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deepdarkdelights · 2 years ago

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Milliseconds (2) | 10 Series Drabbles

Fic Type: Drabble

Word Count: ~3k

Series: 10 Seconds

Takes place almost directly after the end of the series (part 5).

Summary: The MC has a sudden snap to clarity after hearing about the miraculous escape of another woman who was in a similar position as herself.

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Kidnapping, Stalking, Anxiety Symptoms, Fear, Mentions of Drugging, Jungkook has baby fever, MC rationalizing toxic and harmful behavior

A/N: Hello! So the votes spoke very loud and clear that you all wanted a 10 Series Drabble! I have been thinking about writing a scenario like this one and I am pretty happy with it so I hope that you guys are too. I believe an anon did give me this idea (updated credit below 12/8) The Jin fic is taking me such a long time and I really wanted to post something as a treat for all of you before finals week - I hope this delivers on that! I love you all and I can’t wait to see your reactions in the comments and my inbox 💜💜💜

Prompt Credit: @mochi13

Drabble (1)

It felt like you had been living in a dream state for the longest time now.

Every thought, every memory was cloudy with a dreamy haze and tinted in shades of rose. The best way to explain it was that you were operating almost entirely on autopilot, especially when Jungkook wasn’t home.

But even in those moments when you were together, you never felt total clarity. Your relationship felt like a dream as well - the stuff of cheap romance novels and teen movies. The very thing that women, and some men alike, craved and dreamt of. No one’s life was meant to be this perfect and that should have been a clue. But the red flags that once waved proudly in front of your face were steeped in shades of gray - you had gone colorblind to his faults.

And honestly, you could understand how that happened. Ever since the two of you had returned to the city and you had slowly introduced your family back into your life a sense of normalcy had unknowingly descended upon your fragile mind. Those unbearable months of isolation in the woods have become lost, buried in the trenches of your mind. And the way he acted now, how he held you, cherished you, loved you, it was easy to become blinded.

You had succumbed to your worst fear and you didn’t even know it.

Even now you melted into his touch. His strong hands settled on your waist as he pulled you back into his chest, his chin coming down to rest upon the slope of your shoulder - notching together like two perfect puzzle pieces.

“Good morning, baby,” He whispered, his voice low and laden with sleep as he nuzzled further into your skin.

“Morning,” You mumbled back with a wisp of a smile on your lips, your hands busy with finishing up breakfast.

Jungkook never asked you to do that for him, in fact, oftentimes he was the one offering to care for you. But months of training from his mother had adhered stronger than you had anticipated. You rose earlier than you used to, your body doing the work for you without your input. It was hard to say if you derived joy from the task, but you knew joy when his pleased smile would spark warmth in your chest.

Jungkook was far too hesitant to admit he did enjoy it when you did these things, domestic things. He didn’t want to make you think he needed a mother - after all he wanted you, a wife. If he wanted a caretaker he would have stayed with his mother. But god, did he fantasize about you being the mother of his children. He dreamt of those sleepless nights with a newborn baby, the first day of kindergarten, and a home filled with laughter and the quintessential pitter-patter of tiny feet. But he knew he had to wait. After all, you had brought it up first, you were not ready.

He delivered a firm squeeze to your hip, his nose brushing at the column of your throat as he let out a pleased hum.

“Down boy,” You giggled, halfheartedly slapping his hands away, “You have work, do you really want to piss Yoongi off by being late again?”

“He’ll be late anyways, you know he doesn’t get much sleep anymore.” He whined before acquiescing and backing off, leaning back against the island counter.

The subtle hints again. Jungkook came home every day from work gushing about Yoongi’s baby. About how she was already saying words despite you knowing she was definitely just babbling and not comprehending whether she was saying meaningful words or not. He was absolutely enamored by his goddaughter.

“She has the cutest little shoes,” and “She sat on Yoongi’s lap during the meeting and drooled all over his documents,” and “I got to hold her for an entire hour and she didn’t cry once, I must be a natural.”

While it was true that Jungkook was a natural at almost anything he tried, you still weren’t giving in to the bait. But when you tried to think about why you didn’t want a child your mind wandered elsewhere and you couldn’t think of a good reason not to. There was some block, some important answer hidden right around the corner but every time you tried to reach out to it, it darted away and stayed just out of reach.

“The quicker you get going the sooner you’ll be home,” You reminded him as you turned the burners on the stove off.

“I could just take the day off again,” He said with a pout.

“No, you just took a week off. You’re the CFO Jungkook you know better,” You chided him.

Jungkook had just taken the week off, declaring the two of you were having a staycation. Said staycation had really just been the two of you redecorating your shared living space, binging dramas, and fucking like rabbits - which had not been your idea but you hadn’t exactly been against it. In fact, you were laid against a few things that week.

You probably should have made the assumption that he had baby fever sooner.

But if you needed anything it was for him to go to work, you needed the break, all of you needed the break. Some parts of you more than others.

“Fine,” He groaned, “But I deserve a reward.”

“Really and what kind of reward are you thinking of?”

“You.”

“Mhm?”

“On my face.”

“...Get out of my house Jeon Jungkook!”

“I didn’t hear a no!” He impishly called over his shoulder as he headed for your bedroom, retrieving and dressing in the clothes you had laid out for him the night before.

You buried your face in your hands as your skin heated up with shame and another feeling you refused to recognize. Jeon Jungkook was going to be the death of you if he didn’t leave that very minute.

Luckily for you, the rest of your shared morning went by without further incident. The sanctity of your kitchen was unsullied by his frankly ravenous sex drive that certainly had come out of the blue.

Unlike last week.

“Baby, where’s my kiss goodbye?” He called from the door after slipping on his shoes.

And like the good wife that you were, you met him at the door, smoothed down the collar of his shirt and the front of his jacket, and popped up onto your toes to give him a kiss. Jungkook has many traits, but his most prominent one was that he never did anything halfway. But even with this knowledge you were still startled by the touch of his fingers to your jaw and the way he tilted your head, deepening the kiss in a way that was far too much this early in the morning.

And then he gave you that smirk of his, that mischievous smile with a quirk of one of his dark eyebrows after leaving you absolutely breathless.

“I love you, I’ll be thinking of you all day. And, don’t forget about my reward,” He said with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows before you were shoving him out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

By all means, your morning had gone normally, just the way it had for the past few weeks since you had officially moved into the apartment as Jungkook’s wife. You had no inkling or hint of an idea that today would be any different.

But it was the little things that you hadn’t even thought of that pushed you over the edge.

Your throat had been a little sore that morning so you decided that you wanted some tea to soothe the ache. So you decided to put the kettle on and in the meantime, you put the TV on for background noise to fill the silence of a too-big apartment without Jungkook.

You had no way of knowing that a major news story had broken that same morning.

“After she went missing ten years ago, Cho Minji has finally been found,” The reporter’s voice echoed out from the flat screen.

“While the story is still progressing we have learned of what happened in her ten years of captivity. Miss Cho had been stalked by an ex-boyfriend for four years after they had broken up and in those four years, he had made extensive plans as to how he was going to hold Miss Cho captive for the rest of their lives.

Deranged notes expressing his undying love for her were recovered from the home alongside pictures and videos that he collected during their relationship and during Miss Cho’s captivity. Miss Cho claimed that she was held against her will while her captor vehemently disagreed claiming that she came willingly. Evidence suggests that Miss Cho was indeed kidnapped from her childhood home and drugged repeatedly over the duration of her captivity to keep her sedated and agreeable. During this time she planned to gain her captor’s trust and in a ten-year plan, she finally succeeded and escaped - flagging down a passing car and making her way to the authorities. More on this incredible story will come as the case continues to unfold.”

A horrible, nauseating feeling was churning deep in your gut, one that had you leaning against the back of the couch for support. But the final push was the kettle, a sharp whistle from the kitchen striking you harder than any hit you had ever taken. In seconds you were transported back to that night and in a moment the rose-tinted glass was shattered.

This wasn’t you. You weren’t some housewife, you and Jungkook weren’t really married, and you weren’t in love. You had fallen for his trap. You and Cho Minji were one and the same, the only difference was that she had much more mental fortitude than you did. She was successful.

Your body was back to moving on its own, but this time you were running on adrenaline as your brain took the back seat. You were tearing the place apart, grabbing clothes and cash and whatever you could grab and stuffing it all into the first bag you could get your hands on.

“Hurry, faster, you need to run as far as you can before Jungkook get’s back. Oh god, what would he do if he found you?” Your brain was practically screaming at you, a whirlwind of anxiety and fear sweeping you up as you stumbled out of the door alone for the first time since you had been taken by Jungkook.

You had no plan as to where you were going to go, only the thought that you needed to flee and you needed to do it now or you would never see another opportunity like this one arise. It was now or never.

You felt like you were doing something wrong, something that was forbidden or perverted as you rushed through the busy city sidewalks. It was a horrible cocktail of emotions, to be so frightened and confused at the same time. You had become accustomed to life with Jungkook, leaving felt wrong and right at the same time.

But the more you pushed on the more you realized you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t go to your parent's house, that would be the first place that he would check. And your friends, well you didn’t really have friends anymore and even if you did you wouldn’t want to put them in harm's way either. You knew what Jungkook was capable of, hell you had witnessed it firsthand.

But it was also so unbelievable that hands that could squeeze someone’s life out of them could be so kind, gentle, and caring towards you. This clarity you had been thrust into was so confusing and startling that you felt like a crazed person wandering the streets.

You were at a loss as to what to do, especially as the adrenaline began to slowly wear off, your body crashing from the sudden influx of hormones.

At the end of the day, you really had nowhere to go, nowhere to go but to him.

You weren’t sure how far you had made it from the apartment, your feet leading you to a park bench which you collapsed against, dropping your bag to the concrete pathway.

What was wrong with you? Why weren’t you running for the hills? What the fuck were you doing?

You sat there, dazed and utterly confused as you anxiously bounced your knee. There were so many thoughts rushing through your head that you were struggling to focus on the task at hand. You needed to make a plan, you needed to figure out what your next move was. The longer you stayed there contemplating the more time you lost to escape.

Jungkook was very quiet about his friends and his life outside of you, but he had dropped hints before that his “friends” weren’t the greatest people. Of course you had met Taehyung and Jimin and they had no problem revealing their twisted nature to you. And you had met Yoongi on several occasions enough to know that he was just as obsessive as Jungkook was. But there were others, other that both Yoongi and Jungkook were reluctant to talk about, their eyes always shifting to you when the topic would come up - a promise that they would talk later when you weren’t present.

Even if you decided to leave now, hopped on the nearest bus and rode it to the end of its route, you had no doubt that they would come for you. Taehyung and Jimin would be there without question and you very clearly remembered Jimin’s gleeful threats to you months ago. But the others, the ones that were far more dangerous would certainly join as well and that was a thought that shook you to your very core.

Your panicked thoughts only became worse as time stretched on, your brain reminding you when Jungkook leaves work and how much time you had left to either leave or go back before he found out you were gone.

You couldn’t believe you would even think about going back but you were. Jungkook had been good to you hadn’t he? He let you have a relationship with your family again, he had pulled the two of you out of the isolation of the woods, you didn’t have to see his family anymore, and he showered you with unrestricted affection and praise. He loved you didn’t he? He said it every day and never let you forget it. He wasn’t a good person but he wasn’t a bad person either - he too was irrevocably changed and damaged by his horrible family, you couldn’t blame him for that you don’t get to choose what family you’re born into.

You were wrenched out of your spiraling thoughts but the sudden vibration of your phone. Despite your fear you checked the caller ID anyways and your stomach lurched as his name lit up the screen: Jungkook.

He had gotten off of work early.

You watched in fright as the call went to voicemail before he tried again, and again, and again, and again. The calls never stopped, one after the other they rolled in like a stubborn storm.

You were really screwed now, he was home and he knew that you were gone. The frantic mess you had left behind had to have told him enough - that you had grabbed what you could and fled. So now you had to make a choice - run with nowhere to go, or return back to the eyes of the hurricane. You knew what Jungkook was like when he was angry - it was a deadly type of calm that was a precursor to unbridled rage.

Your hands shook as you tapped your voicemail, whatever was there would help you make your decision.

There was static for a moment, and then his voice.

“Baby? Where are you? Call me back right away, okay?” He was surprisingly calm but there was a touch of fear to his words.

“This isn’t funny, please just answer your phone, I need to know that you’re safe or I’m going to go crazy, please just call me.”

Each message became more and more desperate until you got to the most recent one. This one was by far the worst. You could hear him crying and struggling to breathe and even dry heaving like he was so distraught he was going to empty his stomach.

“Please tell me where you are, please baby I’m begging you, I can’t live without you I need you,” He was sobbing hysterically into the phone, “Please come home, please don’t leave me here alone,”

In your time with Jungkook you had come to learn something about yourself, you couldn’t stand to hear or see him cry. It broke you down in a way that was indescribable. It always took you back to those days where he was broken and despondent after his father had died. Those days where he needed you to care for him because no one else could. You understood what crushing loneliness felt like and you were empathetic to him to a fault.

Before you realized you were doing it, you were back at the front door - the skin of your cheeks tight from dried tears you had shed when you realized several uncomfortable truths.

You had nowhere to run to

You didn’t have the strength to leave him

You were in love with him, your kidnapper

Just like Jungkook couldn’t live without you, you could no longer live without him. He had infected you with love, the roots of his carnal desire burrowing deep under your skin and penetrating your heart.

You had delivered a single knock to the door before it was ripped open - he had been waiting there that entire time. He had given you the chance to return on your own before he had sent them out to find you.

A choked sob parted his pretty lips before he pulled you into a crushing embrace, collapsing onto the floor with you in his lap. The skin around his eyes and nose were pink, his cheeks glistening with tears as he pressed desperate kisses to your forehead and cheeks, his hand running over your hair like you were his long lost lover returned.

“Why did you leave me?” He whimpered, sniffling as he attempted to stop his tears.

You knew you couldn’t tell him the truth so you did what you had learned to do best, you lied.

“I’m so sorry, Kook. My mother called and said it was an emergency, I didn’t even think I just grabbed what I could and left but I was coming back.” You calmly explained, cupping his cheeks tenderly and wiping away his tears.

“I thought you were gone, I thought you weren’t coming back. I don’t want to be alone, I can’t be alone,” His words rushed out, like he couldn’t hold himself together and needed to say everything he could before he collapsed.

“I’m not leaving you, Kook. I love you.”

“Promise me you’ll never leave me, please I need to hear you say it,” He begged, pressing his forehead against your own.

There was a beat of silence before you spoke, your mind trying to warn you one last time not to make a stupid decision. But in the end, the heart tends to triumph.

“I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

You weren’t Cho Minji, you had no incredible story to tell and nowhere to escape to.

You weren’t Cho Minji, you were in love.

Want to read the main series? Click here to read part one!

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tinyletterz · 2 years ago

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♡ flowers of our love— [ savanaclaw + octavinelle ]

: different flowers and their meanings that describe your relationships :

♡— contains: gn! reader, fluff, biting on floyd's part

: heartslabyul. savanaclaw + octavinelle. scarabia + pomefiore. ignihyde + diasomnia :

— [ note: this and this for meaning references ^^ the urge to just put mushrooms for jade was strong but i found a plant that wasn't a mushroom and to make it perfectly clear i love floyd like omg best guy ever loml ]

—leona kingscholar

strong bonds of love and levity — larkspur: when you're dealing with stressful events, he tries to joke about it in hopes of lowering your stress. playing with your fingers while he's drifting to dreamland. the way his eyes soften ever so slightly when he sees it's you who woke him up. giving advice that helps you through day-to-day scenarios. sharing stories of when you were younger, the good and the bad. leona often drags you to nap with him in the warmth of the botanical garden, away from other eyes. he makes intense eye contact with those piercing green eyes while a shit-eating grin adorns his face. lazy kisses to your forehead after he wakes up. always reminding him you love him, and though he rolls his eyes he never forgets.

—ruggie bucchi

pure love and wishes — dandelion: gifting you handmade presents whenever he feels like it. the way his heart flutters when you offer do do some of his chores. sharing hopes and dreams together under the starry night sky. stealing kisses from each other became the most frequent game between the two of you. ruggie loves it when you play with his hair. he brushes off compliments but he keeps them close to his heart when they're from you. cooking family recipes together in the kitchen. the way he delicately places a flower crown atop your head. subtly trying to take your things only for you to scold him softly. volunteering to help the kids where he lives and ruggie can't help but admire how you make the other children smile.

