#I usually don’t put details in eyes like that so it was fun to mess around | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oonajaeadira · 1 year ago

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Detected

Fandom: Merge Mansion / Tim Rockford

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T. Fluff.

Warnings: Mention of serial killer that targets women.

Summary: Nobody sees you the way Tim does.

A/N: I dunno, I just had a hankering to write for Tim and looked down my list of tropes thinking I might be able to scratch the itch and accomplish a fic for my Year of Tropes at the same time. Something hit me in the right places for a little piece of sweetness, so here we go, with SECRET IDENTITY.

This is really fluffy. Like stupid fluffy. Moreso than my regular stuff. Just let me have my little trope. This one didn't go through a lot of draft revisions, it was just a fun little thot that needed out.

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off, Sunshine? Get some rest. You’ve been here ten days straight.”

Tim’s the only detective in the unit who talks to you directly, certainly the only one that doesn’t just call you ‘hon’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘girl.’ You’re pretty sure he’s probably the only one in the department that knows your name, but he rarely uses it.

That isn’t unusual. You’ve always been the quiet one, the mouse, the wallflower. It’s your superpower, being able to go unnoticed. You’ve never been reprimanded, never bad-talked, never held up as a bad example.

But then, neither do you often find yourself praised or called in for opinion. Never once have you been asked to join anyone for happy hour or coffee.

So many times you’ve been standing in a meeting room and not once been addressed. So many times you’ve overheard something that perhaps you shouldn’t have just because you were below anyone’s notice.

It bothered you so much more when you were younger. Not the case anymore.

You’ve learned to love your quiet life, shuffling around the records room, carefully tagging and bagging, filling out the document cards, compiling files, taking meticulous photos of items for court cases and detective scrutiny. Nobody comes looking for you, so you get to take your time, a kind of professional meditation. At least once a week you notice a detail on a piece of evidence that you might make known to one of the team. Usually this gets you a thanks, but more often times a brush off that ends in the detective later gaining the credit for the discovery.

Tim is different. Observant. He actually listens when you bring him something of interest and asks for your opinion or your second eye. He still does that thing where he puts the pictures of people and evidence you provide up on the wall and connects it with string. He will stare at that board for hours, getting up every now and then to pace, then turning the chair around to straddle it backwards so he can lean over the back and look again, hoping to find the one connection that the string can’t touch.

And yet, even when he’s concentrating this hard, he’s fully aware of his surroundings.

So much so that he even notices you’ve slipped into the room to stand behind him--you, who goes mostly unnoticed when standing in full view of most people.

When you don’t answer him, he turns his chin back over his shoulder, his sharp profile coming into relief against the organized mess of the illuminated case wall.

He’s so very handsome. And it’s a shame he doesn’t seem to know. Or care.

Snapping free of your musings, you finally answer. “Yeah, it’s been a busy week. I’ve still got the Murray case to document. There’s a lot of entries.”

Turning fully to look at you now, he takes his time formulating a new response. “That case is closed. There’s no hurry. You work too hard. It’s Saturday.”

You shrug and smile. “I like my job. And you're one to talk.” Nodding to the evidence wall, you step more fully into the room. “Any movement on this? Sure I can’t help you? Anything I can pull from archives?”

This is a tough one. There’s a lot of speculation as to the mangled bodies in the pictures. A new one found last night, a week old. The probability is high that there’s one club downtown that’s producing them all and a definite suspect, but the record’s clean. There’s no grounds for warrants.

He gives you one more thoughtful glance before turning back to his work. “Not unless you have anything that correlates this last one to Club 88 or to Mike Cross. But no. Thanks. Get out of here, live your life, be free. I’m gonna go grab an interview out at the pier but then I’ll be here all night.”

He’s hungry. You can see that look in his eyes, he’s close, he just needs that one connecting piece of evidence and he’ll empty the coffee pots in the breakroom tonight looking for one.

“You’re hungry, Detective Rockford. At least let me call in some takeout for you before I go? Lau’s number 22 with chicken, right?”

He simply nods. “Thanks, Sunshine.”

“You got it, Detective.”

—-

Your pager goes off two hours later.

Special case. Could use your help. Pier 13.

You’ve been waiting for the call.

Upon arriving home from the department, you’d closed your blinds and turned off the lights, pulled on the dark pants and long fitted coat, tucked your hair up under the black hood and pulled it low. Gloves. Boots. Plain and unassuming in this fall weather.

You’re able to walk out the back door of your apartment building and take a path through the alley as the sun is setting without anyone giving you a second glance.

The only piece of your disguise you truly need is the vocal changer mask, but that stays tucked in your coat pocket until you arrive at the pier.

Once you can smell the water, you take a moment to hide your face, your voice, and your identity under the dark, nondescript mask–a blank slate of void where a face should be–before stepping out of the alleys and making your way to pier 13 where Tim Rockford stands looking out over the harbor at the lights starting to come on over the bridge.

“What can I do for you, Detective?” The voice that grates out of your mask is low, warped, almost sultry.

Tim, for all his awareness, misses your entrance. This is the strength of your powers. Snapping out of his reverie, he spins to find you only feet away, your long coat fluttering in the breeze.

And an awed smile spreads across his face.

Tim is the only one on the force that smiles when you show up as the Shadow. The rest of the cops tend to startle, recoil, not understanding how you simply seem to appear out of the air, unfold from the shadows, melt into the darkness itself.

“Thanks for coming, Shadow,” he says, his trenchcoat joining in the fluttering conversation of overwear. Pulling a few pictures out of his pocket, he holds them out and you take them.

A new mangled body. A hurried photo of a man with light skin and dark hair and blue eyes. A blown-up scan of license plate. You recognize them from his evidence board but say nothing, letting him make the request.

He explains the supposed serial killings, the patterns, the suspect, the license plate that isn’t his but was caught on surveillance near a couple of the dumping grounds.

“I’m pretty sure it’s him,” he concludes, poking at the photo of Mike Cross, “but I’m lacking something damming.”

“You mean you're 100% sure it's him. You're a thorough man; wouldn't just jump to conclusions. And you want me to go hunting.”

“I’d rather you just go take a listen. I don’t really want you to put yourself in danger.”

It’s a good thing he can’t see you smile. Trust Tim Rockford to be the one detective that worries about the safety of the city’s resident secret, pacifist vigilante.

“I’m touched by your concern, Detective. But I haven’t been caught yet. Even if danger catches a glimpse of me, I’m very good at hiding.”

“I know. But it’s only a matter of time before somebody really sees you.” He smiles a little sadly. “I wish you wouldn’t hide from me. But I know why you do.”

It should be surprising–it’s not like him to cross this line–but instead, his statement warms you. Tim has always been grateful for the Shadow’s help, respectful, believed in your ability. But he’s also come to treat the Shadow as a friend. There’s something that tugs at your heart, knowing this dedicated, handsome, intelligent man truly trusts you but also respects and admires your limitations.

If only he knew how much you wish you could tell him, show him, let him know how much you admire him too.

He only blinks when you seem to melt into thin air, becoming one with the lengthening shadows.

_____

Club 88. The back alley. A black car belonging to Mike Cross. Nobody here to notice you but the rats as you duck around the back and inspect the bumper, find a magnetized plate cover hidden underneath that matches the photo in your pocket.

There’s the connection. Now for something that threads the needle.

_____

Maskless and hatless, you simply take up a serving tray and follow Mike Cross and a young pretty thing through the swinging “employees only” door and down a back corridor of the dark, thumping night club. Making yourself busy with empty bottles on the tray, you watch him pay a man and step into a private room with the girl. The man goes to find something else to do, nearly knocking your shoulder as he passes, as if you’re simply a tower of inventory boxes or a rogue tray of dirty dishes…or just some random hostess he doesn’t have time for.

Easy.

You’re able to enter the dimmed room under the guise of bringing in bottle service. The couple doesn’t even notice you while they make out on the couch in the VIP lounge. You simply dip your hand into the pocket of the jacket he’s left on a chair and lift his wallet.

Might as well take the gun that’s there too. Just in case.

Time to get moving while he’s distracted.

_____

Using the address on the ID in his wallet, you make your way across town.

It’s easy enough to slip past the doorman. Unfortunately though, Mike’s apartment building has security cameras on every floor. This calls for a little distraction. Easy enough. All you need is the pad of paper and pen you carry in your pocket.

Knock on door 312. Explain you’re responding to a noise complaint in apartment 313. There is no apartment 313? That’s odd. Maybe it was apartment 311?

When the occupants of 311 and 312 speculate over the possibilities–which apartment was the loud one? Who called in the complaint? They bet it was 211 down there, what a bitch….

It’s just enough time for you to use your jiggler key to work open the lock for Mike’s apartment and slip inside. Not only have they seemed to forgotten about you, but if anyone ever plays back the security tapes, their eyes will just slide right over you and concentrate on the gossiping neighbors in the hall.

Mike’s apartment is clean and sparse. By the looks of the set up of the living room, he likes to sit in the center of the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table while he drinks his beer (water ring stains on the veneer top) and watches tv. Not much on the walls. Books on the bookshelf, but no knicknacks.

You don’t know what you’re looking for yet, but you’ll know it when you find it.

There are a few places you start. The drawers in the kitchen. The freezer. The bedside table. Shelves in the closet. Medicine cabinet. Somewhere you'd stash something unassuming but precious but that you don't want anyone else to come across and ask questions.

But it’s as you pass back out through the bedroom, and lightly push the door open a bit wider that you hear a clinking and tapping on the other side.

There, hanging off a hook on the back of the bedroom door, is a silver chain.

With five women’s rings on it.

Yahtzee.

You snap a few photos with your phone before moving through the apartment again, looking for anything else, just in case your first instincts were wrong.

But your instincts are very rarely wrong.

Criminals love trophies. Little keepsakes of their thrills. Look for a collection of something that seems out of place and you’ve probably found your clue.

You’re just about to call it good and head out when you hear a key turning in the lock.

No need to panic, you’ve got this.

As Mike enters and kicks off his shoes before making his way to the bathroom, all you have to do is stand silently beside the far side of the bookshelf.

He doesn’t even turn on the light. Even easier.

Once the bathroom door closes, you’re able to silently slip out.

“It’s only a matter of time before somebody really sees you.”

Doubtful, Tim. But I wish I could tell you how sweet your concern is.

____

True to form, Tim’s is one of the only lights burning at the office when you slide through the department well after midnight.

It’s not often that you show up here as the Shadow, but you make sure it’s only at night when most of the lights are out. Even if you’re seen engaging with one of them, the detectives all know to look the other way and not to ask questions when someone on the force has requested your services.

They see nothing, and say less.

When you get to the back offices, you have to stop for a moment in the shadows and take in the scene.

Tim’s here in the dim room, standing at a desk full of evidence bags. The one with the knife in it lays on a lightbox, the glow of which reaches up to caress his face, dragging at his cheeks and the bags under his eyes, his brow and bottom lip succumbing to the pull of contemplation.

You have to wonder if the detective has any joys outside of his work, if he reads or paints, if he’s into woodworking or collecting memorabilia. You often find yourself wishing you had the means to learn more about him and find yourself watching him from across the office as if you could read it in the stretch of his aching neck, in the hunch of his gun-holstered shoulders.

But you’ve grown used to your quiet life. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if someone else actually paid you enough attention to let you into their life–

“What have you got for me?” he asks, and you flinch. He hadn’t even turned around.

“Plenty," you rasp through the voice modulator. "How did you know I was here?”

“I always notice you,” he says. “And I could ask you the same thing.”

“Where else would you be?”

“I have a home.”

“Do you ever go there?”

He laughs and finally turns. “Yeah, not lately.”

Emerging from the darkness, you hand him a few photos you ran off from your phone at home, knowing he'd appreciate the analog. There's the plate cover. The ID. The chain of rings. You also hand over the gun you pinched. “Just in case you need to run a match on any casings.”

It’s here that Tim’s look grows sour. “You took this off him?” Then he tilts his head, scanning the photos. “This one…taken inside his house?”

“Yes. Most likely a collection of his trophies–”

“You went into his house??”

His intensity stops you. Something’s….wrong. “It was necessary. I wasn’t seen.”

“I told you, nothing dangerous. What if he’d come home?”

“He did.” This gains an unprecedented look of alarm from the otherwise calm and calculated man. “I told you, Detective, I wasn’t seen. I never am. That’s what I do.”

