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liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

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Seven Stages of Being thrown into Teenage Superherodom

Stage 1: Panic

@marijon-week Day 1: Blue Eyes / Identity Reveal

@t1dwarrior-of-earth

Here *** Second

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Ever since Fu made her Guardian she left Paris. The Kwamii convinced her that the stress of being ladybug and the mental, and now physical, abuse of her classmates has become too much. Her parents also noticed her shift and they supported her leaving.

This was how she found herself in Blüdhaven. She was a student at Gotham Academy, but with Gotham's high crime rate they wanted somewhere safer for her. Sure she could have also chosen Metropolis, but the commute from Blüdhaven was shorter.

She will be the first to admit that it wasn't ideal, but for her mental health it was great. And with complete honesty and sincerity she wouldn't change a thing.

You see one thing that apparently gets overlooked is that Nightwing is the resident vigilante of Blüdhaven. Even more is the fact that he happens to be her neighbor.

OK so maybe a little bit backtracking here. Marinette may have figured out that her next-door neighbor, Detective Richard Grayson, happens to moonlight as Nightwing at night.

So the building they had chosen for her was extremely safe, however they didn’t take an account Marinette's extremely packed and late work schedule. With how Marinette would still be awake in the early morning hours, and if she heard a thump of boots on the balcony next to hers regularly, she is going to look out the window eventually.

When she does, she sees Nightwing at her neighbor's apartment. Which could be one of two possible reasons why Nightwing could be there. One, his significant other lived in that apartment and he just came regularly. Or two, he lived there and assumed every sane person was asleep.

Her question was eventually answered one night when she was at the desk next to her balcony door, she heard boots like normal, but this time they were closer than normal, this time they were on her balcony.

The door moved, causing her to turn and focus on the door. That was when a male voice muttered, I thought I left it unlocked like always.

So most people would have quietly left, but she wasn't most she opened the blinds. She is pretty sure she had a stare down with him but its difficult to say because at the mask.

However after countless akuma attacks, you tend to figure out who the target is, which is what she did. Same height, same rough build, same hit and skin tone, combined with her ability to recognize figures for fashion, that gives you Richard Grayson. Without breaking eye contact she got up, stepped to the door, opened it and pulled him in, shutting it and the blinds, turning to face him. Then is when she noticed the blood near his hair line and down his neck.

“There better be an extremely good reason why this happened Mr. Grayson.” She looked innocently at him, “because I don’t know how to explain.” She gestured to him now seated at her desk. She pulled out her first aid kit and started checking him.

“How did you find out?”

“Night owl,” she shrugged. “I hear you come in every night and well um, well...”

“Curiosity got the best of you.” She nodded.

Of course this was when her phone would go off, she grabbed it, opened it, and groaned, because of course she was being called a Paris in the middle of the night, morning over there.

“You know what you're still alive, just a superficial head injury, but I have to go.” She said moving towards her bedroom when Mr. Grayson finally reacted.

“I’m supposed to… you said you were 14 right?” She nodded. “I’m supposed to let a 14 year-old leave in the middle of the night?”

“I am, I can explain in the morning.” She tried to justify, but he wouldn't let go of her wrist. So in a leap of faith, she gave him a quick rundown of the Paris situation and why she had to leave. If after this Blüdhaven had another vigilante well no one else knew why, Trixx loved it though. And she had someone who not only knew who she was but knew how to help and train her. Even if he acted more like a brother to her.

After all the eyes are the windows to the soul, and as a true guardian and a pure soul of creation, she knows that she can trust Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson’s.

- - -

It’s almost humorous that the next pair of eyes she would this come to trust were a blue so electric that they seemed to hold Lightning itself. Those eyes belong to one Jonathan Samuel Kent.

She had actually met John while in class at Gotham Academy, but nothing much more than their initial meeting and a good morning in the halls. This was pretty much because he seemed to stick with Damian Wayne, the ice Prince of Gotham. And green eyes always hurt her in the past, so she mostly stayed away from them.

However the fates had another plan for them. A group project, yay was sarcastically running through her head because of course, the two people she was partnered with happened to be two pairs of eyes that made an impression on her originally.

“So, should we go to your place, or should we go to the library, oh maybe we should go to Damien’s, or maybe mine to work on this.” Jon rapid fired at her and Damian, as they well she moved in order to talk about the project.

“I um... I’m not exactly...” she couldn’t even finish the sentence before Damian butt in.

“Tt figure this out and inform me later.” With that he go up and walked away. And go figure her assumption that everyone with green eyes were complete and total dicks is just reinforced. Because if you’ve never had a good experience with anything or anyone who shares the same traits why would it be any different now.

“Maybe we should just meet at the café or at the library just get this over with.” She got up with the bell, turned on her heel, leaving Jon sitting at the desk she just vacated.

She heard of a soft, “oh ok” as she walked away.

But of course nothing ever was easy in her life. Because the next thing she knows she hears foot falls behind her, they were actually picking up speed, and then stomps as if they were trying to stop right behind her. That was when I hand wrapped itself around her wrist making her spin and face the person who grabbed her.

In that moment she didn’t think, she reacted, she reacted like every other time one of her classmates decided to hurt her. It was a motion that came as naturally as breathing while in her civilian form, so much so that she would bet her heartbeat wouldn’t have changed. She dropped the books and book bag from her arms and shoulder lifting her arms defensively to protect her head and she pushed her shoulders forward , defend her head, in an attempt to stop a blow. But the swing never came, no weight, no pressure, no kick, no pain, just silence.

She tentatively opened her previously shut eyes eyes and looked forward, towards where the hand had originally pulled her, to the person who pulled her, she saw Jon, shocked at her reaction and then that turned to fear almost, it seemed to her, as if he was wondering if he did something wrong, if he hurt her, quickly she tugged her arm away from him and dropped to the ground and tried to pick up her items. However what shocked her was that he also dropped down and tried to help her pick up her things.

She looked up as he handed her a stack, “I forgot to ask you for your number so we can do a group chat. Are you OK?”

“Oh yeah yeah I’m fine.” She pulled a pen quickly from her bag and a sticky note, she usually uses to annotate her sketches and class notes come on, “here.” She handed him the piece of paper, Marinette got up and started to walk away again, as to not miss her next class.

By the end of the day, she found out that Jon can can text her head off. She always tries to respond to text quickly but this boy spammed the chat trying to get to know her better. If she was Damian, and she figured he did, she would’ve silenced the conversation, but it would be rude of her not answer.

Eventually they did figure out a an arrangement, Damian was going to go meet a brother after school so he wouldn’t be available meaning that she and Jon would start the project. So they decided to open a chat just between the two of them and figured it out from there.

Seeing as both of them lived outside of Gotham they decided it would be a little bit safer to meet at Marinette’s and John would leave from her apartment. And that is what they did, together the two of them left Gotham Academy after school, took the train to Blüdhaven and got into study mode. They worked in relative peace, researching and writing down ideas until there was a knock on the door. Marinette made her way up to the door, looked through and there stood Dick. So she opened the door, yet what got her attention was not just her pseudo Brother but the person who is with him. This person just happened to be the missing member of their project group, Damian.

“Hey Mari, I thought I would introduce you to my baby brother!” He beamed then noticing the other person in the room. “Hey Jon.” He greater and then took a double take “Jon!!!”

“Hey Dick, Damian.” He smiled.

“Tt. Anyone care to explain this.” Damian glared between her and his brother.

“Wow something the boy wonder doesn’t know.” She muttered under her breath, apparently it wasn’t quite quiet enough as some reacted.

“She knows?!?” Jon directed towards Dick and Damian.

“Know what?” She bit the bullet.

“Boy Wonder!?!” He seemed to shout just loud enough to get their attention. This did cause a reaction, Dick almost looked proud but Damian seemed ready to attack her.

“Okay I knew you were clever but seriously?!”

“Not the time Dick!” She moved so the kitchen island was between her and Damian. That was when something clicked Boy Wonder, Robin, Damian is Robin. Dick is Nightwing, both work with Batman. Jon heard her the others didn’t, Robin is close with… oh sweet honey iced tea. “ Dick please please tell me that I’m wrong!”

“I’m going with no your right.” Thump went her head as it fell onto the counter unrestrained.

“Why can’t my life be normal?” She asked no one in particular.

“You are a magical girl who can use the power of mini sized gods who you also protect.” Dick supplied ever so helpfully.

“Not helping!” She glared at him.

“Your life wasn’t normal long before we met.”

“Still.” She grumbled. Damian and Jon were now watching her and Dick interact as if trying to figure something out. Ping. Her phone went off. “Oh come on.” She fell back on the counter.

“Who is it this time?” Dick asked.

She tossed the phone to him. “I hate elementals.” A livestream of Stormy Weather ravaged the city of Paris.

“Cookies?”

“Cookies, I’ll be back.” He tossed her a box from her pantry. Special macaroons for the kwamii.

“Wait! Let me come with you.”

“And how many times have I told you that would be a bad idea.”

“But…”

“No, don’t make me call Honey Bee to venom you again.”

He slowly backed up and sat on the couch dragging Damian with him. “I’ll um… I’ll hold down the fort. Don’t call Goldie.”

“I won’t.” She turned to go to her room. “Oh there is fresh cookies in the jar.”

She silently transformed and portaled away. Luckily her team was already there and they made quick work of the Akuma. Meaning she was back near instantly.

“That was quick.”

“Viperion was there.”

“How many times?”

“Dunno.”

“Liar.”

“Am not.”

“You are.” Jon interjected into their bickering.

“Who’s side are you on anyways?” She asked out.

“I have no idea.”

“Great we broke Superboy.” She plopped down on the couch next to a stunned Jon. “If only… Fluff.”she smiled, and knowing that smile Dick panicked. “Fluff. Hey Fluff.”

“Oh no time travel is what got you into this time travel will not get you out.” Dick jumped landing on her keeping her seated.

“What it’s going fine?!“ Jon screamed at them, looking pretty close to a mental break down, she should know.

“You didn’t explain anything did you.” She looked on up from her position under a pile of a Dick and pillows.

“I was meaning to come up with the cookies were good and kind of had my mouthful.”

“OK great so here’s the rundown. Hello my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I was chosen at the age of 13 to wield the Miraculous of the Ladybug which grants me the power of creation and healing. I moved Blüdhaven and enrolled into Gotham Academy because of my utterly deteriorating mental health as a result of bullying in my previous school. Not to mention the magical terrorist who prays on sad or negative emotions, who happens to be using the Miraculous Butterfly or the miraculous of transmission. My partner uses the miraculous of the black cat which grants them the power of destruction, but he’s a total and complete asshole, but that’s not surprising. I was then given full guardianship of every single miraculous in the Chinese zodiac box, the most powerful of all of them the tender age of 14. I figured out that Dick was Nightwing about a month after I moved in and afterwards I have been going out into with him as he’s in as the vigilante Vulpes. And I literally just figured out you are Robin,” she pointed at Damian. “And you are Super Boy,” she pointed at Jon, “because of you’re a little outburst. I would not have figured it out otherwise! And I’m totally not I am going crazy because now there is a total of three people who know my identity in another country, no less, and I’m sure I can figure out the rest of the Bat family from here but I so I don’t want to.“ She was able to breathe now, after having explained this in just under a minute.

She looked between both Damian and Jon noticed they both looked as if she was either crazy or that certainly made a lot of sense, or a mixture of both she really can’t tell.

“You were bullied.“ Jon seemed to only take away. “That actually explains earlier.” He said just load enough for her to hear, as they were still next to each other.

“I’m not going over this again.“ She huffed, causing Dick to roll off of her laughing onto the ground and she followed suit. “You know there’s a reason I’ve always trusted blue eyes.” That was the beginning of and inseparable friendship between her and Damian, and something more between her and Jon.