—jack howl

loyal love and i'll never tell — daisy: always being by your side when you need him. the way jack laughs when you tell him something funny. being the person to confide in when the other needs someone to talk to. teasing jack about his tail wagging despite him saying it isn't. jack is more independent so he rarely asks for help, though he never has a problem if you want to help him with something. warm hugs that make you want to melt into jack's hold. the embarrassed look he wears when he tells you something romantic. preferring to say your actual name rather than a name of endearment because there's something intimate about saying your name.

—azul ashengrotto

arden love — balsam: azul can never seem to find the right words to say and ends up a flustered mess. having dates in the mostro lounge. jade and floyd teasing azul around you while azul's face turns pink. if he's talking too much a simple kiss should keep him quiet for a while. listening to him ramble about business even if the topic bores you. azul adores calling you dear and love that you may think he forgot your name. assisting you with homework but his help doesn't come for free. telling him that he's worth every ounce of your love and care when he starts to spiral. on days he doesn't see you, he always makes it a point to call you or even drops his plans to meet with you.

—jade leech

admiration and solitude — heather: sly remarks and comments that cause your heart to flutter. jade entertains every conversation with you and let’s you know he’s listening with a nod. walks through the botanical garden to show you what he recently grew. when you ask jade about his hobbies, his eyes widen, and you listen to him talk. helping out at the lounge on busy days. teasing you with his signature grin. if you manage to surprise him his ears turn light pink (firm believer that his ears turn red when embarrassed). holding hands while walking through the hallways to class together. creating terrariums together in jade's bedroom so you can take care of your own little ecosystem.

—floyd leech

you're adorable — white camellia: skipping class to find you because time spent without you is dull. he always steals you to bring you to the mostro lounge. floyd's grin and laugh when he catches you off guard. holding you tightly on bad days until he's 100% certain you're feeling better. biting your skin, not enough to break skin, is just another way he shows you he cares. gifting each other random things because they remind you of one another. him telling you you're cute while you're doing anything. floyd always picks up the phone when you call him, even on days when his mood is sour, and your voice brightens his day. affectionate pet names that your classmates do question. doing all the "cheesy-romantic human" things together.

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theagent470 · 1 year ago

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A short story example

Stella's slip up

She still had a hard time believing her luck, after years in an unsuccessful relationship Stella was finally happy. Her ex-husband was too busy watching his company fall apart to bother her, and her new man, Henry was everything a girl could dream of. Wealthy, successful, strong, ruggedly handsome and yet still caring and attentive to her needs. They had only met through a chance meeting at the beach, after she helped his dog, but the chemistry had been almost immediate, after some fumbling of words on her part. He had offered to take her out for a meal to repay her kindness to his canine companion and had ended up talking late into the night.

That had been months ago now, though it still seemed fresh in her mind, and now they were trial running cohabiting. This was the first night Stella had been left alone in the house, whilst Henry went to meet up with an old friend. He had warned her not to stay up late waiting for her as he wasn't sure what time he would be back.

Still she had settled down on the sofa in the living room with a blanket to watch some netflix and indulge in some light reading, reluctant to go to the bedroom without Henry. It still felt like someone else's house to her, for all the luxuries, and besides, he might be feeling frisky when he got back, and following her up the stairs in her black lingerie, was sure to encourage that. Her sex life with her ex had started as average and only went downhill. Henry was a completely different animal. Considerate of her needs, yet firm and in control, she could feel herself start to blush just thinking of their last encounter.

As the night wore on she felt herself starting to doze and wrapped herself tightly in the blanket paying no attention to the TV anymore.

She didn't know how long she nodded off for but heard the front door bang closed. The security was top of the range so she wasn't worried about it being anyone else. She didn't want to get up to go meet him and was cosy wrapped in her blanket and still half asleep. She thought she heard him talking to someone else but wasn't sure if she was fully awake, and didn't want to get out of the warm cocoon she had built for herself.

She felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her and lift her holding her tight against his chest. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist for support and pushed her face into his neck breathing deep his masculine smells. As he started carrying her up the stairs she muttered into his ear

"Daddy smells so good, have you been working out again? You know what that does to me"

He let out a quick snort and out of character chortle but didn't respond. He carried her into the bedroom and went to place her on top of the bed sheet but she hung on tightly, not wanting to relinquish her grip on him.

He seemed unsure of how to respond then she confusingly she heard Henry's voice from by the door

"You found the bedroom ok then"

She opened her eyes and saw it was actually Henry's friend Jason holding her and that had carried her up the stairs. She was glad it was dark so that he couldn't see the blush she was sure was now enveloping her whole body. She quickly unwrapped her legs from his waist and dropped onto the bed.

"I'm sorry" she stammered "I didn't realise you weren't……."

"Daddy?" Jason said. She could see his teeth glimmer as he grinned in the dark.

"Oh god, I'm so so sorry" she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her

"Hey hey, no need to freak out, it's all good with me. No harm no foul" Jason said.

"Now you're here I will let you tuck her in" he said and walked back to wait by the doorway.

Henry walked over and lifted the sheets over Stella. She could still feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment, but she could make out Henry's grin even in the dark. Unsure what to do with herself she anxiously sucked at her thumb.

"Daddy? Were you in the mood to play Kitten?" He said in a teasing voice. Before she could respond Jason chimed in

"Does she always suck her thumb, or just when embarrassed?" He must have eyes like a hawk she thought to see her that clearly from the doorway, with the only light in the room coming from the hallway behind him.

Henry was still grinning when he responded

"Oh it's not just her thumb she sucks, she has the most talented mouth."

Stella was sure she would catch fire if she blushed any harder but the way Henry was talking was awakening feelings within her she wasn't prepared for. Despite herself she felt a brazen stirring and felt the need to respond to the teasing

"Did Daddy want to show off what his little girl's mouth could do?"

She could see she had wrong footed him for a moment but something seemed to click into place.

"That sounds like a great idea. Jason was telling me early how he's been having a hard time lately and I'm sure a demonstration of your prowess would put him in a better headspace. Wouldn't you agree Jason?"

She looked over at Jason and saw his face a mix of bewilderment and lust for a moment. Then the lust won out.

"Sounds good to me, as long as you guys are happy to let me play"

"Of course we are, '' Henry responded. "What are friends for? Now then my sweet, don't keep our friend waiting" and with that Henry walked to the chair In the corner of the room and turned it so as to face the bed, and sat down. She could just about make out his features in the light coming through the still drawn curtains and knew that he was smiling. Unsure of what lay ahead, but not wanting to disappoint 'daddy Henry' she rose to her feet, all traces of drowsiness lost to the adrenaline pounding through her system, and walked over to Jason. She pulled him towards the bed. He stopped her and she felt a moment of panic, then he began to unbutton his shirt. She could make out the definition of his physique even in the dimly lit room, and dark blur's on his skin that she took to be his tattoos. He undid his belt and removed trousers and boxers in one movement. She could see that the excitement was already beginning to get to him, although he wasn't fully erect, his penis was already looking substantial. He now stood fully naked before her but seemed unsure of how to move forward, so she turned him so he was sat on the edge of the bed and took to her knees in front of him. She took his tumescent member in hand and before she could begin to question herself took him into her mouth. She was determined to put on a good performance and make daddy proud, and felt Jason's member rapidly stiffening in her mouth. She looked up at him and he had tilted his head back with his eyes closed. She was aware that Henry was positioned behind her so lifted herself up slightly to give herself better leverage and give him a better view of the red French panties he had bought her as a gift. At this point the lamp on the table next to the chair Henry that was set clicked on behind her, adding a warm soft light to the room. Clearly he wanted to see more of what she was doing. She took Jason's member from her mouth and licked the glistening member from tip to base whilst caressing his balls. Looking at his now fully erect member for the first time In clear light she could see he was very well endowed, perhaps even more than Henry. She took it in one hand, whilst still using the other to caress his balls and took him back into his mouth. Again she looked up to his face and he was now looking down at her grinning, whilst occasionally closing his eyes and making the odd primitive grunting noise. She didn't know why but those grunts drove her into a deeper state of lust and she endeavoured to take more of his member into her mouth, whilst pumping faster at the root of his cock.

"You weren't joking, she really does have a talented mouth." Jason said in a raspy voice.

"Would I lie to you about such a thing?" Henry responded. Stella had mixed feelings about being talked about like an object but remained focused on proving how good she was.

"Why don't we make the girl a bit more comfortable, lie down on the bed, there's a good girl" Henry cooed at Stella. She did as instructed and led down on the bed, rearranging the pillows to prop herself up. Jason moved himself so that she could carry on with her ministrations. As she led there focused on giving Jason a blowjob she would never forget she felt a pair of hands pulling her pants down. She lifted her ass to make it easier and they quickly came away. For a moment she felt exposed and vulnerable but trusted Henry and within moments felt him slowly kissing a track up the inside of her thigh. As his course stubble tickled her delicate flesh she felt a brief quiver pass through her body before he even reached her pussy.

He gently kissed at her clit before licking his way up and down, his experienced tongue exploring her. She stopped sucking on Jason to gasp as Henry's tongue explored and he slid a finger inside of her already wet pussy.

At this Jason took a firm grasp of her hair from the root, clearly knowing what he was doing and guided his cock back into her mouth. The arousal was growing strong with Stella now and she determined to began to pump hard at the root of Jason's cock whilst mixing between sucking and teasing his tip with her tongue, he let out a deep groan and she pumped as fast as she could at the base of his throbbing member and felt him explode inside her mouth. She slowed her pumping but didn't stop and he seemed to come forever leaving her no choice but to swallow it down. She delicately withdrew his depleting member and gave him a final lick looking up into eyes once more. They were glazed over in a post orgasm haze and he seemed weak in the legs.

"You really weren't joking about her talents were you" he said to Henry, who was now teasing her clit with his tongue, still just teasing her with a single digit. Henry stopped and looked up

" Told you, daddy's little girl is the best cock sucker there is. Think she deserves something special for her efforts?"

"Oh what did you have planned for me daddy?" Stella uttered. She knew what she wanted at this point was a cock deep in her wet pussy and didn't care which, though Jason probably needed a while to recover after the amount he had just came.

Henry gently removed his finger with a final kiss on her clit and stood.

"Up you get baby girl". He instructed firmly. Jason walked over to the chair where Henry had sat himself earlier and sat watching. Stella rose to her feet slightly unsteadily and confused. She hadn't even noticed that Henry had disrobed so intent she had been on impressing Jason. He led himself on the bed, his erect penis standing proud.

"I think you're ready for this don't you my sweet?"

She nodded, a little apprehensive about the show she would be giving Jason, but her pussy was yearning to be filled after all this foreplay.

She climbed on top of Henry and slowly took his member deep into her wet pussy. As always he felt amazing but she couldn't help but think how Jason would feel inside her after all the attention she had given it. She had never been so bold before, but right now she was feeling positively wanton. She began to slowly bounce on Henry's cock, arching her back and chancing a peak back over her shoulder. To her amazement it looked like Jason was already heading back towards an erection and he stared intently at her ass as she bounced it on Henry's pole. Perhaps feeling a little threatened, Henry slid his fingers through the roots of her hair and turned her head to be facing him and pulling her into a passionate kiss. Stella was awash with conflicting emotions, she passionately loved this man she was astride off but felt a strange pull to please the other man in the room. She had never sensed any insecurity in Henry before but the way he had reacted when she looked back had angered her a little, she felt a touch of possessiveness, which whilst normally reassuring had aroused a touch of anger in her. Still he was her man and she wanted to reassure him and so returned the passion of his kiss along with a small quickening of pace and a flex of her pelvic floor. She felt him groan as she did this and maintained the pace. She leaned backwards and slipped the straps down off her lingerie to reveal her breasts which she knew he loved. Teasing her piercings with his tongue was a favourite pastime of his.

She leaned forward once more so her breast hung tantalisingly over his face. He let out an extremely uncharacteristic whimper and she looked at his face to see her eyes were not looking at her but behind her. She turned to see Jason was once again fully erect and had a condom on his erect member and was approaching the bed.

She felt a moment of panic, she had never done anal and had always been clear to Henry it was a firm no. His out of character whimper had been brought on out of fear someone else would get there before him. She needed to take control of the situation quickly she thought or this could get out of hand fast.

"What's the matter Daddy?" when she called him daddy this time it wasn't with her usual warmth but tinged with disdain "worried someone else will get the goods you wanted?" She saw panic and confusion in his eyes but she didn't slow her pace yet.

"You know that's a no go, and I'm hurt you think I would let someone else be the first to go there. You should be ashamed". At this point she stopped and slowly unsheathed his cock from inside her. She didn't get off him though and stayed face to face with him.

"You wanted to share me with your friend and that's what we are doing. You know this is your pussy, but it looks like Jason would like to try it out, don't you think?" His penis was still erect and pushing into her stomach though now it was his turn to be confused. He had always been the dominant party in their liaisons and didn't seem to know what to do.

She looked back over her shoulder and lifted her hips to give Jason a better view of her pussy. She felt positively debauched at this point but thought to hell with it I may as well get all I can from this experience. She winked at Jason and that seemed to be all the invitation he needed. He climbed astride the bed and she felt a bit of resistance as his head met the entrance of her tight pussy. Thankfully he didn't just push it right in but took his time and slowly eased his way inside her. Henry seemed to be regaining some composure now, despite no longer being in charge. She could still feel his erect member grazing across her stomach as Jason began to quicken his pace, and Henry began to tease her nipples with his tongue and teeth.

"That's it Henry, tease me whilst your friend ploughs me" she moaned. She didn't know where these words were coming from, they just seemed to fall out of her but the guys were happy going along with it. At first Jason's hands were firmly grasping her hips and pulling her back onto him. She arched her back and unexpectedly he slapped her ass, only lightly but the shock sent a tremor through her. She enjoyed spanking but it was normally something agreed upon first. Still she leaned forward and moaned into Henry's neck. He took this chance to gently at first bite at her earlobes before lightly kissing her neck, then getting fiercer and fiercer, each kiss more passionate than the next, till she thought he was going to start leaving bruises. She pushed herself up, feeling an orgasm starting to build within her but wanted to hold it back as long as possible and held Henry's hands above his head. Jason gave her another two rapid slaps across her ass which made her buck and pussy tremble.

"His cock feels so good in my tight little pussy daddy" she whispered to Henry "but don't worry i still want yours in there" she began to push back, setting her tits swinging over Henry's face. He could have overpowered her at any time but seemed fine with her holding his arms in place for now.

"Oh god, I'm going to cum" Jason moaned. He had lasted longer in her mouth she thought but no matter. He gave her ass another few firm slaps then quickened his pace. She did her best to push back and match him, and she felt his body stiffen and tense. She carried on pushing back for a minute before stopping to let him withdraw and compose himself once more.

She took hold of Henry's cock and guided it to the edge of her slit.

"Now fuck me like you mean it daddy" she said and pulled him deep inside her.

She was so close to orgasm she felt like she was made of glass and the slightest sensation could tip her over the edge but she was determined to savour this experience.. She reached down with one hand and touched her soaking wet clit and gave it a few strokes before Henry pulled her in close. He once again started kissing her neck whilst his hands seemed to be everywhere running through her hair then up and down her back and firmly grasping her ass and pulling himself deeper inside her. His pace beginning to quicken, she felt his teeth graze against her neck in a light bite and the orgasm hit her. She felt it though her whole body, a wave of euphoric energy rippling through her body. Henry was dictating the pace now and the contractions of her orgasm must of pushed him over the edge too as he orgasmed mere seconds after, though carried on with an admirable spirit till she could take no more and flopped onto the bed next to him.

She felt completely drained, and Henry nuzzled into her back affectionately still giving little kisses to her neck.

"Coffee? " he asked

"Mmm please" she barely had the energy to muster a response. He snuggled her for a warm minute before getting up and gently making the bed around her. He padded over to pull his pants and trousers back on. Stella was completely drained but habit kicked in and she went to the bathroom quickly, before climbing back into bed.

She cuddled back down cocooned in the sheets and heard Henry place the coffee and something else on the nightstand, she opened her eyes every so slightly to see he had brought a slice of cake from the fridge as well. He leaned over and put a small kiss on her forehead.