“That’s not the point, Sunshine. He murders women and dumps their bodies. This is different from the drug smugglers and counterfeit runners you usually surveil…”

He stops, registering what he just said only a couple of seconds after you do, a calm sigh of regret washing over him before being replaced by the bloom of concern.

You could choose to ignore it.

But it's useless. Tim would never let an assumption take hold as truth unless he had absolute proof. He’s the best. The best of the best and doesn’t even know it. So long you’ve wished to tell him, to make him see what you see in him, but it would mean opening yourself, becoming visible, being seen.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is your superpower, this anonymity, this blurring at the edges, this void of connection…

And you should back away when he approaches.

But you don't want to.

Nor do you dodge as he slowly reaches up to remove your mask. Your hood. Fits his palm to your jaw and runs the length of a cheekbone with his thumb. “It doesn’t work on everyone, Sunshine. Not if they really want to see you.”

As his warm, weary brown eyes find yours, two thick, generous tears spill down your cheeks, two surprising hot spikes of your heart right there on your face. It’s like being thrust underwater without the chance to take a breath, the panic of suddenly being the center of someone’s attention, and you gasp for air only to release a sob, slapping both hands to your face in embarrassment.

Tim doesn’t pry your hands away, he merely runs a knuckle over one as if to say, hey, you’re still hiding.

And you realize that you are.

When you finally don’t have to be.

When you lower your guard, he’s waiting there patiently to welcome you back.

“You okay?” he asks, handing you a napkin for your tears.

Nodding, you take it and use it quietly before swallowing, trying to steady a voice out in the open. “What now?”

He looks pointedly over at his desk and gestures for you to head over there. “I thought maybe we’d start with dinner. I figured you'd come by.”

There are two Chinese takeout boxes on the blotter, both bearing a code in black ink.

22C. His standard.

Lucky13. Your favorite. With the sauces on the side, just like you like it.

Speechless, you look at him in awe. You do see me.

And he tucks his hands in his pockets, softening back at you with a look that can only be described as Yeah.

_____

In the following days you’re able to hunt down photos of the killer’s victims that clearly display their hands and the rings that you found in his apartment.

Undercover targets are planted in the club to entice Mike Cross, and sure enough, he takes one to the back room, pays for privacy, extra for a later cleanup, but gets caught with his fingers around her throat as a whole squad breaks down the door to take him into custody.

There’s no doubt he will never see the outside of a prison again.

Club 88 is shut down and a long investigation into its ownership and practices begin. The Shadow is called in by the investigating team for your fly-on-the-wall services and at first you’re afraid that perhaps, now that you’ve been seen, that the shine of your powers has dimmed or–to be more precise–a newfound confidence makes you even brighter than before.

On the contrary, you’ve never felt more powerful or more in control of your abilities.

Perhaps because the one person who can detect your sunshine also pours pride into your shadow.

Or maybe it’s the regular diet of Lucky Number 13 and a new morning view these days. Who’s to say?

____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

#merge mansion fanfiction #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x f!reader #year of tropes

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warabidakihime · 5 months ago

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Rules and Roses Chapter 3

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic).

★ content warnings : implied violence and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut. MINORS DNI.

comments are always welcome and greatly appreciated! hearing your thoughts motivates me to write more, so please leave a comment. have fun reading!

"Hey Akaza, good morning! Sorry to message you so early, but I need to let you know I'll be meeting with Ms. Rivera at her place today before lunch. Please have the car ready by 10:30 am. Thank you!"

Akaza, huh?

Akaza stared at your message, his eyes fixed on his phone screen, but his mind wandered. Minutes passed as thoughts raced through his head. Finally, with a deep sigh, he shook off his distractions, put down his phone, and began getting ready for the day.

One thing about you: you hated delays, whether caused by you or someone else.

There was a time when Akaza accidentally overslept, and you had an early doctor's appointment. Because he was late, you drove yourself and got annoyed at him for messing up your schedule. Eventually, you calmed down and reminded him that time is something you don’t like wasting.

Since then, Akaza has never missed an alarm and has always been punctual.

However, he was confused as to why you didn’t tell your husband about what happened that day. You're usually an open book and a chatterbox with your husband, so it came as a surprise Muzan wasn’t informed of his little oopsie.

He didn’t ask you why, though.

First, he didn’t want to push his luck, and second, he didn’t exactly want Muzan to find out. Muzan was known to be strict and blunt with everyone except you.

You have your rules, but Muzan has his demands.

Akaza knows this well since he was Muzan’s bodyguard before being assigned to you after your marriage. This change in his role was rather unexpected, considering your... dynamic.

As his mind wandered down this path, Akaza shook his head, his eyes closing in frustration.

“Don’t even think about going there,” he muttered to himself, knowing he didn’t have the patience to entertain such thoughts.

With another deep sigh, he continued getting ready. Once finished, he almost sprinted out of his room to start the car, ensuring everything was set for you to leave as soon as you were ready.

"Sign here, Ms. Rivera."

"Gladly."

Since it was a weekday, traffic in the capital city was manageable, and you arrived at your client's home right on time.

Muzan’s busy campaign schedule meant you often had to accompany him. If he wins the election, you’ll be the first lady, a role with its own important responsibilities.

Time flew by, and since your last meeting with Ms. Rivera a month ago, you were now down to the final run-through of her wedding plans for next month.

The only thing left was for your client to pay the remaining balance for your services.

After collecting the payment and discussing final details with Ms. Rivera, your meeting ended after nearly an hour. Akaza was there in the living room with you and the client, keeping himself busy with phone games,playing silently out of respect.

As he noticed the meeting wrapping up, he excused himself to prepare the car so you could leave promptly.

"Where to?" Akaza asked as he drove off.

"Hmm... let’s eat somewhere before going home. Are you craving something?" You looked at him, and he responded with a sheepish chuckle, "Don't worry about me, madam. You choose what you want."

"Honestly, I don’t know what I want to eat. I’m hungry but can’t decide what I’m in the mood for."

Akaza navigated the highway smoothly, one hand on the wheel, the other propped on the door with his chin resting on his palm. He hummed as he thought about where to eat.

"There's this burger joint I know. It’s a bit far, but their food is good and cheap," he suggested. His tone exuded excitement, and as you listened to him, you noticed the excited tone, which for some reason made you equally excited as well.

"Sure! That sounds great. I don’t have any other plans, so we can take our time," you replied just as eagerly.

Akaza looked over to you for a minute, catching the pretty smile plastered on your face. Without his permission, his heart skipped a beat, and warmth seeped through his veins, softening his usually stoic demeanor.

Today, with the sun shining brightly and the breeze feeling wonderful against your skin, Akaza allowed himself to let his guard down just a bit and let his inhibitions win for once and just this once.

"It's decided, then."

With a fond smile, he nodded at you before stepping on the gas, determined to get you to the burger joint he enthusiastically vouched for.

The place where the remnant of your past lingered—the place where your Pandora's box awaits.

"This is so good!" you exclaimed as you took your first bite of the burger you ordered.

Akaza merely chuckled while watching you eat, his eyes filled with fondness and a little bit of pride. He was clearly pleased that you liked his suggestion when the two of you were deciding what to eat for lunch.

Through the years of serving you as your bodyguard, he learned that you were rather picky with the foods you ete. You have sensory issues, so certain food textures and scents are not to your liking.

You also don't like eating foods you hadn't tried before when you were very hungry, because what if you didn't like them? It would ruin your appetite right there and then. But this time, you had hearts in your eyes after taking your first bite of the burger.

"See? I told you it's good and mad cheap too. A little bit greasy, but we'll live," Akaza said with a chuckle.

You nodded enthusiastically in response. "Yeah, but to be honest, for some reason, the taste is familiar to me."

You looked around the burger joint, scanning every nook and cranny as you tried to gather your thoughts. "It's my first time here, yet this place feels so familiar, and the taste of their food reminds me of something, but I just can't pinpoint what it is."

Still lost in your own little world as you enjoyed your meal, a spark twinkled in Akaza's eyes as he listened to you.

"Maybe you've been here before, but you can't remember. I mean, if my schedule were as hectic and loaded as yours, I'd also forget stuff every now and then."

You hummed as you took another hearty bite, your pupils dilating at how much you loved it, making your bodyguard chuckle fondly at you. He didn't say anything more, knowing you were in the process of gathering your thoughts.

"I guess so, but I figure if I liked their food here so much, I wouldn't be able to forget this place. You know me and my obsession with food, Akaza."

Yeah, I know.

How could I ever forget?

"Most of what you make me do is either order you food or buy you iced coffee. How could I forget?" he replied with a teasing smile.

You playfully swatted him on the head.

Akaza snickered, finding absolute pleasure in teasing you.

"What? It's true! Check our chatbox—it's full of your food orders."

Rolling your eyes, you shot back, "And who’s the one who enjoys eating half of those orders with me?"

Akaza grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Well, can you blame me? You tend to overorder, and most of the time you persuade me to eat the rest of it."

"Overorder? That's rich coming from the guy who always insists on extra fries," you retorted with a smirk.

"Hey, those fries are amazing, and you know it. And I'm not one to deny free food," Akaza said defensively and quite audaciously as he is having this conversation with you, his main source of income, but over the years of working for you and spending time with you, the two of you have grown close and a lot comfortable with each other's company.

"Yeah, yeah, just admit you can't resist good food either," you teased.

"Alright, alright," Akaza conceded, laughing. "You got me. But seriously, if I didn’t help you out, you’d probably be buried under a mountain of food by now."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, maybe I do get a little carried away sometimes."

"A little?" Akaza raised an eyebrow, grinning.

"Remember that time you ordered enough sushi to feed an army? I had to go buy you medicine in the middle of the night because you got a bad stomach ache."

You rolled your eyes again, your cheeks a bit red due to a slight embarrassment, but you tried to cover it with a sheepish smile.

"It was a new place, and I wanted to try everything!"

"You certainly did," Akaza said, shaking his head. "But it’s all part of the job—keeping you happy and well-fed."

"And teasing me endlessly," you added.

"Of course," Akaza said while still wearing that damn teasing smile on his face. "It's also part of my KPIs."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at his cheekiness. "Well, as long as you’re enjoying yourself."

Akaza leaned back, his expression softening. "I am. Besides, someone has to keep you grounded."

"Grounded, huh? More like keep me entertained," you retorted, smiling.

"That too," he admitted with a chuckle. "Ready to head back?"

You nodded, feeling satisfied both with the meal and the company. "Yeah, let’s go. Thanks for lunch, Akaza."

"Anytime, boss," he replied, standing up and offering you a hand.

With a shared smile, you both left the burger joint and headed back home.

Still on cloud nine from your spontaneous lunch out with Akaza, you entered the mansion, still chatting and laughing with one another. You didn't notice Muzan in the kitchen, helping himself to a glass of wine.

He had just come back from a busy day, which included attending business meetings at Obelisk Kibutsuji, participating in media interviews with his running mate Douma, and going to a fitting for an upcoming event you both would attend in about two months.

After such a hectic day, he rewarded himself with a drink to unwind.

At the sound of your melodious laugh chiming like bells in the hallway, his ears perked up, and he immediately looked up, his curiosity piqued. What could be the reason you were in such a good mood?

"Oh, hey, my love. You're home," you said lovingly as soon as you saw your husband in the kitchen.

"Yeah. The fitting ended a lot earlier, so I headed straight home," he responded with an equally loving smile.

Clearly elated to see him, you immediately sprinted with light steps towards Muzan, giving him the tightest bear hug and a smooch to match. Muzan happily reciprocated the kiss, making you giggle in between kisses.

Meanwhile, Akaza stood on one side of the room, waiting for you to either dismiss him or have him remain in his post should you have other tasks for him.

After a few more moments, you both pulled away and smiled at each other.

"How was your day, darling?" Muzan asked, still holding you in his embrace.

"It was great!" you replied.

"Oho? And may I know why?" Muzan asked again, his voice lacking the usual professional tone he used.

"My meeting with Ms. Rivera was successful, and we will be proceeding to the actual wedding preparations. And then, Akaza introduced me to this burger joint downtown, and it was so good! I need to take you there, my love. They have the best iced coffee too!"

"Oh, did he?" Muzan said, his scarlet eyes darting towards your bodyguard, who was currently wearing a polite smile as he regarded your husband with a nod and bow.

