting any form of half-assed apology. and so,,,,,, chuuya tries to make it up to reader,,,, if ikwym :3c

cue chuuya eating out reader like his life depends on it /jjj ((THIS IS SO LONG LMAO IM LITERALLY SOSORRY))

"You're not getting tired of me, are you?" // C. Nakahara

Summary. Recently, Chuuya has been kinda distant lately, mostly due to his work. This also resulted into you mostly overthinking— what if he isn't at the office all the time just like says? With this thought at the back of your mind, you tried to make an effort to be nice and caring as possible, only for Chuuya to decline the food you make him, denying any help you offer and barely spending time, which made the thoughts even more scary. When you can't take it anymore, you snap, at first he didn't get what your problem was until he thought about your earlier attempts. Now driven with guilt, Chuuya wants to assure you're the most important thing to him and makes up for his actions in the process.

Tags. Chuuya N. / afab! Reader, the summary pretty much already tells the story, angst to smut to fluff maybe, miscommunication, Reader prolly has anxiety, swearing, ooc! Chuuya, suspicions of cheating, Chuuya didn't notice at first but it's okay he'll make it up by licking pussy ^_^, might be cringe, short too idk, Reader might be KINDAAA based off me, petnames (baby, doll, darlin', sweetheart), oral sex (afab! receiving), praising, overstimulation? , p in v, who knows maybe i fucked up the ask and wrote smth else, for the first time ever porn WITH plot, might have a rushed end, might contain grammar errors, etc.

"Hey, Chuuya, wanna eat? I made your favorite!", you said with a nervous tone painted in your voice, which Chuuya didn't really notice. "No, baby, I can't. Sorry, maybe next time?", he answered without even exchanging looks with you, just doing his paperwork as if it was more important to him. It's been like this for several days already and you did nothing but trying to help Chuuya to make things easier, but he didn't budge. You slowly started to get annoyed and just walked away to eat by yourself, silently.

With all kind of negative thoughts which caused you to overthink. These "thoughts" didn't leave you alone since he's become more distant. What if he's losing interest? What if he's not always late in the office? Am I annoying him and a burden? After you finished eating, you just put his plate into the fridge and sat alone in your living room. Some while later, Chuuya came to see you for a few minutes before returning to work. He tired hugging you but you rejected it. Confused, he looks at you before asking. "What's wrong, doll?", did he seriously just ask you that? After pushing away for the— what? The millionth time for his work? At this innocent question you snapped, well, not really but you were beyond pissed.

When Chuuya told you that he was probably busy for the next days, you understood, at first. Knowing Chuuya, he could make some time for you in between, right? He was your really loyal, sweet and loving boyfriend, caring was he too, of course Chuuya should be able to make atleast a little time. And to his credit, he did, at first. He took breaks in which he spent time with you, cooking your food with you, and also other activities you guys normally do. But with time, Chuuya got more and more work and spent less and less time with you. You also understood at first, and trying to be a good girlfriend, you tried to take some work off his back by doing some paperwork with him, only to deny you. Don't get Chuuya wrong, he appreciated it, but he'd rather do it himself. You understood, leaving him be, but then he started to work late, staying behind in the office. That's when you started to overthink a little. You really didn't want to let you thoughts get to you, Chuuya is loyal and so loving he would never, right? Why was he even staying so late in the first place? Was it because you constantly asked him to help to the point he wanted to work in the office at work? These thoughts would slowly consume you later on, and instead of speaking with Chuuya about it, you kept it to yourself, you didn't want to annoy him anyways. It's been 3 days later and he didn't even say a single word to you, just work, work, work. Were you even Chuuya's top priority at this point? You just let him distance himself, in hope of him noticing your presence. All this did was make the situation worse, to the point where you cried yourself to sleep at night feeling unwanted. Did Chuuya finally notice? No, his head is still drowned in paperwork. "Chuuya, do you have time right now?" — "No. Go do something else, doll, I still have work left." His tone had some harshness to it, a hint of annoyance too. But maybe it was because of the stress because of work. "I could help him maybe.", you told yourself, you don't want him to overwork himself, has he even eaten today? "Well, maybe I could help with the paper—" — "You can't, so please go. I still have a lot left." — "But I could—" — "Just go, I'm busy. I can't really talk with you 'cause you're gonna distract me." What a reason, but you can't let him push you away now, can you? "Chuuya, please, I just wanna help you—" — "Just leave me the hell alone and do something else. Look, I love you for trying, I don't need your help the only this you're doing right now is distracting me." "If you say so." Was all you said before leaving his home office without saying another word.

That was the last time you talked to him during these days, but today, was the day you finally snapped at him for pushing you away all these days. And for what did he push you away? For trying to be nice and take some shit off his back? "What's wrong?! What's wrong is that you pushed me away for— what? A week and a half?!", you explained with anger behind your voice, which Chuuya wasn't familiar with. "Doll, I didn't push you away—", before he could speak you went on. "Stop with the bullshit. Whenever I tried helping with anything you always denied me! I can't do this anymore.", you said with a crack in your voice, now Chuuya slowly got pissed too, was it his fault for having an asshole of a boss?

"Do you think I want to do this? Who in the hell would participate in such work as a fucking joke?!", he said rather louder than you. "Your damn work seems to be more important that me, when was the last time you looked me in my face?", you stood up from the couch. "You wouldn't even know what to do!", "I could've if you took some fucking time to explain!", you shouted back, this is where Chuuya might have lost his temper. "Why the hell should I? You won't even understand when I tell you to leave! I'm sorry if the world doesn't fucking revolve around you, some people have other priorities?!", his voice got angrier and louder.

"Appearently I'm not your first priority, which is what I'm supposed to be?! I just wanted to spend time with you, but if I'm so fucking 'distracting' then I'll leave!", "Oh, so now you can take a damn hint?", he called after you tried to walk away. "What?", you stopped and turned around to face him. "Fuck you, then. I'm done, go do your work which is more important to me! All I was doing was to try—", "I don't give a fuck if you were "trying" shit! Just fucking don't because it won't matter anyway all you're being is annoying and desperate.", Chuuya shouted at you.

"So I'm annoying you now?", you said, your voice going quieter. "Yeah, with the way you were constantly up in my shit. You're not the most important thing right now, just stop trying to stress me more than you already are.", when he said that, you were facing the floor, fighting back the angry tears that were building up. "Alright, go do your work. I'll leave you to it.", you muttered, walking towards your door to take a walk. Chuuya just tsk'ed and went back to his room. It was quiet in the apartment, Chuuya was working on some papers left when he thought about your earlier argument. Wondering why you started it, he thought about what you said and slowly realized that what you said was true. He has gotten more distant, he was a little rude to you about leaving him alone and barely paid you and your attempts to help attention.

Knowing he probably fucked up in those past days, hurting your feelings and calling you 'annoying and desperate' probably caused the biggest guilt he ever experienced. Chuuya tried calling you but you hung up instantly. Okay, reasonable. The second time he called you took you're time to pick up. "Hey, baby—", "What do you want?", you asked coldly. "I thought you wanted to be left alone.", Chuuya could hear the pain in your voice. "Look, darling, you know I didn't mean what I said. It was the stress—", you really didn't wanna hear him right now, especially his excuses. "Sorry, Chuuya but I don't really wanna talk right now, since I'm annoying you anyways, talk to you later.", before getting another word out, you hung up. Chuuya just took deep sigh and thought of ways to apologize and make it up to you.

You first left at 6pm but returned at 8pm, you were a little tired after walking a lot so you looked forward to lay in your shared bed, alone again probably. You changed into Chuuya's shirt just like you have been these last several days for some missing closure, not forgetting your shorts before you sat on the bed to be on your phone. Not even five minutes later, the door creaked open, revealing Chuuya with a guilt driven face. "What?, you asked him once again. "Can we talk, please?", you just stared at him before nodding. He sat down on the bed, patting the space next to him, you moved to the edge of the bed to sit down next to him.

"I'm sorry,", Chuuya started. "I'm sorry for neglecting you these past days, didn't mean to make you feel like a burden.", "So you finally got the hint?", you ask sarcastically. "Baby, I mean it. I shouldn't have priotized my work over you and pushed you away during it. I never wanted to feel unimportant.", he held your hand now, gently caressing it. "The stress made me act this way probably and i shouldn't have lashed out at you. You forgive me?", your gaze was still as cold. Chuuya just pulled you close to him, finally after a week, this made you realize that you missed him more than you thought.

Chuuya stroked your back, kissing your forehead first, then your cheeks, and lastly, your lips— those lips he hasn't kissed for something which felt like an eternity. He just wanted to make it up to you one way or another. "Lay down, dollface, wanna make you feel good.", Chuuya said to you while he was holding your chin. "I haven't fully forgiven you yet, y'know that, right?", looking away while you said this, Chuuya just had to chuckle. "You're gonna when I'm done with you, trust me.", you rolled your eyes and just laid back like he wanted. Chuuya moved himself between your legs, removing the shorts and panties blocking his path and letting your legs hang over his shoulders.

"No need to tense up, pretty, jus' relax,", he whispered, pressing kisses to your thighs, never breaking eye contact. Those kisses started to get closer and closer to your cunt, which was waiting for his tongue. Once his mouth got to it's destination, Chuuya started his work. He ate you out like his life depended on it, but he made sure he won't make a big mess. You where quietly moaning, trying to not be heard by him. "Why so quiet, sweetheart?", he lightly teased, you just looked away again. "C'mon, look at me. I wanna make you feel good, remember that?", you looked back at him, your cheeks were slightly flushed and lust was filled in your eyes. Chuuya dived back in and kept his eye contact with you, looking at you while you try to bite down your moans. This only made him suck on your clit, which also broke your silence.

It didn't take long for you to finish with Chuuya looking at you while pleasuring you. As you came on his tongue, still breathing unsteady, Chuuya got up between your legs. "You're so perfect like this, darlin'.", he whispered before kissing you, you could loosely taste yourself on his tongue. While he was kissing you, he freed his cock out of his pants. Chuuya stopped kissing you for a second to insert his dick inside you. He stroked your folds with his tip to catch some slick and entered almost easily, as if your cunt was sucking him in. "Fuck, I forgot how good you felt around me. Forgive me for neglecting this perfect— oh, fuck!", he cut himself off by starting to thrust.

If you weren't loud earlier, you definitely were now. Chuuya was kissing you while being inside you, thrusting while his lips were on yours, whispering "I love you"s and apologies to you. "You're so good for me, fuck— I love you so much.", his thrusts got sloppier, meaning he was close. Your arms were thrown around his neck as you threw your head back, you could feel your upcoming orgasm. "Chuuya— shit, 'm so close, please don't stop!", "Wasn't planning on it, you feel way too good for that, baby.", as your cunt clenched down around him, he surprisingly moaned, instantly cumming inside you. He thrusted once more and that's when you came undone a second time.

"So. . did you change your mind, doll?"

@moth-of-mythos // @pretendtobesick04 // @alastors-deerest // @shi-nakano // @samutoru // @munnaitorei // @sjsnsidream // @shuwyyx // @skelitea // @xaviawinter // @cvidy // @cherrytreegrove // @skk-lover // @pe4rl-diver // @walking-simp

Sorry if ur tag didn't work 😕 also sorry if I fucked the storyline up

#chuuya'sheaven ♡#chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara smut #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd smut #chuuya angst

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skalfy · 4 months

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A Reputation for Good Taste

Misa x Reader, ~3.5k words, part 2/?

Part 1 here

Another part! Again, deeply unproofread, so apologies for any errors.

“I’m sorry, what??” Your friend made a show of rolling over to look directly at you where you lay, bundled in her bed. “You’re telling me that Alma cheated on you, then you drove her mistress home and somehow ended up seducing her into giving you free tickets to a football match? Actually, I’m not surprised about the Alma thing, sorry, but the rest is beyond me.”

“Maya!” You blushed hard. “None of that is what I said! Well, except for the Alma thing. I did not seduce María, and please don’t call her Alma’s mistress. All I did was drive her home and probably make her uncomfortable by crying about how I’m a bad aunt. She definitely only offered the tickets because she feels bad that my girlfriend cheated on me with her. It was so obvious that she thought she needed to do something to apologise.”

“If all she felt was guilty about Alma I hardly think she would go to the lengths she did, but out of courtesy to your broken heart,” she fixed you with a look, “I won’t argue about this right now.”

“Thank you, Maya.” You mumbled, then, “I don’t even know if my heart is broken. I’m angry at Alma for doing something so stupid to both of us, but it’s really been getting worse for a while, hasn’t it?”

“Oh honey, it has, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” She lifted the covers between you. “Now come here and let me cuddle you.”

You rolled over and let her pull you against her chest, relaxing into the comfort of your friend’s arms.

“I think my heart broke a while ago, but I really wish we would talked instead of this.” She just squeezed you tighter and you drifted to sleep.

You awoke the next morning alone in Maya’s bed, the sounds of her in the kitchen with Marc, her boyfriend, faintly audible from through the closed door. Your first thought was about Alma, and whether she had bothered to say anything to you since you left the flat. You quickly found your phone and unlocked it, opening the messages app. At the top there was an unread message, but it wasn’t from Alma. You tapped it open anyway.

María: Hi, good morning! I hope you are feeling okay and that your friend is taking care of you. I talked to the club and the tickets will be no problem and no cost. I’ll give you the details later :)

María: Do you have a jersey for the game?

Maria: It’s El Clásico, you have to wear one.

You felt a blush rise as you read the first message. It was sweet, but you were also a little embarrassed to think that María knew you needed taking care of. You quickly typed out a reply.

Me: Thank you so much, you have saved my aunt reputation and Luisa’s trip! And I am okay, thank you for asking. Between my old friend and a certain new friend who has gone out of her way to do me a big favor I’m feeling better.

You wrote and deleted the last line several times before hitting send, unsure how María would take it. You didn’t have to wait long to find out, the little dots that showed she was typing popped up after just a few seconds.

María: I think your new friend would be very glad to hear that, and glad to hear she is your friend, even if the circumstances you met in were not ideal.

María: You didn’t answer my question, do you have a jersey?

There was no resisting the grin that spread on your face as you read her message.

Me: Luisa definitely has a jersey, I got her one for Christmas.

María: I didn’t ask if Luisa had one, I asked if you did ;)

Me: Hmm, I think I have an old Barça one lying around somewhere.

You figured if she worked for worked for Real Madrid she must have a healthy animosity for the rival club, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun about it.

María: We will discuss that later, but I might let it slide if it’s an Alexia kit. Sounds like you are in need of something to wear on Saturday. Green or white?

Me: Green?

María: Yes, it will bring out your eyes. Good choice!

María: Meet me for coffee? I will give you the jersey. Before you ask, it doesn’t cost me, I promise :)

Your head was spinning, but somehow you didn’t really mind. You weren’t about to turn down the offer for coffee, if for no other reason than to buy María acoffee as a thank you.

Me: I’d love to. Let me know when and where, I am off work today so anytime works.

She sent a link to a cute looking coffee shop and said to meet her there at 3 before signing off to get back to some work. You were still giving your phone a bewildered smile when Maya opened the door to her room to check in on you.

“My god, please don’t tell me Alma has sent you some ridiculous make up text that has you falling back under her spell!” You looked up at her words, startled and confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the lovesick smile you were just giving your phone when I walked in.” You scoffed in response to Maya’s words, but still felt a sudden urge to keep your conversation with María to yourself until you had a better idea of what was going on.

“I’m just smiling at the death march sightseeing tour mum has the family on today. I was planning to meet up with them, but the play by play is equal parts funny and frightening.” It wasn’t really a lie, you knew your mother well enough to know that your prediction was probably true, and you really were going to meet up with them. It just wasn’t exactly what had you smiling, or the afternoon plan you were most looking forward to.

Maya looked like she might say something more, but a particularly loud clang from the kitchen had her hurrying quickly back out. Alone again, you decided it was long time to get yourself ready for the day.

Dressed and showered, you caught Maya and Marc as both were headed out the door to work. Maya had instructed you to be back for dinner with the two of them, but otherwise you had free reign and your spare key. Sipping the cup of coffee one of them had left on the counter for you, you pulled out your phone and called your mum.

A short itinerary run-down later, you had plans to meet up outside their hotel and a half day of sightseeing between you and your unexpected coffee plans. That left only one other call to make, and it was one you didn’t want hanging over your head any longer. You dialed the number and listened as it rang through three times before you heard the other end pick up. When she didn’t say anything, you spoke first.

“Alma.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” She answered, the guilt unmistakeable in her voice.

“I’m sorry, too.” You sighed. “It was a shitty thing to do, though. I didn’t deserve that.”

“You didn’t.”

“Did you want me to see? You had to have known I wouldn’t be out that late.” You couldn’t help but ask. Her silence was all the answer you needed. “Okay. I’ll stay at Maya’s another night, but can you have your things out after that?” Thankfully, she had moved in with you only a few months back when her lease ended. Almost everything was yours, and you wouldn’t have the added insult of losing your flat along with your girlfriend.