"Good night my sweet" he whispered. She mumbled something incoherently and basked in the warm embrace of the sheets unable to move

"Don't think you're going to get a round two" she faintly heard Jason's voice saying smugly.

"Shh you, let her have her rest. Besides who knows what the morning will bring" and she heard the two men retreating back downstairs, whilst she at last succumbed to sleep, thoroughly exhausted.

#smut

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jinkoh · 2 years ago

Text

we'll be okay

Hongseok x reader

Tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, g/n reader, lovers to exes, SFW word count: ~1,1k a/n: I felt the sudden urge to write something sad i suppose? so have a sad break up fic :)

Masterlist

You wanted this job. You truly did. You’d been dreaming of a position like that for as long as you could remember. Long before you’d even met Hongseok, you’d already had this dream. All the hard work you’d put in to achieve this was now finally coming to fruition.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to smile. Not taking the offer wasn’t an option—you knew that and so did Hongseok. You’d talked this through. From the moment you’d sent your application you’d known what was awaiting you, if you’d get the job. But sitting there, the contract papers on your kitchen table, slowly made you realize that you hadn’t grasped what it would mean for the both of you, not really, not until now.

You felt choked up.

“Maybe I should—maybe I should think about it again.”

Hongseok reached out his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. But he shook his head. “No. This is your dream, y/n. You need to do this.”

“It’s just—maybe other chances will come?”

“Y/n,” he eyed you with a sad smile. “Don’t hold yourself back like that. You worked so hard for this.”

“But—,” you couldn’t stop the sob escaping your throat. “It feels wrong.”

“I know. I know.”

You saw that he was fighting with tears as well, trying his best to keep them in.

“Then maybe,” you started again, your voice all choked up. “Maybe we can just try?”

“We talked this through, y/n. We talked about this so many times.”

He was right. You knew that he was right. He was busy with his job and you would be busy too—there was no way you could make a long distance relationship work, especially when there was no end in sight. For a year or two? Maybe. But there was no telling when or if you’d be able to live together again. It was better to break things off now, instead of leaving with bitter memories.

Still, just the thought of breaking up was so painful, it felt impossible to bear.

You cried a lot that day. You cried all through the night, Hongseok holding you tight. He was trying to be strong, trying to make this easier on you. But it was clear that he was hurting too. He couldn’t hide his tears that well.

The next day, you signed the contract, sealed it in an envelope and threw it into the mailbox down the street.

A few weeks later, you’d packed up most of your things, your shared flat looking oddly empty and cold with all the boxes. A moving firm would pick up the things the next morning. You were already leaving today though, the most essential things packed in your big suitcase. Hongseok had offered to drive you all the way to your new place, but you knew that would just make it harder to say goodbye. And you didn’t want him to drive such a long distance anyway, especially since he’d have to drive back too… No, this was for the best. You’d take the train.

Hongseok carried your suitcase to the car and loaded it into the trunk of his car. You said you could do it yourself, but he’d just smiled sadly, telling you to at least let him do that much. You hadn’t discussed afterwards.

The drive to the train station was quiet. You hated the silence between you, you weren’t usually like that. But what was there to say? Nothing felt good enough.

He brought you all the way to the platform, waiting with you for the train. You knew you had to say goodbye, you knew time was running out to do so. But you felt like you’d burst into tears the moment you opened your mouth. It was too much, it was all too much. How could you say goodbye? How could you bid farewell to the person you loved the most?

There was a clicking noise coming from the speaker, before an automatic voice announced that your train would be arriving now.

Your head snapped to Hongseok in a panic. You felt sick to your stomach.

“I can’t,” you pressed out, already feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “I can’t, we can’t do this. It’s wrong.”

The moment he met your gaze, his lips started to tremble, tears forming in his eyes as well. “It’s okay,” his voice sounded so choked up, it broke your heart. “We’ll be okay.”

“How?” You reached out for him and he immediately opened his arms, holding you in a tight embrace.

“I don’t know. But we will be. We’ll be okay.”

You clung onto him for dear life, tears drenching the fabric of his shirt until you heard the sound of the train approaching behind you.

Hongseok loosened his grip. “You have to go now.”

“No,” you hugged him tighter. “I can’t. How could I—I can’t.”

“It’s okay, y/n.” His hands smoothed over your upper arms before gently pushing you away. “You can.”

You kept shaking your head, tears still streaming down your face.

The train came to a stop, people streaming out of the doors.

“Let’s go,” Hongseok whispered, pushing your suitcase towards you with a sad smile.

With shaking hands you grabbed the handle, pulling it towards the open train doors.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, like some kind of mantra, and you weren’t sure if he tried to reassure you or himself.

You threw a last glance back at him, before you stepped onto the train. You’d barely gotten on, when the doors closed behind you.

This was wrong. You needed to get out.

You turned around, your hands frantically pushing at the button to open the doors again. They didn’t open.

You saw Hongseok standing at the platform through the small window.

You had to get out, you had to get back to him. How could you leave him, how could you—

The train started moving.

Your hands pressed against the glass of the windows, as if you could somehow stop the train, hold onto Hongseok like that.

You couldn’t stop sobbing. You didn’t care if other passengers saw or heard you, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were in this train, while Hongseok was outside.

You kept your eyes on him as long as you could and he did the same. It was over. It was really over.

“I love you,” he mouthed with a sad smile. “I love you.”

Masterlist

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aquagustd · 3 years ago

Text

need to know - MYG | M

06. SUPERFLUOUS

↣ “You’re mine, Y/N,” he whispers, fingers combing through your hair, “only mine.”

prev | series masterlist | next

pairing: sugar daddy!yoongi x reader

genre: smut, fluff, angst

word count: 4.2K

warnings/tags: strong language, CEO!Yoongi, dom!Yoongi, possessive!Yoongi, age gap, jealousy, special guest👀, domestic!Yoongi, explicit smut- dirty talk, daddy kink, oral (m), throat fucking, sex toy usage, choking, spanking, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, sex in his study, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, doggy style

a/n: yeah..yoongi just...idk at this point

∞

𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚜.

You roll over on your side, met with the warmth of Yoongi’s chest, a drowsy smile making its way onto your face when you see him fast asleep. Mouth hanging open, arm draped around your waist. How is it that even when he’s sleeping, unconscious, he still has your heart stirring in your chest.

Kissing up his neck, you breathe in his scent, fingers skimming down his tummy. He groans, pulling you even closer, nuzzling into the crown of your head.

“G’morning.”

His morning voice is something that has you melting into his arms. You always try to get him to speak more at this time. You missed it.

“Morning,” you bury your face in his neck, “working today?”

He hums, the sound rumbling through your chest, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Have work, then we can chill together,” you feel his nose poke into your hair, “your hair always smells so good.”

You giggle, palms running up and down his back, relishing in the quiet before you proceed with your daily activities and become absorbed in the rush that is life.

“Missed this. Waking up next to you.”

It seems like you don’t have to force him to speak today.

“Me too,” you agree, pecking his cheek before you slide off the bed to freshen up.

You see him stretch his arms and legs with his weird leg shake before he sits up, broad chest exposed to your hungry eyes.

“What?”

He smirks, pink hair all messed up, hickeys dotting his pale skin.

“Nothing,” you answer, unable to keep the smile off your face when his eyes rake down your figure, still wearing his T-shirt from last night.

He narrows his eyes at you, then tosses the blanket over his body to make his way to the bathroom.

As you brush your teeth, you’re thinking about Yoongi and your relationship. How content you’d be if this were to be your life. Waking up every morning after a tiresome night to head to work, then come back home and fall asleep in his embrace. If someone told you a few months ago that Min Yoongi, one of the richest businessmen in your city, your sugar daddy, would mean this much to you, you would’ve laughed.

Luckily, you had a set of clothes from the last time you stayed over and rush into the shower. You have a lecture in half an hour and then you’re supposed to head to the firm once again for the follow-up. You were surprised when you received an email stating that the results have been processed. However, you’re still nervous.

When you enter the kitchen, still buttoning up your shirt, Yoongi is standing at the stove with a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder, dressed in navy blue dress pants and a black shirt. His back stretches the material as he moves from this end to the other, busy cracking an egg with one hand, preparing it just the way you like.

Your hands slide up his chest, pressing your own to his back.

His fingers slot into yours, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips.

“I’m making eggs for you but you’re welcome to check the fridge or pantry if you want to eat something else.”

You peck his nape, “eggs are fine.”

He spins around, with you still latched onto his back, to plate the eggs, laughing when you refuse to let go.

“Come on, angel. You know you have a lecture in a bit and I have to get to work.”

Begrudgingly, you pull away from him and take the seat across his, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

“Thanks babe.”

As expected, the eggs are delicious, and you only realize how hungry you are when you decide to eat a few cocktail sausages.

“What was the interview for?”

You glance up at Yoongi, who’s watching you over the rim of his mug.

“For students who are interested in entering their program. You know, after we graduate.”

He hums, and you can tell by the way his eyes remain focused on his plate that he has something else to ask.

“What?”

“Why don’t you just work for my company? After you graduate?”

You laugh, wiping your fingers on a tissue, “this is an accounting firm. Maybe after I write the board exams.”

He shrugs, “okay, but you know,” the spoon lingers on his lips, “the offer is still on the table.”

Your eyes are glued to the way he licks the milk off the spoon, tongue reminding you of all their capabilities.

“Y/N?”

“Huh. I’m sorry,” you clear your throat, adjusting your posture a bit, “what was that?”

He smirks, dismissing you with a shake of his head, “nothing.”

“Can I have another kiss before you go?”

You chuckle, “Yoongi! We’re literally gonna see each other in a few hours.”

He pouts, fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, averting his gaze to the road ahead of him, “fine.”

Grinning, you reach forward and cup his cheeks, tilting his head so that you can place a sweet kiss on his lips, as expected, his tongue swipes across yours, large palm gripping the back of your head. You pull away when reality starts to slip away, remembering your lecture.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, lips slick with his saliva, “I have to go.”

He nods, leaning forward to peck your lips one last time, “bye.”

“Bye~”

You grab your tote bag from the backseat and step out of the car only for him to call your name before you close the car door. Leaning down to look at him, you’re met with the softest look in his cat-like eyes.

“I love you.”

Heart skipping a beat, a genuine smile breaks across your lips, blowing him a kiss before repeating the words back to him. He gives you the gummiest smile he can manage before he’s driving off.

And you watch his car turn down the corner, already missing him.

Pushing through the crowd, you’re half an hour late to the firm but from the looks of it, so are the other students who are lining up outside the office.

The same stern woman from your interview greets you with a terse smile, ushering you into the large room with the rest of the students. Smiling politely, you take a seat next to a student with blond hair, fingers drumming on your knees with nerves.

It seems like what they’re about to announce is to be done ceremoniously in the presence of very sophisticated looking men and women. They start with calling out names and your breath hitches, knowing where this is going. A thousand possibilities run through your mind, what if they don’t call out your name, what if you’re left to turn around with your head hanging in sorrow because you weren’t accepted into the program. What if you’re-

Your name is called and soon after the boy sitting next to you also stands, probably because his name was called too. You join the row of students on the platform, and soon you realize that all the students who were previously seated are now standing next to you.

Of course, why would they ask the students who weren’t successful with their application and embarrass them. Wait. Does that mean you’re accepted? You resist the urge to chew on your nail in front of the audience.

“Congratulations! You’ve been accepted into our 2022 program!”

Everyone applauds, thanking each other, a few whistles fill the jubilant air as they hand out thick handbooks to each of you.

You’re incredibly happy, this is the beginning of something new, a kickstart into the real working world.

You can’t wait to tell your family and Taehyung and Yoongi. And you can’t wait to make new friends here.

Stepping out of the building, you fumble for your phone in your coat pocket, unlocking it with trembling fingers, only to notice that your battery is drained. You’d have to walk to your apartment and charge your phone there before you ask Yoongi to fetch you.

As you’re turning around the corner to your apartment building, you notice an unfamiliar car parked behind your Mercedes. A charcoal grey Audi. You’ve never seen a car like this in your area before. Must be one of the tenant’s visitors.

When you’re walking up the stairs, you can hear masculine laughter, more clearly when you step outside your front door and push in the key, eyebrows furrowing when you see Taehyung chatting to a man whose back is facing you.

He doesn’t ever have visitors.

“Y/N!”

Taehyung skips to your side, holding your arm and dragging you further into the lounge.

Your mouth hangs open when you recognize the man in front of you, shoulders much wider in real life.

He clears his throat before he says your name, tugging on the lapels of his long, dark brown coat.

“I believe we have some unfinished business.”

You glance at Taehyung who is gawking at the man, boxy smile still in place. Squirming out of Taehyung’s hold, you walk to the corner of the lounge and plug in your phone charger, a million and one questions on the tip of your tongue.

Your arms hang loosely at your sides, mind searching for something to say.

“Kim Seokjin.”

He nods, pink lips pursing as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, “can we talk somewhere a bit more suitable?”

“I’m actually really busy. I have som-“

Holding up his palms, he assures you that it won’t take long.

And that’s how you find yourself sitting in the same café you met Yoongi a few days ago, a few spots down, near the window.

He asks you to order something to drink but you decline his offer, knee bobbing impatiently under the table.

“What ‘unfinished business’ were you talking about?”

“Straight to it,” his fingers lock, folding one leg over the other and leaning back in his chair.

His intense gaze on your face is a little unnerving.

“Well,” he sighs, twisting the straw in his milkshake, “if I have my timeline correct. We’ve been in contact for quite some time. And then suddenly, you stop responding to my texts, not even a thanks when I send you a gift.”

Your eyes widen, “that was you?”

He nods, fingers coming up to rub his chin, “and then, I’m on social media and I see a picture of you, a very pretty one I must say, sitting with someone I know. Not as well as you, however.”

So that’s where the unknown deposits into your account were coming from. You tried reporting it to the bank, but they had looked into it and informed you that it wasn’t an erroneous deposit.

“What are you talking about?”

Your tone remains impassive. Maybe it was wrong of you to stop communicating without giving him a proper goodbye or explanation. He was one of the first men you had spoken to on that site, but at the time, you weren’t that interested. Until you met Yoongi.

“You met Min Yoongi in a similar fashion. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” you reply, wondering where he’s going with this.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of the negotiations we make on the site.”

You cock an eyebrow, “I think I’m aware.”

“Oh? Then you should know that you shouldn’t restrict yourself to one. And I happen to be seeking the company of an intelligent, beautiful women such as yourself.”

A chuckle leaves your lips when you catch on to his words, levelling him with the same firm stare.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you where I did. I’m actually not interested in entering another arrangement. Yoongi and I are a couple now.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table without commenting on your statement.

“And he is enough for me,” you add, Yoongi’s gummy smile and raspy chuckle entering your mind.

“So, you’re together now?”

You nod proudly, happy that the conversation is reaching its end so you can spend time with Yoongi.

“Well. If you weren’t together, would you have accepted my offer?”

Considering his words for a moment, you think about life with two sugar daddies. You barely had time for Yoongi, you would leave your last lecture for the day exhausted and only see him once a week. Now that you’re together, you see him more. What are you even thinking? From the first night you spent chatting and dining with Yoongi, he had you. Maybe you didn’t realize it then.

“It depends. But I doubt it,” you smile, seeing the corners of his mouth sag into a frown.

He’s handsome, very handsome. He doesn’t look a day over thirty and you know he’s just as successful as Yoongi. But Yoongi has your heart now and you can’t imagine being with anyone else.

“Well,” he pats his thighs, “it was worth a try.”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry for dropping things between us without informing you.”

“Hey. I’m sure I’d find someone else on that shady site.”

You laugh, following him as he stands up from his chair. He opens his arms, and you think that a hug is the least you could give him after leaving him hanging.

Of course, you don’t notice the man across the street capturing each moment.

Yoongi doesn’t stress over keeping up with the gossip that follows him around, but the image of you and him at the café is something he finds himself staring at ever since he saw it. Even though recalling the conversation between the two of you from that day hurts his heart, the image of your eyes set on him, pretty lips pursed, posture as graceful as a swan, makes his heart soar.

But he’s forced to know what’s going on with his business associates, he doesn’t want to enter an agreement blindly.