None of them quite knew that at the time.

~~~~~~~~~~

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

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Melting Wax, Crawling Vines: Part 11 (Vincent Sinclair x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter

Warnings: smut, oral, fingering, cum-eating, trauma, blood/gore, hypersexuality as a way to cope my dudes

Word Count: 3846

The smut chapter I promised is finally here

It had been a month and you'd been thinking about it. You knew you shouldn't have. That it did nothing to help you. That going over the events over and over in your mind would only bring back more pain. But, like a wound on the inside of your cheek, you couldn't help but touch it.

You were pouring your cup of coffee, thinking about the blood. The gore. The broken face and his final cry. You thought about what he'd been trying to tell you, what he'd been trying to get at. The wax bodies all over town. He'd mentioned your type, and, for a moment, you wondered if you really were just attracted to crazy. You shook your head. Vincent wasn't crazy. Bo on the other hand. Maybe. But Vincent was lucid. And he still did the thing he did. You bit the inside of your cheek. Okay, maybe your track record wasn't amazing. And maybe if you'd listened to him-

"Shit." You said, feeling the hot coffee touch your hand. Your thoughts had gone elsewhere for too long, to the point where you'd overfilled your cup until the coffee spread across the counter and down onto the floor. You were quick to grab some paper towels to clean up your mess, and Vincent was reaching over to help you. He quickly signed,

"You okay?" And you gave him a nod. It wasn't a lie. Physically, you hadn't been hurt more than a minor shock of the initial burn. Mentally, however? That was another story. You ended up dumping out a little bit of your cup, just so you wouldn't end up spilling it on your way down to the workshop.

You spent all of your time with Vincent. You went down to his workshop with him, carrying your coffee and your breakfast. You were going to spend some time reading, maybe take a nap, and try your best to hold onto your slipping sanity. Vincent, despite his hobby, was a big help. He understood that the whole event was traumatizing, and your hesitance to really leave the safety of the workshop. It was away from the rest of the world, perfectly hidden and the perfect place to recoup yourself. He would let you lay in his bed, reading, sleeping, or even prepping for some more lessons for the others.

But, after you finished eating, you couldn't find it in you to pick up the book you'd left on the side of Vincent's bed. You knew you could try your hand at drawing, as Vincent had offered to let you use any of his notebooks and had given you some of his own lessons. After a moment, you asked for some of his pencils and he was quick to offer you a variety of drawing tools. Charcoal, pencils, pens, markers. You almost wanted to ask if he had crayons. You chose a simple pencil, before you reached for one of his notebooks and began flipping through the pages. Vincent always let you use whatever you wanted. He had plenty of notebooks, plenty of tools. It was rare that he'd ever need all of them, and he always told you that it was all at your disposal.

So, you hadn't expected to find what you did. You knew that Vincent drew you. Hell, you'd posed for some of his drawings. But this was not the usual portraits you found. You flipped further, quickly figuring out that this notebook seemed to have one specific purpose. Part of you wanted to just tuck it away and pretend you never saw anything. And another part of you wanted to tease him ruthlessly for it.

Finally, you decided on the former. You tucked that particular notebook away, looking for a different one for you to begin sketching in. As much as you just wanted to draw whatever came to mind, you found the only thing that came to mind was Vincent.

You and Vincent had kissed and done some light touching, but your original path had been undoubtedly slowed by what happened with your ex. Vincent didn't want to push, you knew. So, the most you'd done was a few light kisses that you'd initiated, and it was always nothing more than something to relieve some of your stress or to bask in the comfort of the early morning. You were aware that Vincent was inexperienced, but it was almost reassuring to see that he did desire you. Even if he planned on keeping it to himself.

You stared at him for a moment. You watched the way his hands moved, how they moved with the utmost precision and certainty. How his movements were both gentle and sure, like a well oiled machine. The muscle you knew he possessed was covered by a sweater that hung off of him, and his long black hair was tied back at his neck. You wished for this morning to return, wished that you'd spent more time running your hands through it. Well, you knew you'd get to play with it when you settled for bed.

You drew him until Vincent was done with his pet project, a lamp for the upstairs bedroom. When Vincent came over to peek at what you'd been drawing, you thought you could see a crinkle in his eye and you watched the way he played with his hands. He was embarrassed, you could tell, and, after a moment, he signed,

"Me?" And you gave him a smile and a nod. He turned away, busying himself by fixing his ponytail. But you knew he was pleased. You smiled to yourself. Even if it wasn't as good as Vincent's, he still liked it. He grabbed the lamp, holding it with one arm. You were quick to say and sign,

"You're going upstairs?" And he gave you a nod. After a moment, he moved it in his arms to comfortably sign,

"You don't have to come." He said, and you bit your lip. You knew that he knew you liked to avoid the House of Wax as much as possible. After everything that happened there, he understood. You frowned. It had once been your favorite place in all of Ambrose. You glanced down the hallway. But you didn't really like being alone in the basement either. You sighed, deciding that you'd rather face your issues than stay alone in the basement.

"It's fine. I'll come." You said, and you pulled on your slippers and one of Vincent's sweaters over your pajamas. You couldn't ignore how Vincent seemed happy, even if he wouldn't say anything. He held out his hand for you, and you took it and gave it a squeeze.

He guided you through the underground tunnels, even if you'd been going through them long enough to know where to go. He walked up the steps, and you absentmindly reached out to touch the faces carved into the walls as Vincent walked in front of you. You were following him like a lost little puppy, your mind elsewhere as you tried not to let memories of what happened the month before flood your mind. Surprisingly, you were able to find a pretty good distraction.

You thought about the images that Vincent had drawn, all the positions he must've imagined. Even if he was inexperienced, he definitely had quite the imagination. As Vincent guided you and you trailed behind him silently, your mind flooding with different images of all the ways Vincent could take you. On your back, one your stomach, on your knees. You tried not to blush as you thought a particular angle that made it clear Vincent had been imagining something slightly more self serving.

It made it so you could completely ignore all the terrible reminders of what you'd done, up until you were in the wax bedroom Vincent had created. You glanced at the bed, immediately imagining Vincent in-between your legs. And then you in-between his . It was almost unfair. Vincent seemed to know about every little dip and curve you had, how he knew that you'd figure out another time, but you had barely seen anything. A couple of flashes here or there, but Vincent was shy. He kept his clothes on even when you did some experimental touching. You bit your lip, just before Vincent signed,

"You okay?"

***

Vincent knew this was a bad idea, but he didn't want to force you to stay in the basement. Any time you came up into the House of Wax usually didn't end well, and his nerves only grew as your silence stretched on.

He watched how you bit your lip, refused to meet his eyes. How you seemed far off and in your own head, millions of miles away from him and where you were. He thought the flush on your cheeks was just from the heat of wearing his sweater. Why would it be from anything else?

Even when you nodded and assured him that you were fine, Vincent didn't believe you. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew he should've just waited until you went to take a nap. Then, he could've slipped away and been back before you ever knew the wiser. Instead, he'd brought you here and now you were- His self deprecating paused as you reached a hand under his sweater.

His hand instantly went around your wrist, but he didn't pull it away. It was out of surprise more than anything, but his grip quickly relaxed. Still, his bigger hands circled your wrist as your hand moved. It was just the lightest of touches, your fingertips barely brushing against his skin. You were touching the flesh of his side, before your hand was sliding up and you were moving your palm across his abdomen. Feeling his happy trail, before teasing the edge of his sweatpants. He stared down at you, watching as you gazed up at him. You were still biting your lip, your cheeks were still flushed, but he finally noticed the way your pupils had blown out and- Oh . Vincent wasn't the most experienced. It's probably why it took him this long to figure out what you'd been thinking about. Or what he assumed you were. A quick thought told him he was being silly, that you couldn't possibly want that.

Even as you leaned up to nip and kiss at his collarbone, as your hands pushed his shirt up further and felt the expanse of his chest. Even as you leaned forward to suck a hickey into his chest, leaving him practically trembling. He didn't believe you could want him like that up until you whispered,

***

"Vincent, can I touch you?" You watched as a look of surprise was quick to flit through his eye. He gave you a nod, almost a jerk of his head compared to his usual slow movements. You gave him a grin, before you were sliding your hand under his pants. You'd never been so bold before with him, but you couldn't help it. You wanted to know. Wanted to feel the weight in your hand. On your tongue.

You barely had to brush your fingers against the front of his briefs before you could feel that he was half-hard already. A few more light brushes and he was straining against the material of his underwear. Vincent let out a soft noise, the sound of a puff of air hitting his mask. You had barely touched him, but he already looked half-wrecked. It occurred to you then that Vincent probably wouldn't last long, and it was strange to you. To hold power over someone.

You pushed his sweatpants down his narrow hips, sinking onto your knees in front of him. He practically jumped when he realized what you were doing, and you quickly asked,

"Is this alright?" But he was quick to nod. He leaned back, resting back on the dresser he'd made. He motioned for you to continue, and you smiled up to him as you leaned forward to nuzzle the crotch of his pants. Your nose bumped along his clothed cock, before you were giving it an experimental lick through the fabric of his underwear. You heard him sigh again, and you watched as he tightened his grip on the edge of the dresser. "You're so handsome, Vincent." You whispered the praise, kissing along the waistband before you were tugging his underwear down. You looked up, seeing that his flush was heading down his neck and towards the tips of his ears. Once again you asked, "You're okay, right? You'll tell me if you want me to stop?" He'd started to fist his sweater, to bring it up to hide his face. He gave you another quick nod and you pulled him free. You gave him a few experimental pumps, leaning in to lick along his shaft to lubricate your hand. You watched how Vincent shivered at the feeling of your wet appendage, and you had to bite back a satisfied grin. After that, you didn't waste any time wrapping your mouth around the head of his cock.

You sucked him off slowly, flattening your tongue against the underside as you bobbed your head half-way. He was big, as big as his height and the size of his hands may have suggested, and thick. Even if you were more experienced than him, you found it difficult to fit him completely down your throat.

His hands tugged and pulled at the fabric of his sweater before one of them was cupping the back of your neck. He tilted his hips forward, rocking his hips ever so slightly with every bob of your head. This was the most noise you ever heard Vincent make. He let out little groans and sounds, half-keened whines and breathless gasps. He shivered and trembled with every flick of your tongue. You held his hips, thumbing them as you stared up at him through your lashes. He was keeping his head tossed back, his eye firmly closed from what you could tell. But when he'd finally looked down at you and made eye contact with you, you practically felt his resolve snap.

His hand moved from your neck to the back of your head. He only pressed your head down farther for a few thrusts, ones that practically slid his cock all the way down your throat, before you felt him tense. He held your head, doubling over as he slid his cock down the back of your throat. You could feel his cum hitting the back of your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow around his cock. You could feel tears in the corners of your eyes, and you tried to blink them away as you focused on trying not to gag. He let out a strangled sound, no doubt feeling the muscles of your throat work around his cock. His hips stuttered, before he was pulling out with panting breaths. He leaned back against dresser, his head falling back and strands of his hair falling out from his ponytail from where he'd gripped at it. You almost wished you could take a picture.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, watching him as he calmed himself down and you helped him tuck himself away. You lifted yourself to your feet with his help, and he signed a simple,

"You okay?" And you nearly laughed. Vincent seemed to ask you that at least five times a day.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" You asked, prodding his chest. You heard him laugh, a soft and raspy sound. He gave you a nod, even if it still seemed like he was collecting himself. He reached out, running a hand through your hair before settling his palm against your cheek. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, running over the sensitive skin. You hummed, parting your lips and sucking his thumb into your mouth. You barely realized what you were doing before you did it, but you gave his thumb a slow suck as you ran your tongue over it. You watched as his eye darkened once more, and you squeaked when he pulled his hand away and tugged you up like you didn't weigh a thing.

You squealed and laughed when your back hit the wax mattress, which, despite looking comfortable, was only slightly less forgiving than if he'd shoved you against the wall. But you barely had time to think about that. Vincent was quickly pushing his mask away from his face and you shut your eyes out of habit. You felt his lips clumsily press against yours, and his confidence was either from the month of practice or from the rage of desire that was flooding his system. He boxed you in with one arm, his other hand quick to trace all the parts he'd already memorized. You giggled. You couldn't help it. You'd never felt Vincent so eager, so confident . It sent the rush of a thrill through you, and you were wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest against his to get him as close as possible.

"Touch me, touch me, touch me," You practically begged, your legs curling around his hips and drawing him closer. He groaned at the press of his front against yours, undeniably sensitive from before. He drew his lips from yours, mouthing down your cheek to your jaw until he reached your neck. His fingers weren't moving fast enough, and you pressed your chest against his hand to urge him further as he fondled you through your shirt. Even as he slipped his hand underneath, teasing and gently twisting your nipples, you knew it wouldn't be enough. You rolled your hips against his, trying to get any sort of friction as you tugged on his black strands of hair. He moaned against your skin, before his lips were attempting to clamp back onto yours. You begged for more, and Vincent wasn't one to keep you waiting. His hand rubbed you through the fabric of your bottoms, and he swallowed the moan that left your lips. He traced your heat through the fabric, pressing hard enough to feel his touch.

It wasn't enough until his hand was slipping inside, slipping past your panties and running his bare fingertips through the folds of your cunt. You whined, gripping his shoulders and bucking your hips against his hand. Vincent pulled away from the kiss, but you were too distracted to care as you guided his fingers over your aching clit.

***

Vincent was watching you, memorizing the expressions you made as you screwed your eyes closed and gasped. You gasped and whined, bucking and practically throbbing against his hand. When he dipped his fingers inside you, he found feel your walls sucking his fingers up. Trying to drag them deeper and swallow them in your warm, wet heat.

His cock was already heavy and hard in his sweatpants again, but he fought the urge to grind against your thigh as he fingered you. This was about you. He pressed the heel of his palm against the spot you'd lead him to, watching the way you shuddered and trembled underneath him. He drew everything in, only muffling your sounds when he needed your lips against his.

He kissed you anywhere his lips reached, trying to silently tell you how beautiful you were. How precious you looked. Everything that he couldn't sign to you with your eyes closed and one of his hands down your pants, his fingers buried and thrusting inside of you.

***

You whimpered as he pushed you further and further, your hips jerking as Vincent listened to every word you told him. He moved his fingers just so, seeming to even listen just to the way your voice would change. You'd been touched before, either by yourself or by your ex, but you couldn't remember a time you'd been listened to so eagerly before. Had someone that could reach the spots inside you that you couldn't.

"Right there, Vincent. Ah- Just like that." He rubbed that spot over and over until your hips were jerking. Whether to get closer or farther away you didn't know. But Vincent pulled back almost completely. You could feel his weight shift, and then you felt his other hand holding you down by pressing his large hand flat against your stomach. So you couldn't move and so you were forced to feel . "Oh, Vincent ." Your voice went up an octave. You tried to fist the sheets of the bed, but all you did was scrape your nails against the wax. You tried to move your hips, but you couldn't. You tried to shift away from the intensity of the pleasure, of how he'd shifted from using the heel of his palm and instead circled your clit with his thumb, but he was relentless. Persistent with his pleasure.

You felt close to tears, a stream of cries and praise leaving your lips before you could feel your thighs start to shake. Your abdomen start to tense. You reached to hold onto his forearm, your nails biting into his skin as the other gripped your own hair. You came around his fingers, a cry of his name leaving your lips as you arched your head back. He didn't stop, even if his actions slowed. You shivered and trembled through the aftershocks, twitching before you finally begged him,

"Open." And you knew that you hadn't been mistaken. It was rare that you heard his voice. You were almost sure that it had been the first time. You knew he didn't speak simply because it pained him to do so, and you knew that he wouldn't do it unless he was absolutely sure. So, slowly, you peeled open your eyes and looked into the half-scarred face of your lover. Your hand glided over the smooth, untouched side of his face. One that was identical to Bo's. You didn't dare touch the scar tissue, as you didn't want to potentially hurt him. But, still, your eyes glided over it as if there wasn't a blemish there. Softly, you whispered,

"Okay, okay, okay, enough. Fuck- Vincent, I can't-" And he finally drew his hand away. You panted and relaxed, slumping against the solid block of wax and waiting until Vincent told you he was ready for you to look. Instead, you felt the plushness of his lips press against yours. It was soft and short, before he was kissing you again. And again, and again. You giggled, running your fingers through the strands of his hair and kissing him back each time. He kissed your cheek and your forehead, before he pressed soft kisses to the back of your eyelids. They nearly fluttered open, but then Vincent did it again. You made a face, questioning if you thought he was telling you to do what you thought he was. Then, he did it again and you heard the raspy whisper of the word,

"Hello, handsome." And you finally got to watch him blush properly.

#house of wax #house of wax (2005)#house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair

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chibiwritesstuff · 4 years

Note

Could you do a headcanon for how the dorm leaders and their S/O would react if their kid(s) from the future magically appeared on campus?

I might have gone overboard with this... but at the same time, I feel like I rushed this. I’m so occupied by work that I have to slowly work on this from midnight to six am before heading to bed then go to work around 10 am for two weeks now... I hope it turned out the way you like it. Yes, the ones with unique magic is inspired with FGO’s Noble Phantasms... I’m still stuck in that hellhole of a gacha game. I think you can tell who my faves are by the length I’ve written for them XD

Now, let’s enter this twisted wonderland~

“Queen’s Rose Maze!” All five of the Heartslabyul main guys heard. “Traverse in the twisting maze of the Queen of Roses!”

All of them rushed towards the location of the voice only to see a tiny Riddle with (h/c) hair instead.

“What did I do?!” Heartslabyul A-kun whimpered as he seemed to be stuck in a rose maze.

“As stated by the Queen of Hearts’ Rule #186: Never eat hamburg steak on Tuesdays. You just broke a rule and you must be punished.” The kid scolded. “To think this is what my esteemed father deals with everyday…”

“By father, I assume that would be me?”

Surprisingly, Riddle seems to take this information in stride. The kid will turn around and his suspicions were confirmed.

The kid will run and hug him asking if he’s doing a good job. He introduces himself and everything Riddle asked, (s/n) answered perfectly.

Well, until you showed up that is.

“Mother!” He’ll call out in joy as he bounced towards you.

And there goes Riddle’s composure.

Oh great seven, you two have children?! Is his first thought followed by, We will get married, have children, and be together forever!

While initial surprise caught you off guard, you slowly accepted the fact that you and Riddle are now interacting with your future child.

When he can finally go back to his time his final words made both of you blush.

“Farewell, mother and father!” He’ll wave happily as he disappears. “I have to watch over the twins you two just have after all!”

Wanna try betting who’s redder? (It’s Riddle)

Someone – more like two – that is not him or you is on his bed.

Who dares occupy my bed?!

The little girl stirred from her sleep and upon making eye contact with you two she’ll screech in joy.

“(s/n)! Wake up! Mom and Dad are here!”

Both of you flinched both from the high pitch voice and the statement she just made.

The young boy will wake up as well and greets you two in a much calmer way.

They’ll tell you that someone’s unique magic transported a bunch of kids to the past and now they’re here.

Slowly but surely, you both can tell that (d/n) is a daddy’s girl and (s/n) is a mommy’s boy.

You all decided to take a siesta together, with the children in between.

When you both stirred in your sleep, the kids are gone. There’s a note stuck on Leona’s chest saying that they have to return to their time and they enjoy the siesta as always.

“Can’t wait to have you two soon.” Leona will mutter as he pulled you to him before going back to sleep.

A girl is crying in the lounge and it's disturbing the customers causing a bunch of complaints, forcing the twins to abandon current tasks to find the girl.

As soon as the girl spotted the twins, she grabs on them. “Uncle Jade, where’s daddy?”

Oh, Jade and Floyd are gonna have a field day with this. They kept questioning the poor girl about everything about her time to the point of scaring her.

“Aw, what a cute girl.” You’ll end up cooing.

“Mommy!” Tears are forming in her eyes as she hugs your legs tightly. “Mommy, I’m scared.”

“(y/n), I wasn’t aware you have a child…” You hear Azul trail off at the news.

He’s crestfallen on the fact that you have a child already. He will start doubting himself, thinking, of course, your relationship wouldn’t last, he’s not good enough, that he didn’t realize the kid is running towards him.

“Daddy! Uncle Jade and Uncle Floyd are scaring me again!”

“D-Daddy?!” He’s so taken aback he fell on his bum.

Jade and Floyd are laughing at his reaction while you just stared back and forth towards the child and Azul.

Ironically this is the time one of Azul’s customers decided to eat and run. Just as he asked the twins to deal with it the kid waved her magical pen.

“Everlasting Summer Spree!” And the guy is now over buying almost everything in the lounge. “Splurge in the joys of summer and shop to the fullest!”

Azul is so proud and started babying her with the very money she earned from one customer alone.

When it's time for her to leave he’s crying… which made her cry as well.

Looks like I’m going to be stuck with crybabies… is the only thing you thought of as you smile.

“Papa!” Echoed in the middle of the party that Kalim assembled.

When a young boy tackled him, Jamil was ready to grab the said kid until he noticed their features, and boy did he paled up upon the sudden realization.

“Oya, do I remind you of your papa?” Kalim smiled and hugged the kid. “That’s flattering, kiddo!”

“Uh, Kalim you might want to take a real good look on that kid,” Jamil said as he readied to call you on his phone.

When you arrived at the Scarabia dorm, you see Kalim pampering a young boy that has your eyes and complexion. A table full of food, toys, and jewelry scattered around to make the kid happy.

“Mama!” The boy called out to you while your brain is trying to process everything.

“Isn't (s/n) so cute! He’s really smart too!” Your lover kept on praising the kid as he played with Jamil, who looks like he wants to disappear.

Your mom mode instincts kicked in and scolded the two for overdoing things.

They kept saying sorry as Jamil finally got out of the predicament.

When the kid can finally return to their original timeline, he’ll give one last hug to the entire Scarabia dorm’s students before leaving.

“I’m so excited!” Kalim will tell you with a blinding smile. “Arent you excited as well?”

Vil was looking for Rook when he saw the said man playing with a little blonde girl. The archer noticed his presence so he beckoned the girl to come with him.

“Roi de Poison looks like your beauty runs in the family.”

The little girl did a curtsy as she greeted him. “Greetings, father. I’m (d/n), your daughter from the future.”

He’s amused, seeing as the girl acts gracefully by greeting alone. After doing his usual 5-second head to toe judgment, he nods and beckons her to follow to Pomefiore for a spa day.

No surprise but as they walk the premises of the campus, lots of stares and gossip started spreading.

Before either Vil or Rook can do anything, she once again spoke. “Father, may I ask for permission to use my unique magic?”

This piqued his interest, “Very well, show me what you got.”

“Smile of the Princess~” With an elegant smile flashed to everyone, “Hark, for the fairest’s daughter has graced you her smile~”

You just happened to walk by when you saw the commotion. Color yourself surprised when you saw a girl with Vil’s beauty and grace but with your eyes and preference of hairstyle cast her magic.

You might not have magic but you are quite good at noticing the quirks of everyone’s unique magic. A smile crept on your lips as you realized what her magic really does and who she might be.

They all got enamored with her and waited for her command. “Do get lost and focus on your duties, you pitiful potatoes.”

“As you wish, princess.” Everybody affected by her magic responded and went on their merry way.

“Oh my, so your magic is similar to Monsieur Multi.” Rook happily commented after the display.

“That’s incorrect.” (y/n) responded, already figuring out the true nature of her magic. “Smile of the Princess merely makes her target pay their fullest attention to her. It's her charisma that made them follow her orders.”

“So you noticed as well,” Vil confirmed which you happily nodded.

“Greetings, mother.” She curtsied and introduced herself once more. “We’re currently heading to father’s dormitory to treat our skin. Would you like to join us?”

Ah, so your hunch was right…

“She is going whether she likes it or not,” Vil answered for you as he smirked at your flushed face. “We do need a family bonding after all, don’t we, my dear sweet potato?”

“Yeah… what he said.” You sweatdropped as you unwillingly got dragged to their spa day. “Are we seriously ignoring the fact that she just said we’re her parents?”

“Are you opposed to having children with me?” He raised an eyebrow before facing your kid. “How many siblings do you have?”

“My older brother remains in my timeline with his acting job, father.”

You all end up doing the said spa day and enjoyed getting to know your daughter. You can't help but sigh in relief when she told you that she choose following Vil’s lifestyle of her own will rather than being forced to.

When she has to leave, rather than curtsying, she went and hug both of you instead.

“I know father’s at work and barely spend time with you but please don’t leave him…” She looks away with a sad smile. “He doesn’t mean to make you lonely.”

Against Vil’s protests, you grabbed his hand and raised it with a huge smile. “I promise I won’t let him go until he tells me to.”

Cue to Vil blushing, Rook laughing, and (d/n) smiling as she waves goodbye.

“You better keep that promise, you stupid sweet potato…” Vil mutters under his breath with a small smile.

The one rare time he leaves his room is when he visits you or he’s out to get his pre-orders. Today’s reason is visiting you.

He hears giggling from his brother and what sounds to be another child. He’s so curious if Ortho made a new friend that he didn’t even process the fact that there’s another person in your dorm.

“Big brother! Your son is here!” Ortho happily announced as he pointed at the giggling boy on your lap.

“AAAHHHH!!!!” Idia.exe has crashed. Please restart your system to continue.

“Ahaha, dad is still so jumpy as always.” (s/n) stood up and walked towards him. “Hi, dad! I’m (s/n), your son from the future.”

He’s the main suspect from all these time-traveling shenanigans. Creating a time machine wanting to meet you two which led to all the children wanting to go as well.

He explains the mechanics of the time machine along with its timer-based setting to return them to their timeline with no fail.

Idia is now just so invested in how this creation works that he sat down on the couch with his holographic computer typing notes and giving his ideas to the kid.

