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fantasy-relax · 3 months

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Cassandra

You feel that your fighting scenes are lacking so after playing with the children you go to the training grounds for inspiration. The middle daughter is quick to notice your presence.

"Want to see if you could enter? Oh mighty alpha! "

"No, I done fighting"

"done with it?"

She is interrupted by the trainer but her curiosity is touched. At the end she search for you and there you are sitting on the grass, writing and erasing in your journal. Before she can get close one of the male alpha apprentice get first, the talk starts tame but then she hear the mockery and insults to you, she interrupts with her temper barely contained.

"of course this pathetic alpha need the help of the weird omega!"

Her temper is flaring but before she could respond you do it without looking.

"of course this weird omega kick the ass of the stupid alpha talking shit, you should go to the medic I think your head is fucked up after that beating, or are you that imbecile?"

"you motherfucke-"

"if she have your face not thanks"

"Im gonna-"

"cry? Get lost before I make you eat dirt again"

The boy is gone cursing you, you get up and start walking, the brunette follows you.

"if you could defend yourself you should have done it"

"I don't give a shit about what he was saying I was tuning him out until you came"

" he will want revenge"

"Then I will talk with the captain, if he is like that as apprentice how he will be as a knight?"

"snitch"

"smart"

"you should have punch him"

" I told you, I'm done with fighting"

"what do you mean by done with fighting?"

"that I done with fighting"

"hahaha you are soo funny, you are a alpha! You should be aggressive and savage, not a coward hiding in the corner!"

"*sigh* my lady I am a orphan, since I can remember I been fighting for food, for attention, for my life. I don't wish to fight, I can, I can fight like a rat trapped in a bucket with coal but if I don't need then I will rest, I deserve to rest.

You walk away and she let's you go, she can say anything about that, after all the woman that birthed her only give them enough food to not die and even then is was too little for the three, Bela will give up her portion most of the time to feed Dani and her; beatings and insults were pretty common too, shit they not even known how to talk. They only understood pain, hunger and hate until mother adopted them and showed them about love, trust and safety.

So how can she shame you for searching peace when thats all what she wants for her family?

The next time she sits with you after her practice:

" how are you doing oh talented writer!"

" I think I getting there"

You show her your writing

"nah, this is not what a knight or swordman do"

That's the routine for Cassandra and you, some days both of you will be in the grounds, you will make a scene and she will show you how a fight like that will go. You write a lot more of action scenes and the children are amazed (Cassandra stand up proud of herself in the back when her schedule allow her) her sisters roll their eyes laughing softly.

The moment that she know that she is in love:

Is after a tournament, she was so close to win but she lost her balance in the last moment, she still receives ovation and praise because she was the youngest participant and the only omega, but in her way to the backroom she hears it.

"oh she kick your ass!"

"dude I not gonna fight with a omega girl"

"yeah I was soft too with her"

"this is only temporary, a fancy thing, she will understand that she is not built for this."

"really, omegas only are good for breeding"

She sees red.

The next thing she knows is that she is in the arms of her Mom, her body hurts a lot more there is lot of blood too, in her hands (sharper now), in her face, in her teeth. She is forbidden to participate in more tournaments until she is 18 (she should be banned for life but you know, privilege) her mother scolds her for hours (alcina make sure that the boys suffer from misfortune too) and she is forbidden for practice too at last for a month, she stays in her room and she eats there, her sisters and mom leave her alone. Mia talk to her through the door if she wants to play fight but Cassandra says no, so she let's her be.

You go to see her but she screams at you, the third time that you go, you hear her crying so you opened the door (pick the lock) and enter. She looks at you with wild eyes and when she recognized you she scream at you to go away. You sit slowly in the floor with your hands were she can see.

"what do you feel?"

"WHAT THE FUCK YOU THINK I FEEL!"

"I don't know that's why I asking"

"IM A ANGRY"

"at who?"

"AT THEM"

"who Is them?"

"The stupid alphas, the stupid manthings, the stupid people that think of me as weak, I'm not weak"

"you are not"

" I train hard, I work hard, Im not some stupid girl that doesn't know the world! When my punishment ends I will show them!"

"show them what?"

" that I'm stronger than them"

"that will satisfy you?"

"of course"

"you value more what the stupid alphas, the stupid manthings, the stupid people are saying that what your family says?

"I don't-"

"you do, Cassandra what do you think about you?"

" I- I'm"

"...breath slowly, inside,1, 2,3 4 outside 1 2,3 4"

" I work hard"

"you are hardworking"

"I'm good with the sword"

"you are skilled"

"I'm protective"

" you are protective"

"I'm strong"

"you are strong"

"I'm an omega"

"you are one"

"I'm me"

"you are"

Silence reigns for a few seconds before you talk again.

"Scared people will try to make other afraid too, insecure people will try to make others insecure, they will talk and talk and talk, give them a inch a power over you and then you are trapped in their miserable world too"

"..."

She gets close to you.

" did you know what I did to them? "

"yes"

"I'm a wild child, I can go feral at the drop of a hat, I'm slipping right now"

"Feral not mean violent, means that instinct is governing your mind, and instinct is not all about violence, so I think I will be fine."

She drops in your arms and you hug her, she feels a lot smaller like that. You hear her purring softly and feels her move slowly, she is scenting you let her be just answering with your own purr.

Both of you fall asleep like that, she is the first to wake up and she sees your face drool on your cheek and your arm around her and it hits her harder than any punch, she wants this, you shielding her from the cruel world but letting her fight back just to rest in your arms, like her mother and mom do. You will never have to fight again she will fight for you, you just need to rest.

After you wake up, you check on her after seeing that she is better you stand up.

"do want to help me with some scenes? I can't seem to found the angle"

"With pleasure"

She talks with her sisters, they are happy for her but they are worried about you using her: Bela make a full background of you and Daniela subtly interrogate you. After concluding that you are safe they talk about the middle sister more when they pass time with you.

Bela talk about the bravery of Cass, how she was the one ready to throw hands on anybody, not matter the difficulty. Her honesty and how she never brokes her promises. Truly will be a wonderful knight, truly will be a wonderful partner.

Daniela will talk about how Cass is a softy, really, always buying little trinkets just because remind her of them, how she Is the best storyteller because she actually is very sensitive , if Bela don't stop her Cass will have spoiled her rotten. She is a protector no harm will come to them as long as Cassandra is there. She is a caring sister and she will be a loving mother.

Cassandra will be a amazing wife and mate, don't you agree?

#resident evil village #Au #Re8 #cassandra dimitrescu #Omegaverse

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finniestoncrane · 2 years

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28. Arkham Riddler! "Tell me you love me." He's had it with hero!readers shit and getting pissed off. TELL HIM YOU LOVE HIM BEFORE HE POPS OFF AND BLOWS UP THE CITY OR SOMETHING.

ok omg this one was hard because i honestly can't imagine having to be forced to tell arkham!ed that i love him, it would be harder for him to get me to stop because he is baby (also ty ily omg vanity my bb pls everyone stop reading my trash and go read hers)

Tell Me You Love Me, Arkham!Riddler x Hero!Reader, word count: 688 (just a lil ficlet, a baby if you will)

request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 sfw, no big warnings

“You have…” you watched as the Riddler, standing in front of you on the roof of the apartment building you were on, checked his watch. “…just over three minutes to say it.”

“Well then, we’ll die together in three minutes and take a lot of innocent people with us.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the hero?” He chuckled lightly, scoffing at your callous attitude.

“I suppose… but you’ve underestimated just how strongly I dislike you.”

“Oh, you’re seriously testing my patience! How hard could it be to just admit it!?”

“Because I’m not willing to lie in order to inflate your ego.”

Ed raised an eyebrow at you, his face screaming ‘seriously?’. You took a moment to reflect as the timer he held ticked down with irritating, pulsing little beeps. Of every villain you had encountered so far in your desperate bid to at least chisel away at Gotham’s crusted layer of crime and tragedy, from a low level thief to extravagantly dangerous rogues, Edward Nygma had so far proved to be the worst. Not in action or methods, far from it actually. He was handsome, oddly muscular and with a unique and intriguing smile. Charming, somehow, beyond his grating need to turn everything into a puzzle, a challenge. And his irritating self-confidence and boastful nature only inspired some awkward feelings of reverence and a desire for him to pat you on the head and tell you that you were clever for finally catching him.

“Time’s ticking! Are you ready to admit I was right yet? I mean, I always am. I’m The Riddler for God’s sake.”

“I can’t! It’s not my job. It’s the antithesis of it, actually.”

“Oh, what a fancy word! I’m surprised that someone dumb enough to let themselves and hundreds of others die in a horrific explosion would have been too stupid to know what that meant.”

You scowled at him, but he offered a softer smile than usual in return. There was no unpleasant undertones of mockery or self-importance. It was sincere.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to admit it. But then again, you’d be the laughing stock of the city, never trusted again among your peers. What kind of hero falls for the villain? A weak one. One that can’t be trusted to do their job right. But if they knew him like you did. If they’d spent the time you had learning about him, conversing with him, basking in his charm, his humour, and his intelligence. Would they understand a bit better? Or, more likely, would they come to the conclusion that he was in fact more of a nuisance than they originally though and come after you both with fire and pitchforks.

“Listen, Riddler…Eddie. I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“No, you can. You shouldn’t, maybe. But that’s a whole other matter. You know I’m right.”

“Even if you did, I doubt much good would come of it.”

“Ah, that’s a risk we take though. And what is life without some risks, some challenges?”

You looked at him, deep into his eyes for the right answer, since he seemed to always have it.

“Time’s almost up. Just say it. Stop trying to play games with me, to best me. I know it, and I know that somewhere in that silly little brain of yours you know it too. It’s impossible to miss the signs, and I’m growing tired of your attempts at ignoring them, and me. Now quickly. Tell me you love me.”

You watched as the timer ticked down, quicker than seconds usually passed, six, five, four, three…

“I love you!”

He didn’t move, and the timer continued. You squeezed a few more out in the last remaining seconds of your life and his, and the hundreds below you in their beds or watching tv, blissfully unaware.