“Yeah, I’ll pack everything today. I really am sorry.” You could hear her holding back tears, and you were struck by a pang of affection and sympathy for her. As cruel as cheating on you was, the last few months had been hard for both of you, and falling out of love with her first hadn’t been particularly kind either.

“Thank you, Alma. I hope things work out for you.”

“You too. I’ll miss you.” She ended the call, and you felt the weight on your chest ease.

It had been a long morning with your family, but you were immensely happy to have spent the time with them. Mum’s heavy-handed tourguiding made everyone laugh, but she had done her research well, and you were glad for it. Even after living in Madrid for three years, you still hadn’t taken the time to see all the sights. Plus, everything was more enjoyable with Luisa dragging you along to point out the best bits. You walked double the steps, but it was worth it to be honored as the most interesting adult, and you loved any opportunity to hear more about what her latest activities and interests were.

Having arrived a few minutes early to the coffee shop, you were lost in reflection on your family’s antics when the light touch of a hand on your elbow pulled you into the present. You jumped a little at the contact, and felt the hand grip a little tighter to steady you. It only took you a moment to look up and catch the owner’s warm brown eyes. As soon as you recognized her, María tugged you forward gently into a hug, and you sunk into the contact.

“Hi.” She said, releasing you to arm’s length.

“Hi, how are you?” You responded a little breathlessly as her hands finally fell away from your arms.

“Better now.” She answered you with a smile. “Have you been here before?” You shook your head no, returning her smile. “Good. It’s my favorite and I’m glad I get to introduce you to it. Come!” She pulled the door open and gestured for you to step inside. Stepping through the entrance, you were hit immediately by the rich smell of coffee, and you paused to appreciate it. You looked over your shoulder as María entered behind you and spoke with joking reverence.

“I think I’m in love already.” She chuckled and nudged you ahead with her own shoulder.

“You haven’t even tried it yet, keep walking!”

The two of you approached the counter and greeted the barista. You inclined your head to María to order first, and after a moment’s hesitation, she requested a café con leche Before the barista could give her a total, you ordered your cortado, card already in hand to cover both. You turned to look at the woman next to you and she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Any pastries you recommend?” You asked, still looking at her.

“Everything is good, but my favorite is probably the pear tart.” She answered, and you looked back to the barista.

“One of those too, please.” She nodded, then recited the total and let you hand her your card. After ringing you up, she retrieved your pastry and passed it over on a plate with two forks.

You followed María to a quiet corner with an empty table. She pulled out one chair before walking to the other side and sitting down.

“Can’t risk you dropping our tart.” She said with a wink when you gave her a look. You rolled your eyes, but still felt a blush as you set the plate down carefully and took your seat. Her fingertips quickly snagged the edge of the plate, sliding it to her side of the table. It didn’t exactly bother you, but with her earlier chivalry you weren’t expecting her to immediately lay claim to the shared treat. You watched as she industriously carved out a bite with one of the forks, clearly taking care to perfect the crust to filling ratio and center a perfect slice of pear on the wedge she cut. Her focus was charming, but your mouth was nearly watering waiting for your turn.

“You have to have the perfect first bite, my reputation for having good taste could be on the line here if you aren’t impressed.” She spoke as she finally lifted her fork, extending it toward you with a shy smile. There was a burst of warmth in your chest as you realized the care she had taken was for you, even if it was only to prove she made the best choice. You opened your mouth and closed your eyes, leaning forward slightly to meet her over the table. Her free hand was loosely cupped under the fork to catch any crumbs, and it brushed your chin gently as you closed your lips over the forkful of tart. You tilted your head back as María pulled the fork away, instinctively raising your own hand as well. The back of her hand was soft where your palm met it, and she let it rest against yours for a moment before pulling away. Her trailing fingers were far from your mind, however, as soon as you began to chew the bite of tart. The flavor was divine, sharp and sweet and fresh all at once, paired with a perfectly buttery-flaky-crisp crust. María let out a burst of laughter and a fist pump at the wide-eyed nod you gave her when she asked if her reputation was secure, which in turn had you covering your mouth as you tried to swallow through a growing smile.

A barista calling out your orders had María quickly standing, waving off your offer to help, and gave you a chance to sneak a second bite and collect your thoughts for a moment. You felt silly for being so charmed by María’s kindness, from her it seemed more like second nature. Her actions, while some were a little over the top, felt like they came from a combination of genuine thoughtfulness and her desire to make you laugh. It struck you after a second, you felt taken care of. Not in the big-gesture way that Alma always wanted you to exhibit, hinting at big gifts and dramatic arrivals at her office to sweep her away to Ibiza, but something much gentler. It was nice, you realized-- both to be taken care of and for the acts to be so unpretentious.

“For you,” a hand touched your shoulder and your cortado was placed in front of you, “and for me!” María set her own cup down and took her seat, smiling and waving her hand dismissively as you thanked her.

The conversation flowed once again between the two of you, and you enjoyed it even more than you had the previous evening in your car. You managed to draw out the tart, each taking smaller and smaller bites until finally María nudged the plate toward you and insisted you take the final piece. You brought out a chuckle from her by solemnly confessing that you’d taken an extra bite while she fetched the coffees, and she happily stole the plate back to finish it off herself. With the food out of the way, you were both focused on each other, and you felt the heat of her gaze as she listened carefully to everything you said.

You covered a wide variety of topics, learning about her family and friends, her love for music, and the meaning behind some of her tattoos. She didn’t speak much about her work, but you could tell she was driven and passionate. You shared plenty in return, her open interest in what you said and thoughtful questions leading you down plenty of tangents, including a retelling of your family’s antics that had you both laughing. The two of you were so engrossed in the conversation, that it wasn’t until your phone started ringing that you realized how much time had passed.

“It’s the friend I’m staying with, I better answer.” You told María, who gave you a thumbs up as you stood to move a few paces from the table before you answered. “Hi Maya.”

“Girl, where are you?” She asked, skipping over any greeting. You looked down at your watch and realized it was after six. Not time for dinner yet, but Maya was no doubt expecting you to be there when she returned from work. You caught María’s eyes on you and rolled your own dramatically at her as you replied.

“Sorry Mum, I’m out with a friend and we lost track of time. I’ll be back soon. Do you need me to pick anything up on the way?” You could very nearly hear Maya’s eyes narrowing on the other end of the line.

“What friend? I know all your friends, they’re my friends. Unless…” You winced as she trailed off, realizing you didn’t want to have this conversation within earshot of María. “You’re with Alma? Or Alma’s m—”

“Okay! We can talk about this later!” You cut her off firmly, feeling your face heat as you wondered how audible Maya’s voice was from your phone speaker. “Also,” you continued, thinking it might be best to clarify once and for all, “I ended things with Alma officially this morning, so safe to assume I’m not with her.” Maya’s honest-to-god cheer was a bit embarrassing, but you did feel a little like cheering yourself, so you chose not to mention it.

“I’ll expect all the details when you get here. Be safe until then, love you!”

“Love you too.” You ended the call, looking down at your phone a few moments longer than necessary before raising your head to look at María. She had an unreadable expression, but quirked an eyebrow at you when you met her eyes.

“Your friend seems very fun.” She said, then after a pause, “sorry to hear about Alma.” It felt like she was giving you the option to choose whether you wanted to talk about it, which you appreciated.

“I’m not really sorry,” you said, “it should have happened a long time ago.” María kept her gaze on you, not interjecting, face carefully neutral. It reminded you of when you first looked at her in your lobby. In a quieter voice, you continued. “I don’t wish it did, though.” María’s easy smile was familiar to you already, but her lips didn’t curve this time. You felt a strong urge to leave quickly, or even better, for the floor to open up beneath you. Closing your eyes, you heard the chair scrape as she stood. How predictably thoughtful of her to leave you to recover from your embarrassment. Just as you listened for her departing footsteps, you were caught off guard by two strong arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. Your eyes opened in surprise, but it didn’t take you long to squeeze just as tightly back, relief coursing through you. María’s face pressed into the side of your neck, and you felt her speak, but the words were too muffled to hear. The two of you held each other close a while longer, before she pulled back enough to look at you.

“This might be the strangest friendship I’ve had, but I’m so glad I met you.” She said, smiling softly. You returned her smile, and couldn’t resist saying,

“maybe Alma did both of us a favor in the end.” She gave your shoulders a squeeze in lieu of answering, but spoke after a moment.

“I had better send you back to your friend before she grounds you, I would hate for you to miss the game because you aren’t allowed to leave your room for a week.” It made you laugh, but the possibility is more likely than you’d like to admit. Maya had a greater chance of grounding you than your own mother did, in all honesty. It’s enough to spur you into action, and, after returning your dishes to the counter, the two of you made your way out of the cafe. You hugged one more time, then parted ways, but a shout of your name had you turning around before you made it to your car.

“I almost forgot to give you this!” María held out a folded piece of bright green fabric to you. “It’s the whole reason I dragged you out here after all.” You took it from her and unfolded it, quickly realizing it was a Real Madrid jersey, though not in the colors you were used to seeing.

“I thought you were joking when you said green!” She laughed in response to your confusion and explained that it was a goalkeeper’s jersey, hence the bright color.

“I brought a regular one as well if you prefer.” She added, sounding a little uncertain.

“No way, this is much better,” you held it up to your chest, “does it bring out my eyes like you said?” She leaned in a little closer, reaching out to lift the fabric up to your cheek.

“Absolutely.”

That evening after you returned to Maya’s and took a longer look at the jersey you sent María a text with a picture of the back of the jersey.

Me: This Misa better be good if I’m wearing her name on my back

María: Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let you wear her name if she wasn’t

#woso x reader #misa rodriguez x reader #woso imagine #woso community #woso #woso fanfics

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unoriginal-and-dumb · 2 months

Note

i need to know everything about your infected like. now

Okay Dokay! (I’m gonna say everything that comes to mind I might miss stuff or repeat previously said things but I love never re-reading what I wrote)

God I got a lot to say sorry, I put this at the bottom too but if anyone ever has specific questions I will be (very) happy to answer them!!!

Infected is, at face value, pretty good at kinda acting like Kasper. Which is why nobody else really seems too bothered by his switch up besides Lampert. Lampert knew him best and for REAL so, well yea you know. He would know when his best friend is acting wrongggg

I think that the virus was inside the roomba that infected has in their apartment. The irony is too perfect, because I don’t imagine Kasper being gods cleanest fella so the idea of the thing that basically wiped out his consciousness coming from something he got to try and start being cleaner. I think he would’ve gotten the roomba because Lampert was basically begging him to do something to try and fix his fuck ass apartment

The virus itself feeds off of consciousness, it overwhelms and takes over the pervious one then kinda produces a shitty copy of it so it can continue feed off any form of consciousness that could’ve been

Infected MAY have the iq of wall paper. Stupid and dumb.

Infected kinda just has like 0 form of self preservation because the virus itself doesn’t really… understand it I guess? It’s more of like a “FEELING PAIN IS A WASTE OF TIME!” Although it wouldn’t just be pain-centric. He just kinda does fuck-all because it’s fun or everyone else does it or whatever

The error pattern on his arm (and other parts of his body tbh) can spread to other things via touch, but it doesn’t really just stay there

The virus is kinda weird because it’s like. Very much digital but it also is clearly affecting him physically? So it kinda just. Is both things at once I dunno magic elevator magic virus yellow person with dot eyes and no nose what can I say.

Infected is a flat and static character, he is unchanging as is, he is only the face value personality of Kasper, it’s like trying to hold a conversation with a half baked answer machine. After a while he kinda just starts repeating things.

Infected is friends with Split and Poob, as mentioned on the wiki. It’s not even remotely comparable to what Kasper and Lampert had though (😢). They are more of like yea let’s invite Infected over to a party since he kinda seems to just stand in the corner and be a freak. They enjoy Infected’s presence, but again it’s like speaking to an answer machine after awhile

Kasper would frequently change up his look, keeping a few things like his hat always but he was like constantly trying out different colors and whatever clothing stuff, but when he became Infected he kind of jsut got stuck on the tough guys wear pink shirt era (going full npc, wearing literally nothing else because ah yes this is Kasper and I am “Kasper”)

Almost nothing truly gets to infected, yea he’s upset about pop tart but it’s all very shallow and more played off as a joke. Bros life is all sunshine and rainbows wait till he hears about taxes 😭

^ however, it’s not impossible for things to really break through for them. Albeit really just not that likely, they could be made SUPER MEGA UPSET! It’s times like that when he actually seems to have even just undertones of Kasper existing (which is why, despite Lampert HATING infected, I think there would be a time he shoves those feelings aside and tries to comfort infected because that’s still his best friends face)

Infected cannot stand be called Kasper. He ignores it for a bit but after a while he lashes out pretty badly. To be fair though, having 0 memories of someone but everyone else claiming you are them is kinda weird

Infected (specifically) would sound like cooper2723, shitty mic and all

Infected skates like skate 3. He does that speed glitch every time and nobody gets it. He also sometimes rolls full force into a curb and just flies off the skate board (he forgort)

Eczema rep as mentioned before, the stupid error texture is super extremely itchy, but that’s also why it’s spread so much because he fucking scratches the hell outta it. It also just hurts in general (LIKE IF U HAD SAND PAPER. ON UR SKIN. ALWAYS.) but again 0 sense of self preservation bruh don’t give a fuck

He wears the arm warmer to try and hide the error texture. He consciously does not really have a reason but it is in order for the virus to try and be more discreet. Not many people have really taken a notice or care at least so it’s kinda working..? (Not rlly it’s pretty obvious)

Infected HATES unpleasant a blood curdling amount. It doesn’t matter if unpleasant does literally nothing they will blame EVERYTHING on unpleasant. Uh oh bad weather? It’s that fucking gradient’s fault

Infected sometimes just starts tweaking. Like straight Blair witching or honestly even like the boss in s2 of smiling friends. He goes right back to normal but he just does that sometimes (it’s because there’s another backseat driver getting pissed off and existing again before going bed bye go the next however long)

Kasper had pretty bad anger issues but he was able to not start genuinely losing it. Infected however. Infected is gods happiest/angriest soldier

He could be a real smiler, a real big yaaaayyyyyy typa fella one second but one thing sets him off and he is a nightmare to be around. We talking cod lobby throwing shit hair pulling slur yelling type stuff

Infected lives on energy drinks.

They also don’t really sleep, it’s seen as a waste of time when he could be saying terrible things online or skateboarding off a building. Only real time he does anything that a normal human NEEDS to do is when he’s like sims 4 forced to (I.e straight up passing tf out on the floor)

I made this up because I wanted BOTH but his stupid ass SNOT, when it’s green that’s just icky snot when it’s pink that’s not snot or blood but a malicious 3rd option (the error infection thing, although it is kind of just like blood for him at least)

Infected doesn’t really realize that people change appearance over time and that’s like normal so he may do absolutely fuckall half the time but he does maintain appearance (hair cut/dye clothes) and stuff very well because they think they have to look exactly like how Kasper did at the point of infection

Errr he’s aroace :) and trans :) yah :) because kasper is :) 🧡💛🤍🩵💙🧡💛🤍🩵💙🧡💛🤍🩵💙🧡💛🤍🩵💙 yaaaayyyyyyyyyyy

Infected’s eyes actually are white, that’s not just stylistic choice. Or at least they kinda catch the light the way a cat’s does. He is very very eerie in the dark because of this. The error pattern is unaffected by lighting (because. It’s an error texture.) so that combined with white ass eyes and some guy who stands and moves like something else puppeteering a human is… eerie.

He’s Wasian! Korean-American specifically. He does have a Korean name but really just doesn’t go by it ever

This isn’t Infected-centric but relating to Kasper, he grew up mainly with his mom cuz his dad peaced tf out (lol). He did like his dad though, which is why he wore the hat all the time, at this point though he doesn’t really care about his dad and just wears it because it’s his fucking hat and he does not take that shit off

Infected constantly acts out of it, extreme fever style. Weird forgetful says nonsense half the time and just laughs at everything when he’s not busy smiling creepily

Infected is indifferent on everyone, he doesn’t particularly hold grudges (he just forgets about any arguments in general or ignores them) he only really hates unpleasant

He isn’t really enemy to anyone due to the infection trying to get a good way to spread (if ur around a bunch of people all the time, I mean likeeee)

There’s other things but this is very long and I dunno, if anyone has specific questions I’d be happy to answer!!!

#regretevator

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intotheseas · 2 months

Note

Hello I just discovered you and I'm in love with your writing!

Since you said that requests are open I thought I might send you my idea :)

So basically I'm all for some angst and comfort, and I'd love if you wrote a fic about GN! or F!MC who gets hurt and goes to the Undercroft to try and tend to their wounds (they're not very good at this) and basically hide the fact that they're hurt (and I mean hurt-hurt, like a giant gush in their side or something) and after dressing the wounds and hoping for the best (cause they're really bad at healing magic) Ominis walks in and meets them there, so they act normal but he still senses that something's wrong so he tries to coax it out of them, but they stick to their "everything's fine" so he gives up and just tells them to sit on the couch with him but when they move they get a sharp pain (from the big gush in their side) and basically fall to the floor with a pained whimper. Ominis quickly springs into action to help them and is all frantic about what happened and asking them but they're too hurt and so he tries to help them but since the damage is mostly on their side they're reluctant about letting him (they're flustered because they have a crush on him and they've never even kissed anyone) but he's so comforting and you know waiting for consent and basically so nice and they eventually let him help.