You’re just happy that Idia is finally interacting with someone else even if it's his son.

Truth be told when he randomly showed up in your dorm, (s/n) geeked out so much on how he unlocked the secret episode on his life story. He immediately bombarding you with questions about your current relationship with Idia.

It was overwhelming… thank god for Ortho’s random visits that you managed to calm the kid down.

In the end you four played video games – constantly yelling hacks when someone else wins – and had a great time.

When the timer started beeping, he gave you three a hug. “I love you guys! Please don’t forget the parent-teacher meeting tomorrow, Dad.”

“I believe that something you should say to future us…” You sweatdropped as Idia held back a nervous laugh.

“I-I’ll try.”

Le gasp from all three of you.

When (s/n) disappeared, Ortho starts chattering on how he can’t wait to be an uncle. Leaving so he can make lots of detailed plans for the future hangouts he’ll have with your son.

“(y/n),” He caught your attention as his face and hair slowly turns to fiery red. “I may be the biggest introvert in the world but I promise I’ll do anything that I can to make you happy.”

“Huh, I guess this is how Hades wooed Persephone to marry him…” You smirked as he covered his face to muffle his screaming. “Should we start planning for our wedding now?”

You two were having a peaceful picnic by the school grounds when a young boy appeared on top of the tree. He lost his balance though and leave it to Malleus’ fast reflexes to catch the boy with no sweat.

“Thank you, father.” The boy with a striking resemblance of your lover spoke as he regained his footing. “This isn’t how I planned to meet you two…”

“Father?” You two both asked.

“Okay, I’m aware that you are god knows how old but I wasn’t aware you have a child?” You can't help but look back and forth between the two boys.

“Neither do I.” He calmly answers, confusion evident on his face. “I haven’t bed anyone in my whole life.”

“My apologies! I’m (s/n) Draconia, your fifth son from the future.”

Cue to you doing a spit-take. “Fifth?!”

Malleus is just beaming in joy from this news, he does love a big family. Oh, he can't wait for the future to come, get married to you and have children… five children!

“There’s eight of us, actually…” He whispered but you both heard it anyways.

Spit-take part two with a bonus of your face being redder than any tomato in existence and Malleus just vibrating in happiness. “EIGHT?!”

He goes on and telling their names and current accomplishments, all to how the youngest sister is about to be born in a few months.

“So, I guess that actually makes it nine.” (s/n) corrects himself one last time.

You passed out while mumbling “Nine… nine kids…”

As much as Malleus wants to keep talking, he chose to care for you first, chuckling at how you passed out from said information.

He brings you and his kid to his room to make sure you have a better mattress to lay on. The two Draconia’s will keep talking about how the future of the family works.

Oh, imagine the horror on his face when tend to always be at doors death every delivery time. Now he knows that it's quite common for humans to die when giving birth. He second-guesses the idea of having so many children if your life is at stake.

(s/n) have to remind him that they all live, so everything's fine.

After that reassurance, you stirred awake and saw the kid once more. He now wants to snuggle with you on the bed, which Malleus followed suit.

“Mother, please sing me that lullaby again.” He yawns as the older fae encases you two in a hug. “We all love your song…”

You can’t help but smile seeing how adorable your son is being that you hummed the first lullaby your mother has sung to you in your younger days.

You two noticed he’s fading, assuming that he is going back to his timeline once again.

You both placed a kiss on his forehead, saying “We love you, (s/n).”

Malleus chuckles and pulls you close as he peppers your head with kisses. He’s so excited for the future that he’ll share with you and you can't help but feel the same way.

“So… who’s going back to clean up the mess we left at the school grounds?”

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theodora3022 · 3 years

Text

Bloody Rose(Sebastian Michaelis x Vampire F!reader)

Request: Sabastian with a female vampire s/o? Can be yandere or not! You choose.

Notes: I made this in headcanons form and I’m typing on mobile during witching hours, so bear with me dear anon-

I decided to go with fluff since I am in a soft mood today~~

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of blood

To others, you were a tailor owning a small haute couture shop, a spinster who make her living by making outfits. But they won’t know you been doing this since the Georgian times.

You move from county to county, around England every decade or so, to avoid suspension. Luckily no vampire hunters has ever been on your tail: you consider yourself as a good subject to the crown despite being a blood drinker. You only consume animal blood, which made you a harmless vegetarian. Being a forever maiden is not unpleasant by any means, apart from being banished from sunlight. You miss being able to run around in the sun freely. When you do go out during a sunny day you cover yourself in fabric as much as possible, resulting you with overly pale skin.

Contrary to common belief, you slept until the afternoon, opening up the store even during the day. You had forced yourself to change your biological routine to fit in the human society. Although your bed resembles a traditional coffin in shape, it is never an actual one. The mirrors in your shop were not backed by silver, so you can still see your reflections.

You happened to be at late Victorian London when a mysterious murderer decides to drain the blood of thier victims like a vampire would, how unfortunate.

You were one of the suspects, so Sabastian and his lord were obligated to pay you a visit. Although they did not put you as priority to begin with: you never done things like this.

You welcomed them to your store with a polite smile and warm greetings, as any good saleswoman would.

Ever since transforming, you had not drank a drop of human blood. However, you can still smell the scent of their blood even through skin. It feels like...a natural perfume to you, to describe it at best. Some are sweeter then others, like tempting sweet delights, and you had to make sure you are well fed before going near them.

That little lord’s blood is sweet and tempting. The butler, however, his blood just...is that even blood? You thought to yourself. It reminds you of the mighnight, danger lurking underneath the peaceful surface.This man is no ordinary human, you can sense that much. You had never delt with a demon before, therefor your knowledge is rather limited, only from books and theaters.

Vampires are demons are cut from the same cloth, in a way right? Both can only venture in the shadows for eternity, trying to get by without being slain by those self righteous dastards. Sebastian had met some of your kind over the centuries, albiet none of them are as lovely as you are. You still act like a young human woman, if not for your overly pale skin you would be considered as normal. He wonders what made you this way, as all vampires, save a selected few, are humans before something happened. You seem like a kind lady, not one of those blood-hungry lowlifes he had seen before.

You showed Ciel your collection, took his measurements when he demanded, never flinching away from the young lord’s cold attitude. When you went into the inner chamber to retrive more material choice, Ciel decided you are most likely not the murderer they are looking for, and Sebastian agrees. There is not a single scent of human blood on you or anywhere in sight, as demons can smell such things even one uses the finest soap to cover the traces. Even though you are a vampire, if you are harmless to others Ciel is not intersted in fighting you(he has a demon for butler, so?).

“But she is a fine tailor, right milord? Maybe you can just make this a normal shopping trip.” What an unsual person you are, thought Sebastian. He might just take a little more time to observe you. It has been forever since he met another immortal being that does not irritates him.

“Very well. This would not be a complete waste of time then. I need a new suit for the social season anyway.” The young man tsked.

When they asks you to deliver the order yourself, you were hesitant about going outside. Your ususal customers send their servents to collect their orders, as you insisted so. You know what sunburns can do to you, but they offered you a down payment you cannot refuse. It is a risk you are willing to take. Even vampires needs gold to survive, if you do not wish to massacre humans for food.

The moment you stepped onto the estate, covered in a long hooded cloak and gloves, you can sense great calamity has occured in this location rather recently. But that is none of your concerns, the customer’s private life is nothing to pry about.

The servents...they are an odd flock, to say the least. They might seem clumsy or even impotent, but you know that butler knows better then to hire three imbeciles.

After you made your delivery, Sebastian insists on you staying for the afternoon tea. You wanted to decline, since normal food has been tasting like wet paper ever since that awful day, but you find it hard to say keep saying no to such a comely man. He is the most goregous male you ever seen, and you say that as an immortal. The term “devilishly handsome” is like a tailor made suit for him.

To your surprise, you can faintly taste the refreshement’s fruity flavours. When you were human yourself you have always loved food, missing it much when all you can taste is blood. So you helped yourself to quite a few tarts and biscuits, not knowing the demon had added special ingredients just for your vampire taste buds. You were so focused on your plate that you missed Sebastian’s calculating smile.

That esclated rather quickly, soon you found yourself promising to tailor more clothes for Earl Phantomhive, therefore being on their premise more.

Sebastian would always treat you to a plate of mouth-watering refreshments before you depart. Soon you find yourself answering his somewhat intrusive questions, as it is only fair to give him some compensation for those delicious treats.

The questions are surfaces ones at first. What is your favorite color or your preferred weather. Then to more personal territory, such as the reason behind your spinsterhood or what in a man that attracts you the most. You would blush madly, a feeling you have not felt in years fills your empty soul, and tell him your little answers.

How endearing. Compare to werewolves who behaves like canines, vampire leans closer to the feline side. You reminds Sebastian greatly of the black cat he encountered last spring. Your nonchalant and cheerful attitude are identical to the lovely creature. Oh and how he loves petting her soft fur. He wonders how your hair would feel under his hands. He initially might just be curious of how an odd vampire you are, but now the demon had found you to be quite an entertaining presence.

It has been so long since you had any friends, so you opened up to him quickly, disregarding the risks. You even revealed your identity to the man in black after he swears on his heart to not tell a soul.

“My entire family was slaughtered by venegeful vampires. My father used to work as a vampire hunter for the mad King, therefore he made enemies of many. Ironically I survived, only to found out I turned into this. A creature who can only hide in the shadows forever. I swore I would never be like those blood suckers, I would never kill someone just to saitate my blood lust. Thank you Sabastian, for all those delicious cakes. They made me feel human agian once more. Also thank you for listening to my rambles, it has been so many years I confided in someone.” So you where a noble lady once. That is where your fine but antiquated manners originates from.

What a calamity you had suffered, yet you remain strong and lighthearted nonetheless. Moving from place to place, afraid to be burnt for your youthful appearance.You deserve to be cherished as the treasure you cleary are. No more hiding and running, not if he can help it.

You gladly accepted Lord Phantomhive’s offer to serve as the household’s tailor, the pay is generous and working for one person greatly reduce the risk of being discovered. Plus you get to spend more time with your new friend Sebastian! It is an offer you cannot turn down.

Sebastain is in a contract right now, but Ciel could only live so long. Prior to meeting you, he never thought about the future after his contract is completed. He imagined the two of you traveling across the European contient as friends, or something more, for the rest of your infinate lives. He has always been alone whenever he was not in a contract with humans, but the idea of being with someone forever is rather appealling to the demon.

Even though he does not let his emotions discract him from his duties, you can still feel how he smiles whenever you enter the room. You would curl up your lips jovially in return, sometimes even teases him for having a charming smile.

For now, Sebastian would be your good friend, always lend an ear to you for anything, or offer his shoudler should you need it, as long it does not get in the way of his duties to his liege. But who knows what would happen after the contract is completed? The world is yours to explore, with infinate amount of time, with him by your side.

#black butler #black butler fluff #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michealis x reader #black butler imagines

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amethystpath-writes · 3 years

Note

hi! I just saw your username is similar to mine haha. I saw that your asks are open and was wondering if you would be willing to write a protective villain caring for a broken hero? if not that's totally okay! from your fellow amethyst buddy lol

Oh hey! Another amethyst writer! I am most definitely willing to write that :D

The door opened with less ease than Villain would have liked. The downstairs wasn't as well maintained as the main floor- mostly because he'd never managed to capture Hero so there was no reason to make sure it was taken well care of.

Villain squinted as he stepped in and shut the door. Going from light to dark wasn't pleasant and he couldn't see for a moment. As his vision cleared, though, he noticed Hero wasn't in front of the door like he expected. He glanced around in the dark. How does anyone see down here?

After a minute or two, he heard a wheezy cough. Had Hero been running? Why was she wheezing?

"My men told me you finally spoke," Villain said, walking to where he heard the captive hero.

A deep breath. Another. Both wheezes. Villain squinted. "You'll speak to them and not me? A bit rude, I think."

He reached an arm out, knowing he was at least in front of Hero. His plan, originally, was to charm her. Give her a princely kiss on the hand. However, it didn't work out this way.

"No, don't! Please. Please, don't. I'll talk. I'll talk; I'm talking."

Villain's eyes went wide more quickly than they had at anything else before. He was generally easy to startle, but nothing was so bad as this. "What are you- Hero, are you crying?" She is. She's crying. "Hey, I wasn't going to- You didn't actually think I was going to hurt you, did you?"

Her only response was further sobs, and tiny, 'I'm sorry's.

"What is this? Is your partner hurting you at home?" He squinted at her again, never reaching a hand out again. "You never acted this way during our fights. I don't understand what's happening."

Time passed and Hero only continued to apologizing, sometimes saying stuff like, "Not again," or, "It's okay. I'm okay." The latter she would repeat over and over again like she was trying to convince herself of the words.

"Can I help you stand? Maybe some fresh air will help, yeah?"

Hero tilted her head down, but held her hands out to Villain. He could only barely see them now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark of the room. He helped her to her feet before quickly realizing she'd been sitting too long to stand on her own, much less walk. Villain pulled one of her arms around his shoulder in order to assist in getting her out.

It took Villain opening the door and readjusting to the light to realize why Hero had been so...so terrified when he initially held a hand out.

Her clothing was torn, only one shoulder of her shirt holding the rest of the cloth on her body. Her pants were now mock shorts- looked like someone hacked at them with a butter knife or something with a dull edge.

As for Hero's skin...Villain felt sick. He nearly grabbed one of his men and told them to hold Hero while he went to find his second in command, but right now? He didn't trust anyone to hold Hero. Anyone could have done this to her. Any of them could have walked in that room and tortured Hero into telling her secrets. That wasn't how this was supposed to be done. Villain wouldn't stand for the violence, but what could he do while holding Hero right now?

"Hero?" He made sure his voice was soft, not roaring and ragged like how Hero's torturer- or torturers- most likely sounded.

A hum barely sounded in her throat.

Villain took this as a cue to continue talking. "I want you to tell me who did this to you. You don't have to; I won't force you, but it shouldn't happen again, and I can't put a stop to it unless you do tell me who it is."

Her head fell on his arm as they continued walking. "M' hurt-ss."

"What's that?"

"Legs." Villain heard her swallow. "They hurt. Can't- can't keep walk-" She grunted. "-walking."

Villain stopped, but then didn't know what to do. "Should I- Do you- um- want me to carry you, then?" He felt her head nod a bit against his arm. "Okay." He nodded. "Okay, uh- I guess... I'm going to- er- put an arm behind your shoulders and beneath your knees, alright?" She groaned, and he proceeded.

***

What seemed like an hour later, Villain walked into his second in command's office. He'd left Hero in his own room, somewhere he hoped no one would find her. Not that they'd necessarily take her, but...well, Villain was a little frightened. He had no idea his men would ever do such terrible things to Hero- or anyone for that matter.

"Did you know our guys are torturing Hero down there!" His voice was a shout, but he wasn't angry, just shocked.

Second In Commamd (SOC) grunted. "I heard her screams the other day, but didn't think much of it."

Villain was appalled, enough so that his lip curled. "That was a joke, right?"

Looking up, SOC rose a brow. "No?" He pushed himself out of his chair, rounding to the front of the desk where he promptly sat. "What? You have a problem with it? It's Hero that we're talking about. Y'know? Your nemesis?"

Villain huffed and shook his head. "Opponent," he corrected sharply. "'Nemesis' implies I would do anything to be rid of her. Including shoving knives under her skin and- and beating and whipping her like she's some rabid beast!"

"Shouldn't you be?"

"Shouldn't I be willing to torture her?"

SOC nodded.

"No. No, that's not who we are." Villain turned toward the door, nearly spewing out a command as he reached for the handle, but SOC spoke.

"Speak for yourself."

Villain's hand slid to his side, but he didn't turn yet. He was afraid if he looked at his friend, he might lunge at him.

"That girl is capable of destroying us all because she has the public's eye. We destroy her, show them how damaged and broken she is, and we win. We win, Villain. No more fighting, no more sabotages on either end- We. Win."

Villain was now furious as he faced his friend- old friend at this point. "At what expense! This was never what we were about and you know it." He pointed an accusatory finger at SOC before clenching both hands into fists.

"Maybe you weren't." SOC stood from his desk, took two steps closer to Villain. "Did you ask anyone else how they felt about not getting seconds at meals because you wanted to feed your little speechless pet?"

"You've been torturing her because of your gluttony?" Villain's tone was acid and he spoke through his teeth.

"Better than giving her a free place to live meanwhile we get nowhere!"

"You're sick." Villain shook his head. "You're sick and I want you out of this building."

SOC smiled. The door opened behind Villain and in stepped one of the two's men. Before he could respond, Villain's arms were jerked behind his back and something clicked on both of his wrists. Cuffs.

"You wanna try to fire me again?" SOC asked, a wicked smile tugging at either corner of his lips.

Being dragged back, Villain didn't bother screaming his wrath at SOC. Instead, he yelled as loudly as he could, "Hero, if you hear me, run! Get out of here!"

All the while, SOC returned to his desk chair, muttering happily, "Now it looks like we have two examples to make of to the public."

#thanks for the ask amethyst buddy!#asks and answers #request #hero x villain #hero x villain story #good villain #enemy to caretaker #hero whumpee #torture #ptsd #whump #whumpee #whumper #long post #original work

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kirispiracy · 4 years

Text

It’s a Love-Hate Thing

characters: frat boy!hawks x f!reader, brief mentions of mirko and members of the LOV

genre: smut. nsfw. 18+

notes/warnings: frat!au, college!au, hate-sex, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol, mentions of political science (deffo the scariest thing in here), swearing uuuuh lmk if i forgot anything

words: 3.6k

If someone were to ask you how you ended up here, you would have bitterly pointed towards your now drunk roommate, Rumi. She had spent two hours begging you to accompany her to Lambda Omega Vi’s biggest party of the year: their post-rush celebration. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had an avid hatred for greek life, the LOV’s ‘brothers’ were renoundedly the douchiest boys on campus.

Yet, Rumi had pleaded with you, and bargained with dish duty. If you went, she would do all of the dishes for a month. She knew as soon as your eyes narrowed and head titled that she had you. After some fluttered lashes and a sweet pout, it was a done deal. And, damn, were you pissed.

You stood in the corner of a musty, bare living room. There was something bassy and synthetic pumping through a large speaker, and sweaty bodies mingled in the middle of the room. From the sidelines, you played a little game you had made up after your first quarter on campus.

That one is Shiggy; his lips were always chapped, and skin always parched, yet there was always a gorgeous girl attached to his arm. Jin was running the game of beer pong; people around school called him Twice, but the stories always varied as to how that name originated (you heard it was ‘cuz he gave the same girl an STD twice). As your eyes flitted around the room, your face contorted in displeasure. The LOV really was the bottom of the barrel.

That’s when you saw him. The bane of your fucking existence. Keigo fuckin’ Takami. What a prick. You had the displeasure of meeting Keigo in your second quarter Intro to Political Thought class. It was a large lecture, and you sat in the back, making sure to keep at least a few seats between you and the nearest person. You were only taking this class as a GE, and had no interest in making friends with the poli sci majors. Of course, when Keigo came in, he plopped down in the seat right next to yours. His knee bumped yours and he had a sleazy smirk on his face.

He did that every lecture-bumped into you, lazily grinning and never saying a word unless it looked like you were about to get up and move. Then he would need a pencil, despite the one sitting on top of his notebook, or he’d ask for a piece of gum, or ask you to catch him up on the reading he didn’t do. Thus, you were trapped with him for a painful ten weeks. As the quarter progressed, so did his shameless fuckboy behavior. No matter how scathingly you shut him down, he was on you like a fungus.

When you had found out he was part of the LOV, it made everything click. Some girl had come up to him during one of your last lectures, batting her eyelashes, and when you heard her call him Hawks oh so sweetly, you didn’t let him live it down. Every time you saw him it was, hey Hawky, you absolute dumbass. He simply played along, calling you princess and his little dove with a dazzling smile each time. And fuck if it didn’t make you want to bash your head against a wall.

Thus, this is what your relationship became; any chance meetings across campus after that first class together consisted of his shameless flirting and your anti-fraternity war, which always inevitably turned into more bickering. Others would snicker when they witnessed the two of you, resulting in your heads whipping around to face whoever it was, sure to make a point of letting them know just how much you couldn’t stand each other.

So here you were, glaring at him from across his living room, while his arm was thrown around some wasted sorority girl. You nursed your cup of spiked punch, wincing at the cheap alcohol with every sip you took . Then, Keigo caught your gaze. Your eyes locked with his for far too long, but you weren’t going to back down first. Eyes narrowed, you worked your hardest to force all of your anger and hatred into your stare. But when he winked, you practically spit up your punch. You scoffed and flipped him off, turning away after drinking in his initial expression of shock.

Working your way into the kitchen, you smiled behind your cup. Damn, that felt good. Maybe it was petty, but fuck that guy. As you reached the chip bowl, you felt a hand curl around your wrist. You jumped in surprise, whipping around to see Rumi giggling and looking up at you.

“Hey (Y/N)! Hi. Ok, so I know I begged you to come with me, and I know you’re my ride. But um,” she glanced behind her and as your eyes followed her gaze, you understood what she was getting at. “I think I’m gonna uh, catch a ride with Dabi right now.” She was biting her lip, “I’ll still do the dishes for a month, I swear. And the good news is you can totally leave now!”

You sighed and nodded, muttering a just be safe and text me, then she was running off, jumping into who you assumed was Dabi’s arms. After watching them disappear, you went to dump the rest of the punch down the kitchen sink. No point in staying here any longer. Thankfully you had barely had anything to drink, so all that was left to do was grab your purse and get the hell out of here.

Up the stairs, second door on the left. That’s where your stuff should have been. Every time you had been to one of these parties, the hosting fraternity usually offered up a safe room for everyone to keep their belongings. This time it was someone’s bedroom, and when you walked in only to see your purse wasn’t where you had left it, panic began to rise in your throat. There was no way someone had taken it, right? Then, the door behind you shuts, the lock clicking.

“Looking for this, doll?”

Oh absolutely not. Keigo stood in front of the door, your purse dangling from his fingers, that same unbearable smirk on his face. You didn’t respond, instead crossing your arms and stalking over to where he stood. “You know, I didn’t really appreciate your little stunt earlier, (Y/N). I thought we were buds!” He was looking down at you, mock hurt across his face. The fact that he remembered your name made your pulse jump just the slightest.

“What the fuck do you want, Hawks?” You spat out the nickname, taking a step back from him so you could look him level in the eyes. He put your purse behind him and took a step closer.

“Aw, c’mon dove. You know I only like it when you use that special little nickname lovingly.” Keigo’s hand was on the back of his neck, and the display of bullshit modesty made you roll your eyes. In the back of your mind you were thinking how adorable he looked, but you shook those thoughts from your head.

“Keigo, I’m trying to go home, and I don’t understand what the fuck you think you’re doing in here, or what little game you think you’re playing, but you better get out of my way.” You were desperate to sound in control of the situation, but your voice had softened half way through. Of course he noticed, and he took another step towards you.

“I just wanted to see why you thought it would be cute to do me dirty like you did down there, dove. What could I have done to deserve being embarrassed like that in front of my guests, hm?” He imitated you, crossing his arms. His chest was puffed out a little, but he was still smirking at you

You attempted to make a snatch for your bag, but he was too quick.

“Tsk tsk tsk. C’mon now darlin’. Thought you were smarter than that.” His arms had shot out and caught hold of your shoulders. His grip was like steel, and you were starting to feel a little uneasy. He was staring down at you like he was a predator, and you were already a dead thing he had dragged into his den. “I think I’m gonna need an apology for all the trouble you’ve been causing me tonight, dove.” He was shoving you down, and your knees hit the rug on the floor with a thud.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You were looking up at him, his hands still on your shoulders keeping you against the floor. You despised the way his surprise show of strength forced heat to rush between your legs. One of his hands left your shoulder to cup your cheek, a finger hooked under your chin.

“I’m just doing something I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you last year. Don’t you think you could behave? Don’t you think you owe me some sort of apology?” Keigo was frowning now, gazing down at you through his lashes. Fuck, he was gorgeous. “Now be a good girl.” His hand cupped your face, thumb leaving your chin to trace your lips, while the other left your shoulder and started working on his pants.

“W-what are you-” You were cut off by Keigo shoving his thumb into your mouth, and when you let out a little hum, he beamed down at you. He was unzipping his jeans, doing his best to pull them down with one hand. It was then you noticed his cock hardening under his pants.

“Look at you, already cooing for me. Thought you were gonna give me a harder time than this, dove. What a slut.” He was mocking you, you were sure of it. Yet at his words your cunt clenched. Still, he was wrong; you were gonna give him a hard time. You bit down on his thumb, and he hissed. “Fuck, you really are a brat. Better not try that when I have my cock in that smart mouth of yours.”

He pulled his cock free from his boxers, and your eyes widened just the tiniest bit. He wasn’t particularly thick, but long, with just a hint of a curve. His cock was was throbbing, and he grabbed himself with the hand that was previously pulling down his pants.

When he squeezed himself, he tensed up and shuddered. “Alright dove, open up.” He slapped the head of his cock against your cheek, leaving a trail of precum. He tapped it again against your bottom lip when you refused to take his orders, and something about the obscenity of Keigo smacking your face with his cock had your mouth dropping open involuntarily.

“Good girl, I knew you had it in you to be a good girl for me.” Both his hands wrapped into the hair at the back of your head, and without a second of hesitation, he’s fucking your face.

His hips are thrusting lazily, and his cock is hitting the back of your throat. Your gagging and whimpering only seems to egg him on, and he pushes your face forward until your nose is against his pubic bone. You’re trying to fight the heat rising in your belly, but it’s no use. Impossibly, this is the hottest thing anyone has ever done to you.

