Tumgik
#protective glass screen wall
hoshigray · 10 months
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Alright, y'all, here's the plan: you're not quite aware of what Toji does for work, yet you keep quiet. But one night, the man comes home bleeding, and you can't keep your worries to yourself anymore. However, for your protection, Toji isn't ready to reveal his assassin business to you. And, in the heat of the moment, ends up saying something that hurts you instead...
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A/n: (Reuploaded bc I forgot smthn) This prompt was picked from a poll to celebrate the 300+ followers milestone (pssst tysm for 450+ you lovelies :D) two weeks back. Truthfully, I don't think this is my best work after proofreading, but I did my best. Probably bc 1) it's longer than I intended, and 2) I procrastinated waaaaay too much with this. I don't even think I made sense halfway through, lol, but fuck it, we ball. Anyways, like last time, there is art drawn by me (@hoshigaby) but it'll be found deep in the fic :33
I hope you enjoy the ride and reblogs + replies are much appreciated!! Also, don't be alarmed that Y/n in the drawing looks of a dark complexion, feel free to use your imagination if it doesn't suit you. But do not edit it; be an adult and ignore it if it's not your taste.
Cw: Toji x fem!reader - arguing/yelling - fingering (fem! receiving) - mating press - Daddy kink - first Toji is sour, then he's sweet bc he's whipped for you :) - clitoral play (pressing down and a pinch) - praise - breast fondling + nipple play - pet names (angel, baby, darlin', honey, kid, mama/ma, princess, sweetheart/sweetie) - Megumi mean-mugging his father while Tsumiki and Shiu Kong tell him to do better lol - mentions of blood and stab wound; isn't fully healed so reopens.
Wc: 5.8k
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"Uhh, are you sleeping on the couch?"
"Yes. Yes, I am."
"...Why??"
You scrunch your brow at your phone, looking at the two people you're talking to through the screen. "I know you're not about to get on my case over where I'm sleeping."
On the L-shaped couch lay you, cuddled up with a fluffy blanket and memory foam pillow, one hand holding your phone while another wrapped around a stuffed plushy. You were on a video call with your best friends: Utahime and Mei Mei.
Utahime, lying on her bed with a face mask, replied to you. "Oh, I'm definitely getting on your case because it's supposed to be the other way around!"
"True, but I like the couch anyways." You puff at the woman who's not satisfied with your answer. "Plus, I'm on the L-part of the couch, so it's practically like a bed!"
Your other friend, Mei Mei, chuckles at her screen. Icy blue hair pulled up in a bun with reading glasses positioned atop her forehead, probably counting her tips on her desk like she always does before bed. "My my, this is the fourth night this week. What did your man say to make you this upset?"
Memories of what happened before come back to you, and so does the exhausting irritation you've been trying to keep at bay.
It was a quiet night like this one as the rain fell hard on the silent streets. You've just put Tsumiki and Megumi to sleep and waited in the living room, watching a movie to pass the time. It was pretty late into the night when you heard the door open as drowsiness settled in. Nevertheless, you got up to greet the man you'd been waiting for coming from the entrance, but you weren't prepared for the sight that instantly woke you up.
Toji Fushiguro, groaning and leaning against the wall with his black jean jacket drenched from the rain. A hand was clenched on the left side of his torso, deep red tarnishing his plain white shirt. He was heaving in an attempt to even his breathing, but when he caught a glimpse of you standing before him, he was quick to try and play it off with a worn-out grin. "Hey, baby." His familiar deep voice was strained in subtle agony.
Worry bubbles within, and you rush towards him. "Oh my God, Toji, what happened!?" You remind yourself to not be too loud as the children are still asleep, so you rely on whisper yellings while walking him up to your shared bedroom.
Even in the room, Toji doesn't explain himself. Just silent hushes and cajoles that he's alright. "I'm fine, honey. Just tell me where's the first aid box." Pointing at the bathroom cabinet, you watch him leave your side to grab the kit. The crimson spilling from him is caused by a stab wound he reveals when he sits on the bathtub, lifting his shirt. You can feel your eyes water, imagining the pain he's going through when he hisses from putting on rubbing alcohol on the gash.
The words you want to say feel so forbidden. Your fingers fidget amongst themselves with the irregular beat of your chest. Don't say it, Y/n. Keep your mouth shut. Don't—
"Is this from work?"
Green eyes shoot back in your direction, and you immediately feel yourself sinking into a pool of regret.
Talk of Toji's occupation wasn't something you brought up much. Even at the beginning of your relationship, he didn't indulge in any insights about what he does, so you eventually quit after a few failed attempts. However, with all the nights he's come home while you sleep or the new scars you point out yet are brushed off, your anxiousness for him keeps festering. And seeing him with his own blood on his hands made you wonder how many nights he has pulled off doing such without your knowledge.
Toji's eyes go back to his wound. "Don't worry 'bout it." The stern tone of his voice has your blood turn cold. He didn't want to entertain this, especially in the wee hours of the night.
And yet you still persist. "No, Toji, I'm serious." You can see him glare at you through the raven bangs shading his forehead. A warning. But it doesn't stop you. "I'm getting worried about you."
From there was when the argument came. Every point you've made to him was shut down at once. His cold responses pierced you. Usually, you'd do what you can to avoid this type of confrontation. But now, it hurts even more when he doesn't cooperate with you, your concerns disregarded like rubbish.
"Damn it, Y/n!" Toji barks at you, seething through the physical pain as a fist bangs hard on the bathroom cabinet. "Why's it so hard for you to stay out of this?"
"Well, if you would tell me things instead of pushing me out the way, then maybe I wouldn't have to!" At this point, you're fighting the tears from falling. Your face hot with frustration, but you still speak. "Toji, I've done so much for you and the kids, and I—"
"No one told you to do—"
"Yet I STILL do!" It's your turn to yell. "I care about you deeply, same with Tsumiki and Megumi. I don't ask for much, Toji. But I want you to open your life to me just a little, even when you're hurt like this!"
His emerald eyes remain rigid despite your pleas to him. And what he said next had you still to the core. You can recall the beat of your heart corrupting your senses while the tears stride down.
"If you were goin' to be a thorn on my side like this, I wouldn't have let you be in it in the first place."
"He said WHAT!!??" Utahime shrieks after you retell the situation to your friends.
You nod your head. "I just looked at him, and he looked at me. Then I turned, picked my pillow up, and headed downstairs to this couch."
To say the dark-haired woman was livid was an understatement. "And tell me WHY this fucker isn't the one sleeping on this couch, again??"
"Even if I did tell him to sleep on the couch, he probably would say something like, 'Tch, why should I? I pay bills for this damn house,' and yadda, yadda." This is true, apart from the man being injured, so having him move would've been immoral. "Plus, I just really wanted to get outta the room, so I went ahead and moved myself out."
"So? You pay bills too, what the hell!? Good God, Y/n," Utahime shakes her head. "You sure we can't pummel this dude?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Besides, I'm getting used to ignoring him when I see him around the house. But, oh my God, guys, his kids," the phone panned down to the plush toy and the pink, fluffy blanket. "Miki saw me sleeping here the other morning and gave me this blanket. And Gumi — he's such a sweetie. He gave me his favorite froggy toy to sleep with to scare off his dad from 'bothering me in my dreams.' "
"Hmm, how adorable." Mei Mei comments. "Funny how such darlings can come from a guy like that."
Utahime nods rapidly and throws in her opinion. "Listen, Y/n, you shouldn't think you outta be in every part of that man's life. Even so, he should at least know how to compromise. I mean, come on, you take care of him, the kids, the house, and go to work with us. All of that just for you to sleep on a couch!?"
"You're not gonna let this couch thing go, aren't you?" The pale blue-haired woman chuckles again, and Utahime sighs. "But she's right, Y/n. It takes a certain kind of person to have the patience to do what you do in a relationship with a single father and two children. I'm sure Utahime would've left with all her hair out."
The dark-haired one gets up from her bed and takes her device with her, heading to the bathroom to finish her skin care. "Now, why am I the one used as an example?"
"Because you're the most vocal about a relationship that isn't yours." A sly smile is painted on Mei Mei's face after she hears a 'hmph!' from the other as Utahime removes the mask and washes her face. "My point is that you like this man — love him even. But that love shouldn't cost you to be so emotionally drained. Perhaps he understands this, except it wasn't the perfect moment for you two to express yourselves. Maybe talk to him when you two stop the silent treatment."
All you do is hum aimlessly, too wrapped in what your friend said to give a proper response. Then you yawn, your body signaling you to finally rest. "I'll sleep on that thought. Night, girlies~~" You wave and send kisses to the other two. They do the same as you leave the video call, placing the phone on the coffee table and snuggling up with the blanket and plush toy.
You try to distract yourself by thinking of what you'll do tomorrow. You gotta get up and make breakfast for Tsumiki and Megumi before waking them up, then head to the station and take the bus to work. Maybe you can finally try that new café close by with Mei Mei and Utahime for lunch. And when you return home, you should whip up something fun for the kids to eat.
Perhaps, make something for Toji since he sometimes forgets to feed himself when you're not around. Or if he's leaving for work, wish him a safe trip back home like always. And...if he's down for it...you can find the right time......to talk...about......
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The moment you closed your eyes, it felt as though you were sleeping on your own bed again. When you turn to your side, your body descends into the feeling of cold sheets beneath you. It was pretty comfy! Plus, the blanket—
Wait...Sheets?
Your eyes slowly open to the sight of bedsheets underneath you. Navigating out of the sleepy stupor, you make out parts of your surroundings to know that you're not in the living room anymore. You slowly rise up to face the door of the bedroom. Your shared bedroom.
A sudden cough alerts you, forced as if to grab your attention. A chill crawls up your spine. Oh God, no. You turn to the side to see the man accompanying his side of the bed. And there he was, Toji, lying on his side with his head resting on a hand, looking dead at you. His raven hair looked damp from a recent shower, sporting only a grey wifebeater and dark sweatpants.
"Hey," is all he says to you. No smirk and no nickname followed with the greeting. Just a simple address to you with his green eyes softly watching yours. You almost fall into their inviting spell the more you look at them.
Nonetheless, it's not compelling enough since you remember he's the man you fought with four days ago — the same man you weren't prepared to see right now. You quickly turn away from him and lift the comforter to exit the room. However, Toji grabbed your wrist before your feet could touch the floor, his grip too strong for you to pull away from him.
You avoid eye contact with him, your back facing him. "Toji, let me go. I'm going to sleep."
"Then sleep."
"On the couch, Toji." You try and pull again. Nothing.
"Fuck that, just sleep here. I didn't carry you up here for nothin'."
You shake your head as you exhale through your nose. Of course, he carried me here. "Whatever happened to you not wanting me to be a part of your life?"
The words that left your lips surprised you and the grip around your wrist tightens. You didn't mean to say them, but it was the truth because they were his own words. Or did you?
Still facing away from Toji, you're unable to see his reaction. Oh shit, is he angry? Is he going to let me go after that?
"Darlin', please..." His deep voice hushed for only you to hear. "I just really need you with me here. Just for tonight...." His hold lessens, leaving you to decide whether you should stay.
The silence is uncomfortable for both of you — especially for Toji, who has you where he wants you to be, where you're supposed to be. As seconds pass when he doesn't hear from you, the nervousness that used to exist before your relationship rises back into the pit of his stomach. And his soul drops down when you remove your wrist from his hand.
Though, to his surprise, your hand lifts the comforter up while your legs move back on top of the mattress. You lay back down with a sigh, your back still facing Toji. "Did you give Miki back her blanket?"
Toji exhales quietly, situating himself back on his side of the bed. "Yeah, and Megumi with his toy."
You hum, and the silence fills the room once more.
Toji looks at nothing but your figure next to him, watching the rise and fall of your shoulder as you breathe silently, your face nestled comfortably on the pillow. To think it's been half a week since he last saw you in this room is hard to believe.
That night when you left him really stuck with him. The image of your face covered in tears was all he envisioned, the same with you grabbing your pillow and exiting the room. After tending his stab wound, he went down to talk it out. Yet when Toji saw you sleeping soundly on the couch with dried tears painting your pretty face, he didn't dare wake you up and just went to bed.
And it was worse the following days. Not only did he have you avoiding him at every chance, but he had to deal with the judgmental looks of his children. Never in his life has he seen Megumi give him glares that meant business. If looks could kill, Toji would be finished. And Tsumiki, his sweet little girl, now pesters him about being nice to Y/n, saying he should think about their feelings and apologize.
But what about his feelings? Does no one understand that he was just trying to keep you out of business that you didn't need to fret over? He's very aware that his job is not a normal one. It's dangerous, and anyone around him can get hurt or worse. Hence, keeping you away from this part of his life keeps you and his family safe. If not knowing he's an assassin keeps you from harm's way, why change that.
At least...that's what he thought, not what he said.
Even Shiu Kong, his handler, had something to say after telling him what had happened during lunch today. "Wow. I knew you were trash, but I didn't know you were that dumb, too." The man snickers when Toji shoves a middle finger his way. Shiu lights another cigarette after discarding the one he finishes. "Well, how were they supposed to know you were watching out for them? If someone you love comes to your front door bloody and sick, whose safety are you worrying about?"
Toji says nothing to that, letting the other man resume speaking some sense into him after taking a long sig from his cigarette.
"Look. I can't promise that this angel of yours wants to stay with you after what you said. That's all up to them. But until they decide that, I hope your dumbass realizes when someone sticks with you literally through blood and pain, that's someone who cares for you to the Moon and back. Not saying you should tell them what you do, but a nice word or two of comfort is all they need. If you're not that big of an idiot, reconcile and let them know you care about them."
"...Reconcile and let them know you care about them..."
If there's one thing that Toji has trouble with, it's knowing how to use his words. It was a tiny problem in the earlier stages of your relationship, but as time flew, you could guess how much the tall man cherishes you by his actions rather than words.
The older man knows that you know he loves you. But now, when he's pushed into a position where words are necessary to portray his real feelings for you, he feels stumped.
"If you were goin' to be a thorn on my side like this, I wouldn't have let you be in it in the first place."
Toji grimaces at his own words replaying in his head. Why the fuck did I say that?
"Whatever happened to you not wanting me to be a part of your life?"
Your words ring in his mind. Why did I fuckin' say that for? What the hell is wrong with me? What did—
"Toji?"
He returns to reality, eyes moving back to your still silhouette.
"I know you're still awake, so I'm gonna ask this." Toji braces himself for whatever your soft voice muttered. "Whatever job you're doing, is it a dangerous one?"
Shit. The dreaded talk is here, and Toji cannot escape it.
"Yeah."
"Are you good at your job?"
"It's the only thing I'm good at."
You nod your head aimlessly to his answer. Then you turn around to face the anxious older man. The moonlight peaking through the window blinds illuminates your face beautifully while Toji's breathing slows.
"I don't think that's true," you continue to answer. "You're good at being a father to Tsumiki and Megumi. Not the best, but a decent one nonetheless. You're also good at caring for me; letting me live with you and your family proves that. And lastly," Toji gulps with a dry throat.
"You're good at loving. You say you're lousy at it, but there's love in everything you do for me. It's there when you look at me whenever you think I'm unaware. Or when you silently grab my hand when in crowded areas. Or," a small chuckle exits from you. "When you carry me up from downstairs to the bedroom."
Toji's jade eyes lock in with yours, waiting for you to avert your gaze away from him. But you don't. You keep looking at him. You keep spoiling him. This type of recognition is something Toji never thought he deserved, so you giving it to him so effortlessly makes his growing guilt eat him alive.
"I care about you so much, Toji." You shift closer to Toji and bring a hand to his cheek, causing the man to lift his brows. Your face is only a few inches away from his. "What happened yesterday really scared me. All I could think about was the wound and all the scars you have. Where they all came from and how deep they are. Or......you never coming back."
"Baby..." Toji absently refers to you with a sweet name, placing his big hand on top of yours on his cheek. He lets you finish.
"I know you can't guarantee coming back to me unscathed, but I just want you to promise me something: please let me know you'll be okay. When you're gone, I can only hope you make it back home safely. So, just promise to not get yourself killed." A sheepish smile is used to ease the serious tone. "Even if I'm not in your life, I'm sure Tsumiki and Megumi would be pretty upset to not have you around."
Toji scoffs. "Trust me, I'm sure they'd leave me the moment you step out the door." That makes you laugh, and it has the man swooning hearing it. His hand moves to your cheek, and you allow him to stroke it with a thumb. "And I wouldn't blame 'em. Havin' such a beautiful and loving angel slip through my fingers?"
"Toji..."
"I'm sorry for what I said and scarin' you like that. If you aren't here with me, as part of my life and all, then I don't think I can't make a promise like that. You're too good fr' me, and I'm sorry if I didn't seem to appreciate you until now."
And you know he's genuine with his plea, his green eyes gauging your reaction to see if he's worth another chance. All you do is sigh and lift yourself up, wipe his wet bangs from his forehead, and kiss it. "Not the best apology, but I accept it."
He drones, relishing the feeling of your lips on him again. "So, are we cool, kid?"
"Yeah," you peer down at him with a smile, and he does the same. "We're cool. However, if you ever yell at me again, don't be surprised when I pack my bags."
"Oh yeah?" Toji raises a brow. "I'll be careful, then."
"You better." Hushed chuckles are shared to comfort the silence, enjoying the closeness between you two that felt like forever to have again. Just the two of you with you giggling above him and the light from the window cascading an ethereal glow to your features. Your teeth shied behind pretty lips, lips he wanted to kiss.
And you catch him looking. You notice him wanting you, needing you. Just as much as you need him. You slowly lean down to his face, planting your soft lips on his rigid pair.
Toji's surprised by the action for a moment, but he moans into your mouth and pulls you into him closer. The kiss starts off nice and slow yet quickly changes to one filled with passion and desire. Teeth clashing, tongues exchanging, sweet moans paired with aroused groans.
As you two are lost in each other's lips, Toji carefully maneuvers you on your back with him on top of you. Your legs find purchase around his waist as he rocks into your core, rocking your hips together in a steady rhythm by the second.
His hand snakes down to your lower region, fingers brushing past your pajamas and onto your panty-covered vulva. The intrusion has you breaking the kiss with heavy breaths filling the silent, moonlit room. He busses your chin down to your neck as shaky mewls slip out your mouth.
"Haaah, Toji, we shouldn't. It's late—Hmmm..." Your whimpers don't stop him from pulling your pajamas and undergarments off.
"It's okay, sweetheart, lemme make it up to you." He says in-between kisses on your clavicle, pulling up your shirt to reveal your bare chest. His free hand fondles a breast before his mouth goes for the other. "Let Daddy take care of you..."
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The sudden combination of his thick fingers intruding between your nether folds and his mouth sucking and licking your sensitive nipple has you whining in bliss, your hand gripping his wet raven hair resulting in a satisfied groan from the older man. Toji missed this — missed you — close to him, under him on this bed.
One finger plays with your wet chasm for a few moments before it's inserted inside. A shriek is let out as your cunt adjusts to the digit. "Mmmph! Oh God, Daddy, your fingers...Ahhh!"
A soft 'pop' leaves from Toji's mouth when pulled back from sucking on your nipple, his tongue lapping around the sensitive nob. "What's that, mama? My fingers feelin' good?" You nod rapidly, but that's not the answer Toji's looking for, so he bites on your nipple gingerly yet hard enough for you to jolt. "Daddy wants your words, angel."
"Yesss, yes, your fingers feel soo good," You mewl to him, and Toji chuckles dangerously low while rewarding you with another digit in your slick-coated hole. His abrupt middle finger joins his forefinger in attacking your velvety walls, and your voice shifts higher in ecstasy.
The sounds of Toji's tongue licking around your nipple coincide with the squelches between his fingers and your gushy slit. Your brain starts to short-circuit.
"Ahh! Ahhh! Daddy, I can feel—I'm gonna," Toji's fingers pick up the pace. You're so close to release, you can feel it.
"Gonna be good and cum on Daddy's fingers, right, baby?"
"Mhmmm, I wanna co—Oh, Jesus, I wanna come. Hoooooh..."
"Then go ahead, princess. Mess 'em up." Toji comes up to kiss your forehead as his fingers go irrationally fast, and a thumb sneaks to press down on your unattended clit. With a choked cry, you spasm and cream on his thick digits. He watches you finish, loving the image of your head pushed back on pillows and your body arching towards him.
He dismisses himself from you once you're done, licking his fingers of your essence and taking off his wifebeater and pants. The image of his free cock has you biting your lower lip in anticipation as you discard your shirt to the bedroom floor as well. When you look at Toji, you notice the bandaged patch on his left side. He sees you glimpsing, quick to ease your concerns. "I'll be fine, darlin'. Won't go too crazy." Looking at his scarred body in a new light, you nod and follow his lead.
Toji carries your legs up to move to the right of his shoulder, situating you two into a mating press. His dick aligns with your glossy cunt. Precum meets slick and lubricates the two sexes pushing into each other. Toji coaxes you. "Too tense, ma. Relax fr' me." You prepare yourself with even breaths, and the man pushes into you with each exhale.
The head of his cock enters, a cry departs from your lips, and Toji hisses with the tightness of your slit. His hips go slow, making sure your walls accommodate every vein and dent of his dick as it ventures deep within you. Hits to your G-spot have you babbling incoherent prayers, gripping the sheets under you.
When his cockhead finally meets your cervix, you sob his name in rapture. Toji smirks, dialing the pace of his thrusts up. "Mmmm, Christ, yr' tight pussy. So fuckin' perfect fr' me."
Every stroke prompts a euphoric moan from you, drool escaping your lips as your mind turns into putty. The noises of his pelvis smacking on your ass feel so wrong to hear, yet you can't help but grip around Toji's girthy length. It gets worse when he presses his entire body weight on you, forcing you to take his cock and abusing your tender cervix with every deep rut.
As for Toji, he's enjoying seeing you writhe and pant under his bow. The corner of your eyes sprinkled with tears, your mouth wailing in euphoric chants, the way your cunt clamps around his dick when he grinds his hips deep onto your come-covered folds. He can never get enough of this, enough of you, driving him so fucking crazy.
"Daddyyy, I'm gonna—Ahhaaaa!!" Toji's now going at an erratic cadence, his cock churning your insides as his heavy balls slapping your folds being the only things you can listen to. Your whines get higher and higher while chasing your climax. "Cu-cumming, I'm gonna cumm—Ohhh!!"
"Hnngh! Oh, shit, fuck, fuck. Me too, kid, me too," Toji groans into your ear. God, his deep voice makes your brain mush. "Oooooh, want me to fill you up, mama?"
Your head nods frantically, tears now staining your face. "Yessss, please, Daddy!! I want it!" Toji hears your pleas and smashes his mouth into yours, moans swapped between lips with tongues daubed in saliva. A hand is moved down to your clit, pinching the spot between Toji's forefinger and thumb. And your pussy tightens around his cock one last time before you peak onto him.
The fluttery spasms of your walls clenching around Toji have him finish in three deep strokes, spurting his seed inside you before he relaxes his heaving body on yours. The kiss breaks with you two huffing and panting, the final moments of your high finally depleting out of your nude bodies.
His green eyes take in your dazed expression, calloused fingers wiping your tears away. "How's that for an apology?"