Muzan replicated his smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Turning back to you, Muzan said, "Well, when I'm not too busy or when we're in the area, let's eat there, hm?"

"It's a date," you giggled. Then you turned to Akaza and said, "You can go ahead and rest now, Akaza. Thank you so much for today."

"Yes, madam," he replied before bowing and retreating to his room at the far end of the mansion, beside Kokushibo and the maids' quarters.

Unbeknownst to you, Muzan was trailing your bodyguard's disappearing figure, and just as you were about to look up at him again, his undivided attention was back on you.

Giving your hips a good-hearted squeeze, he pointed to his half-empty wine glass and said, "Want a drink, darling?"

You nodded. "I'd love to."

The two of you walked back to the spacious kitchen. You sat on the countertop, your legs swinging merrily, as you watched your husband pour you a glass of red wine. After handing it to you, he walked over to the other side of the kitchen to look for something.

"How was your day, my love?" It was your turn to ask. Muzan smiled handsomely and replied in a relaxed manner, "Chaotic as always. To be quite honest, I think the fatigue is catching up to me."

You frowned at this. "It's because you're pushing yourself too hard. Why don't you take a day or two to rest?"

"Hmm... I might. I'll check my calendar, and if it's not too full, I will move those schedules to a later date," he replied while rummaging through a kitchen drawer.

"Want me to give you a massage later?"

Muzan finally returned to you after finding what he was looking for, a familiar smile now plastered on his face. He walked closer until your knees were against his torso, and both of his arms were securely placed on each of your sides, caging you in place.

"Just a massage? I think I'm going to need more than that, Y/N."

Already understanding what he was implying, you mirrored his smile, wrapped your arms around his neck, and invited him in between your legs. "What do you mean?"

Muzan chuckled seductively, his face only inches away from yours, the tip of his nose touching yours, his scarlet pupils mesmerizing you.

"I need you naked and moaning for me, darling. Can you do that?"

You chuckled just as seductively, already feeling aroused. You could only nod in response, much to your husband's delight.

"Hmm... it's decided then. But wait, before I get sidetracked, let's take our night supplements first."

You rolled your eyes at that. "Not you edging me before we even get started, Muzan."

Muzan let out a hearty chuckle, highly amused at your choice of words. "I'll make sure to repent later."

"You're forgiven," you replied with a chuckle, then took the pills your husband prepared for you. While you were preoccupied, a rather odd expression was plastered on Muzan's face, but it quickly reverted back to 'normal' once you're done.

"That's a new brand, by the way. Douma introduced it to me. He said it's way more effective than the one we're taking."

"Really? Hmm... I've not heard of this brand before. Is it imported?" you asked while gulping down a glass of water.

"Yeah, it's made in Italy."

You hummed in response, and in a split second, you found yourself being embraced by your husband again. In all honesty, he nearly gave you whiplash, but that's just one of Muzan's many quirks you fell in love with.

Then you felt him place a sensual kiss on your neck, immediately turning you into a puddle, even more so when you felt his teeth puncture your flesh. Afterwards, he dragged his kisses from your neck to your jaw, then finally to your lips.

"M-Muzan." You moaned as you felt his hands roam around your body, leaving chills in their wake.

"Already, darling? I'm just getting started." He didn't give you a chance to respond, as the moment you were about to, he glided his tongue between your plump lips and invited yours to a dance of tango.

The kiss left you so hazy that you didn't even notice Muzan had already discarded your pencil skirt, your undergarments dangling on your foot, and your blouse and bra fully undone by his skillful hands.

"I missed you so much, Y/N. It's been a while, huh?" Muzan asked after pulling away momentarily before diving down to one of your breasts, immediately nubbing on your nipples, making you gasp and moan out loud.

"Y-yes," you breathed out.

It was already well into the night, and usually the both of you were already in bed given that you were always busy with your respective work. But at this very moment, you'd never felt more alive and hungry for each other.

It really has been a while since you last had sex. Heck, it had also been a while since you last went on a proper date. So craving each other like rabbits in heat wouldn't surprise anyone, considering the two of you were borderline obsessed with one another.

"Ahhh," you gasped, your back arching as you felt your husband's tongue glide over your needy clit.

Muzan continued his magic in your nether region, quickly sending you over the edge. You had one hand clamped over your mouth, nervous that if you let any more lewd sounds escape, you would wake the maids and bodyguards.

"Let me hear you, darling," your husband hummed between your legs.

Unbeknownst to you, Muzan had his eyes wide open and focused on the entrance of the kitchen. Even in the dimly lit room, he could see someone's shadow.

Still concentrating his gaze there, he spoke again.

"Come on, Y/N. Let me hear you sing. Say my name, darling. Who's making you feel good?"

As if on cue, you reached climax; your eyes shot open and then closed shut again in sheer pleasure.

"Ah, fuc—Muzan!"

Muzan smirked as he watched the shadow slowly disappear.

"Good girl."

143 notes · View notes

heliads · 1 year ago

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Hey! I love your writing sm

could you pls do an f1 soulmate au with charles x carlos?

maybe whatever a person writes on themselves shows up on their soulmate so they write each other cute 'good luck' notes or jokes before races and maybe they realize they're soulmates when one of them gets a podium and the other person sees their drawings :)

i understand that you wanted this to be cute. however have you considered that they could be insane instead. have you considered that there could be mind games, bestie. think about the mental warfare (i am)

masterlist

Carlos Sainz believes that his secrets come out the fastest when he’s drinking. Doesn’t even have to be alcohol, his favorite ruiner of silence– he’s let out contract details and personal opinions just as freely with isotonic water after a race as with a shot someone hands him two hours into a post-race celebration. It’s easy to let your guard down when you think you’re with a friend, when the stakes don’t seem high, when he knows better but doesn’t want to admit it.

That’s why he feels a rippling wave of panic when he sees Charles walking across the Ferrari hospitality, two cups of coffee in his hands. Charles sits down at an empty table for two, places one cup in front of himself and one at the empty chair, and looks pointedly at Carlos. Carlos thinks to himself, this can’t be good, and mentally reminds himself to book an appointment with PR sooner rather than later.

He takes the seat. Some things, you can’t fight. Charles still smiles anyway, pleased, and says, “I got you coffee.”

Carlos had noticed this, surprisingly. It was difficult to ignore. “You’re being nice,” he remarks, blowing into the hole on the lid to cool down the liquid inside.

“I am nice,” Charles protests. His accent comes out more when he’s unhappy, it makes the syllables bunch up together like pleats of fabric.

Carlos arches a brow, and takes a sip of his coffee instead of answering. Scuderia Ferrari loves to claim that they adore the art of coffee just as much as their mother country, but every time Carlos gets coffee from hospitality it’s either flavorless or burnt, depending on who serves it. Charles’ attempt isn’t terrible, but he doubts Charles did anything more to prepare it than just put in an order. It’s a nice gesture, though. Just like Charles said.

When he looks up and the steam properly clears from his vision, Charles is still pouting at him. Carlos shakes his head, smiling to himself. He makes it so easy sometimes, to mess with his head. It’s kind of fun. Poker, but with a far prettier deck of cards.

“Alright, fine,” he relents, grinning so Charles knows he’s in on the joke, “I’m just teasing. No need to get mad, cabrón.”

“I’m not mad,” Charles says, a hint of a smile on his face although he stubbornly tries to shake it, “just interested in defending my honor.”

“Your honor?” Carlos asks, laughing in earnest. “So lord-esque, that is what I have been telling you. Of course Lord Perceval would defend his honor.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “You can deal with my honor, mate. I got you coffee.”

“And I am grateful for it every time you bring it up,” Carlos says, and takes a sip to prove it.

Charles does the same, but his eyes remain on Carlos the whole time. “So? Is it true what they’re saying?”

Carlos wants more than coffee for a conversation that starts out like this. “Who’s saying what?”

Charles gestures vaguely towards his phone. “Everybody. They say you’re going to leave Ferrari when your contract expires.”

Ah. That. “People love rumors,” he says absentmindedly, “I never thought you’d pay attention to them.”

“I don’t usually, but I was interested in this one,” Charles admits. “You’d tell me if you were leaving, right?”

“I’m not leaving,” Carlos says.

Charles sets down his cup. “But you’d tell me, right?”

“I would,” Carlos says. Pauses. Starts again. “What’s gotten into you, man? I never took you for someone to fall for theories like this.”

Charles shakes his head a little too quickly. “I’m not. They just seemed to believe it.”

Carlos shrugs. “They believe a lot. My contract doesn’t expire until next year. They won’t worry about me for a while.”

“Should I?” Charles asks. “Worry about you, I mean.”

Carlos looks at him, really looks at him. The tense grip of his teammate’s hands around his coffee, even despite the heat still emanating through the cup. The furtive glances he keeps sneaking towards Carlos, then abruptly looking at the cup again when he gets caught.

“I’m not going,” Carlos says gently. More gently than he’d answer any interviewer, anyway.

Charles nods quickly, his head bobbing like a doll on a string. “Of course. Besides, I have too much interest for you to leave yet. Not until we figure out your, ah–” A pause. Delicate, but not at all from a polite inclination, no matter how it might seem to any outsider.

Carlos groans, exasperated. “My soulmate? My God, Charles, you have to give this up at some point.”

If it were not enough to have an overly inquisitive teammate, one that’s rather good at using his eyes and smile to get what he wanted, Carlos has been cursed with a racing partner that’s unnaturally interested in his missing other half. Carlos himself wants to figure out who his soulmate is, obviously, but at this point he thinks Charles is even more invested.

They all have soulmates. Supposedly. There’s probably at least a couple people out there who skipped that universal drawing of lots, but Carlos knows for certain that he is not one of them because his soulmate contacts him almost every day. Some people go weeks or even months without finding so much as a scribble appearing out of thin air on their skin, but Carlos blinks and there’s a new sentence on his forearm, bruising his knuckles, curling around his ankle. Whoever his soulmate is, they don’t care much for being ignored.

Neither does his teammate. Charles huffs out an exasperated breath. “If you will not be curious, I will be curious for you. You’re always so cagey about it, anyway. I know they write to you. Don’t you want to know?”

“Of course I want to know who they are,” Carlos scoffs. “What I don’t get is why you want to know. Why don’t you focus on your own other half for a change?”

Charles just leans back in his chair, grinning coolly. Ah, yes. Carlos has suspected for some time that Charles already has an idea as to who his soulmate is, but for some reason Carlos has never seen her around the paddock. It could be that Charles is just keeping their relationship private, but he doubts it. Charles likes his trophies visible and his games extensive. More likely than not, Charles has his soulmate engaged in some kind of cat-and-mouse game so they figure it out without too much help on his end. It’s hellishly manipulative, but he’s charming enough that they all let it slide.

Even Carlos, although he at least tries to put up a fight. Sometimes, he thinks Charles is amusingly aware of that, and doubles down on his efforts to get Carlos to cave until both of them are locked in some sort of affectionate stalemate.

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” Charles hums, pleased that he’s got the other hand. “I mean,” he says, leaning forward abruptly to seize Carlos’ hand in his own, “Don’t you want to know about yours? Aren’t you curious?”

Whoever sat at their table before them left a Sharpie behind by accident; Charles picks it up now, uncapping it with the same hand without letting go of Carlos. “You could just ask them right now, who they are,” Charles muses. The tip of the Sharpie hovers millimeters above the curve of Carlos’ palm, waiting.

Carlos stares at the black ink. It’s easier to focus on the skin when he mumbles, “They wouldn’t answer.”

You’re not supposed to. Unspoken rules. He’s never liked that sort of thing, and neither has Charles, who knows this and smiles unkindly anyway. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Carlos asks, mostly to himself. Charles doesn’t appear to hear him. The Sharpie dips lower until it touches Carlos’ skin. Immediately, the black ink flowers into his palm. Carlos waits for Charles to keep writing, to scrawl a question like who are you or can I fly you to a Grand Prix paddock, asap but instead Charles flinches, slams the palm of his own hand down towards the table, and covers up the pen again.

“Maybe you should do it yourself,” Charles mutters by way of explanation.

“Maybe,” Carlos says. He’s not sure if he’s agreeing or not. It would be easier, he thinks, to have Charles take the wheel again. It would also hurt more. Carlos caps the pen when it becomes obvious that Charles will not. “Drink your coffee,” he says. “It’ll get cold.”