It can be spicy if you want, but it doesn't have to be!

Also don't feel pressured into writing it, I know that inspiration comes and goes and that you have a life of your own.

Again thank you so much and have an amazing day/night ♡♡♡

PS sorry if I made any grammatical errors, English is not my first language 😅

Hi, hi, hello! :) Your english is excellent, no need to worry! And I am so honoured you like my writing, holy crap. Thank you! Sorry this took a few days, I had do a lot of rewriting, just wasn't super happy with it. I'm still kinda unhappy with it but didn't want to keep you waiting!

You gave me permission to make it spicy and I did lol. I hope you like this. :) As a cis-female I wrote it from a F!MC POV, I'm not sure I could do a GN POV justice. I hope that's okay. I was HEAVILY inspired by the following two songs, so feel free to listen if they're to your taste! Counting, by Heavens, and Blood on the Moon by Raquet Club. Tags: hurt/comfort, blood (not sexually though), graphic depiction of injury, unprotected piv, smut, comfort, first time, first kiss, soft ominis gaunt, protective ominis gaunt, dominis (just a lil bit), biting

Summary: Sage is gathering Horklump juice in the forest when she's injured badly by a poacher. She only has one Wiggenweld on her, just enough to let her stagger back to the Undercroft. She bandages herself up and hopes for the best. When Ominis drops by and notices she's badly hurt, he breaks down her walls and convinces her to allow him to treat her. Once he's fixed her, years of unresolved sexual tension boil over. Characters are 18.

Read here on AO3 or below the break!

Soil, lush grass, damp moss, rotting leaves. Sage’s nose fills with the scents of the forest as she pants, grips her side in agony. Stupid, fucking stupid, she thinks. She doubles over and sinks to the ground, groaning. The dirt scrapes against her cheek as she curls into herself, pain burning through her like fire. Her hands become sticky with her own blood as it seeps through the thin material of her jumper.

So fucking stupid. She’d come to the forest to search for Horklump juice, needed to replace her low stock of Wiggenweld. Ran into a poacher, cast diffindo without thinking. They’d reflected it at her and disapparated. Her own spell slashed through her, cut her down. Now she lays in the foetal position, her blood mixing with the dirt. Sage pats her pockets, feeling for any stray vials. There's only one. She downs the Wiggenweld in one motion, tosses it aside. It’s enough to allow her to stand, to hobble to the nearest floo point.

She stumbles out into the castle, gritting her teeth through piercing pain. Her ragged breathing and muffled groans fill the empty corridor, echo off the walls like they're mocking her. Sage staggers to the Undercroft. She needs to be alone, assess the damage. There’s no way she’s going to Nurse Blainey, no way she’ll explain why she was in the Forbidden Forest so late in the evening. Like she needs detention right now.

Stupid.

The iron bars screech as they rise, revealing the musty room that’s been a hideout for almost three years. Lurching, she makes her way to the box she keeps on the table. Fishes out a roll of bandages and lifts her jumper gingerly. It’s already soaked. “Scourgify,” she mutters, removing the worst of it. The iron tang nauseates her, or maybe it’s the blood loss. Sage roots around in the crate for a bottle. Essence of dittany, she knows there’s some in here somewhere. She pulls the bottle out, curses. There’s only two drops left in the dropper, not nearly enough to deal with this gash. Fuck it. She spreads what’s left on the deep cut, hissing as it burns into her flesh like little licks of lightning.

The wound remains, but the bleeding seems to stop, at least. If she had any talent at healing magic she’d try it, but she knows better. The last attempt resulted in even more injury. She'd ended up in the hospital wing for a week, all over a simple splinch. No, the dittany and bandages will have to do. She glances toward the door and removes her jumper, tossing it over the crate. She wraps the bandages around her middle, snug against the throbbing gash. It’s around an inch deep, she thinks. Not severe enough to hit any major organs or arteries.

Sage waves her wand, conjures a chair and sinks into it. Mutters “scourgify” again, cleans her jumper and pulls it over her head. The chair cushions her, needed relief as she pants from her exertion and blood loss. She’ll find a Wiggenweld in a bit, she only needs to…rest. Her head lolls over the back of the chair.

The bars rise again, and Sage snaps to attention. It's Ominis, likely seeking some solitude after classes. His tie is loosened, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Shit.

“Sage? Thought I'd find you here.” He strolls toward the back of the room and settles into a large, dark sofa. He lounges, stretching his lithe body like a cat. “How long have you been here?”

Act normal. Sage has never been good at showing her weaknesses, not even to someone she trusts as much as Ominis. “Not long. Maybe half an hour.” Her voice trembles, and of course he notices.

“Sage? Are you alright?” He moves his head toward her, sniffs the air. “Do I smell blood?”

Fuck.

“I’m fine, Omi. Only tired. I went to the forest to gather some potion ingredients. Maybe you’re smelling the dirt.” She’s breathing a little harder now, even speaking is tiring her.

His eyes narrow. “Right, because dirt smells like blood. Are you quite sure you’re okay?”

“I am. It's been a long day.”

She knows he doesn’t believe her, doesn’t know what to do about it. Despite his lack of sight, Ominis is perceptive to almost a fault. It’s a fucking miracle he hasn’t caught on to how she feels. The massive crush she's had on him ever since he confronted her outside the Undercroft.

Something about the way he yelled at her that day marked her, forever changed her taste in men. Kind of fucked up, but she supposes it doesn't matter. Ominis is far kinder than his guarded exterior lets on. After they overcame their initial encounter and worked together to save Sebastian from ruining his life, he's been nothing but kind to her. Devout, even. Like she's something he wants to protect. Is that why her heart is racing? Sage hisses, holding her side. The throbbing is getting worse.

“Sage? Come here.” It isn’t a request.

Her legs move against her stubborn will, over to the sofa, sinking into the cushions on his left. He faces her, his brow furrowed. “You’re hurt.” It isn’t a question.

“I…I got a scratch when I was in the forest,” she says through gritted teeth. Her breathing is heavier now, and she’s feeling woozy. She tries to shift and cries out, the pain sharp again. Sage doubles over, groaning.

“Liar,” he says. He pulls out his wand, passes it over her. “Sage, don’t be an idiot. Let me help you, for Merlin’s sake. You know I’m good with healing magic. Why are you being so stubborn?”

She pulls back. “It’s in an intimate spot, Omi.”

“And? You’re hurt. What does it matter?”

Sage pants. The room's spinning around her, vertigo slams over her like a wave. She collapses sideways, her head lands on Ominis’ lap. “Okay,” she groans. “I’m hurt.”

He stiffens. He’s not sure where to put his hands, settles on her back. “Sage, if you don’t let me help you, we’ll need to go to Nurse Blainey. I assume you’re avoiding her for a reason. Please, can I tend to your wound? I can smell the blood from here.” His voice is urgent, bordering on begging.

Her breaths are shallow, fast. She can’t tell if it’s from their proximity or from her injury. “It’s on my side. Here.” She guides his hand, rests it over her injury. “I wrapped it, applied a couple drops of dittany. That’s all I had other than an old Wiggenweld.”

Ominis pauses. “Sage, I need to lift your jumper. Is that okay with you?”

She nods, whimpers her affirmation. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He raises her jumper up with one hand, holding his wand over her with his other. He takes great care to lift it to just below her bra, preserve her modesty. Ominis’ hands are gentle as they unwrap the bandage. He passes his wand over the gash, concern etched in his face. “Worse than I feared,” he murmurs, “but I can fix this.” Grabbing his bag, he fishes out a couple vials. “Sage, these are green, right? Wiggenweld?”

She lifts her head, peers at them. “Yes.”

“Drink them. Now.” Again, not a request.

She tilts the vials into her mouth, gulping down the potion. Sage hisses, feeling the dizziness evaporate. She breathes more evenly, her heart slows to a steady pace.

Ominis runs his fingers through her hair. “Well done,” he murmurs, his voice kind. “I still need to close the cut. You’re lucky I know this spell.” His wand moves above her in a curious twirling motion, and thrice he says, “Vulnera Sanentur.”

A small gasp escapes Sage’s lips. Her skin knits together, and within seconds there’s nothing left of her stupidity except the faintest of scars. She sags, the absence of pain finally allowing her to relax.

Ominis traces his hands over her side, checking for any leftover blood or open wounds. Nothing. He breathes a sigh of relief, doesn’t remove his hands. “I don’t know how many times I’ve begged you to be more careful, Sage.” His voice trembles. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come to the Undercroft?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.” Her head’s still resting in his lap, and she really doesn’t want to move. His fingers are still brushing against the bare skin of her side. Slow, soothing strokes. “Thank you,” she whispers.

He pauses for a moment, then continues his light movements. “What else could I have done? Sage, I…I wish you’d remember that there are people who care a lot for you. I wish you wouldn’t be so reckless. What would I do if I lost you?”

Her breathing is shallow again, for a different reason. I’m afraid he doesn’t care for me in the way I want him to, she thinks. She’s overcome with an urge to tell him how she feels, but how can she? They’ve danced around each other for nearly three years now, neither daring to show their full hand, their honest feelings.

His fingers drift down the curve of her waist and she shivers against him.

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice is low, trembles a little. Something in the air around them is shifting, becoming electric. Like every touch he leaves on her skin sends shivers racing over her skin.

Sage’s breath hitches in her throat. “No,” she whispers.

His hand trails up her waist, over her ribs, ghosting beneath her jumper, against the bottom of her bra. “Is this too much?”

Her breathing is shaky. “No. I…like it. You can go further, if you’d like.” She doesn’t know what’s happening, only knows she doesn’t want it to stop. The Undercroft is a different room than it was five minutes ago. The atmosphere shimmers with something unknown and dangerous, something intoxicating.

“Sage…you shouldn't say things so casually. Don't give me the wrong idea.” He stutters out the last few words.

A flash of bravery edges her forward. Fucking encourage him, you coward.“Maybe it isn’t the wrong idea,” she breathes. She sits up, leans toward him, rests a hand on his chest. “Maybe it hasn’t been for a long time.”

Ominis’ breath stutters. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His hand reaches out, finds her cheek. He strokes his thumb over her lips, already parted.

Sage leans forward, crawls toward him and presses her forehead to his. "Am I, Ominis?"

His lips sear against hers, an inferno. Her first kiss, the only one she's ever wanted. She desperately wants it to devour them both, wants to lose herself in him. She shifts over, straddles his lap. Grinds down, makes her intentions clear. "Did you know," she breathes, "that I've wanted you since you yelled at me outside of the Undercroft?"

He gasps against her lips. "Would you believe me if I said I wanted you not long after?" His hands move down over her waist, cup against her bottom.

That surprises her, but she's not about to break their kiss. "No," she says as they catch their breath. "I wouldn't. I thought you hated me at first." She whines as she feels the length of him harden below her.

"Never," he says. "I just d-didn't," he stutters as she grinds against his clothed cock, "didn't know how to handle the situation. But your voice reached straight into my heart. Then y-you never stepped from my side when Sebastian slid down the wrong path, and s-somewhere," he pants, "I fell in love with you." He grabs her arse and bucks up against her.

Her moans are soft, pleading. Need more friction. Need less clothes. She lifts her jumper over her head, tosses it aside. Rips her bra off, flings it at the wall. Ominis gasps as she raises to her knees and presses her chest against his face, hikes her skirt up and her underwear down.

"Do you want this, Ominis?"

He unzips his trousers in reply. Pulls them down along with his underclothes. "Yes," he sighs. "More than you know."

She sinks down, resumes grinding. Her slick pussy coats him in only a few strokes. For a few minutes they grind together leisurely, murmuring sweet nothings into each other's ears. "Tell me more about when you started to want me," he asks.

She laughs, dragging her lips along his neck. "Something about your passion. It was attractive, even if I was the object of your ire at the time." Sage grinds a little faster, caught in the moment. "And then it was your k-kindness, under that guarded exterior. And then it was just you."

He reaches down and teases her opening with the tip of his cock. They both whine, nearly dizzy with anticipation.

Sage bites his neck, hard. "And for years I touched myself thinking of you. Thinking of something like this happening."

A low growl rumbles in his chest. He lifts her, his hands secure under her arse, gripping it almost painfully. "Put it in." Once again, not a request. Not that she minds. She lines up the tip of his cock with her entrance and sinks down onto him.

They cry out together, and Ominis wastes no time. He holds her bottom elevated in his hands, thrusts up into her without relent. Sage gasps against his lips with every movement, feels like she might burst from the sensation. He's fucking her like every dirty thought, every metaphorical step they've ever danced around each other pours into this very moment. It's a culmination of three years of pent up desire, unsaid words.

He stops and she cries out.

"Move," he says. He spreads her onto her back, grabs her hips and bends over her. His fingers dig into the soft flesh as he thrusts into her. She throws her head back, garbling incoherencies as he angles himself above her, hits deeper than she thought possible. He nips at her neck between the sweet words that flow from his filthy mouth.

It’s too overwhelming, in the best way. And when he reaches down, fumbles around her clit and rubs his thumb in firm circles, she comes undone. Sage spills all her long-held secrets. Her breath is urgent against his ears, makes his cock even harder. “I love you, I have for a long time, I’ve wanted this for so long, you’re so fucking perfect, Omi. I love you.”

He groans against her neck. "Sage, if you keep speaking so sweetly, I'm going to combust."

She grins, still panting. "So combust. I love you, Ominis."

With a final stuttering thrust he buries his cock deep within her, emptying not only himself but years of pent up want and need. Everything for her. "I love you too," he breathes. "I love you too."

#ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy smut

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abrcmswrld · 1 year

Text

Talk to Strangers

Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader

━━━━

Word Count: 4,951

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder

Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?

Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!

Ao3 Link

He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.

You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.

You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."

Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.

━━━━

You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.

But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.

It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.

"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.

"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.

He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"

"It makes you an asshole."

He finally faces you.

"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."

His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."

You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."

━━━━

And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.

You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.

"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.

As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.

You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.

"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."

He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.

━━━━

But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.

It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."

"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."

Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.

'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'

Holy shit.

━━━━

Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.

It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.

"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."

He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."

━━━━

The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.

'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'

"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.

You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."

It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.

"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.

"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"

You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.

━━━━

Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.

"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."

"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"

The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.

Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

"When you're ready."

━━━━

You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.

He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.

"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."

You slam the laptop shut.

Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.

Paralyzed.

It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.

Shh. Shh. Just breathe.

But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.

You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.

━━━━

Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.

But you know it's him.

It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.

He thinks he's smarter than you.

You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.

You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.

You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.

━━━━

The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.

So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.

You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."

He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.

"I think you should go home and get some rest."

And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.

━━━━

So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.

He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.

He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.

"Edward."

It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

He is terrifying.

"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."

Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"

He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."

You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.

His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.

But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.

You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.

The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.

"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."

It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.

"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."

You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.

He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.

You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.

He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.

"Does this not make you happy?"

Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.

"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."

You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.

You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"

His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."

That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.

"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."

"Okay."

"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."

His hand grips yours as he looks at you.

"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."

━━━━

You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.

But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.

When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.

"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."

"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."

"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."

“I would never have expected it to be him.”

"I hope he gets the help he needs."

#edward nashton #dano!riddler #dano riddler #paul dano riddler #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #dano!riddler x reader #paul dano #danonation #the batman #edward nashton smut #edward nashton fluff #edward nashton ily forever -abram #gonna log off for the night to keep my nerves down i think

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liivzen · 6 months

Note

Hiii i saw your requests are open. So i have a little something. So, I've had this daydream about post-war levi, where he has a cozy little tea shop. The reader, who is a law student, goes there to study quite frequently. She basically went there for the ambiance and kept going for the owner, if you get me :p. So yeah, it is obvious to lev that she has a crush on him, and you know you know, they talk and all that and one thing leads to another. I hope this isn't too detailed. You can let out anything you're not comfortable with, of course. Lots of luvv ~~

bruh i seriously i have an issue with tumblr. they deleated my draft i had for this. BUT ANYWAYS HIIIIIII, you’re the first person to have a request everrrr! Im so happy someone finally submitted something! I hope this is something that you like, i wish i could’ve wrote more but i am busy with finals (fucking kms). I hope i can expand on this soon though:)

nothing nsfw for now but hopefully we’ll expand on that as well 😏 Also mind the grammar or errors of any kind, I am not an english major for a reason.

You sat in a chair at a small table against the window of the little tea shop in town. Your books scattered around the table, but with no actual work getting done though however. You’re attention was on the man behind the counter with his back facing towards you making a tea for a fellow customer.

This isnt isnt the first time you’ve been at the tea shop. You started coming just to study and enjoy a tea or two. Now you stay for a completely different reason, or well person. You couldn't help put stare at his defined back, his sleeves rolled to his forarms and hands moving with skill.

Unknown to you, Levi could feel your stare, and has been feeling them for months. He could feel you staring at him right now, he tries ignoring it but in the end he always turns around and makes brief eye contact with you. You quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact and pretend to work on whatever was in front of you.