"You pervy old man," You chuckle to yourself, so out of breath. "You're more of a man of action anyway, so you pulled through. "
"Hehe, I'll take it." He cups your jaw with his big hand, your eyes locked in with his. "I love you so fuckin' much, baby. Sorry for ever making you think otherwise."
You blink once. Twice. Your hands come up to his face, and a finger swipes away black bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead. "I love you too, Toji. I would've left your ass if you weren't."
Toji smiles and leans in to kiss your swollen lips with his scared ones; however, a sharp pain stops him, prompting the big man to yell out. Worried, you try to assess what's wrong. Then you see it: the blood-stained bandage on his left side.
A gasp catches his attention, and Toji turns to what you're gawking at. His body freezes, seeing the trail of blood exit from his reopened wound.
"Ahhhh shit..."
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"Well, well, well," Utahime smirks at you through the screen. "I see you're not on the couch anymore."
You smile sheepishly as you lie on the pillows and headboard of your shared bed. Tsumiki and Megumi huddle beside you, napping blissfully around your presence under Tsumiki's pink blanket.
"Yeah, we made up last night." To avoid disturbing the children, you reply in whispers.
Mei Mei hums. "I see that. I assume you two had a nice talk about it?" You open your mouth, but no words come out. The two women quirk up a brow.
"Oh? I take it that there was more than just talking." Utahime chimes in, her smile going ear to ear while your eyes avoid the screen. "No wonder we didn't see you at work today. The dick so good it saved your relationship, huh?" She laughs at you hushing her up for using crude language while the children sleep. "Well, happy you two figured it out. But don't think I won't come over there and beat his ass the next time I see you on that couch."
"I second that," Mei Mei agrees. "But Uta can do the beatdown; I'm more interested in what he has in his wallet."
"Not much, I'll tell you that." you correct your friend. "I'm the one who takes care of his finances for safe-keeping."
"Well, that makes things easier for me."
The three of you laugh through your devices. Then you hear heavy footsteps drawing closer from the stairs. "Oop, he's back now. I'll talk to you guys later!" You hurriedly wave and kiss your friends goodbye before ending the video call. The bedroom door opens, and there he is.
Toji flashes a quick smile at you before it vanishes once he sees his kids nestled around you. "I was hopin' to get some alone time with you."
You giggle as you brush Tsumik's hair away from her pretty face. "You're back early. Is your wound okay now?"
"Hmph, yeah, thanks to you pushin' me out the way and grabbin' for the first aid kit." Toji pokes fun at you for the event from last night, where you immediately pushed the brawny man off of you and ran for the tools necessary to treat his open injury the moment you saw blood. You chuckle and watch the tall man climb into bed. "Doc said it should fully heal within a week or two. Why the squirts here?"
"They were happy to find me back in the room for a nap, so they joined me and kept me company." Megumi snuggles close to you for warmth, and you pick him up to your chest.
"Well, they're takin' my spot."
"I don't think they care."
Toji pinches your nose for your snarky remark, and you wriggle out of his fingers with quiet chuckles. His hand then cups your face and pulls you to face him, his emerald eyes softly gazing into you.
"You know I love the hell outta you, right?" His deep voice sounds sweet to the ears. You purr into his hand. "And I hope you know I'm the same for you." He nods. You smile.
He hesitates for a split second, but Toji leans close to kiss your tender lips. Only for a tiny hand to come smacking him in the face, halting him from further movement. To the shock of you both, Megumi was back awake, sending a mean look at his father.
Toji groans in annoyance. "What was that for, brat?"
"For making Y/n sad." Megumi keeps his hold on you secure as he and Toji mean-mug each other. Queuing Tsumiki from her slumber, defending you from her father. "Apologize or stay away!" The little girl warns the older man.
You're quick to break up the mini-fight amongst the Fushiguros. "Alright, kids, no need to worry about me. Your dad already apologized to me by promising to take us out for dinner tonight." Childish faces beam in delight while Toji shifts to instant puzzlement. "Now go get ready and put on your shoes!" Tsumiki and Megumi do just that, rushing out of your shared room and to their own.
When you can't hear the pitter-patter of little feet anymore, you feel big strong arms haul you into Toji's embrace, attacking you with tickles. You try to squirm your way out, but it's no use when he uses his body to cage you in. "Who told you to make promises on my name, huh? You tryna be bratty with me, kid?" He grins at your ticklish suffering.
"Then don't you—Oh God, stop!" It's difficult finishing your statement while fighting back laughter and screams. "Don't you ever yell at me again!"
He stops tickling you, thank God. You catch your breath as Toji looks at you under him with a proud smile. "I don't plan on it, sweetie. Now c'mere."
Toji finally has his lips placed on your soft ones, and you happily return the favor by wrapping your arms around his neck to pepper him with delicate kisses. But the romantic atmosphere vanishes when the children come and dogpile on Toji after hearing your ticklish screams, forcing the older Fushiguro off of you to deal with his kids with tickles of their own.
Observing the children laugh and squirm under Toji's merciless fingers, a soft smile adorns your face watching the domestic display before you and thinking how lucky you are to witness such a thing. Well, that's before all three of them turn to you and bring you another ticklish horror.
And despite the torture, your screams and giggles are filled with pure joy and contentment, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
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kaiijo · 11 months
Text
TOLD YOU SO — ITOSHI SAE
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pairing: itoshi sae x fem! reader content: reader wears a dress, a little possessive behavior on sae’s end, oliver aiku cameo notes: pretty eyes = pretty guys
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You love Sae, you really do. Behind that apathetic, disinterested exterior lies a heart that beats in turn with yours. You love him, you really, really do, and you have to remind yourself of that as you ignore the side-eye he’s giving you that’s tinged with a certain smugness and screams, I told you so.
Okay, so it definitely was not the smartest move to forego a coat when you knew that this fundraiser was going to be on an outdoor rooftop bar in late fall. But none of your coats went with the dress you were wearing — a long, low-backed, satin number — which was the only thing you had that was formal enough for the event. Sae had looked you up and down when you two were getting ready in your apartment and said, “You’re going to be cold.”
“I’m fine,” you insisted, “it’s not even that cold out.”
“You need to bring a coat.”
“I’m really fine, Sae. I run hot, remember?”
He glanced at your outfit again and said, “You’re going to be freezing.”
You shrugged and gave him a cheeky smile. “Then I’ll just wear your coat.”
He rolled his eyes. “No way, I’m not going to be cold because of your poor judgment.”
You hummed, “I think you will.”
“And I think you’ll be freezing.”
“Guess we’ll both have to wait and see whose right.”
You really hate when he’s absolutely and utterly correct in an argument, because at the moment, you’re trying your best to pretend that the goosebumps climbing your skin is not due to the chilly evening air. You refuse to meet Sae’s eyes, enviously peeking at his suit jacket.
You shiver as a breeze blows by and you huff to yourself, mumbling that you’re going to get a drink. Maybe indulging in the open bar will warm you up. You weave through the crowd and make it to the bar, sighing when you feel the warmth from one of the few heat lamps set up around the area. You swear that your boyfriend made the two of you purposely stand in a corner without one to prove a point.
You order a martini and sip it as you stand in the heat for a few more seconds, relishing in it. It’s not total protection from the cold but it definitely helps some.
You feel someone sidle up next to you and say, “You’re Sae’s girlfriend, right?”
You turn and face the owner of the voice, extending your free hand. “Yeah, that’s me. Oliver Aiku, right?”
“In the flesh,” he chuckles and he shakes your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve been bugging Itoshi to introduce us since we saw you on his home screen.”
You smile involuntarily. That photo is from when you and Sae really started getting serious in your relationship, and he took you on a surprise trip to a little cottage in Mallorca. “Yeah, we’ve been trying to keep things pretty private.”
Oliver hums, “I get that, but it’s nice to finally meet the person who makes him actually crack a smile for once.”
You laugh at that and the two of you carry on a pleasant conversation. You finally get how so many people fall victim to Oliver’s charms, especially after so much press about his tendency towards womanizing; he’s easy to talk to, friendly, definitely charismatic, and undoubtedly easy on the eyes. At the end of the day, though, you wouldn’t trade your grumpy, green-eyed boyfriend for anyone in the world. Not when you get to see the softer edges of him when his walls crumble and he falls into your arms. You wouldn’t trade that for anything.
A particularly strong gust of wind makes you stiffen and set your glass down, wrapping your arms around yourself. Okay, you’ll finally admit it aloud: “It’s fucking freezing.”
Oliver raises an eyebrow and before you know it, he’s shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over your bare shoulders. “Better?”
You let out a sigh. “Much.”
“Aiku.” Sae’s voice sounds from behind you, tone sharp.
“Itoshi!” Oliver ignores the ice in your boyfriend’s tone as he motions to you. “Can’t believe you’ve been keeping this one from us! She’s certainly a charmer.”
Sae glares at him. “I know, she’s my girlfriend, which is why I don’t understand why she’s wearing your coat.”
“Oh, she said she was cold.”
Sae gives you a look, frowns, and he slides his jacket off his shoulders and holds it out to you. “Take this,” he says and you do, hiding your giddiness as you hand Oliver his jacket back. You sink into Sae’s suit jacket, letting the familiar scent of his cologne flood your senses.
Oliver pats your shoulder and says, “It was nice to meet you! Don’t be a stranger, ‘kay?” He disappears into the crowd and it’s your turn to give Sae a smug look.
“Don’t even,” he says.
You lean into him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Guess we were both right in the end.”
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xlatiwritesx · 2 months
Text
Serious, serious | CL16
A/N: an F1 imagine 🏎️ !!! Yes, yes, I’m into F1 finally, so I of course had to write something and who else would it be than THE Charles Leclerc. Ngl, this isn’t my best work but I just had to get this idea out of my system 😵‍💫. Hope you guys enjoy it !!
Words: 1.6K
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: after your first serious scare being an F1 girlfriend, you’re rewarded with a new found emotion.
Time is a funny thing. Humorous, at times. It goes fast or slow as it pleases. Chooses its pace to get on your weakest nerve.
For instance, the past three months flew by. Meeting him, texting for the first time, your first date, your first kiss, attending his first race, getting to know his friends.
It felt as fast as blinking an eye. Or as fast as you were falling for him.
"A Ferrari car is off the track!" The commentator's voice boomed through the TV speakers. You jumped to your feet from the leather couch you were sat on.
"Oh no" the commentator said soon after. Soon after Charles' car crashed into the concrete wall alongside the track.
Your heart fell, your breath quickening at a dangerous rate. You shut your eyes, reminding yourself of what Charles always said to you.
"Crashes happen. All the time. These cars, though, they're meant to protect us. So, crashes aren’t as dangerous as they seem in F1"
"He's okay" you whispered to yourself. However, when you opened your eyes, everyone's face didn't confirm that, though.
"Right?" You asked, looking around the Ferrari unit. Everyone was frozen, eyes glued on the screen that showed smoke coming out of the crashed Ferrari car.
Charles' car.
Your legs moved before you even decided. You ran so fast. Faster than any car still racing out there even though the world seemed to crumble and break into pieces.
You gasped for air, the wind making it colder than usual. You reached a half empty Ferrari station. All those screens deserted. You barely held yourself up. You wondered how bad was it that half the team had to go to the scene.
"Crashes are normal in Formula One. Almost inevitable"
Not when it's the guy that you were realizing meant much more to you than you thought. The thought terrified you. So much terrified you all of a sudden.
"How do I get there?" You didn't realize how panicked you were until you heard yourself speak. The man stared at you in confusion.
"How do I get to the crash?" You urged. You couldn't believe you were saying that.
"Ma'am, you can't just go-“
"No, no! I have to!" You could feel your eyes well with tears.
"It's Charles Leclerc! Hurry!" A group of paramedics ran to their veichle. You ran after them.
"Ma'am this is not allowed-"
"Please!" You begged them.
"I'm sorry, this is for authorized-"
"Y/n!" You turned around, desperate to believe what you were hearing.
"Carlos! Carlos, please tell me he's okay" you ran to the only person that you felt would care enough to tend to your worries.
"They're taking him to the hospital" he sighed, bowing his head, his fingertips barely holding his helmet.
"W-why?" You stuttered. He finally looked at you.
"Let's just go"
You silently followed Carlos to his car after he quickly changed out of his suit. The drive to the hospital drove you insane. So many questions. Wondering about so much, too much at once.
As soon as Carlos parked outside the emergencies, you ran out of the car and through the glass doors, not caring about all the chaos going just outside of them.
"How serious is it?!"
"Do you think Leclerc will be able to go back to racing?!"
"Will he be there for the next race?!"
It was a lot. Too much, even. You wanted to scream them away. Tell them that this wasn't the time to ask all those questions with bright cameras and microphones everywhere. To respect the other patients' and their families' privacy. But you care more about Charles right now. So you kept running until your hands hit the edge of the counter.
"Charles Leclerc just came in" you breathed. The nurse widened her eyes at your state and just pointed to where he was.
You got to his bed in no time, him just lying there, unconscious. You immediately held his hand and the waterworks began. Carlos walked into the curtain closed space and stood in front of the bed, leaning on the edge.
"Hey" he called so quietly. You just kept crying.
"I don't recommend dating a Formula One driver if you'll cry this hard every time he crashes" he said casually. You stopped sobbing and looked up and to your left. You glared. Carlos shrugged.
"Just saying" he said, looking away.
"Carlos!" You whined. He looked at you, but you just went back to looking at Charles.
You noticed some bruises already forming on his hands. You held it tighter. You felt like time was not moving. It just dragged on and on. Carlos stood there. You sat there. Charles laid there. Just like that. For eternity.
"You didn't eat anything. What do you want?" Carlos' voice reminded you of his existence. You slowly turned to look at him, your tears barely dried on your face.
"How can you be so…chill?" You asked. Not in annoyance. Just out of pure curiosity. Carlos frowned at you for a second, before breaking into a fit of laughter. You stared at him blankly, your hand still holding Charles' tightly.
"I'm telling you! This sport is not for the faint of heart!" He waved a warning finger at you and you frowned at him. This time in annoyance.
"We just" he sighed when he stopped laughing, only a smile left behind from it.
"We get used to this. To seeing it. To being victims of it" he said ever so casually that it terrified you. It was terrifying the things passion makes a person do. How far people would go for what they love.
"I'm getting food and you will eat it. Charles would kill me if he woke up to a starving you while I was just hanging here. Deal?" He raised a brow at you. You hesitated, but Carlos kept his gaze. You finally nodded.
"Good. I'll be back in a bit" he said before leaving. You watched him go and something warm filled you. Gratitude.
You were grateful for him staying with you. With Charles. Not all drivers care enough to do that, unfortunately. You didn't notice the smile on your face until a few minutes later. When Charles spoke.
"What's so funny?" He mumbled. Your eyes shot to his and you stood up in an instant.
"Charles?!" You exclaimed, tears filling your eyes for the millionth time today. He just blinked, wincing.
“Who won the race?” He asked, still trying to find his voice.
"Oh my god" you covered your face, walking away from his bed in disbelief.
“Seriously?!” You spun around, crying. You wanted to fight even harder when a smile slowly took form on his tired face.
“Charles do you know how terrified I was?! And all you’re worried about is who won that race?!” You kept scolding. He placed one arm behind his head, still watching you in amusement. You breathed heavily, not bothering to wipe your tears as you crossed your arms over your chest.
You watched him laying there, smiling with his arm under his head, giving him better view of your tear-stained face.
“You know what?” He spoke. You had to walk a step closer so you could hear him clearly.
“I don’t want to know who won the race. I want to know how on earth did I get this lucky” he started.
“Yeah! I’m so glad it just cane down to some bruises. And, and, you’re awake, and you’re talking, and you seem okay!” You rambled, now sitting by his side on the edge of the bed. He chuckled softly at you missing what he meant, raising a hand to wipe your tears, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Right when I realized what was happening, there was one thought that kept echoing in my mind” he whispered, suddenly all serious. Your heartbeat quickened, not enjoying the memory of watching him crash and not knowing what he was feeling or if he was going to be okay.
“I just kept thinking ‘fuck. I didn’t get to tell her I love her’” he confessed. You raised your brows slightly, surprised at the sudden confession. You’ve been together for three months now and neither of you had said it, yet.
But there it was. And it felt like the world that crumbled after the race was patched and stitched back to perfect, pristine condition.
You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. Charles smiled as well, his heart monitor exposing how important this moment was to him.
You leaned down and wrapped your arms around his neck carefully, holding him tightly to make up for all the fear of losing him. For all the fear of him not feeling the same way.
“I love you, too, Charles” you whispered.
You held each other for as long as it took for your flushed cheeks and racing hearts to quiet down, giving your new found feelings some sense of privacy.
Once you pulled away, your faces met, less than an inch apart. Charles leaned in. You were grateful there was no heart monitor on you, or that would’ve been the end.
“So, I didn’t know which is your favorite, so I got all flavors-“
Carlos’ voice sent you flying to your feet. Charles sat where he was and pierced his lips shut, staring at nothing in particular.
Carlos’ eyes danced between the two of you and he broke into a grin when he realized.
“I think it finally happened?” Carlos asked, hinting at what you both just confessed to one another. You glanced at Charles just to catch him glancing at you. He cleared his throat and you held back a smile.
“So now it’s serious, serious?” Carlos asked excitedly.
“Serious, serious” you both answered.
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aft3rhrs · 13 days
Text
— pastel pink ღ
pairing: namjoon x reader
genre: forbidden romance, step!father au
warnings: dead dove, yandere, pseudo incest, cheating, age gap (the reader is always 18+!), corruption, porn, cnc themes, mentions of masturbation, choking, dub con, fingering, daddy kink, rough sex, humiliation, praise, dirty talk, allusions to sadism & masochism, multiple orgasms, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut), creampie, aftercare
*use of the words “rape”, “abuse”.
masterlist
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Namjoon used to think that you didn't quite understand the consequences of playing with fire. It was not surprising, after all, considering your young age. You were but an inexperienced cub compared to the wolf that raised you, not yet having grasped the unbridled nature of all things wild.
Sooner or later, though, inching too close to the flames was bound to get you burned. Somewhere in the darkest depths of his heart, Namjoon craved to inflict the pain of the heat on you, mark his territory with a swirl of scars.
Wasn't every father's daughter his most precious gift? Pretty like a doll, with a heart that had flowers and thorns tangling through it. A bricked, bleeding house that welcomed no intruders. He wanted nothing more than to keep it safe.
It was those protective instincts that had always kept him in check, tamed, in constant agony over something he could never have.
Until tonight.
Until it turned out your doe eyes and the pastel pink of your bedroom were misleading lies; and you yearned for the burn of the fire, simply too afraid to dive into its scorching depths.
And what was his duty if not to help you experience life, fulfill all your soul's desires? With immense love and a guiding, fatherly hand, now stuck in between your soft thighs.
"Is this what you like?"
The hoarse whisper made you clench. You whimpered in response, your eyes growing warm.
"No."
You knew it was pointless to lie; he could feel you soaking his fingers, pulsing around their thick girth. But it was too much handle, and the filthy video playing on the screen made you want to shrink.
"Yeah," Namjoon coaxed, breathing into your ear. "You like watching old men fuck their daughters? Like watching them abuse their good little girls?"
Relentless, he pumped the digits in and out of your poor cunt, and the tears overflowed, a dangerous combination of the shame and the orgasm rippling through you. From deep inside your tummy, all the way through your spine, prompting your thighs to tremble on top of his.
What a stupid mistake; to lie down and let your eyes flutter closed right after coming. You weren't even sure when you drifted off, your laptop barely shut, still resting by your side. Namjoon came into your bedroom to check on you, tuck you in and turn off the light, as he'd done a hundred of times before.
The website on the screen caught his eye.
Dreams were safe; reality was different. No one was ever supposed to see this side of you. Especially not the man whose name was stamped all over the walls of the private, forbidden rooms that took up the space in your head. Not the man you looked up to, respectable and smart, all warmth and dimpled smiles, with such deep, kind eyes behind his pristine glasses.
Not Namjoon.
"Fuck," he cursed softly, one arm curled around your waist, grounding you. "That's it..."
Hips stilling, you attempted to catch your breath. Dizziness washed over you. You've never felt this good before; and perhaps a part of the reason why was that you were doing something very bad. The thought of your mother coming home still lingered at the back of your mind — no longer an imminent threat, the bullet dissolving in the haze of the bliss, though its existing chill persisted.
This would be quite a sight for the poor woman to witness; her husband's fingers buried deep in her only daughter's cunt, legs spread wide open on his lap. The lewd porn playing on your laptop only served as the final nail in the coffin.
You winced as Namjoon slipped out of you gently, disoriented. Your legs felt like jelly, but his hold on you was secure, your only safety net.
He stood up, lifting you with him. He didn't try to lead you back to your bed, instead placing a large palm on the small of your back and pushing forward.
You let your cheek rest on the cold surface of the desk, trying to ignore the dirty sounds of sex coming from the screen. Maybe it was the emotions muddling your brain, but you couldn't move, helpless as an animal with their leg caught in a trap.
In spite of the carelessness on your part, you've never imagined Namjoon reacting this way. You'd thought he would have been disgusted, concerned — embarrassed at the very least — and the topic would never be brought up.
Yet here he was, unzipping his pants, about to fuck you on the same desk you occupied to complete your homework every night. In the same room that used to be adorned in plushies and fairy lights, saturated with all of your innocence.
It was different than any taboo feeling or thought you might have entertained in secret; the forbidden fruit no longer a fantasy, but a sin weighing down on the palm of your hand, ripe for the tasting. Its only price was being cast out.
Namjoon caressed your ass, the foreign sensation causing more slick to dribble down the apex of your thighs.
"Such a good slut," he breathed.
The word whipped through you, leaving your skin stinging and lungs emptied of air. He hasn't addressed you with anything but respect before; in fact, you didn't think you've ever heard him use such vulgar language.
You clenched, as though the degradation chipped away at your brain, dumbed it down to a blissful void.
"No," you whined out in protest; of what, you weren't sure anymore.
You felt his hand lock around your wrists.
"Yeah, you are," he cooed. "You're my little toy, and toys get played with. I may be too old for that..." he slid your underwear down your thighs, "but you're not, are you, baby?"
A shiver ran through you, arousal mingling with a tinge of fear the moment he leaned over you, his chest resting firm against your back.
"Don't you want daddy to play with you?" He whispered, flooding your nape with goosebumps. "Seems to me that you do."
This wasn't the Namjoon you've grown to know; this was something different, sinful and ravenous. The rattle of the cage was nothing compared to it being set loose, claiming ownership over you, corrupting and consuming.
But you were wetter than ever, slick flowing like honey and coating the heated, swollen tip of his cock as soon as it pressed against you.
Namjoon was faring no better; his collar open and tie loosened, shirt wrinkled with the memory of your fingers grasping at it. All of his self restraint was gone, the cracked lock broken and the dented cage empty.
You did that.
He had a wife, a job, a good reputation. He worked hard to achieve success, however, the path laid out before him has always looked rather bleak without you in the picture.
And any doubts that troubled him in the past went up in the flames the moment he peeked at your laptop. Of course it was him you longed for, his cock you needed in your little pussy. You were daddy's perfect little girl, all too aware of your purpose. To be ruined and loved and owned by him.
