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spider-stark · 1 year

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SPIDER-BOY

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Thinking he has no chance with y/n as himself, Peter begins approaching them as Spider-Man.

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// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

Two months.

That was how long it had been since Peter first indulged in his ridiculous idea of talking to you under the guise of Spider-Man. Of course he hadn’t meant for it to last this long, promising himself that it was just to help him build his confidence–maybe even learn a bit about what kind of things you liked–so that he could actually ask you out as himself. Unfortunately, though, things hadn’t gone quite as he had planned.

Spider-Man offered him a type of courage that he just wasn’t able to muster as Peter Parker. Under the cover of his mask he was able to come across as easy-going and flirtatious, never failing to leave your cheeks a deep crimson from the playful banter. Yet, when he did manage to speak to you as plain ole’ Peter, all of that was suddenly lost on him, leaving him a complete and total bumbling mess. As far as he was concerned, Peter Parker had no chance to be what any girl wanted, especially you. But Spider-Man was a different story.

And so he continued to exploit Spider-Man, using the masked hero as a means to continue getting closer to you, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to hide behind his secret identity forever. To be fair, he would rationalize to himself, Spider-Man had taken a lot from him, it was only fair that he got something in return.

Plus, the interactions had been mostly innocent. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself, opting to ignore the many times that coy attitudes began to border on actual sexual attraction. He tried not to think about those times (though there had been many nights where he purposely let those interactions slip into his mind, reliving them from the privacy of his bedroom), instead just promising himself that he wouldn’t let his romantic escapades as Spidey go too far.

“So,” your voice filled his ears, his heart skipping a few beats at the sound, “at what point should I start to wonder if you’re stalking me?”

Peter chuckled at the question, his fingers gripping the railing of the balcony to your apartment, effortlessly hanging from it. “Do you feel like I’m stalking you?”

“Hm,” you placed a finger against your chin, pretending to be deep in thought, evoking even more laughter from the boy. “Maybe a bit.”

“Oh yeah? What did I do to give that impression?”

“Well, to be fair, you’re currently dangling a couple hundred feet in the air off the side of my balcony.” You told him matter-of-factly, gesturing to where he was still hanging from the railing.

His brows furrowed beneath his mask, an expression that was barely noticeable due to the fabric covering his face. “And that makes me a stalker? I thought you’d find it romantic, a sort of Romeo-and-Juliet moment.”

“Romeo threw pebbles at her window, he didn’t scale an entire apartment building dressed in spandex.” You reminded him, “But, actually, it’s more so that I don’t remember ever giving you my address.”

Peter froze for a moment, having not thought about the fact that your previous run-ins with Spider-Man had always been in public spaces–catching you after work or just happening to bump into you on the street while patrolling–never at your home. He only knew where you lived because you had told him, but as Peter Parker, not Spider-Man, when the two of you were assigned to a project together last week. He mentally face-palmed at his own ignorance.

“Superheroes keep up with where all the pretty girls live. One of the lesser-known parts of the job.” He quipped, hoping that flattery would keep you from thinking too much into it. You only rolled your eyes at the comment, luckily not pressing any further.

“So what did I do to deserve a surprise Spidey visit this time?” You hummed, leaning back against the cold brick of your apartment building.

Peter hoisted himself over the edge of the balcony so that he was standing across from you, his arms finally beginning to ache from holding up his bodyweight for so long. “What, I’ve gotta have a reason to stop by and see my favorite civilian?”

“Civilian?” You snorted. “And here I was thinking you and I were friends.”

He dramatically placed his hands on either side of his face, feigning shock at your words, “Oh God no! You and me? Friends?” he let his hands fall to his waist, an exaggerated breath leaving his mouth, “No, not at all. I think that would be a conflict of interest.”

You cocked a brow at him, “How so?”

“I mean–I just think it would really interfere with our whole superhero slash damsel-in-distress routine, ya know?”

“Damsel-in-distress?” You gasped incredulously at the claim, though the corners of your mouth were still quirked up in a smile.

Peter nodded, “Uh, yeah. That’s literally our whole thing, isn’t it? You constantly running into trouble, me swinging in and saving your life.”

“You haven’t had to save my life once Spider-Boy.” Peter scoffed at the name, acting like he was insulted.

“Oh c’mon!” Peter dragged the word out, practically whining as he took a fraction of a step towards you, the movement enough to leave only a few inches between the both of you due to how small the balcony was. “You are literally always getting yourself into danger.”

“Okay,” You crossed your arms over your chest, craning your neck so that you could actually look up at him, the masked vigilante having several inches on you, “give me an example then.”

Peter rolled his eyes, a gesture only evident by the dramatic way his head moved along with them. He reached a gloved hand to your face, letting his fingertip gently brush against the semi-healed cut along your forehead. “You literally got this by tripping over your own shoes and banging your head against the counter at a coffee shop. Not to mention the fact that you spilled your entire coffee on yourself in the process.” He trailed away from the cut, moving to brush a stray hair behind your ear. He didn’t take his hand away, though, letting it rest against the side of your face. “You are always in danger because you are the danger.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, so quick that he didn’t even notice the reaction. He was right, you had done that, an unfortunate consequence of being the clumsiest person alive. But, still, his words left you confused; remaining silent for just a moment as you turned them over in your head. When you finally opened your mouth to speak you were cut off by the sound of distant sirens, a groan immediately coming from him, knowing that your interaction would now be cut short.

His thumb brushed against your cheek, acting as an unnecessary silent apology.

“Sounds like somebody needs Spider-Man.” You told him as he let his hand fall from your skin, forcing himself to the railing. If he didn’t go now, he wouldn’t leave at all. “You better hurry, it could be one of those pretty girls you keep tabs on.” You shot a teasing grin in his direction, referencing his earlier comment.

“Ugh, they just never give me a day off.” He joked, swinging his feet over the balcony railing before gripping onto it and allowing himself to once again hang from it. “Try not to trip into anything dangerous until I’m back.”

He turned his head and reached one hand out, likely to shoot a web at the building across from yours, but hesitated when he heard you speak again, a sudden panic filling his body at your words, “Be safe, Parker.”

The sirens continued blaring, growing closer with each second, but all he could hear was the sound of his own heart wildly thumping against his chest. “What?” He sounded completely dumbfounded, his head slowly turning back to look at you, only to find you standing with your own finger pointing to the cut he had traced on your forehead, a wide grin on your face.

“Spider-Man wasn’t there the day that I fell.” You shot a knowing glance in his direction, one that had his cheeks heating up. He had never been more thankful to be wearing a mask, aware that his face was likely beet red. “I asked Peter to meet me there so I could borrow his biology notes.”

Peter didn’t speak, too stunned by his own stupidity for slipping up and not thinking about how he was there that day as himself, not Spider-Man. This time you were the one to take a step forward and close the gap between you, having to lean down just a bit in order to be face-to-face as he dangled from the railing.

“You’re a lot more confident in the suit.” You mused, your hands finding the base of his mask, lightly tugging the material up to reveal his face. Even though it was dark out you could still see that he was blushing. “But I prefer you without it.”

His jaw fell slack, words getting caught in his throat as a million thoughts raced through his mind, though one thought in particular was a lot louder than the rest: I prefer you without it.

“You should definitely go.” The sirens were now close enough that you could actually see the faint red-and-blue lights a few streets over. He looked in the direction of them but still didn’t make a single move to leave. You seemed to recognize his hesitation, tugging the mask back down over his face. “If you ever remember how to talk then you can come back when you’re done. But ditch the mask.”

Peter nodded at your words, his eyes remaining glued to you as you straightened back up, turning your back to him to go back inside your apartment–leaving him to go off and be a hero. Once you were inside he couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he forced himself to get into motion, swinging in the direction of the police lights.

Turns out Peter Parker did have a chance.

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ellieluvr420 · 3 months

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Friends? Never. Pt.1 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

New fic alert? Can you tell I've got a thing for the enemies to lovers trope? Sorryyyyyy. I have loads of ideas for so many stories but this one made me too excited :D I can’t tell if the writing in this is ass but i’m just setting things up hold out hope for me people…

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Ellie opens the door of her new home only to see you, her least favourite person in Jackson, standing at her door with your suitcase in hand.

"No no no no no no no." You say as you immediately start walking away from her. You keep walking until you see Maria walking towards you.

"Don't even start-" She already knows what you're going to say.

"I am not fucking living with her Maria."

"Didn't I tell you not to start? You're wasting your breath anyway, this is the only way we can accommodate all the new arrivals."

"Why do you hate me?" You groan and she spins you around immediately marching you back to your new home.

"I don't, but you and Ellie are a pain in my ass, maybe make the most of it and try and get along hm?" She keeps you held firmly at the front door as she knocks three times.

"Back for more alrea-" Ellie pauses as she sees Maria standing there with a stern look on her face, she pushes you through the door and smiles.

"Enjoy setting up!" She calls over her shoulder and you're sure you hear her laugh.

"Fuck my life." You push past Ellie, bumping her hard enough that she stumbles slightly. You storm off upstairs to find your room huffing at your new reality.

You're unpacking all your belongings when you notice her standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you just gonna keep staring at me like a creep?"

"Are you gay?"

"Pardon?" You scoff at her bluntness but your heart was beating a mile a minute, you knew it wasn't a big deal, she's a lesbian herself, but for some reason you still found coming out to people so difficult. Your parents hadn't taken it well which is how you found yourself living on your own... well, with Ellie. You breathe in and regain your composure, turning to her and flashing a coy smirk. "Why do you want to know Williams? Got a little crush on me?"

"Ha! You wish. Just wondered seeing as you're nineteen and have never once even held a guys hand."

"Didn't realise you paid so much attention to me, should I be worried I have a stalker?" She rolls her eyes at you obviously avoiding her question. "Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't, just trying to figure out if I should be worried about you getting a crush on me and going all crazy."

You walk over to her until there's only inches between you. "You're so arrogant." You bump her in the shoulder and she stumbles as you walk past her towards the kitchen. "You're also not my type... at all." You call over her shoulder missing the look of bewilderment on her face.

"Wait... so you are?" Ellie calls as she follows you to the kitchen. She's close behind you as you march away until you stop dead in your tracks causing her to bump into you.

"If you must know Ellie, yes I am."

"Oh." Ellie felt her heart clench a little for you as she knows how unaccepting your parents are, that's why you stopped being friends all those years ago after all.

You had met Ellie on the first day she arrived in Jackson, she looked tired and a little gaunt but you still felt butterflies in your stomach when you laid eyes on her for the first time. You remember seeing her walk in and hand a gun she kept in the back of her jeans to Maria, you were gobsmacked because she looked the same age as you and you couldn't imagine holding, let alone using, a gun. You had been born in Jackson, only ever leaving to go on patrol in the last couple years so 14 year old you found the girl all the more intriguing. You had watched her from a distance as Joel spoke to your dad, you still remember the feeling of your stomach dropping when she looked up to see you spying on her. You hadn't spoken to her until later that evening when Joel and her had come to yours for dinner. It was awkward at first but when she saw your record player and limited vinyl collection, the ice thawed quickly, you became inseparable until your parents started taking an issue with your friendship with her, you never understood why they stopped you seeing her and stopped seeing Joel until two years ago when you told them you were a lesbian. Ellie had always known that they were homophobic but it still hurt when they stopped you seeing her, she saw red any time she was near you because she was so hurt that you could cut her out of your life just like that and within a couple months you were bitter rivals that couldn't share a nice word with the other. Her hatred for you was so overwhelming that it forced her to stop being so awkward around people because she was so focused on throwing as many insults your way as possible that her nerves when speaking to others dissipated.

Now, as you stand in the kitchen staring at her leaning on the doorframe you felt a pang of guilt for how you had treated her although it quickly disappeared the second she opened her beautiful mouth.

"Well er... you're not my type either so don't get any ideas." You laugh at the awkwardness of her statement knowing why she suddenly lost confidence in herself.

"Thanks for the clarification." You roll your eyes before busying yourself getting a glass of water, it was the middle of summer so all the moving and unpacking was making you feel severely dehydrated. Ellie watched as you gulped down the water, noting how a couple drops fall down onto your white tank top. She dragged her eyes away from you and cleared her throat.

"Well now we've established the feelings mutual we can go back to never speaking again. Or are you going to bother me constantly with small talk?"

"Oh believe me you have nothing to worry about on my end." You refill the glass again and walk over to her. "And if I'm remembering correctly you're the one that came and spoke to me, so I could ask you the same thing, no?" You jab a finger into her chest as you speak emphasising your point. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to go wash this finger of your germs and finish unpacking." You push past her once again and she scoffs as you walk away back upstairs without looking back at her.

You continue unpacking methodically until everything is put away neatly and your decorations are in their new designated homes. As you collapse onto the bed picking up the book you were reading at the moment from your bedside table you breathe a sigh of relief at the breeze making its way through your open window. Your shared cabin was right on the outskirts of Jackson so your view was the beautiful woods that lined the north west section of the wall, as you looked at the greenery that was reflecting glittering spots of sunlight you reminisced on the times you and Ellie had spent in the woods when you were friends. You're interrupted from your thoughts by the growling of your stomach that prompts you to sneak back to the kitchen.

"Fuck's sake." You mutter under your breath as you walk into the kitchen only to be greeted by Ellie leaning on the counter savaging a bowl of cereal.

"You know you're spilling more of that down your shirt than you're getting in your mouth right?" Ellie looks down at her t-shirt only to see that you were correct when you said she was spilling milk down herself, she huffs and continues eating, this time being more careful as she brings the bowl right to her mouth.

"I thought I made it clear I didn't want to talk to you and yet... here you are talking to me." She mumbles through a mouthful of cereal. You roll your eyes and open the fridge only to see the leftovers you had put in there earlier were gone. You take a deep breath before spinning to give Ellie the dirtiest of looks.

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's the only food I had until I go out tomorrow. Why would you eat it?"

"Oh was that yours? My bad I got hungry earlier, it was really good though you gotta make me some more of that sometime." She smiles sweetly and your face twists into a scowl as you feel the rage boiling inside of you.

"Only we live here Ellie, if you're going to steal my food you could at least own it." You walk away and just before you leave the kitchen empty handed you turn back slightly. "Pussy." You go to walk away until you feel a hand enclose around your arm yanking you backwards. She pushes you up against the wall and leans her body weight on you so you can't move, relishing in your struggle.

"Say that again bitch, I dare you." Her eyes are dark and cold only mirroring yours, a devilish grin appears on your face as you lean in closer to her.

"You're a pussy Williams... and you don't scare me." You push her off with all your strength and rush away from her before slamming your door so hard you're shocked it doesn't come off the hinges. You pace around your room muttering and cursing Ellie before you stop, realising you actually have to live with her for the foreseeable future, every time you looked at her all you could think of is the screaming matches you endured with your parents when they banned you from seeing her and the look of defeat on her face as you ignored her for the first time when she came over to you while you were out with your parents, the nausea you were feeling only grew as the memory of when you came out to your parents flashes through your mind as it does multiple times throughout the day. You grab your book and begin reading once again trying to rid yourself of all these memories that Ellie was bringing up. As you finally feel the nausea calming there are three forceful knocks on your door that you ignore reflexively.

"You gonna open the door or what?" Ellie's voice is muffled but clear enough to make out what she's saying.

"No. Fuck off Ellie!" Ellie rolls her eyes before knocking harder this time and she doesn't stop, she continuously bangs on your door until you throw your book down in frustration to storm over to the source of your irritation. As you yank the door open you're greeted by a smirking Ellie. "WHAT? What could you possibly want? You eat my food, you piss me off, you pin me against a fucking wall, what do you want now Ellie?"

Ellie is taken aback by your harsh tone, typically it had a hint of playfulness to it but now you just sounded angry. She gulped before regaining her standoffish demeanour. "Calm down sweetie."

You scoff and go to slam the door in her face but her hand stops you and pushes the door back so hard you stumble backwards with it, you huff and walk away dropping down onto your bed once again.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure whatever. You're gonna do what you want anyway." She stuffs her hands into her front pockets and walks in as she looks at all the decorations in your room before plopping down on your bed sitting directly on your feet. You snatch them away with a huff as you grit your teeth and curl up to put as much distance between you two.

"What... do you want Williams?"

"Nothing really. Just wanted to see your room. It's very... you."

"Mm and I'm sure yours looks like a squatters pit." You smile smugly at her as she rolls her eyes, your face drops as she turns and eyes the book on your bedside table with a smirk.

"You read romance?" She stifles a laugh poorly.

"Yes and what? Can you even read?" She chuckles and you mumble under your breath "idiot"

"Wow you really are a virgin aren't you?" You eyes flash up at her as your eyebrows knit together and your face turns to a grimace.

"Why do you assume I'm a virgin because I read romance? Maybe I just enjoy it."

"Ha! Right. I'm assuming you're a virgin because only virgins read romance books." You kick at her and she grabs your sock-covered foot stopping you in your tracks.

"Oh my god Ellie can you go away!"

"No no, not just yet. My curiosity is piqued about this book now." Before you can stop her she's reaching for the book and standing up while flicking through some pages.

"Wait, No Ellie don't." She holds it above your head as you stand, you try and snatch it from her once but it's too far out of your reach, panic takes over as she opens it above her head and begins reading aloud. "Ellie fucking stop!"

"Why? It's just a romance book right? Nothing too... inappropriate." Your cheeks heat and the familiar rage comes back in full force, you look down at her feet and stomp on the left one as hard as you can, she yelps and drops her arms which allows you to grab the book from her grasp and you immediately rush out of your room and into the bathroom, locking the door behind you with a triumphant smile.

"Ow you bitch!" You hear Ellie call after you. As you eye the bathtub you decide now is the perfect time to relax in the tub so you can escape Ellie for awhile and read your book in peace.

You stay in the bath until the sun has completely set and the room is bathed in a silvery glow from the moonlight, you guess you were in there for at least an hour but as you start to shiver from the cooling water you decide to finally leave your refuge. As you climb out of the bath you're horrified when you realise your towel is still in your room.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You had to walk past Ellie's room to get to yours but ultimately you decide you'd have to risk it, you unlock the door and peak out into the hallway to see its empty, you edge the door open and begin quickly creeping to your room, you're almost there but as you go to walk past Ellie's room she walks out at the exact same time walking straight into your naked form.

"AGH OH MY GOD!" Your hands immediately attempt to cover your dignity but its an almost failed attempt as you notice her looking you up and down. "DON'T FUCKING LOOK!" You scream as you run past her to your room so quickly your feet slip a little. You hear her cackling in the hallway as you lean with your back against the door in utter disbelief. "No no noooo that did not just happen." You mumble to yourself as you run a hand over your face.

You try to put the embarrassment past you as you settle into bed before passing out from the sheer exhaustion of the day.

#ellie x reader #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie

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baka-bakeneko · 10 months

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Into It - Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader

tags: NSFW, workplace, Mr. Nanami has an obsession, overthinking, progressively dirtier thoughts, stalker behavior, seat licking, mention of footplay [i know, i'm sorry], masturbation in workplace, territory-marking, [i mean some seriously off-handle shit happens and i feel like tagging them would spoil the surprise], y/n is used, panty stuffing, foreplay, semi-public sex, slow burn sex, creampie, snowballing, not really proofread just shared with fellow degenerates word count: 6.52 k synopsis: Nanami Kento loves seeing you at the workplace. [headcanon idea provided by bllue_soul on twitter, their art is amazing, their obsession with Nanami is immaculate] a/n: i want this man (SPICY) to spit in my mouth after he eats taco bell. I'd let him use my asshole as an ashtray. thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

Nanami loved when you wore blue in the office. He'd never say it, but Nanami made sure to get up for a cup of coffee when you'd show up in the morning.

Five minutes late as usual, even on days you were scheduled later. Nanami couldn't explain why it was that exact time, every time, but you always walked through the elevator doors with your coffee cup in hand, looking for your ID in your purse.

Knee-length pencil skirt, black. Teal blue silk button-up. Heels. The strappy kind that went around your ankle and sleek. The bottoms were scuffed because of daily use, except for Fridays when you wore your black sneakers.

He refilled his cup, catching glances of you through the glass of the breakroom. You were running late, yes, but today was different. You reached to strap up your heel, wearing an entirely new skirt half shorter than the regular.

With a lift of your knee to a lobby table, you fixed your shoe and inadvertently flashed your lacy blue panties. Nanami stepped closer to the counter, acknowledging the sudden throb of his cock at the sight. He narrowed his eyes, catching onto more of the previously hidden skin of your inner thighs.

He'd peeked before, passing by you in the downstairs cafe but was caught by the slip you wore underneath. But now you were as careless as possible, as if you'd wanted Nanami to notice all of you.