He’s scrolling down the page when an image pops up, posted five minutes ago. It only grabs his attention because he sees you, wearing your coat from earlier today and a man sitting across from you. Kim Seokjin.

Blood rushes to his head as he clicks the link and a folder of photos with you and Kim Seokjin, smiling and hugging, blows up his screen. He almost cracks the phone with how hard he sets it on his desk.

He’s been trying to call you for four hours, he sent you over a dozen messages, and you’re out with some other guy. A leech.

Yoongi knows Kim Seokjin, what men like him are known for in the business world and that’s why he steers clear of him and his cousins and his entire company. How stupid Namjoon was to trust him once.

Yoongi paces in his office, unable to focus on his work anymore when your smiling face, arms wrapped around another man’s body, face pressed into his shoulder is flashing behind his lids.

He thinks he might pull his hair out if he doesn’t see you. Right now.

You had decided to drive yourself to Yoongi’s house, seeing his butler stand on the steps as you make your way toward the entrance.

“Good evening, Miss Y/N. He’s in his study.”

Thanking him, you make your way to the large double doors in the corner, sliding it open with a huge smile on your face. Yoongi’s back is turned to you.

You lock the doors behind you, sauntering toward his desk.

“Stop.”

Eyebrows pinching together, you’re a few feet away from his desk, his voice a little unrecognizable. His pink hair is ruffled, like he ran his fingers through it repeatedly. Work must’ve been tiring for him today. Luckily, you know just how to help him relax.

You take a step forward when he repeats himself, much louder this time.

“Stop.”

“Why?”

You glare at the back of his head as he speaks.

“Take off your coat.”

You shrug off your coat and toss it to the chair place near the doors, leaving your bag there too.

“I-“

“Quiet.”

Why is he being so weird? You want to hold him and squish his cheeks and kiss him until your lips are blue.

Finally, he springs up from his chair, wearing a black T-shirt that hangs loosely on his frame and jeans. You salivate at the sight.

You watch him pull open a drawer near the window, but you can’t see what he takes out because he’s stuffing it in his pocket.

From the look on his face, you can tell he’s mad about something. Especially when he doesn’t return your smile.

“Take off your shirt.”

If he wants you to strip for him, you will. So you give him a little show, undoing the buttons slowly, making sure to keep your eyes on his.

His eyes flicker to your pants and you pull them off to join your shirt on the floor, white, lacy underwear exposed to him. Head cocking to the side, he sighs deeply, admiring every inch of your skin.

When you reach out for him, he shakes his head, pointing to your bra.

“Off.”

Heat pooling between your legs, you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it patter to the floor. He watches the way they bounce against your chest, licking his lips as his gaze flits from one to the other. The way he’s watching you right now is getting you incredibly hot, even though you’re basically naked in front of him.

His left hand stays in his pocket as he takes a step closer, eyes tracking his words.

“On your knees.”

Now you’re insanely aroused, you’ve never given him a blowjob before mostly because he loves your pussy so much, but now you’re rubbing your thighs together at the thought of having his cock in your mouth.

He has an unreadable expression on his face, but it doesn’t worry you. Maybe he needs to be taken care off.

You pull the zipper of his jeans between your nails and drag it down, yelping when his fingers catch on your hair and he forces you look up at him, neck straining with the angle.

“Did I say you could touch me?”

Gulping, you shake your head meekly, seeing fury or arousal in his eyes. You have no idea. From the way his cock strains against the denim, it’s the latter.

“Since you’re there,” his hold on your hair slackens, “take my cock out.”

Hastily, you pull down his jeans and underwear to his thighs, hard cock slapping against his black T-shirt, precum smearing across the material.

You grab the base, but he swats your hands away, reaching for it himself and positioning the tip on your lips, wetting it with the bitter liquid, gazes locking.

“Open.”

The tips swirls around your lips before you’re opening your mouth and letting him push his length into your wet cavern, hands laying flat on your thighs.

His jaw clenches when you hollow out your cheeks, bobbing over his length languidly, resting on the underside of his thick cock. Your movements are halted when he grabs a handful of your hair with both his hands and starts to fuck into your mouth, biting back a moan when the tip brushes the back of your throat.

Breathing through your nose, you let him use your mouth, keeping it relaxed so he can slip down further, tears prickling your eyes when he keeps his cock buried in your tight throat, humming around his cock.

“Fuck,” his cock slips out of your mouth, slapping your cheek as you take in a deep breath of air before he’s pushing back inside while you flick your tongue along the shaft, pussy clenching when you see him throw his head back and lose control, balls slapping your chin with each thrust into your mouth.

Your jaw begins to ache but the sounds he’s making spur you on, grabbing his thighs and bobbing your head over his length, taking him as deep as you can.

“Fuck,” he grits out, tears streaming down your face, a mix of saliva and precum dribbling from the corners of your mouth, “would you let him fuck your throat like this? Hmm? Would you let him use your mouth like this? Huh?”

Your eyes scrunch shut when he starts to work into your mouth vigorously, tongue curling around the veins that throb with the suction your mouth provides. You slurp noisily, gagging and choking sounds filling the air as your nails dig into his thighs, gasping when he pulls out and shoots all over your boobs and neck with a grunt, some landing on your chin and cheeks.

He doesn’t give you enough time to catch your breath before he’s pulling you by your hair to the desk, ass pressing into the wood as he kicks your legs apart.

You lean forward to kiss him, but he pulls away, fingers wrapping around your throat. His eyes are wild when he dips his fingers into your panties, spreading your slick all over your folds while you grip onto the edge of the desk, eyes fluttering shut when he starts to rub your clit.

He growls, ripping the material and sinking his middle and ring finger into your sopping pussy.

“Yoongi,” you grip his wrist, hips rocking against his hand.

“What? Gonna cum?”

He reaches into his pocket and produces a long piece of shiny metal, you blink, mind going hazy as he curls his fingers into you.

A soft, buzzing sound reaches your ears as he guides it to your clit, jolting when he presses it into your throbbing bud, orgasm hitting you faster than you expected, cries echoing in the thick air.

But he doesn’t move it away, fingers still thrusting into your leaking pussy, vibrations coursing through your body until you’re groaning in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Daddy,” you whine, trying to crack your eyes open and squirm away from his hold, but his grip on your throat tightens, thumb and fingers digging into the sides of your neck, rock hard cock resting on your thigh.

The vibrator slides through your folds, fingers rubbing against that sweet spot until you’re tumbling into your second orgasm, nails piercing into his wrist.

His hot breath fans over your face, “look at me when you cum.”

Your eyes fly open, set on his eyes which crinkle with his devilish grin. The hold he has on your throat has you trembling, dissolved in your high.

He sets the vibrator on the desk and spins you around, grabbing your wrists in one of his hands and pinning it behind your back.

You feel the blunt tip of his cock prod at your entrance, still clenching from your previous orgasm.

“Your body belongs to me. No one is allowed to touch you,” his cock drags into your walls, stretching you open, you shiver under him.

He yanks your hands so your back is pressed to his clothed chest, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Did you hear me? No one is allowed to touch you,” he grinds into you, panting as he takes your earlobe between his teeth.

“Yes, daddy,” you cry, mouth hanging open in a silent cry when your cheek is flush to the desk again, moving up on the wood with each ruthless thrust, tears glazing over with how good it feels to be filled up with his cock.

“Good,” he moans, still keeping a death grip on your wrists while the other lands a resounding smack to your ass, “now let daddy fuck your tight little pussy.”

Your heart beats thunderously in your chest, walls clenching around his cock as he continues to abuse your cunt in practised strokes, eyes rolling to the back of your head with each tug to your sweet spot, voice going gruff with how loud you’re screaming.

He lets go off your hands to grab your hips, the slaps of skin to skin along with the squelch of your pussy joining his moans. You grip the end of the table, knuckles going white, using the last bit of your energy to push your ass into him.

“Harder, daddy. Harder.”

He doubles his efforts, nails digging into your supple skin as he pounds into you with more speed and force.

“Fuck fuck,” he holds your ass against him as he spills into you, fingers reaching down to rub your clit in tight circles, triggering another wave of heat to wash over your body, toes curling with the impact.

You lay limp on the desk, cum dripping down your thighs as his cheek rests between your shoulder blades.

“Fuck angel.”

He carries you up the stairs to his bathroom, cleaning you up before dressing you in his T-shirt and boxers.

You’re too tired to even kiss him back, but you try your best, lazily licking into his mouth as he cuddles into you, strong arms pulling you onto his chest. The sound of his heart beating has you sighing blissfully, so in love with every bit of him.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he whispers, fingers combing through your hair, “only mine.”

a/n: please don’t feel shy to send in feedback, hearing your thoughts serve as motivation :)

��Masterlist

taglist: @ggukkieland @moonchild1 @mwitsmejk @fancycollectormoon @nglmrk @bex-92br @taeslarityy @helenazbmrskai @kaepjjangiya @yzkyzkuniverse @fanoffandomss @shadowstark @bloomtilweache @johnnys-keratin-bonds @yiyi4657 @selfproducingfanfictionauthor

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #ficscafe #btscreatorscorner #bangtansorciere #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #bts scenario #bts smut #yoongi #sugar daddy yoongi #bts fanfction #bts fanfic

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whoacanada · 3 years ago

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(Hey, look! That Zimbits AU where Jack goes into PR after retiring from the NHL and NHL!Bitty comes looking for advice about coming out!)

“Your ten-o-clock, remember?” April gestures to the conference room with her pen. “The cutie the Hurricanes coughed up for Pride Night outreach? He’s here.”

Jack tugs down the blinds with a cautious finger and zeroes in on the handsome blonde sitting awkwardly at one end of their large conference table, conspicuously alone. “There’s always suits for outreach talks,” Jack hazards, looking back at his receptionist over his shoulder. “They never send players alone.”

“It’s what we’ve got on the books. Eric Bittle, Carolina Hurricanes. No plus ones.” April whispers, checking her calendar. “Well? Get in there, Boss; and buckle up, he’s got an accent.”

Eric Bittle looks up, his dark brown eyes wide and unfairly attractive as Jack extends his hand, Bittle rising to take it. Everything about Bittle is polished and perfected; suit tailored, hair coiffed so neatly Jack would posit he’d gone in to have it trimmed before he’d arrived this morning. He’s pulled together so tightly, in fact, that Jack can’t find any loose threads, and if he remembers his time in The Show correctly, no loose threads means Mr. Bittle’s probably hiding something.

“Eric? I’m Jack Zimmermann. It’s great to meet you.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Bittle chuckles, and Jack’s heart would skip a beat if he wasn’t so certain there’s a huge piece of context still missing from this meeting. “It’s still very nice to meet you in person.”

“So, tell me about Pride Night,” Jack pops the button on his suit jacket and settles down across the table. “What, exactly are the ‘Canes thinking about doing that involves you coming to see us?”

Bittle bites his lip briefly, gaze darting off before coming back to settle on Jack, and Jack is reminded of so many media training sessions it’s like he’s back in Vegas again.

“I may have, ah, fudged the reason for my visit a bit. Yes, we have Pride Night coming up, yes I’m the designated sacrifice, but I’m more here on personal business.”

Jack eases the tip of his pen from the legal pad, recognizing an off-the-record admission is coming. “How personal?” He questions. “Are we talking potential legal trouble or just potential social trouble? Or no trouble at all.”

“I’m gay.” Bittle says plainly. “Whatever trouble that may be. My team knows it, my family knows it, and I want to come out — I need to come out — and I can’t mess it up.”

Jack is grateful for his game face, reaching for the coffee carafe near him to couch his surprise and no small measure of his excitement. “Oh, you mean like I did?” Jack jokes, earning a soft smile.

“No active player has come out since you retired,” Eric skirts Jack’s comment, taking the mug before gingerly amending, “Not voluntarily, at least. I’d like to break that streak. Given your experience, and what you do now, it seemed like the smart move to come speak with you.”

“Well, I’ll be the first to admit my behavior didn’t lend itself to much confidence with the public at large, but that’s why I’m where I am today. Making sure people like you can learn from my mistakes.”

“And you made a lot of mistakes,” Bittle murmurs, taking the mug from Jack gingerly, glances back out the window as he takes a sip, and Jack fights a smile when he realizes what’s happening.

“Are you . . . chirping me?”

“Makes me less nervous,” Bittle admits, apologetic. “But that was rude, I’m sorry.”

Bittle’s eyes are bright. His smile is bright. Everything about him is warm, inviting. Jack might be biased, though, he’s always had a soft spot for compact blondes.

“Don’t apologize.” Jack leans back in his chair, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. “You might be the only one in the whole league right now that doesn’t need to apologize.”

“I think I need to have a partner,” Eric clears his throat. “I can’t come out without a reason, otherwise what’s the point.”

“That answers one of my first questions, gives us a place to start. Yes, a boyfriend gets you points, but not in the way you’re thinking. If you come out with a guy on your arm, the story becomes maintaining the relationship, not that you have one or that you are ‘out’ at all. The scandal is the relationship falling apart, or you flirting with a fan when you have your partner at home, that kind of drama.”

“And if I just say, ‘hello, I am a homosexual’ people will think I’m promiscuous, or just trying to get laid.”

“Maybe. Are you?”

Bittle’s expression turns indignant, lips twisting into a judgmental frown that reminds Jack of his grandmother before a scolding.

“What kind of question is that? Yes, of course, but they don’t need to know that. But that doesn’t — You know, you gave me hope?”

Jack doesn’t quite startle, he’s well beyond the jumpyness of his youth, but he has no clue where this conversation is about to go.

“When you came out, when you were drafted, your cup season . . . every time you succeeded, beat the odds, it made me think, maybe, I could do it, too. I could be a professional athlete, I could play hockey, and it didn’t matter who I wanted to be with.”

Jack knows there’s a ‘but’ coming, he can feel it; so he gets there first.

“But . . . then I overdosed.”

“Then you retired.” Eric corrects. “Two years before I signed with Carolina, and you just gave up. I was going to be the first out NCAA men’s hockey captain, you ‘retired’ in scandal, and suddenly the trustees didn’t want the attention. Back to square one.”

“Eric, I wasn’t well.” Jack defends gently, knowing Bittle isn’t trying to be cruel.

“You let them get to you! You were supposed to be untouchable. I needed you to be untouchable.”

“Eric.”

“I’m sorry,” Bittle looks down at his hands, the table, anywhere but Jack. “I genuinely didn’t intend for any of this to come up so quickly, you’ve been nothing but charming and here I am dumping all my baggage on you like we’ve been talking for years . . . ”

“It’s actually alright. I’ve made peace with what happened to me, what I put myself through, and I wasn’t kidding that I’m very intent on making sure I can help others avoid the same pitfalls. So, what do you need from me right now?” Jack asks, genuinely curious. “An apology? A hug? You wouldn’t be the first to ask.”

“I want . . .” Bittle huffs, closing his eyes and evening his breathing. “I want dinner.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve loved the idea of you since I was sixteen, but now I actually need your advice on how to do this without losing my mind, and I can’t plan my future from a boardroom, so, I want you to take me to dinner. I want to hash this out like two normal, well functioning adult men. Also, maybe alcohol.”

“Speak for yourself on the well-functioning part,” Jack chirps himself, “but I think dinner can be arranged. I assure you, you’ll have my full support moving forward. The firm’s, as well.”

Bittle’s lips quirk, holding Jack’s gaze. He caught the slip, and now there’s nothing to do but own it. They lapse into a gentle silence. Jack sipping his coffee, Bittle doing the same. Jack isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, the puck is at the end of his stick. He flashes a smile. Bittle blushes.

“So,” Jack begins. “Do you like Burmese?”

____

They part ways and April’s eyes are huge with suspicion. “Should we discuss fees?” she asks. “Do we need to start billing? Sounds like it went well.”

“Nah, we’ll talk later about payment,” Jack replies, folding his jacket over his arm, hiding the slip of paper with Bittle’s personal number and trying not to stare as the forward walks away. “I have a strong feeling I might be handling this pro bono.”

#Zimbits #OMGCP #my stuff #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #PR AU #NHL!Bitty #tw: overdose mention #I know I’ve been gone forever here’s a treat to say sorry

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goingmorry · 3 years ago

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hi!! i recently got into one piece and im so glad i found your blog!! i was wondering if you could do ace, sanji, and zoro when their crew notices scratch marks on their back? suggestive/nsfw would be <33 thank you in advance!