His hand encased your neck, a grip that instantly made your head tingle. He pulled you up, letting you sink into his chest. His breath tickled your ear, and the girthy cockhead pushed against your slit once more, leaking.
"Why are you shaking, baby?" he inquired, sliding his free hand up your stomach. Palm wide open, only to close around your breast and squeeze. "Isn't this what you wanted?"
No. Yes? No. It was so wrong. You shook your head, like that would change anything; turn back time, conceal the truth, get you out of trouble.
Namjoon chuckled.
"It is," he husked, plush lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He moved his hips, rubbing himself against your nub teasingly. "You wanted daddy's cock, just like all these dirty girls on screen."
He eased his hold on your throat, but his hand remained around it; a reminder that he was in control.
Your head was swimming as more oxygen rushed in, but it made almost no difference. His words, his touch, they had a hold on you too, squeezing your lungs, making your clit throb beneath his touch.
"Wanted to be mine..." his tone mellowed out to silk, seductive and light. "Wanted to be my pretty, little angel, and take it behind mummy's back, hm?"
Eyes teary and barely open, you gasped.
"Even better if I just make you take it, right? You won't have to feel so guilty, and you can still slobber and cream all over it."
Your knees were close to giving out, wetness gushing obscenely onto his thick length. As if he could sense it, Namjoon tightened his arm around you, lifting a hand to wipe away the tears that fell.
"Oh sweetheart," he shushed, "see? Daddy knows what you need. Your eyes are wet, but your pussy is wetter. Bet it's tight, too. Tighter than your mother's."
He palmed his cock, at last positioning it back at your small entrance.
"Not that I ever wanted hers anyway."
It seemed your soul left your body the moment he sank in, and he swallowed all of it with his kiss. Any remnants of your thoughts, integrity or coherence; all swiped away with the lick of his tongue and the delicious stretch that left your cunt clenching and insides churning.
The noise he let out sent a thrill through you. He broke the kiss, broke you, his gleaming eyes hooded and adoring, staring deep into yours. Time seemed to fizzle out of existence.
Then he thrusted.
"Fucking whore."
A croaky whisper, followed by a moan you barely recognized as your own.
"I tried to stay away, but my baby just had to be a fucking whore. Couldn't help wanting daddy to rape her."
You shuddered, breath caught in your throat and hand clutching his bicep.
There was no going back, and at this point, it didn't matter. At this point, exposed and full of him, you ached for more; and like a good dad, Namjoon was there to cater to your needs.
He pulled out, only to slide back inside the velvety heat, pleasure bursting and simmering through. No more teasing; just shivers, and long, deep strokes that made his balls slap against your skin.
His breath fanned your neck, unsteady, edged with soft groans. He barely fit inside you, but your pussy took him so well, as though it was always meant to be his.
The way he fucked you drowned out whatever porn was still playing on your laptop, long forgotten, nothing compared to the depravity happening right in front of it. He pounded into you harder, keeping a steady pace. The desk began to thud, repeatedly hitting the wall behind it.
"Like that?" He mumbled into your cheek, his thumb lazily rubbing your stiff nipple. "Right there?"
He required no verbal answer. Not when you were so soft and pliant in his arms, the rush taking over. Still, he enjoyed the way you squirmed at the questions, eyes closed and luscious lips wide open, making the most heavenly little sounds.
He wasn't going to last; there was no time to waste, besides, the simple fact that your warm, wet hole was taking his cock — raw — was enough to push him close to the edge.
Desperate, he took a hold of your jaw and turned your face towards him. His lips were an inch away from yours, the intimacy of it tender and aching, like a bruise.
"Say, 'thank you, daddy,'" he murmured. '"Thank you for fucking my tight, little cunt.'"
You responded with a mewl, your muscles tensing along with the knot in your tummy.
"Gonna—"
Namjoon groaned. Too out of breath to finish the sentence, too fucked out, you let yourself go limp as he pummeled into you.
"Come?" He suggested, wanting to laugh at how quickly you nodded, but your walls were getting so tight only a moan came out. "Fuck. Good girl, making daddy so proud." His forehead touched yours, as if he could get any closer. "You deserve a reward."
The moment you clamped down on him, he muffled the cry that broke through with his lips, crashing them into yours. He kissed you hungrily, tongue and teeth, reaching the peak of his limit as your cunt quivered, effortlessly massaging his cock with the convulsions. He couldn't resist its pull sucking him in, trapping him in place to do what it was made for.
He groaned loudly, letting his seed spill as deep as it would go, letting you see stars right there on the ceiling; like the glowing stickers he used to put up there for you, just an old father and daughter tradition. Your eyes rolled back, and it had him gritting his teeth, grinding into you until you couldn't stand, and his own legs barely kept him up anymore.
He panted softly, gulping as you melted into him, both of his arms hugging your waist. Slowly, the heat was receding, and in its stead serenity crept in.
It was quiet when he washed you up, his hands gentle, wiping the mess in between your thighs and the sweat off your brow. Dressed in a clean shirt and underwear, you climbed under your blanket. Beyond sleepy and sated, your heart still felt heavy.
The edge of the mattress dipped as Namjoon sat down beside you, extending his arm to cup your cheek. Only then did he meet your eyes.
"I love you."
He's said it to you before, but it felt different now. It was different. And it made him hesitate, reduced his voice to a whisper.
"You're the best thing... that's ever happened to me. That's never gonna change. You know that, right?"
You nodded, wondering how in such a messed up situation a few words could feel so comforting. Perhaps it was because they were coming from him. Would that always be enough? Will it feel the same when you wake up in the morning?
Namjoon bent down to press a lingering kiss onto your temple, coaxing your eyes to shut.
"Don't worry about anything, okay? Just trust me, baby. And get some rest."
You relaxed, acknowledging the request with a small sigh. He watched you fall asleep, stroking your hair, trying not to dwell on how much he wished he could stay. At least he'd be able to get into bed before his wife came home.
In the darkness of his bedroom, he settled into the cool sheets, his glasses set aside and clothes neatly folded. He heard the front door unlock, the keys jiggling, and closed his eyes.
Time to sleep.
Time for a change of plans was awaiting him tomorrow.
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ateliersss · 8 months
Text
He Will Come
Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: You were caught three days after you and your son's arrival on earth by an organization called Project Stargazer. Now you both were treated like guinea pigs. No wonder, considering said son was a hybrid of human and Yautja. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 4,126
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You had been stupid, so stupid. You should have listened to Mi'ytiar, should have listened to him when he told you to stay on the ship during your stay on earth while your son went hunting. You had insisted on coming with him, as you desperately wanted to see your home planet again.
Not that you missed it. You loved Mi'ytiar, loved to be his mate, loved your life with him, your son and the new life you had on Yautja Prime.
You had just wanted to get out of the ship, get some fresh air, and see the full moon, which you couldn't see in your new home, when you suddenly were surrounded by soldiers. You didn’t even think about defending yourself, not in your condition. You had let it happen when they grabbed you and put you roughly in one of the black SUVs.
So many questions swirled around in your mind — how did they found you? What about the ship? What did they want with you? Would they hurt you? And what about Akail? Was he hurt?
You hadn’t dared to ask the armed men who were in the car with you. They all had looked at you with different emotions on their faces — disgust, curiosity, anger. One of them wore a grin that made your skin crawl.
When they arrived at their base, you were dragged through many corridors and were examined by — and you thanked God for that — female doctors. They took your blood, forced your into a strange suit, and put you into a completely white room.
Now you sat in a corner, huddled together. The door was in the middle of the wall on the other side of the room. A camera hung in the corner across from you from the ceiling and had an overview of the entire room. It reminded you of an interrogation room with windows to the left and right of the door, which looked like a mirror from the inside but allowed a glimpse into the room from the outside. A table and two chairs were standing in the middle.
You had pulled your legs to your chest as much as your swollen belly would allow, and your head leaned sideways against the wall.
It’s gonna be okay, you thought to yourself, everything’s gonna be fine.
You didn't know if you were trying to calm yourself down or your pup, who could sense your agitation and responded to you with kicking. You sat up straight in a cross-legged position, wrapped your arms protectively around your belly and caressed it soothingly.
Don’t worry, little one. Your daddy will get us out of here, he and your mei’hswei. We’ll be home soon. We can’t wait to meet you.
Not far from you, Sean Keyes greeted Casey Bracket. “There you are!” He said as soon as Casey stepped out of the elevator. “Welcome, I–“
Before he could continue, Casey walked straight past him to look at the two metal helmets and something that looked like a gun, everything displayed behind thick glass. None of it was human.
“Alien technology… Is that what you wanted me to see?” Casey's eyes wandered to the other showcases that displayed more weapons and equipment. “Can I take a better look at it?”
“Ahh.” Sean laughed, “But you haven’t even seen the main attraction.”
Casey tore her gaze from an interesting looking spear engraved with intriguing carvings and looked up at Sean. He had climbed the few steps that led to a glass wall overlooking a mix of operating room and laboratory and gestured with his head for her to follow him.
Quickly joining him, they both looked down and into the room. It was occupied by many people who, from their appearance, were scientists. There were guards, eight in total, guarding all four doors. Screens hung on the walls and desks carried computers and strange gadgets.
The only thing that got Casey’s complete attention was the table in the middle of the room and especially what was on it.
“Doctor Bracket.”
Casey looked away from the creature and at the man who had spoken to her.
“Would you like to meet the Predator?”
Yes, that’s exactly what she wanted.
Still processing what she had just seen, she followed Sean Keyes into the decontamination chamber. She was giving a suit that looked similar to the ones the scientists were wearing in the laboratory. The decontamination process didn't take long and she quickly slipped into the suit.
“Thanks for coming.” The dark-skinned man, Will Traeger, said to Casey as soon as the lab door opened and shook her hand. “I’m sure you have questions.”
“If I’m honest, only two.” Casey answered and followed the man down the stairs. “Why do you call it the Predator?”
They came to a halt in front of the table the creature was lying on.
“It’s a nickname. You know, the data suggests that it tracks its prey, exploits weakness. It seems to, well, enjoy it. It’s like a game.”
“That’s not a Predator. That’s a sports hunter.”
“Sorry?”
“A Predator kills its prey to survive. I mean, what you’re describing is more like a bass fisherman.” Casey simply answered, taking a step closer to the table.
“Well, we took a vote. Predator sounds cooler, right?” Will laughed and received approval from the surrounding scientists. “We found him, then his ship and more. He’s heavily sedated.”
She noticed that even unconscious, he was making a sound that closely resembled a cat's purring.
Casey had long stopped listening to him. She was completely absorbed by the creature, or Predator, taking in every inch of it. The physique indicated that it was a male. His height had to be around 7 feet. He had greenish skin that resembled reptilian-like scales. Its head was big and oval in shape. Instead of hair, what appeared to be dreadlocks grew out of it. His mandibles were the most eye-catching feature about him.
Could they be used for defense? And how did the food intake work?
“You are one beautiful motherfucker.” She finally said.
“I’m gonna guess your second question is why you’re here.”
Casey looked up to Will and signaled him with a nod to continue.
“Our test results yielded something a little… odd.”
Sean, standing next to Casey, handed her a device. She looked back and forth between the two men before accepting it. The screen showed a more complex DNA structure than that of a human, without a doubt that of the Predator.
“Is this a joke?” She questioned in disbelief.
“We ran the genome sequence ten times. This specimen has–“
“–human DNA.” Casey finished stunned.
“Yeah.” Will nodded, “Look, we know about spontaneous speciation. Mostly plants and insects but–“
“But some mammals. The Red Wolf, for example, a hybrid of the coyote and the grey wolf.” Sean interrupted him this time.
“It’s possibly some form of recombinant technology.” Will added.
“I get it. You want to know if someone fucked an alien.” Casey summed it up, finally knowing her purpose here.
“Not necessarily.”
Casey looked questioningly at Will. "Meaning?"
“Meaning, we have a rough idea. We would just like to know the detailed procedure.”
Casey's eyes widened and she looked at him in bewilderment. “You don't seriously expect a woman to procreate with that thing. There's no way that–“
“Oh, there is no need for that.” Sean assured her, “His equipment led us to his ship. We found it, but not only that.” He turned to the largest screen in the room and nodded to a man who started typing on his computer and turned the screen on. It showed some kind of interrogation room.
It wasn't long before Casey spotted a woman sitting cross-legged on the floor, slowly rocking back and forth.
“Are you trying to tell me that this is…”
“His mother, yes.” Will confirmed her thought. “His DNA matches with hers. Even through the father’s genetic heritage is more dominant than hers, you can still see differences between this one–“ He nodded to unconscious alien, “–and a homozygous Predator.”
“Wow indeed. And not only that, her human DNA has been altered to resemble that of the Predator.”
“Wow.” Casey mumbled and returned her gaze to the screen.
The woman now walked in circles through the room, stroking — and the biologist had to do a double take — her growing stomach.
Holy hell, she was pregnant!
Casey watched her mouth moving, so either she was singing or talking to the baby.
“We believe it’s a kind of adaptation to the living conditions of his home planet.” Sean started, “According to the blood tests, and we did several because we didn't want to believe the results, this woman is 73 years old, although she looks to be in her mid-20s.”
Casey’s mouth fell open, her heart pounding against her rib cage. “I want to meet her.”
He nodded and smiled at her. “That was the plan. No one has spoken to her yet, not even the nurse who brought her food or was taking her to the bathroom.”
“While science can answer many questions and give us great insight into our being, there are still things that remain unanswered.” Will added, "We don't know when she left Earth or how it was possible for her to reproduce with an alien. We don't know how her DNA changed, and because of that, we don't even know who she is.”
Casey nodded. “And you want me to get the answers to those questions from her?”
“Indeed.”
Casey was watching you through the one-way window. You were still pacing, one hand supporting your back and the other stroking your stomach in a circular motion. Even though you seemed nervous and scared, you also looked like a proud lioness ready to attack to protect her baby.
“Ready?” Sean asked.
Casey looked briefly at him and nodded.
“Great. We will wait here to watch and listen. In her condition I doubt she will attempt anything for the sake of her child, but if she does it will only take a second and security will rush the room.”
“Good to know.” She mumbled before heading to the door.
With a deep breath, she pushed down the door handle.
You caught that movement in the corner of your eye and turned to the intruder. “What have you done to him?!” You immediately demanded hysterically, growling at her like a wild animal. “Where did you take him? Where did you take my son?”
It was good that Casey was the first to speak to you. Probably no one out there had the slightest decency to treat you like a real person and would have strapped you to a table, too, careless of harm to you or your child.
“They took him to a lab and are holding him there. Nobody hurt him, I swear it.” Casey said, raising her hands to show you she meant no harm. “They just want to know more about him and his kind and why he is here, that’s all.”
You stared at her, softly caressing your belly as you pondered her words.
When there was no reply, Casey continued, “I just want to talk to you. We want to know how you… why you…”
“Why I got knocked up by an alien?” You suggested bluntly.
Casey nodded. “Yes. It’s practically unthinkable to come across an alien hybrid and its mother.”
“Where I went after his father took me from Earth, it’s more of a rarity than unthinkable.”
Casey took a step forward and hastily asked, “Do you mean you're not the only one? Are there other humans who procreate with them? Are they also studying hybrids and their traits?”
You laughed at her eagerness and walked over to the chair closest to you, sitting down on it. You waved your hand at Casey to do the same, as if you were hinting you were going to cooperate to answer her questions. The biologist glanced back over her shoulder at the reflective window where Sean and Will were watching the conversation. She sat down in the chair opposite of you and looked at you expectantly.
“Before I say another word, I want to see that my son is okay.” You demanded, trying to suppress the tremor in your voice, the very first sign of weakness.
Casey turned back to the windows and waited for someone to come through the door. Instead, the reflective surfaces of the windows turned into screens showing one and the same image — the captured Predator, still tied to the table and asleep.
There was a whimper coming from behind her. When she turned back, she saw tears building up in your eyes and one hand pressed to your mouth. It was surreal to Casey for a human having such an emotional reaction for an alien creature. On the other hand, this was his mother, unbelievable and absurd as it may seem.
You seemed to calm down, your eyes still fixed on the screen. You nodded to yourself before tearing your eyes away to look at Casey. The windows had returned to its normal state.
“We’re going to start with some easy questions, okay?”
You nodded again.
“Great. First I would like to know your name.”
“(Y/N) (L/N).” You answered.
“Would it be okay if I call you (Y/N)?”
“I would appreciate it.” You said, “It's a nice change from all the other names I've gotten so far.”
“What do you mean?” Casey inquired.
“Alien fucker. Alien whore. Desperate little bitch who thought a man’s dick isn’t enough for her. Nothing I didn't expect from men.” You shrugged, “It just proves once again that Yautja males treat their females with far more respect and honor than a human male could ever comprehend.”
“Yautja?” Casey asked, leaning forward, arms crossed on the tabletop.
“You call them Predator, but their kind is actually called Yautja.” You explained.
Casey nodded and started to play with her fingers, her next question burning on her tongue. “How did you get into this whole thing? How did you get in contact with them?”
You huffed. “It’s quite ironic, you know. On the contrary what you may have expected, he saved me.”
“Saved you from what?”
“Again, men. Three of them. They had cornered me, kept groping me, pulled on my clothes…” You had to pause for a second.
Almost 50 years ago, you had been afraid when Mi'ytiar had taken you from Earth to bring you to Yautja Prime. But looking back, that fear hadn't been as great as what you felt at the thought of what those men would have done to you if he hadn't intervened.
“He protected me from those monsters… my own kind.”
You let out a humorless laugh. “Yautja take their prey as a trophy after each successful hunt. Not only did he rip their heads off and their spines out, he also took me. I expected him to hurt me, to keep me as a slave, or... or to do what these men wanted to do to me. I found out later that I was really lucky that he, of all other Yautja, rescued me. It's incredibly rare that one of them takes an interest in a human being. Usually, they kill every last of them. Humans are too weak and too soft, but that’s exactly what he loves about me. That’s why he kept me alive.”
You let out sigh, considering how much you should reveal about the Yautja culture.
“On the contrary to me, a Yautja female is rough and large, even larger than a male. After all, they are the ones who carry their offspring and ensure the survival of their kind. The males have to fight for dominance and if the male wins, the female deems him worthy enough for mating and submits.”
Casey shifted in her seat. “Did you… Did he expect the same from you? Did he force you into submission to…?”
“Never.” You growled protectively, “He never forced himself onto me. Never. He was more patient and understanding than all the human males I ever met in my life. He treated me like I was the most precious thing he has ever seen. Never did he touch me without my permission.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Casey soothed you.
She had to be more careful and had to see this whole situation through your eyes — you were separated from your son and held at a facility who was examining you both while you had to worry about your unborn baby.
“Do you want to tell me about your relationship with him? Your, uhm…”
“He is my mate. My Life Mate.”
“Life Mate?”
“Female Yautja can mate with multiple males and give birth to their children, but some also choose a permanent mate. You could compare it to one-night-stands and marriage, only you can't divorce. It's not called Life Mate for nothing. You are bonded to each other for the rest of your life and they live for hundreds of years.”
“Can I know the name of your Life Mate?”
You eyed Casey briefly, looked over her shoulder at the reflective windows then at the camera in the corner and then back at her. “His name is Mi'ytiar. He is the leader of his clan.”
Casey sat up straight. “They live in clans? Like wolves in packs or horses in herds?”
You nodded. “With similar hierarchy dynamics, yes. There are many clans on their home planet, each living peacefully on their own. Sometimes clans visit each other, hunt together, celebrate together. That's how I found out that I'm not the only human on this planet.” You said, “But apparently I’m the only one who mated a clan leader. Most of them are expected to have a strong successor to take after them and Mi'ytiar, of all Yautja, chose a weak little human to bear his pups.”
Jackpot, Casey thought.
She finally got to the part that intrigued her the most — how was it humanly possible that you got pregnant, how was it possible for you to carry the child of an alien, and how did it not kill you?
“Since Mi'ytiar has fully committed himself to me, it was up to me to bear his offspring. The Yautja of his clan never dared to say anything. I’m the clan leader's mate, after all. But I noticed it in the way they treated me and looked at me. They knew it wasn’t possible for me to carry his children.” You looked down at your baby bump and returned to caress it. It seemed to keep you calm.
“At that point, that fact made me really upset. I got to know their culture, learned everything there was to know about them. I even started learning their language. I fulfill any task assigned to a clan leader's mate. I make my mate happy and proud. But I couldn’t give him a child.”
You looked up and into Casey’s eyes.
“Mi'ytiar is very attentive and he soon noticed that something was upsetting me. Apparently he was the only one who hadn't thought about his offspring at all.” You paused for a second to smile, remembering his reaction when he found out that you wanted to carry his pups. “The second he knew he wanted to keep me around when he took me away from Earth, he injected me with his blood. No matter how many times I've been called fragile and puny, the human immune system can sometimes work wonders. His blood had slowed down my aging and allowed me to survive on his planet. So we visited a healer to finalize my life as his Life Mate.”
Your cheeks flushed as you thought of how Mi'ytiar hadn't hesitated another second to make sure you got pregnant. You had spent several days in your bed, or nest as he called it, and there had been hardly a moment when he wasn't inside you. The thought of his beautiful mate, his love, carrying his pup in her belly had made him feral.
It hadn't been long before his seed took. The other Yautja had a satisfied reaction when they saw that their leader was about to become a father. Also, they finally treated you like a part of the clan. You had fully proved yourself, proved you could provide for the clan. You were finally one of them.
Akail's birth was hard. It felt like he was tearing you apart from the inside out. But thanks to the injections of his blood and the additional help of the tribal healer, your body strengthened enough that you didn't die, even though it felt like it. You were crying and smiling, with your mate at your side, holding your little bundle of joy in your arms.
He looked just like his father, no indication that his mother was human. However, his animalistic features were a little softer, difficult to recognize unless you were the mother. While you are being tended to, Mi'ytiar took his son in his arms to proudly introduce him to his clan.
Fondly, you thought back to one moment, a core memory — Mi'ytiar, lying on his side with you snuggled against him, both naked and partly covered in fur, and little Akail, just ten hours old, resting on your chest. At that point you were so incredibly happy.
It sounded weird and absurd that this was your life and no human would understand, but you would never trade it for anything.
“What’s the catch?” Casey asked after a while of watching you quietly stroking your belly.
“Huh?” You looked up.
“I don't think you're telling us all this without an ulterior motive. So what’s the catch?”
“I want to quench your thirst for scientific knowledge and in return, I hope you will release me and my son. There is no need to keep us here.”
Casey started to rock back and forth in her chair. “I don’t think that will be possible. There are still things that we–“
“Listen, I have cooperated in the hope we will be released when all your questions are answered. You won’t like what will happen if we are not soon to be freed.”
Casey glanced over her shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time, unsure of what to do or what to say.
“I promised him to contact him every day, you know. My mate.” You said, pride permeating your body. “And do you know what it will tell him? The silence?” Your question was obviously rhetorical. “It will tell him that something happened to me and therefore also to his son, because Akail would rather die fighting for his mother and Mi'ytiar knows that.”