He would've popped a blood vessel if he didn't keep his composure; a slick icy dew settled down his spine as he pulled his coffee cup to his lips and disguised his gulp. Nanami slowly tore his eyes away from your elongated legs as you stood upright, as you adjusted your skirt just past your thighs.

He stole another glance as you walked in, admiring the tilt of your hips when you walked and how this new skirt of yours aided the visual.

Nanami cleared his throat when another coworker entered and discreetly adjusted himself in his slacks before taking an actual swig of his coffee. He excused himself to his desk and sat down precisely, making sure his chair was two inches in the way of the walkway.

You exchanged your greetings to your coworkers as you breezed by them, taking long pulls of your coffee while you made it to your desk aisle.

Upon your turn, you noticed Kento sat upright in his chair almost purposefully in the walkway.

"Good morning, Nanami," you offered with a small smile pursed on your lips.

Your free hand went to his shoulder and carefully cupped it, willing yourself to not squeeze and admire the amount of muscle he hid under his suit.

You cleared your throat as you sidled around his chair, your thigh brushing his knee while your hand pushed him in rotation to watch you walk by.

Nanami's eyes were trained on your hand for the moment you touched him, then stole a peek at your ass as you breezed by him. This coy display of yours made his heart race in his ears.

"Y/N, you're late," he chastised softly, rotating the full 180 with his eyes glued on yours all the way to your seat.

"I know," you pouted, sitting down carefully at your chair. You pressed your knees together and tucked your legs just under the seat. "The line at the coffee shop was so long, even when I got there early."

Nanami tightened his jaw, straightened his tie and put on his best composure; you smiled at his efforts, how he slicked at his hair and flattened his tie to his chest.

"I even got you something," you cut in, stalling his scolding you. You dug into your purse and retrieved a singular wrapped cake pop, coated with light blue sprinkles over the beige icing. "Reminded me of you."

Nanami's eyes remained blank though the underside of his right one twitched; you held the treat out to him and he took it with a low tone of thanks.

"That's not all," you offered, going through your bag again to retrieve a bottle of iced coffee. "I know you like hot coffee, but I brought you a cold brew. More caffeine."

Nanami stiffened further, watching as you set the glass bottle on your shared desk then pushed it with the tips of your fingers over to him. Your effort was cute, pushing past the small conjoining crack as you remained fully in your seat.

He could see down your blouse then, past the teal blue silk and in to see another catch of lace. Nanami gulped, his free hand clutching the top of the cold brew bottle and slamming his eyes shut.

"Thank you, Y/N."

You sat upright with a snap, folding your hands to your lap with a cheeky smile. "No problem, Nanamin."

His cock was seething now, so hot and throbbing for you without you even noticing his slow descent.

You forced your knees tighter together, hoping to hide the sudden wet you had for Nanami as you did everyday sitting in front of him. So badly you wanted to be his office pet, for him to keep his attention focused on you rather than work.

With a curt nod in your direction, he slid into his corner office desk and logged onto his computer. You watched the man square his shoulders, finishing off his cup of coffee before you turned around in your chair.

Nanami peeked from the corner of his eye to you, wheeling yourself tight into your cubicle and reaching for the straps of your heels. Like clockwork, they helped you walk in but the constant sprint to the train, even when you're running early, warred on your arches.

He carefully mapped the flex of your calves as you kicked your heels off and rested your bare feet on the low-pile carpet.

Nanami thought of you, one day, resting your tired feet on his lap. How you'd press your aching arches into his thigh while silently willing him to ease the stress in them. He'd happily do so, for you, if you asked nicely.

By break-time, the swell of Nanami's cock subsided to replace his actual work. While you were in the forefront of his mind, you were subdued when his eyes weren't on you. He focused on numbers that repeated in sequence until you logged off of your computer and put your shoes on.

"I'm going to lunch with some of the girls," you offered, sidling around to face Nanami's back. "Would you like to come?"

Nanami paused in typing, the thought striking through his core. Very badly, he thought, all over your tits and tongue. He raised his brows, turning his chin over his shoulder slightly to you.

"No, thank you."

You hummed, pushing to your feet with your hand resting on Nanami's desk. "Would you like me to get you something?"

You reached a curious hand out, wanting to brush through the back of Kento's short blond hair. Your hand stagnated in the air before you balled your fist and dropped it to your waist.

He tilted his chin in your direction, catching your eyes. Nanami's jaw tightened, staring at your soft gaze back at him. The harsh lights of the office did absolutely nothing well for your features, but lightning nonetheless was beautiful haloed around you.

Nanami shook his head in response, pushing away from his desk with a log off. You leaned further into Nanami's view, taking up more of his scenery.

"Would you like to get drinks with us tonight?" You asked, tilting a hip against the desk.

Nanami kept his eyes locked with yours, his lax eyes watching as your ass shelved onto the desk and rode your already short-skirt further up.

"Us?" He repeated, turning sideways to hid his once again growing bulge.

You smiled, scoffed in amusement as your hand reached out to push Nanami to face you. "The girls from work. I'm sure they won't mind you tagging along."

Nanami stuffed his hands into his pockets instantly, doing his best to hide the stiffening tent in his slacks. The precarious position he was in before you was nothing he hadn't imagined before.

You leaned against the desk before him, his chair placed directly before you. "I-I don't think I should."

"Oh, come on," you pleaded softly, lowering your voice as your coworkers began to file out to grab lunch. "I'll buy you a drink."

The ache slowly roared up Nanami's stomach, taking all of you in.

"I'll think about it," he said, sitting back in his chair. "Now, go on, before you miss lunch with your friends."

You smiled and pushed off of the desk, straightening out your skirt before walking away. "You want me to bring you something back?"

Nanami followed your movements around to the front of his cubicle; he grinned suddenly and shook his head.

"No, go." He raised a hand to wave you off. "Go, before you're late coming back."

You scrunched your nose at him then pat your hand on top of his cubicle before walking off. The way his dull stare looked into you, locked into you while he kept his attention directed at you made you feel warmer inside.

You wrung the handle of your purse on your shoulder as you walked out of the office, looking back a final time to see Nanami standing up to refresh his cup of coffee.

Nanami was careful moving while still in your line of sight. He ignored your gaze and went to the breakroom to clean his coffee cup. More of his coworkers filed out of the office, leaving him alone for the hour lunch they had.

Upon seeing you leave, Nanami took the opportunity to return back to his desk. With the lights automatically shutting off, Nanami rested his head in the exact space where you sat on the desk.

He breathed softly at the remnant of warmth you left, turning his face to press his nose right where he imagined your panties touched the surface. All of it, so warm. Nanami pressed his tongue to the surface, knowing that he wouldn't find anything of note in your wake but imagined the heavy damp of your pussy.

Nanami huffed against the desk, resting his forehead to it as he fumbled with his belt buckle. The thought of eating you out on the very desk after hours drove the heat right back to his throbbing cock.

He took grip of his cock and stroked once, stopping his breath on the thought of you sat where his head was now. Like a dog, he lapped at the desk top while he squeezed tight at his cock and stroked long and slow.

Nanami sniffed up all of your scent, licked up all that he could before he felt your essence was dissipated from the top. He'd normally hold off on such outward displays in regards to you, but today felt like more.

He moved away from the desk in a pant, dropping to his knees and trudging to your chair. Imagining the day he'd lay his head on your lap, let your tired feet fumble over his raw cock, Nanami stroked and inhaled deeply at your chair.

Kento breathed deeply at your seat, dragging his tongue over the aerated mesh of your chair. He imagined your skirt ridden up further while you sat, your lacy blue panties rubbing against the mesh.

Kento opened his eyes to look at your seat, the thin string of your panties woven into the mesh. His brow quirked and gnawed at the spot to free the string.

He thought of your panties catching, your pussy touching the mesh and riling yourself up while at work. Naughty girl, he thought, squeezing his cock harder as he finally came.

With a kneel, Nanami reached out for your to-go coffee cup and brought it to his dripping cock. He leaked all of his cum from his tip and into the empty cup, staring down at its ooze mixing with the legs of the coffee remnant at the bottom.

He caught his breath, bent over your chair, letting his cock twitch freely into the cup until he was empty. Kento sat back on his haunches, righted his pants and belt buckle before standing up and grabbing the cup in disgust.

Carefully, he walked it to the men's restroom and discarded it in the bin, stuffing it far to the bottom and balling paper towels on top.

Nanami stood before the mirror, washing his hands while staring at the sudden blush in his demeanor. He wished to understand the allure about you over him in such a place. Even when he thought about work, you were right over his shoulder.

Like a tempting little devil in your lacy undies, crossing and uncrossing your legs in your strappy heels. Nanami knew it was wrong to want to be between them so bad while on the clock, but the stress only built with every passing by.

He leaned against the white tile of the bathroom and took a deep breath, knowing he could get through another day like he did every other one before it.

But tonight you asked him out for drinks. And he was going to go.

Closing down his office desk around the same time as you, Nanami stood up and righted his suit jacket in the walkway. You managed to step back into your heels a final time, strap them up and put your phone in your bag as you logged out of your computer.

"Y/N," Kento began as you took of your ID and put it into your bag.

You hummed, giving the blond man your undivided attention. He stood stiffly before you, hair and suit kempt to the nines just as you expected from him every day.

He glanced at his watch on his wrist, reached with his free hand undo his tie at the second the hands hit 5:30. "Let's get those drinks."

By his utterance, you brightened. He saw it and that look alone sent another lash of heat through his stomach. The way your eyes lit up and how your lips curled revealing your teeth in a genuine smile.

"Let's go," you pushed, moving to wrap your arm through his and walk with him to the elevator.

You rested your chin to his shoulder, peering up at him with your still egregious smile; Nanami's heart raced with how close you were to him at this moment.

He kept his pace with you, not overexerting your tired stride in your strappy heels. Nanami kept his arm bent with yours, his muscle flexing under your fingers.

"Do you workout?" You asked innocently enough, squeezing tenderly at his bicep. You felt his body tense under your touch, his muscle tightening in your grip.

You hid a roll of your eyes at that, your mind wondering to the thought of what Nanami looked with his shirt off. Your imagination on him kept you focused hard at work everyday, as if he would be able to read it on your face.

Kento's body was rigid by your touch, your question. He glanced down at you, offered a half-watt smirk.

"Not a day in my life." He added, pushing the button for the elevator and stepping inside with you.

When he thought it'd be just the two of you, your coworker friends suddenly flooded into the elevator. The bubble surrounding the two of you was now popped, all the noise of the multiple women nothing more than grating.

Still, you held onto his arm, pulled him a bit closer as you looked up at him expectantly. His heart fluttered as his cock twitched, both parts of him expecting two different things at once.

You managed to get the bartender's attention while Nanami sat at the table off from your coworkers. He'd loosened his tie and folded it carefully to tuck into his suit pocket.

You were leaning egregiously over the bar, waiting as the bartender fixed your drinks, no longer paying attention to how your new skirt was riding up.

Nanami wanted to sit back and admire the view, but glanced around to the other patrons. His eyes caught onto a few gentlemen's gazes, how they lined up on the curve of your ass.

He was up and behind you swiftly, his hands respectfully holding the sides of your skirt and pulling it down over your thighs.

You sat up with a grin, into Nanami, leaning your head against his shoulder. "What, don't like a show?"

Kento reddened, glancing around the bar at the other men now fixated on your proximity. He straightened his hands along your hips then backed away. I don't want to share you with other men.

You maneuvered in his hold and turned around, touching at his naked collared shirt. Nanami's hands followed up to clasp over yours. He shook his head.

"I...don't want you to be exposed." He managed to say, chastising himself internally for chastising you like this.

You slipped a hand up his neck, emboldened by his touch. "You like what you saw..."

Nanami hid a roll of his eyes, holding himself up from leaning into your hold. "Maybe a little, but this isn't the place for that."

You narrowed your eyes at Nanami, searching his calculated stare back at you. "You wanna dance?"

His brow furrowed quizzically, allowed you to push past him and ditch the drinks. You grabbed onto his wrist and led him out onto the dimly lit dance floor, the lights pointed up towards the ceiling cycling through the rainbow.

"Y/N, I don't dance," Nanami said flatly, dragging his feet after you.

"Then stand there," you responded, dropping his hand to your hip after you faced away from him. "I like a man that knows what he wants."

Nanami gulped as he felt you press against him; your skirt hiked up an inch as you slid down the length of his legs and pulled yourself back up.

Internally, he bit at his knuckles, fighting every urge to lose himself before you. Nanami reached out for your hands, holding you upright before him.

"Don't...do that," Nanami scolded, hissing into your ear.

You felt a chill roll down your spine, feeling Kento's breath husk against your skin. You forced your knees together, feeling the warmth pool further down to your pussy.

You teasingly tilted your ear in the direction of the blond's mouth. "What do you want me to do, Kento?"

An errant grimace scoured his mouth, the sound that followed it along with the grip of his hands made your breath pick up.

You felt the bulge of his cock against your ass, how it throbbed against you.

Nanami couldn't help it then, smelling your shampoo and feeling you so closely. His mouth jerked to answer but he was silenced as you swayed your hips to the switch of music.

His slammed his eyes shut, leaning against your temple as his thumbs ran along your palms. "Y/N, please."

"I can stop," you whispered, tilting your head further to look behind at Kento. "Just tell me too."

Nanami panted softly against you, ready to press you hard against him and cum in his pants. He wanted to call you out right there, tell you this was inappropriate and that your friends were watching.

"I-I can't," he whimpered into your ear, a groan so sweet all over your body.

You leaned your head back and whispered up to his ear. "I know."

You pulled away from Nanami enough to do a three-step then reeled yourself back into your coworker. "I have something for you."

Nanami relished and dreaded the moment away from you, wanting nothing more than your body melded in his. He groaned into your ear when you returned, a question in his grunt.

You giggled lightly, reaching into your blouse for the strip of lace you'd tucked there upon arriving to the bar. You held the fabric over your middle finger, allowed Nanami's hand to slip it away from you.

Nanami ran his fingers over the fabric, knowing exactly what this was. His cock was indestructible then, hard and folded up against the zipper of his pants. He brought your panties to his nose and inhaled deeply, a low and disgusting sound that resounded beautifully in your ears.

"What do you want to do, Nanamin?" You asked coyly, pressing your ass a bit firmer against his hard bulge.

Kento shut his eyes as he took in a second long inhale of your panties, his other hand holding carefully onto yours.

"Let's find somewhere private," Nanami stressed against your ear.

You grinned softly, turning in the direction of Nanami's low voice. "Lead the way."

Kento waited a long moment, reaching between the two of you to adjust himself. He stuffed your panties into his pocket then pulled away with a low clearing of his throat.

He nodded carefully in the direction of the restroom and you followed his lead down the hallway. Kento looked over at the table with your coworkers, all of them occupied in one another, and grabbed your hand to exit out of the back door.

You slid out of the exit with him, wading in the back brick alley. You watched as Nanami looked down the length of the alley, surveying his surroundings before pushing you up to the nearest wall to the back door.

He used his knees to pry your legs open, watching your skirt wade up further. Nanami stared at your bare thighs, waiting to see the actual flash of your pussy but stopping himself.

He took grip of your jaw, leaning in and ready to kiss you. Nanami's thumb and index finger pressed into your cheeks, opening your mouth enough to stuff your panties in.

Your drool wetted at the lace, instantly tasting your wet from earlier in the day. Nanami smirk at your doe-eyed look, pressing his lips to your nose as his free hand reached down to swiftly put two fingers into your pussy.

You quivered, your eyelids flickering with your body jolting softly. Kento groaned at the feeling of you clenched around him, your soft walls throbbing, almost aching to be around him.

"You're messy, Y/N," Kento spat before your puckered lips, his chest hardened to keep his excitement at bay.

The sight of you, your eyes glistening in the alleyway light while your spit seeped from the corners of your mouth. Your panties stuffed so carelessly into your mouth, the lace falling on your chin.

"You've been wet since work," he stated matter-of-factly, reminiscing on the taste of you he'd licked from your chair.

Your breath caught, half-blinking at Nanami's statement before nodding. You'd smelled the faint musk of Nanami's cologne and thought of what it smelled like when he sweated.

Nanami slipped a third finger in, working you open as you squeezed your eyes shut at the intrusion. He huffed, planting his free hand on the brick wall beside your head and leaning in.

Nanami carefully rested his lips to your temple, massaging you with his three fingers effectively pushing in and out of you. He ignored your throbbing clit, an act that makes you buck at his thumb rested atop your slit.

"Patience," He hissed softly, pressing his hot crotch against your hip. "is a virtue. Learn it."

Nanami retracted a finger and you whined, feeling his digit line between your folds. He leaned in further, curling his fingers to your innermost wall.

"I want you to enjoy this, not find the release." He ordered, slowing his pace. "Do you understand?"

You nodded at him, your hands bracing the wall to not stop him. Opening your eyes, you met Kento's eyes as breathed methodically in and out of his nose.

When he sensed you'd calmed, Nanami resumed. He teasingly pumped his fingers into you, working his knuckles to make sure you'd be open and sopping for him.

He pulled his fingers out, dragging them along your innermost wall and earning a pulse of your pussy. Nanami looked down at his hand to find his shirt sleeve wet, your walls tightening around his digits rhythmically.

"Good girl," Nanami praised in his low-effort tone. He pulled his sleeve up and returned to his stance, pushing his two fingers back in.

Your eyes rolled as a muffled noise escaped through the lace, relaxing your body to let Nanami make work of it. His fingers, long and warm, were gentle against your pliant walls.

He'd imagined this scenario all day, Nanami wasn't ready to squander it for two minutes of flash-pan lust. He wanted to savor everything about you in this instance.

Nanami reached to undo his belt, still pumping his fingers into you. You watched him flip the leather strap from his belt loops with one hand, readily unclasp the metal hinge and pull it off with a single effective tug.

He stared at the belt in his hands, refastened the loop and urged it in the direction of your hands. You silently obliged his request, allowing him to slip the leather strap over your wrists then pull before folding it back between your tightened hands and knotting it with a final loop.

Nanami's effectiveness, while one-handed, was impressive to say the least. And his fingers still working you all the while was nothing short of excruciating.

You tensed at another soft press at your walls, your eyes crossing at the lick of heat blipped through your stomach in a half-life. Nanami shrugged off his suspenders, leaning his shoulder onto the brick before pressing his chest to yours.

He forced you closer to the wall, your legs spreading further to accommodate his large hand, his long fingers. Nanami cautiously unzipped his pants, undoing the button and shoving the waist of his briefs down to unveil his hard, already leaking cock.

"I've waited for this," he whispered, taking his hand back to pull your skirt up to your stomach.

The brick of the building bit into your ass, driving another low noise from you. Nanami's eyes raked down your body, going for the top button of your blouse and popping it free.

He went for the second one, planting his lips in its resting place against your chest, then the third before revealing your matching lacy bra. In his favorite color.

Nanami bit back the urge to pounce on you, continuing his marvel of your body underneath your office attire. He buried his face between your tits and breathes in, perversely lapping his tongue at the jeweled detail placed in the lace against your breastbone.

He selfishly sniffed at your skin there, running his tongue over the curve of your breasts before nudging his nose at the stiffened peaks tucked behind the peek-a-boo lace.

Nanami glanced up at you, saw your eyes now half-mast and descending into hunger. You wanted him so badly inside you, all over you. The thought of him made your skin itch and sizzle with his body being the cool ice to sate it.

He gnawed into the lace over your nipple, suckling and nibbling at the fabric over your tit before tearing it down with his teeth. Nanami kept your eyes as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, massaging at your breast with his wet lips while his tongue lashed over and over at you.

You trembled, choking in breaths through your panties while your pussy fluttered wildly. Nanami didn't relent, moving over to your other breast and doing the same all while tenderly caressing his cock with his free hand.

You couldn't help another buck of your hips, once again feeling the precipice nesting in the small of your back. Nanami bit at your nipple, earning another squirm from you. He widened his teeth and bit around your areola, earning your hips edging from his touch.

"Discipline is necessary towards pleasure, isn't it?" Nanami asked, not expecting a true answer from you. He towered over you, searching your eyes before pulling his fingers out fast.

The speed floored you, dropping your stomach as he brought his fingers up to admire your wet glistening on his fingers. Nanami ran his thumb over his tips, now wrinkled and pale from being inside you.

He took the time to clean his fingers, using his tongue to draw long stripes of your wet from his skin. You marveled at the curve of his tongue, his lips catching your wet and making them shine.

"But I fear I've left you waiting too long," Nanami whispered, taking grip of his cock and sliding his tip along your slit.