You keep working, sort of, while stealing quick glances to the man. This goes on until it starts to get dark outside and you can tell the owner is starting to clean up the shop. He slowly finishes wiping down a table next to yours and you try not to stare by pretending to work. He slowly makes it to your table now and clears his throat looking at you.

You peek up through your eyelashes before he starts saying something.

“Miss, the shop is about to close.” He says softly, looking into your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll clean up and get out of your way.” You replied back to him, starting to pack up your stuff into the your satchel. He nods at you as a thanks, but not before setting something on the table. Confused, you pick it up.

‘come to the shop on Sunday, 6 o’clock’

You think for a second, wondering why you might have gotten this. Then your brain clicks, the shop is closed on Sundays. Heat starts to rise to your face as you look over to the man again, he’s back behind the counter, back to you cleaning tea cups. You grabbed your satchel and walk over to the counter, this time your the one to clear your throat.

“Um, can I ask you your name sir?” You ask him politely. He turns around, cup and rag in hand.

“It’s Levi.” He responds, while still cleaning the cup. You nod your head at his response, shifting on your feet nervously.

“Can I ask why you left this note Levi.” You prompt him, saying his name with a soft tone. This time he sets the tea cup down and leaning on the counter slightly.

“Well I was hoping I could see the pretty girl thats always in my shop, but on her own.” He replied with a bit of red on his cheek as well. You hum at his answer, thinking about what you’re going to respond with. After a moment of silence Levi opens his mouth,

“If you’re not comfortable-“

“Ok, Mr. Levi.” You interrupt him before he can get his full sentence out. He stares at you for a second and nods his head.

“Ok then, I’ll see you sunday then?” He clarifies.

“I’ll see you on Sunday Mr.Levi.” You smile at him, a small blush on your face. You turn around and start to walk out the door, the little bell atop it chiming when it’s opened. You turn your head over your shoulder one last time and wave at him. Levi gives a small smile back, hands returning to clean tea cups. Walking out with a blush and a smile on your face you have one little thing on your mind now, nothing related to school work.

You have a date this Sunday.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi aot #aot x reader #post-war levi #livanswers #ily

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hongmingoo · 6 months

Text

Breaking Down

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x reader

Synopsis: Wonwoo didn’t hear the last part for your dying breath to him, only hearing up to “I’m sorry, Wonwoo” and began to swirl into the depths of self-loathing. The story of the people you left behind.

Spin-off of Untitled,

Inspired by: Breaking Down by Ailee | Doom at Your Service | Hi Bye, Mama!

Word count: 3.4+k

Warnings: MINORS DNI | Major character death, critical ilness, heavy angst, very slight mention of suicide, mental illness, self loathe, hurt, grieving, depression, ghost!reader. Let me know if i miss anything.

a/n: I just wrote this story in one go, a product of my overwhelmed feelings poured into writing. It might not be as good and there might be grammatical errors and typos too but please pardon me anyways. Please enjoy, and do reblog and like this story to support me 🙂<3

You gasped, at the sight before you.

Wonwoo was breaking down, crumbling into himself. He was tearing himself apart, shredding every last bit hope that held his person together with his own bare hands. He wouldn’t listen to anything anyone says, wouldn’t let anyone come near him. He shut himself from the world, diving head first into deepest pit of misery known to man. And it was because of you.

“I love you, Wonwoo. My love…” you breathed but he didn’t hear you. Tears are blurring your vision as you watched the scene unfolding before you– Wonwoo clutching your lifeless body tightly in his arms as he sobbed his heart out on your chest, desperately trying to find your heartbeat. Your brother burst through the door, with a bunch of nurses and doctors in tow.

“AED. Intubation.” he called out to one of the residents. A nurse pushed through with a cart equipped with the machine, charging it as she placed all the pads needed onto your body. She held out the paddles for Joshua to take but he gulped. He looked over to his wife, who finished intubating you, and nodded. Joshua stepped back, letting his wife take over the process as his hands trembled in fear. He collected Wonwoo in his arms, rubbing circles on his back as he watched the painful process of reviving you.

“Come on, Y/n. Come back to us” Iris croaked as she pumped at your chest while the machine are being charged and placing paddle for shock.

It has been 30 solid minutes, the resident at head of the bed was getting tired of pumping oxygen into your airways with no response. His posture began to falter that the airbag slipped from his grip.

“Pull yourself together!” Iris barked, hands still pumping at your chest.

“Enough” Joshua called out, the residents and nurses stopped immediately at their Head of Department’s order but Iris does not relent.

“What are you doing? Move your hands!” she argued, voice breaking.

“Iris. Enough. You’re hurting my sister” Joshua warned, his voice firm and demanding. Iris turned to argue her points but the words died on her tongue immediately. His eyes are hard but filled with pain. Clear droplets are lining his waterlines glazing his dark brown orbs. Wonwoo broke free from his grasp, tugging at his collar roughly.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!! REVIVE HER!! ARE YOU GIVING UP ON HER?? SHE’S YOUR SISTER!! MY WIFE!!” he screamed, shaking the older man, desperation clear in his voice.

“I’m never giving up on her. But i won’t hurt my baby sister anymore, Wonwoo. She doesn’t deserve to be in pain anymore” Joshua replied, his voice surprisingly calm. Wonwoo opened and his closes his mouth, unable to utter any words out. He knew his brother was right, you have been in pain for so long. You doesn’t deserve to suffer anymore but he can’t just let you go. Not when he made you cry until the end of your breath, not when you apologized to him for something that wasn’t your fault. Not when he’s sure you hated him.

“No… No… Y/n… She apologized to me. Her last words were ‘I’m sorry, Wonwoo’. She cried and apologized to me, when she did nothing wrong. How am I supposed to live with that?! How can I apologize to her if she leave me like this?” he rambled, looking back and forth between your body and Joshua. Silently praying that he’ll agree to save you again, to bring you back so that he won’t wallow in regret.

“Patient name, Hong Y/n. Age 36. Time of death, 0415am, December 30th 20xx” Joshua announced, staring at his wrist watch to avoid the gaze lingering upon him. Wonwoo fell down to his knees, before he began yelling and screaming from the news. The doctors tried their hardest to hold him back, but he was tall and big, the tallest among them. It took 5 of them to hold him as he fought back, trying to reach for you.

“Give him the sedative” he heard in the back of his mind, eyes never leaving you even as his vision blurry from his own tears.

“Wonwoo-hyung” he heard this time, saw a vision of Mingyu rushing to him as his vision fades and he blacked out.

You stood there, invisible to everyone’s eyes as the chaos ensues in the midst of the cold and quiet atmosphere of the hospital. You watched Wonwoo broke down, Iris trying her hardest to hold back her tears as she worked on you. And you watched Joshua swallow his tears and pain– trying to be the mature adult here, acting as the responsible guardian that he is.

But you could see it in his eyes, the pain, disappointment, loneliness and most importantly, sadness. It was his 43th birthday today, you promised to give him a scarf that you’ve trying your hardest to knit, celebrate his birthday together with a cup of warm latte and croffle on the rooftop of the hospital today, while you guys plan what to do for your birthday on the 7th of January. It has been your sibling tradition for years since your mom passed away. You both always made time for each other despite your busy schedules to spend these two days with just each other.

“You broke your promise. You’d have to stand on your hands for 1 minute straight now” he mumbled under his breath, as if he knew you’re there, right next to him all the time.

“You can all go. I’ll finish up here. Mingyu, please bring Wonwoo to the next room so that Iris can check on him. The rest are dismissed. Thank you for your hard work” Joshua said, as he bowed deeply to his staffs. They all stepped out of the room, leaving him behind the closed door reluctantly. Iris and Mingyu lingered in front of the front door, hesitant to take the next step. But they knew Joshua needed the time alone. It wasn’t until they heard Joshua’s painful wail that they bawled their eyes too. The man was still bowing towards the door, as he let out the sobs that he held back an hour ago into the empty space of the cold ward room. He then walked to the bed and took a seat at the edge, caressing your pale face with his knuckles gently.

“You’re still warm. My baby…” he sobbed, choking on his own tears.

“Shua…” you cried, sitting behind him, resting your head on his back, arms wrapping around his torso.

“Why did you take her away too early, mom? I wasn’t ready to let go of her yet. I feel like I haven't taken care of her enough. I wasn’t a good brother to her. I haven’t done enough for her” he paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“But I'm sure you want to spend time with her more now, since you too didn’t get to spend enough time with her before. I hope that you’ll be happy together. I’ll send Y/n off properly, so please take care of her again, omma. I love you both so much” he exhaled his shaky breath, trying to manage a proper smile, but he wasn’t able to hide the pain he’s feeling right at the moment. So, joshua allowed himself to breakdown, bawling his eyes out, as hugged his sister’s lifeless body tight.

“You’re the best brother I could ever ask for, Shua. I love you so much and I’m sorry for leaving you behind”

Wonwoo woke up two days later, for the funeral. To be honest, he didn’t have the slightest energy to carry himself around, let alone arrange the funeral and visitation. He let Mingyu dragged him to the bathroom to wash him and dress him, tidying his hair, applying chapstick to his cracked lips. He let the younger fed him water, any sort of food he can bring himself to chew, only to vomit them all out mere minutes later. He let himself be walked to the funeral hall, where he saw the portrait of you smiling so brightly, sitting at the center of the of the parlor surrounded by white chrysanthemums. The younger gently sat him down on the cushions to the side so he could lean on the wall.

Joshua came, wrapping the same band that he’s wearing for chief mourners around his right arm.

“Just stay here, with her. I’ll handle everything, okay?” he asked, staring into Wonwoo’s lifeless orbs who stared back at him blankly. He squeezed the younger’s shoulders for encouragement before moving away to greet guests and handled everything that needs to be done. He doesn’t care. He can’t. How could he?

He lost you. He lost the light that shines his being, his meaningless life. And losing you meant losing his life too. He felt like it was his fault, that you suffered, till the end of your breath, that you cried for him and you apologized to him instead of saying you love him.

Why did you apologize? You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault that you got sick. You didn’t ask to fall ill. You never did. Even in the worst moment, you were still smiling at him. You still hug him, assured him, that everything will be okay eventually. But because he cried, he begged you not to leave him. He begged, pleaded and asked for mercy that you’d stay with him just a day longer, an hour, a minute, a second longer as your life wilted away.

He had wept in your arms when you were in absolute pain, that you apologized to him for leaving him behind as your last breath. He kind of thought that he deserves this. This is his punishment for being so selfish, for forcing to to go through all all those painful therapies that worn out your fragile body day by day. He doesn’t deserve you.

He let everyone stares at him as he cried yet again, staring into the walls of the hall with empty eyes. He let those who mocked him be for being so irresponsible on his own wife’s funeral. He let those judgemental stares pierced through his soul, because there’s nothing he could think of other than you’re not being with him anymore. He let those nasty whispers ran through his mind when people scoffed at him for being pathetic. He let his mom hug him and cried for him when he didn’t respond to her calls. He let Iris took away your son to comfort him when the three year old boy cried for his dad.

But you were there, right in front of him, as he stared up at your portrait when everyone already left. You have been there from the very beginning, watching him, staying with him. He just couldn’t hear or see you. It breaks your heart to see him like this. He gave up on his life. Your Wonwoo, who was the optimistic being, the thoughtful and caring Wonwoo, let himself be eaten alive by guilt.

“Baby, please don’t cry… please stop blaming yourself…” you plead, only for it to fall on deaf ears.

You didn’t leave him after that too, continued to stay by him even after he went home. Wonwoo locked himself in your bedroom as soon as he reached home, reaching for the last hoodie you wore and hug it close to his chest as he tried to fall asleep. He let his parents take your son back to Changwon, didn’t promise them he’d come visit, won’t say he’ll be okay by himself. Just let them leave, without a word.

Wonwoo didn’t eat, for like 2 months, only surviving with water. He didn’t touch the food Mingyu cooked for him even after the guy practically moved in with him uninvited to care for him. Joshua came by too, every two days two check in on him, buying groceries for him every weekend and even went to Changwon to visit his nephew. But Wonwoo still didn’t budge from his bed. He didn’t wash nor clean himself. Didn’t go to work either, luckily Seungcheol understood and let him on unpaid leave for a year. But he silently paid for his commitments and gave money for his son’s needs to his parents in Changwon. They silently agreed among their group of friends to support Wonwoo with everything he would need until he can stand on his feet again, no matter how long it would take.

Your husband let himself suffer, torturing himself by not taking the nutrients his body needs. But he didn’t try to inflict injury upon himself either, only letting life fades away just like that. It wasn’t a good thing, but you’re glad that he didn’t try to take away his life drastically.

In the third month, Soonyoung forces a piece of kimbap into his mouth, begging him to eat, pleading and crying on his knees because he could’t bare to see his best friend like a zombie anymore.

“Wonjunnie misses his appa, Wonwoo-yah. Please come back” he sobbed, wrapping his arms around his friend’s thin shoulders. Wonwoo let his tears fall yet again, but he’s too tired to say anything. He couldn’t bring himself to.

It wasn’t until a year, that he’s able to walk out of the house again. But not without help, of course. Mingyu would help him walk, while Soonyoung drives him around. He visited your resting place for the first time, sitting next to your mom’s. It was filled with photos of you, during youth, wedding photo, pregnancy photo and everything memorial about you. He choked up again, telling you how he misses you so much.

Soonyoung then drove them back to his parents home, to reconnect with his son. It brought tears to his eyes yet again, to be reminded of how much the boy resembles his mother. His eyes, nose and cheeks. The way he talks, his way of expressing himself, all of it reminds Wonwoo of you.

“I’m sorry, my Wonjun. I don’t have any strength to take care of you right now. I can’t be a good father for you in my state right now. I don’t want to hurt you. I promise I'll come for you as soon as I’m ready. Please know that I love you very very very much, my son. I’m so sorry, my Wonjun” he sobbed, hugging his son’s tiny body in his weak arms. The boy pulled away to stare into his eyes, his tiny hand reaching up to wipe the tears away from his father’s eyes.

“I’ll pray that mama will take away all of your pain, papa. Please don’t cry” he pouted, eyes beginning to water too. Wonwoo pulled his son into his embrace again, tighter this time, crying his heart out. The boy doesn’t have to know that his mother had cried in her last moments. He also doesn’t have to know that his mother might have hated his father.

“Your time is almost up, Y/n. You have to leave” a voice called out. You turned around from staring at Wonwoo to lock eyes with the person behind you. Rather than a person, he’s a deity.

“How can I leave when he’s still like that?”

“Your five years are almost up. You have to go”

“Tell me how to reach him first. I can’t leave him like this. He’s blaming himself. He thought that I hated him!” you argued.

“There’s nothing I can do. He won’t let anyone help him. He has no hope anymore in him”

“Then give him hope, Jeonghan! You’re a deity! For fucks sake!” you screamed, irritated at the long haired man. You were more desperate than irritated actually. You have been trying to connect with Wonwoo, get into his subconsciousness for almost five years to free him of his guilt. But he won’t let you in. he had lost all hope in him. Wonwoo is broken.

And your time is running out. If you don’t leave until your five years are up, you’ll be mindless evil spirit. Bounded to this world forever, and harming people. You might even harm your beloved ones. You'd hate that.

“What hope should I give? You knew nothing worked for him” Jeonghan sighed.

“Anything! A new woman? So that he forgets me” you gritted, frustrated at yourself. Jeonghan eyed you.

“Would you actually want that?”

“I’d do anything to save him” you exhaled. You knew it wouldn’t work. Jeonghan tried it before. Introducing someone new to Wonwoo but it only ended up offending him and Joshua. They thought he was inconsiderate of them and didn’t respect the bond they have with you. But you can’t hover around Wonjun either because he’s a child and still so vulnerable to attacks. You need someone to coax Wonwoo to open up his heart, which he locked away for the longest time, so you could slip inside and let him know how you actually feel.

To your relief, that person was Joshua, your brother, your ever saviour. He had cried after a long time, begging your husband to talk to him, to them, because they can’t see him like that anymore.

Maybe it was Jeonghan who told him about the dire situation you are in now, or maybe it was his instinct because Joshua has always been observant of you. You have been hovering over him long enough for him to catch up on supernatural feels. He wasn’t the one to believe that sorts of things, but if it was a chance to save his brother, to pull Wonwoo back to himself, he was willing to do everything that it takes.

Finally, after years of trying, you slipped into Wonwoo’s subconsciousness. You saw him sitting in the dark corner alone, and lonely.

“Wonwoo, baby?” you called out. His head whipped to your direction immediately upon hearin the voice he missed the most.

“Y/n” he broke down, running into your arms and you gladly receives him, kissing his face that you missed dearly. You kissed him on his hair as he cried his heart out, telling you how much he misses you. That he wished he'd died with you too. You let him weep for who knows how long, until he can breathe properly again.

“I love you so, so, so much Wonwoo my love. There isn’t a moment of time that I didn’t. Please don’t be in pain anymore. Please live happily with our Wonjunnie. And please keep me in your memory always. I’ll always be here for you. I love you. I love you so much, my love” you say, staring into his glassy eyes.