Charles does as told, which is sort of surprising. Usually, he likes pushing the envelope until someone tells him to quit it. It appears to Carlos, though, that they have reached an unspoken limit, a line drawn out in black Sharpie on tanned skin that will not be crossed again.

A few minutes pass. They’re both quiet. Charles whispers into the condensation of his cup, “You’re not leaving, though, right?”

Carlos smiles. “I’m not.” Contracts change, obviously, but he’ll try to fight it. They all try.

They leave not long afterwards, race week means that they don’t have a lot of time to sit around. There’s always something to be filmed for media duties, an interview to conduct, checks to run through with engineers. Still, Carlos is somehow calmer than he was before, even despite the additional caffeine.

Charles, by contrast, seems jumpier than usual as they head towards the exit.

“Did you enjoy your coffee?” Carlos asks pointedly.

Charles glances quickly over both shoulders, then groans when he’s sure that no one can overhear him. “No, God. It’s terrible.”

Carlos chuckles. “But you went to so much trouble to get it. Surely you can pretend it’s more than just terrible. You drank, like, all of it.”

Charles gives him an appraising look. “It’s better with someone else.”

It occurs to Carlos, as he walks back to his driver’s room, that they may not just have been talking about coffee after all. He’s stopped by one of his PR advisors on the way back– apparently there’s a new TikTok trend that would be just great for him to do– and although he doesn’t feel that shaken, he must look it, because they only get halfway through a discussion of trending sounds before the agent asks if everything is alright.

Carlos scoffs. “Of course I’m alright.”

The agent arches a brow. “Are you sure? You look a little unsettled. Don’t tell me you were talking to George about track times again, he has that effect on everyone before qualis.”

Carlos shakes his head. “No, I didn’t see him. I was speaking with Charles, though, about nothing in particular. Just coffee and soulmates and stuff.” Unable to stop himself, he leans a little closer, drops his voice until it’s more of a whisper. “He’s found his soulmate, hasn’t he? She’s got to be around here somewhere.”

His PR agent, surprisingly, shakes their head. “No, he’s said nothing about it to us, and we’ve asked loads of times. Are you certain that they’re a she, though? That wasn’t the impression I got.”

Carlos stands utterly still. He thinks his blood may have cooled in his veins, congealing into a solid. He is not sure he could move if he tried. “Charles told you that?”

“Once,” the agent says offhandedly. “He got sick of us asking about his mystery woman. I don’t think he meant to let it slip, but you know how he is with secrets.”

They’re laughing at that. Carlos tries to chuckle along with him, but he can’t really do more than nod, because now he’s thinking about Charles’ soulmate being a man. It’s the driver in him, he supposes, the dreamer, that if he can imagine any scenario he would also imagine himself in it, and so it follows that now Carlos cannot stop thinking about the man on the other side of Charles’ heart being him, being Carlos. The picture fits a little too well.

Carlos had never pictured his soulmate and thought of a man, but sometimes he’ll be up on the podium with Charles, champagne high and bright in the air, and he thinks maybe– maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing, not having a girl like that. He already knows what it’s like, anyway, to be at the top of the world and have another man standing there with him. If God did not intend for us to be with someone of the same sex, then why would He make it feel so natural?

Carlos somehow manages to end the conversation, to slip back into the relative safety of his driver’s room and lean his entire body weight against the door. He stares up at the ceiling, hands fisting the red fabric of his Ferrari jacket at his sides, and he lets himself, for the first time, wonder if his soulmate might not be a man as well. Anything Charles can do, Carlos can too, or so the commentators have started to say. Anyone Charles could love, Carlos could too. Anything his would be theirs.

It is a risky thought. Pessimists will tell you that soulmates are good for nothing but getting your hopes up. Carlos does not know who his soulmate is nor, odds are, will he ever. It does no good to think about what he wants until he already has it.

Later that day, Carlos tells his soulmate in non-descript block letters, All things must end. He caps the pen and covers his hand for the rest of the day. He sees Charles some hours later, looking pale and frightened. Carlos cannot, will not, imagine why.

He tries to push it from his mind. They are not hiding in Ferrari hospitality for the thrill of it, after all, but to prepare for the race ahead. Qualifying comes and goes, nothing to write home about but at least they should be decently in the points. One of them might be able to make it to a podium if they can give Lando Norris the slip. The best case scenario is that Checo will bin it so they could get a 1-2, but who knows if they’ll have any semblance of luck today.

Carlos qualified one position ahead of Charles. Fred Vasseur is already starting to eye him like a lamb to the slaughter, and Carlos makes a mental reminder to continually ask his engineer for Charles’ times during the race. He has a feeling that team orders might be given.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t make Carlos angry towards Charles as much as he thinks it should. He is irritated by Ferrari, of course, for picking one driver over another, but that’s expected in any given scenario in which the cars are swapped. Usually, though, that sort of thing happens enough times that you start directing your ire towards the other driver, but Carlos cannot manage that. In fact, he never has. Hating Charles is unthinkable. It would be easier to hate himself. Right?

Getting ready in his driver’s room before the race that Sunday, Carlos is struck by a sudden, unthinkable idea. He rummages around in his belongings for a while before coming up with a pen. Dark, thick, the kind you use for autographs when the hapless fan forgets to bring a writing implement of their own. Carlos uncaps it, stares at his skin, then starts to scribble. Words, underlined, circled. Do well. Good luck. Please.

He doesn’t know if– but he could, maybe, if he saw. Carlos loses himself in a frenzy, then snaps out of it just as quickly when his palms get covered in writing. The sound of footsteps outside his door makes him flinch, and he tugs on his gloves as fast as he can, smearing the ink even more than before. It doesn’t matter. Odds are nothing will come of this anyway.

The race goes as expected. Checo does not crash, much to the chagrin of all other teams, and Carlos gets stuck behind him long enough that they start talking about switching him with Charles, which happens around lap forty. When the checkered flag waves, Charles is third, Carlos fourth. He parks quickly and hurries over to the front. By the time he gets there, Charles has already withdrawn inside the cooldown room but Carlos can shoulder in with the other Ferrari crew and shout and slap each other on the back and that’s good, too, it really is.

He will tell himself that it is. Carlos, by now, has gone to a lot of teams and learned about a lot of strategy choices. He knows how to convince himself that something is fine, that the decisions of the team are ones he agrees with. He can idle with the crew and stare up at the podium with a fixed smile on his face, because Carlos is a Good Teammate and Good Teammates show up for each other. They accept team orders when they come their way. They do not stand in the shade of someone else’s idol and think, this isn’t fair.

Of course it isn’t fair, it’s motorsport. Charles is the one they love the most, even when he’s erratic and crashes every other race. Charles is the pretty boy, the golden one, Il Predestinato. Carlos is merely his father’ son.

Charles, who figured out the whole game of soulmates months before. He guessed, at least. Told that to Carlos one night, grinning, drunk, spiraling after another lost podium. Charles had waited with wide eyes and a frozen smile as if waiting for Carlos to put something together, but the other shoe never dropped and eventually the moment ended, both of them pulled apart by other friends, downing other drinks, pretending they never existed.

Carlos thinks of it now. He watches Charles emerge from the shadows of the space behind the podium to stand in the blinding sunlight, waving down at all of them. One of the mechanics is elbowing him in the side, speaking in that low voice they all get when they do the boy’s club talk, you know, someone’s soulmate likes him well enough, obviously, and Carlos has no idea what he’s talking about until he looks up and sees. Sees Charles, his palms dark with ink. From up here, it’s too small to see what is written. The Catholic boy in him thinks stigmata which is wrong, obviously, because there is no great divine mystery here, not when Carlos knows what happened.

Not when Carlos was the one to write all of it earlier that day. He’d almost forgotten during the course of the race, but it all comes flooding back now. That’s his ink on Charles’ hands, and that means– That means Charles is his soulmate. Always has been. Always will be.

Carlos stares up at him. Charles looks down, and although he’s been grinning with victory this whole time, the smile that slides onto his face upon seeing his teammate is different than before, it’s knowing. Charles knows that Carlos has figured it out at last. He’s been waiting for him to do it all this time.

It’s almost obscene, how close Charles must have come to telling him about a thousand times. Who would risk it like that? No one. Charles would. Carlos pictures him with the Sharpie earlier that week, black tip poised above his skin. How he’d caught himself before giving himself up. Perfect timing, a driver’s reflexes. Like managing to right yourself right before sending your car into the wall. Or, better, like doing it anyway. Like accelerating before you go. Like leaving your hands on the wheel so your wrists can break, too, not just your heart.

Yes, Charles would. Charles Leclerc would. Charles, so impatient for his first championship that he’d give up his current chance by overshooting every corner, by doing too much until he ends up in the wall time and time again. This is the man who would expose his soulmate like a throat to a knife, and Carlos has known this about him for years.

The Ferrari section of the paddock is insane after getting a podium, so no one notices when Carlos fights his way through the crowds to let himself into Charles’ driver’s room. It’s empty when he arrives, Charles must have many more people to get through, so he paces relentlessly back and forth until Charles shows up.

Charles bursts through the door, still talking to someone down the hall. His exuberance crashes to a halt the second he sees Carlos waiting, and he hurriedly tells whoever is there not to wait up. Charles carefully closes the door behind him, locks it too, and then it’s just the two of them and this great and all encompassing secret for company.

Charles swallows. “You know.”

Of course he does. Friends show up at each other’s driver’s rooms all the time, but this isn’t just on the order of congratulations for a good race result. They would not be hovering on the edge of this great precipice if it was just that.

“You knew earlier,” Carlos challenges.

Charles ducks his head in a nod. “I did.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Carlos asks.

Charles’ gaze is shifty, it flicks from ceiling to floor to walls, anywhere but Carlos himself. Charles has always been a daredevil for the risks, but he’s never had the stomach for what becomes of them. The consequences are always a thousand times worse than the actions.

“I didn’t think you would want it. Want me,” he corrects, almost whispering.

This is so absurd that Carlos almost wants to laugh. Almost, because the look on Charles’ face is so pitiful that he can’t even smile. “Why wouldn’t I?” Carlos asks.

Charles blinks in surprise. “Because you were never even that interested in finding out who your soulmate was, mate. Always said it would just be some girl you didn’t know. I didn’t want to see your face when you realized you didn’t even get some girl but me.”

“I didn’t want to look too much into my soulmate because I was afraid it wouldn’t be you,” Carlos says in a rush, and as he admits it he knows it’s true.

How could it be anything but that? Carlos could have picked any team, but he went here. A hardheaded (formerly red) bull chasing not just the scarlet flag but the matador himself. Charles, all along.

Charles’ eyes are wide, lashes darker even than the ink still staining his palms. “So you’re not mad, then?” He asks cautiously.

“Not mad and not leaving,” Carlos reiterates.

A ghost of a smile flickers over Charles’ lips. “You cannot blame me for wanting to be sure, I didn’t want you to go until I managed to tell you.”

“You certainly took your time about it,” Carlos comments.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Just because we are racers does not mean we have to do everything fast, Carlos. Be patient.”

Carlos arches a brow. “You are telling me that?”

Charles has the grace to look at least a little ashamed. “Yes. Well. I can be patient now.”

Of course he can. They both can. Most people spend their entire lives searching for the answer to a question that is no longer a mystery to either of them. Time is all they have, time and sweet-sticky champagne and the sensation of being at the top of the world. Nothing will change them. Everything will. For once, though, the change does not scare him. It’s not bad, all of the time.

Sometimes, it brings him Charles. Sometimes, it brings him this. No, not bad in the slightest.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

also: @quill-of-a-sparrow

all tags list: @wordsarelife

213 notes · View notes

ryuichirou · 6 months ago

Note

I wanna start with I love your blog sm and I’m not trying to jump on the train, in fact I don’t even mind if you just read this and don’t post or even just delete after you read, but I know where the “Rook gaslighter” thing comes from and wanted to explain (I also just LOVE talking about rook even if its negative). Im not explaining to change your mind but rather to inform!! Because I love spending hours analyzing the characters, pls don’t stop drawing rook!! Ever!!