“Ed! I love you! I love you! I LOVE YOU!”

Zero.

Nothing.

You opened your eyes, which had instinctively but uselessly scrunched close to protect themselves from the blast. Ed was smiling at you, a smug, self-satisfied grin spread across his face.

“I knew it. I’m right. I’m always right.”

#finnie writes #coming in clutch with the content today fellas #arkham #arkham riddler #arkham!riddler #arkhamverse #batman #riddler #the riddler #riddler x reader #riddler fanfic #the riddler fanfic #the riddler fanfiction #riddler x you #the riddler imagine #q

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cyanlastride · 3 months

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can i tell you a story? for my own good, not yours. you have no obligation to listen.

im warning you now, its an unpleasant one.

the summer before grade 10, i made the best choice of my life. i was feeling a bit lonely, and inspired by my dad to try playing D&D. finding myself lacking real-life friends -- it was the summer, you see, the most barren and socially isolating time of the year, beating even christmas break -- i took to Roll20, an online forum where people meet and start TTRPG groups, dnd5e being chief among them. now, i grew up very closely to the internet. club penguin, nexuiz/xonotic, planeshift, i grew up socializing with people online quite often. but internet forums, even as dull as reddit, werent really my thing. hell, i only got this tumblr account recently. so, making the spur of the moment decision to make a roll20 account and reply to an LFG for new players was really quite a leap for me. a complete shot in the dark.

but it paid off. we had a bit of a rocky start after our first GM ran off never to be seen again, but one of the players stepped up to be our new GM and we played almost every week for almost a year and a half. i forged a strong bond with both the players and the characters -- at the time, i didnt really distinguish between the two. we had some close calls, a lot of near misses, and my character even died once. our party had two paladins, and i was one of them, so resurrection wasnt too big of a deal. eventually, though, we bite off more than we could chew, and land in some pretty hot water. specifically, an underground church full of rats. how we ended up there and the mighty battle that took place are wonderful and thrilling stories for another day. we had to stop the session mid-battle, i dont remember why, but we picked it up the week after. when we came back, we were prepared to fight to the last. if either myself or the other paladin survived, we could resurrect the party with the diamonds on the iron band i had forged around my wrist. if any of the other party members survived, they could bring the bodies up to the surface and get help. we just had to win the fight.

now, being a new player playing pretty much a pre-gen'd paladin, i went the standard plate armour plus sword and board. this made my AC suuuper high, enough that enemies could only really hit me on a roll of 18+. also, if they rolled a nat 20 against me, i had a magic shield that would absorb some of the blow and actually heal myself and my allies for a couple turns. so the only way they can actually hurt me reliably is if they rolled 18 or 19. i was facing off against some random rogue that i didnt know and didnt care to know. if i landed one solid hit on this lady, i could smite her into oblivion. she was a goon, basically.

a goon that rolled three 19s in a row.

a goon that killed me, and any chance i had of saving my friends.

rolling an 18 or a 19 on a 20 sided die is 1/10. rolling three in a row is (1/10)^3, or 1/1000. one in a thousand. that sounds small, right?

fate and chance make mockeries of our lives more often than anyone cares to admit.

we kept playing after that, made new characters, but the loss was real. that probably sounds stupid, especially to people that have had real people close to them die, but to me, my closest friends of the past year were gone because of a stupid chance.

ive taken small risks more seriously since then. i dont drive, and i stare drivers in the eye when i cross the street. im not scared of dying, but i want to see it coming.

when covid started, i spent a lot of time staring death in the face.

not my own death. i was/am unlikely to die from covid. i barely even go outside enough to be at risk of catching a cold. im young, and im healthy.

my parents are older, and less healthy. my mom is a highschool teacher.

ive spent the last 4 years thinking every so often about what i would do if they died. ive treated it as a real possibility that something could happen to them. ive been mentally preparing myself. even now that we're mostly out of the covid danger zone, that preparation remains.

i never considered what might happen if only one of them fell ill. when my dad messaged me that my mom was going into emergency surgery, i could handle that. when my mom was moved into the ICU, i was glad. she is getting the care she needs from experts and professionals, and shes doing okay.

when we get the call that my dad's father, who lives in a resthome in another city, hasnt been seen in two days and that the ambulance just drove away without loading anyone in the back, i can handle that. to be honest i really didnt know my pappa that well.

when my dad, my stoic old dad, breaks into tears after starting the sentence "they can't both die..."

thats harder.

one in a thousand.

its not as small as you think it is.

thank you for listening. my mom, my dad, myself, we're going to be okay.

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megacandy420 · 1 year

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War Of The Dumb Hedgehogs 2022

[Ash]

Alright, let’s do this!

Here’s my case:

You claim my clients are a vicious race

Your Honor, you’ll find they’re not so insidious

But just a group of lovable idiots

[Lawyer Big]

Hold it!

Don’t give me your lecture

Your argument here is pure conjecture

The defendants are vile and no doubt insane

They’re small leeches who’ll bring a world of pain

[May]

No, that’s wrong!

We fulfill dreams

We bring a smile with the magic of memes

It’s all about love with our wholesome show

Where you can be assaulted by the Teletubby Po

[Sonic]

Okay, sometimes we break the law

But that’s an insignificant little flaw

Our mission is to laugh, enjoy, and inspire

Just ignore the things that we set on fire

[Lawyer Big]

Heh, this is the end, it seems

‘Cause your team’s flimsy schemes are through

Your antics are too extreme

[Ash]

Objection!

Violence, separation

Non-negotiation

Is this segregation peace for our nation?

[May]

You guys bring peace?

Don’t give me that crock

Sure, you can talk the talk

But can you walk the walk?

[Sonic]

Our only crimes?

We saved the Earth a buncha times

[Ash]

From eldritch incantations

Greedy expectations

Hate, love, and rejection

O-O-Objection!

[Lawyer Big]

Don’t get cocky, you haven’t won yet

I haven’t even broken a sweat

You’ll be banned just as planned

Witnesses to the stand!

[Tails]

You make us look so stupid and dense

None of what we do makes any sense

[Frisk]

So what?

It’s about having tons of fun

Your neutral special can be a gun!

[Duckman]

Bro, your vids aren’t even funny

I bet you’re doing this all for the money

[Sam]

Shut up! No one asked for your opinion

L, plus ratio, plus you look like a minion!

[Bessy]

I’m sorry, but I got a confession

All your arcs always give me depression

[Koko]

It’s okay, we may woe

But we develop love and grow

[Clara]

Ugh, can you guys please stop persisting?

It’s hard enough already existing

[Ash]

Alright, you’ve heard their plea

They’re innocent, so if you please

Let them all go free!

[Lawyer Big]

Objection!

Time to stop this persistent sinning

I’ve been winning from the very beginning

It’s no use with your whinging and cringing

‘Cause the use of Sonic is copyright infringing!

[May]

No!

Please, I don’t wanna be exiled!

I was just a naive, stupid little child

[Tails as Walter White]

Oh, sir, you deserve this mockery

Can’t be original or high quality

[Lawyer Big]

Here, we sentence you for robbery

Of our intellectual property

[Ash]

Objection!

Halt with your elation

And your litigations

Parody citation

Refutes these actions

Fair use states a parody of a style

Can hold water within a courtroom trial

[May]

Our Sonic’s all silly and dull

IP robbery is therefore null

[Ash]

Stupid imitations

Fun exaggerations

Proving their protection

O-O-Objection!

[Sonic]

Whatcha gonna do?

I’m not your hero

I’m just a dumbass with an IQ of zero!

[All]

There's no escape, you dumb ape!

[Lawyer Big]

Wait, no, you can’t possibly agree!

These three don’t even have a degree

[May]

Whoops, sorry, time’s up, ya clown

It’s time for the judge to hand a verdict down

[Judge Snap]

I gotta thank you all

Now I clearly see

I, Judge Snap, hereby decree

That I find the defendants to be

Not Guilty!

#my ocs #sonic the hedgehog #smg4 #recast

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bornnottodie · 2 years

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on bravado

I've been asked about my greatest strength - life without hesitation, striding forward with my nose high and straight front, eyes open when closed.

"It is not an employable strength," I've told them, with this little smile of planned disappointment. "You won't find much use for my hotheadedness..."

I was ready to leave, turn around, asking myself why could I have expected a decent result from this conversation? When they stopped me: why would you consider confidence unemployable? So I told them "Bravado accompanies my step. A flaw to a virtue. Yin and yang. And I can't seem to get rid of it."

And so they told me the story of General Mai, 1770.

"Mai wouldn't have made it if he was hesitant. If he was modest. He would have vanished in the dismissal perpetuated by British whito-centrism in the years of Enlightenment. But he was boastful, and loud, never hesitant. First Pacific Islander to step on this land! We have his likeness, however oppressive society may have been to him. We have his image because he sailed out. Because he was not afraid of the uncharted land. And we know him because of the same traits you find shame in."

Back home I laid myself a blanket, a fort of thought, and I pondered about Mai. I also thought of Cook who took him and questioned whether the coloniser saw Mai as exceptional or simply as yet another trophy in his conquest box. Because I'm not sure it is bravado that let him be remembered. Do you remember Emma Hart, William Hamilton's wife? She was bold as well, but she was a woman first, and women tend to be forgotten. Only her modelling remains. So was my trait to be celebrated or criticised?

The next time I went to see them, I said "I am not smart but I speak loud enough so people think I am." Was this employable? "People want a leader and although I'm not a very good - or bright - one, I've noticed bravado inspires trust and perhaps confidence so I use my shitty boastful impulses to attract people and to assure them that investing in me is a sensible decision. I am loud, I gallop fastest, and I take decisions proudly, inspiring people to place their bets on me. I'm the winning race horse that knows it is in the lead."

They looked at me in delight the way a child looks at their Christmas presents hidden behind the clothes rack of their mum's closet or the way a middle-aged man going through a crisis looks at the Ferrarorchgini car they bought by selling their family house in parts - because fuck the house, and fuck the wait and fuck the others involved, because I am the stallion galloping towards the finish line and I will win and they will soon own me and tah-dunk tah-dunk ladies and gents the winner is this stupid fucking horse that is just so self-assured!