[One Piece Headcanons] OP Boys -> when their crew notices scratch marks on their backs

Characters: Ace, Sanji, Zoro

Tags: NSFW, gender neutral, sexually suggestive

Author's Note: Hello, dear! 💖 Thank you for the kind words, and welcome to the fandom. I hope you enjoy your stay. You're in it for life now. Mwahahaha! 😂

PORTGAS D. ACE

This man struts around EVERYWHERE shirtless. Did you really think that he was going to start wearing one now? If so, joke's on you, my friend.

Ace thinks that if he were to suddenly wear a shirt, out of the blue, that it would be hella suspicious. Marco and Thatch would jump on the opportunity to interrogate him, and then they would eventually find out the "real" reason why he's suddenly dressed decently.

So instead, he opts for the "let's pretend everything's normal" approach. Never mind the fact that the angry red lines, littered across his shoulder blades and overlapping the tattoo of his Jolly Roger, stand out and compliment his tanned skin well.

The scratch marks you've left on his back from the other night are proudly displayed for ALL to see. Marco and Thatch, who will most likely tease him and you endlessly. Vista and Izo, who will most likely reprimand him for his bold behavior. Even Pops himself, who will most likely let out a booming laughter, alerting even the less nosy members of the crew. Can you get any more embarrassed?

Ace brushes off everyone's teasing as best he can. Everyone in the crew (except for Thatch) is respectful and won't pry as much. Your relationship with the Second Division Commander is a private affair, after all.

Thatch, on the other hand, hoo-boy. He's the resident pervert of the crew. You know he's DYING to ask Ace for the deets. Give him something! Anything to satisfy his curiosity! 👀

Have no fear. Ace doesn't fuck and tell. The vision of you, drowning in pleasure as he fucks you senseless, so much so that you end up aggressively leaving temporary scars on his otherwise smooth skin, is permanently etched into his memory.

Ace vows to himself that this isn't the first and last time that you'll be doing this to him. And he makes do on that promise. 😏

SANJI

Among the Straw Hat Pirates, this man dresses the classiest. A fresh suit and tie is his preferred attire, so the chances of catching him shirtless is almost slim to none. Except for when he's in the middle of getting dressed or undressed.

Sanji's usually careful, but in this one instance, he's distracted and ends up crossing paths with Brook in the men's locker room. Before Sanji can pull down his shirt the rest of the way, the perverted skeleton's (non-existent) eyes zone-in on the red marks scattered all over his pale skin and his bony cheeks darken with a noticeable blush.

"M-may I please see it again, Sanji-san?" Brook asks, without shame, earning him a swift kick to the skull from the love cook. Unfazed as ever, Brook recovers and disappears with a loud YOHOHOHOHO~ making the rest of the crew wonder what transpired in the men's locker room that fateful day.

When it comes to the marks on his back, he opts for the "let's keep this on the down-low" approach. This doesn't extend to your relationship with him, of course. It's impossible for Sanji NOT to proclaim his undying love and devotion to you.

The sight of you rutting against him for release, face contorted in bliss from his sporadic thrusting, and your nails digging deeper into the flesh of his back, strong enough to break skin, crosses his mind and Sanji has to make a conscious effort not to dwell on it too much, else he finds himself under Chopper's care again.

When it comes to your intimate activities, Sanji's a true and proper gentleman. And a gentleman never kiss and tells. 😉

RORONOA ZORO

This green-haired swordsman's normal attire is a long coat. While he prefers to keep his coat open, exposing his bare chest, people won't have a clear view of his back. Not to worry though, since Zoro loves to go shirtless when he exercises, and he exercises plenty.

Up in the Crow's Nest, Zoro busies himself with weights until Chopper enters the room to check on him. Without meaning to, Chopper's cute beady eyes land on the red marks crisscrossing across his big brother's back and the little reindeer exclaims before he can stop himself, "Zoro! You're injured! Let me treat your wounds later!"

Kill him now, Zoro thinks. Instead, he says dismissively, "Ah... It's nothing," defusing the situation as best he can so as to preserve his little brother's innocence.

After much convincing on Zoro's part, cute innocent Chopper leaves him alone, none the wiser. And your boyfriend can breathe a sigh of relief. Who knew that leaving scratch marks on his back from your intense lovemaking would be so troublesome?

When it comes to the marks on his back, Zoro opts for the "let's not make a big deal out of it" approach. Though, it's not like he can predict how others would react. Someone like say, Sanji, for example.

If Sanji ever discovers those marks on Zoro's back, you bet your ass that he's not letting go of that shit. The love cook absolutely will go through the seven stages of grief, and your boyfriend is just not in the mood to entertain Sanji's ridiculous tantrums. Not now, not ever.

Flashes of your previous night with him cross his mind. You writhing against his firm grasp, you panting from his hips wildly snapping against yours, and you lightly biting his shoulder from the forceful way he takes you. Zoro can never get enough of seeing your expressions as you cum for him. And the scratch marks on his back are just an added bonus.

Zoro may have a competitive sibling rivalry with Sanji, but if there's one thing he's certain about, it's that he's won in the romance department. Zoro has you to thank for that. 💖

#one piece x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #sanji x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece writing #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #mywriting #thot level: maximum percent

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retronamic · 2 years ago

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How You Met (Arcane Women Edition)

My ass popping up like I haven't dropped off the face of the earth for close to 2 months now-

But I brought the Arcane women as an apology :))) Do yall accept??

Tw: Mentions of piss, intoxication, Jericho's questionable seafood and mention of Piltover's council

Gender Neutral! Reader

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Г Vi |

- The way you met the red haired brawler was.... interesting, to say the least. You were a waitress at Jericho's. It was an easy job to be honest, you simply took orders, cleaned the counter, washed up the dishes and helped preparing some of the food, even though you highly doubt it was 'real' seafood, but hey you minded your business.

- On one particular night, a certain someone came up to the stall. You wouldn't have had a problem with that if you ignored the fact that it was closing time. You hated nothing more than last minute customers.

- Before you could go point out to the girl that you were closed, the familiar sound of a knife chopping behind you took you off guard. It was Jericho. Why is he preparing something? We are literally bout to close right now, he can't be serious? Couldn't be for you he knows you hate seafood? Could it be for-

- "Hey Jericho! It's been a while huh? You have no idea how much I missed your salty, sea slug surprise", you watched slightly confused as the girl pulled up a stool and continued the casual conversation with Jericho as if they were long time friends.

-She hardly took notice of you until you handed her the salty sea slug surprise. She paused mid conversation and just.... stared at you with a blank face. It was odd. What's her problem? Did she have a problem with you?

- You cleared your throat a bit to get her attention and to hopefully get her to stop straing at you like you had a third eye. She finally snapped out of it, reached over for the bowl and whispered a quiet thank you.

- If she wasn't already odd enough, watching her down a bowl of salty sea slug was surely.....a sight to behold. You surely made a mental note to watch out for her, something about her was really....off?

- That mental note would come in handy cause she ended up returning back to Jericho's every night close to closing time for the next couple months or so. Every interaction with her was the same, a silent pass over of her regular. For a long time you two couldn't get pass a simple 'thank you' and 'goodbye'.

- Surprisingly enough, Vi would be the one to break the cycle. She offered to walk you home one night, to which you obviously declined. Every time she would ask, she would take your refusals in stride. Probably she wasn't so bad? I mean she always left a tip, which was really nice since in the Undercity tips are a rarity.

- "Hey! Vi, was it? Um- yeah, sure you can walk me home tonight, I could use the company." From here it became part of your nightly routine; complete your shift, serve Vi her meal then walk home with your personal 'bodyguard".

- Gradually you too got better acquainted, even to the point where you got a slight crush on Vi. You tried not to think about that out of fear of crossing the line, and trust me it wasn't easy. Vi had this way of casually flirting with you that never failed to make you blush, but you held firm.

- Your strong guard would soon come crumbling the day Vi asked you on a date. "Um- (Y/N)? I-I was wondering if you would like to go out with me sometime.....like on a date. I know you work late bu-" "Yes." And thus the beginning of your relationship with Vi.

Г Sevika |

- You knew about the infamous right hand man of Silco's syndicate long before you two began dating. Honestly, it was practically impossible to live in the Undercity and not know of Sevika. You only knew her by name till you officially became acquainted with her through a "by chance" interaction at the Last Drop.

- It was your first time at the popular bar, your friends had essentially dragged you there saying "You needed to live a little". They were probably right, and you should try and 'Live a little'.

- You guys spent the first hour downing drinks, doing shots back to back and talking up a few people. You warmed up to the place a bit.

- Of course the excessive amount of drinking did take its toll on you and you had to use the bathroom....desperately. You were trying to drunkenly navigate your way through the crowd trying to locate the restroom. "Where the hell is the damn bathroom in this place?" You whispered to yourself. With your need to use the bathroom, the staggering through a crowd of drunks and the seemingly no fucking bathroom, you began to get understandably frustrated.

- Your inner raging monolgue was interrupted by a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see a quite tall woman, standing behind you. "What the hell did she want?" You said in your mind of course. (Please if Sevika approached me the last thing I would do is catch an attitude)

- "You alright sweetheart?"... Well that was unexpected given her demeanour, you thought she was gonna tell you to get outta her way or something, not pulling out the 'sweetheart'.

- You were unsure whether to answer her because, one, she could be hitting on you and you weren't in the mood to come up with any smart ass replies, or two, she could genuienly be concerned. Hmm you highly doubted the latter, but your bladder was screaming at this point.

- "They gotta bathroom round here?" You had to practically had to shout so she could hear you over the loud ass electropop. Plus the woman was practically towering above you so.

- She bent down and got right next to your ear, which was in your opinion of a first meeting a little tooooo close for comfort, and whispered "Follow me".

- She placed her arm around your shoulders and began towards the back of the club. You felt like some alarms should be ringing in your mind, but you just willingly followed her lead. It was probably the alcohol throwing off your "fight or flight" senses.....probably.

- And in no time you reached the back of the club and were ushered you into a small bathroom. With no hesitation, you ran into the nearest stall and you could think in that moment was thank fucking god....and the lady of course.

- Once you were finished with your business, you stepped out and found the nice lady leaned up against the wall, smoking a cigarette. "Hey, um- Thanks for helping me find the bathroom. Do you mind me asking your name?" She told you her name was Sevika. At the time, her name sounded familiar but in your semi-intoxicated state, you couldn't put your finger on it.

- "Well Sevika, can I buy you a drink for helping me out? I mean it's not everyday someone helped you to the bathroom- in a club no less" She chuckled a bit at your offer. For a moment she looked as if she was cobsidering but ultimately turned it down. She explain that she had a poker game to be getting back to.

- At this point your only explanation for what happened next was that the alcohol clearly took over. Next thing you knew you were seated next to the mysterious lady, playing a poker match. Keep in mind, you knew nothing about poker, hell ypu get your ass handed to you in 'Go fish'.

- It didn't take long for Sevika to realize that you were clueless about the game. The way you played randomly with no strategy, plus your face looked like a deer in headlights, yeah you needed some help.

- Still with her help you still couldn't grasp the concept of poker, and even after three years of Sevika constant lessons, even bringing you to her games. Granted it was hard for you to focus while perched on Sevika's lap. But regardless of how long it would take for you to able to play a game on your own, Sevika was always happy to help :)))

Г Caitlyn |

- You two were childhood best friends. Despite you two being from different social standings, you guys were like two peas in a pod.

- Your mom was one of the maids hired by Caitlyn's family, and often than not you would come to work with your mother. She instructed you to remain in the servant's quarter till she returned, as to not have you disturbing the other workers or worse, disturbing her employers.

- And naturally as a child does, youuuuu didn't listen. Each time she left you would sneak out and explore the manor. It was huge. You spent hours wondering around and each time you found a room or section of the house new to you.

- One of your newly discovered destinations was a room where you heard beautiful music coming from. It was odd to you since the manor was usually quiet.

- You peeped through the tiny crack in the door and saw a girl with dark blue hair practicing the violin. She looked to be around your age, "Wooooow, she's really really good"

- You continued to listen to her symphony, she wouldn't have known of her secret audience if you hadn't leaned against the door a little too much and collapsed onto the floor. "W-Who are you? Why are you in my house?!" The girl looked to be in complete confusion. It's understanable, I mean how would you expect some to react after a stranger landed at their feet?

- "I said who are you?" You quickly scrambled to your feet as you saw her tighting the grip on her violin. "I'm sorry for spying on you, I really am. It's just that you play the violin so good and I just liked listening. Then I leaned too far and the door collapsed, but forget all that and pretend you never saw me ok?" She gave no response, just stared at you like you had three eyes.

- "You liked my violin playing?" Ok now was your turn to stare at her, after alllll that, that's what you pinpointed. You shook your head and told her that youvm've never heard anything like that before. "Would you like to stay for the rest of my practice? I have a recital and I could use an audience, if you don't mind?"

- You knew you should've declined and ran back to the staff quarters but the way she looked at you so....eagerly? How could you say no? You stayed an became her audience, though you expected it to last only a few hours, those hours turned to days, then weeks and now ten years later, you would still sneak over to Caitlyn's room and listen to her practice her violin.

- You both were really good friends, practically knew everything about each other. You did have slight feelings for her but not to complicate your friendship, you left it alone. Those feelings resurfaced when she asked you to be her date to one of her family's soiree.

- Keep in mind you have never been to an upperclass parties, you were very nervous but not to worry you had Caitlyn as your guide. She kept you company the whole time, she showed the ropes. You even danced together, though you stepped on her feet the whole time, she surely didn't mind cause she knew you were havibg a great time. The highlight of the evening was when she took you out on the balconey.

- Suddenly the mood changed as she took your hand in hers. She gently held it and began to slowly lean it. You didn't move, partially cause you couldn't feel your legs and also you can't believe tjis was happeing. Before your lips met, she asked if this was alright, and all it took was a slight nod for you to offically begin your relationship.

ГMel |

- Being an assistant for one of the councillors of Piltover gave you much insight into political issues; how decision regarding Piltover were made and how problems were put to rest.

- Though for others, this would be thrilling to be this up close and personal to this group of esteemed councillors who had such high regard in the progression of the city. But for you, truly the highlight of your job was getting to see Councillor Medarda.

- She was one of the most beautiful and intellectual women you've ever seen. Though you two never spoke to each other beyond scheduling meetings with Councillor Hoskel, or made any eye contact, simply watching as she commanded the entire room with just her presence made your insufferable job a little more tolerable.

- One evening at a soiree, the unthinkable happened- you had your first verbal interaction with Mel. You were busy stuffing your face at the buffet table when she approached you. "Excuse me, Miss (L/N), do you know where Councillor Hoskel is?" You were so choked up by your nerves that you couldn't answer her.

- You made a fool out of yourself just....staring at her. You don't why the gaze she gave you as she watched you struggle to respond made you want to crawl under a rock and die. Thankfully your employer came to the 'rescue' (using that term veryyyy lightly) and swept Mel away to discuss politics, as the regularly did.

- It seems that after that whole ordeal, Mel began to take more notice of you. Sometimes during meeting you would catch her staring, sometimes your eyes would meet but you were always the first to break contact out of shyness. But sooner or later you would probably have to talk to her, with actual words this time.

- "Excuse me, (Y/N), did Councillor Hoskel see to it that the trade routes were finalized?" Crap. You knew that voice anywhere. How did she know your name? Your employer never mentioned your name, they just called you his "Assistant", nothing more. No time to dwell on that now, now you need to focus on answering and not passing out.

- "U-Um, I-I told him t-to but he hasn't done it...yet. But I normally take care of those m-matters ca-" "You do?" The realization of what you just said just hit you. She wasn't suppose to know that. Those were Councillor Hoskel's affairs and his assistanst had no business being involved.

- You expected her to be livid or at least express some form of disappointmemt but she looked pleasantly intrigued. "Your telling me that you are the one keeping Councillor Hoskel afloat, huh? Miss ( L/N), do you mind meeting with me tomorrow?"

- "Oh um, Councillor Hoskel is quite booked for this week, my apologies Councillor Medarda. I can probably squeeze you in somew-" "With you I meant." Now your ability to form words has been completely abandoned. You stared at her with wide eyes, you couldn't believe what was happening. She's joking...she has to be....right? It must be to discuss political matters. No way in hell she would actually be interested in you.