ANYWAYS now that “please don’t hate me I have to uncontrollably explain everything about my favorite character(s) the second someone doesn’t know about one small detail 😭” is over, I will explain! During Vil’s lab wear vignette, Rook asks Vil when he’s going to start his new diet. Vil, confused, is like what??? Tf?? And rook is like “yeah :D you have put on 3 pounds exactly :)”. Vil is lowkey like wtf Rook I haven’t noticed shit and rook is like “okayyy but who do you believe? Me or literally anyone else?” And vil is like “yeah you’re right, I’ll adjust my diet, thank you rook”.

The ‘issue’ with the “rook is a gaslighter” is it’s SOLELY a fandom thing (and maybe with other characters, but still, like. Vil is a world class model he CANT put on weight like a normal person could because it’ll unfortunately affect his career. The beauty world is just like that, irl too. Plus, this is something he wants for himself, even if he admits to hating the diets during his overblot, it’s still a part of who he is). Vil, himself, views rook’s behavior as a helpful thing, he appreciates Rook’s supernaturally keen eye! He might be offended but ultimately he would not have Rook as his vice-prez if he didn’t respect or admire Rook in some way.

I adore the way you draw them together!! The one where vil is like “how dare you! Just because he’s strange doesn’t mean he’s like that!” And rook is behind him with blood on his face, he’s so cute! I recently found another blog that is similar to yours that I also wanted to see if you knew bc they draw rook out the same way you do! @/fadiesismin is so cool and I think you’d love their artwork!!! Also I’m very sorry for the long-winded ask, in my defense, I’m also a Sagittarius. Rook 🫶 Me, xoxoxoxoxo!!

Sagittarius Anon! I’m sorry it took this long to reply.

First of all, thank you for enjoying our stuff and for your support! I am very happy that you like the way we portray RookVil. Their relationship is very interesting and honestly quite nuanced; we don’t usually gravitate towards ships that have this strong of a “they’ve been dating for a while” vibe, but these two are just too charming. Probably because despite them deeply understanding each other and sharing a lot of values and passions, they really aren’t a perfect couple, and we get to see it in moments like the vignette you’ve mentioned, or Rook’s lab wear vignette, or on multiple other occasions. Rook isn’t the perfect boyfriend, in fact, he is quite a menace sometimes without really meaning harm (still, he technically made Vil cry at least once); but there also isn’t another person that would get Vil as deeply as Rook does and support him as well as Rook does. What they have is special, but isn’t perfect at all.

As you already know, we also love talking about characters a lot, so I even though I am late with this reply, I am happy to have an opportunity to talk about these two and Rook specifically. So thank you for sending this ask and waiting!

I’ve seen this vignette being used as an example of Rook being gaslighting/manipulative before, and to be honest, I don’t really get this argument. I understand that the reasoning is usually that Rook sounds similar to a man that lies to his girlfriend about her being fat because he wants her to be even skinnier or just to be an asshole about it, but here is the thing: this isn’t what Rook is doing though. Gaslighter always has ulterior motive behind their manipulations, even if it’s just to mess with someone else’s head for fun or to control this person. But with Rook (both in this vignette and in general), what you see is what you get: the man is brutally honest, sometimes even too honest. Vil himself is very aware of that and has mentioned it multiple times.

It’s just like you said! Vil never lets anyone forget that his looks are important to him (both because of his own standards and because he is a model), so of course Rook would comment on something that he noticed. This is the foundation of their relationship: Rook gives Vil his feedback because Rook sees things that other people don’t. Does it mean that this feedback is always 100% necessary and Vil should change things according to how Rook critiques him? Of course not. Maybe sometimes it would be better for Vil to just take it easy and relax instead of perfecting every single thing, but this isn’t what Vil wants for himself: he doesn’t want to be pampered, he wants to be appreciated for his hard work. Rook enables Vil’s perfectionism, but don’t forget that Rook is that force in Vil’s life that doesn’t let him forget what he is doing all that for (I’ve talked about Rook being protective of Vil’s “beauty” = love for art here). Vil having a toned body is something that Rook enjoys, but this is mainly something that Vil wants himself; I kind of think that as long as Vil’s passionate and unapologetic about things that he does, Rook would find beauty in him no matter how he looks. Remember him at the end of ch6 after Vil’s grandpafication? Yeah exactly.

Alright, I digress. The point I am trying to make is that Rook is very direct with Vil, sometimes even too direct, and this is the opposite of gaslighting. Even when he suggests things “lightly”, he is still upfront about them: he doesn’t try to plant any ideas in Vil’s head.

Rook sounds and acts like a jerk sometimes, but he means well, and it’s not an excuse, just a fact. In Rook’s head, Vil always takes his direct remarks and observations very well, what’s so different this time? Even if you’ve been with someone for years, fuckups are unavoidable, especially for someone who has problems with tact.

To reiterate: could this scene be triggering or upsetting? Absolutely. Are there people who comment on other’s weight to make them insecure or make them doubt themselves? Absolutely. Is this what Rook does? Absolutely not. It just isn’t true to his character: he wouldn’t gain anything if Vil started doubting himself, in fact, he would have hated it. He doesn’t want Vil to be insecure or unsure, this is literally what he confronted him about at the end of Ch5. He also doesn’t need to do anything for Vil to trust him more than others: Vil already does. When he was saying that he knew better than anyone or anything else, he stated the truth, and this is what so fucked up about Rook: he really does know better.

It’s very important to remember that these characters have their own circumstances and their own writing, and we are fucking blessed to have a cast of characters this interesting and complex.

By the way, I am saying all of this as someone who wouldn’t mind Rook being a gaslighter and could see fanon scenarios where it could work, but those need to be very well-written not to ruin his character, because honesty is an integral part of Rook Hunt. For better or worse.

Also, I know you haven’t mentioned Jade, Anon, but since this entire discussion started with comparing the two, I wanted to note that Jade’s Dorm Uniform vignette exists. Vil literally looked at him man and decided not to trust him for one moment, even scolded Rook for even humouring the idea that Jade was telling the truth. And this is just one instance; we are constantly being reminded by everyone in cast about the fact that Jade is shady and we shouldn’t take seriously the majority of things that he says (pretty much verbatim to what Floyd said about him in the Playful Land event). Jade doesn’t care about honesty, he doesn’t care about lying either: all he cares about is what to say to make the others react in the most interesting way possible. He loves messing with people, and the world is his playground….

(I am also pretty sure that he comments on Azul’s diet; this has nothing to do with gaslighting either, just thought I’d mention that since we’re talking about this)

Anyways, thank you again for your ask, Anon! I hope this wasn’t an exhausting read. I always feel like I haven’t said everything that I wanted to say, but fortunately I still have tons of replies to write, so I’ll have my chance..! Probably.

PS. @/fadiesismin’s works are very good!!

#replies #rookvil #about characters

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asahicore · 2 years ago

Text

treasure reaction :: when their crush kisses them randomly!

pairing. ot12 idol!treasure x reader genre. tooth-rotting fluff and that's it word count. 6.3k a/n. i had gotten a request for this on my previous blog and had only posted the hyung and middle line parts, so this is a repost with the maknae line included as well <3 i had so much fun writing this and i can't wait to write more fluffy headcannons like this in the future.. also some of these are wayyy longer than others don't mind me i got carried away lmao and if u read one of these and think it'd be a good long fic then let me know i'd be more happy to write them out in more detail ok hehe enjoy and don't forget to reblog and lmk what u think please !!!!! xxxx

HYUNSUK. whenever you were around, this man became even more of a giggly mess than he already was. you’d clicked as soon as you’d met and lately, you’d been hanging out more and more, never getting bored of each other but not quite ready to put a label on your relationship just yet. this particular day, you were hanging out at his studio - his flattering excuse to hang out had been that he needed inspiration for his next song and your presence would give him just that. he’d been working on his song for about five minutes when he turned to you, saying he was unable to concentrate with you around. clearly, he hadn’t tried to keep the charade up for long. you told him you’d try to be as undistracting as possible but he shook his head and said he wanted to spend time with you anyway. and that’s how you found yourself engaged in an aegyo battle with hyunsuk, the goal being to make the other cringe as much as possible. you realized right there how whipped you must’ve been for him, considering his aegyo didn’t make you cringe at all, but rather made him all the more endearing to you. so much adoration for him washed over you that, without thinking, you placed your palms on the sides of his face and pressed a kiss to the top of nose. you quickly pulled away, both of your faces turning a deep shade of red as realization of what you’d just done dawned on you. after three seconds of looking stunned, he fell into an umpteenth burst of giggles and asked with a grin, “what was that, y/n?”. you hid your face in your hands and mumbled that it was nothing. “just ignore it,” you said. “i don’t think i want to ignore it,” he said, a smile still playing on his lips, but the lightheartedness of his tone did nothing to hide the meaning behind his words. you felt your breath hitch in your throat as his eyes drifted down from your eyes to your lips, and this, ladies, gentlemen and non-binaries, is how you had your first kiss with choi hyunsuk.

JIHOON. treasure finally had a day off and jihoon had insisted on taking you out for a shopping date. (when he’d called it that, his usual confident facade had crumbled just a bit and his cheeks had reddened as he finally fully admitted to his intentions with you.) you’d told him to spend the day relaxing at the dorms or with his family, but he’d been adamant on taking you out, promising he’d pay for everything and anything you wanted as a thank you for waiting so long to hang out with him. he took you to a shopping mall in the fancy part of seoul and you had one of the best lunches of your life there - you weren’t sure if the food was just that amazing, or if it was because the boy you were with made everything a thousand times better. after that, you’d strolled from boutique to boutique, you too shy to ask for anything, but him making up for that by constantly handing you a bunch of clothes for you to try on. you grew more and more confident as you tried more outfits on, pretending the changing rooms were your personal runway as jihoon clapped for the outfits he particularly liked - although he found you so pretty, you could wear the most disgusting piece of clothing on earth, he’d still think you were incredibly beautiful. by the end of the day, you had a wardrobe full of new amazing outfits, and you wondered how jihoon still had a cent left in his bank account. you insisted on paying for coffee as if that changed anything, and he’d said it wasn’t necessary but he found it endearing how resolute you were about getting him that latte. as you waited in line to order, you noticed how he was carrying all of your bags without a single complaint, and you were just so grateful for him in that moment that you leaned in and pressed a peck to his cheek, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as you pulled away. as soon as he’d felt your lips, his heart had started beating like crazy, but he didn’t want to lose his cool in front of you so he simply looked down at you and said, “i should take you out more often if this is how you’ll thank me.” let’s just say you went on many, many more dates after that.

YOSHI. after not seeing you for a few weeks, yoshi missed you more than he wanted to admit (even though he’d tell anyone who’d listen just how much he missed you). you knew he was busy with comeback preparations and told him you could wait, but one afternoon, he decided to sneak out of practice, knowing he’d get told off by his leaders and managers but missing you too much to care. he made sure you were actually free that day and told you to meet at your favorite hang-out spot, an underground arcade and food court. his heart was pounding at the idea of seeing you again after such a long time, and when his eyes finally found you, arms crossed as you waited for him at the entrance of the building, a huge grin spread onto his face. you could tell something was different by the way he hugged you when he got to your level - the hug was a bit longer, a bit tighter than usual, and you felt your heart swell when you realized that maybe, just maybe, he liked you the same way you liked him. you pulled away after a few seconds, his arms still around you as you smiled at each other. you did all the things you usually did: compete on the dance game machines (he always won) and on the car racing machines (you always won), then tried to win the other a stuffed toy from the claw machines (neither of you ever did), then ate an unhealthy amount of french fries as you sipped on a strawberry milkshake and he on a vanilla one, even though you always stole a bit from each other, and both ended up with a strawberry-vanilla shake. everything you did was the same as usual - but it felt different. his eyes lingered on your face, his hands found a way to sneak themselves around your waist. when you decided to take a few pictures at the photobooth, he insisted that you sit on his lap rather than side by side like usual, and you did, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you firmly by the waist. after two shots, you decided to take your courage in your hands and finally do something about this tension between the two of you, so you leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek. but he must’ve felt your stare on him, so just as you leaned in close to him, he turned his face, and your lips ended up on his. you both pulled away at the same time, the photobooth taking a picture of your stunned expressions. however, his shock quickly turned into giddiness as he added another coin to start the booth again, and just as the lights went off, he kissed you on the lips, on purpose this time. “that way, we have pictures of our last seconds as friends and of our first seconds as a couple,” he’d explained afterwards.