“Aw, darlin’, look at you crying over how I fuck that smart little mouth of yours. Does it hurt? Feels so good for me, dove. Love watching you cry too.” You hadn’t even realized the tears falling from your eyes, too busy focusing on your breathing. While you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of Keigo in a sexual way, you definitely had never pictured anything like this. Yet, you were enjoying yourself almost as much as he was.

You glanced up at him, eyes watery and lashes heavy. His face was flushed pink, his lips parted and breath panting. He was holding you against him as if you two were glued together, practically grinding against your face, cock pulsating against your tongue. The whines falling from his lips were music to your ears; he was gasping and sputtering, hips moving a little bit more erratically. The wetness in your panties was growing, along with your frustration. There was no way he was going to cum just like that and leave you here to pick up the mess; there was no way you were gonna let him use you.

When your teeth gently grazed his cock and you started shimmying away from him, Keigo groaned, head falling and hands tugging on your hair. You pulled off of his cock with a pop, stood up, wiped your face of any tears, and pulled your fingers through your hair.

“Sorry, birdy, but I am gonna give you a hard time. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” You squirm around him while he’s trying to catch his breath to grab your purse. It’s almost in your clutches when you’re slammed against the door.

“Think I’m gonna let you leave just like that, dove?” His voice is hot in your ear, and his hands are holding yours above your head, pinning them to the wood of the door. “Think that being a brat is gonna keep me from taking what I want?” He presses his still bare, still throbbing cock against your ass.

You stifle the groan begging to be let out, instead opting to egg him further. “I think you’re a real piece of shit, Keigo. Just another no good, douchey frat boy.”

“Hm, yeah I bet you do. Doesn’t mean you’re not gonna let this douchey frat boy abuse that slutty pussy of yours though, right? Gonna let me take advantage of you even if you fuckin’ hate me, isn’t that right, dove?” He smells like body wash and faintly of beer, and his skin is burning everywhere it’s touching yours. At his filthy words you keen, and rut your ass against his cock. “Mmm, of course you are. All bark ‘nd no bite, huh?”

He puts both of your wrists in one of his hands, and lets the other wander down. His fingers graze your waist, pushing up the material of your t-shirt. Then he’s moving up, hand cupping your breasts, fingers grazing against your nipple through the thin material of your bra. You whine and continue pushing yourself against him, wanting more.

“God, you talk too much Keigo. Too scared to actually fuck me? I doubt you’d be able to make me cum. Bet most the girls you’ve been with have faked it-” You know what you’re doing is dangerous, but you’re already here so why not. Keigo lets out something akin to growl, rumbling from deep in his chest. He’s pulling your shirt over your bra, then tugging the skimpy material down under your breasts.

“Alright, now you’ve really pissed me off brat. I’m gonna make it so the only words you remember are my name and please.” He pinches a nipple, twisting the sensitive nub between his fingers, and bites down on your neck. A moan is pitching from the back of your throat when he brings his hand up from your tits, clamping it down over your mouth. “You’re not gonna make a god damn peep unless I give you permission to, dove. Now just fuckin’ behave and keep your hands up high like that for me.”

He releases the grip he had on your wrists, and you can already feel the bruises that will be covering them tomorrow. Suddenly he’s working on your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping with minimal fumbling, and yanking your pants and panties down in one swift motion. Once they’re past your knees, and your ass is bare to him, he’s humming in approval, hand gliding over your cheeks, grabbing, kneading, pinching.

Finally, he’s running a finger across your slit, avoiding your clit, just barely fluttering past your hole, only touching your pussy enough to collect your wetness on his fingertips.

“Such a high and mighty attitude, but look at you princess. So wet, and I’ve barely touched you. All that just from sucking my cock?” You can feel yourself start to whine against his hand, wanting to shoot back some bitchy response, but when he hears your voice starting up in your throat, he shoves two fingers into your mouth. “Nuh uh, dove. Told you not a sound til’ I say so.”

Right as he says it, he pulls your hips back, giving himself the perfect angle to slam his cock into you. There was no warning, just his cock head suddenly kissing the entrance of your cunt and then the pleasurable stretch of being filled. His fingers shoved themselves backwards into your throat in time with his cock, as if to prevent you from even the littlest bit of noise at the intrusion.

The pace he sets is ruthless, and apart from his pants and whines, the only sound in the room is skin hitting skin as his hips fuck up against your ass. Your knees start to quake, and you paw at the door, relishing the cool feeling of the wood against your skin as compared to the heat of Keigo’s. Your pussy is fluttering; he’s hitting all these spots inside of you with minimal effort, and each time you clench around him he leans forward to press a kiss against your neck.

“Alright pretty girl, I’m gonna take my fingers outta that smart mouth now, and the only thing I wanna hear is how good I’m making you feel. Can tell by the way your sluttly little hole clenches around me that I’m makin’ you feel good, dove.”

As soon as his fingers leave your mouth your gasping and whimpering and making the prettiest noises Keigo’s ever heard. If only he could hear you like this more often, instead of you running your mouth at him. He let himself hold on to the musing; he would absolutely love to fuck the hatred you had for him right out of your body. Ain’t no time like the present.

He’s fucking you with more fervor now, in his mind he has a goal. Your head feels light as he eggs you on, practically begging you to use your words and tell him how good he’s making his little dove feel. God, every time he calls you that you’re practically seeing stars. Still, you don’t want to comply, to give him the satisfaction, but then his cock finds that weak spot inside of you and you’re babbling out praises.

“K-Keigo, feels so good. You’re making me feel so good. Fuck. God dammit.” You want to hate that one of your least favorite people is making you drip all over his cock, but it just feels perfect and you can’t even think anymore about all the nasty things you’ve said to each other beyond the context of now, of fucking like it’s the only thing you two should have ever been doing.

When his hand reaches down to play with your clit, you’re practically lost to the world. The only thing that matters is here and now and the feeling of it all. Your nails are scratching against the door, and you’re confident anyone walking by would get an unpleasant earful of two idiots going at it like there’s no tomorrow. You’re mumbling and whining and grinding your hips up to meet Keigo’s thrusts.

He doesn’t think he can hold himself back much longer, not with the way you're mewling and squirming and fluttering all over his cock, and he’s about ready to beg your orgasm forth. “C’mon dove, can’t have you on my cock all night. Need you to cum for me. Gotta feel you cum on my cock, darlin’.” His thrusts are sloppier, and his head is resting on your shoulder. He’s abusing your clit, rubbing harsh, tight circles, and his other hand is attached to a nipple, kneading and pinching.

“Fuckk-k, please (Y/N).” His voice is airy and needy, and hearing your name fall from his mouth like that brings your orgasm crashing down on you. Your muscles spasm as your pussy clenches down on Keigo’s cock, and he lets out a moan as he cums with you. He fucks both of you through your highs, burying his cum deep in your cunt.

Then he’s pulling out, his head still on your shoulder, when you hear the sound of a zipper being pulled up. You feel a chill as he pulls away from you, ass bare, dripping with cum.

“Well, that was fun, huh smart ass?” Keigo is looking in a small vanity mirror situated on the dresser in the bedroom, fixing his hair and adjusting his shirt. You stand up, legs wobbly, thighs sticky, head spinning. “Maybe we could do it again some time; I think I like you more when you’re fucked stupid and can’t talk shit at me.” He shoots you a wink and a smirk, and you stand there, in front of the door blinking at him.

“So uh, I have a party to get to downstairs, and it looks like you were gonna be heading out anyways. Might wanna um,” he gestures to your undressed state, then gently guides you out from in front of the door. “Well, catch ya later dumplin’.” With a grin and, was that a fucking shaka, Keigo is out the door. You hear his footsteps fading down the stairwell, and you begin to process what just happened as you fix your clothing and grab your bag.

That little son of a bitch.

#hawks x reader #mha x reader #keigo x reader #smut #mha smut #my fic #hawks smut #im nervous abt this one but aaaaaah here we gooo #ty sm clari for reading it for me first ilysm yr my number 1 kith kith #also this was inspired by a conversation w tempest n written for her hehehehehe i hope u like it bb

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squeeneyart · 3 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 25

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger

Nothing to do but talk.

Martin and Jon settle in for a movie night.

The documentary, if it could be called that, was absolute bunk.

Littered throughout were vague interviews and wild assumptions on the part of the very on-screen director, all tied together with a final push for people to purchase a very specific brand of smoke detector. And the low quality of the video couldn’t be blamed solely on Martin’s internet.

They watched the thing from start to finish, though, and by the end of its 70-minute runtime (“I should’ve guessed by how short it was,” Jon had grumbled partway through) their viewing had turned primarily to Jon taking the piss out of it. Academically, of course.

On Martin’s end the film itself was bad in an enjoyable way, and while he didn’t have the context for all of Jon’s complaints it was easy for him to listen. He’d even made some jokes that got Jon to snort.

He did have to sit uncomfortably straight to keep from leaning against each other. Jon had turned it a bit so they could both see, but when viewed from too hard an angle the picture looked even worse. So, Martin did his best to give Jon space and not let the effort distract him from the screen.

All of this being true, Martin was grateful for the horrible film. Nothing filled silence better than movies and television, so the nights following they settled into a routine. Someone would make dinner (with no further… outbursts) and then they would find something to watch. Afterwards they would say goodnight and Martin would escape upstairs to decompress with his little notebook.

Jon’s original idea had been to find something related to their goals. However, after another let down on night two involving a very old retrospective on the mid-century fishing industry (“Wrong century,” Martin had said about five minutes in), Jon dropped the idea, thus opening up a whole new world of cable television and old vhs tapes on night three.

“You bought yourself a laptop but never had a dvd player?” Jon yawned, getting comfortable on his side of the couch.

“We sort of… skipped it?” Martin dug through a box of tapes for something worth watching, sifting through sappier options and 80s action flicks alike. “Dunno how, but we never got one. The laptop ended up being the first thing I ever had to play dvds, but the telly is too old to be hooked up to it. S’fine, though. I like tapes.”

“And you never get bored of it? Flipping between tapes and whatever’s on at a given time?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I have a phone for other stuff, obviously. To be honest I don’t watch a lot to begin with, nothing new anyway.”

“Hmph. Same for me,” Jon conceded, sinking further into the couch. “Feels like there are other things I could be doing.”

“Except for now?”

A wry smile. “Special case.”

Martin’s stomach did a flip. He didn’t feel guilty, per se, but he wished he had something for Jon to work on to stave off the boredom. Everything had been so quiet with Peter gone and Simon’s waiting that no new leads had popped up. It wasn’t fair that Jon had to sit around doing nothing after wandering about in the sea for weeks. The least he could do was provide some entertainment.

“Hm. Right, how about this one?” Martin looked back and waved a vhs set. It was some old fantasy series with a group of children on the cover standing in a hallway. “Haven’t watched it since I was a kid, but I remember liking it.”

“Two tapes’ worth?” Jon glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s in episodes, right?”

“Yeah, though if you’d rather find something else…?”

Jon waved his hand. "No, I can’t spend the whole evening making up my mind. If we don’t like it, then we can find something else.”

With that settled Martin popped the tape in and took up his seat. On the other end, Jon sat with the blanket pulled to his chest. He wore a new set of pyjamas Martin had picked up at the shop along with a few other things to save Jon from having to wear the same clothes day and night.

The show was a simple series meant for children, easy enough to follow in plot that some side chatter didn’t interrupt things too much. Honestly, Martin was glad they weren’t paying a whole lot of attention. He hadn’t watched it in years and wasn’t looking to be embarrassed.

A few minutes in, the children from the cover were running up the stairs to explore a large house. “Safe to assume you don’t have siblings?” Jon asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s just me. You?”

He snorted. “Even if my grandmother wanted another child running around, I was enough to deal with.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “What, were you a terror?”

“I’d use the word ‘adventurous’, but she would’ve agreed with that description. If we’d been in that house,” Jon gestured toward the screen, “she would’ve been in trouble. Until it ate me or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes?”

Jon frowned. “That’s- No, I mean if it were real it would probably mean harm. Supernatural houses aren’t trustworthy entities outside of fiction. In fiction they’re mischievous at the least.”

“Can’t imagine that, a building that likes to mess with you,” Martin said, grimacing. He really didn’t remember much about this story. Maybe that was how it went? “I’m sure they’ll be fine. I wasn’t into spooky things back then.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m not letting my guard down,” Jon said. He watched as the children walked up a spiral staircase. “Would you have wanted siblings?”

Martin considered this. “I can’t imagine having them? But an older sibling would’ve been nice. Someone to know better and help me with things.”

“I think any other child would’ve found me irritating, older or younger. Best to keep to myself,” Jon said dryly. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, you can imagine the additional worry of raising a child who could explore the ocean like it was the woods. It’s not like she could follow me in.”

“I bet… She wasn’t like you, then?”

Turning back to the television, Jon said, “No. She was from my father’s side.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t tell if the question was wrong to ask, so looked back to the show. It was luck of the draw, then, whether someone was born with a selkie skin. Perhaps there was nothing to do with genetics in circumstances like this.

Back on the screen, one of the children had chosen to wander outside into the beginnings of a snowstorm with no thought to the cold. Outside the real world window it had begun to hail, and Martin realized how frigid it had become both outdoors and in.

“Well, at least this story is right for the season,” Martin said, standing up. “I’m gonna grab another blanket.”

With a start, Jon looked at him and held up the one he was under. “Do you want this one? I don’t-”

“N-no, that’s fine!” He walked briskly out of the room, feeling rude and stupid. All Jon had offered was for him to use the damned thing, not share it. And it wouldn’t have fit both of them even if he had meant it that way!

Opening the hall closet, he tried to calm down. He peered at the pile of folded sheets and blankets, lifting each layer to search for one he liked. There was a flannel one somewhere, deceptively warm for how thin it was-

Oh.

Tucked far down into the pile, far back enough so it was hidden if the one above wasn’t lifted, Martin saw something dappled and grey and out of place amongst the linen. Jon had left it to dry completely beforehand, so the surrounding fabric was unwrinkled. Considerate. And in a decent hiding place all things considered. It was a shame Martin had gone and ruined it.

He sighed, grabbing one of the blankets at the top that he’d initially passed on. Once he reached the doorway to the living room, he stopped and stared at Jon who was doing his best to seem unperturbed.

“So, I saw it,” he started, squeezing the blanket in his arms into his chest. “I use that closet a lot, if you want to put it somewhere else.”

Jon winced and stood. As Martin let him pass, he mumbled, “Right. I’ll just-”

And then Martin was left to sit back on the couch and wait, pausing the tape out of courtesy.

When the skin had disappeared from the shower that first morning he hadn’t considered anything but Jon hiding it, and there was an awful satisfaction in knowing he was right. He rubbed his arm and stared at the blanket in his lap, still neat and folded.

After a couple of minutes, Jon returned empty handed and resumed his seat. Pulling his blanket back up, he said, “It’s nothing… personal.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath and pressed play on the old remote, letting the child continue their new solo adventure. “I figured you hid it.”

“I appreciate that you told me.” His voice was stilted and unsure. “That you found it.”

“Sure, whatever helps.” Unfolding the blanket, he pulled it up to his shoulders and leaned on the arm rest. He could feel Jon fidgeting in place, turning the blanket so it faced the right way and making it tuck under him in the right places. Martin kept his eyes ahead.

Finally giving up on any further adjustments, Jon slouched into place. “It does help. I know my caution can come off as distrust, but genuinely I just… I need to keep it hidden. I need to know where it is and to be the only one who does. For now.”

“You… don’t need to justify anything.” Martin sighed and had to fight back a yawn. “It’s your coat.”

A grunt of frustration. “No, you don’t- It’s not a rational thing. I trusted you enough to tell you the truth, and yet I was barely into my first night here before I panicked and stowed it away.” He sat upright and let the blanket fall to his lap, quiet distress written across the lines of his forehead.

Grasping for words, Martin said, “You still haven’t known me that long. It’s not wrong to be careful.”

“That’s not the point,” Jon replied quietly, resting elbows on knees. “It hasn’t been all that long in the grand scheme of things, but a lot has happened. I consider you a friend. And yet I can’t stop feeling like everything is about to go wrong if I’m not careful.”

The hail continued to slam against the window, almost overpowering the sound of the television and the faun describing the witch’s plans. On the far side of the couch, Jon remained hunched over his own knees with his face bent in irritation.

A wave of shame broke against him, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Carefully, Martin scooted over just enough to reach out a hand. His trembling fingers hovered just an inch away, brushing against the fabric of Jon’s shirt before coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered, massaging around his eyes with his fingers. He reached his free hand up to tentatively cover Martin’s, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Do you… want to keep watching?”

Jon nodded, shaking himself out a little. Martin released the gentle grip on his shoulder, though he didn’t move away. They both settled into the back of the couch and watched.

The child had gone back inside with the shivers, but no one was to be found. Around the halls she wandered, calling her siblings’ names with indignation that slowly turned to concern and then to fear. Eventually she was running, and it wasn’t until she was on the upper floor that one of her brothers popped out to scare the living daylights out of her.

Deep down he remembered this part making him cry. Perhaps siblings weren’t worth it with how cruel children could be.

Martin coughed. “You explored the sea as a kid, then?”

Jumping slightly, Jon said, “O-only a couple of times. And not far from the land. And it’s not as fun when you can only grab one thing at a time, with your mouth. I sorely missed my pockets and picking up sticks.” As he spoke, he resumed the more casual tone from before with modest success.

“You thought checking out the sea with no real limits was too much of a hassle?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jon said, “It wasn’t entirely that. Eventually my grandmother warned me away from it. Told me about dangerous animals that absolutely weren’t native to the coast where we lived.”

“Great white sharks?”

“Surrounding our seaside village on every watery side, ready to eat hapless little seal boys who didn’t listen to their nans.”

Martin chuckled, relaxing further into his seat and listening to Jon go on about all the ways his grandmother had tried and failed to reign him in. He could see it, a younger, scrappier version of the man next to him stomping around the woods and climbing fences.

The instinct wasn’t all that relatable to someone like Martin who’d kept to the front porch on nice days, but it sounded like an adventure. Maybe it meant he was less likely to get eaten by an evil wardrobe out of the two of them. In his position he could only hope that was the case.

They called it for the night when, out of nowhere, a man suddenly appeared at half opacity screen and let out a screeching noise to close out an episode, making Jon laugh in a way that only could’ve been from exhaustion.

Martin lingered downstairs for a while after they shut the television off. It was Friday, after all. For many reasons they couldn’t go out to a pub, but without the need to get up early he could afford to stay up a little longer and listen to a sleepy Jon talk over the tapping on the window panes.

Tim: not next weekend, but the one after i think. finally time to call it on preparation and get down to business, if this is something we can be prepared for

Martin: encouraging

Tim: look its been rough over here, alright?

Martin: i know, sorry. itll be easier to talk once we’re all in one place

Tim: yeah

Tim: things are ok over there, then? youre sounding better

Martin: ?

Tim: it was starting to get scary if im honest, how quiet you were

Martin: oh, sorry. things are fine, just didnt have a lot to say

Tim: yeah, i get it. its hard to fill the space. dont be a stranger though. in a few weeks we’ll be there to get you out of this mess

Martin: looking forward to it

Sighing, Martin looked from the private chat to Jon, who was ignoring his breakfast to type away at the laptop. “Sounds like the others are making plans to get here.”

Jon looked up briefly. “Good. It will be… nice to see them.”

“And show them you’re not dead?”

Ignoring this, Jon said, “How is Tim doing?”

He glanced back at his phone. “Worried. About a lot of things, I think.”

“Thinking of how he’s going to break my disappearance to you, no doubt,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. He avoided Martin’s eyes. “That’ll be resolved soon enough.”

Martin poked at the eggs on his plate. “He… lost someone, didn’t he?”

It was only for a moment, but Jon froze in the middle of setting his mug down. He seemed to struggle with an answer.

“It’s fine if you can’t say, but he implied as much,” Martin said gently.

With a frown, Jon shut the laptop. “Sasha knows more than I do, but yes. His brother, a few years ago.”

“Oh. That’s… really sad.” He leaned back in his chair. “He seems like he’d be a good brother.”

“I’m sure he was. He certainly looks out for us.” Jon took a bite of his toast.

“As best as he can,” Martin added sheepishly.

“Once this is all finished he’s earned a vacation.”

Yes, they’d all given poor Tim their share of heart attacks. Martin had managed to several times in the last month. But at least when the time came Tim would see that both of them were alive and themselves and able to apologize for making his and Sasha’s lives just a bit harder than they needed to be.

Once it was all finished.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #selkie au

42 notes · View notes

verfound · 3 years

Text

WIPWed: Festering Edition: 6/2/21: WINTERS

@bloody-no-kissu @tenshiyuna & two (?) Nonnies...y'all thirsty for those snake dicks, huh? 😂

So as of right now, here's the Winters folder:

The first two (Winters Can be Lonely & Longest Night) are already done/posted. The Bedtime Story is the file that started the whole mess (and most of that file is in the original Winters), and the 'Bandit' part is...something I might go back to but needs serious consideration. (That note from the original Winters about the chapter that got Real Dark Real Fast? That's the Bandits part. It started going in a direction I wasn't comfortable with, and while I like the concept/idea there are parts of it that need major tweaking if it's ever going to get posted.)

"Summer Skin" is...ok sorry MA I'm throwing you under the bus. 😂 @mamanabeille's new pet gave her a heart attack the other day when he started shedding, and after we all knew he was ok & the drama was past my Plunny Brain went "...oooooh What If." Bc did you know when lizards shed their skins they flop over all dead-like and scare their poor mamans half to death? 😂 I don't have anything for this beyond notes, bc it literally just happened, but the idea is it's the first summer after they've mated and Luka didn't warn Marinette about shedding. Chaos ensues.

"Human Feet" is one Bloods prompted with the idea that Luka, not having spent a lot of time around humans, is fascinated by Marinette's feet. It's set within the first few days after they met, when Marinette comes back to the river to chat up this fascinating snakeman she just met, and she goes for a swim that puts her bare feet on full display. (There's a Tarzan-esque scene where she kicks him in the face and everything. I'm 90% sure I'm writing this one just for that scene. 😂)

"A Day in Your Scales" is another DQ & totally because of her Naginette fic The Magic of You. It's still getting hammered out as to setting/etc, but the initial idea was Marinette was having a moment of insecurity, wondering if Luka regretted mating a human, and made the mistake of sharing this fear with Rose. Rose, being the oh-so-helpful fae sister she is, tries to cast a glamour on Marinette that would make her a nagi for a day - except it backfires and also turns Luka human. And it's supposed to just be silly, fluffy learning how the other works/communicating/shenanigans (like, y'know, Luka learning how to walk).

Rose left before Luka returned, though she was loathe to leave Marinette alone with her concerning thoughts. When she relayed their conversation to Juleka, the nagi’s surprised expression mirrored the one Rose had worn.

“Ssssshe’s worried about what?” Juleka asked, her tail flicking behind her in agitation. Rose groaned as she threw her hands up in the air.

“I know, right?” she cried. “She’s being silly! How long have they been together now? And Luka’s crazy about her – like hell he’d actually leave her!”

“Luka is fierccccely loyal,” Juleka hummed in agreement. “Even if it was in our cussstom to leave a mate, he would be unlikely to. Not Marinette.”

Rose hummed, her troubled gaze on the vegetables she was chopping for their dinner. Juleka shifted again, looking at the mushrooms she was cleaning without really seeing them.

“…did ssshe ssssay why?” she asked, looking back at her mate. Rose shook her head.

“Not really, no,” she sighed. “It…kinda came out of the blue? We were talking about Anarka’s visit, and then she just…got really quiet. You don’t think it was Ma, do you? You don’t think she finally met Anarka and got scared off?”

“If our father hasn’t ssscared her off yet, I highly doubt Ma will,” Juleka scoffed. The ghost of a smile flickered on Rose’s face at that, but it didn’t really last. Juleka reached out and laid a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “I’m sssure it’sss nothing, love. Marinette may be a witch, but ssshe is ssstill human. It’ssss natural to have ssssuch doubtsss.”

“I never did,” Rose tutted, and Juleka rolled her eyes with a smile. Rose squeaked as she moved, quick as lightning, to jerk her away from the table and wrap her serpentine half around her. She loomed over her fae mate, a knowing smirk on her face. Her tongue flicked out, scenting the air around them. Rose loved when Juleka took charge like this. She could smell the sudden shift in her mood, from worried to aroused, and she savored it.

“You are Sssídhe,” she hissed, stroking the backs of her fingers along Rose’s cheek. “You have always been more…accussstomed to our world than Marinette. Ssshe ssstill has much to learn.”

…Juleka immediately knew, despite her intentions, that it was the wrong thing to say. Rose’s eyes had widened in delight, that familiar I Know How to Fix This! light gleaming in her sapphire depths. Juleka’s hand cupped her cheek, and she tapped her with a claw.

“Rose, no,” she said, but Rose only pulled her down for an enthusiastic kiss. She groaned when Rose pulled away and immediately began shimmying out of her coils. “Rose.”

“Oh, relax!” Rose tutted, waving her off. She winked at her over her shoulder, and then disappeared with a pop, her words echoing in the air around them. “It’ll be fine!”

Juleka sighed and picked up her cleaned mushrooms, carrying them over to the other vegetables to finish preparing their dinner. Despite what Rose said, she knew her mate. She always meant well, but…

Her eyes landed on the charmed hat hanging by the door. Rose always meant well, but her plans also always had a way of backfiring on them. She just prayed Rose knew what she was doing.

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cryinginthebackseat · 4 years

Text

initials t.c.

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x MC

Words: 7.299 (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary: Tobias Carrick makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: 50% plot, 50% smut, swear-a-thon, blasphemy

Author’s Note: when the book first introduced us to tobias carrick, the first thing that hit my mind was “okay, but that dude is like the carbon copy of jesse williams and that’s hot” but then, once it reveals who he is and what’s his role in the book i went “interestinggggggg” cause you know, i’m a sucker for morally grey characters and all, and i’m not even ashamed to admit it. also, carrick is shaping up to be such an interesting character with each chapter and maybe one day- okay, maybe this sounds like a pipe dream- but one day, i hope he can be a li (let a girl dream plz) lmao

also if anyone’s interested, i made a PLAYLIST to accompany reading the fic.

the title is inspired by serge gainsbourg’s initials bb