You knew you can’t stay there for long, you’re not a deity. Wonwoo is bound to wake up again. And you wouldn’t want anything more than that. You’ve said what you needed to. You saw that the frowns on his brows has faded a bit from your assurance. The dark, and gloomy place has begin to fill with colours. The chains of his heart has been broken and the guilt he felt is slowly vanishing. Your job is done and you need to go. With a deep breath, you let Wonwoo go, staring at his handsome face as you backed away– towards Jeonghan who was waiting for you.

“I love you, Jeon Wonwoo” you say one last time before vanishing.

Wonwoo’s eyes shot open, seeing he's passed out at Joshua's couch as usual. The windows are open a bit to let the cool air in. And for the first time in a while, he can breathe properly. The heavy feelings confining his chest have dissipated and he believed that it's your doing.

"I love you, Y/n. Thank you for staying with me"

And that night, Wonwoo realized that you might not be there with him physically, but you'll always be there in his heart and mind.

-Fin-

#seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #wonwoo #wonwoo angst #svt angst

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ideas-4-stories · 4 months

Note

NOOOOOOOO I LOST THE AU I WROTE FOR YOU 😭😭😭 I LITERALLY SENT IT AND TUMBLR SAID "NETWORK ERROR". L FOR THE WIFI. L. Not cool I'm literally crying I thought that AU was genius. It was a Teacher!Buggy AU with Crocomom and Dadhawk. + Shanks co-parenting Luffy with Crocodile. That note was so long I literally spent like 45 mins writing it here on your ask and it was just. Gone. Or I think it did. Why does life hate me. I'm just gonna be brief with this cuz I still think it's golden lmao. Croco and Mihawk work long hours so their kids (Luffy, Zoro, Perona) have to wait for a few hours until they're picked up by their parents. The school doesn't have school buses bc I said so (no I am not cruel it's just out of my budget /j). So Buggy takes the responsibility to keep them comfortable and entertained while they wait. Croco and Mihawk meeting this charming (and clown looking) blue-haired guy and they start courting him. Shanks gets dragged in on the courting bc of Luffy. Also he was already courting Buggy. I didn't write their process of courting I basically skipped and went,, their wedding will take part in a Goth castle. And the design are all sunshine and rainbows (literally). Sanji, Usopp, Nami, Vivi, Zoro and Luffy being in a class along with other kids. Franky, Robin, Jinbei and Brook are in higher classes. Chopper is atom. Not here in the world yet. Perona is like, 2-3yrs older than her brothers so. Yeah *awkwardly shuffles* (I love perona I swear-). Implied Zosan. Some rando: but you didn't imply shi— Me: Shhh I did. *gaslighting*. Law is also there in the classroom with lower grade strawhats. He's suffering. He only attends 3 days a week tho, he's mostly homeschooled bc of his sickness. He's homeschooled by Cora. (You can pry Law and Cora from my cold dead hands. You can separate them when I dissolve into ashes). Don't worry as he gets older his sickness is cured. Ofc he's cured by Cora. He's saved by Cora in every universe. In every AU. Every Era. Every life they will ever live. I will die on that hill– *applies the nobody dies/everyone lives tag on this AU* let my babies be happy pls. Let my man Cora live and travel the world with this emo boy (Law). Doffy isn't real, he can't hurt anyone. Ace is there. Sabo is there. Every One Piece character is out there somewhere. They're like hidden stones and you have 0.02% of finding them. I thought I was just making a Teacher!Buggy AU but then it turns into a Modern!AU for everyone. Let's gooooo. Sora divorces with Judge and remarry with Zeff so now Sanji lives with all his brothers and his sister. They get separate classrooms tho, and reiju is perona's age so she's besties with her. (I do not play by canon's rules with ages bc i live in my own world) They both tease their brothers (Sanji and Zoro) about their crushes on each other. The heart crew is there. Bepo is a dog, a very fluffy one. Kuina is alive. Kaya is there, same classroom with Usopp. I have no idea how to continue this lmao, but I do hope you find this interesting bc Buggy is 100% great with kids and probably teaches well bc he is a big nerd and makes lessons interesting. (Also, the whole reason why I wrote this instead of letting the idea slip through my mind like the others is bc the image of two goth men courting a clown looking mf was funny to me. So here we are lmao. The way I wrote this makes Shanks look like he's the person they let into their open relationship twice lol I'm so sorry 😭😭)

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

That's really sad, I really like this idea (though I see Shanks and Buggy more as siblings, but I understand the idea of Shuggy) It's fine that this became about so many people, I really like this.

Teacher!Buggy sounds so cool, you know that he's the flashiest and maybe one of the craziness of the things he'll do to get his students good things that will boost their learning. He knows that every kid might not have the same learning paths as others.

How many classes does this man teach? Who knows, too many for how much he gets paid. All teachers needs to get paid more.

I would think Jinbei and Brook being other fun teachers in the school, like Tom could be as well!

I really like this idea, and the imagine of two gothic men trying to court a clown-looking mf is really funny to me as well.

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fillinforlater · 9 months

Note

i kinda agrer w the anon like ig the older members r fine but if u plan on writing for new jeans rhe maknae is 14/15…

A measured Response

While I think the other anon who send the initially accusation is still the one sending asks to my inbox, I also think that you are another person. I will strengthen and steel-man your concerns/argument, though it will always baffle me that y'all have these ridiculous spelling errors. Seriously, guys, at least try to type coherent messages/a literal paragraph with no mistakes.

(To those of you who do, thank you <3)

For some fucking reason I feel like I have to make this a thing. I should not, really. These accusations are baseless, I'm not the thing he wants to frame me as, so on and so on, but because I think you are genuinely kinda worried what I meant, I'll explain it to you.

(I'm not sorry if I sound condescending or anything, because I am)

It started with this ask, which basically asked me:

"Do you plan on writing NewJeans in the future?"

Now, being human and (probably) understanding English as well as context, this is what I (and probably 99% of other people with the right context) assumed this person meant:

"Do you plan on writing a fic about any of the 18+ NewJeans members in the future?"

bUt tHaT iSnT wHaT tHeY aSkEd!?

You cannot possibly reach that conclusion. Seriously, go look at literally every fic I ever wrote. Age of the idols? Ranging from 30 something down to 18, the absolute hard legal and (I guess) moral minimum, the line I don't cross.

If you go to my page or just open this weird ass tab from Tumblr (fuck Tumblr), you see stuff like "18+ Girl Group fic writer" or "No minors" or (from my Biaslists & Writelist & Requests tab) "Remember that I said most and 18+. This automatically excluded all 18- idols... I won't write those." This is easily understandable, obvious context to the message from above.

Or did you think I would just write about literal new jeans, like an review or something? No, of course not.

Oh, you can also look at my response, like... I specifically mention Hanni and Danielle, two 18+ idols, very popular, probably the two (including I guess Minji) the asker probably meant.

Now the point where I might look like an idiot if I take you seriously:

I responded to the baseless accusation with a GIF of Hanni, the focus on an easily identifiable part (her ass). The response of the accuser (still in my inbox):

"You just admitted you're a pedo"

Wrong and cringe.

Granted, you did not know this message (if you are a different person), yet you still, after seeing the Hanni GIF decided to say this. Either you are fucking stupid or this is maliciously framing me. Pick your poison.

(BTW: You are stupid because Hanni is 18. International age. Whatever the fuck Koreans use/used to use does not count, but she is also "19"/an adult there)

If you now need it black on white (or white on black), here it goes:

I'm not a pedo. I'm even against idols debuting under the age of 18.

(Why did I even bother? I dunno man, now it's out of the system)

With that said, I got some ideas for a Hanni fic (still very basic, but god, she is gorgeous and hot) and for a Danielle fic (funnily, it's not even a smut).

Everyone, have a nice day and some pretty Minji <3

#kpop smut #female idol smut #newjeans smut #newjeans fanfic #why am I responding to idiots

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exquisiteserotonin · 8 months

Text

Precious Possessions Chapter 7: Keep Me On Fire

Pairing: Dave York X F! Reader

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Word count: 3.7K

Summary: Reeling from the aftermath of the events surrounding Brad's death, our dear reader must come to terms with what might happen next and what this means for your place on Dave's team and in his life

Warnings: PiV sex, dirty talk and names, squirting, minor BDSM stuff, sexy stuff happens in this chapter, I'm not responsible for what you consume. Once again please DNI if you are not 18 and over. Also not beta'd, so all errors are my own.

A/N: As always, I am so humbled when any of you ever read my stuff. I also appreciate if you have followed along with me as I have built this story. I hope you will continue me to follow me along the home stretch. Also if you would like to be included on the taglist for this fic, please let me know!

Love for my magical sluts! Thank you for the encouragement and pushing me to continue this story.

@youandmeand5bucks @imalrightllama @basicoccult @legendary-pink-dot @redhotkitchen @pink-whiskey-woman @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38

Chapter 7: Keep Me On Fire

One of your co-workers picked you up from the hospital after your overnight stay there. You didn’t know who else to call. No real family to speak of, not any you cared to call anyway. You sat in silence as you stared out the passenger side window at nothing in particular. Everything at the side of the road zoomed past you in formless blurs. Every sound around you played in your ears as though filtered through a muffled speaker. Your gaze moved to your hands, and you became hyper aware of your breaths and your body. Your brain was on another plane of existence. None of this, none of anything felt real.

Bits and pieces of words and conversations interspersed between images and feelings were tossing themselves around in your mind.

“We just want to make sure we have the details right, ma’am.”

You nodded, you were still damp with dirt and tears, and your body still hurt.

“Do you mind telling us what happened?”

You shook your head.

“Brad and I just finished dinner…and we left the restaurant, I pulled him into a quiet alley---then two guys came out of nowhere and---,”

A flash of Dave standing over you, pushing you to the ground, replayed over and over in your head as tears fell down your dirty face.

“Why would you go into an empty alley?”

“Brad and I wanted some alone time.”

You didn’t care if anyone knew what that implied. He was supposed to be your boyfriend anyway. The cop who questioned you tightened his lips.

“Ok, I see.”

He wrote down something in his little notebook.

“Um, ma’am, if you are ok, would you continue please?”

That was a funny question. Of course, you weren’t OK.

“Two guys jumped out at us. One of them threw me to the ground.”

The memory of his angry eyes burned themselves into you as he held you by the wrists and tossed you to the ground.

And now you were fucking crying.

The detective handed you a tissue. Some pathetic semblance of minute caring or compassion, you supposed.

“One of them threw me to the ground…”

By now, you knew you were doing that ugly crying thing. The kind of crying where your lips were trembling, and you were gasping to breathe.

“I heard Brad, and he was struggling and then he just---just stopped…”

A nurse came to you and placed a soft hand on your back as you cried. You could feel her glare at the detective.

“They started to come at me, and I just screamed and screamed.”

“And you’re sure you couldn’t see their faces?”

Dave’s eyes were enough.

“They had masks, and it was so dark.”

You placed a hand on your head as it began to ache from all the tears. There was a dull ache in your wrist, which hurt your heart more than the body part itself.

“Detective, do you have everything you need? She really needs to rest.”

The scribble of more notes sounded out before he closed his notepad.

“Yes, I think I have it. I’m sorry for your loss.”

The detective reeked of stale coffee, cigarettes, and misplaced arrogance. The fucker had probably never been sorry about anything in his life.

“Hey, hon,” your co-worker’s calming tone snapped you back into reality, “we’re at your place.”

Through blinking eyes, you looked up to find yourself parked in front of your townhouse. Wordlessly, you began to gather your things that rested at your feet in front of the passenger seat of your co-worker’s car. Practically leaping out, she met you to open the passenger side door.

“Thank you,” you spoke quietly as you pushed yourself out of the car. “Thank you for driving me home.”

She accompanied you to your front door, kindly but also awkwardly waiting with you as you unlocked your door.

“Will you be ok?” she asked. “Is there anything I can do? Would you like me to stay with you? Just for a little while?”

“No, thank you,” the words came out with a mindless automaticity. “I just need to sleep.”

“Ok,” she murmured, concerned but unsure of the protocol or etiquette she should be following. “Well, just call if you need anything OK?”

As you walked in you wondered briefly who would be awaiting you there. Dave? No. Someone to kill you? Perhaps. Likely Resnick.

Instead, there was no one. Nothing.

The early afternoon light filtered in through the diaphanous curtains in your living room window. Everything was as you left it the night before: a book you’d been reading left askew on your living room table. A blanket left on your couch. Your bed, though made, was rumpled from where you sat. An eyeshadow palette still left on the bathroom vanity.

You reached for your face wash and haphazardly washed away any remaining makeup left on your face, not bothering to even look at yourself in the mirror. Dark remnants of mascara pressed lightly into your face towel when you pat yourself dry. Reaching into the shower you turned the handle to somewhere between hot and warm. The water rained on you as you stepped in and stared at how droplets from the water streams clung to your skin like morning dew on grass. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash---your shower was quick and functional. You dried yourself off and hung up your towel on the hook attached to your door.

You didn’t even have the strength to put on any clothes. Climbing in bed and pulling the covers up to your chest was the only action your body felt compelled to do. You snuggled in, staring at your wrists where Dave grabbed you, shook you, tossed you to the ground. Burying your face into your pillow, you took a long, slow breath as your puffy eyes grew heavy with approaching slumber.

It still smelled like Dave.

***

Wakefulness eased its way towards you, crawling up your shoulders to your neck to open your eyes. Darkness met them in a kinder way than the harsh beams of the sun normally greeted you upon waking. The time it took for your eyes to adjust to the darkness was gradual as the edges of your blackout curtains allowed only slivers of moonlight into your room. The peace of the night was broken by the incessant ringing of your camera doorbell. Bolting up, you grabbed your gun from your nightstand and covered yourself with a kimono from your closet.

The camera revealed the figure of a man dressed in black, a beanie atop his head. The devil you knew was at your door and you were ready for him. Setting your gun down, you opened the door and welcomed him. His eyes met yours and you studied each other in silence. The raise of his eyebrow, along with a smile twisted with lust accompanied the pilgrimage of his eyes over the vision of your naked body. A cruel mixture of excitement and trepidation brewed within you as he locked the door behind him.

No words were spoken. No words were needed. He was on you before you could think, his hand grabbing at your bare waist. Keeping your body pressed to his, he advanced both of you towards your living room wall. A loud crash of books on the floor along with a shaking of mirrors was only a small part of the aftermath of him pinning you there, pressing at your wrists with his hands. The force of his body sent heaving breaths of desire across your naked chest. Only seconds had passed when you felt his own hot, audible breaths keeping time with yours. Primal need seeped from his lips to yours, drawing you in further with one delicious taste of his tongue.

“Is this what you want, you little cunt?” he asked with a raspy, snarl from the back of his throat. “My pretty little whore craves the fucking danger, the adrenaline, isn’t that right?”

Dave tossed your kimono to the floor then lifted you with ease as you wrapped your legs around his waist. By now, he had memorized the path to your bedroom. So many days and nights had been spent there drowning in each other’s darkness. He tossed you on your bed and you pressed yourself up to watch him undress. Each breath you drew in grew faster and faster at each article of clothing he threw on your bedroom floor. With his beautiful body fully exposed, he leaned forward and began to crawl towards you on the bed. A devilish grin curled his lips as you spread your legs open for him. The feeling of his hands as he traced along your thighs, hips, and waist was intoxicating. They continued to travel up your body, massaging the supple tissue of your tits. You arched towards him as he pinched and swirled your nipples with sudden flicks and strokes of his tongue.

He pressed himself up with his forearms on either side of you. He gazed at you with lust-filled eyes until they settled at your right cheek where you wore a purple bruise from Resnik’s back hand. He lowered his face to yours, taking you into a deep, long kiss. When you opened your eyes, the intensity of his gaze began to melt away, lifting with his eyebrows and softening as his eyes opened and rounded at the edges. His eyes, then nose moved across the small territory of your right cheek until he lowered his lips there in the softest kiss you’ve ever felt from him.

“It’s not that bad,” you whispered, “he needed to make it believable.”

He kissed you again, heavier with this desire for you. This time his tongue setting you alight with need as he bucked his hips against your pelvis. The way his cock twitched and lifted told you how much he needed you. The journey of his eyes rested at your left wrist. He paused to take you in for a moment, his brows lowered and without words, you knew he was replaying the moment he pushed you to the ground.

“Don’t get soft on me now, York,” you commented, slowly drawing invisible swirls on his freckled shoulder with your fingertips. “It was all part of the job, right?”

“Endangering someone who’s part of the team isn’t how I operate.”

“Look at me,” you said sternly, “I’m not willing to lose y---,”

Out of self-preservation, you disallowed yourself from uttering the rest of your declaration.

“I don’t want to be a distraction.”

His right hand traveled down to your center, your breath hitching as his thumb began a slow exploration of your outer folds. He gingerly pressed his thumb to your clit, massaging it with light up and down strokes, responding to each roll and writhe of your body.

“Not a distraction,” he murmured, slowly slipping one thick finger into you, “an asset.”