"And who told you bravado was not a virtue?" They asked, testy.

"Has being the palace jester ever been one?"

"As long as I sit on the throne, you're my best advisor." A cunny smile.

Did I begin my road to mockery? The road Mai took when his sacred tattoos were exhibited and studied, the road Emma drove on her way to being passed from one man to another?

Being boisterous and bold has never saved a losing dog from being shot, stomped on, and forgotten. If my bravado gave me life, it will take it too, no doubt. A throne burns and suddenly the jester finds himself hung, the woman disgraced, the foreigner exiled. They say "if you are not clever, be loud" but voice will age, and body will age, and confidence and boldness and all of that lack of shame will get old, and you will be the losing dog.

Is bravado a blessing or a source of regret? How much can you say in bold and never italic and never parenthesis and never in simple words with no typography no standouts no nothing at all? It looks fun [strains the eye]! It grabs you [exhausts you]! Isn't it just so delightful [I would never spend my money on a text so poorly formatted]! You love bold letters [fuck you.]!

Bravado, a friend of silence and enemy of self-respect! It gives and it takes, and it takes, and it takes, a consequence in bold, bricksized, whlam! And thus you perish, with the weight of the words you say yourself, but stay calm, stallion in the race, isn't it delightful to die feeling no shame?

First published on my instagram, @/trashcomputer, on July 19th, 2022. Original work.

#writer #writers on tumblr #dark academia #thoughts #thought piece #bravado #fiction #monologue #short fiction #short story #dark academism #light academia

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lewishamil10n · 2 years

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the year is 2050. j2 are at a con to talk about their classic show spn. someone asks a question about sam and dean's relationship, and jensen talks at length about how much dean loves sam and how he thought his speech in the barn scene reflected that perfectly. jared talks about how difficult it was for sam to live without dean. they agree that the boys had a good life together before dean's death, and that their reunion in heaven is the perfect ending for them.

on twitter, a user with a blue and green heart in their username tweets:

haha jackles can pretend all he wants, we all know he hates the finale!! destiheller king 💚💙

another replies:

haha #SexySilence

a third answers:

where are the destiel tapes!! someone violate jensen's privacy and leak them already!

a fourth person says:

i can't wait for jensen to finally be free of his abusive PR friendship so he can be his authentic self with mish #CocklesForever

a fifth person mourns for a group they don't really care about, saying:

it's the queer kids who watched spn that i really feel awful for. what they did was the peak of homophobia and the worst thing that queer people have ever been through #TheySilencedYou

someone adds:

i bet it's jared's fault :/ he's been holding misha back forever, we all know he's always been insanely jealous.

the other five agree.

meanwhile, none of this changes the fact that sam and dean are canon soulmates, who lived out their semi-retirement domestic fantasies in the bunker after years of thinking they could never have that kind of peace. j2 are still attached at the hip, spending insane amounts of time together. they have long since stopped pretending to acknowledge misha's existence, even though every now and then he still tweets inappropriate things about jensen. all six of his remaining fans are delighted by this but no one else cares. jared has gone on to star in several successful shows, and even a few movies. jensen directs all of them. their spin-off short series about sam and dean in heaven was a massive hit.

the twitter user with the hearts in their username posts:

i can't believe jensen would just abandon mish like this :/ that man literally only cares about j*red, it's disgusting :/

the other five agree. they make plans to get #MishaForPresident trending, using every sock account they have at their disposal. it works for five whole minutes, and they begin bombarding the white house account with spam, asking when they'll be swearing misha in. misha tweets:

I'd be a great President, especially with my First Lady at my side @jensenackles

all six of his fans cheer. jensen doesn't respond, because he permablocked misha on twitter after The Great Destihell Shitfest of 2026. he goes on a nice dinner date with jared and posts pictures, with the caption:

Date Night with my boy.

jared likes it immediately and comments:

looking great for a dude pushin' 100! love you brother ❤️

twitter is in uproar. INCEST, they shout. someone tweets:

I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY'RE STILL PANDERING TO THOSE GROSS WINCESTIES UGH I'M SO SICK OF THIS. THEY ALWAYS DO THIS!!!

they are comforted by misha, who posts a link to his stands shop where he's selling a t-shirt with the words LOVE WINS written in feathers over a trenchcoat. a reply arrives immediately:

the only real ally 💚💙 fuck those homophobic assholes, who needs them anyway!!

it receives five likes.

on november 19, jensen posts the barn scene. jared posts the bridge reunion. they talk about how much spn means to them and how much they still care about sam and dean. they don't mention misha at all, even when he posts his own crying face from his final scene.

the more things change, the more they stay the same.

#this was supposed to be a short snarky post and it became a monster lmao #j2 #anti destiel #anti destihellers #anti misha collins #naila.txt #salt tag #shitposting #this is inspired by hellers STILL gaslighting themselves into believing jensen is one of them #even after jensen talked at length abt the finale lol which he clearly doesn't hate #such stupidity can only inspire mockery

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mochikeiji · 3 years

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Enough For Me

Request: "Congratulations on 1k!!! you deserve it, you’re a really good writer. Can i request prompt 12 “please don’t cry” angst to fluff with yuuta from jjk. thank you, congrats."

12. "please, don't cry."

↠ Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x Reader

↠ Warning: angst to fluff

↬ Word Count: 1.5k

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

When did every thing become so loud?

One minute you were similing. Laughing loud with a hint of the obvious enjoyment masked on your features. Then second you're staring to nowhere but silence greeting you. An expression so dim that the light in your eyes wasn't present as well. Left at the forest training grounds, the others had already gone back to their dorms. You told them you were staying for a bit for extra training when in reality, you were looking for an outlet without anyone witnessing your hour of vulnerability.

Stupid clan and their elders. As disrespectful as it may sound, you understood now why Gojo despises them. Loud it was to the point it deafens your ears; the murmurs of a child cast away from the bloodline because of the mockery it holds. A no good sorcerer was never welcome in families like yours. People would still chew on your head even when you have your backs turned on them. So frustrating it was to shoulder a burden of their devilish gossip and expectations.

At first it was alright. You handled it well. But to the extent where one of the higher ups brought it up during a meeting? How many people know of you and the disappointment you carry?

Gojo had his fist clenched that day. Maki understood you more than anyone, having to be someone who ran away from her clan as well. Inumaki and Panda did their best in comforting you, telling you that humans are weird to drag other humans down when they're the same race. That was just being so entitled, said Panda. You however, convinced your comrades you were fine. You were used to it. And it was fine.

It didn't matter what other's say as long as other's knew you for what you weren't, right?

That doesn't mean you couldn't help but become overwhelmed of the impact they had on you. Like knives forcefully shoved their ways through your heart. The pack of negative energy should've been enough to form a large curse that could take you.

Loud it was indeed. To have so many people shit their way into your life when you only wanted to live yours and not bother theirs.

You gulped down the heavy lump in your throat. Caught up in the fog of profanities from the world. Who were you kidding, you weren't Maki who can handle all this thrown at her. Tumbling and falling, that was all you knew about yourself in your whole life. The nails that grip in your palms pierced through the skin as blood trickles down, no amount of pain could level the amount of pent up emotions you buried in your heart.

Perhaps you've were born in the wrong time and place. If only you were a simple civilian, maybe life wouldn't be so bad. A loving family would be there, instead of the ones that were throwing their unfulfilled dreams to their children and controlling of their destiny.

The look in your mother's eyes will forever haunt you. Looking already as tired as you were, her eyes spoke more emotion than you could ever endure as loveless, empty ones met your teary gaze that very day.

"I only wanted a daughter who could've done so much for me as I've given her life after birth."

Your heart throbs, soon you were down on the dirt covered ground on your knees. The weight of her words colliding in the world you swore was a safe space for you. It shouldn't matter. Not when they've cast you away and yet, no matter what there is, she was still your mother.

And still the pain is as fresh as ever coming from the one you used to call, "family."

As loud as your world was, your cries were louder and clearer this very night. As if with all your might, you wanted to scream from above on how this was truly unfair. Wanting someone— anyone to hear you curse at the world you were forced to live in. It hurts your lungs, it was indeed hard to grasp small bits of oxygen when your insides felt like they were shrinking from the compact.

You wish you could scream at your mother that deep inside you still loved her. Even as a child who never received the motherly love they deserved, you loved her dearly. It was by instincts and the remains of your vision as a baby, being held in someone arms in hushing your cries.

The surface felt so firm unlike you remembered how it was when you were young. Yet the warm embrace felt nostalgic as it shielded you from the cold blistering wind of the night, you find yourself searching against the surface without a care of any danger or anything anymore. You wanted to be comforted for once. To not feel alone.

"Please don't cry."

Small hushes drowned out your sobs, an arm wrapped firmly around your waist while the other pets your head at the outmost caring matter. Curling closer, your hand held the one on top of your head. Taking in the rough texture, but reminding yourself that someone was now here in your time of need. Here after being away most of the times.

"Yeah, it's me." sensing your troubles as he averts his gaze away from you as if he was embarrassed. "I heard what happened. I managed to finish up much just to get here." next to him was the blade he carries around. Probably less hazardous as to why he place it down.

"Yuta.." sobbing as you clutched on the white material he wore. He immediately reverts back to soothing you in your distressed state. Something about the way he holds you only made you tear up more. It broke his heart in pieces to see you hold onto him as if he was the only person left to anchor yourself. And here he thought he had it worse back then, your body language brought this resemblance to the girl he used to hold just as he was doing now.

"Shh, I promise you that none of those words said about you is true."

Easier said, he knew that. It was easy to reassure someone of their thoughts, but it's not that easy to erase. The mind is a wondrous and torturous place to be in. Old memories can be dug out to the surface and you'd still feel the emotion like it just happened yesterday. Oh if you had Yuta's vision of you, you'd believe in his words.