JUNKYU. this was another normal day for you and your best friend: just hanging out on his bed, laying in increasingly random but comfortable positions, stalking your old classmates on facebook or watching niche asmr videos for hours and ordering your comfort food when your stomach growls became too loud and painful to ignore. this time, you were separately scrolling through tiktok, only ever talking to show the other something you think they’d like. you stumbled upon a new trend, one where two friends sat together and the one making the tiktok kissed their friend when certain lyrics of the song played, hoping they will kiss them back. you glanced at junkyu - maybe he didn’t know the trend, because the sound coming from your phone hadn’t seemed to catch his attention. it painfully reminded you of just how much you’d been wanting to kiss your best friend immediately. how could you not when he was so adorable? wiping the corner of your lips when you ate messily, the way he laughed when you made stupid jokes, his warm hugs whenever you had to go home; it all made you fall more and more for him, but like any person with feelings for their best friend, you knew it was risky to admit them to him. so you stayed quiet - until that day, at least. you thought, “if he doesn’t want to kiss me, at least i can play it off as doing the trend.” so you sat up and asked him to do the same, sitting at the edge of the bed together. you prompted your phone on one of his shelves, making sure the audio and video were cropped right before you pressed play and ignoring him as he bugged you with questions. “you’ll see, just sit there and uh… listen to the audio. listen carefully, okay?” you instructed quietly. he obediently did as told, an excited expression on his face. when he realized he knew this song and what lyrics came next, a huge grin spread onto his lips, and before he knew it, you were leaning in and kissing him. neither of you knew that the other had been waiting for this exact moment, but he kissed you back instantly, even pulling you back in when you started leaning away and smiling into the whole kiss, the tiktok long forgotten as the music played over and over in the background. long story short, this was how make-out sessions became a thing when you and junkyu, your best-friend-turned-boyfriend, hung out.

MASHIHO. finally back home in japan for a month-long break, mashiho was planning on spending as much time with his family and his friend group from high school, which you just so happened to be in. once upon a time, you and mashiho had been very close. it was very obvious to all of your friends that you liked each other, but neither of you had dared to make a move, scared of damaging your friendship, and before you could gather the courage to confess your feelings, he had been whisked away to south korea to finish his training and debut as a member of treasure. this was the first time you saw him in real life and not on a screen in almost two years, but it only took a couple of days for your feelings to come back as if they had never disappeared in the first place - which they probably hadn’t, anyway. it’d been a week since he’d come back, and you were all hanging out at the basketball court of your old high school at 10 pm after having gone out for dinner. most were playing a game of basketball but you and two of your other friends had decided to hang back, saying you’d eaten too much to move around when you really just couldn’t be asked. mashiho, who was used to destroying absolutely everyone on the court, was of course surprised when his friends were able to stop some of his attacks and shoot perfectly even from afar. they took a small break and you told him how they’d practiced during his absence so that they could finally play an actual game against him without being ridiculed. the smirk on mashiho’s face as he said, “alright then, bring it on,” was very unhealthy for your poor heart who started beating a thousand times a minute, the simple action launching a horde of butterflies in your stomach. you watched the game, and more precisely him, with a lot more attention after that, shouting his name for encouragement and clapping when his team won a point. when he winked and waved at you after landing a shot, you really felt like the girlfriend of an american athlete at one of his college games, and you liked that feeling a little too much. you were so invested in this game that when his team finally won, practically all thanks to him, the adrenaline made you jump up from your seat on the ground to run over to him and press a congratulatory kiss to his cheek. this already made everyone cheer louder than the game did, so imagine just how loud your friends were when mashiho, shaking off his surprise, grinned wider, took you by the waist, and kissed you on the lips.

JAEHYUK. similarly to junkyu, i imagine jaehyuk as being a besties before lovers type of guy, except that he really treats you like his girlfriend but just doesn’t have the guts to actually call you that. he always takes you on ‘hangouts’ that are more like dates, facetimes you at random hours of the day and night, calls you pretty whether you’re dressed up or not; he just does everything right, basically. everything but one thing, which is to make things official, and you’d be lying if you said his behavior didn’t worry a little bit. you’d heard too many stories of girls being led on by their friends who act like boyfriends without the label and then turn around and make her think she’s delusional when she asks them about it. you really doubted jaehyuk could act like that, and in your head the worst-case scenario was that he was just oblivious to what he was doing and thought it normal, even though his friends always told you it was as clear as a sunny day he liked you and was just too scared to make the final move. this was why you had made up your mind that on your next date-like meeting with him, you’d finally gather enough courage for the both of you and act on your feelings, whether that meant straight-up confessing or doing something that couldn’t be seen as ambiguous in terms of where you two stood. it hadn’t even been a couple days since you’d taken this decision when he called you, asking if you were free next sunday, his nearest day off. as always, everything went perfectly, from his compliment on your new outfit, to the diner he’d picked out, to the way he made you laugh and your heart skip a beat. jaehyuk, however, wasn’t the type to flirt just to make you happy, but also so he could hear it back, and so he always found ways to make you compliment him as well - the fun part was to tease him and pretend you hadn’t noticed his new haircut or that you didn’t like his outfit that much just to see him pout and then grin widely when you said you were joking and that, yes, he looked very handsome. “oh yeah? so handsome that you wanna kiss me, i bet?” - this was another one of his favorite lines. you usually dismissed him with a roll of your eyes and told him to shut up, but today, you stayed quiet, thinking this might be your chance. he took your silence as flusteredness and added, “oh my god, you totally wanna kiss m-”, but you effectively interrupted him with a quick peck on the lips, shutting him up for good as you leaned back in your seat and continued eating as if nothing happened. he stared at you blankly, mouth slightly open, and touched his fingers to his lips like the female lead in a kdrama. without a word, he leaned in as you did seconds prior and pecked you just as quickly as you had, making you the shocked one this time. “if you get to do it, i get to do it too,” he said, pouting down at his food. when your gazes found each other, you burst into giggles, and after you calmed down, he very cutely threatened “just wait until it’s the two of us. i’ll show you what a real kiss is.” let’s just say that from that day on, there was no hesitation as to whether you two were just friends or dating (hint: it’s the latter).

ASAHI. no matter how much he liked you, asahi had a tendency to get very immersed into whatever he was doing at the moment and sort of forget about your presence in the room. in his own somewhat awkward words, he’d tried to reassure you that it was just because he felt extremely comfortable around you and didn’t feel the need to keep you entertained, that he was happy when you just chilled together, each of you simply doing their own thing. you were usually fine with it too, happy to just be with him, but this one day, you’d gone over to hang out at his dorm so you could spend actual time chatting and hanging out with him, not just scrolling through social media while he worked on his latest painting. you’d whined about it when he started painting but he told you he’d be done in ten minutes. ten minutes passed, then another ten, and another ten. you’d call out to him every now and then but he’d always repeat the same thing - “i’ll be done soon.” your complaints barely reached his ears, your whines earned a mere chuckle, so when you’d had enough, you’d gotten up and said, “fine, guess i’ll just go hang out with jaehyuk then,” sure that that would get his attention. but he just replied with an unbothered, “sure, he’s probably in the kitchen.” you scoffed at his nonchalance, and decided desperate times called for desperate measures, so you stomped over to where he was sitting and pressed an aggressive kiss on his cheek. this finally got his attention and when he looked at you with a stunned expression, you were scared you’d completely overstepped your boundaries - it wasn’t like you two were actually dating, even though every member and their mom were telling you to. but his face immediately softened as he took in your small frown and pout, realizing he’d been very negligent of you. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to upset you. let’s hang out now.” his words already warmed your heart, but when you saw he’d been drawing a picture of you from when you had gone to a park together, you thought you couldn’t get more in love with him. later on, he teased you about your method of getting his attention, but he definitely didn’t complain when you did it again, practically lending you his cheek (because he was too shy to give you his lips) for you to peck.

YEDAM. you realized that bang yedam liked to show off, just a little bit, when he invited you to watch practice at his company building for the fifth time. he liked impressing you with the new intense choreography they’d just learned or with his angelic vocals that never failed to make goosebumps appear on your skin. the members teased him about having ten times more energy when you were around, but your smile and claps as you watched him and the praises you gave him afterwards made it all worth it. he’d liked you since he met you at school - you still remember his trembling hands and his deep blush as he asked you if you wanted to come to his practice for the first time - but seeing you getting along with his members, learning the dance from mashiho, copying hyunsuk’s rap and laughing at asahi’s and jeongwoo’s antics, it all made him like you even more; you fit right in. he asked them what to do about these feelings, and they all advised him that next time he asked you out, it should be just the two of you. yoshi, in all his wisdom, told him that having you over at the company like he usually did was a good idea because it was familiar and comfortable, but that it could be at a time where he practiced individually. doyoung added that he should sing a love song as way of confessing, and everybody groaned at the cheesy idea, but yedam, for some reason, thought it was the greatest, most romantic thing ever and thanked his friend, thumb on his phone already pressing your contact, ready to call and ask you out. you said yes immediately, heart pounding at the idea of it finally being just you two after months of hanging out in groups, whether that was with your friends at school or with his members during practice. when you got there, you talked for a bit, the electric tension in the air making you both feel giddy. he warmed up before he got the song ready and told you to “listen to the lyrics carefully” with a very pointed look. you couldn’t contain your smile as you nodded, excited for whatever he had planned. lo and behold, you had the honor of not only being the first to hear the piano, demo, yedam solo version of the one and only darari, but also of being the inspiration behind the song. when it was over, yedam turned to you with a sheepish smile, asking “did you like it?” and being answered with a chaste kiss to his lips. his hands found your waist as if by instinct and, as he looked up at you with wide eyes and you looked down at him with a huge grin, you replied, “i loved it.”

DOYOUNG. nobody will ever convince me that doyoung doesn’t give the biggest university campus hearthrob vibes. i know this whole post was idol!treasure but just for him i’m gonna make an exception cause… yeah. doyoung is that guy in your really boring class that you only go to because he’s there, even though you never speak to him. all you’ve done is gaze longingly at him and look away abruptly when he catches you staring, so you’re sure he must think you’re crazy until one day when your professor announces a group project in pairs and doyoung swings around on his chair, looking right at you and smiling as if you were friends that already knew they’d partner up. you look around and behind you, trying to see if his smile is actually directed at someone else, but everyone’s already speaking to their partner. when your eyes find doyoung again, he’s already walking towards you, grabbing the empty chair beside you and plopping himself down on it. “wanna do this together?” his smile is blinding and all you can do is nod slowly and mumble out “s-sure.” and that’s how you become friends with doyoung, and how your infatuation with him turns into an ever-growing crush. working on a project together leads to meeting at the library for study dates, leads to taking coffee then lunch breaks, leads to texting random things during the day, leads to inviting each other to parties, leads to hanging out outside of school when the project is over, leads to you being head over heels for him. it doesn’t help that along with being ridiculously handsome, doyoung also happens to be a gentleman who knows your coffee order by heart, is easy to work with, makes you laugh, and flirts with you shamelessly. you’d like to say that after a few weeks, comments such as “you look pretty today, y/n” don’t affect you or that you don’t feel anything when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, but that would be the world’s biggest lie. the fated kiss happens at half past midnight on a tuesday during exam season. there was an essay you had completely forgotten about, and you only had twenty hours to do all the reading, come up with a topic, and write it out - the professor didn’t accept extensions, because they were evil. you had briefly told doyoung about this, but you just thought he’d send you a sweet text of support - not that he’d show up at the library, two cups of coffee in hand. “here, they’re both for you. motivation and comfort,” he grinned, placing them on the corner of your table. “oh my god, doyoung, i could kiss you right now,” you breathed, heading straight for your first cup. you almost spat out the coffee when he replied, “then do it.” you don’t know if it was the deliriousness of having been awake for such a long time, or if it was the adrenaline of having to finish an assignment on time, or the fact that he still managed to look good at midnight under the bright yellow fluorescent lights of the library, but you did it. you stood up and pressed your lips firmly against his for a few seconds before pulling away and returning to your essay. your cheeks were burning and you were too shy to look back at him, the realization of what you had just done hitting you. “y/n?” “yeah?” “is that it?” you can feel his gaze burning holes through your head, but still you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.”i don’t have time right now. sorry.” a beat passes and you pretend to read a paper, but none of the words on your screen passes. “then will you come to my dorm when you’re done?” another beat. “yeah. okay.” “okay.” he kisses the top of your head and whispers ‘good luck,’ and your cheeks manage to burn even more. you think you might combust right then and there, but at least you have an even better incentive than a good grade to finish this assignment. ok now who would read this if i turned it into a full fic…