The hot press of his head touching your clit sent chills down your spine, the pre-cum from his tip mixed with the wet from your pussy.

Nanami slipped his cock between your thighs, sliding it closely against your wet. You pouted, feeling the twitching heat of him wedged between your legs.

He pressed his thumb to your folds, holding you open until he pushed his cock into you. The sudden flush of heat that came from his tip just inside you made you wiggle, his cock slowly drove into you.

You tried to bow forward, losing the strength in your knees; Nanami held you up, flushing his chest to yours as he bowed his head down.

You looked up at him, allowing Kento to rest his forehead against yours. He winded against your lips, heating up the drool and damp from your lace panties.

His cock pushed through you, filling you. He throbbed inside of you, twitching within your walls. Your skin broke out into a sweat, chewing on your panties in your mouth before pulling them into your mouth.

You begged for Kento's kiss, pouting your bottom lip out against his. You cried into the fabric, brushing your nose against his as he fucked into you slowly, rolling his hips against yours and out.

He grabbed at your thighs, lifting you up against him; your hands scraped against the brick, following the new scratches that dug into your ass.

"How do I feel?" Nanami asked against your mouth, taking each miniscule flicker of your eyes.

You mewed through your panties, your lips ghosting against his. Kento pecked your top lip, then your bottom lip before pulling at your panties with his teeth.

Each thrust felt better than his fingers, his cock bigger and longer than his digits. You rode into his pumps, leaning your head back against the wall; Kento took the opportunity to lick at your neck, slopping up the building sweat on your skin and suctioning at your collarbone and throat.

He felt that he'd be able to consume you, caging over you protectively while taking from you whatever you offered. Kento appreciated the frailty of you, so open with your hands tied behind you and willing with your panties stuffed in your mouth.

Nanami enjoyed deep down how you splayed before him, the filth that exuded you. He kissed up to your ear, then across your jaw before breathing against your lips again.

He paused in his thrusts to feel you speared on his cock, to feel you gushing over his waist and staining his dress pants. This was better than whatever he imagined at work; Nanami's mind couldn't come up with this scenario during his filthiest daydreams.

You whimpered on him, his length sheathing fully inside you; more wet gushed from you, feeling Kento pressed tightly inside you.

Nanami started his thrusts again, pulling you back onto him until your back stiffened and you scratched at the brick behind you.

You fervently dropped your head up and down, stopping and moaning through the fabric as you rested your forehead to Nanami's shoulder.

The orgasm tore through you, heating up the backs of your thighs; the scratches on your ass pricked further, your back scratching with the brick while you yoyo-ed between the rock of Nanami's cock and the hard place of the wall.

Nanami metered his pace, slowing again with each tighter push through your orgasming walls. He stuttered inside you, allowing your euphoria to pull him through his.

He forced your head up and moaned directly in your face, taking his teeth to tear your panties from your mouth and finally kissing you. Kento closed his arms around your head, pressing you tighter up to the wall.

When he came inside you, you jolted again. The speed of him shooting into you, pooling through you and bringing a new film of sweat over you.

Nanami ate at your lips, scoured and licked into your mouth as he relished in the new gush of warmth around him due to his cum. You were now delectable, much like any dessert with buttercream.

He continued until he caught his breath, releasing your legs to let you stand at the same time of pulling out of you. You felt the sluggy trail when Nanami's cock bowed out of you, your knees trembling at the weight after an orgasm.

"Sorry," Kento apologized, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. "I made a mess."

Before you could shake your head at him, tell him it was okay, Kento kneeled before you. With your thighs spread apart, Nanami stared up at you.

He carefully pulled your heel up to rest on his thigh, running his hand up your calf and further to the back of your knee. Nanami cooed at your skin, resting his cheek to your knee.

"Nanamin?" You questioned.

Nanami ignored your tone, looking up at you again as he shifted closer to you. He lolled his tongue out from his lips, timidly slipping his to the top of your slit.

You jerked away from his tongue. "Kento."

Nanami looked up at you, expectant and patient. "Y/N, let me clean you up."

You wiggled at his words, backing your hips into the brick wall again. "Y-you don't have to."

"I want to," Nanami stated plainly.

He moved closer to you again, licking at the top of your slit then down to your clit; his light pressure caused a ticklish feeling between your shoulders. Nanami kept your eyes as he dropped his tongue to line between your folds, lapping up his housed cum in you.

He carefully licked, prodding his tongue into you to suck more of his cum out. You folded your knuckles to your mouth, trying to keep your breath steady and not enjoy his intimate act more than that.

Nanami pulled back when he felt he'd gotten it all. He carefully stood up again, righting his still-hard cock into his pants then doing the same for your skirt.

He rested his hands at your waist, leaning in to kiss you. You shut your eyes softly, opened your mouth to receive his tongue and felt his spit dribble into you.

Nanami carefully shared his cum into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself and him; the umami of your sex something to be savored.

You swallowed nervously, realizing what he was doing. You lolled your tongue back at Kento's, swirling your sex between your mouths before he parted to gulp down his half.

"Your taste is immaculate," he whispered before your lips, buttoning your shirt back up and tucking your breasts back into your bra.

"I should go," Kento said, undoing your wrists from your belt.

You rubbed at your wrists carefully as Nanami bent to pick up your panties from the dirty alleyway. He tucked them into his pocket, lined his belt back through its loops.

"Be careful getting home tonight," he warned sweetly, resting his hand to your jaw to pet at it. "Call me if you need me."

You bowed into this man, watching as he slicked his perfect hair back into its set style. Nanami searched your once again doe-eyes, swooning inside by the whole swap from sex kitten to touch-starved in the blink of an eye.

"Okay," you offered, taking grip of his wrist to kiss the meat of his palm.

Nanami pulled back from you, grabbed the door to the bar and held it open for you to walk back in. He followed behind you back to the main area and grabbed his suit jacket along with his keys.

He politely excused himself to your work friends, glancing to see you duck into the bathroom. Walking out of the bar, he narrowed his eyes at the strange men that ogled you earlier and made memory of their faces.

Walking into his apartment, Nanami pointedly kicked his shoes off at the front door and straightened them against the wall. He hung his tie on the back of the door along with his suit jacket.

Kento moved around his apartment in the motions: putting soiled clothes into the hamper, dirty dishes in the dishwasher and straightening up his king-size bed.

He showered, changed into his jinbei and slipped into his slippers. Kento brushed his teeth, made himself a cup of tea, and grabbed the book he'd been working on for the past week.

Shuffling to bed, he turned on his nightlight and climbed in. Folding the comforter over his waist, Nanami flipped open his book to the last page he left off.

He scanned over the words, still going back to the day he'd had. Nanami couldn't lie that his cock was sore from being rubbed raw.

He blinked slowly, pinching at the bridge of his nose with a groan.

From his place in bed, he heard the front door handle jiggle. Nanami sat up, ready to get out of bed as it opened softly then shut again.

He raised a brow and folded his book to his lap to see you, leaning against the doorway.

You held your heels in your hand, having had three extra drinks after Nanami left.

"Hey baby," you grinned drunkenly, dropping your heels to the floor and shuffling to the bed. You folded your body over the plush bed, the pillow-soft comforter cool against your cheek.

"Hi honey," Nanami smiled, folding his book closed. "How was work?"

You hummed, pulling yourself onto all fours and crawling over to your husband. "It was so good, you were so good."

He spared a dry chuckle at you, watching as you curled sideways in the bed, resting your head in his lap. "You were too. Do you want me to run you a bath?"

You shook your head, shutting your eyes. Nanami grabbed at his teacup, holding it out for you to take.

"Take a sip, sweetheart," Nanami urged softly, bending his knee to sit you up on his thigh.

You did so, hiding a roll of your eyes. You set the cup out for Nanami to take back, which he did as he leaned down to peck your lips.

"Did you get cuts from that wall?" he asked, ready to take care of you as you curled further into his lap.

Your eyes fluttered, shaking your head as you tucked closer to Nanami's stomach. "Hold me."

"Anything for you, my love."

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deepouterspacecandy · 19 days

Text

Weathering the Storm

Okay, so the requests for angst or a fight with Abby have been rather prevalent. I hear you loud and clear. I truly enjoy writing pieces for all of you. But also, I don’t view Abby as the girl who is going to fight with you or land herself in a toxic relationship, so that’s not what this is. If anything, I think Abby is the girl who shows you what genuine, safe love is. It’s normal to tackle big emotions when you’re integrating someone into your life, but I don’t want to perpetrate unhealthy dynamics for my fellow lesbians. You're worthy of a love that doesn’t leave you feeling lost and lonely, and it’s out there. I swear.

Alas, here’s my interpretation of your first big spat with Abigail Anderson in a post-apocalyptic world. 18+ only, light angst, sexual themes.

Your first official fight with Abby feels awful, like a steely punch to the gut. You’ve squabbled and debated over trivial things in the past, but this conflict feels more substantial. It’s beginning to fester into a nauseating and distressing ache in your stomach that serves as a meager reward for feeling frustrated and guilty.

But here’s the thing—surely, it’s only natural to feel upset with her given what you’ve been told. So why then, does it feel like a dark, looming cloud hanging overhead? Maybe the ultimate challenge is in navigating the delicate equilibrium between your triggers and your trust in her.

As you process your emotions, you find temporary relief by immersing yourself in work, fully aware that she is employing the same coping mechanism somewhere beyond the walls of the stadium.

It would be reassuring if she were on the FOB, ensuring her safety and giving you peace of mind, but truthfully, Abby is a highly sensitive girl who becomes immensely distraught whenever she senses instability in her surroundings. Drawing on her inherent instincts, she leans heavily into the role of being useful, which eases the threat of her life coming undone.

You are gentle with that aspect of her because you understand her struggle to be vulnerable.

It feels dreadful to be avoiding her like this, and it’s impossible to shake off the discomfort. But the scale of what transpired feels too enormous to dismiss, and you are at a loss on how to bring your emotions to the surface without everything collapsing.

With the blanket she knitted for you wrapped tightly around your shoulders, you reread the same page of your book a dozen times. You feel a strong desire to numb the sharp shards of glass piercing your stomach, the very place where warm flutters usually stir. The ache of Abby’s absence eclipses the original cause of your sorrow, leaving you feeling empty and lost.

When a knock at the door shatters your brooding thoughts, you toss your book onto the coffee table. The idea of dragging yourself off the couch to answer it feels overwhelming, your energy drained.

With a sudden click, the lock turns and Abby steps into your apartment. Her shoulders slump, as if weighed down by the assumption of your hesitancy to welcome her. After shutting the door, she leans on it, fidgeting with her keyring.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” she asks.

Nodding at her, you sit up on the couch, curling your arms around your knees.

With a clink, Abby drops the small lanyard into a trinket dish on the kitchen counter. After six months of subtle hints and coy smiles, it took a mere two weeks of dating for her to swipe the key to your place, and you were more than happy to surrender it to her.

“How’d everything go on your run?” you ask.

A half shrug lifts her broad shoulders, while her eyes deliberately evade yours, exposing her discomfort.

“You remember that old mall?” she asks. Engrossed in her thoughts, she chews on her lower lip. “We finally cleared it today.”

“That’s good,” you say. “Stalkers have been running the place for years. It’s about time new management stepped in.”

Abby puffs a soft laugh, her bittersweet chuckle implying she doesn’t feel deserving of finding your jokes humorous. Her face carries such a profound sadness that it pulls the strings of your heart tight, urging you to rewind time.

“I found something for you, but I left it at my place,” she explains. “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to grease your palm or anything.”

“Well, I’m not above bribes,” you tease, hoping to smooth the furrowed lines on her forehead. “I’ve always been a fan of your gifts.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Abby asks, choked with emotion.

Her question is a thunderous brick to your chest, stripping you of breath. It wasn’t a notion that had crossed your mind, but as the hours dragged on, you were anxious about her perceiving it as a thought you were mulling over.

“Is that what you want?”

“Can I be honest?” Abby sniffs.

She’s hugging herself so tightly that you’re concerned about her blood flow. Fear grips your heart, leaving your mouth parched as you struggle to swallow.

“Of course. You can tell me anything.”

You pat the spot next to you on the couch, and Abby eagerly shuffles closer, her footsteps soft against the carpet. The rug, carefully wrapped in a protective sleeve when you found it, was a surprising discovery on your most recent run together.

The way she unraveled you on it, after it arrived at your door, is a memory that will always stay with you.

When Abby takes a seat beside you, the weight of her body sinks into the cushion and creates a magnetic pull that draws you closer. Her initial apprehension fades as she gently touches your socked toes, her hands instinctively wrapping around them to provide warmth.

“Out of everyone in this fucked up world, you’re the one I can’t bear to lose,” she says. “But I know sometimes I’ll mess up and it sucks because I’m crazy about you.”

“I’m crazy about you, too,” you say.

“I can’t stand letting you down.”

“Yeah—I hear you there. I feel the same.”

Her hair falls across her face, and you reach out to tuck it behind her ear. She leans into your hand, savouring the gentle gesture.

“I’m sorry for making you doubt me like this. I promise there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about.”

“It’s just that everyone’s talking, you know? It’s a lot of gossip, but it still hurts.”

Reflecting on the day that woman arrived, you can’t help but recall her doe eyes raking over Abby, as if she hung the moon and all its stars.

Which she absolutely does—but only for you.

You two have been through this before, watching as crushes come and go.

Each week, the stadium welcomes a constant influx of new civilians and soldiers, captivating affection-starved humans with the beauty inside. Once people realize that the two of you are already in a committed relationship, they tend to respect the boundaries.

This woman gets under your skin in a way no one else ever has.

“It should’ve come from me,” Abby says. “I feel so bad you found out the way you did. Can I tell you what really happened?”

The pad of her thumb finds your ankle, tracing circles around the delicate bone.

“I want you to hear it from me this time,” she continues.

“Alright,” you say. “Shoot.”

She recounts the party at Manny’s last weekend.

It was the only event that you two hadn’t attended together since you officially became a couple. At first, you didn’t have any concerns because Abby has consistently been dependable in her communication with you.

Manny wanted to throw a wild bash to help everyone blow off steam after a nerve-wracking mission, and you wanted her to enjoy the breather. If you hadn’t been so exhausted the week leading up to it, the bass-heavy music and infectious laughter of your friends would’ve invigorated you—Abby playfully bouncing you on her knee to the rhythmic beat the way she always does.

Instead, it was someone else vying for the empty spot on Abby’s lap.

“She got pretty wasted, like—all over the place drunk. Near the end, she was hitting on everything that moved, basically.”

“Okay. And that included you at some point?”

“It took me a minute to notice, but yes. She tried to make a move.”

A hot, prickling sensation coils like a bitter serpent in the pit of your stomach, impossible to suppress.

“God, Abby. And you still walked her home after? I can’t understand that.”

Your attempt to keep your emotions in check proves futile as tears sting the rims of your eyes, threatening to spill over. The moment you sniffle against them, her gaze immediately locks onto you.

“Please don’t cry,” Abby whispers. Using the sleeve of her shirt, she dabs away the moisture staining your lashes. “Nothing happened. I swear on your life.”

“Did you think about hooking up with her?”

“Fuck no,” Abby says. “I would never, ever step out on you.”

When she clasps your hand, it’s with a firm grip, as though she’s afraid you might slip through her fingers.

“She was all over Manny, and his new girl was getting really pissed off. Like, she was a total mess, and no one wanted to deal with it. Before shit went down, I got her out of there. But she isn’t my responsibility and I realize that now.”

Mulling over her narrative, you’re convinced beyond any doubt that it’s truthful.

When something needs fixing, everyone instinctively turns to Abby. It has always been that way. She has adopted the duty of looking after her community and providing structure, and you deeply admire that quality in her.

There is a significant amount of pressure that accompanies the responsibility of being a protector. It would be nice if people cut her some slack from time to time.

Perhaps you could be the one to initiate it.

“You’re spoken for, Abby.”

“I know,” she says. “And I don’t take that for granted.”

“Maybe it goes without saying, but I’ll seriously fuck her up if she tries that shit again,” you warn. “I am not kidding, Abigail. Drunk or not, I don’t care.”

Sporting a mischievous grin, Abby bites down on the inside of her cheek. When she lets go of your hand to fidget with her own, you playfully nudge her.

“What?” you ask.

“I don’t hate this side of you.”

“Yeah, well, we better put the cork back on ‘cause things will get pretty real when I’m kicking her slutty ass all over town.”

“Copy that,” Abby smirks. “Putting the cork back on the crazy, pronto.”

She lifts her legs onto the couch to wrap the blanket around both of you. While she’s earnestly trying to convey the depth of her devotion to your relationship, she’s struggling to contain her laughter at your feistiness.

Her knees collide with yours, bringing back memories of the night she invited you over to watch a movie but couldn’t take her eyes off you long enough to pay attention to the screen.

That first kiss had such hunger and heat behind it that the recollection still makes your cheeks flush, her rough, curious hands keeping you breathless for hours.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Spill,” you say.

“You’ll always be my girl,” Abby says, tracing the curve of your spine with her fingertips. “I’ve known it from the start.”

“Well, I think the people may need a reminder,” you murmur.

You feel her velvet breath on the back of your hand as she kisses it. Tenderly, she pulls you onto her lap and nestles her face in your hair.

“Let’s give ‘em one.”

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby #lesbian #tlou part 2 #abby anderson

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harryforvogue · 5 months

Note

omg plssss do jealous yasmine’s harry 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 we do not need smut with that gal don’t even worry

Harry observes as Yasmine converses with a PhD candidate from another department. She can be stubborn, infuriating, and difficult. All things he doesn’t mind, really. They’re alike in that way. But she also has the ability to piss Harry off by doing nothing to him.

Two days ago, Yasmine had told the TA email chain that she would be missing their weekly meeting because another responsibility had come up. And after some digging (prying actually because he texted her relentlessly wanting to know what she was doing that would keep her from coming to the meeting – which he disguised as annoyance because they needed to make an updated schedule for the exam period coming up in 4 weeks – she finally caved, glaring up at him with those dark eyes, spitting, “I’ve another meeting, got it?”)

Which meant that Yasmine did not have another meeting. She had a date.

Harry would also like to set the record straight about two things.

One, he’s not a stalker and there are only a few places that a couple can even go on a date around campus (and he knows Yasmine would stay on campus because she teaches at 8 in the morning tomorrow) and he just happens to be at the same lounge Yasmine is at.

And two, he really really doesn’t care if Yasmine goes on dates with other people. She could go on ten dates a day for all he cares.

The lounge isn’t exactly a bar, but a hybrid between one and a restaurant. If it were up to Harry, he’d never bring a date here. It’s tacky and uncool. If it were his choice, he’d bring a woman to a sensible restaurant – nothing too flashy or distracting, and definitely not cheap. Sue him for knowing how dates work.

But across the floor, he sees Yasmine and whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is laugh quietly amongst themselves. Yasmine is in a pretty outfit with her long hair out of its usual bun. It cascades down her back, pinned out of her face. If it were up to Harry (which, again, he’s well aware that it’s not), he’d take those pins out immediately after showing up to her place. He’s never seen her angrily push her curtain bangs out of her eyes and it would delight him greatly to experience it.

Harry takes an irritated bite of his fries, looking away from them. There’s a game on the TV, some soccer match that Harry focuses on instead. He can’t help his eyes from straying a few times, but for the most part, he’s ignoring their presence.

He’s actually invested in the match when someone walks by ten minutes later. He glances absently, stilling when he sees Yasmine standing next to him, her hands crossed over her torso.

“I thought it was you,” Yasmine says, biting the inside of her cheek. She taps her foot. “Mind if I join for a minute?”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. He glances over to the table the couple was sitting at, finding it empty. “Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he says after a graceful recovery.

Yasmine pulls a seat out and sits down, crossing her legs. “Did we cancel the meeting?”

“No, we just pushed it to tomorrow. Decided on that today when 3 people didn’t show up.”

She hums, reaching for a fry from his basket. “Makes sense.”

As she’s eating his fries, Harry observes her for any signs of discomfort. She looks fine, actually, though the way she’s eating his fries suggests she’s hungry.

Harry flags down a waiter and asks for another basket of fries and spicy dip.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Yasmine says, wiping her mouth gently.

“How was your date?”

So much for not being blunt.

He expects her dark eyes to flash up at him, a growl of “None of your business” but she only looks confused, her eyebrows drawing down. “Date?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. He now feels a little annoyed at her coy behavior. “You were on a date – I saw you.”

Yasmine blinks. “You saw me?”

“Yeah you were right over there. The place isn’t so big is it?”

God, now he’s snapping at her.