Casey gulped. The threat was clear as the day.
“He will come and not alone. Do you really think you stand a chance against them?” You laughed, now more confident. “The human nature is arrogant, thinking they are superior to everyone. Eventually that will be the reason for your extinction. Your haughty stupidity will be the death of you.”
“(Y/N)–” Casey tried, but she was interrupted.
“No, you will listen to me just like you've been doing for half an hour now. I have lived among them for decades. I learned from them, I’m one of them. Stand between a Yautja and their Life Mate and it will end deadly for you. Stand between a Yautja and their Life Mate who’s pregnant and I promise you, you will beg for them to kill you.”
“(Y/N), there is nothing in my power to help you. I was simply asked here as an expert to examine this Yautja… your son. I can’t–”
“You will. And I'm not just talking to you in this case.” Your eyes wandered from her face to the windows and nodded to the people you assumed to be standing behind the glass, watching you. “I’m talking to them, the ones who have the power. Set me and my son free and I promise you nothing will happen to any of you.”
Suddenly, a blaring alarm sounded, startling both Casey and you.
Instinctively, you wrapped an arm around your stomach in a protective manner.
“Code Red. Subject Predator is on the loose.”
A shuddering sigh of relief left your lips as you slowly began to smile. You knew they couldn’t keep Akail immobilized for long.
One of the things he had in common with his father was that he was just as protective over you as he was. He would come to look for you.
Casey had already jumped out of her chair and was talking frantically to the people on the other side of the one-sided window.
You began to talk to your pup again, “Your mei'hswei is coming, sweetling. Soon the three of us will be back with daddy.”
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continue with the second part He Is Here.
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thvlouvre · 9 months
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[Teaser]
The Bodyguard — Min Yoongi
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✔︎ Summary: Your loyal and committed bodyguard who sometimes spends more hours a day of what you pay him sticking beside you starts to catch feelings for you. ✔︎ Trope: Yandere bodyguard x popstar female reader ✔︎ Warnings: yandere behaviour, over protection, possessiveness, smut, grooming, dom! yoongi, sub! reader, bratty! reader ✔︎ thvlouvre's note: THIS IS TOTALLY BASED ON WHITNEY'S THE BODYGUARD, YES! This one will definitely come after the persephone fic, I promise 😭 I just need to know if you like the idea of an overprotective yoongi taking care of the bratty pop star who needs to be settle down. He is also hiding his dark past and trying to have a seconds chance in life 🙊 ✔︎ MY MASTERLIST.
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The darkness of your living room surrounded Yoongi's exhausted silhouette. For a strange reason, being in your hall where pictures of you, magazine covers, platinum discs, awards and posters with your face gave him peace.
He could find himself losing his gaze on the Vogue Magazine cover poster you had hanging from your wall for hours. He would read every inscription of your awards and memorize the year, the category and the ceremony they gave them to you. He also had seen every picture you had, because you were the most egocentric little brat that he had ever met, of course you would have a million pictures of you everywhere; if he was half as beautiful as you he would be worst.
But his top activity he loved to do in your living room when no one was watching, when you would be peacefully sleeping was to turn on your TV and watch you on it. He would play all, music videos, live performances, live sessions, whatever. The only thing he wanted was to keep himself awake so he could protect you, and your voice was a vitamin shot.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, turning on the screen and trying to choose what video play first. He recently loved the performance where you were simply standing in the middle of the stage with a white sparkling dress and a mic stand. No backup dancers, no bizarre lights or difficult choreographies, just you shining alone.
He couldn't explain to himself why he found peace at watch you sing, when on daytime you and him were always trying to gouge out each other's eyes. You had a not so peaceful personality, you were annoying and childish as fuck and he was dry and stiff. You were always losing yourself on parties, getting drunk and forgetting the normal rules of decent human behaviour and he was always behind you, ready to take you out before you could do something stupid.
He never thought he would end up like this, carrying the shopping bags of a stargirl after a five hour marathon at the boutique. He used to have a dangerous and exciting job, he used to have a family, not a blood related family, but a society that would care for him. He had to make a choice to save himself and now there he was, drinking cold whiskey in your pink couch, watching you sing.
He thought you didn't know, that you haven't noticed how he sneaks out of his dorm and go to your living room where he plays your videos, but you had. You noticed it almost from the beginning and you found it so endearing.
That's why you enjoyed making him mad on daytime, because deep down you knew he had a weakness for you. You started to use more revealing clothes in front of him, you would ask him to help you with your sunscreen on your back, you would tease him every time you could.
You would make him fall; but Yoongi knew he had already fallen.
And he would risk his life in a heartbeat to save your silly and bratty existence, and he would hurt anybody who dared to touch his stargirl.
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✔︎ thvlouvre's p.s. this is unedited and a midnight impulse, I have to work in six hours so wish me luck everybody 😗✌🏻 remember english is not my first language so be kind and stream min yoongi 💋
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stevenrogered · 1 year
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SHADOW AND BONE  ↳book > screen
“You were children. Was there no one to protect you?” “Was there anyone to protect you?” She paused behind him. “You protected me, Kaz.” “The fact that you’re bleeding through your bandages tells me otherwise.”
She glanced down. A red blossom of blood had spread on the bandage tied around her shoulder. She tugged awkwardly at the strip of towel. “I need Nina to fix this one.” He didn’t mean to say it. He meant to let her go. “I can help you.”
He was so close now. His mind took in the shell of her ear, the hair tucked behind it, that rapid pulse fluttering in her throat. Alive, alive, alive.
After all she’d endured, he was the weak one. But she would never know what it was like for him to see Nina pull her close, watch Jesper loop his arm through hers, what it was to stand in doorways and against walls and know he could never draw nearer. But I’m here now, he thought wildly. He had carried her, fought beside her, spent whole nights next to her, both of them on their bellies, peering through a long glass, watching some warehouse or merch’s mansion. This was nothing like that. He was sick and frightened, his body slick with sweat, but he was here. He watched that pulse, evidence of her heart, matching his own beat for anxious beat. He saw the damp curve of her neck, the gleam of her brown skin. He wanted to…He wanted. -Crooked Kingdom
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reiding-writing · 3 months
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may i request getting stuck in an elevator with early season Spence after hours at the BAU and the lights go out and obviously him being terrified of the dark he starts panicking and reader has to comfort him until he eventually explains his fear of the dark in relation to something happening in his childhood. just some angst and hurt/comfort ig? I live and breathe your content <3
malfunction [ s.r ]
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Summary:
You and Spencer end up staying late to finish some paperwork after a case, when you finally vacate into the elevator to leave it breaks down, revealing some secrets harboured by both of you and strengthening your relationship in the process.
WARNINGS: claustrophobia, nyctophobia, arachnophobia, mentions of spencer’s bullying
pairing: s1!spencer x gn!reader
genre: hurt/comfort
wc: 3.2k
masterlist!!
a/n: glad i’ve curated an audience of angst and hurt/comfort enjoyers <33
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It was late.
12:06AM to be exact.
Silence riddled the bullpen, making the usually bustling office stand completely still.
You might’ve found it a little disturbing if not for Spencer sat a few desks down from you, his mere presence stopping your mind from running rampant with irrational fears of ghosts or demons that might lurk in the dark corners of the room.
It was a little stupid sure, your lanky book-genius of a coworker held no chance of being able to physically protect you from whatever your brain could conjure up, but the mind works in wonderous ways, and he offered you an unintentional blanket of security nonetheless.
You could hear the loose papers of his files rustle as he closed the manilla folder, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses with a sigh.
Looks like Spencer was done for the night. And by that logic, so were you.
You mirror Spencer as you shut your file, packing it away in your messenger bag and tucking your chair under your desk as you stand, the two of you silently acknowledging each other’s presence as you reach the elevator.
You could practically feel the fatigue surrounding the both of you as you stepped inside, your tiredness bouncing off each other and making you more desperate to crawl into bed and knock out for the night.
It didn’t last for very long.
A loud clunking sound echoed through the metal walls of the elevator, followed by it jolting to a stop, and you had to grip onto the metal bar lining the wall so you didn’t lose your balance.
Your eyes turn first to the small screen above the door, flickering between the numbers 2 and 3 as if it can’t decide what floor you’re currently on.
Then they turn to Spencer.
Spencer's breathing is uneven and his body tense, eyes darting around the tiny enclosed space with a distinct air of panic.
“Reid? Are you alright?” You raise an eyebrow at him, your expression a mix of curiosity and concern.
"N-No, no! I am not alright! This is my worst nightmare come to life." Spencer presses himself against the far wall, as if plastering himself to it will make him part of the elevator and therefore unable to be injured if something goes wrong.
“You do know how unlikely it is to actually get any sort of injury from an elevator accident right?”
"One out of ten point five million. I know that. But this isn't about logic this is about fear." He turns away as he speaks, taking a few breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. "I'm-I'm claustrophobic. And this is not helping."
“Okay- okay- let’s just calm down for a second,” You hold up a hand in Spencer’s direction. You never took him as somebody to have irrational fears like this. You always figured that he’d just use his knowledge to rationalise what was happening and move on. Apparently not.
Spencer looks back at you and nods, taking in another deep breath.
“I'm trying. It's just-“ The elevator makes a rumbling sound that elicits what you can only classify as a whimper to leave his throat. “I can't do this. I can't be stuck in this tiny space for an unknown amount of time. I can't. I just can't. Please. Please, someone. Someone has to know we're in here. They have to.”
“Reid- Calm down.”
You let go of the bar you were holding onto to walk over to Spencer, placing your hands cautiously on his shoulders.
"I-I'm trying. I'm trying."
But he doesn't actually seem to be any better than he was before. His body is shaking, his breaths shaking and uneven.
He's getting very close to having a full blown panic attack.
“Sit down,” You push gently against his shoulders to encourage him to sit, following after him yourself to sit in front of him with your legs crossed underneath you.
Spencer lets out a trembling breath. "What if we die in here? What if no one comes? What if something goes wrong?"
“We’re going to be fine,”
You hold out a hand palm up in your lap as open invitation for him to take it if he needs to.“just take slow breaths Reid,”
"I-I'm trying." He looks down at your hand and almost reaches out for you, but hesitates before yanking his hand back.
He looks away and forces his breath to slow down again. "What if we're in here for hours?"
“Elevators have failsafes Reid, it’ll sort itself out don’t worry,”
Spencer takes a shuddered breath in through his nose, closing his eyes as he repeats your words in his head.
It’ll sort itself out. He doesn’t need to worry.
He meets your eyes with a small nod and you sigh, giving him a sympathetic smile that reassures him he’s going to be fine.
Unfortunately, all of your efforts to calm him down are quickly reversed as the lights cut out, sending the elevator into complete darkness.
His sudden blindness brings a startled cry from Spencer, his body instinctively trying to protect himself and in that split second of shock he grabs your hand.
He clutches at it tightly, eyes squeezed shut.
“Everything’s fine-“ You return his startled grip with a light squeeze of your own.
The grip around your hand feels firm and shaky but the contact helps to ground him, bringing some of his panic down a notch or two.
“It's not f-fine. It's dark. I don’t like the dark . I hate it.”
“You’re scared of the dark?” You sound more surprised than you mean to, and although you can’t pinpoint all of his features in the shadows, you’re sure you can see his eyebrows knit together.
“11% of the US adult population is afraid of the dark.” His tone carries an air of defensiveness through his fear, although he doesn’t seem offended enough at your comment to sacrifice the physical comfort that your hand is offering in his.
“Oh- no- I didn’t mean it as a bad thing-“ You shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you, tightening your hold on his hand as an offer of reassurance. “I just- didn’t see you as somebody to have a fear of the dark is all-“
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can hear the slight waver in his voice as he speaks, clearly trying to distract himself in your questions so he doesn’t have to think about his current situation.
You’d also wager he has his eyes shut, as ironic as it is.
“I just meant- you know- your brain rationalises everything so quickly that I figured you just wouldn’t have fears like this?”
He chuckles nervously, the sound echoing in the darkness. "Well, even the most rational minds have their quirks, I suppose. Fear doesn't always follow logic." The tension in his voice begins to ease, and he opens up a bit more.
“Is there a reason you have a fear of the dark?” You could understand his claustrophobia to a certain level, but nyctophobia wasn’t something very common in adults, especially ones who work as field agents for the FBI.
“I uh- it was just something that happened when I was younger, it’s stupid really-” Spencer skirts your question with a half-truth, not divulging any details of his seemingly irrational fear of the dark.
He shifts slightly, adjusting to find a more comfortable position on the floor, his hand tugging yours and in the process forcing you to change your seating position as well.
You squeeze his hand gently. "Do you wanna talk about it? People usually find it easier to rationalise their fears if they voice them to another person,” You use Spencer’s own intelligence against him in the hope that it’ll get him to open up.
As much as you had learned about him in the past two years, you still knew surprisingly little about Dr. Spencer Reid and his life outside of the office.
You knew all about his academics, how he liked his coffee with as much sugar as humanely possible, how under normal circumstances he would rather lick a toilet seat than shake someone’s hand.
But you didn’t really know him; And you figured this might be a good place to start.
“I… It’s not something I like to dwell on,” He tries to shut down your questioning once more, clearing his throat to try and rid of the lump that forms when he thinks back to the origins of his fears. “It’s not exactly a nice thing to remember,”
“I get that, some of my childhood memories aren’t the best either,” You let out a breath that could almost constitute as a laugh of exasperation. “But it might help, and i’m sure that just getting it off your chest will give you piece of mind nonetheless,”
You can hear Spencer take in a breath through his nose, and through the small adaptation your eyes had made to the darkness you could just barely see his lips purse into a line, debating whether or not to divulge his childhood to you.
It’s not like he didn’t trust you with it. Quite the opposite. He’d come to enjoy your presence over the time you’d spent working together.
You didn’t judge his intelligence, nor did you reduce him to it. You just saw him as another person and it was something that he was incredibly grateful for.
He knew you wouldn’t make fun of him if he told you, but he wasn’t worried about that. He was worried that you’d pity him.
That you’d treat him like some fragile object that would break if you spoke too loudly in its presence.
That’s something that he’d never want.
“I- don’t want you to think of me differently…” His voice was still laced with fear as he spoke, but this time it wasn’t a fear of the dark metal box he was trapped in; It was a fear of how your view of him would change.
“Reid…”
“I don’t want to be pitied or have people walk on eggshells for the sake of hurting my feelings…” You can practically feel his apprehension through the way his hand tenses in yours.
“Reid-“
“I’ve just managed to get people to treat me normally and I don’t want all of that to go down the drain-“
“Spencer.”
You can see his eyes snap upwards towards yours as you raise your voice, and you pull his left hand into your own to hold both of them in your lap, eyes chasing his in the darkness to maintain eye contact. “You’re human. Humans have fears and they have bad memories, and it’s not going to change anything about how I treat you.”
“Tell you what,” You give his hands a squeeze, leaning forwards slightly towards him to try and get a better look at his face. “I’ll tell you one of my childhood tragedies if you tell me yours, deal?”
He goes silent as he ponders your offer, ending with a small nod that you can only half see. “Okay…”
“Okay,” You return his nod with your own, running your thumbs over the backs of his hands. “So, i’ll go first,”
“When I was eight, my cousin thought it’d be a good idea to let his pet tarantula crawl all over my face whilst I was sleeping, and I woke up with it half in my mouth,” You practically shudder at the memory. “Needless to say I developed arachnophobia after that,”
You laugh breathily, shaking your head slightly. “It was not very fun,”
“Why would he do that?”
You shrug slightly, arms moving enough that he can feel it where your fingers connect. “He was a bit of a bully if i’m honest, but he’s matured since then thank god,”
“Are you- still afraid of spiders?” Spencer’s eyes practically shine in the darkness, big, round and glistening with curiosity as they scan your face from beneath his glasses.
“Promise not to make fun of me?” Your question is answer enough, but he still nods softly nonetheless. “I think they’re terrifying,”
“Almost 20% of the US population has arachnophobia, it’s a very common fear to have,”
“So is a fear of the dark,” You bring the conversation back to Spencer’s fear once more. “Willing to tell me its origin story yet?”
Spencer sighs, his shoulders slumping and his head leaning back against the wall of the elevator. “It’s-“ He exhales through his nose, his eyes diverting from yours to stare at your interconnected hands.
“When I was in school I was bullied a lot…” He purses his lips and you nod. As sad as it is you’re not exactly surprised.
Someone as insanely intelligent as him was unfortunately bound to be tormented by those who were academically inferior to him, it’s a by-product of jealousy.
“They uh… stripped me down and tied me to a goal post, and- then they just left me there-“ Spencer’s throat catches as he speaks, and you can see through the way his eyes flicker around that he’s replaying the memory in his head.
“I- managed to untie myself after a while, but I spent over an hour searching for all of my clothes and ended up walking home in the dark half dressed…” Spencer’s lip quivers as he reaches the end of his explanation.
“I don’t think i’ve ever been more scared in my life…”
“I’m so sorry they did that to you…” Your eyebrows furrow with sympathy, and you shift your hold on his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. “Nobody should have to experience that…”
Spencer exhales, and you can hear the shake in his breath. “I thought if I just buried it that i’d forget, but I still remember it like it happened yesterday…”
The curse of an eidetic memory you suppose. Destined to remember every detail of the worst experiences you’d ever had.
Although you’re sure that Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to have what happened to him burned into his brain.
“Spencer…”
“I’m sorry-“ Spencer shakes his head, attempting to pull his hands out of yours. “I told you it was stupid-“
“Hey. No.” You close your hands around his to stop him from pulling away. “That is in no way stupid at all.”
“You went through something awful and developed a fear because of it. That is the furthest thing from stupid Reid,”
“I just-”
You cut off Spencer’s attempt at a rebuttal with a pull of your hands in his, separating them only to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “No excuses.”
Spencer is stiff in your embrace, unsure of what exactly he should be doing. Should he hug you back? Should he pull away to regain his personal space?
He wasn’t exactly sure. He did however, feel like he was going to cry.
He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids, squeezing his eyes shut to stop them from falling down his face and hiding his face against the curve of your shoulder so that you wouldn’t be able to see the shadow of his expression.
God he was pathetic.
Sat in his coworkers embrace because he was scared of the goddamn dark.
On the verge of tears because of something that happened twelve years ago.
A twenty four year old man. A fully grown adult.
His shoulders begin to tremble as he thinks about it, and you can feel the way his breath catches in his throat as you bring your hand to the back of his head to hold him closer to you.
“This is pathetic i’m sorry…” He shakes his head against your shoulder, hindered slightly by the way his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose.
“Shhh,” You shake your head in tandem with his, leaning your cheek against the side of his head as you rub your hand over his back. “Don’t be silly,”
"You're not pathetic, Spencer," You reassure him, your voice gentle. "Everyone has their own fears and struggles. It takes strength to open up about them."
He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose himself. "I just never thought I'd be so affected by it for this long."
"Trauma doesn't have a set expiration date," you say softly. "It's okay to still be working through things. And you don't have to face it alone."
Spencer finally relaxes a bit in your embrace, allowing himself to accept the comfort you're offering. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice barely audible against the fabric of your shirt.
“No problem-“ You don’t finish your sentence before the lights come back on, causing you to squint from the sudden brightness.
The sudden light flooding the elevator exposes the position the two of you had found yourself in, your legs tangled together as Spencer sits in your embrace with your arms around his torso and his hands resting limply by your waist.
“See?” You pull his face away from your shoulder gently, leaning back to finally get a fully clear view of his face. “Nothing to worry about,”
“Yeah…” He nods softly, eyes still a little red from holding back his tears, and he sniffles as he pulls away from you properly when the elevator starts moving downwards again.
“Do you want a ride home?” Your invitation is obvious as you two of you pick yourselves up from the floor, your eyes silently encouraging him to accept your proposal.
“I-“ The elevator came to another halt, this time thankfully opening its doors on the ground for the two of you to leave.
He had his train ticket in his pocket, but he was willing to forget it for now.
“That would be great, thank you…”
“No problem Spencer, let’s get outta here,”
He tries to brush aside the way he feels when you call him by his first name, nodding softly with pursed lips.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here…”
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astaroth1357 · 1 year
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Demons in the Dark 
What if they have glow-in-the-dark eyes?
Contents: No warnings aside vague mentions of imminent danger. And bugs and snakes.
~♡♡♡~
Lucifer
Seeing Lucifer in a dark room is incredibly unsettling. You know those horror movies where the protagonist sees a pair of demonic eyes from shadows? You've found the inspiration.
His eyes burn with the color and intensity of molten glass and they that just loom ominously in the darkness, usually well above people's heads!
Lucifer knows exactly how haunting his eyes can look, which is why he prefers to sneak up on Mammon when it's dark and he's up to no good… 
The mental image of Lucifer's crimson eyes have long since burned their way into the secondborn's nightmares...
He tries his best not to scare MC with them, but it's undeniably unnerving to see disks of pure hellfire roaming around the kitchen looking for a glass of water…
Mammon
His eyes glow just the prettiest shade of gold you'll ever see. Think of a mound of ancient coins glinting away under a treasure hunter's torchlight.
Mammon knows full well how attention grabbing his eyes are, which is part of why he always wears sunglasses when out stealing. People can't see'em glow if they're all tinted up behind his frames!!
He's also pretty proud that his eyes don't give people nightmares like Lucifer's, but since they glow like little sundrops when he's out, moths fly into his face… a lot…
He is far too embarrassed to admit to MC that he also wears his sunglasses outside for bug protection, so he makes up some shit about it being part of "Devildom-style" they just wouldn't understand.
Sometimes, the MC swears that if they look close, his pupils look like Grimm signs. But has to be a trick of the light… Right?
Leviathan 
Levi's eyes glow a citrine orange but weirdly, his pupils actually slit instead of dilate in the dark.
Though he will never admit it, but he actually has pretty bad night vision in his normal form. (Which isn't that surprising given all of screens he stares at.)
It's a little comical watching Levi stumble around in the dark if he needs to go grab something. The MC can just follow his eyes as he smacks into a lot of walls…
His demon form can kind of make up for it, but only so much. If things get too dark, Levi can change into it so he can see his surroundings with the help of UV light.
"Snake Vision" makes the dark more manageable, but it's not very good for gaming at all so he rarely thinks to use it. Everybody knows that past a certain brightness in the room, don't expect Levi to be of much help.
Satan
Magically enchanted his eyes to look exactly like a green-eyed cat's in the dark. I'm dead serious.
Imagine just going about your business then two grown man-sized feline eyes pop out from behind a corner. They even have nocturnal eyeshine so feels like you're being hunted!
Sometimes he can't help himself and he'll sneak up on people with his eyes closed so he can open them over their shoulders or peeking around corners.
He has given the whole House about as many heart attacks as Lucifer has pulling those shenanigans, I swear…
Belphie is the only one generally unaffected and he always gets a big laugh from when Satan scares the others. The youngest boys just be like that, unfortunately...
Asmodeus 
His eyes look like a kaleidoscope in low light. Every slight tilt of his head makes them reflect a whole new wave of fractals and colors.
Asmo is just as aware as Mammon that his eyes are gorgeous, but unlike Mammon he wouldn't DARE cover them up!! Sunglasses are for sunny days, which they don't ever get down in Hell.