The roll of your body was a signal for him to insert another finger. He began slowly at first, working both his fingers in and out of you to build up the slick that was already beginning to weep from your core. Your pussy began to swell at the pressure building inside you. The feeling of his forehead against yours as he continued his merciless ministrations had you opening your legs wider for him. The palm of his hand twisted upward as he relentlessly maneuvered his fingers within you, curling them on the button of your sex, beckoning you to come. It was hard to process anything else than his hand working on your pleasure. You closed your eyes feeling every ounce of it collecting itself at your bundle of nerves.

“No, firefly,” he voiced, his breath warm against your ear, “open your eyes.”

Your mouth quivered with moans as you followed his directive, capturing his brown eyes with yours as you made a pathetic attempt at forming words, “Dave, I’m---ah, ah, ah!”

“That’s it, come for me,” he demanded, “fucking come all over my hand.”

As soon as his words left his lips, you were screaming and bucking your hips towards the ceiling as his fingers continued to intensify each jolt your body was already giving to him. His lips and his tongue silenced your screams with a deep kiss while your legs and pelvis bucked towards his hand as he pulled a quaking, wet orgasm from you that left your entire body shaking. He continued to kiss you as your hand searched blindly for his arm, bracing yourself with each wave of wet pleasure.

“Jesus,” you gasp between long breaths, your head still pressed to his.

“Fuck, look at you,” Dave breathed into you, “look at how your body is shaking.”

“So good Dave!!” you proclaimed, intoxicated by his sex.

A quick yelp tumbled from your breathless lips as he flipped you over onto your stomach. The shift of your knees beneath you allowed you to press your ass up towards him, wriggling with impatient want for him to split you open.

Getting on his hands and knees, he prowled and shuffled around in bed to reach over to the night stand on “his” side. For a moment you laughed with breathless desire, thinking how ridiculous it seemed that you had designated the label to this object on your own. Yet, his brain and muscle memory knew everything he kept in there. This time he reached for a set of wrist restraints, which received little use since he acquired them for the two of you. Both of you loved the raw feeling of his large, bare hands holding you down and holding you still. But tonight was different. Tonight, you were his to control.

He pushed you down further into the bed by the nape of your neck and pulled your arms behind you in a strong grip. Anticipation rose in your chest and in the quick sounds of your breath as he fastened each cuff around your wrists. With a tight grip of his hand at the base of his cock, he slapped at your pussy, reminding you that it belonged to him. The arousal that vibrated there was intensified as Dave rubbed his hard, thick cock over your wet folds with a moan so loud it echoed up the high walls of your bedroom. He slipped inside with ease and with a few hard slaps of his hand against your ass. He’d reduced you to a mess of moans in your sheets.

“Always so tight and so wet for me,” he praised, moaning with each slow, deep thrust into your pussy.

Each measured thrust he gave you set off nearly every nerve ending you had on your dewy skin. He leaned over as your hands reached out behind you searching for his touch. Large hands massaged against your ass, your waist, until they found the perfect, but temporary destination of your tits. He took a hold of each one, massaging them in his strong, capable hands as his thrusts grew more forceful and more urgent. His hands moved up to your shoulders pressing against them with deep touches of his fingers into your skin.

“Ahhh, Dave, your cock is so good!” you moaned, feeling every ridge and vein as he kept moving for you.

“You crave it, don’t you?” Dave growled as he moved to grab you by your hair. “Can’t imagine life without me fucking you?”

With a strong pull of your hair in one and a pull of the restraints in the other, he pounded into your swollen pussy. The desire to answer perched at the edge of your lips but escaped only in a chorus of moans as he continued to slam himself into you. Letting go of your hair, his hands .pressed and rolled deep into your shoulders moving down the length of your arms until his fingers were digging into your hips. He lifted his hand and drew back, sending smacks that sent a string of reverberations through to your center and stinging back into his hand. Somehow you were both moaning as he left his mark: defined, red, and in the shape of his hand. He pulled at your restraints again, this time even harder.

“Firefly…,” you felt as Dave’s words began to falter the closer he inched towards orgasm, “answer me.”

“Yes, yes, please, I need your cock!!” you cried as he continued fuck into you with such force it made your headboard and bedframe rock. you just knew you’d be sore tomorrow.

The heat was gathering at your core, like tiny fires igniting and setting new fires through your abdomen, your chest, neck, and back. You didn’t know how much more you could take.

“It’s too much, please Dave, I---I can’t.”

“Not.”

Thrust

“Your.”

Thrust.

“Choice”

Thrust.

Leaning forward, he cruelly pulled out of you before you could come and flipped you over again onto your back. Crawling over you, he pushed your pelvis slightly upwards with his thighs. He hooked one arm under your knee and began to circle your swollen clit with the torturous precision of his thumb, rubbing, swirling, and swirling until he sent quivers outward through your entire body. Tears started to release from your eyes as your hands flexed and stretched beneath you, still in their restraints, desperate for any relief he was gracious enough to bestow on you. With quick slaps of his hard cock, he pushed into you once again. He met your pussy with the same power and urgency as he had when you were on your hands and knees.

“Fuck, you’re always so fucking tight for me,” he growled as his thrusts gained erratic moment. “Come all over this cock, wet your fucking cock.”

“Dave, fill me up, please!!!’ you screamed and moaned as you clenched your walls over his cock. “FUCK!!!”

The walls of your pussy choked down on his cock as the apex of your pleasure rushed in. The futility with which you pulled your wrists from each other trying to break the restraints intensified your pleasure sending a red heat rippling over your body. His eyes were fixed on yours as a gasping groan left his lips as your walls contracted around him, the hot gush of his cum warming you from the inside. Your back and chest heaved as you tried to recover from the earthquake of your orgasm. With his cock still buried deep inside you, he pressed his lips to yours, losing himself in the taste of you before burying his face in your neck. The two of you trembled from the highest peaks of your respective orgasms. He released his cock from the comfort of your warm, wet walls, drawing in a breath and letting out a whimper.

“Turn over,” he instructed with a sigh.

Spent, aching, and fucked out, you rolled over to collapse onto your stomach using what little energy reserve you had left. The feeling of his hands in the merciful act of removing the restraints had you releasing a deep sigh of relief. Your arms dropped to your sides, your left wrist stinging only slightly from where you had fallen the night before. Dave lowered himself to the bed next to you and you peered at him through the strands of hair that still covered your face. Unexpectedly, he took his hand and brushed away the hair, pushing it back and laying it lightly down your back. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle feeling, not knowing how brief it would be or if it would ever happen again. The feeling of his hand as it traced down your neck and down the dip of your lower back sent shivers and goosebumps over every inch of you.

He brought his hand to your face, once again examining the bruise Resnick had left on your face.

“What I said earlier---,” Dave began his voice steady and stoic.

“You said a lot of things, Dave,” you replied before he could finish.

“I mean it, you need to decide if you really have the stomach for this,” Dave warned, his voice stern and teetering on the edge of regret, “I can’t have people on my team who I can’t rely on and who I can’t trust.”

Opening your eyes, you propped yourself up and scooted closer to him, “What’s the point in even giving me a second chance?”

He breathed you in as you inched closer, your legs beginning to tangle in his, “I know what you’re capable of; your skills would fill a void in the team.”

“I need the team to listen to me when I have the right intel,” you enjoined, running fingers along his forearm, “not just because I’m fucking you.”

“It’ll happen,” Dave assured as he sat up, leaning against the soft headboard of your bed. “Anyone who judges you by the person you’re with is a fucking idiot.”

The person you’re with. The person you’re with. The person you’re with.

You would have given everything to stay in this moment in time, just to hear those words again and again.

Dwelling on what he said would have driven you insane, instead you tried to refocus your attention on more professional matters.

“Applies to you, too,” you voiced as you sat up, kicking your legs in front of you to face him. “I can’t be responsible for people who don’t trust me and the information I supply.”

You pressed your chest to your thighs and rested your arms across your knees.

“Is that so?” his eyes were affixed to you as he pressed a hand to your ankle.

He massaged your calf up to your knee, pushing your legs slightly apart with a strong nudge of his hand.

“Come here,” he beckoned with his touch, gesturing for you to take your rightful place in his lap.

His hands kneaded and gripped the soft skin of your ass, as he guided you to sit over him in a straddle.

“I mean it, Dave,” you steadied your words by squeezing his thighs with yours.

“How about this: The day I don’t listen to you,” he started, looking up at you with his hand gripping the back of your neck while his thumb caressed your jaw, “if shit hits the fan, you can always tell me I told you so.”

You brought your hand to his, rubbing his forearms, his biceps, and shoulders with tender hands. With a nod, you kissed him, withholding any further discussion on the subject for the time being. While the answer wasn’t quite good enough for you, for now, it would have to do.

#juice collective #dave york #equalizer 2 #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york x you #dave york smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #dave york apologist #murder daddy #suburban murder daddy

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sinon36 · 2 months

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Echoes of Salvation: The Deal (Part I). Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x afab reader (Zombie AU)

Part II

The story starts after the dash.

Warnings: some gore, some mistakes, some bad writing (eh… we all have to start somewhere), not proof read, some independent woman surviving on her own without the need of help from men (cause I like self reliant women and people in general, they are a great inspiration to us all, really).

Disclaimer:

Dear readers,

Please be kind. This is my first fanfiction ever that I wrote and posted, so please be kind and overlook any potential inaccuracies, mistakes, grammatical errors as I’m not a professional writer and also English isn’t my native tongue. Though I have studied British English I am sure I haven’t really managed to accurately portray the British way of speaking, so please, feel free to point out anything that might poke you in the eye while reading this.

Also, I would like to tell you that this fan-fic is the love child of my obsession with our favourite masked man Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, and my love for anything zombie apocalypse or world-ending alternate universe or actual universe. Tbh If I wasn’t a poor student I would probably be a prepper, just like Frank from HBO’s TLoU. Most likely will be. I’m a little weird like that, you’ll see more in the future.

To close this little rant, I hope you’ll enjoy it, even if it’s short, I would really like to continue this if you deem it worth it enough. This will probably be a slow-burn kind of romance: 1. because I’m a sucker for the kind of slow-burn strangers/enemies to lovers fanfics, and 2. because it’s more realistic, let’s calm the whore-y instincts and be reasonable people that don’t climb masked 6-feet-tall strangers like trees.

With everything said I do not own the Call of Duty character Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley (*whispers*Though I wish I did*) BUT I do own this piece of fanfic. Please don’t steal it. Repost it but please do give credit to other people’s work. You may notice some similarities to other fanfics, cause duh, I also read a lot of that, (isn’t that one of the incipient stages to becoming a fanfic writer?), but I would really like to give a shout out to the fanfic author that really inspired me to put fingers to keyboard and a fanfic into Tumblr, please, *drum rolls* a round of applause for @nsharks with her lovely fanfic ‘Bleeding Blue’. She’s really wonderful and you should really check her out.

Have fun reading and don’t forget to leave a comment or a heart. I wouldn’t mind suggestions of what to name Simons’ daughter. That would really make my day 😊

P.S. Sorry to all the fishing loving people out there, what I said was based on my impression of the fishing experience and should be taken with a grain of salt.

Yours truly <3

Synopsis:

It’s been five years since the outbreak happened. Five years ago, in London, a terrorist group released a virus in the city center. 24 hours later, people start developing flu-like symptoms. 48 hours later the infected turn into mindless ghouls biting healthy people and spreading the infection. Everything happened so fast. The army came in and tried to contain the outbreak but soon chaos engulfed the whole country. You learn that similar attacks happened all over the world: New York, Beijing, Moscow, Athens, and Tokyo. City by city, the whole world is ending.

You survived thanks to your mid-twenties life crisis that made you move into a cottage house by the lake in Lake District. The land you own is surrounded by thick lush forest that offers perfect cover for the tiny brick house that is your safe haven. With a water source close, off-the-grid energy, and a garden full of plants, fruit trees chickens, and whatnot, you live a comfortable life tucked away, far from the dangers of the cities. You are so far out of reach that in the past years you only saw a handful of infected, survivors that traveled far to escape and distant neighbours that got infected in the towns nearby. You can’t remember the last time you saw another person. But you are used to your loneliness. The end of the world brought only a mild inconvenience, now that you can no longer order things online and watch movies on Netflix or HBO. But with a library full of books, a homestead to keep you active and your Border Collie companion, Bellamy, life is good. Life is peaceful.

One day, while you are out fishing, a masked man, armed to the teeth and carrying a young girl in his arms threatens to kill you if you don’t provide him with medicine for his sick daughter.

The sky is cloudy above but some sunbeams break through to warm the crisp air this fine early spring morning. It’s a good time for fishing now that the water is warmer, they come closer to the bank in search of food. It’s a boring task after you arrange all your tools and launch the line in the water. It’s a game of waiting and watching for any small tugs or movement of the neon-coloured fishing line. You picked up fishing after a couple of months into moving here, when everything was a mess and so many repairs and renovations had to be made around the house. The guy from the tutorials you used to watch on YouTube talked about the calmness and relaxation fishing brought to him. Maybe you weren’t cut out to stand all day on shore and gawk like an idiot for hours at the thin plastic line submerged in the lake water. But you cannot deny the proud feeling catching a fish brought to you when the line finally went taught.

You try and ward off the boredom and instead try to focus on the warmth that spring brings after months of endless cold. The birds are singing in trees, preparing nests for future offspring, and the lake is calm, with bubbles on the surface indicating the abundance of fish. Life is good. Bellamy enjoys sunbathing next to you rolling in a patch of grass. Everything is peaceful. Nothing really happens here anyway. You close your eyes basking in the good feeling that overtakes you.

A branch snapping behind you wakes you from the meditation you have fallen into. You raise and turn from where you are crouched over your equipment. You come face to face with a strange figure.

‘Show me yer hands’ he tells you in a thick British accent, eyes focused on you and handgun aimed at your chest. He wears all black and a haunting white skull mask. He is tall, at least 6 feet tall, body poised to kill. In his other arm, you can see a little girl hugging his neck.

You slowly raise your hands. At your foot, Bellamy growls baring her teeth at the stranger sensing danger. You shush her grabbing her by the caller to keep her from attacking the armed man. You stand still watching in apprehension as the man studies you. You look at the ground where you left your backpack and your hatchet.

‘Don’t even think about it’ comes the gruff order. You nod trying to convey that you understand the situation. ‘There’s nothing in that bag worth a bullet’ you tell him in an even tone despite fear creeping down your spine. He hums in agreement. ‘And if you wanted to kill me you would’ve done it by now.’ He watches you like a hawk its prey. ‘So…’ you pause carefully measuring your words, ‘what it is that you want from me?’ he gestures you to take a few steps back and you drag Bellamy by her collar.

He kicks at the backpack spilling the contents. A bottle of water and a half-eaten sandwich, a hunting knife, and a rectangular box in which you keep the hooks, lures, fishing lines, and other small fishing equipment. He turns his gaze back at you and nods toward your dog. ‘Put a muzzle on it or I’ll shoot it’. your blood runs cold at the thought of losing your sole companion. You scramble to untie the scarf you keep tied around your wrist that you use to wipe away sweat from your forehead. You wrap the piece of cloth around the dog’s snout tight enough to not slip away. Next, the dark-clad man tells you to pack your fishing gear and collect your backpack, with one hand keeping it outstretched to the side and the other one grabbing at Bellamy’s collar guiding her forward. ‘Move. Eyes forward. Any sudden moves and I drop you.’

He walks a couple paces behind you. For how big he is you can barely hear him walk on the path. You can feel his gaze burning in the back of your head and the gun pointed at your back. As you start down the path you can make out the roof of your small house. Once you get at the gate you stop. ‘open it’ he instructs. ‘The key is in my right pocket’ you say slowly gesturing to said pocket. ‘Mhm,’ you hear him grunt. You slowly release Bellamy and fish for the key in your jacket’s pocket. You slowly take it out and put it in the keyhole turning it and opening the gate.

The familiar sight of your front garden does nothing to appease you in this situation. Bushes full of colourful flowers hug the narrow path toward the house. The wind catcher hung above your porch clinks melodically as a gust of warm wind catches on it. you take a few more steps on the stone path before you and you hear the gate closing behind you. What once was your safe space now traps you in with a stranger ready to shoot you or worse.

‘Tie the dog to that pole’ he orders you again. On your right, there is a small pole stuck in the ground. He throws a roll of paracord next to you. You don’t move at first. You had never tied Bellamy down before. You can’t even remember when you last put a leash on her. She likes to roam free and run around. The click of the gun behind you tells you that you have no choice. You drop the backpack and start to drag her to the pole. She tries to resist but you shush her and urge her to move. Once you finish tying her you turn towards the stranger. He nods towards the house and you start walking hands raised on either side of your head. Once you open the door he urges you inside.

‘Where do you keep the medicine?’ he grumbles urgently. ’Bathroom.’ you nod to the right of your living room. ‘Go get it!’ you don’t wait around you spring toward the white door. After a couple of minutes grabbing most of what you keep in the over-sink cabinet you emerge hands filled with gauze of all sizes and different bottled pills. You return to find the man placing the girl on the couch. She appears to be asleep. You almost forgot about her. She looks about 8-years-old. Brown hair is chopped short in a pixie cut. She’s wearing blue-washed jeans and a dark green hoodie that’s too big on her.