A strong role model like you is exactly the reason why Yuta aims to be the strongest as well. To help people realize that strength isn't found in the words of other human beings, but within yourself. Yes, it's a harsh world we live in. Those who feel lowly amongst themselves would drag those above them. And those who feel the surge of entitlement snarls at those below them.

But no matter who it is that doubts you, and your potentials, there would always be someone behind you, with the glimmer in their eyes, you are their hope and inspiration in some ways.

That is what Yuta murmurs next to your ear, your cries now subsided to focus on his voice. "You're doing great. We've seen it. I've seen it." facing you with his boyish smiles, you wondered how'd this guy who came looking like a ragged mess become someone twinkling brighter than the stars above the night sky. It was contagious, it made you smile so minimal.

"There's that pretty smile." chuckling, he pats your head softly like treating a little kid. Yuta knows deep down that he can't fully resolve the thoughts inside of you— one of these days you'll have these moments again. And it saddens him because he's often away from you. Yet he's breathless at the fact that you're able to hold yourself off with all these tormenting you.

"You're amazing, darling." came out lower than a whisper before his lips closed in with yours. Last time he kissed you boy was he sweating buckets. He wasn't even as bold as now to be able to initiate first and pull you flush against his chest. But the erratic pace of his heart still was the same as ever. The loudness that had clouded you vanished. All you could hear now were pleasant chorus played by the crickets of the night and the wind lacing together throughout the atmosphere.

He promises to do much more with you for the time being. Help you mend the wounds no one can see and assist with the battles you two could only share and understand. One day as he stated before he would walk through the doors of your clan and prove to them that you were the diamond in the rough they've thrown but he's found.

You were his own butterfly. Beautiful to his eyes, you bestowed your wings; and to yours you cannot see but for people to admire.

"Give yourself more credit. You've done so much, my love."

#okkotsu yuuta #yuta okkotsu fluff #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk yuuta #jjk x reader #yuta okkotsu #yuuta x reader #raines: gogatsu event

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

A Bunch of (Oxy)morons

Anniversary Request Special

Synopsis: The dumb nerd develops a crush on the cynical cheerleader after he sits next to her in advanced literature, and learns just how smart her brain and mouth are. High school AU.

Warning: none

Word Count: 5.5k

Pairing: fem cheerleader!reader x nerd!Jeongin

Mr. Kim makes the entire class switch seats in the middle of the first semester for “feng shui” reasons, but Jeongin is pretty sure it’s because Changbin and Wooyoung have finally gotten on his last nerve with their incessant chatter. Participating enthusiastically in class discussions could protect their seating arrangements for so long.

Jeongin winds up with a seat in the back corner, next to the bulletin board covered with quotes, some of them literary, most of them not. The one closest to his head reads Carpe Diem! in bright gold. While the rest of the class shuffles around to their new desks, he stares blankly at the words, trying to figure out why the name of a fish species is so inspirational.

“He sure loves his quotes, huh?” comes a voice from his left. “Ugh, they’re all so cheesy.”

“Yeah, they’re really…”

He trails off when he realizes who exactly he’s talking to — JYP High’s notoriously joyless cheer captain. People always say it with humor and from a place of love, but the wry smile you have on makes the statement seem serious. It’s a particular kind of smile, one that makes you look like you’re perpetually rolling your eyes. One that doesn’t really match with your jaunty red and white cheerleading uniform.

“Really what?” you ask as you sit into your seat. There’s no mockery in your voice, which surprises him for some reason; people only tease you about your overly cynical demeanor, so why does it feel strange? Right, it’s because you seem like — and look like, if he’s being honest — the mean head cheerleader from every teen movie made.

“Lame. Some of them don’t even make sense. Like, what’s so great about carp?”

You let out a sharp laugh, and Jeongin is unreasonably proud about it. “I hate that one so much. I swear, every English and lit teacher has it hanging up somewhere. ‘Seize the day.’ If I see that one more time, there will be no more days for them to seize.”

He shakily laughs and redirects his attention to the scratched surface of his desk. Someone has carved a frowny face with x-ed out eyes, which perfectly exemplifies how he feels.

“Jeongin, right?” you continue. Thank goodness you took his remark as a joke. “You’re a junior?”

“Sophomore,” he shyly replies, rubbing his still-burning ears.

“Seriously? I thought they only let juniors and seniors take advanced lit.”

“Miss Wang talked to the counselors about it last year since she knew I liked reading the classics, and I guess she thought I was doing well enough in her class, so the school made me take a placement test to see if I could be put in. I had to analyze some passages and write some essays…” He’s talking too much, so he stops there and goes back to looking at his desk.

“You nerd. And a literary one at that,” you say, though it sounds more like a compliment than an insult. “Please tell me you’re not one of those pretentious critics that scoffs at any piece of modern writing ‘cause those guys suck.”

Unfortunately, Jeongin doesn’t get the chance to reassure that he’s not a pretentious critic because class resumes. You rest your head on a propped up arm, and your glittery bow tilts in the same direction. Pretty.

The bow, that is.

Several days later, Jeongin is sitting frozen in his seat, waiting for someone to say something.

There are a few things worse than the entire room going quiet after one has presented their argument. Jeongin would know as he’s currently living in that moment. Is it an impenetrable argument — can you even call it an argument if it’s that indisputable? — or is it so outrageously awful that everyone needs a moment to fully take in the amount of stupidity he put forth? Even Changbin and Wooyoung are oddly silent.

“I disagree,” you say, bursting the bubble of anxiety welling inside him and creating a new one altogether. He should have just stuck with the easiest interpretation rather than try to impress the class. “I think you make an interesting case, but weather is traditionally used to reflect the characters’ emotions and not the other way around.”

“Yeah, but imagine being stuck inside a creepy mansion while it’s constantly storming outside,” Wooyoung counters. “Wouldn’t you go insane too?”

“I’m pretty sure the cheer-less-leader would like the gloom,” Changbin teases. To almost no one’s surprise, you smirk and nod. “I swear, rainy days are the only times you’re actually peppy outside of a rally.”

Mr. Kim, however, still hasn’t gotten used to the gentle ribbing you get from your classmates. “There’s no need for personal attacks,” he says, to which you assure him that it was not a personal attack but a fact. “Does anyone else have anything to add? Chaeyoung? We haven’t heard from you yet.”

Chaeyoung agrees with your stance. In fact, most of the class does, Changbin and Wooyoung being the only exceptions because they enjoy playing devil’s advocate. Jeongin is thoroughly embarrassed, and even more so when someone points out that correlation does not mean causation, rendering Jeongin’s argument useless in the face of statistics. He sinks a little lower into his seat.

After an excruciating amount of time — there is no way thirty minutes is that long — the bell rings. Mr. Kim reminds everyone that the first draft of the analysis essay is due in two weeks. The class lets out a collective groan.

“Time will go by quickly, so don’t procrastinate.”

Jeongin shuts his book, leaving a folded sheet of notebook paper as a bookmark. That essay’s the last thing on his mind as of now. He’s halfway out the door when he hears you mumble to yourself, “Well, that was fun.”

“Not really,” he mutters, mostly to himself. However, since you’re standing right behind him, you hear his reply.

“I think Mr. Kim was impressed,” you say as you fall into step beside him. You’re holding two thick textbooks along with your fancy metal water bottle, and Jeongin debates whether or not to help you with your books. That would be the polite thing to do, but he’s not feeling too polite towards you after what happened. “I mean, you did argue the opposite of every single literary weather analysis, and you made it sound kind of reasonable. That essay’s gonna be easy for you.”

He parses those compliments in his head, looking for the slightest tinge of sarcasm. He doesn’t find any. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but say it like you mean it next time.” You give him a half-smile, a cross between your peculiar one and a genuine one. He blushes. “Anyway, have fun in math. It gets even harder next year.”

Jeongin glances at the trigonometry textbook in his hand, deciding not to tell you that he’s not that bad at math. You would just call him a nerd again, and a math nerd seemed worse than a literature one for some reason.

Probably because you seem to prefer reading over solving equations and proofs.

He does too.

The fall rally means two things: one, he doesn’t have to be in class for an hour and two, he has a chance to see what you’re like when you’re in Cheerleader Mode. He overheard Changbin joking that you saved all your energy for performances during class, and he’s seemingly correct.

Your sunny demeanor is so stark compared to your usual cynicism, it’s hard to believe that they’re not from two different people. There’s no lazy cat languor in the way you cheer; all the stunts you perform are sharp and polished, and wow, if he isn’t impressed by the series of flips you pull off near the end. You land into a split in front of the finished human pyramid, grinning from ear to ear. It’s only when the crowd applauds and when the music stops does your grin melt into the particular smile Jeongin identifies you with.

When he sees in advanced lit, you’re still in your uniform, a frown on your face as you jot down the homework assignments from the classes you missed earlier.

“You did great today,” he greets.

You momentarily look up at him, startling him with your sour expression. “Then you must have closed your eyes during the ending.”

“What? I thought it was amazing.”

You shake your head. “I was supposed to finish at the same time the girl on the top made it to the top. I miscounted my flips and did one extra, ugh. Everyone worked so hard, and I screwed it all up at the end. Anyway, thanks. I’m glad you had fun at least.”

“No problem, but” — he’s already blushing, and he hasn’t even said the lines yet — “say it like you mean it next time.”

“Don’t you use my own words against me.” That wry smile returns. You sigh and shut your planner, shoving it to the corner of your desk. The passing period bell still hasn’t rung yet, so you turn to him again. “So Jeongin, literary nerd, how’s that essay going?”

“I’m done. Which prompt did you pick? I did mine on the narrative structure.” He initially planned to write about the landscape and weather, but after that discussion, he decided it was best that he stay away from that topic for a while.

“Yeah, me too. Wanna swap papers during peer review?”

“Yes!” he says too quickly.

“Great. You better not hold back with your comments. Be brutally honest. I want my essay to look like it's been drenched in blood when you’re done with it.”