She bites the inside of her cheek again. From the proximity, Harry can see she’s swept some shimmer on her eyelids, her mascara bold, and her cheeks a tempting shade of pink. When the fries come, she reaches for one again, biting into it without caring about the temperature. “No, I wasn’t on a date. It was a meeting. Been thinking about my thesis and I needed help from someone who’s already gone through this.”

Harry frowns deeply. “Looked like a date.”

She surprises him again. The corner of her mouth raises into a smirk and she leans across the table. “Spying on me?”

“You wish.” His face feels hot.

“You sound jealous, Harry.”

“Jealous?” He forces a laugh. “What would I have to be jealous about?”

Yasmine shrugs. “You tell me.”

“Nothing. That’s what.”

“Sure.” She smiles at him, her chin against her palm.

Harry knows that if he doesn’t look away from her right now, all hell will break loose. He’ll kiss her and she’ll kill him for it. And he might just be okay with that. Anything from her at this point would suffice..

His jaw clenches. He looks away.

Yasmine taps her foot against the floor again. “I was walking out and saw you so I thought I’d say hi. Get an update on the meeting, but that was a bust. Plus he’s bringing the car around to drive me back and it’s too cold to wait outside.”

So the PhD fucker is still around. Fanfuckingtastic.

“It’s okay to admit you wanted my company.” He takes a sip of his drink. When he’s ready, he turns back to her.

“You wish.”

Harry almost laughs at the reality of it.

Under the bright lights, she looks incredibly beautiful. Her lip gloss has smeared a bit, and that stupid clip in her hair is slowly sliding out. Maybe she didn’t think she was on a date, but the fancy PhD guy probably did. And now he’s bringing the car around like a gentleman. Harry nearly throws up at the thought.

Yasmine pulls out her phone when it rings. He watches as she puts it to her ear. He hates the way his stomach twists when her eyes light up.

“Hi. You’re here? Great, I’ll be right out.”

She hangs up and tucks her phone away again, standing up. “I owe you for the food.”

Harry’s mind turns. The other guy is driving her home, but what if he gets the wrong signals? What if Yasmine lets him kiss her? Brings him into her place. Allows him to–

If Harry had a car, he’d offer to drive her home himself. And he’d say yes if she were to ever invite him in. He’d kiss her like she’s never been kissed, his hands all tangled in her long hair. He’d treat her so well.

When Yasmine looks at him, she pauses, clutching her coat around herself a little tighter. “What?”

He can’t look away. Why can’t he look away?

“Nothing,” he says quietly.

Something passes over her face. But it’s gone just half a second later. “Well. Bye, Harry.”

“Bye.”

She walks away from him and the pit in his stomach returns. He puts his head down on the table. Jealousy is the worst feeling ever.

#harry and yasmine #harry styles #harry styles fic

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sinfullyrosey · 1 year

Text

*slams hands on table in a dramatic fashion*

Tired am I of the fics featuring Reader (and or one of the other characters) being uncomfortable and disgusted by Rook’s creepy quirks, yet still being paired up with him!

Instead, I bring forth to you the concept that Rook’s partner is unbothered by his actions, not because they condone or support his stalker-ish tendencies and constant destroying of other’s boundaries!

But simply because they’re into that shit.

Voyeurism. Photography. Predator/Prey. Hunting/Chasing. Obsessive Devotion/Praise.

All of those are legit kinks some have, and out of everyone in TWST, Rook would benefit the most by finding someone who appreciates and loves those forms of affections. While yes, his actions are not appropriate towards those who clearly want him to back off and feel uneasy towards him. In fact it’s kind of illegal.

But towards a partner with these kinds of kinks?

Rook must be the jackpot they’ve been looking for!

Like, imagine his partner being into photography: While in public, they take regular pictures of whatever, whether it be nature, models, animals, food, etc. But in the privacy of their own bedroom? Suddenly, the photos become much more vulgar, risque and focuses more on intimate moments shared between the two.

I especially like the angle of his partner specifically photographing themselves as their own model, whether in a pinup sort of way or through an artistic lens that utilizes nudity and symbolic narratives. Maybe they do submit these photos to art museums or maybe it’s just something they enjoy doing in the privacy of their home and they just keep the pictures to review after each session.

Or, more salaciously, they only do photography in the bedroom because they enjoy capturing those shared moments with him so that they can easily look back on them and relive the moment again, even if he’s not around.

As for the voyeurism angle, maybe his partner likes it when Rook takes pictures of them or watches them from the shadows because it gives them a special kind of thrill. Maybe they like the attention and knowledge that Rook looks at them as a piece of art to be gazed at and appreciated. While others may find his eccentric and obsessive nature towards beauty to be annoying or too much as it were, they don’t.

In fact, they may even agree with him whole heartily and thrive off of his over-the-top appraisal towards them to be one of the sexiest aspects about him!

This can further go hand-in-hand with an artistic photographer, because maybe they understand Rook’s viewpoint better than anyone else, because they’re the exact same way. And this translates into their photography as they try to set up good lighting and camera angles during their sessions to better capture these images to visualize their personal views.

Not to mention I think Rook would also appreciate finding someone who is similar to him in this regard and is openly receptive to his advances. It’s clear he enjoys the chase (he is a hunter after all), so finding a partner who’s open to participating in predator/prey or hunter/hunted type roleplays is probably a dream come true for him.

Maybe early on in the relationship or heck, even before that, when he’s still courting them, they would “play hard to get.” They were coy with him, keeping him on his toes and keeping him guessing as to whether or not they were just as interested in him as he was with him. One minute they were accepting of his invitation for a nice walk around Pomefiore, only to turn around and reject the bouquet he was attempting to gift them and refusing to even look his way.

Only for him to catch the glint in their eye and the subtle quirk of a smirk on their lips.

This got way longer then I intended and I kind of got off topic, but like these are just my thoughts. I’ve always loved analyzing characters and trying to pinpoint the type of partner would work best for them. And Rook is one of those special cases where fandom writes him off as a creep which isn’t wrong tbf and only seems to be interested in writing him as an unhealthy partner when like, the opposite is so much more interesting. Rook just needs to find someone who’s into the sort of stuff he does and would view it as a fitting love language.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Suggestive #Rook Hunt X Reader #GN!Reader #I was listening to Pretty Women from Sweeney Todd while writing this #so I was mainly imagining Rook's partner as female tho no direct references to a specific gender is ever stated #I both love and hate this blond French bitch

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echofromtheabyss · 4 months

Text

Something that’s coming up for me studying older work and writing retrofuture (because my characters deal with many personal and cultural issues that were current to the discourse of Boomers) is that in older work I watch and read, on the whole (I can’t be specific, this is just a feeling/vague pattern match) women actually used to be thirstier and also more openly romantic.

I honestly don’t think women in Hayes Code work are as coy as 80s women and on are. 40s-60s love stories often don’t have the same stalker vibes as 80s-90s do. You see the chemistry. You don’t see them fuck, sure, but you know they WANT to. You believe she wants him. I have no trouble reading the body language and interest of women in older films.

And as things get more explicit, you see women - with their men - being more openly touchy-feely in their interactions with the male body (running fingers through the chest hair is SUCH a 70s sex trope).

You see men being positioned for female consumption. Women had their favorite heartthrobs and they’re positioned in a more sexualized way than ours were, damn you see so many ripped shirts.

It seems like, in older works, men sell sex, not just women. The big consumer via the images on TV - is a bored housewife.

then some time around the 80s and on, it changes. We start to get into “bunny boiler” imagery and social messaging that women are supposed to be coy. And I suspect that the visibility of easier sex is part of this, women are fighting to not be seen as perpetually sexually available. Part of the fallout of the Sexual Revolution having actually older roots than the women’s rights movement and push toward the ERA.

Now women have to be more reserved while more sexually aggressive men are still a strong norm. The woman has to have plausible deniability about being sexually available, not a slut.

which lends to the stalking-is-love trope

which I don’t see NEARLY as much of in older work

#Originally posted this to wrong account

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fineprintedsunsets · 8 months

Text

𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝚈𝙴

This Is For Haunted Hoedown Day 11! | My Haunted Hoedown Master-List

inspired by your fav psychological thriller (YOU) + "I would burn the world for you”

Synopsis: Cinnamon skin. Pretty brown eyes. My Oh My. She's the apple of my eye.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: stalker!natasha x black!f oc. creepy nat. obsessive behavior. stalker behavior. ownership over human beings? orgasm denial. oral (female receiving) slight praise kink. dirty talk. smut obvi. dual pov. fingering.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Sweet But Psycho - Ava Max

1:35 ───ㅇ─────3:47

“Hey sweetheart, mind if I grab a seat?” A gentle voice pulled me from my laptop, and my eyes immediately fell on its source. A woman, with crimson red hair falling leisurely at her sides, green eyes blinking back at me.

A breath gets caught in my throat as she parts her lips, lifting her structure to display a coy smile. My head feels dizzy, looking into her eyes, it feels somehow as if I’ve known her for a long time.

My words fall out of my mouth, stuttering until I attempt to form a coherent sentence.

“Of course.”

All that for two words. The woman pulls out the chair across from me, and although I try hard not to notice the way her leather jacket hugs her curves, the sunlight shines across her fair skin. The woman places her coffee cup down, tilting her head to the side.

I can see her winged eyeliner and her faint smoky eye, her nude lipstick placed on her placid lips. Her smile causes heat to pour into my body, and the way she parts her lips makes me want to kiss them.

Knock it off, Maya.

She’s a stranger.

An odd feeling surrounds her though. A mysterious mask she must wear, one I’m dying to look under, to explore and remove. She must catch my ogling, as much as I keep peering over my laptop to stare, it’s understandable.

“You come here often?” She asks, her tone a bit teasing. I clear my throat, rubbing a hand over my face to hide the blush forming on my dark cheeks.

She’s talking about Café Flore, the beautiful flower-themed coffee shop in Paris. I do come here often, every Monday to write my novel, eat my regular order, and move on with my afternoon.

I didn’t expect to meet a beautiful woman this Monday though.

“Yeah, I do.”

She smiles, bringing her slender fingers to reach for her coffee cup, and of course, I think she’s reaching for my arm, but mistakenly she doesn't and the disappointment I feel is hard to cower away from.

“What’s your name?” I ask, clearing my throat of bile, the embarrassment washing away with it. Nervousness pokes at my stomach as I wait for her answer. “Natasha.” I cock my head, meeting her eyes again. The name fits her perfectly, her dominant demeanor, her leather outfit.

She looks out of place in Paris, but I can't deny, I’ve always loved out-of-place things. Mis-matched quilts make up most of my apartment, various fabric patches hold my pants together, and mixed oddities in a china cabinet are a sight to behold.

Unlike inanimate objects, I do not desire to put this woman on a shelf, I want to keep her with the quilts on my mattress.

I want to see her in my bed.

I shake my head, clearing the inappropriate thoughts. She’s sitting right across from me, her pink lips wrapping around the coffee cup-

Is she even into women? Women like me?

God, I hope so.

“Why me?” I don’t mean to be so upfront, but my question is calmed by Nat’s cool smile.

Were calling her Nat now, Maya?

Great.

She laughs, surely noticing the red on my cheeks. I’m eternally grateful for her light reaction to such a rude question. I don’t trust people, even pretty girls who sit at my table. You never know, these days.

“A pretty girl, cinnamon skin glowing in this weather, brown eyes filled with creativity, how could I not sit here?”

Eye’s filled with creativity?

Fuck me, please.

Literally.

My mouth is slightly agape, but Nat smiles, closing her palm around the paper cup. “Let's put that mouth to better use, hun. Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

My eyes bulge, my words toppling over as I race to answer her question. I shut my mouth immediately, I don’t want to seem eager, or a weirdo, but I can’t help it.

This only happens in swoon-worthy romances.

Not Maya’s-Coffee-Shop-Outing-Monday’s.

She smiles a hint of red on her cheeks. I’m relieved at the sight, I’m happy, ecstatic really, to see she feels at least a little for me.

Pretty girl. Cinnamon skin.

My thighs clench underneath the table, I so desperately want to hear those words fall from her lips once more.

“Do you like apple croissants?” Nat flags down a waitress before I can even answer, it’s ironic she knows my order, it’s what I get every time I’m here. Maybe she enjoys them just as much as me, it is a best seller.

Melody comes to our table, holding a pen and pad, her forehead slick with sweat. It’s a hot day outside, no hot coffee for me. “Hey, What can I get for you?”

“An apple croissant for Maya, hun.”

How does she know my name?

Nat must see my confusion, because she smiles, waves the waitress off, and points to my laptop. I laugh with her when I realize my name is scrawled at the top, along with my address.

For lost and found purposes of course.

“Do you come here often?” I joke, reciprocating her earlier question, and she blesses me with her smile. Me and Natasha talk until my apple croissant comes to the table, cooled off by the inside air conditioner.

I thank Melody, pull the plate over to me, and bring the dessert to my lips. Nat watches my entire encounter with the desert. I feel self-conscious with her eyes on my lips, watching as I bite into it.

All the feelings wash away as the flavors wash over my tongue, the cinnamon and apple baked dessert, crispy pastry cooled to perfection…

“You're adorable when you're happy.”

I pause, bring the desert away from my mouth, and do something I’ve wanted to do since I saw her.

“My place or yours?”

“Mine.”

🥐

Maya was different from the other ones.

I could feel it as I wrapped my fingers around her shoulders, hearing her breath pitch for me. She was more than a pretty girl.

She was my pretty girl.

I would burn the world for her.

I’d been following her for weeks, as soon as I first saw her at Cafe Flore, her eyes glued to her computer screen. I didn’t know much about her then, I was just a pair of green eyes in the distance.

I wanted to scream at her, tell her to pay attention to her surroundings, weird people could be around waiting to grab her at any chance. It didn’t matter, I’d keep them away from my girl, I would teach her how to wield a knife, how to protect her body and heart.

From everyone but me.

I knew her full name by the first few seconds of setting eyes on her face.

Maya Amani Robinson.

It fit my girl well.

Within days I learned everything I could, she was the apple of my eye, my obsession, she was just simply mine.

It helped in situations like these, her back against my apartment door, breath panting as I kissed down her throat. The noises she emitted told me to keep going as I signaled to her shirt, helping her tug it off.

The second her bare stomach met my vision, I knew I had chosen well. My fingers travel to her brown bralette, almost disappearing in her skin complexion. Her fingers found my shirt, my leather jacket lost somewhere in my apartment hallway.

“Doing great, hun.”

Maya tries to hide it, but I see the way her thighs clench, my fingers travel lower as my lips tantalize everywhere, running lines over her collarbone, biting at her ear lobe, making her buck against my door as I smile at her, my fingers finding their way to her patch pants.

They were gone in seconds, her brown hair messy from the pulling of clothes. The only thing that separated me from my girl’s cunt, was a flimsy g-string. That was gone as quickly as I saw it.

My bed was just inches away from the door, but I needed to have her now, pushed up against my wall, feigning over every touch.

“Nat-” Maya sucked in a breath of air, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She always did it when she was nervous, or stuck on particular wording in her fantasy novel.

“Take what I give you, hun.” I nod, tapping her ankle to grab her attention, not that I ever lost it, she lifts her legs up, aiding me in sliding to g-strap away from her pretty pussy.

She whimpers as her sensitive skin is bare to my apartment’s air temperature. I made sure to let it run when I went to meet her at our spot, she hated warm things on warm days.

We were a lot alike in that way.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” Maya lets out a string of curses, pulling her legs open as I make her watch, my tongue darts out to run over my lips, teasing her with every move.

Finally, I reside on my knees, pull her legs open wider against my door, and bury my face in her cunt. She tastes divine, like a warm cup of cocoa after a snowy day. She’s already so wet, who knew my girl liked being spread open and eaten out?

Oh wait, I did.

My tongue prods at her entrance as her fingers find my hair, tangling in their strands. My breasts swell against my bra, I can feel the way my body reacts to her, and I know Maya notices.

She attempts to close her thighs as my tongue gathers her wetness, but I pry them apart, pulling away from her cunt to whisper, “Take it.”

And then I am a mess. My tongue slides into her as she cries out in pleasure, I can feel both her and I clench, me on air, and her on my tongue. Her hips buck, but I hold her still, forcing her to take me in, never allowing her to adjust.

It’s punishment in some way.

My hand comes up to part her folds, my tongue drilling into her as my thumb finds her puffy clit. She whimpers as I expose it to my eyes, and I him against her, satisfied at the glistening bud.

I knew exactly how to pleasure my girl, a part of me wished I didn’t. After hours of scouring her social media profiles, I learned of a podcast she hosted, mostly talking about her novel (which was going great so far), but there was one episode where she talked about her experience in writing sex scenes.

I hum at the beautiful memory, hearing her voice through my earbuds as I listened to her talk about her sexual experiences, how her previous partners left her dissatisfied, and how it influenced her writing style.

I was upset at my girl too, even though hearing her voice for the first time was delightful, she shouldn’t be sharing what gets her pussy wet on the internet. There are odd people on social media, some who could go stalking around, and use it against her.

I couldn’t have that, I needed to teach Maya a lesson. My thumbs push at her clit, rubbing circles as crude noises emit from my apartment floor. Maya’s close, I can feel her clenching around my tongue, begging for beautiful release.

And I was going to give it to her.

Just not yet.

“Nat!” Maya begs, bucking her hips in sync with my tongue. I didn’t want to rip it away from her, but my girl must learn. I see the orgasm tense as her eyes close, her face scrunched in a wince, I press against her clit once more before I pull away, watching her body follow my tongue.

I push her against the door, her hips meeting metal. Maya cries from the pain, as she squirms.

“The more you move, sweet girl. The less of me you get.”

She stopped her hips, allowing me to mold my palms to her curves as I get off my knees, and pulled her flaccid jaw to my lips, forcing her to taste her arousal.

Maya kisses me back, but my lips crush her own, my other hand, the one that’s not fondling with the point peak of her breast, snakes down between us, my breast against her own peaks makes it hard for my own desire to be hidden.

My girl will not taste me tonight, but when she does, she’ll know,

She is all mine.

And I am her's

My fingers find her wet cunt, as they slide at her entrance, forcing her to open for me again. My lips conceal her moans as she bucks her hips, taking my fingers with ease. I watch and hear them slide into her, my eyes wide open as we kiss.

I pull away, as much as it hurts. Maya likes my words, in time, she will love them but knows she needs them to get her over the edge.

“You getting close, Maya?”

“Yes, Nat- Please.” She sounds almost breathless, the red on her cheeks more visible than it was in the Cafe.

“You can do it, come on.” My pace speeds up, sliding in and out of her wet cunt, she meets every pull with a buck of her hips, and when her breath hitches, I know my girl is right there.

“Cum over my fingers, hun. Show me how much you want me-”

With that, My girl makes a beautiful mess.

🥐

I wake up to Natasha's intense green gaze, and I swear, every time I see them, I fall in love with her a little more. She cocks her signature coy smile, and when I see it, I can only think about her lips between my thighs last night, ordering me to come.

She tucks a stray hair behind my ear, her fingers running smoothly over my jaw.

“Good morning, you"

#masterlist #fanfic #oneshot #marvel #smut #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha smut #inklore #hauntedhoedown #hauntedhoedownmasterlist #hauntedhoedownday11

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song-witch · 11 months

Text

Make You Feel

Pairing: Taylor Sloane (Ingrid Goes West) x Jess Thayer (Rough Night)

Word Count: 3,126

Warnings: Age Gaps (Jess is 34, Taylor is 25), Pre-Smut, Slight Choking, Spanking, Daddy Kink, Possessiveness, hints of Jealousy, Angst | 18+, Minors DNI

Summary: With a private charity event set to help Jess in the upcoming election, Taylor decides there's not enough fun at the party. It's no more than a publicity stunt, after all.

A/N: This was written for and inspired by @cthulhus-curse! This is our little rarepair and I love them dearly.

Jess sighed upon taking another sip from her martini. She had been listening to this man blabber on for upwards of an hour, yet he hadn’t said a single thing to spark her interest. Had this appearance not been so crucial to her reelection, she thinks she might’ve left hours ago. She probably wouldn’t have shown up in the first place if she were entirely honest.

It was something she hated about being in the public eye. She had to be so conscientious of what she said and did, and even then, it would still be picked apart by people who hated her. Years of self-criticism led to her hard exterior, it was critical as a politician. That didn’t mean she liked it, though.

So she continued to attend these… publicity stunts, for lack of a better term. It was part of the job and for the pretty penny she was paid, she would continue to deal with arrogant, old white men. Even if she was fairly certain she would get wrinkles at the ripe age of 34.