- "To discuss business, right?" She chuckled at bit at your remark. "No, Miss (L/N), being that you are the one who is mainly responsible for keeping Councillor Hoskel on their ass, I would love to meet the brains being the operation. Perhaps over lunch?" This is too surreal. The woman you had the biggest crush on is asking you on a date...AN ACTUAL DATE!

- You eagerly shook your head and lowly said that you would be honoured, pleased with your answer she gave you a slight smile and took your hands into hers and gave the back of your hand a slight kiss before retreating back to the balconey. That was how you met Mel, safe to say you too became well aquainted after this.

I wanted to do Grayson and Ambessa but I ran out of scenarios... crucify me later :')) The Caitlyn one is my fav I really said historical romance drama. Kinda rushed at the end buttttt it's still satisfactory :)))

#arcane #arcane women #wlw #lesbian #sevika #vi #mel medarda #caitlyn kiramman #gender neutral reader #sapphic

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Note

wine: ingredient 44 + sugar 7 + spice 12 for gojo satoru *slams table* thank you for feeding us kind maam

for sukirichi’s milestone event:

the meal order : 🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) your dinner has been served! also bruh LOL you’re a choso simp this is hilarious spspsps

— who are you to deny him when he only wants to worship you?

gojo satoru x fem! reader

contents/warnings: nsfw, slight angst, reader is hot girl shit, gojo long schlong, hate sex, car sex, spanking, riding gojo, slight angst, praising kink taken to a DIFFERENT LEVEL (i want to make people question the extent of their praising kink), body marking, rough sex lol it’s always rough in my stories, unedited

Your friends pushed you out of the club, all of you laughing, hands clutched around your waists as loud, drunken giggles fill in the night air. It was a wild night; your friends invited you to the club to take your mind off your stupid boyfriend. You thought you’d end up moping around, too much of a buzzkill to ever let loose because it wasn’t that easy to stop thinking about him, but even you were surprised when you started grinding with people on the dance floor just three drinks later.

The gals were more than delighted to see you enjoying your night, only dragging you out the club when you nearly shoved your tongue down another man’s throat.

Scratch that – your friends called you to hang out because you lied about having a shitty day at work. You’ve had your fair share of shitty days, but you were one of the most prominent lawyers in your firm, no one dared gave you a bad day. Your subordinates knew that if they even looked your way without your permission, you wouldn’t hesitate to dump paperwork on them, or assign them to the nastiest cases just to piss them off.

Yeah, you were sort of a bitch, but you didn’t care.

It took a lot to get where you were now. It wasn’t easy to be a woman in a male-dominated workplace and you were forced to strip your softness off, replacing it with hard armor and sharp tongue concealed under bold red lips, a tight pencil skirt that accentuated your curves, and a pair of black suede pumps.

You deserved all your success. You were smart, stunning, confident, powerful – so then why did you feel like shit around your shitty boyfriend?

The answer was loud and clear. It bothered you to no end that he wanted to keep your relationship a secret because his family was too different from yours, coming up with a shitty excuse that you were just “too different.” He never bothered explaining, and every time you confronted him about, he’d only wave his hand, distract you with those delicious and soft lips of his until you forget it over and over again.

You were okay with it at first. It wasn’t a really serious relationship; you only started dating him because you saw yourself a lot in him – confident, self-assured, maybe even a little cocky – plus, he was extremely attractive.

But the longer you spent time with him, you were beginning to fall in love.

Yes, you, the ice princess of one of the most respected law firms all over the city was beginning to soften up at a certain blue-eyed man who had magical hands.

But tonight – tonight you’d forget about him.

Your stomach was heavy with expensive liquor and you were nearly staggering on your knees, the only thing preventing you from falling were your more sober friends. The others were holding you close to keep you upright, while one of your friends moved to a quieter part of the block to call an Uber for you. Your friends were all happily married, some with children, so they couldn’t really stay out too late at night and chaperone you all the way back home.

You were well-aware you were being a bother, but fuck, couldn’t you lean on someone for just once? Sighing, you leaned closer to your warm friend, mumbling something about wanting to forget about everything you’ve been through.

“There, there,” she patted your head comfortingly, “You’ll be fine, babe, you’re a strong woman. I know you’ll get through this.”

“But I hate it,” you drunkenly admitted, lips trembling the more you thought about him, every stupid little thing about him – his soft white hair, those pretty blue eyes he always hid under shades even at night, his large, calloused hands that always felt so rough when keeping your legs open for him and you couldn’t even start talking about his cock, he was just so blessed and perfect in every little thing that you hated it. You hated him. “I don’t like this feeling,” you sniffled, “I feel like I’m being looked down on, that I’m being pushed to the side. I feel unimportant, like I’m not good enough.”

“Who said you aren’t?”

You froze in your friend’s arms, eyes meeting with those blue ones you could never get enough of. As if noticing your silence, your friend immediately covers you with her arm, glaring at your boyfriend. “Do we know you or something?”

“No,” Satoru replies coolly, brows furrowed in the state you were in. You turned away from him with a scoff, arms crossed on your chest. Why did he have to be here out of all places? Wasn’t he busy with work or whatever family shit he apparently couldn’t tell you about even though you’ve both been dating for a year and a half now? He just wasn’t giving you a break, and the hairs on your arm stood up when he said, “Not that you have to, but may I please drive Y/N home?”

“She’s not going anywhere—”

“She’s a friend of mine,” he insisted, turning to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You almost melted. Almost. “I need to talk to her about something.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped forward, your friend’s arm latching onto yours. You could tell she was worried from the way her gaze darted back and forth between you two. Satoru was, after all, clearly uninvited, and he didn’t seem like your type either. You always insisted you preferred refined man, men like his friend Nanami Kento, but alas, you were stuck dating this one instead.

“It’s fine,” you told her with a fake smile, “I’ll call you later when I get home.”

You never got to call her – simply because you didn’t make it home. The moment Satoru closed the car doors behind you, you both got into a heated argument. Satoru hated silences and always made sure the car was filled with music, but this time, he didn’t notice there weren’t any songs when you opened your mouth.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the anger and pent-up tension of not being able to hold him and kiss him in public like normal couples did, in addition to the fact Satoru never explained why he insisted on keeping you a secret – whatever it was, you just snapped.

“I don’t even understand why I’m still dating you!” you huffed, legs crossed on top of the other as you gazed out the window. Lips trembling, you tried so hard to not cry, especially not in front of the man who was breaking your heart. “This is hardly a relationship when I’m not free to call or text you as you please, when I can’t go out with you on dates and we’re always hanging in my apartment. I’m your girlfriend, Satoru, we’ve been together for a long time but I honestly don’t even feel like it. What the hell are we dating for then?”

Satoru clenched his teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love you,” he said coolly, acting unbothered and unaffected as ever, but the clench in his jaw said otherwise. “If that’s not enough—”

“Of course it’s not enough!”

“I’m trying here too, okay?” Satoru slammed on the brakes and parked on a desolated spot, hands running through his hair while he breathed heavily. Once he’d calmed down, he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eye like a man. “I’m trying my best. It’s just hard. It isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“What isn’t easy as it looks? Dating me? Letting the whole world know I’m yours?” when Satoru didn’t respond, you scoffed, patience running low and thin. “You’re pathetic, Satoru. Dating you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I thought I was a smart woman.”

With a shake of your head, you slung your purse over your shoulder and reached for the car door. You were about to leave when Satoru suddenly pulled you towards him, his lips slamming into yours. Like always, you fell into his trap, into the blissful pleasure that was his lips and his hands, and you hated it, hated him, hated him so fucking much because you were so tired of his entire existence.

You wanted to let him know he was insufferable.

You wanted him to feel the pain and misery he put you through.

“I fucking hate you,” you snarled as Satoru kept fucking into you, the entire car windows fogged and the vehicle shaking. “I wish I never met you, you asshole,” Satoru, displeased, only buries himself deeper into you, as if they would erase his mistakes and shortcomings.

Satoru’s large hands snake to your waist and onto your breasts, expertly tweaking them between his fingers. Your head fell back to the crook of his shoulder, your back pressed against his hard chest as Satoru trapped you in his strong arms, impaling you on his cock over and over again. “You’re lying,” he whispered into your neck, tongue and teeth playfully sucking at the tender flesh. His grip on your hip was bruising and possessive, and your breasts bounced fervently at how he snapped his hips upwards to feel your walls coat him and hug him tightly and warmly. “Why would you hate me, sweet girl? Don’t I always make you feel good? Don’t I remind you enough that you’re the best fucking thing ever?”

You didn’t respond right away, your breath taken away with how you could never get enough of this, of him. He was right no matter how much you denied it. Despite being terrible in everything else, Satoru knew and respected you, even admired your dominance and intelligence when other men were intimidated by it.

No, he worshipped you. He made you feel like you were a divine goddess when he tugged at your hair to tilt your cheek to him, his tongue slithering to your lips to taste himself on his tongue from when you previously busted his nut with just your mouth.

Lipsticks smeared on his cheeks and crescent moons on his pale thigh from your nails, Satoru looked wonderful beneath you like this.

He was beautiful, so damn beautiful, but it didn’t change the fact he’d put you through hell these past few weeks.

No, it wasn’t just the past few weeks. Things were always complicated with him. He was perfect in everything else but when it came to you, he made it a mission to hide you and your relationship, changing your contact name to a totally random one “just in case.”

Your mind was confuzzled and you felt like you were on the urge of breaking apart from both his ministrations and his confusing treatment over you. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back fervently with the intensity of your hatred over this man.

Your hand reached his to guide it to rub at your clit, and Satoru, eager to make you feel good as always, happily obliged. Satoru kept bouncing you on his cock until you were too overwhelmed to speak, crying and mumbling incomprehensible words.

Him, only him, would ever have the ability to let the sharp-tongued and intelligent woman who never bat an eye in court lose her wide vocabulary, falling apart in his arms while his long length abused your puffy lips.

“You made me feel like shit,” you finally admitted, tugging at his hair until Satoru is lowly groaning at the slight sting. But did you care? Of course you didn’t. You wanted to hurt him too.

“How so, sweet girl?”

“I can never have you the way I want,” you answered through gritted teeth, moaning out when Satoru suddenly thrusted too deep, hitting your most sensitive spot that had you quivering in his hold. “You don’t—” you gasped, “You don’t understand what I feel, how you make me feel like I’m never good enough for you. That’s the reason why you don’t want anyone else knowing, right? ‘Cause I’m not good enough for you, never gonna be good—”

Satoru didn’t let you finish your words, shutting you up with his cock instead. The vehicle shook uncontrollably with your mating sessions, and Satoru silences you by pulling at your leg to press it on his chest instead.

The sudden switch in positions had your muscles tensing and stretching, adding only to both your pleasures with the new thrown in factor of slight pain. You felt Satoru kiss your neck down to your shoulders, scraping his canines until you were absolutely lost. You gave in, you gave up, head lolling back next to his loving lips that murmured sweet nothings.

“Not true, sweet girl,” he reminded you, flattening you on his cock and making you roll your hips while you slid up and down his pole sensually. Unlike the previous pace, the slow sensation of your pussy hugging his cock with your arousal letting him slide in easily allowed you to feel every part of him, almost mind-wrecking at how good he’s able to make you feel even after such a long time of having him already.

“You’re the sexiest and most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, the best, the absolute blessing of my life, and I just want to protect you, sweet girl. You’re too precious for me to lose,” Satoru kept mumbling over and over again.

You could no longer process his words functionally, not when he’s slamming you down his length like that and burying himself in you as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Satoru’s hands were still curious, appreciative and gentle as he runs his hands, dipping into all your curves and pressing into your most sensitive spots the way you liked it.

“You’re always so good for me so no, sweet girl, never gonna let you go, not when you’re so perfect for me,” Satoru eased your worries – temporarily – with his words, and you’d believe his lie, you’d fall into the same mistakes over and over again because you were just that weak and powerless when it came to him. “You’re made just for me, sweet girl, you’re the prettiest and your pussy is the prettiest – I worship you, I adore you. You’re so divine.”

You blamed it all on your ego.

He praised you so well, made you feel so good and always placed you on top of the world when he’s inside you like this. Even if you knew he’d knock you down the pedestal just hours later, you opened your doors for him all over again.

Satoru knew this too, because he rammed inside your walls and ruined everything that you held firm beliefs in, his large hands smacking your ass to urge you to bounce on him like you weren’t made for any other purpose than to be the woman he adored.

You lied to yourself – you always did – but did you care? So what if you couldn’t be the one he really loved? What did it all matter when you were the one he worshipped?

For the sake of the praise and the compliments, you’d let him fuck you and play with your heart over and over again. It was a toxic routine you’d never get tired of, and you no longer complained, forgetting about everything he’d done and every heartbreak he caused you because he was there, whispering into your ears how good you made him feel and how you were the only one made to take him, and you didn’t care. Not anymore – not when you were worshipped.

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forestlingincorporated · 4 years ago

Text

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People.

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them.

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent.

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.)

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction.

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children.

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically.

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation.

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear.

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect.

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?)

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but...

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7.

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.)

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics.

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two.

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about.

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural.

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries.

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance.

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other.

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent.

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart.

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist.

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well.

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child.

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive.

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you.

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt.

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh...

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating?

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting.

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t.

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so.

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet.

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom.

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought.

#Tim Drake #janet drake #jack drake #robin #Red Robin #character analysis

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outerbankies · 3 years ago

Text

new light part 4: underneath the moonlight — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: you and rafe meet the parents (properly) and go to midsummers together, but not everyone is as smitten with your relationship as you two are.

pairing: rafe x kook reader

warnings: drinking, swearing

a/n: say hello to a few characters (tw: ward) i have had yet to feature thus far 🤗 more of y/n being besties with kelce (and topper this time—our fave obx himbo) there’s a lil drama in this part y’all... into the thick of it. thanks for all the feedback 💖not canon rafe

my writing

yeah if you give me just one night, to meet you underneath the moonlight

You’re startled awake by a loud knock on your bedroom door. You’re squished between 6 feet and 3 inches worth of boy and the pink wall your bed is pushed up against. Rafe always insisted on laying on your outer side, closest to the door of your bedroom. Which means you often woke up pressed into the wall, your neck sometimes aching from the awkward angle. Not to mention Wilbur always taking up the space at your feet, Rafe usually nudging him into your space so he could stretch out.

Rafe stirs also, making sleepy noises and stretching his legs where they hang off the end of your bed. He grumbles and smacks his lips together a few times, your hand instinctively coming to rub along his jaw. His eyes flutter open as the sun streams in through your window, illuminating the hint of golden stubble on his chin. You’d only slept over together a few times, since you were both staying with your parents for the summer, so it’s always nice to wake up with your boy in your bed.

Oh fuck. Your boy is in your bed.

Rafe's eyes widen at the same time as yours.

“Oh shit, we fell asleep?” he whispers, head whipping around your room.

“Fuck, you have to hide right now,” you whisper, stumbling through your thoughts sleepily.

Another knock sounds from the door.

You extract yourself from your spot between Rafe and the wall, his hands guiding you by your hips as you tumble over him.

“Just, fuck, just like—get under the covers or something. God, I hope it’s not my dad,” you whisper.

“Me too,” he says, slinking into the gap between your bed and the wall as best he can, covering his face with a pillow.

You check that he’s concealed enough, turning to open the door just the slightest bit. Dylan stands in the crack.

“We have brunch at the Club in an hour, mom wanted me to ask if you invited Rafe,” he peers around you, gaze moving to behind your shoulder. “Or I could just ask him myself. Sup, Rafe?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dyl,” you whisper-shout. “Where are mom and dad? Can he sneak out the back? And don’t lie to me, or I’ll tell them about Hilton Head.”

“God, calm down. Dad’s in the garage and mom’s getting ready. Just have him go now.”

“Thanks,” you say, all but slamming the door in his face. You turn around and press your back against the door, letting out a shaky breath.

The covers rustle, and Rafe springs out of your bed to gather his things while Wilbur watches him. He always starts pouting when he notices that Rafe is putting on his hat or shoes, signs that he’s about to leave.

“We are so dead.”

“You don’t think he’ll say anything, do you? I don’t think I can sit at brunch with your dad in an hour if he knows I slept in your bed last night.”

“Not if he’s smart,” you sigh. “Want me to walk you out?”