Asmo's eyes are integral to his charm spells, so he takes extra care to be sure that they are as healthy and bright as they can be! He won't even accept eyebags.
Seeing Asmo's eyes in the dark kind of like seeing a trippy optical illusion just... staring at you. It's less unnerving than the others but it's equally hard to ignore.
To this day, he brags that it was his eyes that caught Solomon's attention when they first met. (Solomon actually wanted to pluck them out to use as potion ingredients, but he'll let that stay a secret.)
Beelzebub
Beel's eyes are probably the most normal of all of the family unless you look at them suuuper closely.
In his normal form, his eyes will just glow a nice shade of purple with nothing fancy happening. But in his demon form, they get that glassy, compounded film akin to insects with his iris still trapped and moving around under the surface.
Thankfully, they do not bulge out of his skull. They even give him the ability to see and track objects in fast motion, which does wonders for his reaction time.
... Somewhat unfortunately, though, his line of sight is more narrow than an inscets so it can look like he's trying to look everywhere all at once to compensate. His eyes will constantly dart around the room as if he is trying to follow the flight pattern of a coked out fly.
At least he mostly only uses this during fights or sporting events where they really come in handy. Honestly, if there's anything more jarring than red eyes, it's stumbling across bug-eyes that they can practically see right through you.
Belphegor 
Belphie's eyes glow purple, but they don't shine nearly as brightly as his brothers'. In fact, they have a steady, calming pulse when stared at which is very unnerving.
Total darkness is really when Belphie gives off his best "sleep paralysis demon" vibes. His eyes are really relaxing to look at, but only in the same way that the little light on an angler fish would be enticing to its prey. It's a trap, don't fall for it.
Belphie CAN put people to sleep this way, but he hates doing it because it means he has to somehow not blink for ages. He really has to be motivated to want to see someone zonked out.
For a couple centuries, Mammon would send Belphie to talk to Lucifer if he was working too late in order to (compassionately) knock their brother out so he could get some rest.
Lucifer's since gotten wise to this trick, but sometimes if he's really been going too long he will forget until he wakes up on the nearest couch post Belphie "convincing" him to take a nap.
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mvniro · 3 months
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. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 SPREAD YOUR WINGS TO TAKE POSSESSION OF WHAT'S YOUR'S ; a fyodor dostoyevsky fic.❞
˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . holy shit i need to make an actual smut comeback. :/ @averagebsdenjoyer give your kids now.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; politician!fyodor, fem!reader, escort!reader, exstripper!reader, nsfw, boob biting, breast fucking, angst in some way and yeah that all i remember.
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sin and lust ran around as they swirled with the wind, settled on top of the preety drinks and flowed inside the mouth of the one drinking, settling on their conscience before pulling out their courage to do what one wouldn't do normally and when the courage blindly took over and buried every emotion within, sin and lust giggled.
"here is your drink," you look over your shoulder to look at the bartender handling a customer their large glass of vodka, but before the customer could feel your eyes on them, you look back towards the dance floor again to continue observing the many intoxicated and sober bodies dancing, gridning against each other and doing lord knows what for the gobo lights above aren't really helping to look at each person and where their hands are.
you pull the silk robe closer to your body to make sure it is covering atleast till your midthighs as below them the eyes of those curious could only see your fishnet stockings and heels, kicking your legs as you hum for your customer to be here, but when you glanced at your phone screen a minute ago, you were waved at by disappointment of knowing the time and that he won't be here before half an hour, at his usual time.
being punctual is his style after all, the thought makes you smile which soon disappears when you feel perverted eyes of those around you trying to check you out and to find faults in your tied around robe to catch a glimpse of your skin which is meant to be reserved only for the man who can rival the greatest genius and defeat him pathetically.
you stand up from the stool with a small frown tugging at your lips, taking your phone from the black counter before you saunter away and on your way through the sidelines to avoid bumping into the slaves of lust and sin, your hand felt the tickling feeling as your phone vibrated and it felt the same when the man you are waiting for talks to you and you feel the same ticklish feeling in your stomach that your hand had the chance to experience right now.
tilting your head down to glance at the screen which illuminated to bring you hope and excitement, you read over the message quickly and cautiously yet it would've been fine even if you didn't since it seems as if you have it memorized like a prayer. the message which informed you of the arrival of the man in a few minutes.
you quickly turned on your heels to walk towards the bar again and when the dirt of perverted gazes tried to fall on your body, the shield of reassurance protected you from it. reassurance in the sense that the man who practically has ownership in a sense over you will be here quite soon, your hands work like those of a skilled craftsman as you put a bottle of dom perignon champagne in a bucket filled with ice while grabbing a white wine glass with the other hand before you make your way upstairs using the elevator permitted for staff and vip's only.
the bucket is heavy and hence why you placed it on the floor as soon as the elevator doors closed with you inside it, you turned to look and examine your reflection in the mirror behind to deem yourself ready to meet him. your leg bounced to excrete some ounces of excitement and anticipation out of your body.
as the elevator door opens to lead you into the world of lewd luxury, the stars from through the glassed walls twinkle in the sky but the moon pays them no heed and rather gazed down at the group of black cars driving on the empty roads for who else if not the rare percentage would drive on the streets at midnight, not those with tiring routines and families and not those with sorrows and despair but those who rules the night, the twinkling of the stars being the same as the shine of the silver ring on the svelte finger of the one who sat in the middle car.
the black coating of the car pays their respect to the sheet of black spreading over the night sky as if informing the sky that they aren't the rulers of night but the svelte man sitting in one of those five automobiles is, the same man due to whom your heart began to practice gymnastics and is now performing the flips etc., your futile attempts to calm your excited heart had only made your task of scanning your card on the door to unlock it difficult.
your foot took the lead by nudging the door to open after which you stepped in and immediately took off your heels, you closed the door behind you by nudging it against the door. the moment you place your feet on the soft red carpet, a gasp almost too inaudible had left your lips for the sensation traveled through the soles of your feet to your arms.
you had cleaned the table, the mirror to make sure it remains free of stains, lipstick marks and scratches for the man you serve had his face shaped by god himself who made sure to make the angels look at him in admiration of him and his creation and so, is it not appropriate to serve the perfect man (in your eyes) with the same perfection he always wears on his body?
your hands glided over the leather purple couch to smooth it of its roughness if there is any present as the staff before you made sure to deem this room appropriate for you, the maiden, and now you are doing the same for the swan you stumbled upon once but what made the swan stand out was it wasn't the traditional white one but a black one. yet it served grace as generously, if not more, as the white swan.
you are the ballerina with the way your feet glided across the room from one corner to other as you made sure to scan and evict any little flaw you find in it and after a few minutes when the room was utterly begging for the man it got ready for to grace it with his presence though the room had the wind flowing through the opened window as it's comfort when you began to wear your heels again, the see through white curtains covering the opened windows flowed inwards a bit to distract the room from its temporary dolour when your hands held the edge of the door to pull it with you to close the door as you left.
your phone screen illuminated with brightness of euphoria and as the light fell on your skin, you found your heart get more excited for perhaps your phone's brightness falling on your face in the dim hallway had transferred its euphoria inside you and maybe this theory could be taken to explain why you felt a sudden desperation to reach the entrance as soon as possible to be the first one on whom his eyes fall upon.
and so, in this state of frantic joy, you opted for the stairs instead, skipping one at a time as you quickly skipped downwards with only one goal in your mind ; to reach the bottom of the staircase to make your heart be even more frantic in anticipation and as soon as you skipped over the last step, you did not continue your journey forwards towards the main entrance which is usually where the entry is permitted from but the man we are talking about is not a ordinary man.
status wise, intelligence wise and lookwise -- even adonis would feel green in envy and feel the nimble hands of insecurities seduce him when he gazes into those purple pools of hypnosis which are far more powerful then any spell or magical orbs.
but what does he not know that you do? what makes your head raise high in pride of knowing the secret that not even adonis knows about the man he would surely envy?
the not so ordinary man became one after trials and errors and practices and more practices till he become one with the soul of a mad artist who painted with his fingers and when he saw the absence of red on his palette, he was driven to stab his finger and use his own blood as paint, the not so ordinary man who entered every time from a different route and it made you question how he knows more about this place then you, someone whose nights and evenings pass here, does.
so to explain why you were going towards the back doors can be explained with the childish desire to catch him off guard, impress him by being one step ahead of him which happens once in a blue moon and maybe this is why he always played the part of the passionate charecter who loved his passion even after said passion wounded him and left him unable to walk into the same field again.
you are said passion and you hurt him by making it hard for other women to be on the same caliber as you, to be as pretty as you in his eyes and to make him crave the time of the day to spend with them the way he does with you.
your hands find themselves seeking comfort by pinching on your forearm as you stand patiently infront of the two big doors with bulky men on either side who greet the celebrities and other important and rich figures who can not enter through the front entrance but when minutes pass by with the ticking of the clock, your mind scrambles to pinpoint a reason for his absence after his appointed time had passed and after the most excruciating five minutes of standing in the middle of the stage of loneliness and being guided across it by your rationality, your phone beeps and you do not even need to tilt your head down to look at it to know what it says, the announcement of the victory of the man once again.
it is when you turned around that you were approached by his guard who bowed, handed you a shopping bag of an expensive brand and left as if he had been performing an act with the way his movements were precise, not an ounce of confusion in his movements but you were the opposite.
perplexity told you to tilt your head down to examine the bag on whose handle was a shining ring attached with a paper, you made your way towards the elevator while wearing the ring in your ring finger for the presence of the diamond wasn't your source of confusion as the man had told you last night of his desire to give you the ultimate gift, his proof of his possession over you and with the way the lights of the elevator made the ring glimmer, the man clearly didn't care enough to take your refusal of being gifted such an expensive ring, into consideration.
the paper which you handled with perfect fragility made you wonder how he never felt worry and burden when handling and treating you for with every movement of your finger, your fear of ruining the paper only grew but when it finally opened to show you what was written in it, your worries and fears left and were instead replaced by the strong adoration which dangerously sat close to your rationality.
in the paper, were simple but firm words which left no room for confusion with the way they were so clear, the words read ; 'do not open the bag until an hour before i return tomorrow and if you do, it would be disappointing for me to know how my angel went against me. be good like you always were, for me and only for me always, angel.'
the elevator doors opened but you didn't step out, expectations of the man who is the expectation of god himself, rested its hand on your shoulders and flicked at your heart before it pushed you forwards slightly to make you step out and you did, blinking, you placed the paper inside the bag without looking down at what it contained.
your heart thumped, blood rushed through your veins and your hand fixed for any imperfections varying from any possible ruffles in your silk robe to any stray strand of hair that could've gone out of place during your entire journey to the entrance and back upstairs again.
you stopped, closed your eyes to be in peace for a short moment while you take a deep breath before opening your eyes again and unlocking the door using your card.
"the man of great promises has wowed the crowd again with his extreme ethics and mannerisms and with the results of today's conference, it is safe to assume that fyodor dostoyevsky and his party will be the one thriving on top in the upcoming elections next year, what do you think? --"
the voice of the television was lowered using the remote when the man heard the door open and he immediately looked at who entered not because he wanted to know who entered, he already did, but because his purple irises were dying to catch a glimpse of you.
"mr.dostoyevsky," your voice always sounded so soft and tempting whenever it pronounced his name, you were born to call his name, weren't you? you closed the door behind you as you approach him.
and there is he who killed his former self to be this being of perfection, killed his flaws to paint over them with the pride of being perceived as flawless instead and the man whose grace is in his smile and the pigment of his irises.
the sight of the man sitting with one leg crossed over the other, elbow propped on the armrest of the couch on which his cheek rested as he silently checked you out, always made you acknowledge your pussy clenching around nothing but tonight there is no room for mistakes and for imperfections for if its your last night serving the man, you want it to be perfect and leave an imprint on his heart so strong that no one else can recreate this scene and this night.
the stakes has never been higher, it's everything on the line tonight. it's the promise to yourself to show this man that no one can compare to you as well like how none can compare to him but he knew that, ever since your second night of serving him. he has known and lived with the fact since then.
"my angel." voice flowed like the waves of an ocean, peaceful yet powerful. and did it make you the fish swaying with the waves as you took the bottle of dom perignon and the white wine glass before approaching him? maybe it did but perhaps you are the leaf blowing with the wind which is fyodor. always so ready to flow in whichever direction he leads you to.
the man ruling your heart and thoughts wore a black turtle neck tucked in black pants and a white jacket over it which was falling on his elbows now, the purple lights falling onto his face gave him the crown to make the mortals of imperfections to fawn over his greatness. he raised his hand before bending his index finger to beckon you over, running a hand through his hair as he saw you slowly saunter towards him like a tiger walking towards the unsuspecting swan only for the swan to fly away.
fyodor sat straight before spreading his legs apart and you took your seat on the carpeted floor, between his legs as you opened the bottle and poured him his favorite drink into the glass before you raised yourself on your knees and gently brought the glass near his lips.
none made the effort to talk for this fleeting silence should be felt in every pore before the beginning of the night which both look forwards to.
a gulp containing your deepest desires was pushed down your throat when fyodor parted his lips and wrapped his hand around your's, tilting the glass to allow the liquid to flow into his mouth, does he not know how his simple action is affecting you?
he does or else he wouldn't had pushed the glass towards your lips, "drink, you like it, don't you?"
and who are you to refuse him who is staring down at you with a glint of gentleness you are so depraved of?
parting your lips with the intention of allowing him to pour the drink into your mouth was intrupted by the light shining and reflecting the diamond of the ring on his ring finger, the design not varying much if compared to your's and this intruption resulted in you raising your other hand to stop his hand from tilting the glass towards your mouth, your hand felt unfortunately like a succor in times like this, nights lights this where your heart became one with the gnawing defeatist in the back of your mind.
"excuse my sharp tongue but have you no shame, mr.dostoyevsky?" what began with a saccharine tone is the sentence whose meaning and purpose is mockery to soothe the wound in your own heart by craving shallow ones in his own.
"you are to be married tomorrow yet you gift me a ring? is the politics you are such a master of, being pulled in your real life as well? what do you attempt to prove by wearing a ring similar to this one?" you tilt your head in a silent jeering way but had he been the one to allow someone else to have the upper hand on him?
no, absolutely not. for fyodor dostoyevsky doesn't work that way. he doesn't work according to others but makes a plan so impeccable that nature bends itself to work according to him.
the hand of the black swan got a hold of your jaw which he tilted upwards before pouring the drink into your mouth and you wonder if politicians have mastered the act of pretense more then actors or why would his eyes hold adoration for a man of his caliber and especially for someone like you?
"what is shame after all angel? we are all born shameless, are we not?" the spokesperson of his party began but not in a tone of smartness and respect but in one which loosely hangs around the thin line of adoration in the form of a coo and amusement in the form of a playful smile.
"we develop shame, do we not?" you retort though your resolve isn't worthy of being called one for the way your irises followed fyodor's thumb which caressed your bottom lip.
"i am shameless then i suppose? but what's so wrong in being shameless for an angel like you? you, my cruel beauty, makes me feel as if i am drunk. one look at you and the world is blurry for me. i am the politician but you are my greed." words weren't words.
voice of a siren, the face of a swan but the determination of the devil. sumptuous and unreal, he is the greatest creation of god and the greatest envy to mankind. for fyodor is simply the miracle which can never occur again.
the words leaving his lips wrapped around your body and stopped you from looking away from him. the politician and his greed.
beauty is in the eye of the beholder till the beholder is the beauty.
the black swan is the black swan till you catch a glimpse of the tiny white spot on the back of his wings and then you start to wonder of who he was before being this man who wore perfection like his second skin and this curiosity makes fyodor weak in his knees.
to be desired is one thing. to be wanting to see him in his rawest form is another.
"stop flattering me mr.dostoyevsky. tell me what can i do to make your last night with me unforgettable." you smile up at him before you felt fyodor's hand slip down towards your throat before he gripped it, gently for he never treated the greed he chased after wrongly, before pulling you towards him as your hands fell on his thighs to offer some stabilization to yourself.
"last night? indeed i am one with politics for one lone reason. do you want to know what it is?" he asked, kissing the tip of his index finger before he placed it against your painted lips.
"yes mr.dostoyevsky." you breath out before parting your lips to take his finger in your mouth, swiring your tongue around its length and imagining it to be his dick. fyodor smirked, eyes narrowing in amusement.
"because no one knows what i know. they know and believe what i want them to, including you." fyodor shuts his eyes close as he groans lowly, the way your inner cheeks could be felt by every inch of his finger when you sucked on it made blood rush to his cock.
"uh huh. won't ya be a doll and tell me about it mr.dostoyevsky?" you blink, looking up at him through under your lashes and due to his finger in your mouth, your voice and words come out muffled and lord, oh lord, is this making fyodor go crazy.
"doll? am i your doll angel?" fyodor smiled down at you as he took his finger out to let you talk, lithe hands now working to untie the knot on your robe.
"i only had one doll in my life and even that was stolen by a bully. so to call you doll is to make it clear to myself that you, --" you stop to gulp as the robe is gently pulled off your shoulder and you remain in your violet lingere set.
"go on angel." fyodor whispered in mocking encouragement as if he didn't know the effect his fingers kneading into your shoulders is having on you.
" -- though you never actually belonged to me, would be taken away from me as well." you complete your words bitterly but it is soon forgotten when fyodor takes one of your hands to place it on top of his hardened cock.
"don't belong to you? angel no one could make me hard unless its you." he rasped out, closing his eyes as you caressed his clothed dick with your fingers while you looked up to drink in his reaction.
"don't marry tomorrow then mr.dostoyevsky, please? i would hate to see you returning as someone else's man and i would hate it even more to be assigned to someone else." you tell, eyes softening as you admit your feelings to him who looked down at you before grasping your jaw and caressing the curve.
"you trust me, don't you, angel?" he asked and for a moment, fyodor's eyes fell on the tv screen which showed his conference from today morning in which he is seen walking up the stage as his black suit made him look posh and handsome.
"what if i didn't mr.dostoyevsky?" you try not to smile by biting your inner cheek for the man above you has the ability to turn your anger towards him into vapor but you calling his name grabbed fyodor's attention as he looked down at you again and when he smiled, you were reminded why you felt so bitter the entire day, why you wanted to rush down to be the first one to greet him and why you jeered at him just now ;  the gentle and seductive smile and those nonchalant eyes as if no one could touch him is what made you freeze the first time as you stared at him before realizing that the man you were serving for all these nights is the one you fell for.
"that's a pity but i still want you to have some faith in me, to trust me and sign a few papers. can my angel do that for me?"
'my angel' is a term which made you go weak in the knees, your heart fluttered as it poked fun at your brain and proudly exclaimed its victory and you melted, nodding.
for you weren't 'his angel' if you didn't have blind faith in him and his action and if you didn't think of him to be greater then the seven wonders of the world.
bitterness was taken over by love and admiration. jealousy was over thrown by lust and a need of praises.
"let me pleasure you, mr.dostoyevsky. you worked so hard today, looked so preety today." your hand traced his belt before you begin to unbuckle it and fyodor gave you all the freedom you required by spreading his legs as his arms went around the back of the couch he is seated on.
"i looked preety?" fyodor asked in amusement as he looked down at you with one eyebrow cocked, his stomach felt like it was in the middle of a hurricane of butterflies when you pulled his zipper down after allowing his cock free from the shackles of the belt.
"the prettiest and smartest." you smile, trying not to chuckle as you look up at him, you couldn't focus on anything else when fyodor leaned down towards you, head tilted.
"are you talking about yourself angel?" fyodor teased, to hide the pale pink flush on his cheeks by flicking your cheek with his finger and it was your turn to be hugged and have shyness to cling to you.
instinctly, you felt your body leaning the tiniest bit forwards to feel more of his touch on your skin.
"i was talking about you mr.dostoyevsky." you mumble, looking at him who playfully widened his eyes before his eyes looked down at your clevage and then back at your eyes.
eyes who saw too much desire of others towards him were now filled with it themselves as he let his eyes linger onto your lips and wonder how would it feel to kiss you. then as if your clevage asked for attention, a imaginary force tapped fyodor and reminded him about your breasts which he glanced down at and the next movement of his hand tapping at the strip of your bra had you gulping.
"take it off for me, angel?" fyodor's voice is low, soft yet it isn't nervous in the slightest. he knows what he is asking for and he knows what your answer will be.
"why should i?" you raise your eyebrows at the man who snickered before his supple fingers took the leadership by hooking itself under your bra strap and pulling it before letting it smack against your skin.
soft gasp gave rise to titillation to transform into utter and raw intoxication. the soft pout on your lip as you looked up at fyodor made him realise the growing frustration of his hardened dick.
"because i am asking so, angel, do you really even need another reason?" he breathed out, leaning down to twirl a strand of your hair on his finger as his eyes refused to look away from your face.
"mr.dostoyevsky." you nearly mewl, why is this one man and his stare playing with the chord of your heart and giving arousal freedom to imagine whatever it wants to?
black, black swan who is tainting the white swan, why do you feel satisfied and not grief?
does it not satisfy you to see the white swan at your feet every night that you try to reach feats no one else could? for no one could do what fyodor dostoyevsky can to sum it up in brief.
"hm?" fyodor hummed before he smiled upon watching you clumsily fumble with your bra to remove it but the hard and hungry stare of the man is proving the task to be more difficult then what it originally is.
"please tell me how i can pleasure you." you did not need to tell twice for once the words left the cage that is your mouth, they were free and rioting in the form of being chanted multiple times in the back of fyodor's mind.
"oh shit, how can i marry someone else when this is all your doing?" fyodor pulls his dick out, lifting his hips to remove his pants till they are left hanging on his knees and his words were only being understood now when your eyes were staring straight at the hardened and angry dick dripping with precum.
"you say this but aren't you marrying someone else tomorrow?" you bite your lip in sudden pleasure when fyodor leaned forwards to pinch your nipple between his cold index finger and thumb.
"i am marrying tomorrow, yes." only giving a glimpse of itself, the black swan teases the nature and fyodor teases you with his vague answers -- they aren't vague to the normal ear but you who saw the reminants of the white swan within him loves to observe him the same way a marine biologist studies the biology within. it may kill you but lord, do you care when the addiction of figuring something in him out is the greatest satisfaction of them all.
"i've served married men before but you were someone i wished would always remain a bachelor, i am being unprofessional --"
"absolutely not." fyodor intrupted you as he tilted your head up to stare at him with his index finger on your chin before he told the declaration of lust within you and within him to begin taking over,  "i love you showing possession over me. go on angel, let everyone passing by know who it is that can get me so worked up."
slender fingers traced the outline of your underboob, "gotta show everyone why you are my favorite, no? you are the only woman who ever touched me and you dare get upset with me?"
he playfully scoffed before fondling with your boob while your hands slithered up like wines to grab his cock which you pumped a few times -- all the while his eyes stayed on you and your's on him.
"mr.dostoyevsky, flattering will get you no where." you smiled, teasing the man who always left you a breathless mess and your toes curled when fyodor leaned down to lick below your lip before he planted a soft kiss. he always did it, kissing dangerously close to your lips but never your lips for the man did not want to have intercourse before marriage and this is what got you especially riled up. you were the one covered in his cum, tasted his cum, the first woman who gave him a blowjob and what not but you won't be the first woman to kiss him. ironic.