Forcing her mind back to the conversation, Jess swallowed harshly, nodding her head. “I hate to cut this sort, gentlemen, but I do have others to attend to.” The short-haired blonde gave a very fake laugh to accompany her words, as if it would lessen the blow of her leaving. The woman smiled as she stood, allowing their words to filter in and out of her head once again, pushing her way out of the circle she was in.

Filtering through the people who lingered about was easy enough, stepping out into the small, thankfully empty, balcony. Jess set her glass down on the railing, inhaling the sweet crispness of the fall air, her eyes watching the still-setting sun. Despite the fact that it was nearing 8 pm, the sky was painted something akin to a Bob Ross painting, with deep oranges and pinks.

She was thankful for the cool breeze and her cropped hair, meaning all of the wind hit her, rather than her hair. Jess paid no attention to the clicking of heels, knowing there were only a handful of people brave enough to follow her outside. “Fancy seeing you here, miss senator.” And yet, of the ones she expected, the soft Californian Valley Girl of her girlfriend was the least expected.

“Seeing as how we were both invited, fancy is not the word I would use to describe you following me.” Without looking back, Jess brought her glass to her lips, sipping the vodka-based drink. The chill of the air was more present than the one of her lemon drop martini, though she was hardly complaining as she finished it off. “Stalker is more your style.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my senator girlfriend is okay.” The blonde scoffed, moving to stand next to the older woman. She shivered in her short black number, jacket long forgotten in some coat closet, Malibu Sunset clenched tightly in her hand. Rather than wrap her arms around the taller one as she would in the privacy of their home, she instead sidled up next to her, their arms just barely touching as she set her glass next to the other’s.

Jessica only scoffed, shaking her head. “Stalker.” She whispered with a coy smirk, dropping her elbows to lean against the railing, finally looking at the younger woman. Heels that she insisted on wearing, even though Jess had said otherwise multiple times. It had led to the younger nearly being bent over her knee, only being saved by a call from her Uber driver of all people. She would be the first to say they accentuated her legs, though.

Sweeping up her legs that seemed to go on for much longer than miles, she resisted the urge to reach out and tug her dress down, the material barely reaching midthigh. The material wasn’t an issue. She rather liked seeing the girl in short, silk dresses. The issue was not only how short it was, but how she seemed to parade around, knowing her tits and ass were out. Jess had found it funny at first, given the fact that they were attending a “high-end charity, cocktail event,” whatever that was supposed to mean. As the night progressed, though, the cockiness of the younger woman had only fueled the rage she spent hours mustering away.

“You love it.” Taylor Sloane’s teasing pulled her out of her self-induced reverie, a shit-eating smirk accompanying her features. Her hair waved behind her in the breeze, the sun giving the slight tan she had developed over the summer a soft glow accentuated by her makeup. The angle she was leaning against the railing at made it more than easy to look down her dress, hardly anything covered.

“I don’t love being stalked.” Both had had their fair share of creepy paparazzi on more than one occasion. It wasn’t something they talked about often, though the thought hung heavy in the air. Reaching for her glass, Jess took a long look at the woman, clearing her throat. “And put your tits away.”

Taylor smiled cheekily, seemingly leaning forward even more. It was as if she were trying to get on Jess’ already high-strung nerves, though two could play at that game. “I thought you liked them, Daddy.” She emphasized the final word, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Shut. Up.” Jess held the glass tighter in her grip, turning away from the woman. She left without another word, leaving the younger behind to fix herself. It would still be hours before they would be home, though they were both certain they would see each other again. The moods the two would be in, however, were a lot less certain.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Jess watched as the younger posed against the wall, some man taking photos of her. She knew Taylor was doing it on purpose; the fact that they had made eye contact multiple times was more than enough of an indicator. Yet still, it pissed the senator off beyond comparison, barely thinking it over before she was marching up to the young woman. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking pictures. What does it look like I’m doing?” Taylor only rolled her eyes, continuing to pose. She bent forward, much like she had earlier, barely any fabric hiding her tits. A smirk was thrown Jess’ way, a kiss at the man.

“That’s enough. I can take it from here.” Jess reached for the phone, shooing the man away in a move that was less than polite. She pocketed the girl’s phone, stopping the impromptu photo session within seconds. “Let me ask again, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Like I said, taking pictures.” Taylor scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Sure, she had asked a rando to take her pictures in an attempt to get the woman to her, though she wasn’t impressed it had backfired so quickly. She rolled her eyes, blowing air from her pursed lips.

“Taking pictures like a slut?” Jess scoffed, fixing the woman with a glare. Taylor had a tendency to brat out, especially when she wanted attention, though this was unusual, even for her. “We’re at a charity event and you’re slutting yourself out for a random man?”

“Oh please, I wasn’t slutting myself out. You’re just jealous.” Taylor rolled her eyes, reaching up to play with a strand of her hair. She knew she was in trouble, even before they had left the house. Why not play it up a bit? The only thing that could happen would be another punishment, and she was more than willing to pay that price.

“Jealous of what?” Jessica pressed, stepping closer to the woman. Their chests were nearly touching, the world around them fading to soft blurs. In this moment it was only them and the tension between them. She would’ve found it hot if they were at home, though she was far more fed up than amused.

“Jealous of the fact that I’m getting more attention than you.” The word ‘bitch’ mumbled under her breath, squinting her eyes at the woman. She knew those words would do it, by the way the older woman’s body tensed. She took a step closer, their noses now practically touching.

“Quit being a fucking brat.” Jess spit out as she grabbed the dirty blonde’s wrist, stopping her from walking away. As the number of warnings she got went up, the patience the senator had got lower. She was lucky they were at a very public, very important event, or she’d have been bent over hours ago.

“Then quit being a fucking bitch.” Taylor snarled right back, with possibly more venom than needed. She didn’t care, though. There was no reason for Jess to be as pushy as she was. Why couldn’t she take photos to post later if she wanted to?

“Excuse me?” The older grasped her wrist harder as she tried to walk away again, this time not letting her grip loosen. She was shocked to hear those words, especially after the talk they had earlier. Jess glanced around them, assuring they weren’t being watched, before pulling the girl closer. “Would you like to say that again? And watch your fucking attitude.”

“Then you,” Taylor met the woman with the same intensity, the pointer on her free hand coming up to poke at the woman’s chest, “stop being a fucking bitch.” She crossed her arms over her chest, meeting the same intensity that the other woman held. She was fed up. All of her attempts to gain her attention had gone to waste, shrugged off as if she were nothing.

“Let’s go.” Jess would be damned if anyone saw them, too focused on taking care of the girl to even care. She dragged her to the bathroom, practically throwing her inside the small room. “Fucing brat.” The short-haired woman snarled, turning to face the door. She inhaled deeply before turning around, ignoring the ‘what the fuck’ thrown at her.

Jessica locked the door behind her, a sense of cockiness filling her as she did. Taylor would face the consequences of her actions, publicity be damned. “You have about two seconds to apologize before I give you something to whine about.” Her hand almost immediately threaded through the younger’s hair, settling at the base of her skull and pulling upwards.

“Apologize for what? I wasn’t the one being a bitch.” Taylor scoffed, yanking her head back in an attempt to have her hair dropped. It didn’t work and only encouraged the older to pull harder, which in turn made the younger struggle just slightly against her grasp.

“I said: apologize, whore.” Jess grasped her hair harder, a gasp pulled from the younger woman’s throat. She knew how easy it was to rile up the blonde and vice versa. If she wanted to be a bitch, two could play that game.

“Fucking bitch.” Taylor spit at the woman’s heeled feet, actually spit, a flame in her eye that wouldn’t go away. She practically snarled, rolling her eyes and tossing her hair back, effectively pulling the older woman’s hand out of her hair.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” The words just barely resonated with the blonde before her head jerked to the side, falling to her knees, pain blooming throughout her cheek. The same hand that had slapped her, Taylor knew due to the warmth and slight buzzing that seemed to connect them, pulled her face back over and up, not giving her time to even react to the hit. Fire blazed behind her eyes as they stared up at Jess, her chest heaving.

“Cunt.” The speed at which two fingers were forcefully shoved down the younger’s throat was enough to make her choke, the acrylics of the older woman’s nails easily hitting the back of her throat. Despite the fact that Taylor was the best little cocksucker Jess had found, and she had had her fair share of free trials, she loved how easily it was to make her gag. The sound she made was enough by itself to turn her on, though the feeling was exquisite too.

“You keep running that goddamn mouth thinking I’m not going to do anything, huh?” Jess raised both of her eyebrows as her face tilted down just slightly, fixing the younger with a questioning look. Her hand followed where the blonde whipped her head back and forth in an attempt to dislodge her fingers. Even as Taylor’s hands came up to grasp her wrist and push it away, she continued to press forward.

“What? Too dumb to say anything back?” The taller woman faked sympathy, pouting condescendingly. She pushed her fingers forward before pulling them out, a sense of pride filling her as she watched the girl bend forward, hair falling in front of her face as she coughed. With a coo, Jess squatted, reaching through a curtain of blonde hair to tilt her chin up, meeting a pair of rage, and lust, filled eyes.

Taylor glared at the older though her vision swam with a mix of tears and arousal, grinding her teeth together. “Fuck. You.” The influencer spat through her teeth, her chest heaving. She knew she was going to be punished, if Jess’ earlier threats weren’t obvious enough, the unmistakable anger on her face was more than enough to send any man to their knees.

Jess’ nose twitched, her throat tightening as her hand traveled down the blonde’s neck, easily closing against it. “You just don’t fucking learn, do you?” She stood, not letting go of the younger as she did so, instead pulling her up and allowing her to dangle for a moment before dragging her towards the sink. The woman was thrown over the porcelain, her head bouncing off said counter with a resounding thud.

Taylor whimpered at the pain spiraling through her head, attempting to stand and reach for her head, only to be stopped by the politician. Jess easily grabbed the younger’s wrists, holding them behind her back, her free hand pressing down between her shoulder blades. “Don’t even fucking think about it, slut.”

“Ow.” The dirty blonde half whimpered, half moaned against the sink, squirming in her place. She was more than aware of the senator’s hands pushing the skirt of her dress up, a spank accompanying the motion. “What the fuck!” She yelped, though more from shock than pain.

“You wanna act like a fucking slut, you get punished like a fucking slut.” Was all Jess said as her free hand tugged the girl’s lacy thong down, bending over to pick it up and study it for a second. “Fucking pathetic. Getting off on your punishment. Whore.” The cropped-haired woman shoved them in the pocket of her pants, before another slap against the younger’s behind rang out through the room.

“Stop!” Taylor pushed her hips forward, trying to escape the slaps against her ass. It was futile, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Her hands were held behind her and there was no way she could squirm away, not with how high her heels were. It would most likely lead to her toppling over and she didn’t want to hit her head for a second time that night.

“You don’t get a say in this, bitch. So I suggest you start counting before I start over.” Jess threatened, her hand coming down yet again. She waited for Taylor to yelp out the word one, mere seconds before her hand came down again. She never hit the same spot twice, alternating both cheek and power with each hit. It had the younger crying by the twelfth hit, a mess of tears and whimpers.

Jess’ hand came down hard on the blonde’s ass, the sharp resounding slap of skin on skin reverberating through the small bathroom. She waited, curling her fingers until her nails dug into the soft flesh they rested on. “If you sto-” The woman was cut off by a wail from the younger, her form shaking with poorly hidden sobs.

“N-nineteen!” Taylor nearly screamed, rocking between her feet under the other’s harsh gaze. Her entire body shook with how hard she was sobbing, a mixture of tears and snot running down her face. She hardly even cared about how smudged she knew her makeup would be, able to see globs of black streaked across her cheeks, another product of her punishment, no doubt.

“Good.” Was all Jess said before her hand came down one last time, landing squarely on the girl’s already sensitive sit spot. She couldn’t care less about how loud they were being, far more focused on beating the brat out of the girl bent over in front of her. She watched with satisfaction as the girl yelped, her body quivering with the way she sunk against the sink. “Number.”

Taylor grasped at the faucet, her knuckles white with how strong she was holding it as tears continued to fall down her cheeks. “T-” She was cut off by a sob, pressing her face against her arm. It took her another sob before she spit the word out. “Twenty.”

“Good girl, Taylor.” Jess gently pulled the girl off of the sink, gathering her in her arms before sitting on the floor. Taylor clung to her almost instantly, her face slotting against her neck, fists grasping at her shirt. “It’s all done, baby. You’re okay.” The older woman murmured against her ear, holding her tight against her body.

“Good girl, Tay. You’re my good girl.” Jess hushed the girl, running her fingers through the loose curls cascading down her back. The younger continued to sob, her entire body flinching with how violent they were. Jess rocked back and forth just slightly, attempting to soothe her in any way possible. “My good girl, taking her punishment so well. Such a good girl.”

The short-haired woman swayed until the younger’s sobs subsided, though she didn’t let her go right away. “Look at me, Tay.” Jess prompted softly, using the hand still carding through long hair to gently tilt her head back. She waited until the dirty blonde did so, smiling softly at the girl. “You’re such a good girl, Taylor, even if you were acting up today. Now, you’re gonna get your Uber and I’ll meet you at home, okay baby girl?”

"Okay.” Taylor hiccuped softly, pushing her chin back into the woman’s neck. Neither of them cared about how much time passed, sitting on the floor of the bathroom, merely basking in each other. Jess ultimately had to force the younger up, helping her clean her makeup before sending her off, a kiss against her lips as a silent promise that she wouldn’t be long.

#Taylor Sloaned x Jess Thayer #taylor sloane #jess thayer #ingrid goes west #rough night

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eemcintyre · 8 months

Text

Let the Games Begin

TW- era-appropriate but questionable attitudes about women and non-American cultures; predatory/mildly stalker-y vibes

Summary- Terry Silver (80s edition™️) is determined to claim the one woman at Dynatox who doesn't appear to be interested in him, and he concocts an elaborate scheme by which to do so.

Alright everyone, we are officially rolling on Part 1 of this series! Hours and days have gone into this, my most involved post to date. I hope everyone has as much fun reading this as I did writing it 🥰🤞🏻 This series will take much longer between posts for obvious reasons, but rest assured that I am working diligently and keep your eyes peeled for the next part!

Terry Silver hadn’t been able to truly focus on his work since the previous autumn; one year ago. What he had done, and was doing at the present moment, had been a lot of delegating and a lot of smoking cigars with his feet propped on his desk.

What had started out as a minor annoyance had mutated into an undeniable obsession, so revolting that he was almost nauseated. As much as he tried to deny it to himself, Terry could feel the situation gradually spiraling out of his control. When she’d started appearing in his dreams a few nights ago, robbing him of even the briefest moment of peace, that’s when he really felt his control and composure starting to slip and knew something drastic needed to be done.

She. Valerie. She who had been hired one year ago to work for Dynatox as a public relations specialist (no easy task these days with the growing environmentalist movement). Who had quickly become one of their hardest and most talented workers; who was polite and quick-witted, and who, although certainly plain-looking in the grand scheme of what the state of California had to offer, had the nerve to be the only woman in the company who wouldn’t give Terry Silver the time of day.

Over her comparatively brief tenure at Dynatox, she’d been pleasantly surprised to work her way up to the top floor. It was a convenient coincidence that this was where Terry’s office was. The proximity had afforded him countless opportunities to drop lines and try to pique her interest, but, every time, he was unceremoniously shut down, whether she politely laughed it off as a joke or regaled him with her very full roster of work tasks.

These interactions left Terry in a state of confused fury. After all, what made her, some nobody public relations rep from nowhere, think she was so special? Where did someone like her get off treating someone like him so ambivalently, when any other woman would consider herself lucky to attract his interest?

She didn’t wear a ring or appear to be dating another man, and for a time, he’d wondered if she was a lesbian. However, after digging into her history, he found that she had once seriously dated a man back home (home being the other side of the country) and casually gone out with a couple of others since arriving in California, but nothing had come of them. So, what was the problem? Tapping into the company grapevine, he found that, rather, her reservations regarding him seemed to be that she was well-aware of- and thoroughly unimpressed by- his playboy reputation.

Terry clenched his jaw as he stared through his open office doorway, a perfect window to Valerie’s desk. Her pretentious round glasses, the fawnlike, coy hazel eyes behind them, and her bland but form-fitting skirt suits all seemed to taunt him. He could have her fired at the snap of his fingers, and he often comforted himself with this knowledge, but it would be far more satisfying to somehow get her in his clutches, make her see what she was missing out on and make her equally obsessed with him. Have her in every conceivable way and ruin her for anyone else- better yet, trick her into falling in love with him- just so he could drop her like she was nothing and put her back in her place.

At this immensely appealing thought, Terry took a lusty puff of his cigar, the smoke hovering over Valerie’s figure before dissipating along its upward path. He’d taken to smoking in his office more and more often- she thought he hadn’t picked up on the way she glared at him every time she detected the scent, but he caught it every time and it gave him an admittedly childish satisfaction. It was just too hilarious how easy it was to get the little thing so riled up, thinking her insignificant opinion mattered at all when he himself was on every fucking Forbes list and the provider of her livelihood.

Her soft laugh floated through the doorway from where she sat at her desk, engaging in a friendly exchange with the person across from her. She was wearing red lipstick today. It was as if she was purposely trying to torment him. Terry watched her raise a teacup to her lips and studied the lipstick stain left behind on the rim with particular attention, wondering what it tasted like.

If he were to just openly ask her out, she would undoubtably say no. A covert operation would be required. The previous night, over a thoughtful soak in the bath and a glass of whiskey, he’d managed to finally come up with the perfect plan. With just the right amount of basis in reality, it would be cunning enough to fool even her while being a lot of fun along the way for him.

He would ask her to act out a fake relationship with him, the pretense being that he was trying to get back at an exe, as well as temper his wild image for potential investors who were not too enthusiastic about his outrageous lifestyle. To lay a believable amount of groundwork for everyone around them, the ruse would start months in advance- it was early autumn now, and the plan would culminate with the perfect event- the suitably theatrical backdrop of the company’s annual Christmas gala.

The exe would be a real figure from Terry’s past- Alicia Harlow. A fellow high-profile figure in the business realm- specifically the heir to AllNation, the U.S.’s number-one insurance company- they maintained a tenuous acquaintance with each other for the sake of their respective business interests. It was also true that, while she currently spent her time traveling from country to country, Alicia would be spending Christmas in California to visit relatives and recuperate at home for the first time in a few years. Though Terry really hardly cared what Alicia thought of him, secure in the knowledge that the breakup was all her loss, it would be an added bonus to reconnect with her just to show off how well he was doing and make her jealous.

Not only would this scheme serve to lessen Valerie’s suspicions of ulterior motives toward her, thinking all such motives were directed toward Alicia, but Terry could evoke her sympathy if he really laid it on thick with the pathetic, rejected-lover-with-a hurt-ego act. Show her that he was so much more than the narrow view his reputation regrettably portrayed. Finally, to ensure it would be an offer she couldn’t turn down, he was going to offer to double her holiday bonus. That kind of money would be hard for anyone to refuse- especially someone like her- and to him, it was pocket change anyway.

The process of researching Valerie had gone beyond just her dating history and Terry had also delved into her financial situation. Apparently, her move across the country was all part of some grand plan to prove to herself and her family that she could “make it on her own” and attain the kind of success and renown that she had been told was unreasonable. It made perfect sense why she worked at Dynatox- she was about as ambivalent to the company’s goals as she was to the man who oversaw them, but it was a highly successful company. Her eyes betrayed her hunger to get somewhere, be someone, and there was a good place to do it.

It was such a terribly overdone and insipid trope that Terry would have been disappointed if it wasn’t going to work so well to his benefit. While she was paid well for her work, living in California wasn’t cheap. Apparently, she lived in some shithole apartment that just bordered the rough part of town. Some extra funds would definitely capture her attention and were likely to seal the agreement.

Yes, Terry could work with that. His plan would take a lot of work, but he was no stranger to hard work- he was a stranger, however, to not getting what he wanted when he wanted it.

He summoned her to his office.

Valerie had observed Mr. Silver out of the corner of her eye and noted that he’d been reclining, feet on the desk and cigar between his lips, for a solid half hour. While the rest of the floor hummed with activity- and the PR team had been double-timing it lately, managing a situation in the Midwest where protestors were objecting to a new Dynatox plant in their area- he seemed not to have a care in the world.

Therefore, upon receiving a page on the telephone from him, summoning her to his office, Valerie punched the last few letters of the document she was typing abnormally hard. She respected the man as her boss; as someone who had built up a highly successful company that was currently paying her bills. But, beyond that, he exhibited many of the traits that she found to be the most abhorrent, from his short-fused and loud temper to the way he peacocked his wealth and good looks… Yes, she’d be lying to herself if she said his imposing stature, intense topaz-blue eyes and glossy, dark hair weren’t attractive. She could be fair and impartial enough to acknowledge that. But what a waste.