You watch as he peels the hoodie from her limp body. Underneath she wears a striped t-shirt, but what catches your attention is her left upper arm. Red stained gauze is wrapped around. You are still in your approach keeping a safe distance. ‘Was she bit?’ the words rush out in apprehension. From where he kneels next to her his eyes snap at you. ‘No’ he denies the implication of your words. ‘Put that on the table and go sit by the door’ You do as you're told eyes darting between the girl and the man. You drop everything on the coffee table and go sit by the entrance door hugging your knees. You watch as he works on bandaging the kid. Your eyes are glued to the girl’s arm.

Even though you lived so far out into the wilderness you saw pictures on the internet of bites from the infected. You read the posts of the survivors and heard the news broadcast on all channels. Then everything went quiet. The cable didn’t work and your phone had no signal. You knew shit hit the fan and that it was serious. Then, a few weeks later you saw your closest neighbour, Neil, an elderly farmer who lived about half a mile further up the river’s bank, growling and stumbling trying to catch Bellamy who was running scared towards you. You tried to talk him out of the trance-like state but to no avail. He kept stalking towards you, ready to take a bite out of you. You tried to tell him to keep his distance and warned him that you would protect yourself. The rest was a blur. You faintly remember grabbing the hatchet that you used to cut down logs for your stove. And then the struggle with the man, Bellamy barking, you crying out pleas for him to stop. In the cacophony of noises, you hit him with the blade right in the neck. The next thing you knew, your neighbour lay in a pool of dark blood hatchet still. It took you a while to register what you have done. You just killed a man. You couldn’t forget the way he lay there, on the gravel, hands stretched outwards bloodshot eyes staring emptily at the sky. That was the first time you encountered an infected. You distinctly remember the fear and adrenaline that took hold of you. The feelings that gripped your heart so tight and that made you take a life take over you as you watch the little girl, possibly infected, unconscious but on her way to the same madness that turned Neil into a savage monster all those years ago.

'She's feverish. You got meds or something to bring the fever down?' his question brings down from your rising panic at the thought of being stuck inside with a possible infected. ‘There should be some anti-inflammatory pills and some antibiotics. They are out of date but they could still work.' He grabs hold of the med kit you brought. He sorts through the drugs checking the expiration dates. When he comes across the antibiotics, he studies the pack carefully, his eyes darting back and forth from the label to the girl. 'How much can I give her?' he asks with a hint of concern his stern facade crumbling slightly.

You look at him unsure what to say. Those pills have been bought before the start of the outbreak. You doubt expired drugs have any effect anymore. You refrain from saying that though. He is stressed, he might take his anger on you. ‘She’s a kid, you mumble, so, about half of each.’ He carefully considers his next action. ‘She’ll need water to take them, you add from down the floor. And some food…’ He nods in understanding. ‘May I?’ you don’t know why you offer this stranger help. First, he disturbs you from catching dinner, next, he threatens to kill you and your dog, now he takes over your house and medicine. But you can recognize the desperation in his look, the way he fumbles with the packaging. He is a parent trying to save his kid. Even though you don’t have any of your own you recognize the parental instincts, the same ones you exert on Bellamy.

He looks at you unsure of what to do. He surrenders in defeat and nods at you to go on. You rise to your full height, which doesn’t add up to much compared to him. You walk past them all the way to the back of the living room where you disappear behind a white door. After a couple minutes, you reemerge from the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of steaming vegetable soup you made this morning. You slowly approach the couch watching him for any sign that you might cross a line. Instead of any aggression he takes a step back and allows you to go closer to the girl. You place the bowl and the glass on the coffee table and kneel next to the couch.

The girl opens her eyes and looks at you with distrust. Like father like daughter… you think to yourself. But you try to smile at her try to reassure her. ‘I brought you some soup, love’ you say in your most sincere and kind voice. ‘You must eat a little and then take some pills that will make you feel better’. You try to persuade her. She stares at you for a minute then at the man. They are suspicious of you and they have all the reason to be. You are a stranger to them as much as they are to you. Funny you are in the position to try and win their trust in your own home. You take the spoon you brought for her and dip it in the bowl. You take a spoonful and hover it close to your face blowing a little over it and then you swallow it. You can’t help the little moan of appreciation for your own cooking skills. ‘See? It’s good.’ You look at her with a small smile.

You don’t know where this came from; you blame it on the 6-foot-tall armored stranger whose stare drives daggers at the back of your head and your desire to keep your head on your shoulders and all your blood in your body. You don’t outright hate kids but you were never good around them. With a sigh, she sits upright and takes the spoon from you. She eats slowly. You keep watching her. She is a pretty kid. She has blue eyes and freckles on her small button nose. You wonder if she looks anything like the man behind you. She is pale and sweat collects on her little forehead most likely from her fever. She eats half of the soup you brought her and then turns her gaze towards the man. He hands her the two halves of the pills. She takes them in her small hand and grabs the glass. She hesitates. ‘It’s okay’ you reassure her and with a nod, she puts the half tablets on her tongue following up with large gulps from the glass. She scrunches her little nose in disgust at the chalky taste. ‘Atta girl’ you hear him utter from behind you. ‘Now lay down and rest.' he says to the girl in a stern yet gentle voice. He watches her nod and lie back on the couch her eyes half-lidded. He sighs, 'Good for now. ' he mutters under his breath. His eyes are fixed on her as he gestures to you. 'Come with me.' You rise from the floor and follow him outside the front door.

He leads you outside. When you cross the threshold, he takes a deep breath and a look of relief washes over his stern features. He gestures for you to sit on the front porch with him. 'We need to talk...' 'Yeah' you say crossing your arms defensively over your chest and standing as far away as the length of your porch allows. you take a moment to study him as he fixes you with a cold stare. You notice the many pockets on his vest and belt. A patch on his chest reads S.A.S. He's ex-military, you muse. His uniform makes much more sense now. But the mask still unnerves you.

He leans against one of the wooden porch support beams right hand hovering on the pistol holster. You think it's an act to intimidate you, to remind you that he is still armed and ready to strike you down in your own home. You stare at him a little defiantly. You’ll be damned before you let this weirdo intimidate you on your turf. He studies you from head to boots and back up. You sigh and square your shoulders showing him you are not afraid of him. ‘I’ve been watching you.’ He tells you in a matter-of-fact tone. You try to suppress the surprise on your face. You look down at his boots avoiding his icy gaze.

He’s been stalking you, and the realization dawns on you. You didn’t even notice his presence around the house. Stupid, you think to yourself, I’m growing complacent. But not even Bellamy caught his smell and she usually barks when someone or something comes close to the house. But earlier at the lake, he took you both by surprise. He’s good at keeping his presence concealed, you have to give it to him. You nod to yourself in understanding. He probably knows the layout of your house by now, he knows you are alone, and he waited for you to be outside and ambush you. You start imagining all the horrible things he could have done to you. But no, he instead approached you, gun pointed at you, nevertheless, when he could have already killed you and taken over your house by now. You hum and make eye contact with him.

‘Why keep me alive then?’ you ask him without beating around the bush. You study his mannerisms trying to catch something, anything to prove you he’s human. But he’s as unreadable as a statue. His gaze remains fixed on you, unblinking and stoic. You feel him studying you, taking in every detail of your person. He seems intent on reading into your every move.

In an even tone, he answers, 'Because you’re not a threat.’ His response catches you off guard, ego a little bruised at that, but you can’t argue with his logic. If he wanted to, he could have killed you by now, that’s for sure. You remain silent for a moment, processing his response. ‘But that doesn’t mean I trust you.’ He adds kicking off the beam and taking a step closer to you. He looks down at you tilting his head a little like a bird of prey watching a mouse, waiting for it to give chase and make the hunt more fun. You don’t give in to the urge to run inside and hide in your bedroom. Instead, you take a step towards him and look up at him ‘Because you need me’ you speak quietly. You can imagine a raised brow under that mask. You smile in triumph; even though he acts tough he needs help and all the intimidating façade was in a desperate attempt to get it.

‘I get it’ you continue having him figured out. ‘Your kid is sick and out there dangers are lurking at every turn. You need a place to stay until she gets better.’ You finish voicing your theory on why he’s really here having this conversation with you. His eyes closed in defeat. Gotcha, you smile even more widely at your deduction. ‘You can stay, you say as you turn and walk down the three steps of your porch heading towards the gate. ‘On one condition, you add stopping in your track. You turn fully towards him and he watches you curiously as if you’d have any power to demand him anything. ‘No harm comes to me or my dog’ you say remembering his earlier threats of him offing you both. ‘Do we have a deal?’ it’s not unreasonable, though it irks you that you have to bargain for your safety with a stranger. ‘Deal.’ He says in his usual gruff voice nodding to you in sign of respect for your demand.

‘Good’ you say as you stalk off towards where Bellamy lays muzzled and tied like a prisoner of war. You free her and she jumps at you happy to be in your proximity. She must have been worried sick here all alone. Poor thing. You then go to the gate and slide the too-large bolts meant to keep any unwanted guests outside. Or inside in your case. ‘And to think nothing interesting ever happens around her, right, Bell?’ your rhetorical question is met with a bark of agreement.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #zombie au #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty #slow burn #simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic

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soleilnomoon · 10 months

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Prompt: “I don’t like them; I can barely tolerate them.” for Abarai Renji. Once again, I leave it up to you what you wanna do (but maybe enemies to lovers) Yes, I might be on a little Bleach binge right now but it's okay you like it. kiss kiss

*hides face* ok, ok, ok, hear me out, let's pretend i didn't take *insert accurate length of time here* and say i wrote this in a few days. i am so sorry i took forever and ever with this but as u know i can only give u top quality work or else i'll never forgive myself. renji is.......well *motions to him* yk how that man is, he made me suffer!!!! in a good way!!! but still i suffered!!! yk how much i love enemies 2 lovers u big brained beauty 🤭 so ty baby❤️️ also this is my first renji fic and i can't belev it.

5.2k words (don't look at me, just don't), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni, enemies 2 lovers, angst city, angst angst city biiiitch (yk the vibez babey), smut obviously, no fluff bc who do u think i am? feat. renji being a mean petty bitch (i guess that makes him a mean dom maybe yes), sub reader bc that's what i want; there's a party with alcohol, ichigo and co. make brief appearances, bathroom sex, choking (he's sf romantic), a lot of cursing bc they're grown that's why, renji is a beast when he's jealous, reader is a lil bit of a brat but lbr who wouldn't be in that situation; mutual ""unrequited"" pining, lots of tension, fingering, rough (consensual) sex, lil bit of degradation, lil bit of a size kink, lil bit of praise kink, idk there's probably more stuff but i'm so tired rn i can't think; um renji obviously comes w his own gd warning; reader is determined to not let this man win but, hello, it's renji he always comes out on top wink wink. (if u see spelling errors/mistakes no u didn't hottie)

“when i write about all of this it becomes its own kind of violence. / i retell the story as myth, as if it were my own body devoured.” — caitlin scarano & “so much of love is violence. the desire / to be split open, invaded, mangled / and made new.” — erin slaughter

HATRED X TASTES X SWEET

you’ve never been cut out for this line of work, but your insistence on eliminating all your shortcomings is commendable. brave, even. it’s something you don’t really think about unless you want to spend the night half-drunk, rambling about the things you should’ve done but never had the courage to do.

like telling a certain red-haired, bullheaded lieutenant that he’s the most ridiculous and excessively arrogant man you’ve ever come across. all in all, you’re pretty sure telling him off won’t phase him; nothing ever does, not really anyway.

at first you try politeness; your grandmother would be proud of how well you’ve learned to bite your tongue. it’s ungraceful, but you fake it well enough that others think your emotional maturity is far above theirs. little do they know, you actually have to literally bite your tongue; simply remaining silent isn’t easy for you anymore. so, when you bite, it’s with rage, months of unshed tears and accumulated spite; you bite your tongue so hard you bleed more every time.

your unsaid words bunch together — tiny soldiers determined to strike in unison without fail — and sit heavily in the back of your throat, ready to launch forward at your command.

but you never say them, and you choke more than once; an unbearable shame to carry with you as he continues to slash at your patience, thin ribbons cascading off you like confetti. you wonder if your anger will lead to your death— or if it’ll lead to his. you intend to keep all of that hidden, though, and keep reminding yourself that eventually he will tire from berating you, from talking to you as if you’re the most incompetent being in all of soul society, from looking at you like your very being disgusts him.

that’s what you tell yourself these days. you like to conveniently ignore the way his dark eyes linger on yours during meetings — you’ve noticed that people have taken to describing them as soulless, cold and critical, unimpressed at everything and anyone.

but you see him — all of him; the raw, feral, powerful and severe side that not many have the misfortune of knowing. they think they get the real version of renji whenever they deal with him, but they never do; you know that now. you doubt it’s even intentional on his part, or maybe — just maybe — he really does hate you.

to put it plainly, as you’ve told rukia and rangiku, the sixth division lieutenant has the biggest fucking chip on his shoulder. despite the walls he continues to put up to keep others from carving out a place for themselves in his life, despite the way his words roll around his mouth, clumsily coasting down the length of his tongue before they pierce the air around you with their toxicity — you’re tired of the way he purposely singles you out time and time again to point out your inadequacies without remorse.

abarai renji is also sick of dealing with you. whenever he thinks he’s found a means of scaring you off, you scurry right back more determined and more obnoxious than ever. which is rich, coming from him.

he claims you’re inconsequential, a nuisance — a pest, even — one that he intends to get rid of permanently. it’s harsh and he’s more than aware of that, but he finds that this is the most appropriate solution to his problem. he could easily ignore you; he could try to keep his comments to himself and try to be somewhat cordial whenever you cross paths. but he won’t. and he has no damn idea why.

“no, no come in, i have plenty of snacks for everyone.”

rukia’s voice is a constant in his life that he’ll always be thankful for. he watches her glide into the room, grinning at the friends she’s invited over, her laughter like soft bells that is easily recognizable even with all the conversation happening. when he feels his chest constrict, an uncomfortable, yet familiar warmth stretching over his skin, he decides to drink so that he can ignore the sensation and forget.

a feeble attempt, because he knows how this will all end — with him drunk off his ass in an even worse mood than he started.

mouth opening, renji prepares to tell rukia to get better sake, when rangiku leads you into the living room where he’s lounging comfortably. the bottle in his hand grows heavier by the second and suddenly he’s not very interested in drinking anymore. already, his foul mood from earlier returns, and every step you take only fuels his irritation; it bubbles underneath his skin, making him frown and grip the bottle tighter.

you don’t need to look at him to know that he’s glaring at you — he always is. rangiku feigns obliviousness as she encourages you to go make yourself comfortable while she fetches snacks with rukia. you stare at both of them, wide-eyed, confused — a pleading look sliding onto your face after a few moments, but they assure you both that they’ll be back shortly.

with a sigh you sit on the armchair adjacent to him, determined to just remain quiet in the hopes that he’ll just ignore you for once. sitting up straight, discomfort finds its way to the pit of your stomach, swirling around as you fidget with the bracelet around your wrist. his eyes watch your movements with an obsessiveness that startles him; there’s no reason why he should be interested in the shape of your fingers, there’s no reason why he should be interested in the way you keep brushing stray curls away from your face, and there’s no reason why he should be interested in possibly fucking you when he knows for a fact that he is absolutely uninterested in you.

his disinterest runs so deep it spoils the taste of the sake, but he takes another swig anyway. the alcohol burns as it travels swiftly down his throat, and it just so happens that you glance over at him — innocuous, an attempt to gauge his annoyance level — as his throat bobs and your mouth dries at the sight.

you turn your face away quickly, a traitorous flush crawling slowly along your skin, unjustly warming your cheeks. inhaling deeply, you do your best to will the blush away to no avail. where the hell are rukia and rangiku? surely it can’t take that long to grab snacks. you’re tempted to go find them, but you have a sinking feeling that it would turn you into a coward.

and you refuse to give that man any more ammo against you.

IT’S X (NOT) X YOU

what initially starts as a small get-together, quickly turns into a party; leave it to rangiku to liven things up, her laughter infectious and whimsical, flitting about like a persistent hummingbird as she encourages everyone to play drinking games with her. experience taught him better than to engage because despite his high tolerance, there’s really no beating rangiku when she’s on a roll.

but when you emphatically agree to play with the rest, fury rises in his chest; your audacity, it seems, knows no bounds — and, yes, he understands the hypocrisy in his critique. he just doesn’t care.

the games are every bit as simple and ridiculous as you thought they’d be, but as everyone seems to be in relatively good spirits, you play along. not normally competitive with things like this, you get into the swing of things when you win round after round.

cheers resound nearby at your success, but throughout the evening, you feel renji’s stare and do everything in your power to not give in and look back at him. a tough feat to say the least, as you are always acutely aware of his presence; and when you do happen to sneak another glance, his legs are spread and you curse under your breath for finding that attractive.

foolish, you chide, so fucking foolish.

renji sucks his teeth as he feels a heaviness in his head; groaning loudly he swirls around what little sake he has left in his glass before finishing it.