"and actions will?" fyodor smirked before tapping your other, neglected boob and you took the cue, your hand abandoned his cock to hold your boobs and push them to give him the invitation.
fyodor placed his dick between the valley of your boobs which would soon be experiencing the ending of the drought.
"actions will." you confirm though if compared to him, your voice is breathless and as you push your boobs together to trap his dick between your flesh, he too, felt the same hand of desire pulling the breath out of his throat harshly.
you began to move up and down as your hands made sure to hold your boobs close in a way that squeezes his dick between them and try to imitate the way it would probably feel to have your walls clamping around him and the pleasure builded up slowly. fyodor groaned and ran a hand through his hair before he gripped the roots and tilted his head back.
a shaky hissed left his lip when you brought your face down to kiss his sensitive tip before you licked it.
fyodor's eyes remained screwed shut as he brought his hand forwards to wrap it around the base of his cock and pump it to stimulate even more pleasure.
your eyes widened and lips parted, staring up in admiration and adoration at the man whose hair fell and sticked to his forehead, eyes may have remained closed but the parted lips of his which gave way to the hisses and grunts of pleasure was the main attraction anyway.
you then looked down to see the tip of his dick disappear between where your boobs met before appearing again and the cycle repeated, the sight of eroticism making you clench your own thighs and move up and down slightly to feel the fabric of your panties press up against your aching cunt.
fyodor opened his eyes, his pace increased and with the other hand, he traced shapes on your collarbone before grabbing your shoulder in a strong grip as he gasped softly, ropes of cum shooting out and painting the canvas of your skin, the cum trailed down your boob before nestling against your nipple.
black swan, oh, black swan, falling victim to your desires?
he is.
how does it feel to be caressed by the very same emotions you once tried to kill within you, oh, black swan, the lover.
fyodor's fingers wrapped around your wrist before he pulled you up into his lap, mouth immediately attacking your nipple as he sucked on it, nibbled and only got more encouraged when you whined out, your hand couldn't stop itself from following the demand of your heart which told it clearly to grab his hair in a gentle grip, the action had fyodor humming in approval.
the other hand played with the cum dripping down your chest before you swiped some of it with your finger to put it in your mouth and suck it, looking at fyodor with faux innocence and the sight of the man gulping made you lick your lips.
white swan, oh, white swan, seducing the black swan is your job not your life purpose yet why do you work so hard as if it's your only purpose?
black swan, be flawless and love her and let the white swan be possessive over you.
and white swan, be the one to look past this fake flawless-ness and watch the otherworldly being submit to his humanity.
fyodor's teeth sinked down on your flesh not hard enough to cause a serious or painful injury but just hard enough to imprint his teeth mark on your boob, which he licked afterwards in a cheap apology to soothe the pain. but nothing about the man himself is cheap so even if his attempt is considered as cheap, the emotions it sturred inside you were rich in every way.
fyodor then leaned back, his fingers spread the cum on your chest before he scooped some up on the tip of his index finger and brought it up to your lips which you parted to let him push his finger into it, resting it just above your wet appendage and pressing down a bit as his eyes got serious to lead to the beginning of the momentous event.
"before anything else, let me tell you what to expect tomorrow. it'll surely be a eventful day, no?" fyodor's amused smile was met with your eyes being blinked once due to the obstruction in the form of his slender finger inside your mouth but before he continued further, it is absolutely important to know why he sticked his finger into your mouth.
the black swan spreads it's wing to charm the white swan, to enthrall it before it brought its magnificent show to an end. the reason for this boastful action was to gather the utmost attention of preety white swan.
"you won't need to do much, angel. just make a decision tomorrow. there will be two documents and it's all on you to either sign it or not." and he finally pulled his finger out when your eyes pleaded him to let you speak.
"will you come tomorrow, mr.dostoyevsky?" your voice came out raspy, breathless and it cracked, not due to sadness but due to the numbing effect his fingers pressing down on your tongue had on you.
"do you want me to?" he pushed himself to be a bit near you while he removed his jacket and placed it over your shoulder, expertly avoiding having the cloth collide with his cum still dripping down your collarbones and chest.
"i do." you confirm to let the man raise his eyebrows cockily but the sight doesn't annoy nor humiliate you but makes your heart swell in adoration, your eyes falling on your bare shoulders which were now covered with his jacket.
and what pain is plucking it's own feathers when the white swan looks so good with your feathers around its head like a crown, oh black swan? the satisfaction is greater then the pain for you, no?
"wear this. my heart is your's anyways so why not take my jacket as well?"
you snorted, rolling your eyes.
"mr.dostoyevsky, i think you should stick to politics." you joked but the white swan was the earlier stages of the black swan, what white swan does, black swan already did.
"and i think you should stick by my side. don't you, as well? i hope you make a choice you won't regret tomorrow angel." cruel.
oh cruel man, why do you speak so seriously yet kiss your angel's jaw at the same time as if you don't want her to focus on your words but just on the feather like feeling of your lips on her skin for the slightest second.
cruel, cruel man yet oh so ethereal too.
"once again, i'll remind you that two documents will be offered to you and it's your choice to either sign them or tear them. your actions tomorrow will change things greatly, angel." the cruelty continued of the temptation packed into the body of the russian man and his each touch ignited a sense of euphoria on your skin and his words were left with half given attention.
till the event he had foreseen since long ago came to life.
you wrapped fyodor's jacket tighter on your body, smiling to yourself as it still smelled like him. his rich cologne still lingered on the jacket and hugged you to provide you with a sense of stability in the otherwise unusually quite club an hour before its usual opening time. the bag he gifted you yesterday contained a white lacy lingerie set though the curiosity remains to haunt your thoughts with the question -- is this a farewell gift or can you really expect to see him tonight as well?
to see the bustling and lively place look so quiet as staff quickly worked to clean it and organize everything for another night of unconfined emotions is a sight you got used to but still felt weirded out with as your undivided attention went to every inch of the place and noticed every inch which would usually be crowded.
though the way someone bumped into you to make you stumble a few steps forwards was quick to make you scowl and forget about the club and its loneliness just one hour before its opening, you turned to look at her. the hunter and the bully.
the manager and the most sought-after stripper of the club.
"we found you at last!" she rolled her eyes in a exaggerated fashion and you did the same to let her know the annoyance is mutual.
"girls." the clearing of the throat of the manager made both of you to immediately snap your heads towards him who nodded once in what seemed like satisfaction at the obedience and discipline shown.
"mr. fyodor dostoyevsky just submitted his last cheque to our club. a last donation cheque. you know what it means, don't you?" he didn't ask to anyone in particular but the girl beside him widened her eyes in mild surprise.
"he won't be coming back? did he find a new club or?" she asked the manager but you took his chance to reply, answering,
"he must've gotten married by now. he is a married man. he won't mingle with the likes of us anymore." you clutch the hem of his jacket as you raise your eyes to look at your manager, "who will i be assigned to next?"
taken aback by your rapid ability to move on and past the man you've you've serving for the past six months or so, the manager took a moment to gather himself before he nodded but before he could let a word out, the attention was grabbed by fyodor's secretary who walked with two guard behind.
you watched for the next five minutes with utter confusion at the manager and secretary exchanging greetings and words before the manager nodded and stepped aside to let the messenger of the man you love to walk towards you, he greeted you and you reciprocated before he dropped the pin in the lake.
"sir told me to directly give these papers to you." the secretary bowed before offering you a file and a pen he came with and took a step back.
his words made sense now. but they didn't.
you understood the overall situation but it was only the outer layer and the inner layer is yet to be discovered but how? when you don't know which decision will enable you to do so.
and what did you do in times of dilemma?
you did what you were told to many times, to put your trust in the black swan and watch him pull the strings without moving much other then a single finger of his hand.
you anxiously pulled on the sleeve of the white jacket before approaching the nearest hard surface which happened to be the bar counter before you opened the file and signed the first document on the signature space, doing the same with the other document.
this is a trial. a test. to not give in to your selfish or well instinctive desires to read or atleaat skim over the writings of the document is to prove your utmost faith in fyodor whose reward remained a mystery but the end results didn't matter while in the journey with fyodor.
"here." you softly utter and turn back to hand over the file to the secretary but to your surprise, your heart beats as you see fyodor approaching you with rushed steps, one hand loosening the tie around his neck.
but according to the news channels, he was supposed to be getting married at this hour, did he walk off from his wedding?
it's selfish. but the thought made your heart flutter and you couldn't help or overcome the nervousness that took over you.
". . . i trust you, i signed it mr.dostoyevsky." you inform and watch the man nod breathlessly and you wonder what's gotten into him with enough strength to take his breath away?
desire. utter raw desire.
"good, i declare you my wife from here on angel."
you saw the manager and fyodor's secretary widen their eyes before your eyes were forced to close when fyodor caught your wrist which holded the files and quickly pulled you towards him to slam his lips against your's, the papers flew out of your hands but fyodor didn't care.
the hunter watched the swans dance and looked at its partner who had dropped the pin in the lake, to see the latter capturing pictures without looking taken aback.
the manager watched with surprise as the  bodyguards and secretary ushered people out of the entire floor.
while fyodor grabbed your waist to lift and place you on top of the counter, lips moving against your's before you parted your lips to whine but the opportunist took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.
the girl walked forwards to grab the fallen down papers and she stood straight while keeping her eyes on said papers.
one was a marriage certificate and another was your official resignation letter from the club with the addition of the threat of fyodor's name attached next to your's. and anyone and everyone who worked close enough to the upper class society knows how foolish it is to claim their authority over someone or something whose name has the name of a strong influence next to it.
the girl, the bully, who was she infront of the power named fyodor dostoyevsky?
no one and it was made clear by the way she didn't protest when said man's guards ushered her away as well to let fyodor have the entire floor to himself. he rented it out after all.
"mr.dostoyevsky." you gasp when fyodor separated from you, his half lidded eyes was drawn to the string of saliva connecting your lips to his and he was overtaken by desire again which made him attack your lips ; a lick to your upper lip before he began to nibble on your bottom lip for a while till you pulled him closer by grabbing his black suit coat, fyodor pushed his tongue inside your mouth again and if french kissing is considered sexy then fyodor is certainly doing justice to the claim.
at the same time, his hand went down to unzip the jacket before he pushed it back a bit to flick his finger against your stomach.
fyodor separated from the comfort of your lips to lean towards your ear and whisper, "good choice angel but i thought you didn't trust me? yet here you are, signing the papers without even missing a beat, oh angel --" fyodor sighed out fondly yet his tone remained cocky and amused, " -- always such a good girl for me."
". . .you are crazy, mr.dostoyevsky. absolutely unbelievable." laughing in relief is a short term gesture before fyodor had picked you again and you wrapped your legs around his waist at the sudden action, with widened eyes you watched as he led you towards one of the couches and laid you down.
"told you i would be getting married today but perhaps i forgot to tell you that you were the bride. oh, how can i forget so?" he smiled down, his hand pulling his zip down.
. . . and you are the first woman to kiss him as well. the realization made you smile as you close your eyes.
"not a chance angel, open your eyes and watch your husband satisfy you."
━━━━━━━ 💋 end.
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lesbianpepsi · 9 months
Text
love not at first sight
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pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader
summary: sam witnesses an intruder breaking in through her window at night...
words: 3.790k
warnings: pepper spraying, punching, swearing, bad writing
authors note: i'm sick, i'm sad and i'm sober. so i decided to drag my ass out of writers block and write about my wife
It was a dull Friday night in the Carpenter apartment; Tara out with her friends partying -much to Sam's dissatisfaction-, Quinn over at one of her boy toys apartment definitely having much more fun than Sam, who sat alone in her living room watching a movie with a glass of red wine.
The movie didn't interest Sam at all, to be honest she only really put on the first movie she saw so she wouldn't be alone in silence. 
Sam always enjoyed solitude before the hallucinations, she used to love being alone with her thoughts. But ever since she found out that Billy fucking Loomis was her father, she's never been able to truly enjoy her alone time as she used to. 
Paranoid at any given moment she'll hear his voice telling her to make her dark thoughts a reality.
As the movie reached its end Sam sighed, finishing off her wine with it. 
The gnawing feeling of protectiveness hit her at the thought of Tara out there partying with her friends. Sam really hated Tara constantly going out to parties, the fear of not knowing where Tara is at all times scaring her more than she'd like to admit. 
Sam stood up slowly from the couch as she pulled her phone out of her back pocket, unlocking it to send Tara another message.
Sam (8:45pm): If you need me, call me and I'll be there straight away.
Tara (9:21pm): ok
Sam (10:13pm): I'm heading off to bed soon, I've left the door unlocked for you, please don't stay out too late.
Tara (11:38pm): thx
Sam (12:12am): It's getting quite late now, Tara. Please be back before one, I don't like you staying out so late.
Sam stared at the screen for a few minutes in hopes Tara would respond quickly, but it didn't surprise her when she didn't. Shutting her phone off she shoved it back into her jean pocket, heading towards the dark kitchen with her empty glass of wine.
How sad is this, Sam thought sarcastically to herself as she dropped the glass next to the sink, leaning against the counter for a moment. 
Just for that moment she heard a sound, it was essentially non audible, but somehow Sam heard it. 
 Turning around so her back faced the counter Sam slowly opened the drawer and grabbed the one of many pepper sprays, gripping it tightly in her right hand. 
The room fell silent. 
Sam's eyes peered around the kitchen frantically, desperately trying to figure out where that noise came from. 
When suddenly the kitchen window began rolling open slowly, and a few moments later a figure emerged.
The kitchen wasn't lit with any light which didn't allow Sam to see the intruders face, using that to her advantage she creeped towards the person who had no clue Sam was there.
"I'm never touching fucking jäger again." A feminine voice slurred out, wobbling towards the wall, aimlessly looking out for a light switch.
Sam's steps were featherlight as she crept behind her, her eyes cold and dark as the woman's hand found the light switch on the wall. 
The lights flickered on causing the woman to groan as she turned away, her body turning to look at Sam.
Before the woman could do anything Sam without hesitation pepper sprayed the woman right in her eyes erupting a loud scream from the woman.
"Who the fuck are you?!" Sam yelled darkly as she stepped back, the screaming woman covering her already crying red eyes. 
"Who the fuck are you?!" You yelled back, copying Sam's words but with much more emotion compared to Sam's tone void of one. "My eyes! I think I'm going blind?!" You screeched, Sam rolled her eyes coldly as she threateningly raised her hand up again, holding the pepper spray. 
"Why are you in my apartment?" Sam demanded her patience for this drunken stranger running thin. 
"My eyes are burning, oh god they're melting off aren't they?" You whined before she coughed aggressively, completely dismissing Sam's question. "Why did you attack me?" You screamed as you dropped your hands from your eyes, revealing your red bloodshot eyes with red puffy skin, tears flowing out of your eyes at a rapid pace.
"Why wouldn't I?" Sam spat out as she lowered her hand back down, although you were a complete stranger she knew she meant no harm and was only a drunken fool. 
You scoffed as you glared at Sam, coughing as you covered your hand over your mouth. "Look, I don't care if you're one of Danny's sleeping buddies, I will kick your ass out of my apartment." 
Danny? 
"Your apartment? This is my apartment you fucking idiot, nobody named Danny even lives here!" You blinked frowned as you opened your mouth to argue, your eyes finally scanning the scenery around you, finally you noticed that this wasn't your apartment.
Your burning eyes widened dramatically as you turned to look at Sam, eyes not even focused on her. 
"You're not one of Brackett's bum buddies?" You questioned in a slurring voice. Sam grimaced at the thought as she figured out you somehow knew Danny, her new friend. 
"Danny doesn't even live here, lady. He lives in the apartment complex opposite of here." Sam explained through gritted teeth as she pointed towards the window you came from, pointing towards the other apartment building. 
"Oh." You mumbled. Sam scoffed as she nodded her head. "Yes, oh." 
"Where the fuck am I then?" Sam was about to strangle you, she swears on her dead fathers grave. 
"You're in my house, not yours and Danny's, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd fuck off." Sam explained as she stormed off past you, hitting you in the shoulders as she headed towards the door.
You scoffed loudly as you sloppily turned around to peer at where Sam was going. "No need to be rude, Miss Pepper Spray." You said, laughing a little at your own words as if you were the funniest person on earth. 
Sam rolled her eyes as she opened the door with force, leaning against the door. "You live with Danny Brackett?" She asked to which you nodded her head, walking towards Sam, almost tripping over yourself in your high heels. 
"How do you know, Miss Pepper Spray?" You mumbled as you walked past Sam, leaving the apartment in whole.
Sam felt ever so tempted to slam the door shut and forget about you, but that gnawing feeling of letting you walk alone in the night didn't feel right to Sam. Especially since you were having issues seeing because Sam had pepper sprayed you.
Biting the inside of her cheeks she watched as you wandered to the opposite end of where the stairs were, talking to yourself at how much your eyes hurt. 
"Fuck sakes." Sam grumbled before she marched towards you, dragging you back into the apartment.
"Stop moving so fast!" You whined as Sam shut the door, walking towards the dining table still holding your forearm. 
Sam ignored you as she forcefully sat you down on one of the wooden chairs, turning her back on you a few seconds later to grab a 'Pepper Spray Antidote' spray from the same draw she got the pepper spray. 
A purchase she had made many months ago after Chad peppered sprayed himself in the eyes.
"Am I back home?" You asked as Sam approached you, her eyes still cold as she grabbed at your jaw, making you look up at her. 
Your painfully red eyes widened at the hold. "Don't kill my eyes again please!" 
Sam rolled her eyes as she showed you the spray. "This will help with the pain." Sam told you, to which you beamed at. She took that as permission as she  stepped closer to you, standing between your legs as she stared down at you. Carefully she began spraying a large amount of the liquid into your eyes, her grip on your jaw softening the slightest. 
As Sam suddenly noticed the closeness she couldn’t help but notice how utterly gorgeous you are.
Every single feature about you Sam couldn’t help but find attractive. Your hair, your figure, your lips, your small relieved smile and even your eyes, even when slightly swollen and bloodshot she could still admire your beauty. 
Was it the wrong time to think that? 
Once she sprayed more than enough on both eyes she dropped the spray onto the table. "Better?" Sam asked, you nodded your head slowly as Sam felt you lean into her hand. "Still hurts like a bitch though." 
"Can you see better?" She questioned once again; her voice had softened but you couldn't tell the difference. 
"Kinda." 
"Good enough." She mumbled as she dropped her hand from your jaw. "I'm taking you back to your actual apartment now, lady. So c'mon." 
"Lady? That's fancy." You snorted as you wobbly stood up, arms spread out as you tried to balance yourself. 
Sam tried not to facepalm at the entire situation, it made it even harder since Sam for some reason made it her duty to look after you.
"Can you walk?" She asked impatiently, her eyes flickering down to your heels. You looked down with Sam, giggling like a child.
"Jesus, I forgot how big these heels are." Sam sighed as she looked around the apartment to see if there were any trainers near. Her eyes landed on her old Nike trainers, those will do, she thought to herself as she went over to grab them.
Picking them up off of the floor she returned to you. "Do you want to walk back home in these?" You nodded your head greedily at that.
"Please, my feet are killing me more than my eyes." You slurred as you dropped back down onto the chair. Slowly, you took off your heels with a relieved moan. 
Not wanting to waste more time, Sam simply dropped to her knees and put the shoes on for you.
"Holy shit, I'm like cinderella." You laughed drunkenly as you looked down at Sam with amusement. Sam huffed as she gazed back up at you, an unamused look on her face. "And you're my prince charming, well, my princess charming. Girls do it better anyway." 
Amen to that 
Sam stood up swiftly as she offered her hand to you, to which you accepted with a lazy smile. "Thank you my princess charming who pepper sprays people." 
The corners of Sam's mouth twitched upwards to which she instantly fought the urge to smile.
"Stop calling me that." Sam mumbled as she walked alongside the slightly more sobered up you, taking slow steps. 
"But Miss Pepper Spray Princess Charming is such a good name." You argued with a grin as you walked much straighter than beforehand, still swaying from side to side but it had decreased compared to earlier. 
Sam rolled her eyes as your high heels dangled from her hands. "Just call me my real name, Sam." 
You turned to look at her with hazy eyes as you smiled widely. "Sam." You said slowly, as if you were testing her name. "I'll just call you princess Sam then." 
Sam sighed instantly and she regretted telling you her name, more focused on making sure you'll make it home safely Sam stayed silent. 
"So, princess Sam, you wanna guess my name?" You asked, breaking the silence that Sam hoped would fill the walk to Danny's apartment. 
"No." Sam grunted as she walked in front of you while walking down the stairs, just in case you'd fall on her, Sam breaking your fall. 
You rolled your eyes at Sam's boring answer. "No isn't my name. Try again?"
"Can't we walk in silence until we arrive at yours and Danny's apartment?" You shook your head with a goofy grin as Sam held the door open for you, giggling as you walked past her. "Thank you princess charming Sam, and the answer is no. So guess!" 
"Jesus Christ." The tall woman muttered under her breath as she walked by your side, her shoulder touching yours. You snorted as you turned to look at her with an amused expression. "I ain't the big J." 
"Annoying?" Sam said sarcastically.
"You're really bad at this guessing game you know." You mumbled as you accidentally leaned closer to Sam as you walked.
Sam huffed a dry laugh as she looked around the quiet street before she crossed the road with you. 
"And you really know how to be fucking annoying." 
"That's kinda of a cunt thing to say rather than charming, princess Sam." You remarked with a giggle. 
Sam's jaw tightened as she would've rather went to the party with Tara rather than have to deal with you, a drunken stranger breaking into her house. 
"You're just gonna give up on the guessing game?" You teased with a slight slur still audible to your voice. 
Sam nodded her head curtly as she opened the double doors to the apartment complex, holding it open for you once again. 
"Guess you'll never find out then." You said as you strolled over to the elevator, grinning to yourself as you entered it. 
"How sad." She spat out sarcastically. Sam followed as she stood next to you, who's leaning against the wall. 
You clicked the button '7' and within a second the doors closed as a soft hum of elevator music filled up the metal box, taking the two of you upwards.
You hummed along with the music, eyes focused on the small digital clock on top of the doors. Sam studied you -who was completely unaware of her peering eyes- with an un described expression. 
Had it been anyone else Sam would've thrown them out without a second thought, maybe even gone further than pepper spraying if the person fought back. But she's going all the steps with you, a complete stranger who randomly lives with her friend. 
Is she only doing this in case Danny would find out she had kicked out his venerable and stupid roommate at night, or was it something else? 
Sam isn't sure herself.
The elevator dinged loudly dragging Sam out of her thoughts, you sighed as you sluggishly walked out of the elevator, Sam following behind you.
You walked over to the apartment door to which Sam quickly wrapped her long slender fingers around your wrist, dragging you towards the correct door she knew Danny Brackett lived in.
"My saviour, princess Sam." You giggled to yourself. 
Sam had completely run out of her patience by this moment, her body tired as she had to deal with this drunken stranger.
Banging on the door roughly with her hand in a tight fist, she stayed like that until a pissed off Danny opened the door.