Reaching the end of the sentence she was typing, Valerie took a last sip of tea, as if to prepare herself. Knowing that he had a direct line of sight to her desk all the while, and feeling his eyes on her, she took her sweet time meandering into Mr. Silver’s office.

“Mr. Silver, you wanted to see me?” she inquired, lingering in the doorway. She took in the details of his attire: his white trousers and loose-fitting navy button-up, the gold chain around his neck and the diamond stud in his left ear all reeked of California excess. Not to mention the slicked-back ponytail- Valerie had no idea what he possibly thought he was doing with that stylistic choice.

“Yes, Ms. Clancy, come in,” he replied, gesturing her forward. “You can shut the door behind you.” The words themselves were a suggestion, but he phrased it like an order.

She coughed pointedly upon entering the cloud of cigar smoke that encircled him.

“Sit down,” he smiled warmly, uncrossing his long legs and resting them under the desk, replacing them with his elbows as he leaned toward her, hands folded.

Valerie sat with her own hands folded in her lap and adjusted her skirt, sitting under his piercing gaze and getting the irrational feeling like he could see through her clothes or something. Trying to maintain eye contact without turning red, she attempted to make their interaction as quick and painless as possible:

“If this is about the Midwest project, I told you that my team and I aren’t going to be able to get it to you any sooner than the end of the week. We’re already working double-time…”

“No, no,” he interjected, tapping the ashes off the end of his cigar into a tray on his desk. “There’s something else I need to discuss with you.”

“I… okay?” Utterly mystified, mildly annoyed, and growing a bit concerned, Valerie subconsciously adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. She mentally reviewed the tasks she’d completed recently, wondering if she’d unwittingly made some kind of mistake she was about to be reprimanded for.

“Oh, don’t look so worried,” he assured her, his gaze softening as he grinned apologetically. “I have a proposition for you.” Silver suddenly rose from his chair, cigar in hand, and began pacing lazily before her. “Ms. Clancy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Kimura Capital Investments?” he inquired, exhaling a stream of smoke in her direction.

“Of course. They’re the most prestigious investment group outside the States.” Her hands fisted in her lap as she blinked through the smoke. He nodded.

“Well, and keep this under wraps, if you don’t mind- they’ve expressed some interest in Dynatox. The only problem is that, being a Japanese company, they’re a lot more… traditional than what we’re used to. They have a lot of antiquated ideals when it comes to morals and values and all that jazz- plus the board members have it in their heads that I’m unstable; a loose cannon, if you will, and so they aren’t entirely comfortable handing me a bunch of their money. We’ve been courting them for months with everything we’ve got, but no luck yet.” He paused, temporarily setting the cigar down to smolder in the ashtray.

“I also don’t suppose you know a woman by the name of Alicia Harlow?” Though he paced back and forth, his gaze remained steadily on hers.

“No,” she shook her head, proud of herself for how she kept his eye contact unflinchingly. She watched as something not only in his eyes, but his entire expression changed, becoming shadowed. He briefly pursed his lips, glancing toward the floor, and shifted his lower jaw.

“Well, not only is she AllNation Insurance’s heir apparent, but she and I also used to go out. This was a couple of years ago, at this point, but she and I had a pretty messy split. We’ve maintained an acquaintance with each other because it benefits us both for our companies to work together. Of course, since she is an important business partner and she’ll be in town this winter, she is invited to this year’s Christmas gala.”

Silver finally ceased his pacing, leaning over his desk with his hands on the tabletop. He smiled ruefully.

“But it still hurts me to think of her, much less talk to her… this December will be the first time I have to see her in-person since we broke up, and she’s bringing her fiancé… Meanwhile, I think I’ll cut a pretty pathetic figure if I’m there by myself or with one of the random women I could pick up between now and then.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Silver, but I’m just confused what all of this has to do with me.” Valerie felt a headache coming on- whether it was from the smoke, missing valuable work time to listen to whatever point Mr. Silver was trying to make (so much for meeting that deadline), or merely being in his presence at all, she wasn’t sure.

“I guess I should get to that. Of course; you don’t want to hear my sob story,” he acknowledged, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “Valerie, I’d like you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Now, listen, before you say no: it would just be for a couple of months, and it would mean a lot to the company, and to me, for two reasons. First, and most importantly, if I can clean up my image- and being with one reasonably well-adjusted woman consistently for, well, longer than a week, let’s be honest- it would go a long way in the department of making me look more stable and whatever the hell else Kimura is so interested in. Then, the chances of them investing in Dynatox go up exponentially.”

He slid back into his desk chair so that he was close to and directly across from her. “It would be so good for the company and everyone who works here would benefit. Plus, and this would just be an added bonus on top of that, but I would be able to show Alicia that I’m doing well for myself without her and I’ve moved on. The breakup was really tough on me and it was hard to get over her, but I don’t want her to think she destroyed me, y’know?” He toyed with the signet ring on his right hand.

“But… why me, though? I’m sure you know plenty of other women who could do a better job than me.” Valerie eyed him incredulously, eyebrows knitted to a level she had never before reached.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Valerie. You may not be built like a model, but you’re decently attractive, and you’ve got a lot of things that most of the other women I know don’t.”

Valerie had to keep her mouth from falling open at the underhanded compliment, her incredulous look intensifying as Silver continued, seemingly obliviously, onward.

“You work hard at everything you put your mind to, and you’re trustworthy. This would be a challenging project that would require the utmost discretion. You’re also not currently seeing anyone, and besides, you work in public relations- you specialize in bullshit. You put on a show for a living.”

As much as Valerie was stunned, she was also intrigued by this extremely unusual proposal. Even if she was undoubtably going to say no, it didn’t hurt to find out more just to satisfy her curiosity. One thing that bothered her, however, was how did he know that she was single?

Speaking slowly, she asked: “When you say ‘pretend to be your girlfriend,’ what exactly would that entail?”

“Well, it would mean accompanying me to various events, posing in front of the media, and of course, a lot of play-acting on both our parts. I know it’s not in your job description, but I’m willing to make it very worth your while. How does it sound if I double your end-of-year bonus? Does that sound like a pretty sweet deal?”

Valerie was no longer able to keep her mouth from falling open. That kind of money was enough to make her sincerely rethink and consider his offer.

Outlandish and downright unbelievable as it was, the idea of leaving her cramped old apartment and living in an area of town where she didn’t have to constantly look over her shoulder was inviting. And, being able to show that achievement off to her doubtful family and friends back home… Silver wasn’t the only one interested in stirring up some feelings of regret. Still, this would require substantial commitment, in more ways than one. The idea of spending large amounts of time with him, let alone pretending to be affectionate toward him and having people think they were intimate with each other… Silver certainly noticed her face turning red now.

“Mr. Silver, I...”

“It would just be until the Kimura deal is resolved and the Christmas gala is over. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of months. After that, once Kimura is up to their ass in contractual obligations and Ms. Harlow thinks I’m the one that got away, we can easily taper things off and our ‘relationship’ can die a discreet and mysterious death.” His tone was so nonchalant, it was like he was discussing any everyday business deal.

“I… I don’t know…”

“I want you to think about it.” He reached his hand halfway across his desk in a reassuring gesture. “I need an answer soon, but not right away. It’s an odd request, to put it lightly; I’ll admit it.” He chuckled to himself again with a self-conscious smile. “It would be some extra work, of course, and sometimes it might be a little awkward, so if you agree I want you to really have considered it. But just try to think of it as a special work assignment. I would be eternally grateful. Do you think you can get back to me by, say, this time tomorrow?”

“Um… y-yes, sure.” Valerie’s own voice sounded to her ears like it was coming from some other person. She couldn’t believe what she had just said, but comforted herself that all she had agreed to do was think about it, which was the polite thing to do, anyway. She could refuse Silver’s offer tomorrow, letting him believe that she had at least carefully considered it before shooting it down.

“Great,” he replied, flashing his typical bright, expansive smile this time. Rising from his seat again, he guided her to the door as she walked stiffly in its direction. “Well, when you have your answer, just swing back by my office.” He placed one of his large hands on her shoulder, opening his office door with the other. “Thank you so much for your time.”

As she padded back to her desk, Valerie didn’t notice Silver snatch his cigar back out of the ashtray. Reclining back into his chair, legs crossed over the desk once more, he blew a smoke ring after her as she walked away. It was as if he was trying to rope her in with it so he could devour her.

Valerie sat back down at her own desk, her thoughts and everything around her seeming like they were hazed over. All she could think to herself at first was What the absolute hell was that? Who, besides cartoonish movie villains, thinks up a crazy scheme like that? And it would only be crazier for her to accept it.

But then there was, perhaps, the craziest part of all, which was also the most intriguing- the money. And sure, Valerie could understand the importance of getting Kimura to invest in Dynatox. She could also understand even more clearly the desire to prove people wrong and make them regret the things they said about you; Silver’s insecurity had finally humanized the larger-than-life, seemingly all-powerful, and invulnerable figure to her. If it was in fact true, it was hidden behind thick layers of pride, but maybe- just maybe- she had been wrong about him.

But the idea of proving her family and friends back home wrong, and even making them feel proud of her and proud to know her, was tempting. And the same went for those she had met in California- she knew that many of the people around her either looked down on or pitied her with her final-sale clothes and small apartment, while most of them wore the latest fashions and owned their own property. It would be nice to finally be seen as an equal.

Earning that extra money, and the increased security and status that would come with it, could really help her on her way to finally making some kind of mark on the world. If that journey had to start with pretending to be Terry Silver’s girlfriend, well, it could definitely be worse. How bad could it be, really? Mingle at an event here and there, call him “baby,” hold his hand and smile? Maybe have to kiss him a couple of times? If he could somehow keep his mouth shut over the entire next few months, it would really be all too easy.

Silver’s obnoxious personality and the fact that this all seemed too good to be true were what really stood in her way. Double her bonus, just to essentially play pretend for a couple of months? And speaking of pretend, two could play at that game. Where had this previously unseen sensitive and vulnerable side of his come from? She thought she had detected him flirting with her in the past, and for the briefest moment, she entertained the thought that this was all just some bizarre, elaborate plan to get her into bed with him.

But that thought almost immediately evaporated- while he might possibly want her just for the sake of being able to say he’d had her, Valerie doubted that he would go to such lengths to do so. As one of the most successful men in the country, Terry Silver could easily have his pick of the most desirable women out there. It must have to do purely with her other qualifications, like he’d said. The general word on the street must be true- Mr. Silver was just a very strange man.

While Valerie was attempting to parse through all of these lines of thought, her work friends had clustered around her as soon as she sat down. Without even bothering to hide their curiosity and concern, they immediately peppered her with questions about what Mr. Silver wanted and whether anything was wrong- after all, it was highly unusual to be called into his office like that. But Valerie managed to play it cool, eyes either glued to her computer or glancing innocently wide as she reassured them that he merely wanted to check in on the status of their project because it was so important. Having made it clear, by typing all the while, that she wanted to focus on her work, her friends soon lost interest and filtered away to their respective desks. Valerie was relieved it had worked, because, despite the calm and work-focused act, it was hard to concentrate the rest of the day.

Perfect, Terry thought to himself as he observed. She was going to be an even better actress than he’d anticipated.

It wasn’t merely at work where Valerie had trouble concentrating. Despite her best efforts, she continued to think about the meeting with Mr. Silver all evening- while she cooked and had dinner, while she showered, and as she fell asleep- she even dreamed about it.

She certainly didn’t enjoy having Terry Silver occupy that much of her mind, but what was worse was how, as the hours went on, the deal began to look more and more tempting. When was an opportunity like this going to come up again? Besides, she thought, it could be fun having some occasions to get dolled up; pretend like she wasn’t single and her life was far more interesting than it really was.

By the end of the following workday, she had made up her mind. In actuality, she had made her decision that morning, but it took most of the day to convince her body to cooperate with her mind and carry her into Silver’s office to tell him.

An hour before business drew to its daily close, the same time as yesterday, Valerie had finally sorted out what she wanted to say to the best of her ability and scrounged up the gumption to enter Silver’s office. She entered without knocking and he looked up, telephone receiver to his ear, briefly glaring daggers until he registered that it was Valerie who had interrupted.

“Yeah. Yeah, listen- I’ll call you back. I said I’ll call you back.” He hung up, his eyes softening and posture relaxing, though inside he was fuming that she’d not only interrupted him but also made him wait this long to give her answer. Nothing like waiting for the last minute. She’s really relishing this, huh? He thought. You think it’s fun to get under my skin, babydoll? You want to make me squirm? Just wait until the tables are turned on you… But he bit all trace of this back, greeting her with merely a welcoming smile.

“Mr. Silver, I’ve made up my mind,” she declared before he had a chance to make even a cursory greeting. She hadn’t meant to burst in quite so unceremoniously, but she had started the luge- there was no getting off the sled now.

“Wonderful, of course, come in,” he replied, gesturing her closer. She closed the door without being asked this time. “Sit down.”

Too concentrated on how to deliver what she was about to say, his words did not register with Valerie and she continued to stand awkwardly.

“Mr. Silver,” she repeated.

“Yes?” he lightly tapped his desk with a pen as it was becoming difficult for him to conceal his impatience.

She drew in a breath. “I understand how significant a deal with Kimura would be for everyone at this company and I don’t want to stand in the way of that- I would like to help if I can. But while I can sympathize with the situation with Ms. Harlow, honestly, your personal life is not really my concern and I’m still a bit confused how I’m the supposed best fit for that role...”

“I appreciate your honesty.”

Valerie couldn’t tell if his tone was meant to be sarcastic or genuine. Either way, she realized that she did not want to show weakness; she needed to appear confident, lest he begin to see things from her point of view as well and change his mind, meaning all of this thought and discussion would be embarrassingly all for nothing. Plus, she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. Speaking more forcefully and clasping her hands in front of her, she continued:

“...Like any other assignment, I would be prepared to give it my all and your belief would not be misplaced…”

“Ms. Clancy, I just need a yes or a no.” He said, his face and body language cool and motionless apart from raising his eyebrows.

“Yes. I accept,” she blurted out at last.

Silver’s level expression broke into a wide grin as he exclaimed “Oh, that’s great-”

“-But I have conditions,” she attempted to reel his enthusiasm back in, uncomfortable with how gleeful the news had made him. “I want to be compensated very well. I’m not ashamed to tell you that my main interest in this is for the money.”

Silver’s delighted expression and tone went unbothered by her gravity. He tossed aside the pen that had been clasped triumphantly in his fist. “You’ll get double your bonus, as promised. It’ll be in your bank account the second the last guest leaves the gala.”

“And I want it in writing.”

“Smart woman,” Silver nodded approvingly. “I just so happen to already have a contract drawn up.” He swiveled in his chair, snatching up a paper from the table behind his desk. “It’s basic, but it will do. I’ve already had my secretary notarize it.”

Valerie studied the signature at the bottom of the page that read “Margaret Spencer” in neat cursive. While Silver’s foresight made things efficient, she was irritated that he had assumed she would say yes.

“And we can’t take it too far.” She made her final, perhaps most important demand. “With the public affection.”

“Would you like me to draw up a contract for that, too? Hand-holding acceptable, no heavy petting or kissing with tongue?” He chuckled, meeting her solemn gaze with a mocking glint. She reddened, but did not flinch.

“That won’t be necessary. I just want to set expectations. After all, at the end of the day, I don’t care how much you’re paying me- I’m a businesswoman, not an actress or an escort. There are certain boundaries we can’t cross.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Silver assured her, like he was ever the gentleman. Inside, he looked forward to when he would indeed cross every single one.

Terry didn’t appreciate her thinking she could order him around. He kept his outward composure, but he knew that a long and aggressive karate training session was going to be in order when he arrived home that evening.

“I guess it’s settled, then.” He clapped his hands together. “Good. Now, I believe I made it clear yesterday that time is not on our side here. We’ll have to start planning and preparing this weekend, so you’ll have to cancel any plans. I’ll have a car sent to pick you up and take you to my place Saturday morning.”

“Mr. Silver, you don’t need to do that-” Valerie protested, not wanting to feel like a charity case or to be more obligated to him than she already was.

“-Of course not.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But it’s my pleasure, and it’s easier than giving you directions and getting you through security. Is 10 AM too early?”

“Not at all.” She paused, not sure how to respond to this new barrage of unusual requests and information. “Should I… bring anything?”

He chuckled. “No. But Valerie, you should start calling me Terry.”

“Alright… Terry.” The syllables felt foreign on her tongue, but not entirely repulsive.

“Maybe not around the office,” he added, “In the interest of maintaining some façade of professionalism, but of course, the lines are going to start to blur…”

“Of course,” she nodded, adjusting her glasses.

“I really can’t tell you how thankful I am.” Although she was still standing, he leaned in, voice lowered. “Regardless of whatever your reasons are, you’re helping me out a lot. More than you know.” He paused and they merely held silent eye contact for a moment. He was impressed by how long she returned his stare, but was pleased when she eventually was the first to break the contact and glance uncomfortably at the wall behind him.

“Well, until Saturday. I’ll see you bright and early.”

“Mr. Silver.” She nodded again, this time in farewell, stepping out of his office as suddenly as she had come in.

As she wrapped up her work for the day, Valerie felt weird and inexplicably dirty. She tried to focus on the money and everything she would be able to do with it. She told herself that she was just doing him a favor and being nice. It was just an extra work task. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of what the hell have I done?

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver #cobra kai #the karate kid #creative writing #enemies to lovers #fake dating #karate kid fanfiction

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twopoppies · 11 months

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Hi Gina 🧡 I wanted your opinion on holiv*a and the photos of the fans when they met them on the street or somewhere "by chance".I read that this is a scam and they paid fans who took pictures with merchandise or some ticket, but I don't know how true it is and I want to know what you think.I want to know since there are people who say that this is nonsense since Harry is photographed by himself all the time and it is real. But, how was it in the case of holivia's PR?There are also a lot of people who say that in the RS interview when Harry says that he doesn't choose to be in a public relationship, he implies that he goes out freely with his partners and can't avoid being photographed and kited, but he doesn't choose to be . Which is weird, since it can be hidden for months 🤣 I'm sorry if my English is bad, but I would appreciate if you can give me your opinion about these two situations, or if you know of any blog that has talked about this

Hi honey. I don’t think they paid fans, but I do think Harry and Olivia either went to very touristy areas in every city they were photographed in, or that career fans (stalkers) were tipped off as to their locations, so either way it would look as if it was organic and they were just out because they love each other so much and love walking around the city together for hours. 🙄

And yeah, H gets photographed alone, but it’s always when he’s working (doing promo). He goes weeks on end without being seen.

Harry’s comment in Rolling Stone was purposely vague.

Styles, without prompting, points out how silly he finds some of the arguments about how he may identify to be: “Sometimes people say, ‘You’ve only publicly been with women,’ and I don’t think I’ve publicly been with anyone. If someone takes a picture of you with someone, it doesn’t mean you’re choosing to have a public relationship or something.”

He’s splitting hairs here and saying he has never chosen to have a public relationship, so therefore he hasn’t “publicly been with anyone”. He’s never confirmed any of the supposed relationships he’s been rumored to have. So, technically, he’s not lying. People who think he dares women can still think he dates women and is being coy, and those of us who believe he’s queer can read between the lines. And, as you say, he can go months without being seen, so if he’s being seen (and being seen with someone he’s rumored to be dating), people who understand the way the industry operates will roll their eyes and say, “I guess promo season has started”.

#harry’s image

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sketchfanda · 3 months

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Kirishima’s Mystique:2 Bunnies & a Riot

If you were to ask Kirishima how he felt about his life, he’d likely say it was about 51% sweet as can be and 49% grief and hassle. Now why you may be asking, is that his particular answer? Well let’s sum up the 51%, he had graduated UA along with some of his best friends, had two awesome,sexy as hell and kinky as fuck girlfriends, who he shared an apartment with and was currently interning as a sidekick under the best damn father/big brother figure around in Fatgum. Daily routines of training, patrol, community service and much more made for an active and fulfilling career for sure.

The 49% on the other hand well was the hell he currently found himself facing. Why and what is that you might ask? Well it had to do with his current job at the moment you see. It was simple enough routine stuff, a very high up socialite single mother and her daughter had been victims of harassment from a stalker and requested Kirishima specifically as their bodyguard.

Seems he’d come very highly recommended and was considered the right man for the job which admittedly did quite a boost in his sense of self esteem. The problem you might ask? Oooh where to even begin but one thing the study himbo knew was, if mineta ever found about this? There was no doubt the grape runt woild cursing him and crying bloody tears harder than when he found out about the chivalrous tank’s relationship with Mina and Maya.