Two days later, Jeongin is finding that to be rather difficult because you are underselling yourself as a writer. He has heard your points in class discussions before, and they’re always well-thought-out. On paper though, he imagines that this is what you’re like when you’re in Cheer Captain Mode: assertive and matter-of-fact.

Most of his suggestions are about your paragraph transitions and better phrasing, nothing about the actual quotes or their respective pieces of analysis. When Jeongin gets his essay back, his is the one that looks like it has been drenched in blood. He scans through the comments. In the empty space on the last page, in giant red letters reads, “Tighten up your arguments and HAVE SOME CONFIDENCE!”

He’s unsure if this is a personal attack or a motivational speech.

“What does this mean?” he asks.

You lean over, your shoulder only a few centimeters away from his. He could kiss your temple right now if he wanted, and the sudden thought of that makes him flinch.

“Oh, sorry. That was probably my hair,” you say as you draw back. “Anyway, this means exactly what it says. Even though you have good points, you write like you’re unsure about it, which makes you seem less credible. You’re a sophomore in a junior-senior class; you’re smarter than you think you are. So have some confidence.”

He doesn’t really have that much left after reading your paper. Nonetheless, he says, “Okay. And thanks for editing.”

“Thank you to you too.”

You shuffle your papers back together and ask Changbin if he could look over it. Jeongin then trades essays with Felix, who sits catty corner to him. Felix is a junior, a fact Jeongin only knows because that was his interesting fact about himself during ice breakers before Mr. Kim made him choose an actual interesting fact. Jeongin sighs in relief when he sees that Felix’s essay is not nearly as good as yours. At least he knows that not everyone else’s writing skills aren’t as intimidating.

It takes nearly a fortnight for him to realize it, but Jeongin is pretty sure he has a crush on you. It’s either that or he’s holding himself to very high standards of analysis. Your message to “have some confidence” rang in his ears as he made edits to his paper, and he kept checking your facial expressions during class discussions to see if you approve of his argument or not. Then he started noticing the little things, like that little eyebrow raise you do before doling out a snarky remark. Your jackets are always too large, so one side always ends up halfway down your arm before you hastily pull it back up.

“Hey,” you say as you turn to him after finishing your conversation with Changbin. “Are you busy after school on Friday?”

This can’t be what he thinks it is. There’s no way you like him. “I don’t think so,” he squeaks out, ears burning.

“Great. Or maybe not. Anyway.” You open the cover of your topmost textbook and hold out a purple flyer to him. “The cheer team has a fundraiser at FroYoZen. If you show them this, we’ll get twenty percent, so come if you can and bring your friends.”

He takes the flyer and carefully folds into halves. “I might be able to go.”

“Well, I’ll be there, so I’ll know if you actually show up or not.”

Oh, he’s definitely going to go, and he’s going to drag as many people as he can with him. That should make you happy.

Unfortunately, he only manages to convince Beomgyu and Chaeryeong, though Chaeryeong is there more for “cheer-dance solidarity” rather for Jeongin’s sake. He stands in line with his flyer, scanning the tables to see if you are there. Despite half the cheer team being there, he sees you seated by a window with a stack of purple flyers and a cup of yogurt in a perfectly matching color. You’re dutifully doing homework.

“That’s the cheer captain,” Chaeryeong informs when she sees him staring at you. Luckily, you’re too busy with homework to notice that he had been staring.

“She sits next to me in lit. She told me about this.”

Beomgyu and Chaeryeong are stunned by this news, but Jeongin is pretty sure he’s mentioned you before. Well, maybe not by name, now that he thinks about it.

“Is she actually like what people say she is?” Beomgyu asks.

The memory of Changbin calling you a “cheer-less-leader” plays in his head. “Kind of, but she’s nice and really smart.”

“Can you ask her if she’s eating taro or ube, and if it’s good, for me?” Chaeryeong interjects. “Since you know her and all.”

As much as Jeongin would like to talk to you, he’s not sure if he wants to do it in a crowded frozen yogurt shop with dozens of his classmates around. You’re popular, he’s not, and while the social hierarchy at JYP High doesn’t really exist, it still feels awkward to him.

“I just sit next to her…” he weakly protests as Chaeryeong pushes him along, using him as a human shield as they approach you. Beomgyu calls for them to hurry before the line moves up too far. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Because I don’t know her and you do.”

“She’s not as scary as people make her out to be.”

“I know, but I still feel weird about it.”

“It’s one question.”

“Don’t you want to talk to her?”

He stutters out an incoherent response. Jeongin stops at your table, Chaeryeong peeking from behind his back. “Hi,” he says to you, his pitch much higher than normal.

“Hey…” You finally glance up from your notebook. “Oh, you did come. And you brought a friend too. You’re on the dance team, right? With your sister?”

Chaeryeong shyly nods.

“Your routine during fall rally was sick. Anyway, thanks for coming and supporting the cheer team,” you say. “Make sure you show them the flyer during checkout. There’s a bunch here if you need one.”

Chaeryeong takes one even though she has one in her pocket and nudges Jeongin. With more embarrassment than normal, he asks about the flavor you chose. “It’s the same color as the flyers.”

“Yeah, I did that on purpose. Ube’s my favorite flavor here.” You flash Jeongin and Chaeryeong that particular smile. “It’s cheesy, I know, but red and white is really boring for a fundraiser. Might as well pick a good color, am I right? Also, you guys might wanna get in line before it gets too long.”

Chaeryeong nods and waits for Jeongin, but he doesn’t want frozen yogurt anymore. “You can go ahead. Get me mango if I’m not back in time.” he tells her, and she bounds off to Beomgyu who is anxiously glancing at them. To you: “I wanted to ask you if you got your grade for the essay yet.”

“No, I’ve been checking. He said ‘by the end of the day,’ but who knows if he means by the end of the workday or the actual day.” You sigh and readjust your falling jacket sleeve. “Did you get yours yet?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sure you did good.”

“It’s Mr. Kim. He’s known to be a harsh grader.” You sigh again and pick up your pencil. “We’ll see what happens. Thanks for coming.”

You say it like you mean it, and something inside Jeongin bursts with confetti. “Thanks for letting me know about this.”

He also means it.

Grades are inputted in at midnight, and Jeongin’s first instinct is to tell you about the amazing 91% he received, only to realize that he has no way to contact you. He finds your social media and spends far too much time contemplating whether he should follow you or not. He wants to, he really wants to. He loves your profile picture: a candid of you leaning against a lit street light in the dark, your deadpan expression juxtaposed with the rose gold balloons you hold. It perfectly captures you.

But is it weird to do so? Would you suspect something if he did add you?

@cheerlessleader stares back at him, daring him to do so. He almost brings himself to press the button. Almost.

When he finally sees you Monday afternoon, he feels like he’s about to combust with all of the good news inside him. You finally finish your conversation with Changbin after what feels like an eternity.

“Grades went in,” he blurts out.

“You got a good grade, didn’t you? Look at this fountain of joy over here,” you call out to no one in particular. You smile. He loves your smile so much, especially when it’s directed at him. “So what did you get?”

He tells you with all of the confidence that he has, and you nod approvingly. “That’s great. Nice job, lit nerd.”

It sounds so pretty when you say it; it rolls off your tongue so easily, more like you’re singing than speaking. “It was because of your comments.”

“As much as I appreciate your flattery, you’re forgetting about your own writing skill. Stop doubting yourself. You’re too young for that.” Your jacket sleeve falls down, and Jeongin wants to pull it back up for you, to cover your exposed shoulder. Mr. Kim’s classroom is always freezing.

“What did you get?” he asks to distract himself.

You tug at your jacket collar. “96. Apparently, I’ve got ‘a little bit of confirmation bias.’ I can’t wait to see his actual comments on the essay, not just that little blurb he writes in the gradebook.”

Jeongin’s blurb is about his “extraneous and unnecessary details” and “looser-than-ideal structure.” “96 is amazing.”

“Thanks. 91’s amazing too.”

“Amazing” is too bright of a word for you to use, especially since your usual speaking tone borders on impassive. But he can tell the difference between your normal drawls and gibes now. Changbin is usually on the receiving end of your playful derision. Your words drip with sarcasm like honey from a spoon, deceiving the recipient momentarily with its sweetness, slowly covering them in its heaviness. It’s a very dramatic affair from Jeongin’s point of view.

He would love to get a taste, a true taste, none of that watered down stuff you serve him.

Beomgyu is one of his closest friends, and therefore knows something is off about Jeongin. “Hello? Are you even listening?”

“Yeah.” To all of his friends, Jeongin has been staring off into the distance for the past five minutes, but the truth is, he’s been observing you at your lunch table for the past five minutes. There’s a football game tonight, so you’re in your uniform, your iridescent bow shining in the sun. Jeongin has this stupid notion in his head that you’ll notice him and wave hello when you catch his eye.

“What’s the color of my homecoming dress?” Ryujin asks.

He snaps to attention after noticing everyone’s eyes on him. Ryujin’s question echoes in his ears, and he tries to play back the snippets of conversation he might have overheard. He swears they were chatting about peach drinks, not homecoming. It’s all white noise though. “Blue?” he guesses.

“Light or dark?”

“Dark?”

“Trick question,” she says, satisfied. She spoons a colorful blob out from her fruit cup. “I’m not going to homecoming.”

While Chaeryeong protests and while Beomgyu gets dragged into their bickering, signaling to an oblivious Jeongin for help, Jeongin is back to watching you make disgusted faces as your friends try hot sauce on apples. When Jeongin has finally given up on getting your attention, Ryujin is still adamant on not going to the dance.

“I’ll go if the boys go,” she says, clearly assuming that neither of them are interested.

“Well, I’m going now just to piss you off,” Beomgyu says. Chaeryeong cheers.

Ryujin is sending Jeongin warning glares, but he simply shrugs them off. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

The lunch table devolves into chaos: Ryujin aggressively flicks water at the Beomgyu and Jeongin, Jeongin tries to shield his books from water damage, and Chaeryeong pleads with her to go dress shopping together. On the surface, it appears that Jeongin has agreed to go to the dance just to spite his friend. That’s only partially why he’s going though.