His eyes widened in confusion as he took in the scene of you, still drunk and leaning against Sam and Sam with an unamused expression. 
"You're lucky I didn't kill her." She mumbled to him. You grinned as you noticed Danny, throwing your arms up in the air.
"Ignore her Danny, Princess Sam is just grumpy." You told him as you walked past him, turning to look at Sam one final time, grinning like a fool as you waved enthusiastically. "Bye princess charming Sam."
Sam rolled her eyes as she fluttered her eyes away from your figure to Danny's very apparent smirk.
"Princess Sam?" He asked with amusement, Sam shook her head in annoyance. "Don't."
He laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest, glancing back at you tripping into your room before he leaned against the doorframe. 
"Did you see her at the club?" He asked to which Sam shook her head, stifling a dry laugh.
"She broke into my apartment thinking it was yours, so I pepper sprayed her." Danny's eyes widened dramatically as she did a double take back to the direction of your room.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry Sam. That couldn't have been nice. Y/n is such a stupid twat when she gets hammered." He apologised with a sympathetic smile. "Thank you for making sure she got home safe though, even though what she did was just stupid." 
Y/n, that name suits her, Sam can't help but think.
Sam laughed for the first time that day as she nodded her head in agreement with him. "Very." 
He sighed as he rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb. "I'm gonna go make sure she doesn't choke on her own puke. Again, sorry about her." 
"Goodnight, Danny." Sam said with a crooked smile before she turned to leave, more desperate to get to her bed than before.
____________
That night it didn’t take long for Sam to fall asleep. Tara was thankfully back in the apartment and fast asleep in her bed before Sam had even arrived back, which granted Sam permission to lock the door. 
Sam couldn’t help but think about you as she fell asleep, much to her annoyance. Her mind kept wandering back to you at any given moment. 
Why hadn’t she heard Danny mention you before? How much did you have to drink? How the fuck could someone be so breath takingly beautiful even when shitfaced? Did you think of Sam before you fell asleep? 
Eventually Sam managed to fall asleep and stayed asleep for the rest of the night until the day. For the first time in a long time, Sam didn’t have a shift the next morning so the woman could have a much needed lay in. 
Waking up around eleven Tara had somehow awakened before her, tiredly making her hangover breakfast. Sam grinned as she entered the kitchen to greet her sister, feeling much better than her younger sister. 
The two chatted amongst each other as Sam helped Tara cook since she was convinced Tara was the absolute worst cook ever, always burning or undercooking her meals. After the two had made their meals they moved to eat it in the living room, Tara putting on Brooklyn Nine Nine for them to watch. 
As they began eating a loud knock was heard at the door, Tara groaned at the loud noise as Sam sighed getting up from the comfy couch. She placed her plate on the coffee table before she walked over to the door, looking through the peephole she was surprised to see you standing there wearing thick black sunglasses and a small backpack. 
Sam hesitated for a moment but reluctantly unlocked the door for you, leaning against the doorframe once she opened the door. You gave Sam a nervous smile as your hand went to lay on the back of your neck. 
“Hey, Sam.” You croaked out in a much more sober voice compared to the one you had last night. “Did you sleep well?” You added after a few seconds. 
Sam shrugged her shoulders as her eyes gazed at your face, a weird feeling tugging at her heartstrings the longer she gazed at your sunglasses, knowing you were hiding your swollen red eyes. 
“Slept as well as a robber after a successful break in.” You chuckled as you nodded your head weakly, your hand dropping from your neck. “I guess that wasn’t the best way to meet, was it?” 
Sam scoffed loudly. “No it was not.” 
You smiled nervously at the woman as Sam noticed a small blush appearing on your cheeks. “I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I drank way too much, and I know that’s not an excuse for my actions, but the alcohol definitely didn’t help me in any way.” You apologised with an awkward laugh. 
For some reason Sam found amusement in the entire situation, fighting the urge to smile because of you once again. “Yeah, I heard you mumbling something about never touching jäger again.” 
You automatically winced at the words as if they were revolting, this time Sam couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh at the sight. “I’m honestly impressed I can even stand up straight right now. I had like sixteen shots of jäger from a drinking game.” You said as you pointed at your sunglasses. “Which explains why I'm wearing these glasses indoors, I cannot handle light at all right now. Plus I didn’t want to traumatise people with my fucked up eyes.” 
“At least the glasses make you look like a bodyguard.” Sam inquired with a small smile tugging at her lips, you laughed as you nodded your head. “Robber by night, con artist by day.” You say grinning. 
Sam laughs at the stupid joke, the corner of her eyes crinkling as her lips curl upwards in a larger smiler. 
Why the fuck am I laughing so hard, that was a shit joke.
“Anyway, I came here for another reason other than apologising.” You explained as you shrugged off your bag. Sam watched you carefully as you took out Sam’s borrowed pair of shoes, smiling nervously as you passed them back over. “Thanks for letting me borrow these, Princess Charming.” 
Sam rolled her eyes as she snatched the shoes from you, biting her inner cheek. “Just call me Sam..” 
You shook your head as you smirked, letting out a low laugh as you zipped your bag back closed, throwing it over your shoulders. “But you’re the princess charming to my cinderella.” 
“Whatever.” Sam muttered with a small smile. 
You sighed as you glanced down the hallway before you looked back at Sam, your mouth opening to say something before you abruptly shut it before any words could be uttered. Pursing your lips you nodded your head at Sam. 
“See you around, Sam.” 
Sam almost frowned as she noticed you were leaving, instead she gave you a curt nod back. You waited for a second for Sam to say anything but she stayed silent, you smiled at her one final time before you turned to leave. 
She watched you leave until you were fully out of her view, only then she sighed before reentering her apartment, holding her shoes as she walked back towards the living room.
“Who was that?” Tara asked, her voice loud taking Sam by surprise, making the woman drop the shoes. “Shit.” Sam grumbled as she bent down to pick them up, as she snatched at the pair she noticed a piece of paper on the floor. 
Her brows furrowed together confused as she went to grab it with her free hand. As Sam read the small ripped piece of paper the corners of her lips curled up into a smile. 
“i usually make better first impressions, maybe i could show you on a date sometime? :) 
xxx-xxx-xxxx 
-Y/n” 
1K notes · View notes
monzabee · 9 months
Text
kiss it better – ls18
masterlist ||
Summary: The one where a crazy idea turns out to be the best possible thing for you and Lance.
Pairing: lance stroll x reader
Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings: fluff, kissing and other than that none? might have a few curse words but otherwise very tame
Request: “okay so i’m obsessed with the lance stroll fake dating to lovers/friends to lovers but it’s always the reader asking. would you write lance asking reader to attend gala/wedding or something as his date and then the feels start to come up from both sides? smut, fluff, angst, wherever your imagination takes you x”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did not expect to get this excited for a certain canadian man, but here we are!! now that i had the pleasure of writing about lance, i hope you guys know that more is to come, and thank you anon for the request!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 
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You love slow afternoons, is what you realise as your fingers move out of their own volition on your keyboard as you try your best to finish your draft on time so that you can send it to your agent. Lance is on the couch next to you, his focus on his phone, rather than the show he has on your TV – which he ignores as he continuously texts with the person on the other end and lets out lengthy sighs every few seconds.
After what it must be the hundredth sigh of the evening, you give him a pointed look over the glasses resting on your face, “Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”
“What?” Lance asks, his shoulders rising in a half-hearted shrug. He glances up from his phone, his brows furrowing slightly as he registers your statement.
“You've been sighing and moping around for the past hour,”  you say, your tone a mix of annoyance and concern. “What's going on? Is something wrong with the ‘Real Housewives of Beverly Hills’?”
Lance sighs again, louder this time, as if to emphasize his frustration. He puts his phone down on the coffee table and runs a hand through his hair, tousling it further. "It's nothing," he mutters, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance, “and the housewives are fine, not Kim, though. I think Lisa Rinna is about to break the wine glass, again.”
“You’ve watched the Amsterdam trip how many times, now?” You ask him as you get up from your place at the dinner table and grab your wine glass before making your way over to him on the couch and settle next to him. “Forget it, just tell me what’s wrong so that we can get your breathing back to normal.” 
“Chloe is what’s wrong,” Lance mutters, turning his phone screen towards you to give you a better look at the messages between him and his sister, “she is bugging me to bring someone to the wedding.”
You tilt your head to the side, “I thought you were going to take Sandra.”
“It was Sarah.” He returns your look with a pointed one of his own, “We kind of broke up, but now she want me to find another date.”
“So? Just find someone, Lance.” You give him a funny look as you fix the way your glasses are situated on your face and read the texts between the two siblings as you slightly lean over your best friend sitting next to you.
He sneakily places his arm around your shoulder in almost a reflex kind of way, as he argues, “I can’t just bring someone to my sister’s wedding, Y/N, she’s going to have the pictures up on her wall for the rest of her life or something.” He swats your hand away with a weak slap as you try to coo over his response, claiming that he is too sweet for this world when he asks, “Who are you bringing to the wedding, anyway?”
“No one,” you shrug, earning yourself a look from the man sitting next to you, “I’m not a Stroll, Lance, I don’t need to bring a date – ergo, I won’t.”
His eyes narrow on the edge as his voice comes off  doubtful, “So I have to find someone to bring to the wedding but you can choose not to?” The nod you give him makes him let out a loud groan, making you giggle as he adds, “Is it too late to ask your parents to adopt me?”
“How more dramatic can you be?” You laugh into the edge of your wine glass as you take a small sip, and then think for a moment as you roll your lips together. “Just ask someone you know to come with you, they’ll get a nice weekend out of it and you won’t disappoint Chloe.”
“You say as if it’s easy,” Lance sighs, but his eyes take on a mischievous glint as you realise he’s had one of his bright ideas and the next words prove that it’s, in fact, one of them. “Be my date.”
Your voice is squeaky as you get out, “Excuse me?”
“I need a date,” he point to himself, and then points the same finger to you, “you don’t have a date. I don’t want to take some random girl off my contacts list to my sister’s wedding, so it makes sense.”
“I- I can’t be your date, Lance!” You exclaim, jumping back slightly to shoot him a full on glare. “You’re my friend,” you emphasise the word, “my best friend.”
“Why not? It’s better than going with a random date.” He argues, “Plus, we’ll tell everyone that we’re trying to work things out and after the wedding we’ll tell them it didn’t work out – problem solved.”
“Problem not solved,” you contend. “I don’t want to lie to everyone, Lance, especially not to our families.”
“You’re not saying no.” He sings, a small smirk playing on his lips.
You give him a light shove as you mumble, “Shut up, I’m serious.”
“So am I, Y/N.” He sighs as he takes your free hand into his, which makes you involuntarily drag your index finger towards his palm, something you used to do to help him calm down when he was dealing with his wrists at the start of the season. It makes him smile softly at you when he realises it’s a thing that calms you down as much as it calms him down. “It’s not lying, it’s us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your voice is lower than before, but you can’t put your finger as to whether it’s because you’re confused or something about the nature of this whole arrangement is scary to you – you pray that it’s the first, but something in your gut tells you it’s the latter.
The smile he gives you in return to your question can only be described as ‘warm’ – it’s soft, and it makes his eyes crinkle, and it’s just so him. “It means that people won’t question how we ended up together, especially our families.”
What he’s saying and suggesting makes sense, you realise. He needs a date and you can help your friend out – plus, it would be good not to hear your mother complain about how you’re single in your twenties for a change. You try to think whether you’d even think about actually accepting to fake date someone if the person asking wasn’t your best friend in the whole world. But with Lance giving you an expectant look and looking so cosy on your couch, coupled with the two glasses of wine you’ve had as an incentive to write, you find yourself giving the man sitting beside you a nod of your approval.
“Fine,” you sigh, “but if this blows up all in our face, I’m blaming you and telling everyone you forced me.”
“Pfft,” he scoffs, pulling you into a side hug as the fighting noises from your TV blends into the background, “it’s going to be great, you just wait and see.”
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Weddings are epitome of romance in every conceivable way. And Chloe Stroll’s wedding? It is safe to say that her wedding is the level of magical that fairy tales aspire to achieve. Ever since you’ve stepped foot in Italy, you’re captivated by the views and the atmosphere of having all the people there for such a special occasion. The wedding venue is a stunning villa nestled in the rolling hills of Tuscany, with lush gardens and a breathtaking view of the countryside. Soft music floats through the air as guests mingle and soak in the romantic ambiance. Turns out Lance was right, after all, and both of your parents are ecstatic that you showed up together – and no one bats an eye when he wraps his arm around you to help you onto the boat, or how his hand linger a bit longer on your hip.
Another thing people don’t seem to focus? How his eyes seem to focus on your every move as you dance with one of Scotty’s cousins, or is he one of his friends? Frankly, Lance doesn’t care about the specifics. He is more focused on the way the man you’re dancing with makes you throw your head back in laughter and the genuine smile that lights up your face. Lance watches from a distance, his heart swelling with a mixture of happiness because of how happy you look, and a touch of jealousy because it is not with him. But seeing you so carefree and radiant in someone else's arms stirs up emotions he can't quite ignore. But all of that is thrown right out the metaphorical window once you excuse yourself from your new friend, and find yourself back to him – basically throwing yourself into his arms and asking him to dance with you.
“I don’t know sweetheart, weren’t you just dancing with your new friend?” He asks, and though he immediately regrets the snarky words leaving his mouth, which reflect all his jealousy at the moment, you just smile up at him with the softest smile he’s ever seen.
Instead of lingering on his words, you let out a small giggle, “I can’t slow dance with him, Lance, he is not my date!”
“Oh,” he murmurs, “right.”
“So, will you dance with me?” You ask him again, your voice filled with more excitement than before. Your lips form a small pout as you add, “Please?”
His eyes linger on your expression for a moment, and he links his fingers through yours as he leads you onto the dance floor to join the couples who already started dancing. “Let’s go,” as soon as the words leave his mouth, a small smile is quick to overtake his face as you let out a small squeal and a giggle.
As the two of you find your place on the dance floor, Lance pulls you closer, his hand resting gently on your waist. The soft melody of a romantic song fills the air, setting the perfect mood for a slow dance. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and suddenly you realise it’s much easier to focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat rather than the song which is playing on the background.
Lost in the moment, Lance whispers softly into your ear, "You look absolutely stunning tonight, you know that?" You can tell his words are filled with sincerity, and he makes you feel all the admiration he feels for you at that moment.
You give him a playful smile as you do the one thing Lance absolutely hates and answer his question with a question of your own, “Yeah? You like my dress?”
“You know I do,” he shakes his head, lips unable to stop themselves from forming a smile.
Sighing out a satisfied sound, you let fingers occupy themselves with the short strand of hairs on this nape. “Well good, Chloe said you’d appreciate the colour
– through jealousy is not a good colour on you.”
Lance chuckles, the sound rumbling against your cheek as you continue to sway together. "Chloe knows me too well," he replies, his voice filled with warmth, "I’ll just have to thank her for the dress."
“You better,” you scoff, your breath hitting his neck in the process, “it was an absolute pain to put it on.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” his fingers smooth over a crease near your hip, “I’ll help you get it off.”
You pause for a moment, the playful banter fading into a charged silence as his words hang in the air. The intensity of his gaze meets yours, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere, a magnetic pull drawing you closer together. Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself lost in the colour of his eyes. There's an undeniable chemistry between you, one that the two of you have been ignoring for a while, and one that has been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.
With a playful smile that eventually finds its way on your lips, you raise your head slightly to get a better look at him, “You’re drunk, Lance,” you announce.
Lance's grip on you tightens ever so slightly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your back. “What is it they say? Drunk words, sober thoughts.” Another squeal leaves your lips as he slowly dips you down, but you know he won’t let you fall.
As he pulls you up again and presses his forehead against yours, and as his nose nudge against yours which causes both of you to release breathy laughs, your voice is almost pleading, “Lance, I–”
“I know, sweetheart,” his voice is soft as he mumbles, and he repeats himself after dragging out a deep breath, “I know “I know but you deserve something better.”
But the question of what something better might be lingers in your mind.
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It’s almost the morning when the wedding celebrations come to a pause, and you quickly find yourself on your way back to the hotel with Lance. Hand in hand, you walk along the dimly lit streets, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the night. The city is calm and peaceful, its beauty enhanced by the memories you've created during the wedding festivities. Lance steals occasional glances at you, a gentle smile playing on his lips, as if trying to etch this moment into his memory – you try to act as if you don’t notice, but the same gentle smile finds itself onto your lips every time you catch his eyes on you. As a true gentleman, he lets you lean against him in the elevator, knowing that you’re probably more tired than him because of your choice of shoes.
The soft hum of the elevator and the comforting embrace of Lance lull you into a sense of tranquillity. But all of that calmness is gone once the elevator stops at your floor and Lance pulls you closer as he walks you to your room. With each step, you become more aware of Lance's presence beside you. His warmth radiates, providing a comforting reassurance amidst the late-night stillness. The soft light from the hallway casts a warm glow on his face, highlighting the gentle curves and lines that make him uniquely him. You think the anticipation might actually kill you in the moment, but like a true gentleman, Lance takes out your room key and hands it to you – but even in that simple moment, you feel your entire body lighting up with something more for your best friend.
Your breath hitches once again that evening when Lance’s hands gently cup your face, but he lets you go once he presses his lips lightly on your forehead and gently rests your forehead against yours. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
You feel your heart drop as he pulls away from you, all the adrenaline you’ve been feeling slowly dissipates. A mix of emotions washes over you as Lance pulls away and leaves you standing there, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. The brief moment of intimacy between you leaves you longing for more, and you find yourself mumbling, “I thought I deserve ‘something better’.”
“Y/N,” Lance’s voice is soft, but you’re quick to cut him off.
“I- I just thought you might’ve been talking about yourself, you know?” You let out a nervous chuckle as you shake your head, “It doesn’t matter, it’s presumptuous – oh my god I am an egomaniac.” Taking a small step towards him, you give him the world’s most awkward hug, and slowly start to pull away.
Without you knowing behind his horrified look, Lance has the opportunity to put his quick decision-making skills to test. He knows that he can either let you go, which means the two of you will stay friends, or he can actually do what he wanted to do for a very long time – which has the potential to blow up in his face. So, this time he takes a step towards you, and manages to grab your wrist in time to pull you against himself. Pressing his lips onto yours in a haste kiss, he manages to take your breath away for the second time that night, and you realise what’s actually happening after a small brain malfunction. For a moment, you're both suspended in that kiss, your hearts pounding in sync. It's a moment of pure vulnerability and undeniable passion, a culmination of unspoken desires and the unravelling of emotions that have been building between you for far too long. But you can feel him smiling into the kiss as your lips start to move against his. He tries to pull away, but you chase his lips in what you can only describe as hunger, and both of you let out breathy chuckles as you manage to capture his lips in a kiss once again.
When you finally break apart, gasping for air, your eyes meet Lance's. His grip on your wrist tightens, as if he’s afraid to let you go, and in an attempt to calm his worries, you snake your hand into his and drag your index finger towards the center of his palm. “I meant what I said,” he says, breathily, “you deserve something better.”
“Lance,” you almost seem to grumble his name, “you are the ‘something better’.”
“Well I hoped you’d say that.” He nods his head, and throws you over his shoulder to walk towards his own hotel door.
A mixture of surprise and laughter escaping your lips, you playfully swat at his back as you try to urge him to put you down, but he just chuckles and continues on his mission. As the door to Lance's room closes behind you, the world outside fades away, and you find yourself enveloped in a bubble of anticipation and excitement. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Lance gently sets you down on your feet. The room is dimly lit, casting a romantic glow that accentuates the chemistry between you. The air is charged with unspoken desires and a magnetic pull that draws you closer together. Lance takes a step towards you, his gaze filled with longing and affection. Without a word, he reaches out to cup your face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender and passionate kiss.
In that moment, all doubts and uncertainties melt away, replaced by the overwhelming certainty that you've found something truly special. It's a love that has been quietly brewing beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself. As your lips move together in a dance of shared desire, time seems to stand still. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate and electrifying connection. Every touch, every caress, ignites a fire within you, and you find yourself getting lost in the depths of Lance's embrace.
When you finally break apart, your eyes lock, and a shared understanding passes between you. It's a silent promise, a mutual agreement to explore this newfound love and see where it leads. With a smile that speaks volumes, Lance intertwines his fingers with yours, pulling you closer as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I promised you I’d take your dress off, didn’t I?”
852 notes · View notes
hellsburners · 10 months
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thin walls
summary: this new york city apartment has terrible walls! pairing: matt murdock x gender neutral!reader word count: 934 warnings: 18+ warning, masturbation, perv!matt, eavesdropping, mutual masturbation kinda?, sex toy use, neighbor!matt a/n: was writing for a request but this prompt came to mind lol.
masterlist | more matt murdock
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Matt Murdock let out a yawn listening to his screen reader, neck aching, lids half-hooded at this point. It was well beyond the night for this lawyer of Hell’s Kitchen. It was definitely nothing new, taking hours doing research for a case. The week has been busy for him, balancing pro-bono cases and bigger cases to pay for the bills, this didn’t even include his nightly duties to the Kitchen. 
Matt was in his dining area with his laptop and tons of paperwork, one earbud on as the robotic voice of the reader blurred in his tired brain. He pauses the audio and rests his face on his hands. The sounds of his neighborhood started to flood his senses, the dogs barking, the couples fighting, the crying babies, it was all making his head hurt. He tries to breathe his way into silencing the noises, purely focusing on blocking them all out when he hears a moan and buzzing sound from the unit next door. He knew who you were, you’ve exchanged greetings before, you even gave him packed food on Christmas day. It was a warm gesture, something that rarely happens in this neighborhood he loves to protect. 
With Matt tuning his senses to the sounds coming from your room he hears what you’re doing clearly. You were on your bed, he heard the way the bed creaks and the way the cotton sheets brush on your shirt, you were completely naked waist down, the vibrating toy in between your legs teases you sex. It was a gift from your friend, you told them it was embarrassing and that you would never use it anyway, but here you were holding the six-inch pink vibrator in your hands. 
On the other side of the wall Matt could hear you spread lube on the vibrating device. He furrowed his brows and removed the earbud to fully listen to what’s happening. Matt knew it was wrong, he purposely intended to only use his hightented abilities for good, not for eavesdropping on your neighbor masturbating. He loosens his tie from the heat starting to burn inside him, unbuttoning the first two buttons from his shirt. He hears your soft moans from you teasing your sex with the vibrator, you try to increase the intensity and you suddenly shudder from the shock of pleasure. At the same time, Matt could feel his own erection form. 
Your mind wandered to the hot neighbor you had, with his red glasses, unkempt stubble, and his soft lips. You wondered what it would feel to have those lips on your skin, the softness of his kisses with the roughness of his facial hair trailing down your body to your center. Your eyes closed as you dive deeper into your fantasy, moaning while your thighs move closer. You were reminded of that time you saw him take a package left on his doorstep with the name “Foggy” written on it. He was only clothed from the waist down with worn out sweatpants with the hems tucked into old cotton socks. You marveled at his toned body, his big arms, his broad chest and his abs. You couldn’t help but stare as he bent down and his muscles contracted into deeper lines making them more defined. 