The clients in question you see were American relatives of Fatgum's fierce shortstack girlfriend, Rumi Usagiyama aka the no.5 nation ranked hero Mirko. Which showed in their having similar but different rabbit based heteromorph mutation quirks which made them quite exotic and more than easy on the eyes. The friendly, casual widow Patricia Bunny and her quirky, (pun unintended) feisty spitfire of a daughter Lola were the sort of gals who turned heads and made jaws drop wherever they went and it showed. Unfortunately for Kirishima of course, the problem for him was the duo were a veritable tag team of god-fuck-damned teases and flirts!!!

Now don't get him wrong, Patricia and Lola were very affable clients who made sure he was comfy while he stayed over acting as their bodyguard. The Bunny duo of course staying at a lovely little hotel and ensuring he had a room to himself. And so far, so good there hadn't been sign of trouble from this stalker of theirs, yet anyway. But not a day ever passed by when either mother or daughter wasn't seeming to go out of their way to make him die of arousal as he recalled certain moments and events coming to mind.

~Montage of Kirishima's Lament~

Lola:"Hey Red, found my old basketball gear? Still fits, don't you think?"*the plucky bunny bombshell seeming asked innocently as she stood in front of Kirishima while he sat on the couch watching tv. Just casually spinning a basketball on her finger with ease and skill with a coy smile on her cute and sexy face. The hardhead redhead's crimson eyes unable to tear away from how small and snug that outfit was on her. Her shorts riding up to the point they seemed like a thong as her jersey exposed her toned midriff and the underside of her perky boobs.*