Before advanced literature can begin, he turns to you to ask you what homecoming’s like — he wants to know if you’re going, but this seems like a more innocuous way of finding out — but you speak first.

“Did you hear about our final?”

He hasn’t.

“An ‘in-depth character analysis, complete with comparisons to other characters from any media.’ Ugh, I thought we were done with this book already. This has to be Mr. Kim’s favorite book or something.”

“It could be worse,” he volunteers. He’s itching to ask you, so he says it without any pretense. “Have you been to homecoming before?”

“Okay, look, I know my whole thing is ‘the cynical cheerleader,’ but I do cheerleader-y things too.” Dry wit, but none of it is about him. Your signature smile doesn’t accompany it, and your tone morphs into something more neutral. “What do you wanna know? It’s definitely not as fancy as prom, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“What’s it like?”

“Kind of boring, if I’m being honest. You just hang out with your friends and talk, maybe dance if you’re feeling extra alive that night. Take pictures in front of the balloon arch and pretend that you’re not actually inside the gym.”

His heart drops. He hopes his voice doesn’t betray him when he asks, “So you’re not going this year then?”

You laugh a little, and the smile shows up, instantly soothing his worries. “No, I am. It’s my senior year. I might as well.”

That’s all he needed to know.

Like you told him, homecoming is a little boring. JYP High’s football team did win their game yesterday, so everyone at the dance is in high spirits, but the event itself isn’t as exciting as teen movies made it out to be. Pictures are taken in front of the arch, in front of the painted ocean scene, in front of the extremely out-of-place red padding on the gymnasium walls.

Jeongin scans the sea of people for you, getting hopeful every time he sees something green. He overheard you talking to Chaeyoung about rewearing last year’s dress, and Changbin complimented the color, saying it reminded him of the wooden grass cutouts they had for the Alice in Wonderland theme but “in a good way.” However, the dimness of the building doesn’t help.

While taking (another) picture in front of (another) painted whale, he hears Changbin’s and Wooyoung’s distinct voices above the hum of the dance. You’re standing near them by the octopus cutout, posing for pictures with a few of your cheer members. Even in the low light, you’re stunning in your short flared dress. You mockingly twirl for the camera, your skirt still spinning with motion when you stop. You smirk and push your shoulder forward, batting your eyelashes in the most coy manner he has ever seen. Then you dissolve into laughter as your members look on with horror when they realize how un-you you’re being. He can’t stop the growing smile on his face.

The sound of a shutter goes off, and Beomgyu lowers his arm and hands the phone back to Chaeryeong. Your cheer members have dispersed, and you melt your way into Changbin and Wooyoung’s circle.

“There’s an octopus!” Ryujin points out. Jeongin never knew about her enthusiasm for them, but he’s grateful for it as she drags them all to where you just were. She plants herself firmly in the center of the cutout.

“Jeongin, ask her to take it for us,” Chaeryeong says, shoving her phone into his hand and using him again as a human shield to get to you. “You know her.”

The same nervous feelings from before arise, and he’s sufficiently red when he finally reaches you. He stiffly holds out Chaeryeong’s phone, being careful to look at your face and not anywhere else. Seeing you up close now is like the opposite of looking at a Monet.

“H-hi. Could you take a picture for us?” he manages to get out. “You look nice, by the way,” he adds in a hurried breath.

“Flattery always works. And thanks.” You say it like you mean it. “Nice tie. I think Changbin’s wearing the exact same one.”

Jeongin’s not wearing a tie.

He fiddles with his shirt collar, wondering if he should have worn one after all. At the octopus, you snap a few pictures of him and his friends, an amused grin appearing as Beomgyu gives Jeongin and Ryujin bunny ears with his fingers. Chaeryeong bounds forward to see how the photos turned out, and Jeongin follows closely behind, mostly so he can be near you again.

“I like your dress,” he shyly tells you as Chaeryeong scrolls through her camera roll.

“What other favors do you need? If it’s stealing the octopus, you should probably ask them,” you say, gesturing toward Changbin and Wooyoung.

“I was just complimenting you.”

“Sure you were.” You turn to Chaeryeong. “Did the pictures turn out okay?”

She beams and nods. “Yes! Thank you so much.”

You wave them off and head back to your friends, returning Wooyoung’s challenge to a dance battle with a snarky retort. Your remark about dancing echoes in his head. Does he dare to do it? And during an event where no one is actually dancing? He takes a step in your direction, eyes trained on your back—

“Shark!” interrupts Beomgyu, disbelief and excitement coloring his cries when he spots the poster. “Let’s go.”

Jeongin follows his friends and situates himself right under the shark’s gaping maw. When he smiles for the camera, it’s because he’s watching you. Your lips are curled into a smirk as you listen to Changbin’s taunts, but even from this distance, he can see the genuine happiness shining through. You catch his eye and wave at him, sending his heart racing.

Carpe Diem!

Today is the day Jeongin seizes the day.

The golden quote by his head has been a reminder of your first interaction with him, and though he can still hear your sharp laugh over it’s cheesiness, it’s a perfect description of what Jeongin’s going to do after school.

Last weekend, he finally worked up the nerve to follow you. He nearly squealed with delight when he saw that you followed me back. Plus, you liked his photos from the homecoming dance and his latest one of his poke bowl. That had to mean something.

So that is why Jeongin is standing in line at FroYoZen, ordering ube yogurt instead of his usual mango. Cheer practice is still going on, but he needs to be back on campus before it’s over. He needs to catch you at the perfect moment and present your favorite dessert to you and ask if you would like to go out with him and wait anxiously for your reply. Just thinking about it makes him dizzy.

When he makes it back to school — thank goodness the store isn’t two far away — practice is still ongoing, judging by the lack of people hanging around the parking lot. Jeongin makes himself comfortable on the steps leading to the main building and watches the building doors. Your carefully packaged yogurt is sitting in the shade of his backpack. He would rather you eat it when it hasn’t been completely turned into a puddle, but practice is going longer than he expected.

“Hey,” he hears Changbin say.

Jeongin meekly says hello back. He doesn’t know Changbin that well since he sits on the other side of the room; you’re his only connection to him.

“You waiting for someone too?” Changbin asks. He sits down beside him, stretching his legs and his arms.

“Yeah.”

“How’s your final essay going?”

“I haven't started yet. What about you?” Why is practice so long?

“Same. I don’t know why he told us a month early. It’s not like anyone’s actually going to work on it.”

Jeongin nods and is frantically trying to come up with another response when the main doors swing open. Two girls he recognizes come out, holding their sparkly pom poms and water bottles. Another girl, this time with a duffel bag. Then you and another senior girl, chatting about another fundraiser, pausing under the veranda to finish the conversation. After you’re done discussing the finer points of Friday nights versus Saturday nights, you start making your way towards the parking lot. When you see him, you raise your eyebrows and your mouth quirks up.

“You seriously waited for me?”

Jeongin smiles and nods. “Y—”

“I told you I would,” Changbin says, standing up to greet you. “I can’t believe you didn’t trust me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause last time I trusted you, I ended up eating fruit with hot sauce!” You shake your head, more with amusement than annoyance, and notice the yogurt cup. “Ube or taro? If it’s ube, you make good choices.”

“It’s ube,” he replies. His fingers wrap around the container, but he hesitates about giving it to you right now. Changbin being here wasn’t part of his plan.

You nod approvingly. “Nice. Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah.”

“I think the dance team is almost done.”

Jeongin just smiles stiffly and wonders if he should just go for it now. He sets the yogurt onto his lap and finds that no words are coming to his head. The speech he had prepared two days ago has been erased from his mind. His heart is beating too fast, the sun is too low in the sky and directly in his eyes, and your gift is slowly melting in his hold.

“See you on Monday,” you tell him as you begin to walk down the steps with Changbin.

All he needs to do is get up and follow you. He’s halfway up when he sees Changbin throw an arm around your shoulder. You make a noise but don’t pull away. Jeongin sits back down.

“You seriously waited two hours for me?” you say. “I was just going to ask Tzuyu for a ride.”

“You know I’m not actually a lousy boyfriend, right? Whatever bad things Yeri has said about me is a lie.”

“Oh, so they’re definitely true then.”

You gasp when he shoves you away and chase after Changbin when he sails down the rest of the stairs. Your red and white pom poms swing back and forth in your hand as you shout in your loud Cheerleader Voice for him to “get back here!”

He’s such an idiot. Why didn’t he see it before? Changbin is always around you, playing devil’s advocate to all your arguments, teasing you. Your social media handle is his nickname for you! All this time, he just thought Changbin was a friend — a really, really good friend.

The main doors swing open again, and the dance team comes out, just like you promised, but he doesn’t even notice. He doesn’t even realize going to school the following Monday; all he knows is that it was torture. Tuesday is torture. Wednseday is torture and basically every day sitting beside you is torture now that he knows he can’t ever go out with you. You still act the same towards him, sharing complaints about homework and teasing him for being a nerd, but he can’t joke or make you laugh like he used to. His feelings for you melt like yogurt in his hands: an ungraspable liquid that seeps through his fingers, falling helplessly to the ground, yet ever still so present, sticky and uncomfortable.

~ ad.gray

Extra: Changbin’s oxymoron is supposed to be salty sweetheart.

Thank you so much for the compliments! Hope you enjoyed this! <3

#stray kids #skz #in #yang jeongin #jeongin #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #in imagines #in scenarios #in x reader #jeongin scenarios #jeongin imagines #jeongin x reader #high school au #fem reader #20210819

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achillieus · 3 years

Text

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, infidelity, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, this part is full of angst and built up tension,

part: 3/6

(other parts) (masterlist)

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing. Some days it makes him feel like he is only a porcelain face on screen. Nothing more than photographs and rumors. He had once told an interviewer he was scared people would never know the real Sebastian. What he meant was that he was worried he’d wake up one day and the real him would be vanished.

The world would have eaten him alive.

Walking you home, in empty streets in a small country makes it all easier. His mind is clear of dazzling thoughts and his heart is not racing up. He can smile and no one will be there to take a picture of him.