HARUTO. the gods of love and fanfiction were on your side when they made you besties with haruto’s sister. he was back in japan for his break, and on his second day home, his sister asked if you could come over for dinner. you usually saw each other every day, if not at school then at each other’s houses or in town, but that hadn’t been possible the day before since it was her brother’s arrival, and she was already having withdrawal symptoms. their parents gladly agreed - you were like a second daughter to them at this point, much like your friend was to you parents. he hadn’t really thought twice about it at first; he remembered you as his sister’s shy friend that smiled a lot but didn’t talk very much. well, you still smiled a lot but were more talkative now; and either you had changed immensely in the year since he’d seen you last, or he just didn’t have that good of a memory, because when he saw you again, he himself grew shy because of how pretty he found you. his cheeks reddened when his parents coddled him or bragged about his achievements, his head hung low in embarrassment when usually he’d have welcomed the compliments with open arms. “gosh, you need to eat more, son! it’s like they don’t feed you over there,” his mom grumbled, scooping a huge portion of rice in his bowl. he wanted to dig a hole in the ground when you giggled at his mom’s antics. he grew more and more comfortable around you as time passed, considering you were over at their house at least three times a week, but he still found himself unable to get a full sentence out while looking you in the eyes. the way he was around you was so different from his usual personality that it was obvious to everyone that he had a crush on you. you found him extremely endearing, but knew there was no point trying to pursue what might be there, since he’d have to leave soon. it was only on his last night home that you gathered enough courage for the both of you. it was late in the night and you were sleeping over at your best friend’s house, but the coffee you had stupidly had at 6pm was keeping you awake. quietly, you walked out of your friend’s bedroom and into the kitchen to get a glass of water, but sound from the living room distracted you. you took a peak in and found haruto on the couch, watching an action anime. he almost had a heart attack when you called out his name, not expecting anyone to be up at this time. “what are you still doing up? shouldn’t you be getting some sleep before you leave?” you asked, sitting down next to him on the couch. if you couldn’t sleep, might as well stay here. “i can never sleep before i go back to korea. i love being there but i just… i hate waking up and knowing today’s the day i leave home.” it surprises him how easily the truth comes out, but it feels nice to put it out there - he doesn’t want to cause his parents sorrow by telling them how much he wants to stay even though he can’t. “you want to make it feel like your time here is longer or something? so you stay up…” you say, looking at the bright colors of the tv. “pretty much, yeah.” you ask him what anime he’s watching and scooch closer to him, letting a comfortable silence fall between you after he’s answered, the only sound in the room coming from the tv. after a couple of episodes, you feel sleep wash over you, and stretch your arms, letting a big yawn out. “going to bed?” haruto asks, pausing when the next episode starts to play, and you nod. “you know, ruto,” you start, and his heart skips a beat at the familiar nickname - it’s a lot nicer when you say it rather than his mom. “it’s normal to feel sad when you leave home. but it’ll still be here, waiting for you to come back.” you smile at him. “i’ll be here too.” you get up, but before you leave the room, you turn back towards you, and lean down to press a soft kiss to his nose, a feature of his you’d always secretly loved. you grin as you watch his face break into surprise, and wish him goodnight, chuckling. “g-goodnight, y/n.”

JEONGWOO. as soon as he’d stepped into the classroom on the first day back to school and saw you there, jeongwoo knew he’d have the fattest crush on you. your carefree laughter as you talked with your friends, the glint in your eyes, the sound of your voice. he liked everything about you immediately, and that feeling only grew as time passed, even though you’d never had a proper conversation. always the class clown despite his idol status, he never failed to bring attention to himself with his funny comments and reactions, yet somehow managed to stay likable and not become that obnoxious guy who doesn’t know yet to stop. but when he was with you, he grew quiet. if you were on the same group, he’d barely look at you, only talking to you when absolutely needed. naturally, you thought he hated you. but when he found out you lived in the same neighborhood as his dorm, he’d shyly asked his manager if he could walk home from school once in a while rather than be driven home, and then he’d shyly asked you if you guys could walk home together, taking you by surprise. rare were the days he actually got out of school at a normal time, but when he did, he always waited outside the classroom door for you, earning him a few whoops from his friends and hushed giggles from yours. the first few times, he stayed pretty quiet, and you almost wondered why he’d asked you in the first place. but soon enough, his more playful side, the one you’d see at school or on t-map episodes (although he didn’t need to know you watched those), started to come out, and he’d talk with you about anything between the earth and the sun. you found yourself agreeing on the same crazy things, making up insane conspiracy theories, going back and forth on a topic no sane human would talk about and each sentence you uttered only adding to the craziness, both of you egging the other on and nodding as if you had unearthed the planet’s wildest truths. when you got to your house, you were so high on the incredible things you and jeongwoo had discovered that you pressed a quick peck to his cheek, thanking him for walking you home. before either of you could realize what you’d just done, you’d already closed the door behind you, leaving a very stunned jeongwoo to stand at your door for a few seconds, two fingers on the spot your lips had blessed his cheek and a smile growing on his face. his hyungs never heard the end of it that evening.

JUNGHWAN. i have no idea what it is about the three youngest members that give me huge ‘shy-when-in-love’ vibes, but junghwan is no exception. it was your last year of high school and even though you were drowning in homework and college applications, your parents had made you get a part-time job to help with the eventual university fees. luckily for you, your mother had a friend whose hairdresser had a cousin that worked at YG entertainment, and could get you a job as a part-time barista in the building café. he just needed to make sure you weren’t completely unqualified and wouldn’t freak out whenever you saw an idol, and it was set. you can’t lie, the first few times a winner or ikon, or worse, blackpink, member walked in, you had to really concentrate to not spill the coffee everywhere out of nerves. but it didn’t take you long to realize they were just regular people craving caffeine like you, and the fact that your coworkers and the company staff were completely unfazed helped as well. treasure, as the newest and most active group of YG, came by a lot, and you were glad to notice they were always friendly and polite with you - your friend who was a huge teume would be enthralled by the information. however, even if they weren’t all talkative extroverts, there was one member who was particularly quiet: junghwan. you thought nothing of it until one day, walking in for the start of your shift, you saw him chatting with the other barista, but as soon as he saw you, he grew quieter, answering in hums and short sentences, glancing at you in what seemed a nervous fashion. since you were a new addition, you chalked it up to him being shy around strangers. but then, he started coming in in the evening, when the café was relatively empty, and sat at a table after ordering rather than just getting his drink and leaving. he got out his homework and would simply work on it for thirty or so minutes, most of the time alone, sometimes with one of the older members. you didn’t say anything, and after a month, he finally talked to you for something else that his coffee order. you placed his drink (always an iced choco) down on his table, and as you were about to walk away, he called out your name. “yeah?” you said, turning around quickly, perhaps too quickly. the fact that he came in at such quiet hours meant that you had much leisure time to do nothing other than stare at him, unbeknownst to him. you knew he was a handsome guy, but being able to observe him so closely made you notice so many of his cute habits, and before you knew it, you were developing a crush. “how do you like it here?” he asked, and that was it. he forgot his homework as you answered his question, which prompted more from him, which prompted more from you. after that, you got into the habit of talking every time he came in, venting about your problems, bonding over shared interests, laughing at cat memes together. more often than not, this resulted in him being late for practice or never getting around to his homework. since you were in the same year level and he didn’t have as much time to study as you did, you also helped him with subjects he struggled with. you’d spent a week going over a history lesson with him, which had started out with him hopeless but he grew more and more confident about the upcoming test, thanks to your help. he had been really nervous about it, so when he barged in the café, a huge grin on his face and graded paper showing a bright red ‘B+’ in hand, you were so proud that you couldn’t help but run to him and take his face in your hands, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek. his eyes grew wide and he looked down at you in disbelief, but before you could run away and hide from what you just did, his grin found its way back to his face and he took you in his arms for the warmest hug you’d ever received. “i couldn’t have done it without you, y/n.”

permanent taglist: @ozymandia-s @bbujiikseu @lalalalawon @sd211

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vivalarevolution · 2 years ago

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𝓣𝔀𝓸'𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓷𝔂, 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮'𝓼 𝓪 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓭

Tyler Galpin x Addams Reader

Request: „Xavier has had a obvious crush on y/n and puts himself in constant competition with Tyler y/n’s boyfriend which really makes Tyler show his true over protective side of y/n, that she loves to mess with to see how far she can get away with things. One day she decides to mess with Tyler like usual, flirting back with Xavier just to get a reaction out of Tyler until he breaks. Telling Xavier off holding y/n close to him as be always did. After Xavier and him are done arguing Tyler says nothing pulling y/n along with him as they walk to his car together to leave. Tyler still hasn’t spoken a word to y/n in the car on their way back to his house making y/n worry she’s actually gone to far this time. They get back to his house and he’s mad but not at exactly at y/n. He explains how he’s completely obsessed with y/n to her. Then they end up having rough makeup sex because I’m a slut for smut ofc.‟

A/N: Request written by anon, whom I thank in advance for the detail she/he put into it. It much easier writing when I know what people want or like so I don't disappoint my readers. I hope you all gonna enjoy it. Please remember english is not my native language, then can be some mistakes.

Work contains smut, minors do not interact.

She was in the Weathervane again, as was her habit. Sipping her black coffee, occasionally tapping her long fingernails against the white mug in which the hot drink was served.

She looked like a living painting, so beautiful and impossibly perfect, despite her indifferent eyes and grim face. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't the only one who thought so.

Tyler watched as one of the Nevermore students flirted with her in an extremely overt way, not even hiding how much he cared about Y/n's attention, his Y/n.

She was Wednesday's cousin, which made her Addams, although despite her last name, she did not share much of her family's traits, but Xavier didn't mind. The moment his eyes saw her, he was intoxicated by her, not even hiding how she affected him ,and Galpin hated it him for that.

But the girl was having a surprisingly lot of fun with it, even though she shouldn't have. Yet, she couldn't help it. Her dark heart filled with an unfamiliar warmth as she watched her boyfriend take her in his arms, each time the brunette took one step too many or spoke one word too far. She loved to feed on his overprotectiveness and possessiveness as if it were the sweetest dessert.

So when Thorpe decided to sit in her booth, smiling warmly which made his face even more handsome, the teenager started her little game. Smiling softly, she turned her attention to him. The coffee mug had long been forgotten, and the hand that held it was now resting her chin to feign interest in the words that were pouring out of his mouth. And even though their were intoxicatingly sweet and warm, Y/n didn't pay much attention to them.

They weren't from Tyler, so their wasn't of much value to her.

-You spend an awful lot of time in this cafe - said Xavier suddenly - Aren't you bored of constantly sitting in the booth and looking out the window?

-And you don't get bored of running all the time? - she asked, frowning slightly - You tire your body over and over again. There are other activities that can make you tired than constantly getting to point a or b - she concluded jokingly, a spark of malice sparking in her eyes.

Xavier smiled to himself. Sometimes he wondered if these little hints, the girl put in her statements was on purpose or maybe it was pure coincidence.

-I find that rather reassuring - he replied, bringing his body closer to hers, even though there was a table between them.

-What about drawing? Doesn't that calm you down?- she asked, also closing their distance as much as she could.

-Well, it stopped recently. You see my dreams are haunted more and more often by a girl who messed with my head. I only think about her - he confessed looking at her as she was one of the wonders of the world.

Y/n could’ve felt the intense, obsessive, even maniacal gaze on herself, which filled her black heart and soul with a surprisingly large amount of warmth, which she accepted with a shockingly great willingness.

-Oh, personally for me nightmares are something wonderful, the thrill when someone is chasing you is incomparable - confessed the girl with a smile - But if night visons mess with your head just as nightmares do, I think I can do something about it - she admitted, now arranging her head on both hands, so that the breasts between them were pressed together - Our Great Aunt Calpurnia. She was burned as a witch in 1706. They said she danced naked in the town square and enslaved the minister. I learned some of her tricks.

-I don't doubt it - Xavier muttered.

-But... something for something- she said, smiling subtly.

-Anything you want - he replied without breaking eye contact with her.