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Cast down off heaven Cast down on my knees I’ve lain with the devil Cursed god above Forsaken heaven

To Bring You My Love - PJ Harvey

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Whenever Claire thinks about Tobias Carrick, admittedly, unfortunately, tragically, she always thinks about his eyes first before remembering what a colossal pain in the ass he is.

It always comes in that order. Like the number 3 always comes before 4, like the seawater dragging back from the shoreline before a tsunami occurs, like pouring milk before the cereal (she honestly didn’t get what the fuss is about until one day Elijah cried ‘oh, hell no you don’t, satan!‘ one morning and proceeded to give her bullet points why pouring the milk before the cereal is considered a sin and more of an abomination than Nephilims’ existence and that there’s a higher probability that she’s a psycho for being a ‘milk first’ kind of person). So apparently, Claire’s a psycho now which explains so many aspects- but she digresses and the point is, the reaction is uncontrollable and she high-key hates how she can’t control her goddamn mind most of the time.

The point is, she needs to stop thinking about him to begin with.

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Claire Castelnuovo was born in the summer, under the sign of Gemini. Marilyn Monroe once said that stands for intellect, being a Gemini, but she was too blissfully unaware of this guerdon that she devoted her adolescent years to being outdoors instead. Too many days she spent trampling along the cornfields with her cousins until the skies faded out with brilliant purple-tinged amber and she was carrying a piece of the sun in her skin and smelled like one, stuffing wildflowers inside her boots as she walked around the neighborhood with her dad’s old stethoscope, napping in a hammock with Oasis’ All Around the World on repeat. By the time she hit 15, her black strands had turned brown from repeated sun exposure. She loved it.

But it was a different time, a different place. Somewhere that only exists on the margins of her memories, lost and hidden.

Now, Claire prefers the night.

It’s 9:30 pm when she arrives at a hotel bar in downtown Boston. A newly christened establishment which has somehow become a regular spot for Hemingway’s enthusiasts once the Boston Globe wrote an article about their Hemingway Daiquiri and how, as they wrote it, ‘probably the only place that’s brave and crazy enough to adhere to the 1930s original recipe’ and bourgeois party birds at wee hours during the weekend.

Her eyes are gritty, dry and strange. Her mind’s much worse for the wear- she feels like shit, like in the middle of watching that scene from The Green Mile shit when all is hopeless and you feel like walking out of the theater, but you’ve spent your last savings just to buy the ticket, so you decide to stick through it.

Claire makes a beeline for the bar, tries to flag down the bartender. She orders an Old Fashioned, making sure to specify to double it because she’s not a regular here and he’s not Reggie and that’s how she’s been taking her drink for years.

She knows well deep in her bones that she should be somewhere else. Somewhere more familiar, somewhere where Tim Mcgraw often plays from the subpar speakers, and the rustic wooden bar countertop is gouging and discoloring from the cheap household cleaners and alcohol stains, and her friends are cramming together in the same booth in the back, reveling and laughing until they close the bar down and make a mess all over. Perhaps it’s a mistake coming here, where no one’s a familiar face and the drinks are a tad overpriced for her budget.

But then, perhaps this is exactly what she needs; the unfamiliarity, the visceral feeling knowing that she doesn’t belong here, where no one knows her name and the huge deal of weight she’s currently carrying on her shoulders. Perhaps, she can’t face her friends after what happened, after what Esme has done. Shit, how could any of this happen? Claire knows this all on Esme’s, but her guilt has grown hopelessly tangled with her anxiety. She’s her intern, for fuck’s sake, Claire’s supposed to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Man, where’s Declan Nash when she feels like punching someone in the face?

Claire makes the mistake of drinking her drink too quickly, because it hasn’t been ten minutes and she’s drained half of the content. Then she reaches for her phone in her bag, fiddles with it, absent-minded, equal parts bored before then settles on watching the band performing Art Pepper’s You Go To My Head and immediately thinks of that time she accidentally dropped her brother’s saxophone in a moment of her rather graceless, wine-soaked self with the whole family present.

Someone plops down on the empty stool next to her. Claire’s now scrolling through her phone- again, bored. Sienna commented on the post Elijah shared to the group chat with a few unnecessary-yet-totally-necessary emojis to the already convoluted series of texts and Claire only reads them in silence, not only because her friends’ texting behaviors are too chaotic for her to follow sometimes but she’s not really feeling like talking to anyone right now.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Famous last words.

Claire freezes in her seat. Her phone’s still glowing in her hand, alighting her features. She recognizes that voice- too well, that is and it’s enough to set off her flight-or-fight response.

She glances up from her phone, preparing for the worst.

Well, what’s presented before her is literally the worst.

“Of all the gin joints…” she says once her eyes find Tobias Carrick sitting next to her, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled-up, a few buttons undone, reeking of smoke, soap and antiseptic with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

She should have gone to Donahue’s instead.

“Evening to you too, Castelnuovo. Drinking your dinner tonight, I see?”

“What, this? No, this is breakfast. 100% daily value of alcohol and pretty much nothing else. I mean, it’s not the weekend without a bad case of hangover and an aspirin snowglobe in the morning, am I right? You know, like a glass of aspirin? Not a literal snowglobe?” she blabbers, realizing just so by the time she hears him snort. Claire chokes down another sip to shut her mouth up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m about to commit first-degree murder and burn this whole place to the ground,” he drawls, the ever goddamn sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m trying to get dru-”

“No, I mean what are you doing here, of all places? Can’t you get drunk somewhere else?” she interrupts, her midwest accent does funny things to the vowels and consonants- something that only happens whenever she’s in distress, or at least according to Jackie.

“Last time I heard, this joint’s still owned by the Hilton, not a certain junior member of the Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook hospital.”

“Dude, what do you think of the H in Claire H. Castelnuovo stands for?” Deadpan, trying to keep up with the rolling sarcasm, she retorts. He smirks.

“Horatio?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she mutters, mid-eye-roll, mid-snickering.

He chuckles, his voice rich and smoky amidst the late-night swing and distant chatters. Carrick doesn’t leave, of course, typically him- if those anecdotes Ethan told her has taught her anything about his character, that is- defying everything, scheming his way to the top, the embodiment of ‘those devilish boys with their heavenly eyes’ type your mother warns you about.

Not that the latter is relevant.

“Or what?” His mouth twitches but there’s a hard, challenging light in his eyes that she knows too well by now.

“Or I’m leaving.“ She shoots him a glare. He’s testing her patience- again, like it’s his finesse. Some things never change, it seems.

“Come on, Castelnuovo, don’t be a sourpuss. The night is young and I can promise you, the last thing I am is a horrible drinking buddy.”

With a touch of irony, she replies: “I’m sure. I bet you asked your friends to fill out a questionnaire every time you went out with them, did you?”

Carrick hums.

“You’re funny.” But he says it in the same tone that someone might say Jesus fuck, you’re probably one of the most frustrating creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also, because the next thing he says is: “A little rough around the edges, but funny nonetheless.”

“That makes one of us then.”

Carrick frowns, which is kind of a surprise because she’s half expected him to flash her that signature cheeky grin of his.

“Listen, I’m just trying to make a friendly conversation here. I know we haven’t really seen eye-to-eye with each othe-”

Claire snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “That, doctor, is an understatement of the fucking century.”

“Okay so, we’re like Tom and Jerry but sans the background music and a naive little duckling running around calling one of us his momma, but I feel like now’s the time to call out a temporary truce between us.” A beat, then: “I heard about what happened with the intern.”

Something flashes across her face- and Carrick must have noticed it, because his face does this odd thing- it softens, even for a moment. She hates it. He’s not supposed to be looking at her like that, not supposed to see her at her weakest state or saved her ass- And Jesus, why does she have to be indebted to Tobias Carrick, of all people- But god forbid, the last thing she’ll ever do is crying in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, barely audible, trying to temper her fluctuated emotions.

“Then don’t. We can talk about anything else or fall into some sort of endless, meaningless platitudes. Whichever will work.” As if sensing Claire’s lingering hesitation, he adds. “Tell you what, to sweeten the offer, your next drinks are on me.”

She assesses him for a long minute, eyes narrowing. She’s shaking her head, but her mouth, as if against her will, instead says: “Careful, Carrick, there’s a chance I’ll be abusing that offer and run you dry.”

"Hey, if you want to butcher your liver so bad, don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure to save your ass again this time around. Pro bono.”

Claire looks as if she’s just swallowed a dead rat. “Thanks, but no thanks. Death seems more like an appealing choice.”

“Well, I stopped death from interfering then, I’ll stop it again.” Carrick winks, she pretends to gag again yet remains still in her seat, so Carrick waves at the bartender for their order- she orders for a refill and he, a martini and Claire is this close from asking 'shaken or stirred?’ but then remembers who he is and immediately washes the question down with her drink.

“You know, if anyone told me weeks ago that I’d be having a drink with you tonight, I probably would have socked them.“

Carrick is in the middle of lighting his cigarette, but laughs instead. “The Times They Are a-Changin’, as Bob Dylan said.” A puff of smoke escapes his mouth, curling around his fingers. Claire instinctively looks away. “Which reminds me of that one time your mentor sang Ballad of A Thin Man on the fucking subway when we were 20.”

She swivels her head to his direction, on the verge of choking on her drink. “Hold on, hold on, Ethan Jonah Ramsey sings?”

“Give him a dare he couldn’t refuse and a few shots of whiskey, and I promise you he’ll sing like Sinatra on crack.” He grins, his eyes are all crinkled and bright; she thinks that means he’s genuinely amused. “Ah, good times. We were like- wait, who was it he’d like to say we’re like again?”

A small smile pulls at her lips. “Bert and Ernie.”

“Jesus, he really fucking compares us to some Sesame Street characters, huh?” She laughs at that, loud and bright. He does the same. “Personally, I’d always say we were like Butch and Sundance back then- rebels with a cause, a band of misfits, trying to leave our marks on the world. You know those types. We were young, we wanted so much- I still do. I mean, let’s be real, whoever’s wanted to be defeated at their own game?”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, not quite a frown.

“Nobody,” Claire concurs, hating herself for it. “But was it worth it? Betraying the closest thing you had to a brother or a lover…” Carrick coughs on his smoke from the latter. “or whatever in the process just to get what you wanted?” Claire was obviously aiming for that brash, hard-hitting jab, but it lands gloriously too soft.

The bartender finally places their ordered drinks down on the bar. Carrick reaches for it, taking a careful swig, then sets his glass down. He takes a deep breath.

"It’s nothing personal. It never was. I never considered him as my rival.”

“Yeah, but by doing whatever you did, you’ve made an enemy out of him,” she counters. “Look, Carrick, I know we live in a dog-eat-dog world and I know being good sometimes doesn’t get the job done. Perhaps Machiavelli was right. Perhaps, when necessary, you have to be ruthless, dissembling and manoeuvring- what did he say again? ‘The end justifies the means’? But if any worthwhile end can justify the means to attain it, if everyone outright surrenders to their darker side, then what’s left of our humanity?”

For an interminable moment, there is only silence. He simply stares at her, as if she’s a walking, talking Rubik’s cube he can’t solve or a book that he has opened and now he’s got to know so much more and she feels pinned under those warm irises, uneasy.

Suddenly, his mouth begins to take shape; the corners hike up, stretch and then he does the unexpected.

The bastard fucking laughs.

“Excuse me?!” she spits, white-hot anger lacing each word. Carrick laughs harder- the audacity- despite Claire’s growing razor’s edge stare. “Did you just laugh at me? I was being fucking seriou-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wiping an imaginary tear from his left eye. “I was just remembering Harper’s words. She’s right, you really are on the side of the angels, aren’t you?”

She points at him with her glass, snarling. “And you, mister, are the devil himself with a medical degree and an egg head- and I don’t mean the slang for a highly academic person.”

“Ouch,” Carrick says out loud, still kind of laughing, borderline frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn straight. Though you have a lot to apologize for.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that one patient I stole under your nose?”

“The North remembers, ser,” she says, mean-spirited.

“Then does the North remembers that I saved her life?”

“Oh, so you’re discrediting the efforts of the other doctors that helped you make the cure?”

“Alright, alright. You win.” Carrick holds up his hands, the universal gesture of defeat and takes one final drag of his cigarette. He stubs it out, all the while keeping his gaze on her.

“So, how exactly can I make it up to you?“

Claire blinks- once, twice, thrice, realizing his intent. His voice drops an octave and he’s leaning in, close enough for her to notice the constellations of freckles splaying across his face and the way his brown eyes glinted like two shots of whiskey under a stream of light, intense and all-consuming. She feels her mind races, her brains feel as if they underwent a short-circuit and get caught on fire, and the fact that her mind’s on the precipice of exploring the idea is not helping.

A burst of laughter erupts from her throat, not that it’s funny- there’s nothing funny about the situation, but someone ought to diffuse this shift of tension between them, or that was her aim, at least.

“What, you wanna pay me back?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from cracking but failing miserably. Fingers trembling against her glass as she chugs nearly a quarter of her drink in one go.

He notices that.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, does he? If you think that I owe you one, then I’ll gladly pay.” His eyes flick back to her face, searing into her. The air crackles between them. The band is playing a different song now, a sound that only exists on the margin of her attention. If they’re in, say a mid 2000s rom-com movie, someone would probably interrupt this moment and save her from this. But this isn’t a movie.

Claire licks her lips, a candid reaction which encourages him to inch closer- or is it her? She can’t tell anymore. Tracing odd patterns on the palm of her hand with his finger and oh god, this is Carrick, the bane of her fucking existence, she’d shoot him first before she kisses him. But something about the prospect of fucking this bastard twists her insides deliciously into a confused mess.

“How? By fucking me?” she inquires, feigning scandalized- all that Catholic guilt bullshit.

He grins, all-teeth and wolfish and shrugs as if they’re talking about his life insurance policy or shit. “Well, that’s the idea.”

“But you don’t even like me.” It should come out as I don’t even like you, but even she knows that’ll be just another lie she tells.

“On the contrary, I enjoy our rivalry far more than I should, Castelnuovo,” he purrs and places a hand on her knee. Her throat bobs. She’s wearing a skirt, it didn’t seem important then, but now his hand feels warm against her skin, dangling on the edge of impropriety. Like gravity, all it takes is a little push for him to cross that line.

“I should be disliking the way you talk to me, challenging me and putting me on the back foot every goddamn time. I should be focusing on taking you down a peg, but the more I see you, the more I realize you have an attractive kind of power. And I’m just one man. And if there’s anything I learned, the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

But then his movement suddenly ceases. Claire almost asks why.

"However…”

“What?” she stares up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching.

“However if you only accept alcohol as the currency for transactions, then I’ll tell the bartender to get us another round instead,“ he tells her, offering her one last chance to back out from this, from making this mistake with him.

Claire stares into her drink, actually mulling this over. Her mind tells her no, but the other part- the alcohol-infused part of her mind- whispers otherwise. She imagines if Ethan or any of her friends are here, they would probably grab her shoulder and shake the living hell out of her for even reconsidering his offer.

But then again, intelligence, alcohol and desperation have always had a bad history of getting along together.

“What about June?” Claire asks against her better judgement, after a long, considerable pause. Carrick raises a confused brow.

“What about her?”

“I thought you guys…” she trails off, makes a face, feeling all-kind of flustered and aroused and wow, she’s really doing this, huh? “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t wanna get in between you guys.”

“Nah. It was only a three time thing, but there’s never been anything between us.” He chuckles at Claire’s askance look. “If you don’t believe me, you can fact-check it with the woman herself,” Carrick adds, looking at her dead-on with his eyes like he wants to get the message across.

She regards him silently for a long second, and maybe she’s a touch drunk now, maybe the bartender put something in her drink, or maybe she just needs to blow off some steam after what’s been happening in these past few weeks and Carrick happens to be a decent warm body for the occasion, but Claire finds herself shifting closer.

"Then I want you to pay me back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she answers, more sure this time, more determined.

Her nose bumps his, his breath fanning across her face all the while Carrick’s slightly pushing her skirt up, letting his fingertips travel higher. His eyes keep darting back and forth from her eyes and lips, checking for her reaction. There is no inhibition here, not anymore. People might be watching- heck, they could be already watching and it terrifies her that she doesn’t give a damn about it.

“But if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god… ” she warns and a shadow of mirth passes across his eyes, making her almost regretting this. Almost.

“Claire, darling.” It’s the first time he’s ever said her name and her stomach does a tango. “Your secret is safe with me.“ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He gets them a room in the hotel, it’s on the twentieth floor. Carrick handles the accommodation- he can afford it, apparently, which is not really surprising and the nuisating check-in procedure while Claire only waits in the lobby like a beautiful, agitated china doll amidst the turbulent sea the whole time until he comes back, flashes the room key at her and beckons her to follow.

She goes ahead of him, but he catches up. His body heat sends her anxiety rocketing sky-high through the roof as they walk next to each other, hands briefly brushing against one another but she ignores that (or at least she tries).

They are silent in the elevator, they are silent even once they reach the designated floor and walk down the hall to their room where the dim and shadowed lights follow their steps like vultures.

Carrick holds open the door for her and she enters, taking in the windows and the striking view of Boston skyline peeking behind the curtains, the TV and the queen-sized bed. The latter does nothing to assuage the anticipation that’s bubbling in the pit of her stomach, by the way.

Claire hears him shut the door, locking both bolts. She peers at him over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. Their eyes meet, neither speaks. He’s taking off his black peacoat, back against the door, he’s looking at her as if wanting her is his full-time occupation and the realizations comes in like a mule kick, how that tiny voice inside her head, the one that tells her that this is a bad idea and she’s better off leaving never comes.

The room is not considerably huge (with $110 per night, you would have expected you’d get a bigger room), he could easily have her in six large steps, yet he stands there. Sizing her up, smirking rather devilishly, handsomely as if challenging her to make the first move. It’s another fucking game with him. A display of power, waiting who would fall first.

Claire finally turns around to face him. With a renowned determination, she removes her coat, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. Her blouse follows next and her skirt, which she tugs it oh so slowly down her legs.

Carrick’s eyes widen, if she doesn’t know better, she thinks he’s speechless. He takes a deep breath, his gaze religiously following every movement as she twirls around once more to unhook her bra. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s having a hard time keeping himself in check which she takes an immense pleasure in. Claire just wants to see the man squirm for a change, even if she has to shed every article of clothing she wears.

By the time she slips off of her underwear, she is breathing raggedly. He hasn’t yet approached her so she crawls onto the bed, lying on her back with one elbow props her up, legs crossed. She kicks off her heels, rolls down her stockings with a bit of that noir come-hither, Lauren Bacall-esque heavy bedroom eyes.

Finally, Carrick steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away, like a target, filling her line of sight. The tension in the room is hot enough to send the thermometer reaching its maximum limit and she’s burning, burning, burning right through the core.

Claire cranes her head up to meet his gaze, noticing the way he’s drinking in her body like a pirate ogling a bottle of rum. High-strung, tense, Carrick lowers his head to her, his fingers carding through her long hair. Dimness consumes him raw, his silhouette is starting to find its place amongst the shadows except for his eyes. Never does the fire in his eyes falter, merely alight.

They are already nose-to-nose when Claire suddenly raises her hand over his lips. He withdraws from her, looking confused and hot and bothered.

“Take a seat over there, will you?” She motions to the settee near the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He smirks, but she can see his bravado if faltering. “Ordering me around in the bed now, are we?”

“Didn’t you say tonight is about you making it up to me?”

“Touche, touche.” Carrick straightens his posture and makes his way to the settee across from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat given the growing issue in his pants.

With eyes still trained to his, Claire cups her own breast, fingers pinching her pebbled nipple before the same hand travels lower down her stomach, her thighs. Carrick leans forward in his seat, obviously liking where this is going before Claire slowly and teasingly part her legs for him to see.

A surprised groan escapes him.

“Jesus, Claire,” Carrick hisses. “Fuck, I didn’t know you’re a goddamn tease.”

She doesn’t bother replying to him, but a winning grin finds its way across her face as she lays on her back, her shame and modesty are distant, knees pulled up so he can have a clear view of her. With two fingers, she runs them along her folds, dragging them slowly up to her clit. Claire imagines they are his fingers- which once upon a time would have horrified her, but tonight, as she repeats the motion over and over, knowing that he’s sitting there, watching her without being able to get his hands on her, she decides to submit to this newfound fantasy.

A rustle pulls her back to reality. He’s undoing his own pants, palming his cock, runs his fingers over the leaking head.

A low moan catches in her throat at that, her gaze snapping up from his erection to his face where his irises have darkened and pupils dilated. He wants to show her, that’s he’s as depraved as her when it comes to wanting, that he fucking wants her and in spades and she fails to think like a normal human being anymore.

Claire uses that image to work on herself harder, faster, feeling the intense pressure beginning to build beneath her fingers. She’s so wet now, despite him being able to see that, she wants him to hear it as well as she uses her idle hand to tap against herself. Carrick growls, his pace matching the rhythm she’s setting.

She slips her fingers inside her, drops her head back against the mattress and bites a loud moan that threatens to escape her lips. Flushing scarlet all over her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck. Her blood thumping louder than bombs in her ears, her breaths begin to come in gasps.

Another fast and hard thrust from fingers, and Claire finds herself sighing his name.

“Tobias…”

And every last bit of his self-restraint snaps.

In just a blink of an eye, Carrick is already on his feet, grabs her waist, harshly, and tugs her down onto the edge of the bed where he’s now kneeling before her. He doesn’t bother with the teasings or soft kisses or caresses, and even before Claire has the time to register what’s happening, he crushes his face between her parted legs and eats her out.

She gasps, high and fleeting, twisting the bed sheet between her fists while his tongue flicks over her, moving back up, back down, lapping along her folds in the same motions she showed him with her hand, how she likes it. Claire forgets how to breathe. It just occurs to her just how arousing the sight of him on his knees like this, sending her mind hitchhiking into outer space.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathes, back arching on the bed with a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Tobias!” Her hips gyrate over his mouth and she presses her heels against his shoulder blades. She’s so close. All she needs is a little push to send her careening into oblivion and it seems that Carrick can sense it because he brings two digits to her entrance and slides easily inside her, setting a ruthless pace.

With her hands reaching out to the back of his head, Claire cries out his name and trembles violently. Encouraged, Carrick curves his fingers inside her, hitting that exact spot that finally undoes her as she comes, long and hard, around his mouth and fingers- the kind of orgasm that you can feel deep in your bones- and watches as fireworks dance behind her lids.

When she finally comes down from her high, everything is hazy. It’s like waking up from a deep slumber after a decadent soak in a scented bath and she loses all orientation, until she feels him nipping the inside of her thighs. She hisses, glances down, heavy-lidded eyes finding Carrick is leaving bruises after bruises all over her skin like some kind of a lewd memento of his work, like he wants her to remember this the next time she wakes up in her own bed and he’s not there.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Na'vi, doctor?” She asks, still kinda breathless, feeling surprisingly conversational despite having just experienced, if not, one of the best orgasms in her life. He smiles against her thigh and withdraws from her, only after her thighs are sufficiently bruised enough, licks his fingers clean and stands up at the end of the bed.

“Maybe. You’d make a cute blue extraterrestrial creature, though,” he replies cheekily, then undoes the button of his shirt, showcasing his naked torso.

Claire feels her cheeks heating up again, but forces herself to stare; eyes following his pectoral muscles, down to the toned lines of his abdomen while he slides off of his pants. The man is one fine specimen, alright, and he knows- smug bastard- and she thinks it’s such a shame that Carrick is… well, Carrick. If the man learns how to shut up for one minute or avoid trying to sabotage everyone’s career at Edenbrook altogether, maybe, just maybe, she’d consider him.

“But honestly, I just wanted to hear you say my name again,” Carrick continues, crawling his way up to her, pulling her out of her musings. He settles between her thighs. His lips finding her ear and nibbling at the lobe while his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple. Claire shivers. Nails scraping along his skin, raising angry marks that would certainly be there tomorrow.

When they kiss, it’s so good that she can’t help but curl her toes. He kisses her like he’s trying to steal her breath or her name. She can taste herself in his mouth, which sparks so many feelings inside her. Her mind’s foggy, sweat pooling on her forehead. Carrick is but shoves his tongue into her mouth, lapping at her, biting, sucking and she leans hard into the kiss, retaliates by scraping her teeth against his bottom lip. It spurs him on. Making his cock twitch against her thigh and Claire decides she can’t wait anymore.

Claire rolls her hips at him. He takes the hint and rolls over to grab a condom from his pants. Then he’s back on top of her, his weight and heat crushing her most deliciously and brings her body further up the bed with him; she drapes her legs around his hips, hands gripping his arms. Her lust and anticipation collaborate to the point of near madness.

Carrick nips the taut line of her jaw and drives himself into her.

They both groan in unison.

“Oh, fuck.” Carrick mumbles between shaky breaths, his face pressed against her throat. “Fucking hell, Claire, you feel so warm.”

Claire, on the other hand, goes rigid under him. Her mouth hangs open and her world narrows down to the feeling of his cock inside her and the pleasure that builds up again in her abdomen.

This is happening, she thinks, he’s inside her and it feels so amazing. She might as well be crazy for agreeing to do this with him in the first place, but the promise of the thrill beats the doubts.

He starts slow, just the smallest fraction of hips, gently thrusting back and forth in shallow motions. She whines, frustrated and impatient, raising her own hips to meet his, but Carrick’s weight pins her onto the mattress and she can’t fucking move.