“No, I got it. Just keep Willy in here. I’ll text you when I make it out alive. If you don’t hear from me, just assume your father murdered me,” he jokes, leaning down to give you a kiss after he slips his shoes on. “See you back here in an hour?”

“Yes, please be early. And clean shaven.”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t insult me,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Nervous?”

“Not nearly as nervous as I will be if I get caught, sweetheart. Gotta go so I have time to shower—and shave. See you in a bit.”

He gives you one last kiss before he departs, and you move to the window with Wilbur to watch him slink across the backyard, arms crossed and a fond grin on your face. He turns and blows you one last kiss before he disappears around the side of your house.

—

“Y/n, can I speak to you for a second?”

Your dad’s voice comes from his study as you pass by, checking yourself over in the entryway mirror one more time. Rafe should be here any minute.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Come sit,” he says, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. You feel the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Your dad only invited you to talk in his study if it was something serious. The last time he did was when he told you he was going to take away your Range Rover if you didn’t pull your Bs up to As your freshman year of college. You’ve had a 4.0 ever since.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just wanted to talk about the new boyfriend.”

“What about him?”

“I always knew of him while the two of you were growing up. But I talked to him a bit back during Dylan’s grad week.”

As an unruly teenager and the rightful heir to his father's business, everyone in the Outer Banks knew about Rafe and his antics. Good or bad. You could even recall your mom gossiping to your dad, words passed on from Rose, about some of his more... notable incidences.

“Y-yeah, he's...” you trail off, searching for the right words to describe Rafe these days.

“Seems like a good kid,” your dad supplies.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Business, mostly. His future and whatnot.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No, I just wonder... are you sure about this one? When you were kids, that boy was always causing trouble. And you know your mother and I were always so proud of how you stayed in line.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But Rafe’s not a boy anymore. Just give him a chance.”

“I will,” your dad says, slapping his knees to stand up. “But I'm also gonna give him a hard time.”

“Dad, please.”

“It’s my job. Your mom gets to freak out about Dylan moving out, and I get to handle scaring every man who gets to look at you.”

The doorbell rings.

“Please. I am literally begging.”

Your dad draws a fake halo around his head, and you just roll your eyes.

The morning gets off to an even more embarrassing start as soon as Rafe crosses the threshold into your house. Wilbur jumps into his arms immediately, all ninety pounds of him, and your mom’s eyes widen.

“My goodness, he’s usually so hesitant around strangers!”

Dylan chokes on a laugh, and if you weren’t across the room you’d have elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, I’ve walked Wilbur by Tanneyhill before.”

“Yeah, I-I love Willy. Mrs. Y/l/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Rafe says, effortlessly following your lead after Wilbur scampers out of his hold. He shakes your mom’s hand politely. Your dad sidles up to her then, fixing Rafe with a stare harder than you’d prefer. “Mr. Y/l/n, you as well. Thanks again, to both of you, for inviting me.”

“Good to see you, Rafe,” your dad says, a strong hand clamping onto his shoulder. “Dylan, come say hi.”

Dylan’s grin is devilish, and you're just watching on in pure horror at this point. “How have you been, Rafe? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

—

Rafe’s grinning ear to ear, hand firm on your thigh, all of the windows in his truck rolled down. He even popped the sun roof, letting you blast your playlist all the way down the road.

“Okay—I just... did that go well?”

“You did great, Rafe.”

Despite Dylan's best efforts to embarrass you two, brunch had gone really well. Your dad took a second to let his guard down, unlike your mother who was immediately gushing over him. You could practically see the wheels in her head turning, the wedding colors she'd picked for you. And your dad came around quick enough once Rafe brought up Formula 1.

Your boyfriend looks so relieved, hand even coming to feel the air pass through his fingers as he hangs his arm out the window, hand on your thigh coming back up to steady the wheel. He taps on it excitedly.

“Lowkey, feel like I nailed it, baby.”

“Okay,” you giggle, leaning over to peck his check. You pull him in with a soft hand to the other side of his face. “Let’s not get too big for our britches.”

“Oh, I’m a parent-meeting expert now. Might go into consulting.”

“You’ve perfected the sport?” you joke.

“No, no. That’s—I’ve never actually met parents before,” he admits.

“No way?”

“Way? Have you?” he asks, slight edge seeping into his tone as he pulls up to the stoplight outside of your favorite coffee spot.

“Uh... once. We weren’t even really dating yet, but they came to visit and he like, ambushed me with them at dinner. They were kinda hippies, though.”

“Yeah?” His tone is clipped as he parks his truck.

“Yeah, some guy from my comparative literature class sophomore year,” you sigh. “But, you’re the first to meet my parents.”

“Mm,” he hums, fingers tapping on your knee. That satisfies him. He gathers one of your hands in his. “You coming in?”

“Will you just get me a latte? Kinda wanna call my mom and debrief.”

He laughs, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll give you a minute, sweetheart. Oat milk?”

—

Your original plans to meet the Camerons fell through, a last minute staging emergency arising when you were all supposed to go for dinner. You’d tried not to look down while Rafe attempted in earnest to cheer you up, telling you how pretty you looked while you took out your earrings and let your hair down. He'd kissed the crown of your hair and apologized profusely, promising they would love you when they finally got to meet you.

“M’not upset.”

“Okay.” His hand stroked your back through the thick cotton of one of his old water polo sweatshirts he’d let you borrow for the night.

“I’m just really nervous about meeting them. You might’ve set the bar a little too high with my parents.”

“You just have a great family.”

“I don’t know,” you said when you finally cracked a smile. “Made it pretty far on your first try.”

“Don’t worry. They’re going to love you, sweetheart.”

You let him kiss your cheek, your forehead, your nose and chin.

“Hope so.”

“Know so.”

And Rafe had somehow convinced your father to let you go to Midsummers with his family, promising to join up for pictures and greetings later. Your dad had willingly let him, to your surprise.

The event was a big deal to Figure 8 patriarchs and matriarchs alike, always trying to outdo the other in every way, all while feigning some sense of island camaraderie. But when Rafe had set aside time at brunch to specifically ask your family for their permission to accompany you to the event, they’d been hard pressed to say no. Your family immediately accepted Rafe as your boyfriend, any lingering hesitations about his character drowned out by the equal chances of your personal happiness and the heightening of their social and business profiles.

But he’d still come to your house to pick you up, ready to greet your parents in the foyer once again.

He takes one look at you in that blush pink dress, hair, makeup and jewelry all done up this time around, daisy flower crown in place, and flicks his eyes around his surroundings. Your father and Dylan were nowhere in sight, and your mother was busy fixing her earrings in the hall. He takes to your side immediately, a kiss to the side of your head followed by his lips pressing against your ear. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

With the high from those words, you ride in his truck to Midsummers, nerves never dissipating no matter how many reassurances he speaks across the summer air streaming in through the vehicle. “Remember, they’re gonna love you.”

He helps you down from his truck so you can focus on keeping your dress off the ground, assuring you for the fiftieth time that Rose is going to like your headpiece.

“Miss Y/l/n, how lovely to see you again you at last,” Ward sighs, sounding somewhat fond. “Rafe’s been talking my ear off about this, meeting you again even though we’ve already met. Sorry we couldn’t make it work earlier.”

“No worries, Mr. Cameron. Thank you so much for inviting me to tag along with your family at Midsummers. You as well, Mrs. Cameron. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you! And of course,” Rose says, bringing you in for a hug, one you definitely were not expecting.“You’re out in California, aren’t you?”

“Yes, home for the summer.”

“That’s a long way from here,” Ward says. His eyes flicker to Rafe. “Long way from Georgia. Shorter, but still a long way.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Rafe cuts in, and you can feel his hand gripping the back of your dress:

“He’s just stating the obvious, Rafe,” Rose intervenes.

“Yeah, it is far,” you agree. Rafe’s head whips around back to you.

“We’re figuring it out,” he says. To anyone else in the vicinity, he probably sounds confident and self assured. But you know Rafe, and you can look into his eyes and see that he’s not. That if he weren’t in front of his entire family, trying earnestly to impress his father, he’d have said: ‘we’re gonna figure it out, right?’

“I’m sure things will work out the way they’re meant to,” Ward says after a lapse in conversation. “One way or another.”

“Let’s get some photos so we can all enter and the two of you can run off,” Rose says immediately after, giving neither of you the time to say anything else.

You do your best to shake off Ward’s comment as the four of you join up with the Cameron daughters, plus Sarah’s boyfriend, John B. After posing for what felt like hours, the photographer asks you and John B to hop out so they can take some family pictures, the two of you swiping up a couple of Old Fashioneds from the bar. You have to assure Rafe twice that you’ll be okay for ten minutes on your own.

“First time meeting Ward?” Sarah’s boyfriend asks, leaned up against the bar like he owns the place.

“Er—of course not,” you say, like it’s obvious. But of course John B knew nothing about Figure 8 social circles. “Just the first time as Rafe’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, you look nervous,” he admits, chuckling when your mouth drops open. “It’s not too obvious, I just know because—been in your shoes.”

You should be insulted that the teenager compares his and Sarah’s relationship with yours and Rafe’s, but you know he isn’t being malicious. You see nothing but kindness in his eyes. And it’s nice to have somewhat of a teammate in this situation, the two of you standing by while one of the most powerful families in Kildare poses together in their finest outfits.

Rafe looks hot in his grey suit, especially with the pocket square he’d agonized over for weeks before you gifted him one that was hand sewn from the extra material where your dress had been hemmed. Monogrammed, of course.

You’d decided to go with his initials, since it was going to him after all. But your stomach gets fluttery if you think about the expression on his face when he’d received it, telling you that you should’ve put yours on it instead. “That way everyone will know I’m yours.”

Turning back to John B, you can’t imagine how he must have felt the first time he was invited into all of this. It intimidated even you, and you’re pretty sure John B was friends with the boy who delivered your family’s groceries every week.

“Any tips?”

“You’re way better off than I was, first of all,” he laughs. “But he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one. He cares too much about this appearance of a perfect family to make digs in front of an audience.”

You nod. “That’s actually really good advice, John B.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, kook.” He clinks his glass against yours, promptly throwing the entire drink back as you watch and laugh. “That’s another tip. Drink whenever you can.”

“I’m familiar with that one.”

It's intimidating entering the event, a little after everyone else has arrived. Rafe told you that was by design—the Camerons could never be earlier than fashionably late. You always assumed you and Rafe were raised with similar pedigrees, but you're barely through the doors of the event before you realize that's not entirely true. Up until the last millisecond, Rose is fussing with Sarah and Wheezie's gowns, the older daughter making eye contact with you and rolling her eyes at her step-mother's antics. And Ward brushes Rafe's shoulders off more times than you can count, straightening his bow tie for him repeatedly. Rafe just places his hand on your back, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “You ready?”

You smile up at him, but your nerves are firmly settled in at this point. What you reply isn’t completely true. “Of course.”

—

You take John B’s advice, of course, and choose Kelce as your designated drinking buddy for the night. He was hard to keep up with, but you threw your inhibitions to the wind after you got meeting the Camerons out of the way. Plus, Rafe had more business to attend to than he’d let on, and you were getting pretty bored. Not too long ago he would’ve been right beside the rest of you, causing trouble and borderline embarrassing all of your parents. It was weird to see him walking around, shaking hands and rubbing elbows. He’d invited you into a few conversations, you trying your hardest not to simply watch him in awe.

You’re engaged in some strange dance battle with Kelce when he stacks his drink into yours, both empties at this point. “Your turn to get a round.”

“Boo,” you sigh, throwing your head back. “What d’you want?”

“Surprise me.”

“Aye aye.”

You’re turning on a shaky high heel, and you have to give yourself a little mental pep talk to straighten up. Of course you can, though.

“What can I get you, miss?” the barkeep asks.

“Vodka press, Tito’s, and a Jack and coke. Double Jack. Actually—single. Thanks,” you murmur, trying to fish a ten out of your clutch.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the tip for this one,” a voice says next to you. Ward Cameron is sidling up next to you, sliding a fifty across the counter. Your eyes widen at the tip, trying not to be embarrassed as the bartender sets the drinks down in front of you.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Cameron.”

“Ah, call me Ward.” He flicks his eyes back to the bartender, who quickly pockets the tip and makes himself scarce to give the two of you some privacy. You can’t help but think of John B’s warning: ‘he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one.’ There’s no point in even trying seek out Rafe, you knowing full well you’re expected to stay rooted to the spot until Ward dismisses you. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s always fun to come back out here for this.”

“So, California to Georgia,” he whistles. “That’s probably a five hour flight, at least.”

“Yeah, um,” you take a minute to make sure your flower crown is perfectly in place. “It’s actually two.”

“Excuse me?”

“Two flights. From his school to mine. Rafe checked, he said there’s nothing direct,” you clarify.

Ward let’s out an indifferent chuckle. “Of course he did.”

Your eyebrow furrows because you don’t know what to say, turning to look at where your drinks are starting to melt. Kelce would be wondering where you are by now if he wasn’t three sheets to the wind. And where the hell was Rafe?

“Y/n, as far as I can tell, you are a nice girl. I just need to make sure we’re on the same page about one thing.”

Your heartbeat that hadn’t really settled since Ward approached you is picking up again, and you really wish Rafe had been the least bit more concerned about where you were at this moment.

“Um, I-I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“I'm don’t know how serious you two are, Y/n, but I know my son. He's clearly very invested in pursuing you.”

Your resolve crumbles a little at that, your heart warming, thinking about Ward noticing something like that.

“But Rafe needs to be committed to finishing this degree so he can come home and start learning the ropes next year. And in four years, Sarah will do the same. Then Louisa after her.”

“Wow, that’s so lucky for you—that they all want to go into the family business,” you praise, not really knowing what else to say. It must be the wrong thing, because Ward just quirks an eyebrow.

“In this family, our business will always come first. Before anything and anyone else. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

You swallow, catching on to where this is going for the first time. You still go for playing dumb.

“Ward, I really don't think I understand.”

“But you do, don't you? You know Rafe. He’s a bit emotional, he’s a ‘feeler,’” Ward says sarcastically, putting it in air quotes. All of the niceties you experienced earlier when you first greeted Rafe’s family were long gone. You can only gather that it was all an act for Rafe’s benefit. But you know the only option is to sit there and take it. “He thinks with his heart, never enough with his head. Sarah, for example—when it’s time for her to cut that pogue lose, which it will be soon enough, I know she will. Whether it’s my decision or her’s. I can count on that, because she’s just like me in that respect; she knows we have to make sacrifices. But Rafe—I don’t think I can make that same assumption about him.”

“Ward, with all due respect, Rafe is really focused on the business.”

“You're correct, and I’ve worked hard to get him there. Which is why I can't have him spending his senior year of college, when he should be buckled down, traveling back and forth from California and getting distracted from his future by some girl.”

“Mr. Cameron, I would never—”

“You know that it’s true. I can tell you’re bright. You come from a great family.” It’s a compliment and an insult all at once. He likes you because of your father’s business and your mother’s social status, not because of what you do for Rafe, or what you have to show for yourself. He continues like it was nothing but the highest praise. “But right now, you are across the country from him, and I can bet he’s determined to make that work, no matter what it takes. Which I obviously can’t have,” Ward sighs. “It’s just not the right time. You can understand that, can't you?”

You nod numbly and pick up your drinks, hoping he’ll get the signal to wrap this up soon. You’re at the point where you can’t listen to this anymore, liquid courage re-flooding your veins.

“I’m not asking you to stay away from him, because you’re both adults,” Ward says, stopping you with a hand on your shoulder. “But I’m asking you to think long and hard about what’s best for the both of you. Rafe already knows what’s expected of him. He’s always known.”

You look back towards the crowd under the gazebo, able to make out John B of all people. He sees you talking to Ward, shooting you the most subtle thumbs up he can muster. He has no idea. You don’t take the chance to nod at him, turning back to the bar.

“Say the two of you let it go for the school year,” Ward bulldozes, taking a step closer to you. “And you end up back here too, great. But even then Rafe’s going to be working all the time, the longest hours he ever will in his life. For the next few years, Y/n. You’re so young—are you really going to tie yourself down to a commitment like that? What about your future?”

In a tone you hope comes across as confident, you say, “I really appreciate your concern, Ward.”

Ward's perfectly white teeth are pulling into an even more perfect grin, and the sight makes you sick.