Kirishima:".....I'm sorry what was the question again?" *Facepalming hard at just blurting out such a simple and stupid question. His face as red as his hair as Lola seemed pretty amused at his reaction. It only got worse for him when Lola convinced him to play a few rounds of hoops with her to pass the time. Suffice to say seeing in her motion in that outfit was a whole new level of awkward for him….*

~~~~~~ Patricia:*sunbathing by the hotel pool as Kirishima stood by as per his role as bodyguard. The thicc milf catching his attention as she waved at him and held up a bottle.*”Sorry to be a bother but could put this lotion on me? Can’t quite reach my own back you know and got to make sure this fur stays sleek and silky smooth..”*She had to be doing this on purpose, just her one piece swimsuit alone hugged that plump, curvy MILF body of hers in all the right ways. But she was the boss, so to speak...*

Kirishima:"....o-okay..."*That was all he could say as he nodded dumbly, accepting the bottle as he couldn't look away. Patricia's back to him as she peeled off the top of her swimsuit and laid on her frontside on the chair. Her furry tits pressing against the surface of her towel as she awaited her lotion. The sounds she began to make soon as he put his soaking hands on her didn't help his libido, nor did the feel of her skin and fur under the touch of his palms and fingers.*

-----------------------

Among other such examples of course whether it was individually or together, mother and daughter's teasing and flirting had been wreaking havoc on our resident himbo. Be it their shopping trips where they would try on all sorts of outfits and show them off to him, especially lingerie or swimwear. Or how they took their sweet time dressing or undressing and seeming to forget to leave their bedroom door closed and locked, likewise when showering or bathing. Of course he couldnt ever find time for a little privacy to rub one out, like he really wanted to pull a Mineta!!

Don't even get him started of course on the stealthy groping and feel copping they'd pull, making it clear they found him more than easy on the eyes and enjoying that physique of his. Oh sure, he'd say that was just them being teasing but friendly, their own way of showing appreciation for keeping them feeling safe and secure from this whole stalker thing. But there was a part of him that felt a sense of deja vu, after all this was the kind of thing he'd see Mirko doing the same thing to Fatgum plenty of times, that feisty shortstack really loved riling up her "Gummy Bear" she so loved to call him affectionately. And a small part of him did rather like it, reminded him of Mina and Maya, who naturally teased him and asked if he'd gotten around to really having some "Fun" with the mother daughter duo to which he made certain to deny.

Not to say the temptation wasn't there of course, so many sleepless nights and waking up to such major morning wood that he had to rub one out first chance he could. You try keep your libido at bay when you had all this going on as the sturdy hero lounged on the couch in his suite, idly channel surfing to keep his mind busy. Reminding himself that sooner or later, this mission would have to end and they'd part ways soon as they dealt with this whole stalker crisis. It was kind of a downer, teasing and flirting aside Patricia and Lola were a sweet pair.

His train of thought and his channel surfing of course came to a pause as his phone buzzed, seeing a text from Lola that seemed pretty direct and serious. Requesting for him to come to hers and her mother's room as soon as he could, that they needed to discuss something urgently. No doubt some recent development came up in regards to their Stalker as he decided not to keep them waiting too long, exiting his room and making his way to their bedroom door. Knocking first of course as he waited for a response, after all it'd be impolite to barge in before announcing himself.

Soon as the door opened of course, he didn't have much of a chance to say anything as Lola's firm but silky hand grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him right inside. The door shutting behind him as he heard the telltale signs of it being locked, greeted with only darkness as it was evening time. Only to hear the telltale signs of Lola and Patricia giggling in that sensual, teasing tone he had become more than well acquainted with when he heard the click of a lightswitch being flipped on. The room being illuminated and his eyes greeted by the sight of the mother and daughter rabbit babes standing before him as they were rocking some of the sexiest lingerie ensembles that guaranteed any hot blooded man would get a raging hard-on for.

The mother daughter bunny rabbit duo's grins were as sensual as they were mischiveous as they took in Kirishima's gobsmacked reaction. Devious intentions twinkling in their eyes as their differing but equally sexy furry bombshell frames struck pin-up poses showing off akin to a peacock with ita tailfathers. Knowing full well what it was doing for and to him as they glanced at his crotch to see his shorts develope a swelling bulge which made them tingle with anticipation. Their bodyguard speechless naturally as they decided to answer his unspoken questions to what was even going on right now.

Lola:"Hey there handsome, like what you? We definitely hope so because tonight, we're all yours to do what you'd like. And yes that's exactly what it sounds like...."*The younger lapin stunner spoke in a husky tone as she made her way on over to their sturdy protector. Hands caressing his chest, cooing at feeling those firm pecs before she made her way down to grasp the end of his tanktop. Giggling at just how mindblown the Red Riot hero was seeming going by the look on his face. All the while her big beauty of a mom made her way to hug him from behind as her hands snaked under said shirt to tease and caress his washboard abs.*

Patricia:"Really now, two gals like us in our sexual prime sharing company of a looker like you under the same roof for hours and days on end? It gives ideas and you been doing such a wonderful job making us feel safe. Chivalry like that deserves a little something special so better bring your A guy, you absolute unit it you..."*The sexy widow teased playfully, her and daughter giggling as they ambushed Kirishima with sudden kisses. Patricia having a turn first as she really showed her experience, tongue dancing and exploring his mouth as she blew his mind. Before Lola made her move for her turn, pressing her muzzled lips as she memorised his particular taste and flavour, delighted to find him instinctively returning the sloppy kiss. Increasing the intensity of their sensual oral dance by making it a 3 way kiss, as the primal portion of Kirishima's brain kicked in to tell him he was kissing a sexy mother and daughter at the same time.*

It was a spark of a thought that found his body rolling with the wave of momentum bourhgt forth by Patricia and Lola's sinful make-out session as they pried his tanktop off of him. Giggling and purring as they relished the sight and feel of his Herculean physique, his muscles delightful to their touuch. Pulling the hard-headed redhead towards the bed with them as they plaufylly but firmly nudged him to fall and lay back down, hands quickly grabbing his shorts by the waistbands as they pulled them down. Boxers and all as their eyes widened, sensual blushes and grins on their faces as they gasped in awe at the sight of his exposed cock and balls, that pulsing length and girth of pussy pleasing, womb hammering heaven fully erect and ready to rock their world as Kirishima's Libido had taken the helm.

They wasted no time in expression their desire for this prime specimen of man as they knelt down, grasping his shaft in their hands as they commenced with a double team mother daughter fellatio. Assauling that fuckhammer from tip to base with licks and kisses, taking turns sucking and blowing on it as they drowned it with a generous shower of their saliva. The taste and scent making their brains drown with pleasure as they even made sure to give his balls just as much attention, his groans and gasps of ectasy music to their ears as they deepthroated his shaft. Their pussies gushing through their silk panties in anticipation of this oral preview of the action they'd soon be getting from the sturdy himbo, thighs becoming sticky and soaked with their warm nectar.

Patricia:"Oooooh fuuuck yeah, sweetie if this goes wild enough I think I might be giving you a new little brother or sister in the future...."*The rowdy BBW MILf rabbit declared as she bounced and rode on Kirishima's cock cowgirl style. Her pussy finding the experience of his length and girth filling it even better than anticipated, as her juicy furry ass jiggled with every impact. Her now braless tits bouncing hypnotically as Lola groped and played with herself, biting her lip erotically as she waited for her turn. Kirishima gritting his shark teeth as his hands firmly held onto the thick, juicy single mama's hips.*

Lola:"AAaahhn, so much better than beating and rubbing one out in the bathroom, right cutie? How long you wanted this? Be honest, I'm sure it's hot..."*The spunky, fesity rabbit babe quipped sensually, her husky voice filling the room with moans as she found Kirishima getting a little more assertive, abrasive even to the delight of her and her mother. Bouncing on his lap as she found his hands on her well toned bubbly ass, her tits rubbing against his pecs, fur against skin as they conducted a seated lotus position. Tongue dancing with his in a sloppy kiss as Patricia laid a few feet from them on the bed regaining her strength from some mindnumbing orgasms as her pussy overflowed with a generous load of cream. The bombshell thinking there was no doubt their stud would also wind up making Patricia a grandmother if their himbo bull kept up such a pace and output.

It was certainly the case as Kirishima found himself going full primal caveman on the mother daughter rabbit duo, unleashing and venting days of pent up frustration and teasing. Yet also relishing their kinky desire to be so willing to give themselves to him like this as he unleashed the extent of his sexual experience, prowess and virility upon them. Going from taking them in turns to two on one much to their delight of course as it seems the duo had quite a very close boind to be so open to something right out of one of Mineta's porn video collection. The grapehead would no dout be hating the hardhead so bad right now or want to be him one way or another.

The luxury suite of Patricia and Lola's bedroom was a symphony of eroticism, echoing howls and moans of passion making sweet music with the rhythm of muscular skin slapping and pounding against furry, sexy skin. The now fully nude mother and daughter duo experiencing the Red Riot stamina machine first hand as their studly bodyguard seemed deadset on taking them to SatisfactionAvenue and back again even though this was supposed to be about rewarding him for such a job well done. Such a chivalrous gentleman even when it came to sex, the guy was a keeper!! And they loved it!!

From fucking one of them doggy style or missionary as they ate the other out, to laying atop one another as they made out while he pumped and thrust in turn into or in between their sloppy, hot pussies. To utilising his 1% trick just when it seemed like he was hitting his limit as he continued to make a veritable threesome kama-sutra with the bunny duo but little did they know he pretty much mre or less had done so with Mina and Maya. To say nothing of the thrill of taking it from anal style or having their heads hang off the edge of the bed as he would facefuck them or the feel of his pulsing cock as they gave him a titfuck, especially in tandem. But naturally it had to be when he came inside of them that they enjoyed the most, the primal thrill of feeling like there was no doubt this stud was going to be their breeding bull.

Little did this kinky threesome know of course was their stalker problem had just wound up resolving itself. Around the time that Kirishima had gotten the text to come to their bedroom, the twisted freak had located the hotel they were staying at and had rigged up a climbing harness. Making his way up to where their suite was located only to come upon their window just in time to see the double team blowjob the mother and daughter pair were giving their Red Riot stud. His brain having a breakdown to find his the objects of his twisted affection in the midst of sexual activity with some rando, it was too much for him to comprehend. But soon as they started doing the deed all the way, the delusional deviant's brain proceeded to stop working as the shock overwhelmed him.

It was enough to make him loose the grasp on his rig and harness, causing him to fall and land in the Olympic sized swimming pool of the hotel with a big splash. Naturally the security staff had been called and proceeded to call the police and some pros when they found the jackass' gearbag which was loaded with all sorts of incriminating evidence such as his secret photoes of Lola and Patricia and journals loaded with details like their work and personal routines. Mina and Maya had been among the heroes called, having arrived with the pros they were currently interning with as they secretly checked their phones, seeing the secret stream Lola was sending them. Leave it to their stud to cuck and ntr some prick stalker, such was the natural order of the world, you always get what you deserve.

They definitely needed to remember to thank Mirko for recommending their man to be her relatives' bodyguard, just as much as Lola was sure to thank them for the permission. After all what kind of girlfriends would they be keeping a sex god like their man to themselves? Naturally they'd need to check up on them and let them know the stalker issue had been sorted out. That is after the mother and daughter finished expressing their appreciation and gratitude to their chivalrous bodyguard, it was only polite not to blueball and clamblock them after all.

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inejschumacher · 5 months

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Lilies of Love - AE16

part 2 of Roses of Ruin

summary: abde tries to save his “friend” from her alleged kidnapped when things take a turn for the worse

pairing: abde ezzalzouli x reader

cw: physical violence involving weaponry, verbal abuse, kidnapping, bad breath, hospitals

wc: 4108

an: I have no idea how this fic even ended up going in this direction but I made it much tamer😭😭 also I completely forgot to say there were two parts oops

Abde sits on his couch, awaiting your text that will let him know when you reach home safely. He knows these days you had later nights, studying for finals and polishing all your essays, so you always texted him when you got home safely to assuage his worries.

So when he doesn’t get one that night, he knows something is up. At the very least if you’d forgotten he’d see you active on Twitter or Instagram where he’d then text you asking if you were home, to which you would reply yes with an apology for not texting him.

But that doesn’t happen. When even his DMs go unread, he immediately jumps up and grabs his keys, driving straight to your place.

When he sees the poster, his heart drops. The house is dark and there are no signs of anyone there but he just knows his worst fears have come true. Your secret admirer is a stalker, and he’s finally committing his endgame.

He takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down before trying to think of what he can do.

He searches the ground looking for something that might indicate where you were taken or who took you, like a business card or a fast food restaurant wrapper, when his eye catches on something…familiar.

No.

It can’t be.

A tiny Barcelona keychain, with one of the tiny chains broken.

There was only one place secure and isolated enough on a Tuesday night where one who knew the place would feel secure enough to take a kidnapped woman without fear of being discovered.

After all, that one little lesson from the security guards the boys had made them give was very useful, if one wanted to turn off the security systems, including any cameras and alarms.

He has a sinking feeling that you were right about one thing: you know who your secret admirer is.

And he is about to find out.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

You come to with a massive headache that throbs mostly on the right side of your head. The bright lights don't help either, as you struggle to open your eyes.

You try pressing your fingers against your head to relieve the pain, but you can't. Your hands are bound behind the chair you're sitting on, and it seems your legs are as well. The sudden severity of your situation jolts you fully awake, and you open your eyes to see the face of Pedri staring back at you with a coy smile on his lips, sitting on a chair across from you.

Close enough that you can smell his rancid breath. Did he always lack dental hygiene?

He taps a baseball bat on the floor, which you assume must have been the weapon he’d used to knock you out so efficiently. You feel yourself swallow in fear at the prospect of what else he could do with it.

His smile grows.

He does look a lot like Mr. Bean, which would’ve made you laugh in any other situation.

Instead, you want to cry. You should be safe at home, in your pajamas eating dinner, texting Abde, and watching a show. Instead, you’re tied to a chair by your supposed friend and secret admirer, who turned out to be someone you should never have trusted. And you want to cry because your secret admirer is not someone who was ever in love with you, and never would be.

You should’ve listened to what Abde had said. You cursed yourself for not telling him the truth of what this whole situation was spiralling into. You cursed yourself for not sharing your location with him, so he could keep an eye on you and find you if he needed to. Like right now.

But mostly, you cursed yourself for ever believing someone would love you, instead of fantasizing about a relationship as Abde had put it.

You turn your sight to the left, breaking eye contact with Pedri, when you see the pastry box from your doorstep sitting on the bench. The same box that waited for you many times each week, holding sweets that were now poisoned with fear.

You feel the tears threaten to well up, but you can’t allow yourself to show such weakness to Pedri, who now inches his chair even closer so your noses are almost touching.

You can’t help but jerk back, and he laughs. It had never sounded so dark before.

“A pretty little thing like you couldn’t be bothered with such a sight, now, could you?” He pouts a little before the smirk returns. “But I think you must be surprised by me. I know you thought your secret admirer might have been Lamine, but did you seriously think he would go through all that effort to show you he loves you? And besides, you and I both know he would’ve asked you out face-to-face, but of course, he never did. Because no one would ever truly love a bland degenerate like you.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek, which you try to turn away from, but he grips your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“But then Abde convinced himself he was in love with you, even though he would never admit it. But it was so obvious to me he only pitied you, even when the others thought he was truly in love.”

Pedri takes in your widened eyes and chuckles darkly. “Oh! But you had no idea, did you? You thought all those car rides, all those cafe outings, were because he was friends with you? No, because he thinks he’s in love with you, and everyone else thinks he’s too scared to admit it. But I know the truth,” his nails dig deep into your chin, “he only tolerates you. Do you think a man like him would want to be seen in a girly cafe? Or admit he listens to that white trash Taylor Swift? No, sweetheart, he only pities how painfully single you are. He doesn’t want you to be sad, like all you other insecure girls. He wants to make you think he’s happy spending time with you when really, he would rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than your annoying voice.”

He takes a deep breath from the rant, allowing you to take in his words. Was it true that Abde didn’t like you even as a friend? You knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of cafes or your music taste, but there was no way he’d “tolerate it” for so long, as Pedri had put it.

Or so you thought.

Pedri was one of Abde’s closest friends, so maybe he could tell when he didn’t want to be friends with someone.

Including you.

You felt your heart start to break as Pedri’s words really sunk in. It must’ve shown on your face, as Pedri cocks his head. “Oh, shit, now I pity you a little. Not even your beloved friend wants to be known that way, but oh well. It’s not like he cares enough to look to you, or care about what I’m about to do to you.”

Before you can even react, he kisses you roughly. You try to jerk back away from it, but Pedro’s still gripping your chin, ms it feel as if he’s now pierced the skin. His lips are rough and there’s no love behind the kiss.

“That would be your first and last ever kiss because I really do pity you. But you’re not gonna get the chance for another, because I’ve realized that as long as you live, Abde will have to tolerate your antics. Which also means he’ll spend less time with the people that truly love him, like me.” He smacks the bat against the floor, making you jump in your chair.

His grin makes your blood freeze in fear.

The first hit is hard against your shin.

You scream out in pain, but there’s no one around to hear you in the empty, isolated stadium. The pain only gets worse as it settles in, and Pedri laughs maniacally at the pleasure in your pain. He strikes again in the same spot, and your screams grow louder.

Tears well up as he hits your legs over and over and over again, switching between them, hitting the same spot multiple times before moving on, hitting the areas where it would hurt the most. Your futile screams and his laughter mix together in a frightening chorus, and you try to pray for a little relief, if not a saviour.

But in your already heavy heart, you knew no one would come looking for you. Even if there was someone who might have tried, there was no way for them to know where you were. The thoughts and the pain together are too much, and the tears finally fall as you hear bone cracking, the sound a massive roar in your ears.

It takes a second, but the pain suddenly drowns all your other senses, hiding your screams as it feels as if your legs are nothing more than shattered fragments.

The pain is so overwhelming, you don’t even notice when the bat stops hitting your body, when the horrid smell is replaced by something more homely, more familiar.

The hands that should’ve felt gentle felt like they were breaking you apart even more, and you let loose another wretched scream.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Abde must have broken about a hundred driving laws getting to Camp Nou, and he thanked God the streets were isolated enough for no one to call the police on him. He tries cursing you for getting home so late, for not doing your work at home, but instead curses himself for not being by your side, driving you home from campus and making sure you got home safely. What kind of friend was he? And what kind of lover would he make?

Ignoring the horrific parking job, he riches inside the stadium, thankfully being able to unlock the doors with his keycard even this late in the night.

He races through the inside of the stadium towards the locker rooms, when he hears an earth-shattering scream pierce through the otherwise unnerving silence. His heart breaks and he pushes himself to run even faster, as your screams grow louder and louder.

He finally reaches the locker room where you seem to be inside and tries pushing the door open. It was locked.

Of course, the key card works, and he easily opens the door, taking in the horrific scene playing out in front of him.

You, tied to a chair, limbs splayed out in all the wrong ways as Pedri paces slowly in front of you with his back to Abde, tapping a baseball bat against the floor.

Abde doesn't stop to think. He rushes at Pedri, taking him by surprise when he slams him against the locker with all his might and he drops the bat. Dazed, Pedri tries turning around to face his attacker, but Abde slams his head against the lockers again, knocking him out, and Abde rushes over to you.

He checks to see you’re still breathing although it is heavily laboured and his heart breaks at your whimpers of pain. He makes quick work of the restraints, doing his best to be careful not to hurt you further but you scream in pain, making him wince at the loudness.

He finally gets them all off of you and tries picking you up, but your screams almost shatter his eardrums as winces away from you.

He decides to go the less solo route and call an ambulance as well as the police, and waits in the now-quiet locker room, keeping an eye on both you and Pedri as your whimpers fill the air. He tries smoothing a hand over your back to help soothe your pain and waits for the telltale sound of sirens to come closer and closer.

Checking Pedri’s unconscious form one last time, he rushes out to the stadium entrance to greet the paramedics, leading them to your body and they gently but quickly carry you away on a stretcher. Abde tries to stay with you, but the paramedics brush him off, telling him they have to take you into surgery without any distractions, but he is more than welcome to visit you later on. And besides, he needs to tell the police his account of what occurred.

The rest of the night passes by in a blur.

Abde watches the ambulance leave, right when the police finally arrive. He’s quiet as he leads them to the locker room, where Pedri is still unconscious but has a paramedic checking his vitals. As they secure the scene, they take Abde’s initial report, before leading him to one of the cop cars so he can give an official statement at the station. In no time at all it seems, he is free to go, tired but still worried for you.

He wants to go to the hospital, but the cop, who was kind enough to call the hospital to check on your status, says you still have hours left of your surgery, and it would be better for the both of you if Abde went home, got some rest, then was able to be a fresh face for you to look at when you woke up.

Abde almost decided to spend the night at the hospital, but he knew you deserved to see him rested rather than tired, so he went home and took some melatonin pills to help him sleep a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he wakes up feeling groggy but refreshed, but with his heart heavy. His grogginess turns to alarm as he quickly checks the time, and remembers what happened last night. He’s ready and refreshed in no time, changing into a set of shorts and a t-shirt, washing his face and brushing his teeth, before rushing out. He stops by a bakery to pick up some freshly baked muffins for the both of you when he sees something colourful in the corner of his eye.

He turns around to see it’s a flower shop, the front sidewalk filled with arrays of fresh blooms, when he remembers something you once told him. “It’s not like you ever got me any”, you’d said to him in that one argument. He feels a wave of regret at that fact and decides that today is as good as any other day to change that. He just hoped you wouldn't see it as a pathetic attempt to pity you. He studies the different arrangements, trying to figure out which one to get you, when he suddenly remembers another memory.

You and Abde were walking in Barcelona after a glorious match against Atletico. Abde had scored two amazing goals, and assisted a third, giving them the 3 points they needed to stay well ahead of Real Madrid in the La Liga title race.

He was still on a high from the glory, made even better with you being able to travel to Madrid to attend the match, cheering him on while wearing his jersey, and him being able to squeeze you in a bone-crushing hug after the game ended rather than FaceTiming you later after the celebrations died down.

You were still wearing his jersey, and he had to fight a grin from showing, lest you see and threaten to take it off.

The Barcelona sunset was gorgeous, casting a beautiful pink glow over the city, as you took in the sights. It has been quite some time since you were able to walk city streets like this together and revel in the moment, content in each other’s company.

Abde glanced down at your swinging hand, longing to reach out and hold it, but stopped himself. You were gazing out at the bustling streets, taking in the street vendors, the children, and the delicious aromas of food wafting around, and he didn't want to spoil the mood for you.

But that turned out to be pointless because he felt you grab his hand a minute later, tugging on it with a little urgency.

“Abde, look!” he looked ahead to where you were pointing, at a pink cafe decorated with flowers, and looked down to see you looking at him inquiringly.

“That’s a really pretty cafe…” you trailed off, hoping he understood what you meant. Abde hesitated for just a second, not really wanting to celebrate his victory in a Barbie-type cafe, but he would do anything for you, so he squeezed your hand and led the way. He didn't see the pure joy on your face until you both sat down, you gazing at the beautiful interior of flowers and live hummingbirds flying around, and Abde gazing at you.

It was at this moment he realized. He was in love with you.

The treats were all so gorgeous, with cupcakes decorated with intricate icing designs, cheesecake slices that were swirled in different shades of pink and purple and blue, macarons of flavours you weren’t even aware were possible, puddings heaped with cream and fresh fruit, and scones that smelled like a baker’s heaven. You ordered a raspberry lemon cheesecake with pink lemonade, while Abde ordered a mango pudding topped with pineapple and coconut with a regular lemonade.

As you both ate, you pointed out the different types of flowers in the cafe. Of course, Abde knew the basic ones, like roses, tulips, and daisies, but he was surprised to learn just how many variations of each there were, and how much knowledge you had of them.

“See those pink lilies with white outlines on the petals? Those are called stargazer lilies, and they attract a lot of butterflies- look at that one! See?” A monarch butterfly landed on one, its wings fluttering lazily. Ade looked back to see your eyes shining with delight at a pretty piece of nature.

You looked back at him before pointing out a different lily, this one completely pink. “That one’s called an Acapulco lily; they’re commonly used in bouquets and gardens.” You smile as Abde’s gaze never leaves your face.

“Lilies are my favourite flower. They’re just, I don't know, so unique. Some of them are those pink colours, some are orange like the tiger lily. That’s one of my favourite types because it’s so bold.” You paused, blushing a little. “It kind of reminds me of you.”

Abde felt his breath hitch, but you hurried on before he could respond. “The pink ones are my favourites of course. Although the white Casablanca lilies are used in weddings, so maybe I’ll use them too!” You smile a the thought of your wedding, before looking back at Abde. “Keep this in mind for your future wife, she’ll love to know you know so much.”

Abde’s smile froze. What on Earth did you mean his future wife? Did you not want her to be you? Did you not want to be with Abde?

If Abde would place one moment where he knew he could never confess his feelings for you, it would be here.

The pink and the flowers suddenly made him sick to his stomach, and he excused himself to go to the bathroom and throw up the sickeningly sweet pudding.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

He snaps out of it when he notices a small flurry of movement. A monarch butterfly, just like the one in the cafe, landing on a pink lily with a white outline. Abde stares for a moment, before realizing it had led him to the perfect bouquet.

It has the pink lilies you said attracted butterflies, although he can not for the life of him remember the name. Aca-ava-avocado? Nevermind. The arrangement also consisted of pink and white roses and white tulips; it was perfect. He buys it quickly, before rushing back to his car and speeding to the hospital. He’s wasted enough time already; it was now time to pay you a long-awaited visit.

The hospital is a hive of bustling activity. Three nurses congregate near the reception desk, heads bent down over a clipboard, while another rushes by, carrying some medications. There are a couple of young children playing in a corner with a toy train with their tired mother looking after them, and the whole area is filled with chatter and beeping.

Abde walks up to the reception desk where a woman in light blue scrubs is typing something on her computer and gives a little cough.

She looks up inquiringly at Abde, who’s gripping the bouquet tightly. “I’m here to see y/n l/n, she came in yesterday.” The nurse types something on her computer before turning back to him, eyes suddenly soft and pitiful.

“She’s still in recovery, so we’re not letting any visitors in except for family.” Abde’s face drops, but before he can stammer out some excuse of being your relative in some way, she speaks again.

“Unless you are Abdessamad Ezzalzouli,” she sounds the name out slowly as she struggles to pronounce the long arrangement of letters, “in which case you are the noted exception.” Abde nods vigorously, reaching for his wallet with his ID. The nurse raises her eyebrow as he struggles to take out his driver’s license with one hand, but one look at the card and she’s passing him a clipboard.

“Time in is 9:27. Sign here.” She taps one of the columns before returning to her work on the computer as Abde quickly writes the time in and signs his name, before using the clipboard back. She barely gives him another look as she tells him the room number and direction, and he’s practically sprinting down the hallway toward your room, nearly crashing into a nurse on the way.

He stops outside the room, where he can see your mother sitting by your bedside through the window. He knocks once, before opening the door, suddenly nervous at the prospect of seeing you in the aftermath.

It’s a horrific sight. Your legs are both in lifted casts, almost all the way up to your hips, tenderly placed to avoid a disturbance in blood circulation. Your face is bruised and swollen, already dark purple in the places where Pedri had made contact with you.

Abde wants to cry.

He tears his gaze from you to your mother, who looks at him with red eyes and a tear-streaked face. She looks horrible, as if she hasn't slept for days. He finds an empty vase tucked away on a shelf, behind a couple of half-empty glasses filled with water, and he gets a strange sense of deja vu that sends him into a sort of haze.

He doesn't remember placing the lilies on the shelf top, bringing his arms around your mother to comfort her, or even taking her home to get her to rest with the promise that he would look after you. He doesn’t remember the fast drive back, or if he signed in again, just your broken body fighting for life. He doesn't remember the doctors telling him they placed you in a medical coma to save your mind from the painful healing process.

It’s the same routine every day. Wake up after the horrific nightmare of watching you get tortured to death and Pedri carry your broken body to dump it in some hidden place because this time he couldn't save you, cook something that could pass off as food to bring to your parents at your bedside, and stay by your side for hours, even with no updates on your condition.

There was never a dying lily in that flower vase; Abde kept it well-stocked with fresh pink ones every day.

3 weeks later, he doesn't see the new scribble on the clipboard attached to your bed. The new ones. Signed by the lead doctor, saying they were going to take you out of your coma to analyze your brain activity.

What he does notice is the fresh pink lilies in the vase. He hadn't been able to replace them for the past few days, but today he brought some, albeit pure white as the flower vendor had said they had run out of the pink ones for the time being because Abde bought most of the stock.

He placed his bouquet down on the bedside table, before taking his usual place next to your bed, and squeezed your hand.

“I’m here, love. Come back to me, please.”

He almost missed your hand squeezing back.

His tears did not.

#abde ezzalzouli #morocco #football #football fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ez abde #abde ezzalzouli x reader #football imagine #pedri #hospital

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angelofthenight · 2 years

Text

Last Man Alive Pt.16

(Dano!Riddler x Reader)

(Link to list of chapters)

Warnings: Edward is a yandere, Dark themes, Second half is a flashback from YN’s POV, YN kind of has an ignorant philosophy about psychopaths and morality

Word Count: 2.3k

Shortly after the licked flick of the Riddler’s tongue against (Y/n)’s lips, a bang was heard in the distance; echoing up to the two. For the first time that night, a small smile tugged upwards on (Y/n)’s saliva coated lips. She wanted to smugly smirk at the Riddler for his failure to keep her but her smile shrunk from the uneasiness when she noticed he wasn’t shocked or angry at all. His eyes and mouth looked… a mix of disappointment and annoyance.

He sighed. “I was hoping we’d have a little more time together before they came for me but.. oh well.” He turned his head back to her. “Talk about a cock block.” He said with a giggle but her face remained stoic, not finding it funny at all.

The sound of quick footsteps got louder and louder until the big doors of the room they were in were kicked open by Bruce in his Batman costume, Gordon behind him with his gun aimed up in defensive mode. A big group of police fled into the room in front of Batman and Gordon with their guns aimed at the Riddler. “Police! Hands up!” “Step away from the girl, you son of a bitch!”

(Y/n) wondered if this feeling was what people felt when they met angels.

The Riddler stared at them before he raised both his hands up at a teasingly slow rate. The police surrounded and roughly grabbed onto his jacket as Batman rushed over to (Y/n) to cut the duct tape off her wrists and ankles. She smiled hugely, happy tears replacing the stained phobic tears on her pink cheeks. Once all her limbs were free to move, she swung her arms around Batman’s neck and shoulders, despite her arms aching in pain.

She pulled him towards her for an embrace as his head rested on the crook of her neck, her muttering grateful and thankful phrases. It honestly broke Bruce’s heart over how overwhelmingly happy she was to be saved, she didn’t have any injuries so whatever went on between her and Riddler must’ve been worse than being struck to her.

His big arms returned the close hug, murmuring an “I’m so sorry I left”. He felt so guilty, thinking back and beating himself up over not bringing (Y/n) with him to talk to Falcone. She would’ve been safer in the car than in the big manor you could get lost in. He could’ve gotten Selina to look after her for an hour or two. So many regrets bruised his brain.

“I don’t blame you at all, please know that.” She whispered back. The two departed from the hug and Batman helped her to her feet, using himself as support for her. She walked around the group of cops that circled the Riddler, she couldn’t see, only hearing them rip off his mask and shoving him against the pillar.

This was it. (Y/n) found a window between two cops to get the perfect view. This was it. She could finally see the monster behind the mask that had officially made her life a nightmarish hell. The psychopath that spilled the blood of whoever she was close to. The serial killer that swore they were soulmates. This was it. This was the person to blame.

Her eyes set on the man being forced against the pillar, one lense in his glasses slowly cracking. His face was turned in her direction. As their eyes met, a terrifying realization caused her heart to drop to her stomach. She knew him. A bitter realization as her breathing both halted and grew more unstable.

She knew him, she knew him, she knew him, tears cascading at the fact, she knew him.

She didn’t know him well, but they’d had two friendly interactions about over a year ago.

Her face was frozen in shock and fear; heartbreak. That coy, awkward, nice man she met at the bus stop was the mastermind behind all of the murders and secured the title as her stalker and self-proclaimed soulmate. The man she briefly conversed with was the one who killed her boyfriend, best friend, ex-boyfriend, and other people that he considered to be rivals for her affection and attention. She almost couldn’t believe this was real life, like she was just watching a movie with something she thought she’d never have to worry about.

A pink blush faded onto the Riddler’s cheeks as he looked at (Y/n), a small spreading his lips across his face. He stared at her intimately, like they were the only ones in the room. It scared her, she knew deep down that he was hiding another trick up his sleeve, especially since it seemed he planned to be arrested.

His bedroom eyes were blocked when one of the cops took his wallet and opened it to reveal two different I.D’s. “Which one is you?” The Riddler giddily giggled, still in his lovesick state. “You tell me~”

(Y/n) felt a shiver run down her spine now that she got to hear his clear voice and link it to a face now. “Let’s go pencil-neck.” The cop growled before they harshly pulled him out of the big room. Gordon softly approached (Y/n) and asked her if she was okay and that when she was ready she’d be questioned before telling her that a witness leaked his address claiming he was a “suspicious figure”.

She silently nodded, not paying much attention to him as her eyes were focused on the doors. A few seconds passed until she turned to Batman who was standing beside her, waiting till she was ready to follow the cops to the location. She looked at him with dread swimming through the dry tears in her eyes.

“I know him.”

(Y/n)’s eyes were focused down on the inked pages of the thick book resting in her hand as she strolled through the sidewalk of the fresh morning in Gotham City. Her other hand held her daily cup of coffee from her favorite coffee shop, all of the workers knew her order by heart due to her daily visits. Using her women’s instinct and peripheral vision, she made sure to not bump into any of her fellow walkers as she read.

She knew she was about to pass a man waiting at the bus stop and didn’t think anything of it until he turned at the same exact second she was about to pass him. Their bodies collided which sent them both to the ground from the impact. They both groaned on the ground before (Y/n) looked up at the tall, lanky man across from her. She lightly gasped, guilty shame flushing her face. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were going to turn! Are you okay?”

His face furrowed into a glare but his eyes softened when he looked up before avoiding eye contact, nodding to her question as he fixed his clear glasses. She noticed he had a briefcase, pen and folded newspaper that fell on the ground alongside him so she quickly picked it up for him. She noticed the newspaper was folded to the crossword puzzle page, all of them filled up.

She smiled as she stood up with both hers and his stuff in her arms, him rising at the same time as her. “You like crossword puzzles?” She asked with a friendly demeanor as she handed him his briefcase first then his pen and paper. He nodded shyly before turning to sit at the bench.

She wasn’t an extrovert at all but she was a natural social butterfly, constantly feeling the need to have kind interactions with everyone for the chance it might brighten their day. It was in her nature, so she went to take a seat next to him with a cheery smile. “That’s cool, I’m not very good with any kind of puzzle or brain teaser.” She explained with a chuckle. The man’s eyes slightly perked up in interest. “What about riddles?” He asked quietly, still very bashful.

(Y/n)’s smile widened, “Oh my god, I’m terrible at riddles, it’s almost embarrassing. I can barely get the ones made for kids!” Suddenly the man blurt out a riddle, “I can break, I can be given, I can be kept, I can be crushed yet I can be whole at the same time. What am I?”

“Ummm…” She bit her lip in thought. “Give me a minute, let’s see… is it a heart?” She asked with a head tilt. The man smiled big. “See? You’re not that bad. How about, what disappears as soon as you say its name?” (Y/n) made a confused face at the riddle. “What the hell…?” She whispered to herself before pursing her lips to think. “Um… god, that’s a stumper. I have no idea.” She gave up with a playful shrug.

“Silence.” He answered, which made her jaw drop dramatically. “You’re kidding!” He smiled and shook his head, a faint light laugh in the back of his throat. “Nope.” Her eyebrows knit together. “How does that make sense though?”

“The silence is broken because you said something.” He explained softly, his stiff composure softening and relaxing. “Oooooh, that makes sense.” She sighed and leaned her back against the bench. “Man, I bet you were the smartest kid in all your classes. I’m not saying that because of the glasses but you just seem like it.” He shrugged. “I do like to believe I’m above average in intelligence.”

(Y/n) sat straight again, leaning towards him a little bit with encouragement. “Yes, flaunt it! The world is so lucky because if I was smart I’d be way too powerful, that’s why I was made so average, for everyone else’s safety.”

“I don’t think you’re average.” He said softly, finally making eye contact. (Y/n)’s smile was bashful as her fingers twiddled together, she liked getting compliments from strangers. “Really?” “I mean, your clothing isn’t average.” He added, glancing down at her clothes.

She looked down at her outfit. “I’d hope it’s not average, I actually made everything I’m wearing.” She said softly with a glance to the floor and a light pink flush of flusteredness crossing her cheeks briefly, like she was embarrassed to admit it. The man’s lips parted and his eyes widened behind his glasses. “You made this?” He analyzed the stitching on her top. “Your craftsmanship and needle work are very impressive.”

“Aw thank you!” She gushed with blissful giddiness. “I’ve been sewing ever since freshman year in highschool.” He nodded, his eyes looked over the stitching on her top. His eyes lingered on her chest but before her eyebrows could knit together he pointed down at the thick book in her lap. “May I ask what book you’re reading.”

“Oh,” she lifted it up with the cover facing the msn, “the Study Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. It’s for a project for this Philosophy course I’m taking.” “What’s the purpose of the project?”

“We were supposed to pick a book we’ve never read before about a fact about humans that’s overlooked and write an essay about the philosophy. Jekyll and Hyde is about the moral duality of humans so I plan to write about how we’re all equally capable of doing bad and good things, but what matters behind it is our motive’s.” (Y/n) explained, touching her book. The man tilted his head, “Elaborate on that.”

(Y/n) moved her hand through the air to explain the thing that made better sense in her head. “Like sometimes people do bad things with good motives and I think our motive is what truly defines our morality.” “But isn’t that just a psychopath? They’re convinced the bad things they do are right.” The man questioned.

“I mean… true. But they still want to do the right thing so I think that’s not beyond psychological help, so deep down they are good people but just in their own way.” The man hummed, slowly nodding with a small smile quirking up the corners of his thin lips. “I’ve never met anyone with that opinion.”

She foxily smiled and held her hands up like she was presenting herself. “Well now you have.” The man smiled wider, his cheeks turning red. (Y/n) noticed this and hoped it was just from nervousness and not attraction, she felt bad over the thought that she might’ve given him the wrong idea. She still kept her smile on though, not wanting to be rude as the man seemed to really enjoy talking to her. But she began to get a little uncomfortable when he didn’t respond and just stared at her with a smile. She needed to get out of this situation, quick.

It was as if the Gods had answered her prayers and saved her when the public bus loudly halted at the sign and the doors swung open with an annoying screech. (Y/n) took this as her chance to finally leave. “Well, this must be your ride.” She stood up with her book and coffee. It looked like he was about to say something so she immediately cut him off, not wanting to give him the opening to ask for her phone number. “It was nice talking to you, have a good day!” She said quickly and began walking down the sidewalk with hurried steps, regretting being a little too friendly with the stranger.

She told herself to not regret it. She was just being nice to a stranger in need, it was her natural instinct. She ignored her woman's instinct that told there was something… off about him and convinced herself to not be rude.

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