“F-faster,” Claire stammers, her molars grinding like toothache.

The bastard smirks, like he’s been anticipating the word coming out of her mouth.

“Beg for it.” His words are punctuated with every unhurried stroke he’s giving her, teasing her and if she’s not in the middle of being fucked right now, she would have kicked him in the balls.

Growling, she swallows her plea by pulling Carrick down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who does the biting and the sucking, making sure he’s distracted enough and then just like with all the things she does in her life, she takes the matter into her own hands.

With all her strength, she scrambles up, pushes him off of her and knocks him onto his back flat on the bed. When she swings her legs to straddle him, his eyes pop.

“Holy shit, you are feisty.”

“Only cause I’m angry and horny,” she bites off. Angling herself above him and with one hand, guides his shaft back to her opening. “And you- you weren’t doing a proper job fucking me.”

He smirks. “I was trying to wind you up.”

“Fuck you.”

She lowers herself and sinks back onto his cock, relishing in his moans and growls.

“Baby, you’re doing it.” His hands curling around her waist, his head falls back onto the bed, exposing his throat and Claire is so hard-pressed not to bite him there.

Claire ignores his smartassness, naturally, and lifts herself, drops back down. Slamming her hips into his until she’s bouncing on him. Nails clawing at his chest. Finally be able to set a pace she desperately craves for, finally wiping that smirk off of his face.

Under her, Carrick is biting his lip in an effort to not to lose control. His hands are everywhere now; her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. Leaving fire on its wake. She might still hate him after this is strange, little arrangement is over but at this juncture, he’s exactly the remedy she needs after everything.

Then Carrick wraps his arms around her and picks up the pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. Claire shakes. She can’t catch her breath, her forehead pressed on his shoulder, her teeth latching onto his skin. Breathing a string of 'fuckfuckfuck’ while he squeezes her ass and continues to fuck her with careless abandon.

"Tobias.” Her moans amplify. She’s close to climaxing again, her legs quivering. Eyes wide shut. “Please, please.” So much for not begging.

He pulls her to him so their foreheads meet. Their lips brush against each other, but they aren’t kissing, merely trading breaths. A hand touches her cheek and her lids flutter open, finding his eyes- those depthless, amber eyes that pretty much lead her to this point, are watching her, pulling her in.

“Say it again,” he encourages darkly, face twists in pleasure. “My name. Say it again.”

She does it again, it comes out as a groaned whisper, repeating it over and over again like a sacred mantra.

Her second orgasm sweeps through her, making her spine arches, it tears a winded moan from her throat and it’s more than enough to trigger Carrick’s own release; fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, groaning gutturally.

Panting, sore but sated, Claire collapses on top of his chest, his arm still drapes around her. The rise and fall of his breath lull her to sleep. Before she knows it, he gently rolls her to his side, pulling the covers for them and kisses her on the shoulder, which comes out as… odd for her.

The bed moves and she feels him leaving.

He’s leaving.

She doesn’t know why it stings, but it does. But also Claire opts not to pay no mind to it and forces her mind to surrender to sleep that once again tries to take hold.

Claire wishes she doesn’t dream of him that night, but she does.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s way past midnight when she wakes up. The room is dark. The curtains are closed. She’s still naked and sore under the covers, mind reeling in from what has just transpired.

One might ask in which universe does Claire Castelnuovo agree to sleep with Tobias Carrick? Well, apparently they did it in this one and oddly still, she doesn’t regret it. Though she’s still low-key sad that he left her straight after sex, but hey, what can she do about it? This arrangement itself is nothing but a means to an end, anyway, a perverse alternative for him to pay back what he allegedly owes her, she shouldn’t be surprised if he left after the ‘debt’ is paid.

Feeling her mood somehow takes an unexpected dip, she gets us from the bed and gathers her clothes on the floor.

She’s in the middle of zipping up her skirt when the bedside lamp flickers and comes on.

Claire turns around. Carrick, rousing from sleep, looks at her, rubbing his eyes and stifles a yawn. His lips still tinged from her kisses and bites.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep and Claire thinks her mouth is hanging open, standing rooted to the spot like a spider on an icicle; frozen in time.

For a moment, she does nothing but stares at him, being rendered speechless. For many times, Tobias Carrick never fails to surprise her. Just when she thinks she has him all figured out, he comes sneaking in through her windows like a thief in the night and it just strikes her, how he really is an uncharted territory for her. Despite her having him pinned under her, exploring the hard planes of his body under the touches just a few hours ago.

The man is like a fucking myth, at this point. She knows him only from stories and her limited time around him, but who is exactly Tobias Carrick? Is he the competitive doctor at Mass Kenmore, the Machiavellian asshole that severed his friendship/relationship with Ethan for the sake of his greed and ambition? Or is he, Tobias Carrick, the man who saves her life, makes her laugh and kisses her shoulder in the afterglow?

She’ll probably never know.

“Yeah, my roommates will probably deploy a search party if I don’t come home tonight,” she replies, distracted, finally finding her own voice back. He nods, feigning disappointment- or is he not? She clears her throat and continues putting on her clothes. “I thought you left.”

He chuckles at the absurdity of her deduction. “And without saying goodbye?” Carrick rolls off of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s already wearing his pants- thank fuck for that- and approaches her. “I may be an asshole, Castelnuovo, but just so you know, my mother raised me better than that.”

So they’re back to their usual last name basis perimeter. That’s good, right? After all of this, she thinks a little familiarity would be nice for her sanity.

“Good to know, then.”

Silence encompasses the room. It’s awkward and overwhelming and it throws her a little off-balance. At the bar, they seemed to know exactly what to say to each other- especially him; but now, even she can sense the hesitation in his gait, at the way he’s looking at her and a faint alarm is trilling her head. Because if he’s making this awkward, she can do a whole lot of worse.

"Oh, before you ask, that makes up for pretty much everything, yeah. I mean, it’s alright.” You fucking dumbass, she thinks to herself, averting his gaze while a smile blooms on his face.

“Good to know, then.” He parrots her words and she huffs a laugh, freely and sweetly, like she’s currently not knee-deep in her problems or she’s just fucked the most incorrigible man that ever exists. He does too, but his gaze lands on her mouth before going back to her eyes.

Another silence passes. It’s time to go.

“I have to go now.”

He nods mutely and moves away so Claire can step past him.

She wears her coat. In the mirror, she still looks thoroughly fucked; her hair’s dishevelled, she smells like him now, but she really needs to go. She promises herself that this will be a one time thing because, Jesus fuck, she’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s not fifteen anymore, and this is not the summer where she can watch the sunset from the cornfields with her cousins even though his eyes possess the same color.

Yet she walks toward the door in a daze, like she’s forgetting something but can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Can I-”

“Hey, do you-”

She stops, mid-turning, and closes her mouth. She doesn’t realize she’s interrupting him.

“Oh, sorry,” Claire says, embarrassed. “You go first, it’s alright.”

“Can I have your number?” he asks, uncharacteristically hesitant.

She thinks he’s joking or maybe he’s just feigning interest, but one look at his eyes and she can tell that this isn’t smoke and mirrors.

The eyes, chico. They never lie. It’s dumb, but that line from Scarface is the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why when she hands him her phone, her hand is shaking slightly. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a maniac.

Claire takes a cursory glance at her phone once he returns it. He saved his number solely as t.c. with the water drop, the syringe, the ghost, the eggplant, the firework emoji and she chuckles endearingly, questioning the universe how he can easily get both a rise and a laugh out of her.

“I’ll text you?” Carrick asks again and she nods a little too enthusiastically at it, but what the hell?

“Sure.”

“Alright.” He takes one look at her, steps closer and for a moment, she thinks he might be going to kiss her.

“Goodnight, Claire,” Carrick says instead and she nods, admitting the fact that he’s not going to do it.

“Goodnight to you too, Tobias.” Then pauses at the doorway, feeling surprisingly bold. “I gotta give it to you, though, for someone who’s become the bane of my existence for months, you’re a damn good lay.”

He barks out a laugh, obviously, that Claire can hear all the way down the hall. And she thinks she can get used to the sound.

fin.

Tag list: @villain-fuckarooni @beckaroo @arfeiniel @this-person-is-busy @colossalpainintheass @drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile

#playchoices #open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #open heart mc #oh mc #pixelberry #choices stories you play

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

a blip in the reader-verse

chapter 3: someone in the crowd

summary: in your expedition through the multiverse, you find yourself in the crowd of a war bond show.

warnings: somewhat of a bittersweet ending

word count: 1.8k

author’s note: let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. i’d love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, so any likes/reblogs/comments are very much appreciated!

previous chapter / series masterlist

Steve sat up abruptly, breathing heavily and heart racing from the vaguely distressing experience of being in someone else’s dream. And to top that off, the stakes of being in the dream were extremely high. If he couldn’t contact you and convince you that something was off, he could be stuck here, in the wrong universe, forever.

Steve rolled over and sighed, only to be met with the curious expression of the Ancient One, and nearly jumping out of his skin.

“Did it work?” She questioned, and Steve wordlessly nodded while anxiously cracking his knuckles.

“So now we wait?” He asked, turning his body around so his feet were planted firmly on the floor. Feeling the ground against him gave him a slight sense of comfort, knowing that he was back in the real world.

“You and I cannot take that risk. I’m going to try to send your consciousness into another universe, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find your way home. If not, then… I’m not sure what else there is to do.”

“It’ll work though, right?” Steve looked up at her through furrowed brows.

“We can only hope so.”

——

Before your eyes even opened, you noticed the all-encompassing raket of a crowd clapping and hollering for… Captain America?

You opened your eyes and glanced around at your surroundings. If you were sure of one thing, it was that you weren’t in a time that was even somewhat close to yours. That quickly became clear to you as you observed the people sitting around you, and the astoundingly monochrome clothing of those around you.

You looked down at yourself, and observed your own time period appropriate outfit, your knee-length flowered dress fell nicely against your body, but the shoulder pads weighing on your collarbone kind of made you feel like a football player. You also quickly caught onto the fact that your watch seemed to turn itself into a pendant on your neck. You then glanced up at the stage, and noticed your alarming proximity to it.

As the curtains on the stage opened, a profound silence fell across the audience. You looked up at the platform expectantly, and you were not disappointed when your boyfriend of many years popped out.

Except, he seemed much more jovial. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t so dark, and he seemed to have a lightness in his step as he pounced around the stage. In the midst of your ogling, the woman next to you leaned over and set a hand over your knee.

“Didn’t I tell you he was gonna be cute?” she whispered in your ear. At the sound of her voice, you felt a wave of recollection surge over you.

This was your friend Aaliyah, just like your closest childhood friend back in your own reality, who’d dragged you out to this war-bond-promotion thing to see her man crush of the week.

“He’s really dreamy,” you concurred, not taking your eyes off of the man.

“So you’re not mad at me for bringing you out here anymore?” She asked, an air of teasing in her voice.

“Shh!” a voice from somewhere above you hissed down at the two of you.

The both of you rolled your eyes, then you looked over to Aaliyah and shared a knowing look with her.

You looked back at the stage, and watched the routine play out, giggling to yourself at times. The whole show had been at least 10 times funnier, now knowing Steve, even if this wasn’t exactly your Steve.

In the midst of a giggling fit, Steve glanced down at you, and flashed you a pearly grin. Despite seeing that beautiful smile millions of times, you couldn’t help but to slightly swoon, and look over at Aaliyah excitedly.

She gaped her mouth open at you, and pointed at you with a brow furrowed in confusion, ‘You?’ she mouthed. You responded by pointing at yourself with an equally shocked expression, and mouthing, ‘Me?’

It seemed like the show was over after that, and the lights in the room slowly rose back to their original colors.

“Holy shit!” Aaliyah squealed, grabbing your arm. “Did Captain fucking America smile at you?”

“If you saw what I saw, then yes!” You grabbed her opposite arm, “we have to celebrate this somehow, right? I think this deserves celebrating.”

You were honestly surprising yourself with the words coming out of your mouth. Part of you knew that Steve looking at you was a regular occurrence that you were used to, but the part of you that actually lived in this universe’s feelings must’ve been strong enough to override even the most logical part of your brain.

“Uh, hell yeah it deserves celebrating. Let’s go!” The two of you stood up, and you straightened out your dress a bit before squeezing through the aisle of chairs, and heading out of the concert hall.

Leaving the hall turned out to be more of a hassle than you’d initially expected. The lobby towards the exit was packed like a can of sardines, and you and Aaliyah seemed to be standing around for an excruciatingly long period of time.

During this period of time, you zoned out a bit, only half-listening to Aaliyah drone on about some new John Ford movie.

In this downtime, you decided to ask yourself why you hadn’t left this universe yet, since this was so clearly not the one you belonged in, and not the reality your Steve was in. You came to the conclusion that your morbid curiosity of what may happen next in this reality was more than enough to motivate you not to leave. Besides, who knows? Maybe you could learn a lesson about yourself, or some other corny thing like that.

Lost in your own thoughts, you failed to notice the built blonde man draped in a brown trench coat and looking down speed walking straight into you, and sending you stumbling back into your friend’s arms.

He looked down at you with worry in his eyes, and extended a hand out to you quickly. “My gosh, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed.

Steve.

Of course, fate had decided to bring you to the man (who technically wasn’t really your man).

You gladly accepted his hand, and let him pull you forward a bit. Your cheeks warmed at the little touch, and you swore you could sense Aaliyah gawking behind you.

“Again, my apologies…?” You could tell that Steve was leaving an opening for your name.

“Oh, uh, Y/N,” you smirked a bit at him.

“Let me make it up to you, Y/N,” he offered politely, and speaking softly so that he wouldn’t attract too much attention.

“Make up pushing me on accident?” You giggled at this. Steve somehow managed to be a bit of an unsmooth dork in every reality.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. But only if you want me to… make it up to you,” a bit of a rose tinted blush was clearly visual on Steve’s face.

“I would love that.”

----

“The perks of having a circus monkey take you out, is that he knows all of the back entrances and exits,” Steve explained while weaving his way through the building.

“Is that some sort of saying from the 40’s?” You casually threw out, following behind Steve as the two of you made your way through the back of the concert hall. As soon as you realized the weight of your words, your eyes went wide.

“What?” Steve asked, looking back at you while the two of you continued your trek.

“Nothing,” your eyes bounced around the room, and you tried to think of something to change the subject to. Luckily for you, you’d arrived at the door, and that was subject change enough. Steve opened the door for you, and held it as you walked through.

You immediately recoiled at the scent of the city. Simply put, it smelled like the Industrial Revolution. Quickly playing it off, you turned your head to look at Steve, and reach out to grab his hand.

“So, where are you planning to take me, Captain?” Steve gladly accepted your hand back, and you happily intertwined your fingers, despite the slight dampness you noticed on his palms. Was The Captain America sweating from nerves from being around you? You’d have to mentally note this to tell Aaliyah later.

“Well, there’s this diner somewhere around here that I’ve heard is pretty good. You interested?” He glanced over at you, and you pursed your lips as you faked deep thought about the proposition.

“You really know the way straight to a gal’s heart, huh?”

----

You had been sitting in a booth across from Steve for what must’ve been hours now. The conversation between the two of you seemed to flow naturally, as if you were longtime friends. In a way, you kind of were, but in another very real way, this was just the beautiful start of something that would blossom more with every second you spent with Steve.

You picked at a napkin, and Steve glanced down at his watch.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, concern clearly present in your tone.

“It’s just really late, and my manager’s gonna be pissed if I miss my flight tomorrow,” Steve sighed sadly, and reached into his pocket for a pen. “I’ll be trading New York for Wisconsin. So exciting, I know, but we gotta get the war bonds somehow,” he chuckled.

“I get it,” you nodded sadly, then noticed Steve scribble something onto a napkin.

“You know Howard Stark?” he questioned.

“Heard of him,” you nodded slowly.

“Well, he’s working on this new thing. It’s just like a phone, but it comes with you everywhere you go. I have a prototype of it, I think it’s pretty neat,” he slid you the napkin. “This is it’s number. You can call me any time, anywhere, and I’ll pick it up.”

You smiled sadly at Steve, but accepted the napkin, folding it into a neat little triangle, and slipping it into your dress pocket. “Is this goodbye?”

“Just for now,” he stood up from the booth, and you followed suit, before he reached for your hand and laced your fingers with his.

The two of you silently walked out of the diner, hand-in-hand. Steve eventually pulled his palm away from yours, and started for the direction of his hotel. Although, before he could get too far, you scurried over to him, and pressed a quick peck against his cheek, catching him by surprise, “Bye, Steve. I’ll see you soon.”

“Of course. Bye, Y/N,” Steve waved as he departed, and you made your way towards the curb so you could hail a taxi.

A taxi quickly pulled up to you, and slipped into the backseat and muttered your address. The soft vibration against your chest that alerted you that it was time to go, did not go unnoticed by you, and you closed your eyes as you attempted to relax into the rather uncomfortable seat.

next chapter

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #marvel fanfiction #ABITRV #40's AU

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

s n a k e | e y e s [chapter 3]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; 🥺💕thank you for all the interest in snake eyes!! I can't believe it!! y’all don’t know how happy that makes me because I love this au!! 💕💕💕 in this chapter: jihoonie makes a small oopsies 🥴oral(female receiving), minor switch!woozi, hehehe... im sorry, im mean and u will know why 😭😭💕 also this chapter is long, strap in for the long ass ride!! yeehaw

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - x - x - x - x

It takes a week and a half for you and Jihoon to really fall into a rhythm that suits his and your needs.

Jihoon is still shy around you, only spending an hour or two with you while you work until he feels too awkward again, slinking away back into his room. You wonder, periodically, if he happened to hear what you were doing in your bedroom the night he came to stay with you and if that was the reason he’d been so shy and quiet around you. But you quickly shake the thoughts out of your head, preferring to believe that he hadn’t, for your sake and his. Jihoon had never mentioned anything to you anyway, so you had no reason to believe he’d heard anything.

But it’s a rainy Sunday afternoon that has you bundled up in an oversized sweater on the living room sofa, laptop haphazardly on a side table while you take a break from writing. A movie plays quietly on the tv in front of you, but you don’t really pay attention to it. Jihoon emerges from his room, covered up in a big sweater and his sweats as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa.

“It’s… r-really cold today…” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, as he pulls his legs up onto the sofa, crossing them as he tries to cover his skin. “I… kinda had a h-hard time sleeping.”

“Did you need more heaters? The forecast said it’s supposed to rain for the next couple days, Jihoon…” You trail off, already sliding off of the sofa as you fetch a blanket for the cold male. “I can go pick you up another one tomorrow, if you’d like?” Draping the soft blanket over him, he thanks you, snuggling into the soft material. “If it’s okay… I don’t want you to go out of your way if it’s too much.” You chuckle, settling into your spot on the sofa again as you pick up your laptop to get a bit of work done.

“Nonsense, I want you to be comfortable here.”

Jihoon’s stomach grumbles 45 minutes later as he sinks deeper into the plush blanket, hiding the flush that covers his cheeks. You laugh slightly, already hopping off to make him and yourself a snack to eat.

“You’re more than welcome to rummage the kitchen whenever you want, y’kno. Or if you want me to make you something to eat, you can always ask.”

“Sorry I’m just… still getting used to it. You’re definitely nicer than my past owners.” You hum, curious about how his previous owners treated him for him to be this shy, or if he was just naturally always this timid. “It’s okay! Take your time. I know it’s weird but I’m… I’m still getting used to it too.” You feel your body heating up, suddenly reminded of a questionable dream you’d had the previous night; the cute snake hybrid invading even your mind when you slept recently. God I really need to get laid somehow, you think, maybe that cute barista from down the street would be interested? I think his name was Jun. Reminder to self to get his number next time.

You grab a pan, setting it onto the stove as you gather ingredients to make ddeokbokki; something that Jihoon really loved to snack on. “Hey, Jihoon? Did you wanna help me make this? I can teach you a bit!”

There’s a shuffling from the living room before the blonde haired male steps into the kitchen, a curious look on his face.

“I’ve never cooked before though…”

“It’ s okay! I can teach you. Just so that.. Um, just in case I’m not home or something and you get hungry?” He nods, stepping closer towards you as you set various ingredients onto the counter top. “Okay, I’ll just... Watch you.” You smile at him, urging him to come closer as you begin explaining what to do. But Jihoon’s mind fixates on something else, your voice getting drowned out when he feels the warmth radiating off of your body when he steps closer. Unbeknownst to you, Jihoon decides to stand almost directly behind you as you continue to explain how to cook to him.

When his hands start to slide up the hem of your sweater, you pause, setting the measuring cup back onto the counter top where it was before. Jihoon’s cold fingertips begin traveling up your sides, delicately caressing your skin under your sweater. Your breath is caught in your throat when he then leans his head over your shoulder, his tongue softly lapping at the exposed skin of your neck. A moan catches in your throat when you realize your body’s already rapidly heating up at his touch, the snake hybrid behind you also letting out a tiny moan of his own when he realizes how warm you’ve gotten.

But you snap back to reality, panic taking over when you let out a garbled noise, pushing back against Jihoon.

“Oh my g-god, wait--wh--”

Jihoon panics, pupils shaking as he pulls away completely, pressing himself into the fridge for a second before immediately bolting out of the kitchen without a word; only a door slam in the distance letting you know where he is.

A couple hours pass, the rain still pattering against the window as the moon rises beyond the clouds.

The ddeokbokki from earlier went unmade; ingredients going back to their original places as you decided to retreat to your own bedroom to catch your breath and cool yourself down. You really hadn’t hated what happened earlier, but it was quite the shock, and you could only imagine what Jihoon was feeling as well. But you set those feelings aside, making your way down the hallway to his bedroom to ask him about dinner. Fuck, he must be starving. He didn’t even eat earlier, you think.

You knock on his door, a muffled “yes?” coming from the other side.

“Jihoon did you want to eat dinner with me or will you eat later?”

“Uhm, hmm, I’m…um, I’ll.. I’ll eat with y-you.”

You set up the dinner table, setting Jihoon’s food across from you. You were glad that he just ate normal human food as it made it easier for you to take care of him; unsure if you could sit and watch him eat what snakes normally did. Hearing a door click, you break out of your thoughts, seeing him walk towards the dining table with a blush on his face.

“I… um…”

“Yes Jihoon?”

“I just… about earlier, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have… um, stuck my hands in y-your shirt like that…”

The memory alone has you blushing, his delicate and cold fingertips brushing against your ribcage had a tingle traveling up your spine and down to your fingertips. You hadn’t hated it; just the shock from his touches had you initially recoiling, sending Jihoon running straight for his bedroom where he had holed up for hours.

“I… It was okay. I, um, didn’t hate it actually…”

“O-oh, uh, so… um, is it okay? If… If I do that sometimes? It’s… you feel nicer than, um, the h-heaters in my room so…”

“Y-yeah, I mean… y-yes, that would be… okay.” Shock momentarily flits over his features before a genuine smile etches onto his face. “Okay… U-um I mean, it---it won’t---I won’t, y’know, stick my hands in your shirt but maybe like---like we can, um, cuddle? Sometimes?” You almost choke on your food at his suggestion, suddenly too shy to make eye contact with him at how innocent it all sounded.

“Yeah that… that would be fine!”

The two of you have normal dinner conversations, you asking him about songs he’s been working on while he asks you about work. You remind him that you’ll pick up a new heater in the morning and begin clearing the table with his help.

When the dishes are cleared, you bid Jihoon a good night; thankful that the snake hybrid wasn’t too awkward after everything that had happened earlier in the day. He calls your name as you turn away from your doorway to face him again.

“Yes, Jihoon?”

“Um, I was wondering… If it’d be okay if I slept in your room? It’s just… Uh, it’s cold and raining and... yeah.”

You contemplate it for a second, wondering if that was really the best idea, all things considered. But you mentally shrug, thinking, it’s just sleep.

“Sure, why not. Why don’t you get ready for bed and just… come in when you’re ready?” He nods, thanking you before he slinks down the hallway to his bedroom to change. The entire thing feels a little questionable, but you shrug it off, getting ready for bed before Jihoon shows up.

Admittedly, you normally would sleep in a big shirt and panties since you slept alone. But since Jihoon would be joining you this time, you slip on a sweater and some pajama pants, opting to be completely covered in order to prevent any potential mishaps. You could only pray your dreams were normal.

There’s a knock on the door when you slide under the bed sheets, adjusting your pillows before you reply.

“Come in!”

Jihoon opens the door, shutting it behind him as he stands in front of it awkwardly. Much like yourself, he stands there in an oversized sweater and pajama pants, hands digging into the material of his sweater as he takes in the features of your bedroom. When his eyes finally land on you already under the sheets, you pat the side of the bed that’s empty, inviting him in.

“C’mon let’s sleep. I still need to go out tomorrow morning to get your things.”

The extra heater is forgotten the next morning when you wake up in his iron grip.

It’s not uncomfortable, but he’s only got one arm wrapped around your waist and you find it almost virtually impossible to escape his hold as he snores softly into your neck. So you lay there, listening to the pitter-patter of the non-stop rain and his soft breaths, thankful that the two of you had fallen asleep without a hitch and that your dreams were normal.

Jihoon had quietly slid into the large bed with you, muttering a ‘good night’ before your radiating warmth under the sheets had lulled him to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes as you lay there, but eventually Jihoon decides to wake up, a yawn and a simple ‘good morning’ muffled into your skin before he pulls away, turning to face the opposite side. You sit up, rubbing your tired eyes as you check the clock. 11:09am.

“Did you want breakfast?”

You never buy the heater; Jihoon happily moving some of his personal items to your bedroom after that late morning breakfast. And you didn’t mind, as long as the snake hybrid was happy, so were you.

He had dragged in a heater, using it on nights when you came to bed late, only for you to shut it off when you finally slid underneath the covers. He would easily find your warmth, rolling over to lock you into his grasp as you fell asleep.

It became routine over the next couple of weeks, even when the clouds cleared and the days and nights were warm. Jihoon opened up to you more as well, dragging his keyboard into the living room to play you some of the songs he’d been working on in his old bedroom, now a work space. You’d often work in your spare room but recently you’d been spending more time in the living room with Jihoon, finding the space more comfortable to be in. Setting your work away, you lay down on the sofa, a yawn on your lips.