“you lose again,” rukia’s voice is soft and teasing, but he’s annoyed and can’t be bothered with talking to her right now. she pats his shoulder gingerly before standing up to head to the kitchen. his mind is a mess and he blames you for it completely.

“i don’t fucking care,” he says gruffly to her retreating figure, not bothering to elevate his voice as he’s sure she heard him. and he really doesn’t care; he’s trying to tell himself to calm down, but he can’t.

the fault completely lies with you — of course it does, everything you do agitates every cell in his body. the reason is simple, and he hates that he doesn’t want to admit it — he’s so undeniably attracted to you that it pisses him off. he takes in your appearance for the twelfth time that night, admiring the softness of your cheeks, the fullness of your lips, the way you seem entirely too animated as you laugh at someone’s lame joke — and yes, he can tell it’s not funny from how your laughter dies down after a few seconds.

if he had better sense, he’d stop looking at you, but he can’t now; he might blame the sake for this later.

the intensity behind his gaze is enough to bring an inextinguishable heat along your skin. it’s only unpleasant because it travels down to your lower abdomen and brings about an agonizing ache between your thighs. at first, you do the sensible thing and ignore it; but the longer he stares, the more you want to look over, until finally you can’t take it anymore.

“i’ll be back,” you mumble to the other guests, although you doubt they hear you with how rowdy everyone is being; the noise isn’t unwelcomed, the distraction serves to mask your footsteps when you scurry from the living room to the back corridor, turning corner after corner until you find the bathroom.

a coward — that’s what you are.

you barricade yourself in there without thinking, heart pounding loud enough to disorient you. after several long minutes, you splash water on your face and take a few deep breaths.

“i can’t believe i ran away,” your voice is so soft you barely hear the words — almost as if you’re still in disbelief over the entire situation. there’s something off about renji tonight; the tension between you was more palatable and tangible than normal.

even though you feigned nonchalance as best as you could, there were so many moments where you couldn’t help but watch him too. pitiful. absolutely pitiful. there’s no excuse for it, and yet you struggle to find one anyway.

as you look at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you try to convince yourself to head back out there. sooner or later, people will realize that you’ve gone missing — and rangiku is nosy enough and like a bloodhound when she’s drunk. your time is incredibly limited now.

there’s no reason for you to continue to avoid the inevitable, so you sigh and give yourself a small pep talk before heading back outside.

TRUTH X OR X …

renji’s mood doesn’t improve at all; in fact, it worsens the moment ichigo sits right next to him. he’s not even sure why this sets him off, but even closing his eyes and counting backwards does nothing to keep him calm.

with slight difficulty, renji grits out, “what do you want?”

undeterred, ichigo stares at renji pointedly, voice steady as he says, “you could go after her, you know.”

again, renji sucks his teeth loudly, arms folded against his chest, right leg bouncing slightly as he taps his foot on the floor. punching ichigo would be pointless, and then rukia would get involved and he doesn’t have time to deal with the fallout from that so he keeps his hands to himself.

besides, his anger is obviously misdirected right now. he knows — he knows —but he doesn’t care, so he doesn’t mince his words when he responds with, “go after who?” through his peripheral, he can see ichigo’s patience has also reached its limit.

“you’re not that stupid, so stop acting like it.”

normally, renji would take the opportunity to mes s around and argue back and forth, but he might actually fight his friend if he doesn’t walk away. so, he does; abrupt and without looking back, footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor.

maybe he just needs to change his approach with you, maybe talking things out would work in his favor; or maybe he needs to fuck you hard enough to purge you from his mind.

he lies to himself when he considers the first option, because it’s the second option that drives him to walk a little faster, head full of impossible thoughts as he wonders just how far you’d let him go.

when renji finally finds you, you’re in the middle of rebuffing the advances of an unfamiliar guest — they’re drunk, handsy, and keep oscillating between giving you cheesy pick-up lines and berating you for rejecting them. but you stand firm, and your voice is relatively loud when you tell them, “for the last fucking time, go away.”

under normal circumstances, renji would let you handle this yourself; he has no desire to play prince charming or be a knight in shining armor. you’re more than capable, and he’s seen the way you fight and argue to defend yourself — but, it’s when they place a wandering hand on your hip that he loses sight of all of that.

a brief moment passes, where your blood boils as you contemplate how best to kick their ass, but you never get the chance. a rather large shadow hovers over you both, but you already know who it is without having to look properly.

renji is a force to be reckoned with on a good day, but he’s at his fucking limit right now.

he doesn’t ask, doesn’t give any options for retreat, doesn’t say a word when he yanks them off with a brute strength that surprises even you.

now, can he really be blamed for throwing them into the neighboring wall hard enough to make a noticeable hole? and is it really his fault that the drunk can hardly walk as they clutch their broken arm while murmuring something unintelligible, something that renji takes as a sign of them wanting a repeat demonstration?

consequences be damned, he gives the drunk a lethal look before they scramble away in fear.

“loser,” he says loud enough for them to hear, but they don’t double back or even try to go toe-to-toe with the hot-headed lieutenant. you watch, half-amused and half-impressed with the unnecessary machismo, but still, you know better than to chastise him right now, especially when your heart sputters out of control from his proximity.

“…thanks,” you say, a faint flush on your cheeks, voice soft, head fuzzy when you realize that renji — aka mr. “i’ll fight you on everything any day of the week unprovoked for no reason other than to drive you crazy” — saved you. unprompted at that.

you make the mistake of looking up at him, your nerves prompting you to take a small step back when you realize that the usual hostility that renji reserves for you specifically is nowhere to be found. in its place is something more unreadable — or, rather, you don’t want to read into it for fear of being wrong.

renji steps closer, which makes you back up again until your back hits the wall and you’re no longer able to escape.

“we need to talk,” he says suddenly, but you shake your head, non-verbally objecting to the idea, curls bouncing wildly with your exaggerated movements. since he knows he’s pressed for time, he grabs your face with his large hand and stops you from moving. “that wasn’t a request.”

swallowing rusty nails would be better than dealing with your conflicting feelings over renji right now, because he’s much too close to you and now you’re forgetting why it is you hate him in the first place. ironically, he’s in the exact same position. so far, he’s acted on impulse over you more times than he can count tonight, but he supposes that’s to be expected — you are a wildcard, after all.

“what if i don’t want to.” your response is clumsy, the words tumbling one after the other. “what if i want you to leave?” you don’t actually mean that, but you throw it at him anyway, to see if maybe this was all a fluke, and maybe, just maybe he’ll remember himself and you both can go back to fighting like usual.

he considers your question, goes so far as to release your face to wrap his hand around your throat instead. your sharp inhale and parted lips tell him all he needs to know.

with a slightly raised brow, he asks, “well, do you?”

because if you do, he’ll walk away right now. but he knows what your answer will be, he just has to drag it out of you. he squeezes your neck to remind you to hurry it up, and before you can answer him properly, he places his leg in between yours, pressing close enough that you roll your hips forward while whimpering softly.

he really didn’t think any of this through, but luckily the adrenaline from it all won’t wear off anytime soon, so he’ll improvise along the way. he spent most of the night dealing with a semi-hard cock that wouldn’t listen to reason no matter how many times he tried to stop thinking about you. but now? all of that restraint goes out of the window, and before he can question it, he kisses you.

you’ve kissed plenty of people in your life — some good, most were mediocre and uninspiring — but renji actually takes your breath away. everything about him commands all your attention; from the way his lips move against yours greedily, leaving behind burning kisses that make your nipples harden underneath your clothes — to the way he thrusts his tongue in between your plush lips, licking inside of your mouth hotly, igniting an inextinguishable flame deep inside of you.

he grabs your hip with his free hand, squeezing hard, fingers digging firmly. all the irritation from earlier dissipates completely, leaving you feeling lightheaded and needy; you grind against him recklessly, arousal dampening the front of your panties, clit sensitive as it rubs against the delicate fabric. his cock presses against you — thick, long, and hard — and you wonder if this is why he’s so angry with you all the time.

was it always that simple?

if you asked the question aloud, he wouldn’t know what to tell you — it’s a combination of things, but mostly he’s an idiot; he knows that now, but likewise you’re an idiot too. you just don’t realize it yet.

it’s renji who pulls away first, lightly panting, breath warm against your lips as he releases his hold on your neck. he doesn’t know where he finds the strength to string together a coherent statement, but his voice is low and husky when he speaks. “answer my question.”

you blink at him, completely in a daze, lips slightly swollen from all the kissing. “wh-what?” you don’t remember what he asked you, and you don’t care.

“do you want me to leave?”

for some reason, you completely forgot that you told him that. you rub your lips together and run your hands along his chest. “no.” the answer comes out automatically, without hesitation, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

“good.”

SAY X IT X LOUDER

he picks you up with ease, almost as if you weigh nothing; a small squeal spills out of you as you wrap your legs around his waist, and renji gives you a sly smile — one laced with mischief and an unspoken promise of what’s to come.

you’re back in the bathroom again, this time sitting on the counter with renji standing in between your legs. his hands coast along your curvy hips and down your thighs. he’s touching you but he’s not touching you and it’s driving you crazy.

with hurried, eager hands you both undress, and for the umpteenth time you internally curse this style of uniform; still, it doesn’t take too long before his hands are on you again, calloused palms rough and warm against your skin. he places a kiss on your jaw, then another on your neck right underneath your earlobe; each kiss he leaves behind distorts your common sense, makes you feel irrational and impatient. your hands are soft and well-practiced, stroking his stiff cock as his hips jerk forward from your touch.

he can’t remember the last time someone had him this worked up, which pisses him off a little; because that means him fucking you once won’t settle things. at that thought, renji bites your neck and your startled yelp quickly morphs into a moan when he runs his tongue along the mark. he dips his hand in between your thighs, rubbing his thick fingers against your slit. a loud banging on the door has you looking over, and you can’t remember if he bothered to lock it once you both were inside.

your attention nearly falters, but when he pinches your clit you buck your hips, a shiver shooting down your spine at the slight pain.

“eyes on me,” is all he says, seemingly annoyed that you would dare to focus your attention elsewhere, “always keep them on me.” what he means by that, he doesn’t know, but you take the command at face value and nod while swallowing. he slides a finger inside of your wet pussy, and while you initially wanted to keep quiet to avoid suspicion and to prevent anyone from intruding, but you can’t now.

“renji,” you breathe, fingers trembling as you hold onto the counter for support, he thrusts his finger in and out, quick and hard, before inserting another. you clench around him, hips rocking forward as he fingerfucks you and grinds his palm against your clit. you close your eyes and moan louder than you mean to, chest heaving, thoughts jumbled and incoherent. he scissors his fingers inside of you, but quickly removes them without prompting.

“fuck!” you open your eyes again and stare at him in disbelief. “why did you stop?”

he laughs darkly and grabs your face roughly, fingers pressing into your soft skin without remorse. “what did i tell you earlier?” everything about this situation is laughable. he gave you very specific instructions, ones he thought were easy enough for you to follow. for some reason your movements are sluggish, mind in a haze as you scramble to remember but nothing comes to mind.

as you open and close your mouth, looking every bit as adorable as you are alluring, he decides to show you a bit of kindness.

“get down.” his command comes swift, his patience practically nonexistent; precum glides down the head of his thick cock, but he ignores it for the sake of teaching you a lesson. you don’t bother waiting for him to repeat himself and slide off the counter. “turn around.”

like a doll, your movements are dictated by renji with simple, short statements. nothing about that phases you, though; it’s all very exciting, so when you do turn to face the counter, you bend forward and lean over the counter. renji admires the roundness of your ass and slaps it hard.

again, you find yourself moaning loudly, without shame and not caring about the volume of your voice. surely the others won’t pay attention, as they’re still very drunk and are entertaining themselves with more games. another slap on your ass has you grabbing onto the counter again, legs shaking, arousal dripping between your thighs in anticipation. if renji doesn’t fuck you soon, you might actually die.

he knows he’s taking too damn long, but it’s much more interesting making you work for him. he rubs the tip of his cock against your puffy pussy, gliding it in between your slick folds, your moans sweetly wrapping around him once he pushes inside of you slowly. someone bangs on the door again, making you look over, anxiety quickly filling your head with unnecessary what ifs that almost command your full attention.

with narrowed eyes, renji grabs onto your hair, curls soft in his hand, and yanks hard.

“the fuck did i say earlier?”

goosebumps travel down your arms as a different kind of awareness and clarity surges through you quickly. you blink at your reflection, watching the way he towers over you, his muscles hard and defined — sculpted from years of training and dedication to honing his skills. it hits you then, what he’s really asking you.

“to,” you swallow thickly, throat dry, “to keep my eyes on you always.” you say it all in one breath, gasping when he runs his tongue along the curve of your ear. you don’t know how much more you can take, but you know if you complain, if you say anything he might stop altogether.

renji’s smile is wicked and dark, his lips graze your earlobe, voice deep and gravelly, a huskiness that wasn’t there before as he thrusts into you, burying his cock deeply.

“good girl.”

he refrains from kissing you properly, instead pushing you down so you can lean over the counter again. your mind melts from it all, and you’re panting, heart beating faster and faster as he firmly places a hand on your back.

“you’re squeezing me so tight,” he remarks thoughtfully, although you note the slight strain in his voice; as much as he tries to act like he’s not that affected by you, you know that isn’t the case at all. your pussy is every bit as enticing and heavenly as he knew it would be; he pulls back and slams his cock into you all over again, filling you completely. you try to keep watching him in the mirror, but he’s fucking you like he’s angry with himself for being so attracted to you.

and he absolutely is. it’s a truth he fought against for so long that he’s given up on denying it now. your moans drip onto his skin like caramel, sticky and sweet, and when you say his name like that — your voice going higher and higher from the ferocity of his thrusts — he nearly loses his mind.

“fuck,” he says out loud, grabbing your hip roughly, your wetness coating the length of his cock, “you’re taking me so well.” he knows you can’t really answer him, and he likes that; you’re beyond caring at this point, instead focusing on the way his cock reaches a spot that has you bouncing your ass and fucking yourself against him. normally, renji would play around and edge you in retaliation, but he’s too far gone, completely under the spell of your pretty pussy, with how soft and tight it is.

you’re not sure how you got here, but you’re drowning in ecstasy right now. he instructs you to lift your leg to rest it onto the counter, pulling out momentarily to help you position and spread your legs further apart. he plunges his cock into you again, keeping his hips closer as he gives you shorter, frenzied thrusts. your head spins and you can’t think straight, but that doesn’t matter. all you care about is the way renji is angling his hips, rolling them forward to pound into your cunt roughly, balls heavy as they smack against your ass.

“oh, oh, oh.” you swear your life flashes before your eyes, because something possesses him, his strokes shorter, brutal, and frenetic. drool slides down your chin, your voice hoarse from how loud you’ve been. you’re sure someone’s heard you by now, but you don’t care.

how can you?

with renji fucking you like this — merciless and possessive, fingers brusing your skin, almost as if he wants to make sure you’ll be as obsessed with him as he is with you — your common decency, your morals, everything that makes you you, they don’t exist.

all that’s left is this burning desire to let him have his way with you for as long as he wants. thankfully, you have enough sense to not admit that out loud; who knows what kind smugness you’ll be subjected to if renji knew.

but you’re pretty damn transparent about it, he can tell from the way you can’t stop clenching your pussy around his cock, from how your pussy makes loud, lewd squelching noises — ones that he’ll commit to memory so he can revisit them from time to time.

tears roll down your cheeks and you sob as you hold onto the counter as best as you can, back arching, hips rocking against him with a neediness you never knew you had. there’s a tightening in your stomach and your pulse skyrocketing as a flash of white practically blinds you. he watches the way your pussy keeps swallowing the length of his cock, and you finally fall over the edge, orgasm suffocating you with its intensity.

your cunt flutters around him, gummy walls soft and hypnotic, an addiction he never thought he’d have; breathing heavily, his muscles tense and renji groans something that suspiciously sounds like your name. the thought alone makes your face burn and warms your chest in a way that doesn’t make sense. and when he finally cums, he humps into you, cum thick and hot as it spills inside your pussy, mixing with your slick wetness. a completely messy affair, but he doesn’t care — it’s not his bathroom, after all.

legs trembling, you’re limp and incapable of movement, whimpering and whining until he finally pulls out of you.

renji runs a hand down his face, feeling spent but more than satisfied. suddenly his shoulders aren’t so tight and tense, and his mood is much more tolerable. you do your best to stand but almost fall — your legs are useless, turned to jelly because of the man behind you. he chuckles at that, then clears his throat once he realizes. he fully expected there to be a moment of awkwardness after, but it never comes. when he sees your face — lips bruised and swollen, face flushed, eyes glazed with a faraway look — he feels compelled to kiss you again. so, he does. it’s not sweet, nor is it tender, but it still makes your heart swell all the same. he holds you close as you wrap your arms around his neck, doing your best to keep standing, even though your legs are ready to give out.

you don’t know exactly what any of this means, but you do understand him a bit better now. he’s terrible with expressing himself, but you kind of like that about him; and maybe this isn’t the healthiest relationship, but life was uncertain and you’d take renji fucking you like it’s his last day alive over him openly hating you any day.

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