Somehow that makes him smile more.

And when he does, it feels like Christmas. And you are certain there will come a day where you’ll be so close to oblivion and unable to remember what mint tastes like or what your favorite color is, but you’ll still have the turned up corners of his mouth painted in your head.

He stops walking. You look at him confused. He’s fidgeting with his fingers.

“Back at the party,” he takes a long breath as if trying to slow down his heartbeat, “You were talking with that tall guy.”

He sounds terrified. You don’t understand why. He thinks it’s better that way.

“Yeah I was.” There’s a flicker of surprise in your voice.

“Do you know him well?” You realize you have stopped in front of a pharmacy, the halogen light above you, turning your skin a sick green color.

“I know he’s an actor.” You take a step, finding the courage to walk away from him. “He’s kinda famous here.”

You can hear him move close behind you.

“Do you want me to ask Argyris if he’s single?”

There’s mockery in his voice. It makes you feel intoxicated. It’s your turn to stop walking. Your gaze falls on his face and Sebastian can feel his eyes sting but he keeps them open; wide and pale blue.

Almost green, under this light.

“No.”

“Oh don’t be sh-“

“No, I mean it. I would never date a famous guy.”

“Why?” A hasted breath escapes his trembling lips. And for a moment you think of kissing him right there; in the middle of the street, but you never do.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

That’s what you want to yell back at him, but then you remember;

The evening Sebastian fell asleep in your couch, he was more than a famous guy. He was clutching on your pillow like a kid and he was humming to himself like your father used to.

And he smiled as he fell asleep.

There is no argument left in you. He’s just a boy.

“I’m scared.” Your words slowly suffocate him. He feels the weight of your heart pulling him down.

He nods.

The next two days pass in a blur. You can hear him laugh with people as they walk up the stairs to Argyris’ flat. You’re not used to him not stopping at your door. It makes your cheeks red and your eyes filled with salty tears.

You haven’t realized until now, but you’ve become dependent on his presence.

So when you open your eyes at 4am with your phone buzzing with an Instagram message, you bite your cheeks.

Are you awake?

You stare at the screen to make sure you read it all correct, until it turns black and then lights up once again.

Why are you scared?

You don’t have to be scared with me.

I’m trying. You want to answer. Help me. You want to answer. Please.

You put your phone away until the words turn blurry.

He’s back at your door the following night. He’s wearing a white tank top and his rings. He must have just finished shooting.

You keep staring at each other, both tongue-tied with the words you’ll never say. He looks worried and desperate. You look tired and desperate. Taylor Swift is playing in the background.

“No more AC/DC?” He laughs and your eyes smile.

“Do you want to talk?” He asks.

You shake your head like you’re at war with yourself.

“Do you want to just stay here?” Your voice is too silent but it’s almost deafening him.

Sebastian thinks that he wants tons of things. He wants to hold you. And he wants to touch you. Everywhere. And he wants to know why there’s sorrow surrounding you. And he wants to take it all away.

And he wants you.

But he knows that he can’t tell you that. These words are too heavy for you to carry on your shoulders. At least for now.

“I’ll stay.” He says with a breath.

You give him an almost smile and all you can feel is gratitude.

You lay in your bed together. You’ve slept with other guys in that bed before. And it’s been nude and sloppy and brutal. But this is different. This is intimacy in its purest form. You’re both fully clothed but you both feel naked. And so close. So close.

All Sebastian can hear is the sound of your breathing and every bone inside him is breaking. He is afraid he’s turning paralyzed.

And then you move your body and bring your forehead next to his. Sebastian inhales deeply. You smell of faded vanilla body cream.

You look at him and you know then you can get used to that. You bury your fingers in the hem of his shirt. You want him to come closer. He knows.

“I’ll stay love,” his voice is steady and sincere “Anytime.”

He calls you love because there’s nothing else to call you. He calls you love because you both need him too.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Sebastian thinks you’re always too sensible. It’s something you keep between the hollows of your body. “But it’s okay.”

His hand is in your hair. It soothes you.

“What happened? What broke you?” he whispers.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how everything started. It's hard to remember but there is one image in the back of your eyes that crawls through your skin and makes you shiver. You try to ignore it.

“I don’t know.” He turns his gaze at you but you look at the cold ceiling. It’s so much easier this way.

He doesn’t answer. He just draws circles in the back of your palm and places his lips against the scalp of your head. And while you’ve never been much of a science person, you’re certain this is how a nuclear attack emerges.

When the sun rises and you wake up, he’s not there. Earth moves slowly as the cold sheets press against your skin.

It’s early, there is a soft breeze coming in from your open window. A man is bickering with this wife across the street.

You can hear her call him a liar.

I’ll stay love.

You can hear him yell his apologies.

Anytime.

Why do people lie? Why do we lie?

You don’t try to search for him. You take a shower and drink some chocolate milk. You pay attention to the silence in the room. You almost forget your heart is still beating.

You bump into Argyris’ girlfriend while taking out the garbage. You like her a lot. She’s strong and pretty and smart. You wonder sometimes, how exactly that feels.

You pray she doesn’t mention him. It doesn’t work.

“He must be flying right now.” Suddenly you feel as if there is something rotten inside your chest. It makes you want to graze your skin and throw away everything that's inside.

You look at her slightly confused.

“He’s flying to Toronto; he has to attend a festival there.” She smiles. You’ve noticed she always smiles.

You just nod and step out of the building. Her voice stops you.

“He’s coming back in some days.”

“I don’t care.” Now she laughs.

“There’s no need to lie.” You take a sharp breath. “He cares too.”

You want to believe her words but they seem like choke chains.

You throw your garbage away.

You keep your rotten chest.

Sebastian sits back at his seat and orders a hundred and one drinks. The airplane is chasing the sun. He’s chasing his thoughts. Neither will ever catch up.

He used to like travelling. Airports, suitcases and foreign hotel rooms made him feel free. Now they make him feel the opposite.

The material on his seat is rugged. He wants to go back to your soft sheets. He can’t.

And then he imagines a place and a time where he could just kiss you without any possible consequences. He imagines a place where you could rest your bodies together for a long time without worries weighing you down. He imagines a place where he gets what he wants. A place where that thing between you two is more than enough.

The sun blinds him. He closes the small window and then his eyes.

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing.

Some days he can’t take it.

You’re sitting on the floor and it’s almost 9 in the morning. You’ve calculated the time difference and it’s 2 in the morning where he is. That sounds wrong. Almost scary.

He left three days ago but he’s everywhere. There are photos of him wearing stupid floral shirts and posing in a sophisticated way. And there’s Nicole Kidman next to him.

God. I’ve become infatuated with a man who plays in movies with Nicole Kidman and Robert Downey Jr.

That’s what you think and you know you’re doomed.

You expect him to send you a message or a picture at first, but he doesn’t. You wonder if your time together was only a blurry puzzle of disconnected memories that somehow fits in his past.

He’ll simply forget all of it.

You try not to think about him but then you meet Argyris in the lobby and you have to bite the inside of your mouth so his name doesn’t jump out from your lips.

You go to bed early that day. You hold onto your pillow and you count the hours that separate you.

(13 hours with a plane)

(25 days with a boat)

You count and you fall asleep.

And you fall in love.

It’s not uncommon to rain in Toronto. But today rain feels heavier on Sebastian’s skin. He remembers the day he met you; it was hot and the sun made the window glass look like it was about to melt. That memory is the cause of his shivering.

Once upon a time he was in love. He was in love with a girl who had ethereal written all over her body. He was in love with a girl who was destined for divinity.

But those were the old days; they are dead and gone now. Your skin glistening under the Athenian sun changed it all.

It’s not easy to feel this way. The sky understands so it opens up and pours down on his dark hair. He presses his eyes closed with his fingers. And he tries to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t think about you that often.

He can’t.

Not even when he has a deity as his girlfriend.

The next time you see him, his hair is a little longer and much messier than you remember. And you have to devour all the sense that’s left inside you as not to touch it with your bare hand.

He has a cigarette in his fingers and a dark jacket thrown around his shoulders and everyone’s asking him about the festival. You just sit on the corner of your neighbor’s flat and listen to laughter and glasses clicking against each other. And you smile.

Smile; because he’s here.

And then he notices you and you’re pretty sure his eyes linger on your face a little longer than it's normal for humans. And his gaze is so brilliantly blank and loony that you don’t know how to respond. And then he starts to cough. And he never looks at you for the rest of the night.

You want to believe it’s better this way.

But it makes you so angry; you want to clench your teeth hard.

It goes like this; you don’t exchange any words for the next two days and it feels like your lips will start to bleed.

And you don’t know but his head feels like battlefield.

“When do you know you can’t stop it?” He asks Argyris. He feels ashamed.

“When you don’t want to stop it.”

He grabs the beer can and drinks his confusion away. He hopes alcohol will send his thoughts to sleep but instead it sends him to your door.

He rests his head against the wooden material. He can hear water running down and he can hear you humming a song.

And the foreign words make no sense to him but somehow they sound like lyrical poetry.

He waits for the water to stop and then he knocks.

Your hair is wet and sticks to your blue shirt. Your eyes grow wide when you see him standing there.

“I thought you’d never come at my door again.”

He looks at the floor.

“I shouldn’t.”

He sounds defeated; defeated by his own self. And you can smell the flammable liquid on his breath. And you can see that he has his nails pressed against his palm. You take his hand in yours and he closes his eyes. You caress the little cuts with your fingers. There are no scars but the skin is still red and painted with fear. You understand and it makes you feel dirty and obscene.

You look thoughtful for a moment and then you decide you can’t go on like this. It will split your souls.

“How’s Canada?” His eyes fill with surprise and he laughs. It gives you pride.

“Never been?”

He takes a step inside your place and his eyes fall on the empty bottle of pills at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t say a word about it.

You love him for that.

“I’ve never been anywhere.” Your cheeks are flushed with a soft raspberry color.