“Hey, can I, um, ask you something?”

His voice breaks you out of your train of thought as you adjust your body. Jihoon sits on the floor near the window, fingers tapping random keys on the keyboard as he avoids eye contact.

“Yeah, what’s up?” There’s hesitance written all over his face before he nods to himself, exhaling sharply before he replies.

“I… I know maybe I’m asking for a lot and, I mean, feel free to say no because I know you probably will! And that’s--that’s okay but I was wondering… if--if I…” Jihoon pauses for much too long as you raise a brow.

“If you what? Jihoon, is everything okay?”

“I, yeah, everything’s fine, I just.. I’m sorry, I… It’s okay if you think it’s weird and I’ve never really done it before either but I just, I noticed when… when I touch you, you get really, um, warm and I… I like it a lot so I was wondering if I could try something?”

A million different thoughts float through your head in a millisecond and you can’t stop the blush that creeps up your neck and paints your face red.

“Um, I guess… it would depend? What exactly… did you want to try?” You bite the inside of your cheek, already trying to keep yourself from squirming around.

“I… can I try… eating you out? I wanna see something.”

The formality of Jihoon asking so politely if he could go down on you sends your brain short circuiting quicker than lightning.

He’s convinced at this point you hate him and will probably send him back to the adoption home the next day when he sees the blank look on your face as you process.

“Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked that, I---”

“Y-yes…”

“Wait, what, hold--” Jihoon turns into a sputtering mess, his palms clammy against his sweats as he squirms. “Wait, did you say… yes?” You nod, already feeling the heat pooling in your lower abdomen as you shift awkwardly on the sofa. “Yeah I… um, I’d… be okay with that…” Trailing off, you try to look at everything but Jihoon, mildly embarrassed at how increasingly wet you were already getting.

“O-okay, um, when should we… do it?” Jihoon’s voice is shaky and to anyone else he sounded nervous, but inside he could barely contain his new found excitement.

“Now is okay? I… I’m okay with right now.” You finally look at him, finding him already crawling over to you on the floor before moving the coffee table enough to sit on his knees in front of you. “I guess, let’s start…?” He trails off, the blush never leaving his face as he twiddles his thumbs. You nod, sitting up to slide your shorts off, shimmying to the edge of the sofa as you spread your legs for him.

“Interesting.”

“W-what?” You stare at him from between your legs as he slots himself in front of you, cold palms holding your thighs open as you shiver from his touch. “Nothing, just… you’re already wet.”

If there was a sinkhole underneath you, you’d like for it to take you right about now. The embarrassment sets your body on fire as Jihoon chuckles under his breath. “And now you’re really warm? Interesting.” You bite your lip as he leans in closer to your clothed mound, his tongue peeking out from between his lips.

“Ready to test my theory?”

Gulping, he doesn’t even give you a chance to reply before he’s licking you through your panties, his tongue adding pressure along the wet patch growing on the fabric. Your thighs threaten to clamp shut around his head but his grip on you is too tight, prying your legs wide open as he continues to lick at your clothed entrance.

Jihoon pauses for a second, a groan leaving his lips. “Fuck, you taste so good, I need to get these panties off of you now.” Agreeing, you hook your fingers into the band of your panties, ready to get them off.

“Ah, ah, not like that.” There’s a ghost of a smirk on his face before he lets go of your thighs, fingertips pushing your hands away and replacing them with his before he tears them in half, the soaked material sliding off of your body as you stare at him in shock.

“Jihoon, what th---”

“What? Didn’t think I was capable?” You’re at a loss for words; the sudden change in his demeanor from shy to slightly dominating, intoxicating. “I’m just… wow.” He laughs at your lack of response, gripping your thighs again as he leans back in, his tongue already on your slit as he licks up a stripe from your clit to your entrance. Your hands immediately tangle into his hair, moaning as his tongue laps at your wetness.

You feel like you’re floating on clouds, warm and dreamy while Jihoon eats you out. He hadn’t even used his fingers on you yet, only sliding his tongue through your folds and prodding at your entrance and you were sure you could cum just like this.

“Ngh, Jihoon… Can you… make me cum?”

The male between your legs hums in response before his tongue flicks at your clit, a groan leaving you when he draws harsh circles around the nub. You can feel the pressure in your body cresting as you try to grind down on his waiting tongue.

“Jihoon, I’m---”

When you wake up, Jihoon is still by the window, notebook full of music related jargon as he glances up at you. “Oh hey, I was wondering when you’d wake up. You fell asleep so fast after you laid down, I was gonna ask if you wanted to hear some of the stuff I was working on but you were out like a light.”

Your head is void of any thoughts as you stare blankly into Jihoon’s face; the entire thing had been a dream. A cold sweat coats your body as you sit up, the wetness between your legs insanely real.

“I… yeah, I guess I was tired… I--I didn’t say anything weird in my sleep, did I?”

Jihoon ponders for a moment, lips tilting cutely up into a pout.

“No, I mean, you made some weird little squeaky noises but… that was it. Why? Did you have a weird dream or something?”

“Uh… no, just… wondering.”

Fuck.

#snakehybrid!woozi #woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios

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1-800-roflmao · 3 years

Text

Wash Day Delight Pt. 1

Fandom: Undertale (Video Game)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader

Characters: Papyrus (Undertale), Reader, Original Characters, Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), reader is poc, reader is mixed, Reader has curly hair, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Friendship, Wholesome, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I’m Bad At Summaries, Not Beta Read

*Felt a need to write a fiction about a reader with thick, curly hair. And the Papyri in her life wanting to get their hands in it.

“Girl, you’ve got a lot a hair!” She could feel the corner of her mouth tweak up in amusement beneath her mask. It would not be the first or last time she heard those words. Yet they always brought her amusement, especially considering the move she was about to pull next.

“What if I told you this was only half of it?” she challenged the woman, eyes lighting up mischievously, while her client’s eyes widened only a fraction before narrowing in suspicion. Oh, she loved doing this. Not another word could be uttered before she laid the papers in her hands down neatly against the counter and was digging her fingers gently into her curls. She threw her client a sly wink as she lifted her curls up from her nape and turned her face to the side. An intricate undercut was now fully on display. She had gone with a diamond pattern this time. They laid like neat scales, stretching and repeating from her temple down to her ear, and back to her nape before looping back around. Some were painted with a gold mica for a little accent.

She couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped as she heard the woman’s dramatic gasp. “You weren’t kidding!” She could hear the smile in the older woman’s voice and it warmed her that her antics and hair could bring joy to some. “Oh, I wish I had hair like yours…” She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew how much work this hair was. Plus, her hair had to be finicky to boot. “I’d never cut it! Oh, the things I could do with it!” The novelty would wear off she was sure. A wig would probably be a more practical option. Letting her hair fall back into place, she gently finger combed it and pulled on the ends to help situate it. “Was it..” she lifted a brow at the pause, her fingers releasing a curl and watching as it bounced back into place, hiding it’s true length as it coiled back up. “... oh… hard? Yes, hard to choose to cut it?”

Oh, that was an easy question to answer. “Nope.” The answer was short, but not curt. Her voice warm and her eyes curving with mirth at the other’s disbelieving look. “I’ve had my hair much shorter than this at one point. Actually had it shaved all around for a good bit,” she admitted with a shrug. She was pretty sure her client was pouting under her mask and that made her smile more beneath hers. She finally took this moment to look over the other. She saw nothing wrong with the older woman’s beautifully white hair. It was obviously well taken care of and so long as you weren’t looking for flaws, you couldn’t tell that the senior’s hair was thinning. Effort had been put in, most likely with rollers, layers, and hairspray, to fluff and shape the thin, delicate strands into a soft coif. “Your hair is beautiful as well. I can only hope mine looks as good as yours when I’m your age.” The compliment was just as genuine as it was meant to comfort.

She watched as thin shoulders dropped and the crows feet at the edge of her client’s eyes eased. “You’re too kind,” the old woman tittered. Hands just as thin with joints a little swollen from arthritis lifted to bashfully touch her hair.

“A friend of mine says one can never be too kind, Mrs…” the young woman rebuked lightly while letting her voice drift off towards the end, fishing for a name.

“Mrs. Ida Thomas,” the elder filled in, smile reaching her eyes. Those eyes dipped down to look for a name tag, but found it missing. Her eyes darted back up, flustered, after hearing a little chuckle from the young woman across the counter. She was spared any more embarrassment as the other provided her name with a hand outstretched over the desk, palm open and fingers gently splayed. Her darker skin tone stood out against Mrs. Ida’s nearly translucent hue as they shook.

“Now, Mrs. Thomas, why don’t we get back to why you initially came in here?” she prompted, releasing the other’s hand and picking up the papers she had put down earlier. It was back to business after those words as she lead the consultation.

It would be nearly two hours later before she would finally be showing Mrs. Ida out politely. The two had gotten off topic again, but the tinkling of the little bell from above the front door of her office broke through their conversation. If that hadn’t done it, the cheerful and unmistakably loud call of her name in a familiar voice through the small space would have certainly done it. She smothered a chuckle as Mrs. Ida lightly jumped in her seat at the volume and suddenness. “That would be my friend, Papyrus,” she stated like it provided all the answers needed.

Mrs. Ida only nodded, currently turned in her seat with a curious gaze locked on the doorway. They could hear sure steps getting closer and closer as he marched his way to the inner sanctum. “He is quite… enthusiastic,” the older woman carefully chose her words and the younger held back a snort in response. Oh, she had no idea. She counted the seconds down in her head before finally the door to her private office was thrown open and the towering figure of the monster skeleton stepped inside with a flourish and yet another loud call of her nickname. She was sure if he was wearing his battle armor that the little cape on it would have been blowing in the nonexistent wind. How this monster managed to break physics always astounded her. Instead, he was dressed in blue training shorts and a loose pastel sweater over top his usual black tights that clung to his bones. On his feet were thankfully a pair of bright red trainers, rather than his fire engine red boots. Atleast they matched the just as bright red gloves.

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS HERE TO FULFILL HIS DUTIES AS THE GREATEST FRIE-” his monologue broke off as he finally took in the additional, apparently unexpected occupant of the office. “OH!” he jolted, empty sockets widening comically before he gathered himself and cleared his nonexistent throat, “Oh.” His volume dipped to what could be considered an “inside voice” considerately. The poor old woman had at first been in awe at the tall skeleton monster, but that awe had been replaced with a strained expression at the booming voice bouncing and filling the small space. The young woman was sure the skeleton had noticed and being the sweetheart he is, he had lowered his voice for the old woman’s comfort.

Before the moment of silence could stretch into something awkward, she gently tapped a nail on her desktop and then pushed herself to stand with one palm pressed flat to the smooth wood. With her other hand, she waved to the skeleton monster, “Papi-rus,” she greeted, having to stop herself from saying his nickname at the moment. She pouted under her mask as she noticed the little quirk to his teeth that gave away he was very much aware of her slip. She powered on and nodded her head to her client, “I was just finishing with Ms. Ida here,” she informed, introducing the two at the same time.

Ms. Ida seemed at a loss for words as Papyrus bounced back with a gloved hand thrust forward enthusiastically for a handshake. “Consider Yourself Lucky To Have Met THE GREAT PAPYRUS This Day, Hu- MRS. IDA!” She held in an inelegant snort at her friend’s efforts to keep his volume under control. Bless him. And bless Mrs. Ida who seemed even more starstruck, but thankfully had recovered just enough to lift a hand and take his. The old woman was now blinking at their hands as the skeleton’s much larger one gently gripped hers and was soon joined his other, sandwiching hers. She still hadn’t said a word and it took the young woman finally releasing a giggle to knock her out her stupor.

“Oh, goodness me! I have been so rude,” Mrs. Ida gasped, eyes lifting to look up at the skeleton who had leaned down with a concerned tilt to his teeth and scrunch to his surprisingly malleable eye sockets. “And I’ve worried you, I apologize, sweetie,” she went to hide behind her free hand, but seemed to think better of it and instead patted his hands that were still gripped around one of her own.

“Nyeh Heh Heh! It Is Quite Alright.” Papyrus’s words, but mostly his genuine laughter as his features brightened up seemed to melt the tension from the elder. “Afterall, That Sort of Reaction Is Expected-” the younger watched her client blink as the skeleton monster struck a pose. He stood tall, head held high, and one hand pressed to his purposely puffed chest with fingers splayed dramatically. His expression couldn’t look more smug and proud… then again, this was Papyrus. He could find a way and considering she had met some of his cousins, she knew it was possible. “-When One Meets A Skeleton As Cool As I Am! Wink!”

She could see her client’s eyes crinkling as she was undoubtedly smiling under her mask up at the monster. If it wouldn’t ruin the moment, she’d have taken a picture of the wholesome moment for memories. Instead, she gently tapped at her phone’s screen and it illuminated, displaying the time. Eyes widening briefly, she glanced up at the clock on the wall as well before sparing a glance out the window. The sun was not visible, but the world wasn’t quite dark yet. It was the cool colors of twilight that dominated the world outside. “It’s later than I realized,” she commented, mostly to herself, but the other two occupants still heard her and broke from their idle chatter.

Mrs. Ida peeked out the window as well before looking at her own wrist watch with a chuckle. Papyrus nodded in affirmation with arms crossed, not bothering to look outside or look to any clock. No, his focus was acutely on the youngest human in the room. Though his sockets lacked any eyelights, she could feel his gaze on her as those sockets narrowed. Leave it to Papyrus to scold her without saying a word; though she’s sure he’s practically vibrating in his metaphorical boots to lecture her. The reason he did not expect any guests in her office was because she should have been closing up a good hour ago and been ready to go by the time he stepped through her door. He was always punctual and most times early.

Subconsciously, she twirled and pinched a curl at the nape of her neck as she looked away guiltily to the oh so interesting texture of the wood floors.

Mrs. Ida giggled at the silent exchange. Just what had she interrupted? Had they had a date planned? As amusing and precious as it was to watch the two, she would take pity on the girl. A smirk curved her lips under her mask as she decided to help the young agent out. She released a dramatic sigh before looking over and up to Papyrus. “Mind giving an old woman a hand? These joints of mine get stiff when I’ve idled too long,” she beckoned with an outstretched hand. It worked like a charm as the skeleton’s attention was immediately focused on the old woman. Once again, her hand was swamped in his gloved digits and with surprising care for someone so boisterous, he helped her stand.

“Stiff Joints Are Never Fun. I Would Know!” he joked, beaming as he earned yet another soft titter from the frail looking human before him. She looked so small and her hand, it felt… fragile. Like if he gripped too hard or moved too harshly, she would break. He offered his other hand for her to grip as well as she straightened up and steadied herself.

“I’m sure you do,” Mrs. Ida playfully replied. Her eyes moved back to the young woman who had finally left from behind her desk and now stood before the duo. “I’m sorry about taking up all your time like this,” she dipped her head to the young woman who quickly responded with raised palms and a shake of her head.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mrs. Ida,” she assured. “It’s not your fault you make such good company,” she complimented, a teasing lilt to her voice as her eyes crinkled due to her hidden smile.

The old woman hushed the younger with feigned embarrassment. “Flatterer,” she accused lightly and didn’t bother to hide an unlady-like snort as her agent just wiggled her eyebrows in response.

Papyrus hummed as he listened to the exchange. He spared an anxious glance out the window and resisted tapping his toes in impatience. Not that he didn’t enjoy meeting new people--new potential friends--, he simply wished to spend time with his already established friend for their usual outing. “I Feel I Need To Remind You Two Of What Time it Is.” The statement did not have the intended affect as the two women simply laughed after a small lull to stare up at him. “NYEH!” His little burst seemed to only make their mirth worse, “THIS IS SERIOUS. WE HAVE PRIOR ARRANGEMENTS TO GET TO!” he was pouting and he knew it, but another glance at the clock and his sockets were narrowing as he leveled an accusing glare on his human friend. “CORRECTION! WE SHOULD ALREADY BE THERE!”

Mrs. Ida was thankful for the serotonin these two had blessed her with this evening as even the skeleton’s loss of volume control couldn’t bring her down at this point. “You two are just adorable!” she was practically cooing. After taking a deep breath in and slowly releasing, she felt the giggles dissipate. “Apologies, Papyrus, Dear, but it’s a southern thing.”

A beat of silence, then. “WHAT DOES A CARDINAL DIRECTION HAVE TO DO WITH THIS?” Yet another snort left the woman and she had to bring a hand up to hover in front of her masked mouth to suppress another bout of laughter.

Fighting her own battle against a bout of giggles, the young woman managed to speak up. “She’s referring to a geographical region, Papyrus,” she clarified, “It’s a running joke that southerners don’t know how to say goodbye since they take forever to part ways.” Both women watched the monster take in the information and sighing as he nodded firmly, indicating he understood. Not a moment later they were jumping as he straightened up, one hand on his hip, and the other pointing to his roof before swinging down. Once his hand stopped, the humans found themselves staring down his finger as the skeleton somehow managed to aim an even toothier grin at them.

“AS THE ONLY ONE HERE NOT A ‘SOUTHERNER,’ ALLOW ME TO BESTOW ON YOU HUMANS THE MOST EFFICIENT WAYS TO SAY GOODBYE!” Papyrus declared, his tone exuberant, but unable to completely mask the sassy, sly lilt from his friend. Mrs. Ida, though, was none the wiser and just found the whole idea of being taught how to say goodbye entertaining. She nodded, agreeing to play along. “PERFECT! STEP ONE! LOOK AT EACH OTHER.” The two human women humored him as they made eye contact. Mrs. Ida gave the young woman an admonishing look as she wiggled those brows again. Thankfully, their teacher did not notice, or maybe he was just ignoring their antics. “GOOD! NOW, STEP TWO. REPEAT AFTER ME: GOOD NIGHT!”

It was such an abrupt order that both women just blinked in disbelief. The younger recovered first with a meager shake of her head and a giggle, “Good night, Mrs. Ida!” With a little nod to her client, the old woman replied with a just as enthusiastic farewell.

Papyrus nodded in approval with only a small narrowing of his eye sockets at the two as they giggled. “FINAL STEP: PART WAYS!” he stated with a flourished wave of his hand to the doorway. A tap on his arm brought his attention back to his friend who was gesturing for him to bend down. He did so with minimal complaint, but only completely quit his grumping as she set a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his metaphorical ear.

Mrs. Ida had only glanced at the doorway and just barely gotten to take a step before she was jumping in place as a loud gasp filled the room. Before she could question what had happened, she felt as if she was floating for a moment as she was quite literally swept off her feet and into Papyrus’s arms. She couldn’t have been more thankful for the mask mandate as it hid most of her quickly reddening face. She hadn’t been held in years, much less lifted so effortlessly. She was too stunned and flustered to utter any sort of protest.

“Sorry about that, ma’am, but with it getting dark outside, it would ease my mind if you allowed Papyrus to escort you to your car?” The old woman simply blinked at her junior and then up at the lad who currently had her suspended. Escorting was one thing, but to be carried?

“AND I FELT IN MY INFINITE WISDOM, IT WOULD BE MOST EFFICIENT IF I CARRIED YOU,” the skeleton interjected, reminding her that he had been aiming to teach them “efficient goodbyes.” “YOU ALSO STATED EARLIER THAT YOUR JOINTS GET STIFF. THIS WAY YOU DON’T HAVE TO STRAIN!” he added, proud and eager, “NO WORRIES ABOUT ME. MY BONES AND JOINTS ARE IN TIP TOP SHAPE! AND YOU, HUMAN IDA, ARE NO CHALLENGE TO HOLD!”

The elder just nodded along. “You were right, I was pretty lucky to meet you today,” she recalled his introduction fondly. With a final wave goodbye and short parting words, Mrs. Ida found herself being swept out the room, through a short hall, small waiting area, and finally out the front door.

That tinkling of a bell signaling to the young woman currently straightening her office and filing away papers that her client was gone and she now had until Papyrus got back to finish up.

Papyrus eased his impatience by thinking of his current task as training. A very easy warm up. A very unexpected, unplanned warm up. The elderly human’s… Mrs. Ida’s weight in his arms was no challenge; and despite the buzz in limbs begging him to move faster, the memory of her frail hands and aching bones helped keep him grounded. He settled into a steady, swift pace. His long legs covering plenty of ground with each step.

At first, the two had been chatting idly and he had been quick to get her to point out where she had parked. It was alarming to learn she had not parked anywhere and he had been confused until she mentioned she had “caught” a cab. Her little giggle as she took the time to explain what she meant and that she had not literally CAUGHT a cab. He admits he is still figuring out humans’ rather creative use of words or language. She’d even taken the time to explain “euphemisms” to him as he brought her to the nearest bus stop after a quick google to check the schedule and location.

“EUPHEMISMS SEEM LIKE SOMETHING MY BROTHER WOULD ENJOY,” he had commented. Mentally, he added on that his brother would probably catch on to them easier as well. Sans, along a couple of his “cousins,” was a walking dictionary, considering his preference for crossword puzzles. Maybe his puns would improve in cleverness if he introduced him to the world of euphemisms. One could only hope. Thankfully, he had plenty of that. The conversation had continued, easy and casual, until finally the bus stop came into view and the bus just rolling up.

Papyrus picked up his pace just a bit and secured his grip on his passenger. Mrs. Ida managed to loose an arm to wave as both called to the driver to wait up. The bus remained idle thankfully and once they slowed to a stop before the door, it slid open to a rather plump man sitting in the driver’s seat who simply tipped his hat to them. “Lucky I saw you two in the rear view,” his words brought forth yet another little giggle for the old woman.

“Today is just my lucky day, it seems!” she boasted, tapping Papyrus’s shoulder as he eased her onto her own feet. The driver had gotten up and stood on the steps, hand held out to help his elder up the steps.

“Goodness, all of you are going to have me spoiled by time I get home,” she teased, taking the young man’s hand and letting him guide her up onto the step. She could feel Papyrus kept a steadying hand at her back. What a sweet gentle monster.

“Oh! Before I forget,” she chirped and turned to look over her shoulder at the skeleton. Said skeleton didn’t bother hiding his widening smile as she still had to look up at him despite her standing on the top step at this point. She had simply huffed and set a hand on her hip, “Go easy on her, big guy.” If he had eyebrows, one would have been raised at her warning tone. Before he could even part his teeth to ask her to elaborate, she was speaking again, “Unless that’s what you two are into.” If his tongue was summoned, he’d be choking on it. The driver was doing so for him as he could hear the portly human coughing and beating at his chest. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Papyrus,” she finished with a wink and her tone was so cheeky, even his dense skull knew what she was implying.

It wasn’t until the doors of the bus had closed that he could practically feel his skull burning with excess magic summoned to surface in his embarrassment. He buried his face in his hands, trying his best to muffle his flustered screech. It didn’t do much. As streets down, some poor soul was wondering if they had left their tea kettle on.

#mrs ida stole the show #she ships it #curly haired reader #thick hair #this part was mostly a warm up #meat/plot is next #papyrus #papyrus x y/n #papyrus x self insert #papyrus x reader #poc reader #skin color is only mentioned once #but feel the need to tag it despite it being vague #mrs ida is just pale #papyrus is a golden retriever #a sassy one though #fanfic #fanfiction #undertale

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anothers-trash-my-treasure · 4 years

Text

The Mistress.

Summary: Combining Kinktober days 25 (Caught getting off) and 26 (overstimulation) with Fictober day 27 “Give me that.”. Very very very heavily inspired by @edteche2 ‘s “The Master” series so please please please go read those if you haven’t already, they are phenomenal!

I’ve titled it The Mistress because the original definition of “Mistress” is female expert. I know usually mistress is used as a term for another woman but just forget that for a second, okay? Okay.

Pairing: Josh Washington / Reader

Rating/Warnings: ohhhh smutty asf baby. Use of sex toys.

Words: 2000

Tag List. @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @the-almond-dinger @gloriousdarkangelsworld @yousaycoke-isaycaine

Ever since Josh introduced his bundle of toys into your sex life, to say things have gotten interesting was an understatement. The amount of times he came over to your place unannounced, using his key to get in and walking in on you in some pretty compromising situations was honestly ridiculous. It was like he knew when you were using them. And every time he caught you with them, he’d always just sit back and watch. He liked knowing he introduced you to this new world of pleasure. Whereas some guys may have been intimidated by the toys, afraid that they did a better job than they would, he was confident in his ability to make you scream louder than the silicon and batteries could.

And you knew it too. As soon as he made his presence known, your body craved him. It drove you crazy. He’d just sit there, next to you on the bed. Whispering dirty encouragement in your ear.

“C’mon princess. Let me see how good you can make yourself feel.”

“You can have me later baby, just let me watch you. Look so pretty like this.”

“I know you’re close, be a good girl and cum for me.”

It was truly never a dull moment with Josh. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. But what bothered you, only a little, was how you never walked in on him taking any time for himself. It made you feel a little bad. Were you a bad girlfriend for taking matters into your own hand from time to time? You knew some girls who thought masturbating was a form of cheating. You knew Josh didn’t mind, but part of you wondered if it did bother him a little. And if he wasn’t taking matters into his own hand, were you denying him pleasure by taking care of yourself?

It got to the point where you were determined to catch him red handed. You wanted to see him, flushed and sweaty under his own hand. Imagining it was one thing, you wanted to see it. He always got so hot and bothered seeing you that way, you wanted to be on the other side of it. But every time you went over, unannounced, he was always just playing video games or cleaning up after making lunch, or something just so mundane and anti-climatic. You were starting to lose hope. Until...

You had initially gone over to surprise him with his favorite dessert you had gotten while out on a ‘girls night’ dinner with some friends. You unlocked his apartment door and let yourself in, expecting to see his head of curls sitting in front of the TV, but he wasn’t there.

“Josh?” you called out, “You home?”

You placed the dessert in the fridge and stood, listening carefully for maybe the sound of the shower running or footsteps coming down the hallway. But the only thing you heard was a soft moan. It was so quiet that at first, you thought you had imagined it. But then a second one sounded, much louder, and you felt your entire body flush with heat.

Was this it?

You crept down the hallway, as quietly as you could, down to his room, where the door was opened only a crack. You peaked your head in, pushing the door open just a fraction more to see into the room better. And boy, was the sight even better than you thought it’d be.

There he was, in all his glory, naked, chest glistening with sweat, accenting his strained muscles. Your eyes travelled down his body, seeing his legs spread open while he worked The Blue Lagoon over his cock over and over. His movements are languid, not too fast or too slow. His hips roll up into the toy as his hand twists the sleeve on each stroke. His eyebrows draw in, a low whining moan leaving his lips. The scene before you is so hot, your thighs squeeze instinctively at the sight, trying to provide yourself some pleasure.