“Fuck,” you said as you started to put the vibrator in your sex, feeling your muscles tense and give into the sensations. The lube added more ease to the thrusts you were doing to your center. You gripped the sheets as you moaned. In your head the pleasure wasn’t from a toy but from the man in the unit next door. 
Behind the thin wall Matt Murdock was also in the middle of pleasure. He had opened his trousers and was pumping his dick to the sounds from the other room. Your voice starts to pitch higher from the immense pleasure. You muffle your moans with your other hand as you continue to fuck yourself. In a twisted use of his abilities, Matt could single out the  moments the vibrator would go in and out of you. He used that chance to pump his dick in the same rhythm to yours. 
Come on, sweetheart, let me hear your moans, he whispers under his breath, his chest rising and falling. He spits into his cock to give him some lubrication so his thrusts could be faster. You were a whimpering mess, your hand leaves your mouth to play with your nipples. You wanted to call for his name. The name of the man next door. Matt was it? Your orgasm was close. Your body slightly convulsing, tears pooling in your eyes. You wanted him so badly, want to feel his cock as it thrusts inside you. You want to feel him lose himself in your arms. A carnal desire looms over the both of you.
“I want you so bad, Matt,” you moaned. Matt was shocked to hear you moan his name, and how you wanted him. Wanton lust pulses through Matt’s body as he cums. His senses focusing on your beautiful noises, his cum pools on his abdomen as he climaxes.
The tension inside you loosens as you give out your release. You give out one last moan before you fall back to the mattress. You turn off the device and take it out of you. You lay there in your bed, ashamed of what you’ve done. The same way Matt feels. Sin won tonight in Hell’s Kitchen, wherein you and the devil lost yourselves to lust. Matt wondered if it would happen again tomorrow night. 
He grins.
interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>
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elizais · 3 months
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black and blue
pm!reader x chuuya summary: reader comes back from a long mission exhausted, hurt/comfort, chuuya takes care of you warnings: alcohol, injuries
mori knew you would be gone for a few weeks, but chuuya knew you would be gone for too long. everyone knew about you and chuuya, staying in their line but always discussing how the executive who put people in their place was with the only ray of sunshine in the organisation. executive nakahara did care for his subordinates, but didn't show it like you did. you weren't open about how you joined but everyone had their theories because it didn't add up compared to your kind nature. only a few people knew why you were there, you didn't dwell on it. you didn't enjoy this line of work but you done it to protect the city you held so dear to your heart.
you had been at the port mafia for so long your only boss was mori, you stood with the executives. fortunately, this meant less missions away and taking care of your people in your section. unfortunately.. this meant the most important assignments went to your level. it just so happened to be that your specialised skills were the only ones to fit this task. it was dropped on you at an executives meeting. mori sat in his chair at the end of the table. looking up and down his sheet of paper, every last executive bored to death.
you looked at chuuya across from you, finishing your doodle with a smile. elise was sat next to you and the other side of you was kouyou. you lifted up the notepad so that chuuya saw the blank side of it and you nudged elise. she began to laugh at your very unflattering drawing of a carrot wearing a hat. knowing exactly who it was directed to. in the middle of entertaining elise, mori spoke again after inspecting details on the document that could upset a room in seconds.
he cleared his throat as he said, "there is an incredibly strong organisation emerging in another city. it will have to be taken down by one of you guys." he paused as he inspected the faces of the people who carried this city on their shoulders with him.
despite your playful nature, mori knew better than most how serious you could be for the sake of your home. "it will be y/n." he watched elise's face drop almost as fast as the colour drained from chuuya's face. no matter the amount of protesting from other executives, elise, even the lowest members (most likely only caring because chuuya is less likely to be angry when you are around). mori had told you that in two days time, you would leave for at least a week.
and that is what lead you to now. chuuya had been noticeably off his game for the past 12 days, everyone knew the reason. no contact was allowed at all. but, as he settled in to being back at the large penthouse after another long day, the home your paychecks covered more than comfortably, that felt a little larger now. the man got up to pour himself a glass of wine, allowing the screen on the wall to load up. as he sat back down and flicked through the mindless tv shows on, a groan came from behind the elevator after the familiar noise of an incorrect code, and then the ding of the correct one. his body immediately knew who it was, his face lit up and he forgot about everything bad in the world.
until, the person who he wished he could always be around was looking at him through bloodshot eyes surrounded by ominous dark circles. his idea of happiness and all things lovely was leaning on the wall for support with an unusual unkempt look.
his love looked like she fought a bear in the elevator, she saw him for the first time and allowed her tired face to use the last of her energy to smile. he immediately ran over to you. you had sunk against the wall with your legs in front of you. chuuya thought he was under a horrible ability until you spoke to him "i missed you, chu.." you spoke croaky, weak and coarse. your broken voice pierced his heart with the shards it left in the air.
your scalp had dried blood clinging to it, every other inch of your body scraped and scratched. he was thankful there weren't any deeper wounds, other than the one that appeared inside of him. "c'mere doll," he spoke to you, barely above a whisper. despite what many think, he is still exceptionally strong without his ability. seamlessly, he picked you up from under your shoulders, pressing your chest to his and allowing your head to look over his shoulder. "let's get you a bath." he finished as he carried your body through the corridors of your home.
he was thankful that your 'expensive taste in bathrooms' (as he always teased) lead to large, marble counters attached to the wall, so he could let you sit on them and lean against the wall as he ran the water into the corner bathtub you also insisted on getting. "do you want to talk about it?" he asked you with his sympathetic tone. "mori was not joking when he said they were strong.." you tried to laugh out but it came out emotionless as you looked at chuuya grabbing the bandages in the cupboard. "you don't need to try and keep everyone in a good mood at the cost of your own, y/n" he responded with his back turned to you.
"aren't those the ones dazai has for when he comes over for a movie night?" you dodged his previous statement with your question. chuuya scowled at the mention of his name even though you know he trusts him.
"yes, they are. damn mackerel always inviting himself over." he spoke as he grabbed a washcloth to gently clean your face whilst taking off your clothing. you knew he wasn't doing it in a sexual manner and was genuinely worried. "did you take down their boss?" he spoke after a comfortable silence. "barely." you sighed.
after he cleaned the dried dirt off with the washcloth, he lifted you into the bath and soon he followed suit, grabbing a gentle shampoo, the matching conditioner for your hair, and a hairbrush. he was not sure if you even saw the state your hair that you love dearly was in.
as he sat down by you in the tub, he turned your head so he could brush your hair, gently wetting it so that it would be easier to get through. you leaned back, almost falling asleep. he didn't mention the jagged cuts in your hair or the thinner patches. he could tell you were in a close combat fight and his heart broke. chuuya assumed you hadn't seen your hair yet, he didn't ask as you had finally steadied yourself since arriving home.
he didn't notice you falling asleep until your head fell to his chest, using his gravity manipulation to keep you sat upright without noticing as he finished taking care of your hair.
eventually, he dried your body and hair whilst moving you with his ability so you could stay asleep. waking up the next morning in your bed like you should.
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lokischambermaid · 6 days
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Battle Scars: Steve x YN 🪶🥰
Summary: You give Steve some well-deserved tender loving care by cleaning the wound he acquired during his mission.
Warnings: Mild descriptions of a wound.
Words: 1,100
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“Hey thank you for doin’ this.”
“Steve I don't even know what I'm doing.”
You swished a finger around the tupperware container on the nightstand, the boiled water mercifully dropping in temperature. Scolding his skin - or yours - wouldn't help. Carefully, you lifted the plastic tub from the nightstand to the floor beside you, water sloshing up the sides. Steve sat on the floor leaning his back against the side of the bed, navy blue tactical suit zipped down to his waist framing a grubby white vest.
“Well you look the part,” he grinned, nodding towards your latex gloves and the generous selection of gauze surrounding your kneeling form.
You pressed your phone to light the screen. “Clean cut laterally in one motion using a clean piece of gauze each time,” you read aloud. “Okay, here goes.” You dipped the small piece of cotton in the warm water, squeezing it, wondering if you added enough salt. That made the water sterile, or so Google said.
One gentle hand cupped his jawline, the other swiping the wet gauze over the gash across his forehead. You changed tactics, bringing your hand from his jaw to the side of the wound, pulling the skin taut as you reached into the water again.
“I’ve never really, err….. had anyone to do this,” he confessed as you worked. “I mean, Buck always has my back but it’s not the same, you know?”
“Not the same,” you smirked, swiping the wound once more, pleased with how much easier it was now you held his skin taut. “How so?”
“Well for a start, his hands are a lot rougher.” His little quip caused you to chuckle. “So thank you. For doing this. But you know,” he cast you a fleeting glance with his devastating blue eyes, “I can’t shake the feeling it should be the other way around.”
As he talked, you finished the cleaning part of the process. You held a dry gauze now, dabbing it around the four-inch cut. You didn't know how he got it. You didn't like to ask, and suspected it would be met with humble rebuffs of, You shouldda seen the other guy.
“What do you mean, baby? The other way around?”
“Me. Taking care of you.”
You placed your items to the side and held his large hands in yours.
“You do take care of me. You protect me. All the time. And make me feel safe.”
“Well, I’m glad to do it,” he looked away, fair cheeks dimpling. “And…. you know what, you’re right. If I was taking care of your cuts and bruises then I definitely haven’t done what I’m supposed to.”
You wanted to hug him. You didn’t want to squeeze him too tight in case he was sore from his mission. So you spoke as softly as you could.
“It’s not your job to save everyone Steve.”
He chuckled, wishing there was his team’s stylised ‘A’ on the wall that he could gesture to. “I think my pay cheque would say otherwise.”
“Okay, fair enough, it is literally your job.” You glanced at the bottle of antiseptic. “Baby, I’m so sorry…… this is going to sting.”
“It’s okay. Hit me with it.” His hand gestured for you to go right ahead.
You picked up the brown glass bottle and softly tapped his enormous shoulder with it, chuckling. “You said hit me with it.”
“You're hilarious.” Deadpan in tone, he rolled his eyes, lips fighting against tugging up at the corners.
You held a cotton-wool ball ball at the start of the gash, soaked in the medical-scented ointment. You loved the smell. The sensation Steve was about to have, not so much. “Okay, here goes.” You dabbed lightly over exposed skin and blood, a bruise already forming around the incision.
He sucked in air through his teeth. Sharp. Sudden. Pained.
You stopped.
“No no, I'm alright.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” He paused. “Yeah…..” He swallowed, eyes crinkling and nose creasing mutely as you continued the final step of tending to his abrasions. He continued talking, eyes closed as you worked.
“You know, it’s my job, but it's more than that. It's my responsibility.”
He was bone-tired from battle. Grubby marks all over his arms. His face. And here he was talking about saving people. Would it be inappropriate, you wondered, to slide his tactical suit down a little lower, and give him the softest, slowest, most relaxing fellacio of his life? You decided against it. Maybe later. Shaking the impure thoughts from your mind, which was as filthy as Steve's tank top, you continued listening to him.
“Even before the Avengers, I was a soldier. I was paid to fight. Made for it. Chosen.”
“I've always seen you as more of a first responder than a soldier. You don’t fight, so much. You rescue.” You slipped off your latex gloves inside out, discarding them in tight ball.
He opened his eyes, placing a large palm over his heart, lips offering you a soft smile. He had never felt quite so seen. You didn’t just see the qualities he wore on his sleeve. You saw several layers deeper. You recognised the roots of all of his well-loved traits. The values that drove him. The reason he worked so hard. You saw it even when he didn’t see it himself. Especially then.
He rescued the vulnerable because he knew what it was like to feel helpless. To desperately want to be strong enough to fight the enemy, and be physically unable to. Whether it was trying to get into the army as a skinny new recruit…… or a terrified New Yorker ducking behind a car door as aliens ravaged the city.
It was all the same.
To Steve, it was all the same.
Help those in need. Because you can.
Because at one time, you couldn’t.
And the only reason that you can today, is because a kind doctor offered you their own form of rescue.
Being of service was the blood rushing through his veins. He wasn’t sure who he was without it. If he wasn’t an Avenger, perhaps he would have become a doctor. Or a counsellor. A mentor, perhaps. One of life’s helpers.
But just because helping others was the foundation upon which his life was built, it didn’t mean he had to mentally and physically exhaust himself in the process.
“I know it’s who you are, baby. And I’d never change that about you. I suppose I was speaking poetically… as in, it’s not your sole responsibility. It doesn’t fall squarely on your shoulders all of the time, every second of every day. You put so much pressure on yourself. There are others who can help too. Your team.”
“Yeah, but…” He paused as you placed a kiss on the battle-marred skin on the side of his temple, a mere inch from his wound. “If I’m not at my best they can’t be at theirs.”
You raked your fingers through blond hair, feeling grit in his soft locks. “You’re a good man, Steve.”
“Yeah I know.” He smirked playfully. “I know.”
Taggos: @lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @flesh--amnesiacunrated @skymoonandstardust @alexakeyloveloki @cabingrlandrandomcrap @cakesandtom @mrs-illyrian-baby @muddyorbsblr @irishhappiness @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @glitchquake @dangertoozmanykids101 @animnerd @wavyhairedvixen @emarich7 @km-ffluv @thegodofnotknowing @simplyholl @acidcasualties @foxherder @salempoe @loz-3 @late-to-the-party-81 @mochie85 @divine-knight-hand @loopsisloops
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ggomos-maribat · 7 months
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4 | in which a boy becomes jealous of his niece
Part 4 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
When Bruce heard that Diana and Clark were both in the city for work, he decided to kill two birds with one stone and invite them for lunch and a meeting in his office. He even had Tim in attendance, so he could give his opinions for the League-related discussions. They were deep into intergalactic affairs when a knock rapped on the door.
"Mr. Wayne?" Marinette called out from outside.
Bruce wondered why she was knocking, since she knew he had guests over. Marinette never disturbed him if he had guests. Is there an emergency?
Tim was quick on his feet as he opened the door for her. Marinette's head peeked out, looking a little shy. "Sorry to interrupt, but I've got something to show you urgently."
Bruce gave an apologetic smile. "Can it wait until later—"
Tim cut in, "It's a casual meeting, B, let the girl in."
With Clark and Diana's gazes on him, he conceded and motioned for Tim to let his assistant in. The girl carried her tablet inside, setting it up on the table in front of them. "There was an intruder last night in your office. I managed to extract the audio feed and sync it up with the video footage."
The glint in his son's eye already gave Bruce a foreboding feeling. Tim gasped dramatically. "An intruder? How scary!"
"I'd like to show you so you can confirm his words." Marinette pursed her lips. "Batman visited last night."
"Batman?" Clark's gaze wandered off towards Bruce.
The assistant nodded solemnly and pressed a key to play the video. "He came in late at night to 'retrieve something' but I did suspect he was stealing."
Like the nosey coworkers they were, the two League members immediately slid towards either side of Bruce to get a glimpse of the screen. Bruce's encounter with the knife-wielding Marinette was caught clear as day on the camera—he started to feel heat rush to his cheeks.
Tim attempted (and failed) to mask his laughter with a cough while Diana didn't hold back at all, letting out a chuckle as they watched.
"I think that's enough of—" Bruce stretched his arm to pause the video but Clark moving to hold back his wrist was faster.
"No, it's important to see the whole thing, Bruce," his sly friend told him, "This is a security breach."
"He's right, Mr. Wayne." Marinette's eyebrows furrowed. "He slipped in so easily; our security system must be faulty if he was able to go inside without triggering alarms."
Bruce bit on his tongue and wished he could say something. But his assistant's blue eyes shone with so much innocent concern and worry that he couldn't stay firm. He leaned back and let the video finish, with amusement clear on Clark and Diana's faces and Tim wheezing behind him.
He cleared his throat. "Thank you for bringing this up, Marinette, but Batman is right. We had a prior agreement so he's allowed in the office."
"But why associate with Batman at all?" She tilted her head. "Is he one of your lovers?"
Bruce was pretty sure Tim just choked on air.
"We both save the city, in our own ways that is." Bruce internally cringed at his explanation. "I think we both have the same goals and I'm happy to help him if it means Gotham is safe."
"No offense, but he's a recluse. You can do better, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce glanced at his two fellow founding members. "I'm sure he's got some friends of his own."
"I don't know." Clark pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I've talked to Superman a few times and according to him, the Bat is a weirdo."
Marinette's eyes widened. "Weird how? Oh, that reminds me . . ." She pulled out something from her pocket: the same Batarang Bruce had thrown at her. "He pinned my sleeve to the wall! It's going to take forever to mend."
Bruce looked away guiltily.
Clark shook his head in faux disappointment. "That's awful. Superman says he's always like that—cold like a stone wall, very grumpy, and protective over his secret identity."
"It seems that Batman was very much caught off by your presence, Marinette," Diana added.
Tim was already silent-laughing by Bruce's desk, knocking his fist on top of it while holding his middle.
"Sorry, Marinette, we have other things to discuss here." Bruce forced out a smile again. "I'll tell Batman not to come unannounced again. Thanks for telling me right away. If you'd like, I can pay for your blazer to get fixed."
Marinette pocketed the Batarang and picked up her tablet. "Sure, but to be honest, I'd rather have a personal apology."
"I agree, Bruce, he should show some remorse." Clark nonchalantly sipped from his drink.
"I'll—I'll make sure he does that."
***
Bruce was sitting in his office's lounge with stacks of binders and envelopes scattered all over the table. Sat across him was Marinette, who was helping him organize the upcoming hectic schedule for the company. He pointed to an empty spot on the paper calendar. "What if we put the grand opening on the sixth? That would give us enough time to prepare."
Marinette spoke slowly. "Why on the sixth?"
"It's free, isn't it?"
She decided to continue to stare at him wordlessly, waiting for something to strike him. He only stared back dumbfoundedly at first but after a few beats, Marinette saw the exact moment the realization dawned on him.
Cue the panicked Bruce Wayne.
Marinette went back to scribbling on her notebook. "How can you forget the birthday of your only grandchild, Mr. Wayne?"
"It slipped my mind." Bruce visibly gulped. "I haven't prepared a gift yet."
"It's a week away."
"Yes . . . yes I'm aware."
She gave her subtle but pointed look. She should've predicted this, in all honesty—Bruce seemed to be extremely swamped both inside and outside work the past few days. But she expected him to have the date marked on his personal calendar at least.
"If I start on the handmade gift tonight, there should be enough time for me to finish by the sixth," she told him.
He pursed his lips, "No, I can't possibly ask that from you. It wouldn't be a gift from me if it's you making it."
"Do you have other ideas then?"
Bruce came up with a blank. He shook his head, clearly in distress.
"Then allow me to make it, Mr. Wayne," she insisted as she clicked her pen. "If you're the one to pick the design I'm sure she will love it."
He breathed out, practically slumping on the sofa. "Thank you, Marinette, you're a lifesaver."
"That's not the magic word."
"I'll pay double your—no I'll pay triple your salary. That should cover the materials cost and work for it."
Marinette nodded in satisfaction. Triple was already a lot more than her usual commission prices. She looked over the scheduled events and tried to work out another suitable schedule. "I'll have the design options ready by tomorrow—I'm thinking of a thick cardigan—so please get her measurements from Mr. Pennyworth."
***
Marinette was running in heels. Sweat clung to the nape of her neck as she caught her breath in front of the manor gates. The rude taxi driver had dropped her off a good distance away from her destination, making her horribly late for the party when she had an important package to deliver.
She stared down at the gift bag with a neat little bow hanging from her wrist. Bruce had told her that he was going to be late to the birthday party and tasked her to get the gift there first . . . without much excuse for his tardiness. And when there was a flimsy excuse, it only meant that he was attending to something Batman-related.
After fixing her appearance and checking her reflection through her phone, she ventured into the back garden where the Wayne family had set up a modest party: a few family friends had been invited, standing around the long banquet table with finger foods and there were some picnic blankets laid around. The weather seemed to be in good favor just for Mar'i Grayson, who squealed and jumped into Marinette's arms the moment she saw her.
"Marinette!" The girl beamed. "You're here!"
Well . . . Marinette wasn't invited in the first place. She was there thanks to Bruce. Behind Mar'i, she saw Dick whispering to Kor'i with a frown, probably voicing out his disappointment that Bruce wasn't there yet.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." She smiled back.
Mar'i looked around. "Where's grandpa?"
"Uhh, your grandpa's running a little late today but he had me deliver this!" Marinette held up the bag, drawing out a look of wonder from the child. "Happy birthday, Princess."
The girl was already bouncing on her heels. "What's in it? What's in it?"
"Why don't you open it to find out?" A new voice said.
Marinette hoped no one heard her sigh of relief. Bruce had just appeared, but his tousled hair and wrinkled clothes indicated that he dressed himself in a rush.
"Grandpaaaaa!" Mar'i ran to her grandfather and he easily lifted her up.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart. I'm sorry I'm late." Bruce tapped the tip of her nose.
The girl giggled. "It's okay, there's still cake for you!"
"Why don't you open up your gift?"
Marinette moved aside and watched with anticipation as Mar'i peeked into the bag. She couldn't help the smile tugging on her lips when she saw green eyes lighting up in delight. Mar'i held out the soft pink cardigan adorned with patterns of a figure resembling Silkie, along with a little crocheted bag in the shape of a star.
Even though Bruce nearly forgot the date, he picked out a fitting design.
"I love it!" Mar'i gasped, immediately slipping the cardigan on. "Thank you, grandpa!"
With her job done, Marinette retreated towards the refreshments table where, to her surprise, Damian offered her a glass of water. His gaze seemed to be trained on the gift, which Mar'i was proudly showing off to the other guests.
"Is that your handiwork?" He asked.
"Do you want one too?" Marinette teased after she downed the whole glass. "I'll make one for you on your birthday if Mr. Wayne forgets yours too." 
He snorted. "I didn't say that. And Father will not forget my birthday."
"You sure about that?"
"You will be reminding him either way anyway." Damian sipped on his own drink. "You didn't have to make the gift for the sake of covering up Father's mistake."
"He paid me well, so it's fine."
"Still, he should've been the one who made the effort."
"He's right, Marinette, you didn't have to." Dick came up to them, handing a slice of cake to Marinette. "Old man's tendency to forget isn't new."
Marinette gave a grateful smile as she took a bite of the pink-and-purple frosted cake. "It's alright really. I wouldn't have offered to help but I didn't want Mar'i to celebrate without a gift from Mr. Wayne."
"It must've been a lot of trouble." Dick briefly looked at the wrist brace around her hand.
"Ah, this isn't from making the cardigan. Don't worry," she lied.
"I heard he only asked for the cardigan," said Dick. "What about the bag?"
Marinette's gaze traveled towards Mar'i again. The girl was stuffing her new bag with candies from Roy as her mother fixed her hair. "Just an accessory to match the cardigan. Consider it a gift from me."
"Thank you, Marinette." Dick nodded, looking at his daughter with a soft expression. "And I'm sorry for all the trouble on behalf of Bruce."
When Dick left (presumably to pull Bruce to the side and talk to him), Marinette noticed the side-eyes Damian was giving her. She raised an eyebrow at him.
"You strained your hand making the cardigan didn't you?" he asked.
She put a finger up to her lips. "Let's keep that a secret between us." 
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