Sebastian realizes then that he wants to show you the entire world. Every corner of it. He wants to hold your hand as you walk beneath the Corsican stars. And he wants to memorize the Northern lights with you by his side. And he wants to see you laugh as he falls off his surf board in New Zealand. And he wants every cliché thing there is to do.

His heart stretches at the thought of it.

“Canada is beautiful in its own way.” He looks out of your window.

You wonder if he’s trying to find some more constellations in the sky, but then he turns around and walks towards you.

“I’ve been there a lot of times.”

Of course you have, you think.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ears. It’s still damp and cold.

“Have you been to a lot of places?” He smiles and nods.

And then you can sense it; the sharp feeling of heartbreak crawling under your skin. You try to ignore it.

“I used to be grateful I travel all the time.”

You place your hand on his chest. The beating makes you calm.

“You’re not grateful anymore?”

He rubs his palm over his face.

“I am,” he inhales “But sometimes I just want to stay where I am.”

Yeah, I know.

He leaves an hour later, still drunk.

Still in love.

On Sunday, he takes you out for dinner. You tell him you don’t like dates. He promises it’s not a date.

You know you’re both lying.

He orders some red wine and he drinks as he watches you eat. It all feels natural to him. Somewhere at the back of his head though, there’s still some rationality left, that makes him think, this can’t be wrong, when it feels so natural.

He doesn’t drink any more.

You’re playing with the maraschino cherry on your dessert when his phone rings and your world comes crashing down.

You don’t intend to but you see the caller ID.

Love.

He had called you love one night.

He feels too guilty to look at you so he grabs the device and gets out of the place.

You want to throw the ice cream on the floor.

And then you want to hit the wall; with your head. But you can’t. So you just bite down at the cherry and wait for him to come back.

And when he does, things are different.

He doesn’t to try to make jokes and you don’t laugh. His eyes are everywhere but on you and your hand stays away from his.

You tell him you’re done with dessert so you can leave.

He has never felt more relieved.

Your pace is fast, but he catches up. You can’t outrun him.

His breath quickens as he comes closer. It’s almost innocent and childlike, the look he gives you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers and it makes you laugh. You laugh and you shake your head and it’s not enough.

“Why?” He can taste the bitterness all over you. “This wasn’t date. So why are you sorry?”

You keep walking and his breath keeps echoing in your ears. You find the entrance of your building.

You’ve seen the place a hundred times but only now you notice how old it looks. It makes you disgusted. It makes you want to vomit.

It starts with him saying he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

And then you rest your body at the soiled wall, trying to remind yourself you’ve had your heart broken before. And your eyes are not dry anymore. And you can taste salt in your lips. And he comes closer and he holds you.

You swear you see tears in his cheeks too, but he’s too fast to wipe them away.

“Have you ever done anything only to regret it a second later?”

You’re not certain which one of you asks but you can hear your bones breaking as you throw your head around and he arches his back.

His hands touch the dried tears on your face and it stings like sewing needles. And his lips touch yours. And for a brief moment you feel like you’re stealing from life.

And he can taste all of you; raw.

And it feels like fists that punch him.

And when you pull away you both have already regretted everything.

“Now you have something to be sorry for.”

You wonder if perhaps a broken dignity is better than a broken heart.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :)

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes #monday the movie #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #letyoudown

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britt-writes · 3 years

Note

Lucas and cockwarming maybe................?????😳

I was originally going to do headcanons, but I ended up getting inspired for a drabble. I've never written anything centered around cockwarming, so I hope this is adequate!

Warning: NSFW content below the cut. 🔞

CW: Cockwarming, dirty talk, afab!reader

Drabble title: Sit Tight

Prompt: Cockwarming

Word count: 1,304

This was just about the ultimate test of your patience, though that patience was quickly running thin; you'd be edged into a near breakdown if this went on any longer. The torture was real, but you had a feeling that it was exactly what Lucas wanted.

As you kept seated upon Lucas' lap while he busied himself on his computer, you had to focus on anything, anything but Lucas' hard cock seethed deep inside your pussy. But who the fuck were you kidding? With your mind so hazy and going dumb from the sheer need you felt, there was nothing that could distract you.

Lucas pulled a sharp gasp from you when he gave a single, deep thrust. It almost gave you hope that he'd finally cave and fuck your greedy little pussy, but that hope quickly vanished, the most pitiful whine you've ever heard sounding from you as he stilled once more inside of you.

You wished that he hadn't done that; it was a cruel move on his part that left you unsatisfied and craving his cock even more. And Lucas knew what he was doing to you— enjoyed it, even. You couldn't see him, but you knew damn well that the bastard's lips had curled into a satisfied smirk upon hearing your pathetic whining.

"You feelin' alright there, darlin'?" Lucas cooed, though you could hear the slight mockery in his tone. "What's it like jus' sittin' on mah dick like that? Hm? Comfy?"

You didn't want to give Lucas the satisfaction of being so fucking sexually frustrated, but the hot arousal seeping from you, and your deep and laboured breaths gave you away.

Desperation soon overwhelmed you, causing you to slowly writhe your hips in an attempt to get even the slightest amount of friction. You hoped to be subtle in your actions, not wanting Lucas to take notice.

"Tsk. Did I say anythin' about movin'? Don't think yer bein' subtle there, babygirl," Lucas said, gripping at your hips to firmly hold you in place.

"Lucas, please. I just— fuck. I need you so bad," you begged, voice cracking.

Your pleas fell on deaf ears. "No can do, darlin'. S'nice an' warm in there. I'm fuckin' comfortable, so hold still."

"Lucas…"

"C'mon, purrty thing," he whispered in your ear. "You can do that fer me. Jus' do what I say, and I'll give it to ya real good when I feel that you deserve it."

"W-When's that gonna be?" You asked.

He snickered, finding your desperate state amusing. "Aw, look at ya! It ain't like ya to be impatient like this. The more ya squirm, the longer you'll wait."

You groaned, finding it nearly impossible to resist the temptation of moving; you were just dying to have that deliciously large cock split you apart. How Lucas of all people was able to keep his shit together during this entire ordeal was beyond you; he was the last person you'd think to be able to resist pounding into you.

"Shit, babygirl," he groaned. "That is one sloppy cunt y'ave got there. Yer leakin' all over me."

Lucas bucked his hips once more, earning a strained moan from you. Tingles ran down your spine as the aching in your core became insufferable.

"Lucas! S-Stop doing that," you said.

"Oops," Lucas mocked, loving how much he was breaking you.

You weren't sure if your ears had deceived you, but you swore you heard Lucas' voice shake, as if he too was on the brink of letting his arousal take over. Perhaps, if you begged for more in that broken, needy tone of yours he loved so much, he'd finally fill you up with some cum.

"Please, babe, I'm so fucking horny for you. I need that fat cock to fuck me," you pleaded. "I know you want it too."

"Tryin' to sweet talk me into movin'?" Lucas chuckled. "Nice try, but it ain't happenin' yet."

You stayed silent, trying your best to stay as still as possible and hoping to God Lucas would come around sooner or later. Your core was fucking stirring from the sensation of Lucas' dick remaining firmly plugged deep inside of you, not providing any relief but instead serving as a way to tease you, taunt you and remind you that he was in control.

Your breaths grew increasingly hot and heavy as Lucas' cock pulsed up and down inside of you, just barely tickling your most sensitive area. Judging by the laughter coming from your lover, he was doing this intentionally.

"You're fucking cruel," you whined. Your throat was dry, and you sounded dehydrated.

"I'm just havin' some fun withcha," he said.

Chapped lips pressed against your neck, gently sucking at the overly sensitive flesh. A mixture between a whine and a moan escaped you when you felt Lucas' tongue trail along your pulse.

Your skin was hot; you felt like it was on fire. Minimal movements of his tongue and lips were enough to have you shivering and whimpering, only intensifying the difficulty of remaining still.

You couldn't help yourself when you moved your hands to your pussy, pressing your fingers against your clit. The slight touch was enough to send a multitude of shockwaves throughout your body. It almost felt too sensitive; all of your senses were going haywire.

No matter how stupid the thought was, you hoped Lucas wouldn't take notice of the way your fingers rubbed your swollen nub. Subtlety was going out the door as you picked up the pace, moaning and desperate for an orgasm, though your wrists were soon seized by Lucas, gripping them tightly as he placed your hands on his desk.

Lucas clicked his tongue. "Keep bein' like that, and I'll fuckin' tie you up an' leave ya hangin'. S'that whatcha want, darlin'?"

When you didn't answer him, Lucas wrapped a large hand around your neck. Although not restricting airflow, he made sure to assert his dominance over you.

"Is it?" He pressed.

"No…"

"That's what I thought," he said, removing his hand from your throat. "Now, you're gonna keep your hands on the desk. Think you can hold fer another five minutes?"

"I don't know… maybe?" You said.

"Don't touch yourself, and don't try to ride mah dick. If you can hold still fer another five minutes, I'll give you what you want," Lucas said, thrusting into you for emphasis. "Think you can handle that?"

You nodded, humming since you didn't trust your voice for the moment. You were torn between crying in desperation at the thought of having to wait any longer, and crying for joy because it was just five minutes. You could handle that, right?

But Lucas wasn't making it easy for you to sit still. He whispered absolute filth to you, making sure you felt his warm breath on your ear as he told you what he'd do to you, how he'd break you and make you scream with pleasure.

His fingers dug into your thighs, thumbs ghosting over your puffy lips and giving your clit some very soft flicks that left you dying for more touch. His hands would slither up your body to grip at your breasts, making sure to take your nipples between his fingers.

Everything he said and did made it a challenge for you to keep nesting his cock. How the hell could you stay calm with Lucas pushing your limits like he was?

Through sheer willpower, you survived the five minutes; the reward at the end of those five minutes motivated you to play along Lucas' little game.

"Atta girl," Lucas cooed.

He pushed you up as he stood from his chair as well, keeping you bent over his desk. One hand gripped at your hips while the other was pressed between your shoulder blades.

'Finally,' was all you could think.

#fanfiction #lucas baker #lucas baker x reader #reader insert #requests #resident evil 7 #ficlet #drabble #nsft #female reader

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