His eyes flutter open and his body freezes for a second when he sees you.

“Jesus-” he startles, head rolling back on a sigh when he realizes it’s just you, “Scared the shit out of me.”

He goes to move his hand away from himself, obviously assuming that since you’re here he gets to fuck you instead of the sleeve. You shake your head, entering the room fully and walking over to him.

“Wait, don’t stop.”

He looks at you, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Let me watch for a bit.”

His face flickers through a range of emotions; confusion, surprise, arousal and then landing on smug. He smirks at you, hand moving back to the toy and continuing his previous movements.

“Yeah, I bet you like seeing me like this.” he taunts, cocky and Josh-like in every sense of the word, “Perv.”

The desire to knock the smirk right off his face bubbles up inside of you and smile sweetly back at him, a plan forming quickly in your mind.

“You just look so good like this, baby.” you coo, settling yourself down next to him on your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows and letting your fingers dance over his biceps, “How could I not wanna watch?”

He hums, eyes slipping shut as he starts to lose himself in the pleasure again.

“Tell me how it feels.” you say softly, carefully taking control of the situation without him noticing.

“Feels good.” he moans, biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes find yours again, “Not as good as you though.”

You hum thoughtfully, placing a kiss on his shoulder, “You can have me later,” you say, stealing his lines, “Make yourself feel good for me, yeah?”

He groans, head falling back and eyes slipping shut again. You watch him, drinking in every twitch of his muscles and every moan that leaves his lips. His cheeks are flushed red, hair sweaty at his temples and panting at the tightness around his cock. He’s gorgeous like this. You let him work himself over for a bit, watching as his movements get faster as he approaches climax.

“You gettin’ close baby?” you ask, low and sultry in his ear.

“Yeah,” he breathes, breath hitching when you nibble on his earlobe. His hips twitch and his breath stutters and you know he’ll be done for if you don’t stop him. You hold your hand out, stopping him and making a ‘give me’ motion.

“Give me that.”

His movements stop and he looks at you, wide eyes and panting, “What?” his voice is high with disbelief.

“Give me it.” you repeat, eyebrows raised expectantly, “I’m not done with you yet.”

You can see how much it pains him to remove himself from the sleeve. His cock red angry and beautiful. He watches you intently as he hands the toy over, pupils blown wide, his breathing starting to settle.

“Good boy,” you purr, capturing his lips for the first time in a sweet kiss. When you pull away he tries to follow, you stop him with a hand to his chest and smile. You have him right where you want him.

“Just lay back,” you encourage, “I got you, babe.”

You start kissing down his body. Starting first at his jaw, working your way down his neck and chest. You stop at the juncture between his shoulder and neck, sucking a mark there. You move further down, biting at one of his nipples briefly, enjoying the soft moan he lets out at the feeling. You smile against his skin, continuing your ministrations until you reach the base of his cock.

You glance up at him from your spot between his legs. He’s barely keeping it together, his eyes bounce back and forth from your eyes to your lips, which are just barely brushing against the tip of him. He’s anticipating your every move, desperate to finish.

You lick a broad stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him in deep. Your quick movements punch a groan out of his throat and he arches his hips into your wet heat. You know by the desperate twinge in his voice that it won’t take long to get him back on the edge. You work him carefully, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you slowly pull your mouth back.

“Oh, baby,” he whines, hand tangling in your hair, “‘m gonna cum.”

You pull off of him, giggling at the face of betrayal he makes at you when you crawl back up his body, “Not so fun, is it?” You tease.

“Babe-” He tries.

“You do this to me all the time, it’s only fair that I repay the favor.”

“No, baby please,” he grips your arms tightly, pulling your closer and kissing you hard, “I’ve already edged myself like three times, I need to finish.”

The new information spreads a wave of heat through you, “Oh,” you say, absolutely delighted, “No wonder you’re so sensitive.”

Your finger trails up his length and you watch with wonder as it twitches and flexes along with a desperate whine from his lips, proving your point brilliantly.

“You need it, huh?” You ask, keeping your touch feather light.

His hips flex into your touch, trying to get more friction than you’re able to give him at the moment. He whines in response and you know you have to take pity on him. He just looks way too good like this to torture him any further.

“How do you want to finish?”

“In your mouth.” he answers immediately, eyes locked on your lips, still glistening from your previous ministrations on him.

You place a kiss on him lips, agreeing to the terms before you resume your position between his thighs. You don’t prolong the experience, taking him deep into your mouth and watching with alive eyes as he arches under your mouth.

“Oh, Yesss,” he groans, his hand finding its place in your hair again. You let him guide your movements, letting him show you exactly what he needs. He’s gasping and you can feel the desperation radiating off of him in waves. He needs this so bad. And you know just what to do to help him along.

You pull back, just barely scraping your teeth on the upstroke before taking a breath and taking him deep into your throat. You hold him there, letting him feel your throat work around him as you choke on it.

“Fuck!” he shouts, spilling down your throat. You pull back just a bit, letting him fuck your throat through his orgasm, working hard to swallow everything he gives you.

When he pulls you off his cock he’s breathing hard and you sit back to take him in. His softening dick glistening with your spit, cum dripping off the top of it, remnants of what you missed. You can see the muscles in his thigh quiver slightly and you feel a sense of pride roll through you. The amount of times he’d made you quiver like that, it was about time you seen it happen for yourself.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, pulling you close to him so he can kiss you, slow, deep and dirty, “You’re perfect.”

You chuckle against his lips, stealing one last kiss from his lips before sitting up, “You think I’m perfect now, just wait until you see what I put in the fridge for you.”

His eyes widen and he props himself up on his elbows, uncaring that his now soft cock is just out in the open, cum cooling on his skin, “Triple Chocolate Fudge cake with Oreo crumble?”

You nod, barely humming in affirmation before he’s flinging himself out of bed, trying to put his sweatpants on as he runs out the door of his bedroom. You hear him yell a few moments later from the kitchen, mouth full of chocolatey goodness;

“You’re perfect!”

#fictober20 #Kinktober #josh washington #josh washington/reader #joshua washington #josh washington x female reader #josh smut #josh washington smut

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amethystpath-writes · 3 years

Note

If you have the time and motivation for this, would you mind writing about the hero finding out the villain has been dating his sister? And the sister has no idea but the villain is like taunting the hero with public displays of attention and gushy romance things. The hero can’t do anything bc he thinks the villain will hurt the sister if he says anything about it. You can decide whether the villain actually loves the sister or not :)

I have been excited about this idea since I read it. Thank you, nonny!

******

Pulling up to the curb, Sister pushed the door open. How long ago did she unbuckle? Hero wondered. He hated how- how…uncaring she was. It wasn’t so much about her hurting other people with her carelessness as it was about her hurting herself. Hero loved Sister, which meant he hated to see the path she was taking. She was going to get herself killed, maybe not by going on dates, but with all her other tendencies; things like getting into car crashes at sixteen, going to skateparks in the middle of the night, and the general rebellious thing she had going on. Hero wish she could understand that the reason he was so overbearing was because their parents weren’t at all. And he wasn’t a helicopter brother; he just wanted her to be safe.

Hero turned the key counter clockwise and pulled it out, before getting out of the car himself. Now was the moment he’d evaluate Sister’s boyfriend. Yes, evaluate. If the guy Sister was dating was some jerk or something right off the bat, Hero would make him leave. He’d- uh- puff his chest and…and do the intimidating stuff.

Truth be told, Hero didn’t know how to come off as intimidating without using his abilities, but no one knew about those, and no on could know. He had watched too many movies of people with weird powers being taken and experimented on or tortured or other terrible things. It’s why he and Villain took things to rooftops, or otherwise amidst destruction where they couldn’t be seen. But that wasn’t the point! The point was that Hero was about to meet the person his sister was spending so much time with.

Sister was running up to one of the tables of the small ice cream bar, and when she got there- or to the person there- she wrapped their arms around a man, and as he looked up, Hero felt his whole body freeze. He felt his hands shake as the man- Villain- dragged a hand up and down Sister’s back, taunting Hero because he knew the shock it would cause.

It was Villain. Villain was coddling Hero’s sister right in front of him, and he even made eye contact while doing it.

After a few more frozen moments, Hero took one- two- steps forward. Villain watched, not ceasing his teases. At one point he even full on glared at Hero, stopping him in his tracks. Hero didn’t know what to do but to remain where he was and watch. He nearly spoke, opening his mouth to break it up, to get Sister away, but one flick of Villain’s hand on her neck stopped him.

The two kissed, not too awfully long- certainly not a make out session, but it was too long to be considered a peck.

“Oh.” Villain’s gaze caught Hero’s again, and he smiled. “This must be the brother you have mentioned a time or twice.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” She gave a small laugh, adjusting her shirt, as it’d become somewhat crooked, and turning to face her brother while still standing beside her boyfriend- who now slid a hand behind her before settling it on her waist opposite of his own side.

Hero swallowed. Should he talk? Initiate the conversation? But with that hand on his sister’s hip…it was a threat. Villain could take off with her any second.

Or maybe he just loved Sister.

No. No, of course he doesn’t love Sister. That was a ridiculous idea and Hero couldn’t believe he even thought of it for a second.

“You never said he was mute.”

Still not knowing whether to speak or not, Hero only took very slow and deliberate steps forward toward the- the couple, if you could even call them that. “When do I need to pick you up?”

Sister’s face scrunched up. “What? You suddenly don’t want the cone and taco you made me promise to buy you before you left?” She laughed and crossed her left arm over her chest so that she could place her hand on Villain’s shoulder. “You don’t approve.”

She thought it was because Villain was wearing raggy clothing, a shirt with purposefully torn holes and bleached pants. No. That wasn’t the problem at all. Someone who looked as Villain did now was exactly Sister’s type, and they weren’t all shitty people. It just so happened to be that this one was. And this wasn’t the clothing Villain typically wore either. It was a lie, a façade, to lure Sister in. It worked.

Villain’s hand began to draw circles on Sister’s side. Hero had to take a deep breath. Another warning, or threat, or whatever you wanted to call it, to Hero to say the right thing, to play a role in the act. “I didn’t say that,” he settled for. Easy, simple, neutral.

“Your face is saying that,” Villain said. Hero could have sworn Villain held up a one with his fingers for a moment. He felt his heart thundering in his chest.

“Why don’t we all order our food and sit down, hm? Clear the air up a bit.”

It wasn’t a request or a suggestion. It was a demand.

Hero didn’t realize his jaw was clenched until he opened it to speak as he walked toward them at a proper talking distance. He kept his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were fisted. “Right. Not a problem at all. Sister, I’ll order for you. What do you want?”

She looked up at him, then Villain.

“I told her I’d pay, but if you’d like to go order for yourself with me, then that’s fine. Maybe we can get to know one another a little more. Do you want to pick a table for us, mi amore?”

Wordless, Sister left to do as Villain suggested. Now it was just Hero and Villain standing out in the wide open.

Villain was the first to begin walking to the order line. Hero followed two steps behind, too nervous to be any closer. He didn’t think Villain was stupid enough to act out here, but it was hard telling- especially if he was apparently willing to date Sister. Hero still couldn’t believe it. The denial would have been stronger if Villain hadn’t been actively cluing threats.

“I have really rendered you speechless, haven’t I?”

Hero said nothing.

“Go on, say something. Do you think I plan to rip out your tongue?”

No. I think you might snap my sister’s neck. “What are you doing?”

Villain gave a small chuckle. “Did you ever consider that maybe I just like your sister and that’s why I asked her on a date today?”

“I considered it, then found it unlikely.”

He hummed. “Well, you’re right. I don’t despise her, but I would have no interest in her if it didn’t dig under your skin. It’s funny, the way you find me to be so threatening. A touch on her wrist makes you think I’ll break it. A touch on her neck, and you think I’ll dig my teeth into her throat as if I were a vampire and she my prey. What else, hero?”

“You would do all of those things.” Straight to the point.

“Is that what you think?” Villain smiled, stepping forward in the line now that some kid finally decided to order three scoops of various ice creams with sprinkles and syrup on top- no cherry though. “Perhaps. That only means you should continue to tread carefully. I’d hate for you to twist an ankle.”

Hero was becoming more frustrated than worried now. What was the point in all of this? The only thing Hero could come up with was that this was Villain’s form of a punishment…for looking for him, Hero assumed. But why was that such a big deal? Maybe Villain was up to something and needed Hero off his back; dating his sister and threatening her nearly every moment was the solution, and it was somewhat effective.

Silence followed through the rest of the line until they made it to ordering. “You used to buy her the toppings options,” Villain said to Hero before looking back to the person taking his order. “Add some rainbow sprinkles on top.” Having finished the order, Villain handed over a twenty- Did he just hold up a two with his other hand? - and told the worker to keep the change- all five dollars and thirty-six cents. Turning back to Hero, he began again. “She misses those times- when you actually tried to spend time with her.”

Gritting his teeth, Hero said nothing. Villain knew the reason he didn’t talk to his sister- or any of his family. Hero was busy looking for wherever Villain was hiding out when he wasn’t going into cities and attacking people from above.

They waited for their orders after Hero paid for his, and as they did this, Villain spoke up again, “You’re thinking about what to do in this scenario.”

“I’m not thinking about much of anything actually.”

Villain hummed. “I would be head over my heels in thought. I must have really boggled you up there.”

Hero said nothing. There was nothing to do.

Bringing the food and ice cream back, the date went as any would- with the exception that Hero was now a part of the date. It was originally meant to only be Sister and whoever her boyfriend was- which as Hero knew now, was Villain.

They all chatted like good friends, and Hero was warned subtly a few times to watch his displeased facial expressions. The unhappy expression usually only happened when Villain would hold Sister’s hand and all Hero could think was, He’s going to crush her bones. He’s capable of it. One squeeze is all it’d take. They also frequented when Villain put an arm around his sister’s shoulders, draping a hand almost carelessly. Again, Hero’s thoughts would get the best of him. Fingernails in her arm, river of blood. What did he think Villain was exactly, Hero wasn’t even sure, but evil was an easy way to define him.

Sure, they both had abilities, but only Villain was sadistic enough to ever use them against people powerless and defenseless against it. He never did it where he could be seen, but- well, Villain was unpredictable, wasn’t he? Hero certainly never expected the guy to start dating his sister. It was possible he really would hurt Sister in public.

“Hero, what did you say you do for work again?”

He swallowed. Hero could out Villain right now, just say it in the next moment and no one would expect it. And it was outlandish enough that it would be surprisingly unquestionable. Some things you just couldn’t lie about. It wouldn’t even need thought, though, because Villain would deliberately prove it…by concussing Sister with a tiny flick.

“I work with the Containment Justice Department in town.” This was what Hero told everyone, mostly his family. It wasn’t so difficult to lie about anymore, except that now Villain was smiling with the brightest beam of amusement.

Containment Justice Department, Hero could hear Villain mocking him.

“Interesting. I thought you had to graduate from some police academy or something to do that.”

“I excelled.”

“Right. Sister said you dropped out of high school. Suppose that’s why I never saw you in the halls.”

Villain tucked a piece of hair behind Sister’s ears then brought his lips to her cheek. She smiled and pushed him away playfully. Hero held his breath.

What could Villain possibly do with a kiss? What deadly thing could come out of that? His creativity was shrunken at this point, exhausted. This had been such a long day, and the sun was setting. Hero was stressed beyond relief, he felt.

“How long have you two been together?”

Sister opened her mouth to answer, but Villain beat her to the punch, his lips still on her skin. “Next week will be a year.” He put a hand on her chin after drawing his own head back just barely to make room for movement, then dragged her head to him until their lips were almost touching. “Isn’t that right, mi amore?”

A blush rose in her cheeks before he kissed her, and this time it was longer than when she and Hero first arrived.

“Right, well it was nice to meet you. Sister, we should go before it gets dark.”

“Um, I was actually…” Sister began, but trailed off.

“I’ll bring her home later tomorrow.”

“We should go home now. It’s dangerous out at night.” Hero added, “Not just for her sake, but yours.” Hero only included this for two reasons: (1) Villain would have silently scolded Hero, threatened him- or his sister, he supposed- for not wishing good will for Villain, and (2) because Hero needed his sister to agree with him, to want Villain to go home so that he was safe since they were a couple and couples cared for one another.

“My house is well lit. I think we’ll be okay. But I do hate to drive at night. Astigmatisms,” Villain said, “nasty things. Are you ready to go, mi amore?”

She nodded, and Hero didn’t know what to do as she began to stand. Sister couldn’t go to Villain’s home; she might never come back. What if he killed her? Hero didn’t know where he lived, and that meant there would be no rescue. He had to stop this now. But he couldn’t. Because if he tried to, Villain would act out now, and he’d probably find a way to make it Hero’s fault.

“You win, okay?” Hero rushed out as the distance between he and Sister and Villain grew. “You’ve- uh- been there for my sister when I couldn’t be. You are a…” Hero grimaced. “You’re a good guy.”

Villain licked his lip before dragging it in with his teeth, then looking at Sister with only his eyes- no tilting of the head, no action Sister could see.

“Thank you for taking care of her. Drive safely.”

And that was all Hero could do to ensure any amount of safety; admit defeat. Admit the Villain one, and maybe he would ease up, maybe he would break the tie he made with Sister, let her be free, even though she didn’t know she was caught to begin with.

“Will do.” Villain tossed a hand in the air- a careless goodbye.

Hero felt his heart drop. What did the carelessness mean- if anything at all? There was nothing he could do about it anyways. Villain won. Hero could only hope- maybe even pray- that Villain would show mercy. Until then, Hero hopped in his car, and before he took off, he turned the ringer on on his phone. It was the least he could do. If Sister was in trouble, maybe she would text or call him, and he would be there in a heartbeat after she told Hero Villain’s add- That’s it!

Hero opened the messaging on his phone and clicked on Sister’s name. ‘What’s his address? Just in case something happens.’ he typed and hit send.

Not a moment later, Hero received a text back from Sister, reading, ‘Seriously? How dunce are you?’

Another message as Hero began typing. ‘That’s three.’ it read. Hero squinted his eyes, looking up at the brake lights in front of him. A hand was stuck out of the driver side window. Three fingers were held out. And then? The car in front of Hero surged forward, wheels squealing with the highest screech he ever heard.

“No!” Hero fumbled with his keys, trying hard- maybe too hard- to put in it the ignition slot. “No, no, no.” He glanced up and down, watching as Villain’s car sped off until it turned out of sight. “Dammit!” Finally, the key slid in, and Hero started the car, speeding off just the same as Villain did just two minutes ago, but by the time he turned on the street Villain had, the car was gone, his sister with it.

******

Requested Part 2 here

#request fill #hero x villain #hero x villain story #cursing cw #there's not too many but enough to give warning :)#I ended up cutting out an entire paragraph at the beginning though #wasn't too necessary to have in the story and it made longer than it already was haha #much love! Xx Dee

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happikattwuzheere · 4 years

Photo

was gonna try and do multiple characters in one post but nope! i have too much to say. also the pictures are all different sizes so its rly hard to get the photoset to look appealing, so we’re starting w/ blue. and also a colored pic of what adam looks like when he’s not a deer. boy’s tryin not to stand out. which goes great up for him right up until it doesn’t. lmao. i’ll talk a bit about him too w/ stuff that didnt get mentioned in the starter post about him and gansey, but this is mostly gonna be about blue.

SO.

there’s this fey entity, right? i don’t have a name for them, but they’re not...they didnt START the fey/human conflict, but they are benefiting from it, politically speaking? and when maura was younger, despite other witches being like “girl dont choose sides, we’re witches, we guard boundaries but we don’t choose sides,” was hotheaded and brash and went “ok but fuck that though” and one thing led to another and she ended up getting a curse on her firstborn. Oops. that’s where the kissing curse comes from, here; i’ll get into that much later in a text post probably but gansey’s survivor’s guilt thing doesnt come from him actually dying in this au it’s from something Else, but blue will still kill him if she kisses him, just, for different reasons, it’s an actual curse this time and not something to do with the nature of who they both are.

her father’s still a tree light, but like, she actually knows that from the outset? because. they live in cabeswater. the tree lights are all around and accept her as one of their own even if she can’t turn into a tree, and as a result of that, she’s got some cool perks.

a) extremely resistant and/or outright immune to a Lot of fey bullshit

b) still boosts psychic energies and magical powers like in canon

c) the absolute safest person to be traveling in cabeswater ever, because the forest itself loves her, and also if you mess with her within the borders of cabeswater a bunch of tree lights will physically manifest and be like “hey buddy wanna think twice about that”

but she can’t use magic herself, still, which actually works in the favor of herself and the coven--witchcraft is in a sort of weird spot, culturally, where it’s both feared and often hated, but also understood to at times be necessary, especially by rural peoples like those of the village. im taking a very discworld spin on the witchcraft, because i love discworld and you can’t stop me, and so the attitude is, like. its frightening ancient magic and the church hates it but when there’s an emergency and someone’s on the border between life and death, or something is trying to pass into this world from another, etc etc etc, then you gotta suck it up and call on a witch because they’re the only ones who can deal with those things. so. the coven is tolerated, both because it’s too big and powerful to actually fight but also because it’s extremely needed when you live in a village right next door to fey lands. you NEED someone watching the border. however that doesn’t mean anyone wants to be seen publicly talking to a witch--but blue’s not a witch. she’s a witch’s daughter, but she’s not a witch herself, which is a step removed enough that she can go into town and run errands and also people will maybe pull her discretely aside and tell her if something’s coming up that the coven should know about, and it all works very neatly with her acting as a sort of liaison. very important role she plays, which is why gansey tries talking to her after his initial attempt to speak with the coven directly fails.

speaking of the coven itself: i’ve been calling it the fox way coven, even tho it probably wouldn’t be called that because there’s no road called fox way that the coven is built on, it’s a big magic house out in the fairy forest, BUT they do have a fox theme because i love foxes and this is a gift i have been given. if people have familiars in this coven, they’re foxes rather than cats, because as wonderful as cats are u cant have them and foxes in the same house that will go bad. but also there’s a v small number of them, like maybe three or four total out of the much higher number of women living there, who are fey blooded like adam, but who become foxes rather than adam’s deer. persephone is one of these! (it’s worth noting the reason why they become the same animal is because of a combination of coincidence, intentional theming, and mostly just because like, virtually all of the residents there aside from persephone are related to either maura or calla)

anyway the point is, because of this, blue’d seen enough feyblood transformations that when, one day when she was 9 or 10, on a visit to town, she saw the most distressed, disoriented fawn wobbling around frantically and was able to very quickly recognize that that was, in fact, a person who had probably turned into a deer for the first time, and responded by very calmly informing him that she knew who could help and leading him home. this is where those last two pictures come from, and how adam’s apprenticeship started.

like, there was a lot of arguing from the witches immediately--of course we’re going to teach him how to become human again but we aren’t really going to take him on in the coven are we? he’s a boy, he’s some local kid we know nothing about, what happened to keeping it in the family, he’s the wrong animal and we’ve got a whole thing going on--at which point persephone parted everyone like the red sea, took one look at adam, went “mine now” and despite a lot of grumbling that was the end of it. she took him on a bit of a tour of cabeswater a few days later, after he’d had time to think it over, and he felt so drawn to the forest that he agreed to the apprenticeship.

so he’s technically persephone’s apprentice but like in actual practice he’s being taught by the entire coven lmao, ANYWAY

adam being adam also had a backup plan for trying to get out of the village--even at ten he figured witchcraft might be a first way out of there, he was already thinking about it, but by thirteen when the good ole abuse started (and at which point the last whispers of dissent died out very quickly amongst the coven, nope, adam is one of us now, do you want us to very threateningly hang out in your front yard sometime because we can do that--what do you mean no, let us do this,) he was also like. i dont think this is a guarantee of getting out of here i need a second job. and the thing is, as was mentioned in the original post, the fey blood also means adam’s got issues with iron; it’ll poison him if he’s stabbed with it but it also reacts to his skin touching it like a hot stove. he’s fine if there’s a layer between his skin and the iron, but if he touches it directly, it’s Bad. so ofc this headstrong idiot takes an open spot a t a metalworker’s in the village because adam is the king of making bad decisions. the witches have a betting pool on how long it’ll take him to out himself. “its fine i’ll wear gloves,” he says. “it’s the perfect disguise no one will expect someone with fey connections to work near so much iron,” he says. “i have everything perfectly under control,” he says.

anyway he totally forgets to wear gloves before grabbing an iron tool while his dad and his boss are both in the store and in clear view of him and that’s why he was getting chased by hunters when gansey rescued him

also he and blue tried dating when they were like 13-14 and it ended about as badly as in canon and they made up later and by the time the story starts they’ve settled into very much being weird siblings. adam starts hanging out with gansey initially to try and basically spy on him, figure out why he’s here, but ends up rly liking the guy and deciding his reasons are sincerely to try and help people, and he tells this to blue who starts immediately accusing him of having a crush on the lordling and being a class traitor, because she does NOT like gansey at this point and really the nobility all prefer wizards to witches which is a stupid idiot decision and frankly the fact that this lordling is apparently enamored by some random deer is hilarious to her, but even moreso is the fact that adam actually defends the lordling to her, like, “wow adam its hilarious that the lordling’s friend thinks that you have charmed the lordling because from my perspective it looks the other way around” “shut uuuup you’re not listening im serious, like, yeah ok he put his foot in his mouth really hard when he talked to you but im telling you i dont think the whole i-wanna-understand thing is an act” “idk if i can trust you through those rose tinted glasses buddy. tell me again about that time he called you princely?” “oh my god”

this is turning into rambling but. thats the gist of the witches and blue esp thank u for coming if u made it this far here’s a bonus persephone fox

#trc #the raven cycle #blue sargent #deer boy au #longpost #VERY long im so sorry.

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