“Great. I'm glad we had this talk.” He pats you on the back, leaving first before you get the chance to.

You just shuffle through the crowd numbly, not even reacting when someone steps on your toe, taking it all in stride as you seek the comfort of your friends once again.

You were foolish to think Ward would warm up to you immediately, or at all. You had been way too confident in yourself, especially after witnessing the wear working for his father had on Rafe. ‘He’s not an easy man to please.’ How could you be so naive, thinking you could coast by on your charm?

You’re a few feet away when you notice that Topper had joined up with Kelce again, as had your boyfriend. He’s joking with them, amused at the way Topper is clearly almost done tolerating Kelce’s drunken antics, but you stand and watch for a bit as he scans the crowd, gaze flickering toward the bar you’d just been at. You realize he’s looking for you when he finally spots you, his face relaxing as the two of you make eye contact.

“There you are.” He pulls you in close, kissing your forehead. You want to cry. “Where’d you run off to? One of those for me?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks you’re holding, reaching for the darker of the two. But Kelce is swooping in, snatching it out of your hold quickly. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p.’ “This one’s all mine. Sorry Cameron. Thanks Y/n/n.”

Rafe just rolls his eyes at the two of you, eyes lingering on your face when he notices your fallen expression. He sets your other drink down on the high top table you’re all standing next to, pulling you in by your hips. “You okay?”

If you had a choice right now, about how to proceed with telling or not telling Rafe about what had just happened, your instincts compel you to bypass the decision process altogether; you paint a careful smile on your face, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, all good. Just zoned out for a sec.”

He isn’t convinced. “Tired?”

“Maybe a little. Kinda drunk. Are we leaving soon?” you ask, melting into him. It’s a lot easier to handle his tone of voice when you don’t have to look him directly in the eye.

“I vote yes,” Topper says, gesturing towards Kelce, who is somehow sucking down his new drink at an alarming pace while continuing to dance to the oldies tunes they play at these things. “Like, right now. Rafe, you’re hanging back right?”

You look back up at your boyfriend in confusion. “You’re not coming with us?”

He bite his lip in contemplation, looking around the party. The twinkly lights reflect off of his pupils, making him look starry-eyed as he surveys the crowd. A sea of opportunities to prove himself to his father. Rafe looks resolved when he turns back to you.

“Well... I was gonna stay, wrap up some stuff,” he explains. His eyes flicker across your face, still not pleased with your expression. “But that’s okay, I’m good to go now.”

“No, Rafe,” you say immediately. You take a deep breath, rolling back your shoulders and painting on a smile that comes easily with years of experience at parties like this. “Stay, I’ll go ahead. How long will you be?”

“An hour, tops. Will you take her?” Rafe looks hesitant, still taking your green light anyway, already slowly extracting himself from your hold, Topper rolling his eyes but nodding and beginning to corral Kelce toward the exit.

“I can’t believe you’re making me babysit two of them.”

“Don’t let her drink too much.”

“Hey,” you protest, pushing him in his chest half heartedly. The push barely does anything, only proving your impaired motor skills further. Or that you're dating a tree. “What are you, a cop?”

“I’m your boyfriend, actually.”

“Really? When did that happen?” you decide to play along, picking up your drink again.

“‘Bout a month ago, Y/l/n,” he says softly. He can see right through you, can tell you're putting on a show for all of your friends but you're still not okay. You have to break eye contact.

“Hmm, for some reason I thought you were just this guy from middle school.”

“At least this time nobody spilled on your dress,” he teases half-heartedly, and the memory only hurts you more. “Not sure I’d wanna sacrifice this one.”

“Can you—you guys are the worst. Focus. We need to go now, before Kelce gets his entire family blacklisted from the club. You coming or not, Y/n/n?” Topper begs.

You’re nodding, leaning up to give Rafe one last kiss before you leave. He holds you close to him with a firm hand on your back, voice dropping to a whisper right next to your ear. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

The lump in your throat is growing, but you push through, lowering yourself back down to your feet as soon as you can. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Focus on the rest of your night.”

Rafe still looks unsure, his hand resting on the nape of your neck as he kisses your forehead. “Y/n—”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” you finally admit. Rafe nods curtly, can tell you’re not going to let him leave with you right now. But he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know that if you pull him away from his responsibilities right after that talk you had with Ward, it’s going to spell disaster for the two of you.

“Just some business stuff, alright?” he assures you. “I’ll see you soon. Forty-five minutes.”

“Promise?” you murmur, fiddling with his pocket square. He smiles down at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Promise. You look so pretty. Half an hour. Now go.”

Topper’s guiding you towards the parking lot with a polite hand on your back, but you have to watch Rafe as you leave. You watch him approach his dad, who gives him a smile and a pat on the back. Rafe preens under his gaze.

But Ward must have been watching you two from afar because his gaze is flickering back to you, and he fixes you with a hard stare. He raises his eyebrows, bringing his drink to his lips. Taking a leisurely sip, hint of a smirk on his face. You can practically hear his thoughts: ‘Rafe chose to stay here with me, with the business, and sent you off with his friends.’ It’s everything in you to not let the tears that have been building on your waterline spill over. But your friend isn’t easily fooled.

“Y’alright, Y/n?” Topper says from beside you, trusting Kelce enough to walk on his own as you all near the parking lot. He moves to follow your gaze but you stop him, quickening your pace towards his gray Jeep. “Did something happen?”

“Ward Cameron happened.”

———

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids

#rafe cameron #rafe x y/n #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction #she writes

731 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰ ✰ ✰

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰ ✰ ✰

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

✰ ✰ ✰

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

✰ ✰ ✰

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

#todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi x reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #dabi may be a scumbag but he loves his momma #tomura baby i’m so sorry #promise u don’t horrify me at all oof #pls come horrify me more #christ if dabi isn’t touya we’re all gonna look like goddamn fools #a buncha clowns #anyway this is my first time posting something like this #n i haven’t written smut in an extremely long time #so pls be nice #actually u should always be nice #so pls be extra nice #no one beta’d this so there’s a good chance i’ll come back to it n revise it or whatever idk i’m just sick of looking at it rn #the ‘he talks too much’ is inspired by ch 271 w hawks where he’s all ‘he’ll keep talking’#dabi shut the fuck up challenge #prone to monologuing this boy is #also sorry abt the crazy sentences with a thousand commas #apparently now i’m oscar wilde w these run on sentences #idk i still kinda like em tho #i like oscar #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw emotional manipulation #tw somnophilia #tw drugs

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theperfectlovestory · 4 years ago

Text

You Are My Home

I DON'T OWN THE PICTURE

Information: This will probably have multiple parts but stand alone (?) I'm a bit nervous to post this cause this is a more personal uhh imagines 😂

Summary: It's been a long time since your friends saw you, a lot has change and you are in a better place in your life. Specially the relationship part

Pairings: Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Theme: fluff

TW: none (?)

Word Count: 2,241

"Hey guys" you greeted, giving a small smile to your friends. It's been a long time since you all had the chance to talk together

Everyone has been busy and since you left your original city 2 years ago, the best you can do is chat with them once in a while

You are confident that the relationship with them is strong but you are sure many things have changed. But change is good, specially since you left with heavy heart and full of uncertainty

Right now you are in a good position in your life, and everyone is free, or at least made sure to make time. But still, the best you can do is video call for now

After 2 years this is the first time you've seen everyone. While they keep in touch and get together once in a while. You just were too far, both physically and mentally

"Hey, long time no see" Steve teased and you chuckled

"Damn you look good" Natasha commented "been taking care of yourself, I see"

You made a face and nodded "happy now I finally hit the gym like you always nag me to?" She chuckled

"Hey, just want you healthy"

"I know, thank you. Your voice is actually what pushed me in training" you leaned on the table, placing your cheeks on your knuckles "I can just hear you berating me for being so weak"

Everyone chuckled, agreeing that she does do that

"But in all seriousness, you look happy" Bucky complimented

Sighing, you nodded, finally at the position in your life where you can actually see yourself having a bright future

"I am, finally got my shit together, mostly at least"

The topic then transferred to your other friends, enjoying their presence even just from the screen. Laughing together just like the old times

"(Y/n)?" You turn your head to the voice, your girlfriend, Elizabeth calling for you coming from the second floor

"Darling, I'm in the dining" you answered and immediately heard footsteps

Without looking at the screen of your laptop, she smiled, excitedly tilt your head by your chin, kissing you deeply

Every one of your friends are stunned. Of course, you never showed them any public display, not like you had the chance anyway since you never really pursued anyone for years you were with them and now here you are kissing Elizabeth Olsen

Very famous actress, part of big filming companies, a producer as well

"Damn (Y/n)..." Natasha whispered and you laughed when Lizzie finally realized you were actually on a video call

"Oh no, sorry baby" she said wiping your mouth and hers with her sleeves, you shake your head to stop her

"You're fine, or not. But Lizzie, meet my friends" you gestured on the screen and Lizzie shyly waved at them. Blush dusting her cheeks as she pursed her lips into a decent smile. Your taste still lingering on her mouth

They said a quick hi to be polite then suddenly spoke all at once berating you for not telling them you are dating "the Elizabeth Olsen". The actress, the girl of your dreams

Then it was your turn to blush when Bucky mentioned that she's the reason you never had any interest in other people. She was just too 'shiny' to you, the other just seemed dull

Elizabeth looked at you with new found love in her eyes as you got bullied by your friends. She can't help but give you a quick kiss on the cheek before apologizing for interrupting your moment with them again

"Oh no, you did not interrupt at all. We probably wouldn't even know she's dating if you didn't come" Tony said and everyone told him to shut up

"It's not like how it sounds, Ms. Olsen. (Y/n) is very proud of you, she just really doesn't like speaking about her relationships" Peter explained and Elizabeth chuckled

"Oh I know, that's why we are not in public anyway" she patted your head "but it's okay. I don't want to drag her in the mess of Hollywood so if you can just keep all this between us" she gave everyone a small smile and they either shrugged or nodded

"No problem" Natasha answered "I'll make sure these idiots don't slip up"

Elizabeth gave them a big smile before she left to get breakfast. Once she is gone though they started attacking you with questions again

"Fine fine" you sighed, finally giving up "we met a few months after I left, I applied to the Marvel Studio as set decorator. I was fixing up the set the night before with a bunch of my coworkers so the shooting will proceed with ease. I'm usually just there at night so when she came looking for her phone, which I actually picked up and was planning to give to the lost and found before leaving, they pointed her to me. I gave it to her, she thanked me and that was it'' you shrugged

"Then how did you two got together"

Pursing your lips, knowing they wouldn't stop anyway you told them

It was the wrap up of the filming for Endgame. The biggest movie you will ever work with if you are honest

A bunch of A-listers are there and a lot of demands have to be met so for the first time, the whole movie you had to be in and out of the sets. You barely slept or ate in the past few months. You apartment even collected dust since all you did there is go home, take a shower, then go out

You mostly slept on set. By the end of the filming your body is screaming for rest. But you kept going anyway. This project is a very big deal for you, specially you lead the look of the set. anything that needs to be changed, moved, removed, added to the set goes through you

So basically, all day you stand in front of the set, watching the designers work their magics and you requesting changes, assessing the atmosphere in pre production and etc. and at night, clean up and set up is a bitch

One morning you were so tired you wanted to pass out there and then when Elizabeth enter the area. She was shooting all her parts today that can be soloed

You tried to keep yourself awake and alert to anything and everything so when you noticed an uneven ramp and props that she will unfortunately stepped on, your body started running before your mind can comprehend what's happening

She let out a squeal when she broke her ankle and fall but before she hit the ground and risk further injuries on her wrist that is sure to break her fall, you were catching her

But your body felt so weak that instead of staying up right, she fell on you. At least she wasn't hurt at any part of her body but you were, you hit your head on impact but it was minor

If ever, it only made you dizzy

She stood up and you did as well. You rubbed your hand on your face, ordering staffs to re-arrange and clean up the set so no more obstacle can cause accidents

You didn't even dare look at her eyes knowing those green orbs will suck your life out of you. You asked her if she's okay, also apologizing for the dangerous set up. It was overlooked that she would be indeed walking in heels, boots but heels nevertheless

"It's fine, I'm fine" she said, smiling but her eyes are full of worry "are you though? You hit your head when you broke my fall" she said, even unconsciously touching it

"Uh yeah..." you awkwardly smiled at her "it doesn't hurt, thanks" you then slowly back away. When the props have been arrange, the shooting started but your body felt so weak you had to call your assistant to cover for you

You went to the area where you always rested and slept. You were out for almost 2 hours when a cough woke you up. You sat up, rubbing your eyes and ask what they need without even looking at them

"I...brought you food, and coffee" your head snapped, looking at the voice you only dream of talking . She had a small and awkward smile and shy look in her eyes directed to you

"I was looking for you where you usually stand but noticed you weren't there" she explained, your face obviously gave your confusion away "I wanted to thank you again, the stunt director said that if it weren't for you, I would most likely break my wrist in that fall"

You slowly nodded, giving her a small smile "well, it was our fault for not triple checking the set"

"No no, please don't do that, accidents happen, I'm just here to thank you. It was me being clumsy too" You look at her with newfound admiration, a firm believer of 'never meet your idol, it will disappoint you'. But it wasn't the case with her at all

You are aware of the rumors that she's actually very kind, down to earth and serious with her job. It's a good rumor considering she is well known and if you are honest, you know deep in your heart it is true, but you never get your hopes up high

If only you met in a different circumstance, maybe you would think of trying to flirt a little but you know your place. This is a work situation and you need to be as professional as you can be. She is still an actress after all, you need to respect her space

It doesn't mean that she is being kind to you, it's an invitation to step into that space of hers. So you muster the most professional smile you can

"Well thanks, it's really no problem" you said with indifference and if you are actually not too much in your head, you will see her frown with the change of tone

She then handed you the food and the coffee "I'd actually like to talk more again sometimes" she said, swallowing the tightness in her throat "maybe for a coffee?"

The invitation did wonders in your body. Your heart is just beating a tad bit faster, your stomach filled with butterflies, your cheeks turning red. All the cliché reactions you can feel, it's there but then you moved and you groaned, your body sore from over work

You were so sure you wanted to say yes, but your body clearly wanted to say no. After this shooting, you just want to drop dead in your apartment and maybe wake up 3 months after

"I'm just so tired recently, I will be no fun" you chuckled, exhaustion dripping on every syllable "but hey, maybe a few weeks after the filming is done, if you are still up for it?"

The sadness of rejection from earlier was turned into a big grin. Her excitement sparkled on her eyes "sure, I'd give you my number then"

You nodded and gave her your phone. She didn't even have to ask for a password because you never put one in. It's easier since you give your phone to your assistants all the time to contact people for updates on props shipments and other business related matter

She excitedly tapped her number, saving it as 'Scarlet Witch' and that made you giggle. Using her screen name that's not even canon yet

"Okay, Scarlet Witch, I'll call you when I finally get some well deserve hibernation, then maybe I'll be more fun to talk to than a usual" She laughed and nodded and you are so sure you can never be more in love with her voice

She then said a few more things before leaving you to rest. You thanked her again for the food and coffee before she disappeared

"I can't believe you almost rejected her" Steve said wide eyed "she's like, your dream woman"

"Oh I can" Natasha said "(Y/n) doesn't hit uncertain, have you ever played with her on anything? All her hits are aces!"

"But it's like the chance of a lifetime!"

"Yeah! That's why you make sure you attack when you know it will hit!"

The two started bickering and you all just watched, laughing at their same old antics. Elizabeth then walk to your side, offering you a fruit bowl for breakfast, you thanked her and then invited her to seat besides you and she did, you kissed her off camera

"What was that?" She chuckled but tried to catch your lips again when you pulled away, you giggled at her pouty face

"Nothing, just suddenly can't believe I'm actually dating you" she sighed, giving you a small smile

"You might think that you're the lucky one but it's actually me" she said, pressing a hand on your cheeks and squeezing it lightly "you make my life whole, (Y/n), you filled the space in my heart where money or popularity cannot"

"And you picked up and fixed my broken pieces" you countered, leaning on her hand that's now just slowly rubbing your cheeks

"I guess we are both lucky then"

"Yeah"

Your eyes both glint the same way. Feeling like you finally found where you belong, in each other. You are home

#elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #imagine #domestic

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