-I want you to paint me - she stated, even though she knew perfectly well that she was the object of his affection, but teasing Tyler was all too tempting -And if I remember the references correctly. I like you to paint me like one of your French girls - she added quietly but enough for the barista at the counter to catch her words.

The brunette let out a heavy breath. Watching Xavier turn red in the face and his eyes glowing with lust, he told himself enough was enough.

Alone with the two Nevermore students, he wasn't afraid to hit the countertop with a washed mug to show his annoyance, he wasn't afraid to approach the table with a look that could kill, revealing the much darker inside that the sheriff's son was hiding.

-We're closing - the boy said, even though it sounded more like a snarl -You should go Thorpe. I believe your headmistress won't be pleased if you don't come back - even though it sounded like a decent explanation, Y/n sensed that hidden speck of menace, and she wasn't the only one.

-Well, I'll take Y/n with me - he said, standing up, and the difference in height showed up immediately, but Galpin didn't care, his demeanor and aura fully made up for the lack of a few inches -She's a Nevermore student too.

-I’ll take care of her. You don't have to worry - he stated, grabbing her waist as she got up from the chair - But thank you for caring about my girl so much. Almost like you were in love with her.

-What, are you jealous? - Xavier asked defiantly, looking at the older boy.

-Jealous? Please, you don't even exist to me - he stated and his voice became lower, more menacing -Be my guest, have feelings for Y/n. But she will never love you back.

The green-eyed boy clenched his hand into a fist.

Between the two you could feel the heaviness of the whole situation and the girl quickly realized that the jokes ended right there.

Placing her hand on her boyfriend's chest, she tried to push him away, to silently let him know to stop, to give him affection, to make him forget about the brunette, but he didn't budge.

-It's weird because lately she's been giving me more attention than you. And I doubt you know what goes on within the walls of the school -Thrope confessed.

The whole body under Y/n's fingers tensed, which made her look into Tyler's eyes, which were directed towards her friend.

-Xavier - said the teenager - Just go...please - she added and only then he left her with a heavy heart, which drove the sheriff's son even more furious, seeing how easily he obeyed her requests, how devoted he was to win her approval - Ty - she whispered after a long moment - My beloved, I adore seeing you in a possessive state with eyes that can kill but not this time. Xavier is wrong, do you understand? You're the only one that holds my dark, cold heart.

Addams grabbed his cheek, trying to elicit any reaction from him again, but in vain because he didn't move, not responding to any of her touches.

The ride in the car was even worse than the silence the teenager gave her in the cafe. Y/n could only watch as Galpin reacted to her hand brushes and soothing words, or rather, how he didn't react. Her pale hand desperately held Tyler's, and it had been there for quite some time, but he hadn't held her hand or kissed her fingertips like he usually did.

When they finally arrived at his house, they found no one. Her boyfriend's father was almost never at home and she knew how he lamented it, but now she was grateful for his absence because she didn't know what would happen behind closed doors.

The brunette took her straight to his bedroom.

-My beloved? - whispered the girl, stubbornly trying to reach the teenager - I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings - she confessed, hugging his back - I understand if you're angry with me.

-I'm not -he finally said, sighing -I'm not mad at you, maybe more at myself- he said helplessly -When I first saw you, you took my breath away. I was crazy about you, obsessed with you, and when you agreed to be my girlfriend, I was the happiest guy on the planet. Maybe I just didn't love you enough.

-Oh Tyler - the girl said, burying her face between his shoulder blades -I just wanted to tease you. I didn't know I'd hurt you with it, I thought it would anger you.

-You wanted to anger me? - he asked as if offended and annoyed him at the same time - All this to get reaction out of me? - he muttered, turning around to look into her eyes.

Galpin suddenly grabbed her by the neck, not to hurt her, but to show that he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Feeling his large hand on her neck, she sighed and clenched her legs. She had dreamed of a darker version of Tyler, and now he stood before her in all his glory, ready to devour her.

-I want you to mark me, to show me who I really belong to - Y/n confessed, her eyes misting with desire -Please, Tyler.

-Oh, I'll show you exactly who you belong to - he whispered into her ear before attacking her neck with wet kisses and harsh bites.

The girl tilted her head back to give him more space as he assaulted her neck. Her hands found their place on the brunette's head, pulling his curls with her fingers, which made him growl from time to time, making the wetness between her legs only get stronger.

Tyler's own arms went to her waist, gliding his hot hands under the material of her clothes, filling her skin with a pleasant burning sensation. His fingers efficiently pulled every material in their path, so soon after Addams stood naked in the boy's arms, shamelessly enjoying his greed.

-Tyler -she whimpered as his lips left her body.

-On the bed, ass up - he said firmly.

Y/n shivered at the low tone of his voice ,complying to his command without question, wanting to appease him. Galpin watched as she obediently placed herself in the designated position, wiggling her hips suggestively, inviting him. And he gladly accepted her invitation.

Feeling his touch on her skin, she waited patiently.

-Ahh!- she squealed suddenly as his hand made contact with her asscheck.

-Who do you belong to?- Tyler asked.

-To you -she said, burying her face in the sheet beneath her.

Boy slapped her again, but this time she moaned loudly, delighted with the combination of pain and pleasure.

-Louder -he commanded, slapping her yet again, too intoxicated by the way her firm skin lay between his fingers.

-You. I belong to you - she said, looking at him with lust.

-Good girl - grunted the brunette, undressing himself after a while when Y/n watched, absorbing his muscular figure with her eyes - Get up princess - he added after a while, approaching and grabbing her neck.

The teenager connected their lips in a slow and sensual kiss. Their lips touched again and again, and their tongues only brushed occasionally, sending shivers down both lovers' backs.

-I want you to know how sorry I am - she confessed, breaking their caress.

-Don't worry. You'll have a chance to do that - he said, stroking her cheek, his thumb hooking over her bottom lip.

After a while, Tyler climbed onto the bed, arranging the girl as he wanted, which made her turn her back to her boyfriend, supporting herself on his thighs as her womanhood was exposed centrally in front of his face.

Y/n looked back, waiting for further instructions, but she only got a single smile before he dived deep into her folds, licking, kissing and sucking. She moaned in response, clenching her hands on the skin under her fingers, before she bent down to his member, repeating the same actions that the brunette was doing.

She tried to fit it all in, focusing on the task, but it was simply too big and she was too inexperienced. Catching her breath, she breathed deeply, moaning and whimpering alternately through the wet tongue of the boy who was devouring her like he was starving.

Covering her mouth with one of her hands, she tried to drown out the scream that wanted to escaped her mouth, only to actually scream when Galpin's hand met her clit.

-You do that again and I'll tie your hands and feet, and then I'll take you so that the only thing left for you is to be silent through your sore throat - he warned, gliding with his fingers around her entrance, seeing if she understood the message.

In response, Y/n moaned loudly and shamelessly, arching her back. Her climax was coming and going, making the feeling even more intense.

The brown-haired man outlined his assault, slurping her juices with great craving, making her orgasm approach unrestrainedly fast, too fast. The only warning was a silent cry before Tyler's chin and mouth were covered with a clear liquid.

-I'm sorry...I made a mess- she said in a hoarse voice, closing her eyes.

-Sweet mess- he said, carefully sliding her hips down so he could sit himself.

Y/n immediately took the opportunity, falling on his torso, burying her face in the crook of his neck, moaning directly into his ear as two fingers glided over her swollen clitoris before moving inside, stroking her tight and wet walls.

-Tyler - she whispered -Too much...

-One more- he said tenderly into her hair -Will you do it for me, hmm?- he asked, and she nodded sluggishly - My good girl, taking my fingers so well. Letting me stretch her out so I can enter her, right?

-Anything for you -she sputtered as her legs began to tremble with the intensity of another orgasm that came much faster than the previous one, pulling strings of pain that so deliciously completed the pool of sensations.

Galpin stared at her eyes, which were clouded with lust, closing again and again. His hand involuntarily went to her face, gliding over the hot cheek with his thumb. The teenage girl snuggled into his palm, sighing.

-You're tired. Do you want to stop?- brunette asked worriedly.

-You're not done marking me - she stated with a lazy smile, running her hand along her legs -You must mark me deep inside, my love.

A soft growl was the last warning before her back met the mattress again and her legs were placed on the boy's loins, who in one rough move entered her, filling her to the brim.

Tyler moved in her with strong and long strokes, watching as if hypnotized as her breasts bounced with each stroke and the way the outline of his member glided in her lower abdomen.

-I'm so close - Y/n moaned, lifting her head up heavily, begging for kisses.

The teenager granted her request by kissing her swollen lips, pausing every now and then to listen to how beautiful his name sounded when she repeated it like a prayer.

-You're squeezing me so tight - he growled into her mouth -You like how I treat you,hmm? You like it when I use you like you're just a rag doll. Mine to ruin and destroy, mine alone.

-Yours, oh god, only yours - she said, almost on the verge of tears.

The third orgasm that took over her body was overwhelming. Making her see the stars, almost losing consciousness. The boy was still moving, wanting to feel the feeling of wet walls tightening like ticks as long as possible before he did what his girlfriend begged him for. He marked her insides.

Y/n moaned gently, feeling the sudden warmth that poured from inside of her, directly between her asschecks. Holding Galpin's neck, she pulled him to her, snuggling into his larger body, which covered her form completely.

-I love you - she said after a while, stroking his hair.

-I love you too, very much - the sheriff's son replied, kissing her breasts and sucking her skin from time to time to create additional marks on her body.

-Tyler - she said, and he murmured confirming that he was listening -Next time, don't torture yourself, beloved. That's my job.

#wednesday imagine #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin #tyler galpin smut #wednesday #wednesday x reader #wednesday smut #xavier thorpe #teen romance #fanfiction #wednesday netflix #wednesday fanfic #tyler galpin x fem!reader #addams family #addams reader #tyler galpin x you #wednesday netflix x reader

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marwhoa · 2 years ago

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request: Leo x gn!reader who's pressure-touch-starved in the way that if you put a weighted blanket on them, their brain would short-circuit. What happens when Leo decides to use Y/N as a mattress? 😏 ~🌺👸

🝮 “ skin hunger touch-starved ”

rise!leo x touch-starved!reader

author’s note: woot! another request after how long? has it been a week since i posted? oop— my bad y’all, i was in break but ended up a tad bit on the lazy side uwu 💕 this is moderately short, but i would say i had fun with the extra details in the leo-donnie convo :33 as always, i hope you enjoy reading, and consider maybe sending in a requesty-wuesty~?

word count: 1.0k

“ I just don’t get it, Donnie! ”

Leo complained, laying on his plastron in the middle of his brother’s lab—who, let the records show, was not enjoying the company at all (at least, if he was, he would never admit to it.) He huffed, propping his head up on his hand while the other hand traced circles on the floor. He expected to pick up dust but was a little weirded out to find it perfectly spotless.

You could eat a dinner plate on this damn floor?

“ Y/N’s been so sluggish and stressed out lately—more than usual! And they’ve even been awake as late as I’m up, and I’m nocturnal, Donnie, nocturnal! ”

“ Insomniac, ‘Nardo, not nocturnal. ”

“ Same difference! ”

“ No—What? Heavy sigh. ”

Donnie grouched, spinning in his chair to face his brother who splayed out on his floor. Don’t think for a second he didn’t notice those grubby little fingers rubbing his floor.

“ If I help you, will you promise to leave me alone? ”

Quite literally grasping at straws, Donnie dragged his hands down his face then rested his gaze upon the all-too-smiley blue-banded brother. Leo gave a nod and sat up, crossing his legs.

“ Tell me again what’s going on. ”

This time it was Donnie’s turn to rest his head in his palm, legs crossed and elbow pressing into his knee.

Leo cleared his throat.

“ As I said, they’re much more stressed than usual and not sleeping at well. They flinch when I touch them, but I don’t know if they dislike it or are just, I don’t know, surprised? ”

“ Who wouldn’t be surprised if you touched them? ”

Donnie cracked a grin then yelled as he narrowly dodged a tossed item. It made a crash that wiped Donnie’s smirk off immediately— just what did he hit! That was a mess to clean up, and best believe he’s pushing it for later.

“ Har-dee-har, Dee. They’re just so drained, a bit snappy here and there, and just.. I want to be able to help them, but not even they know what’s wrong. “

After a few moments of silence, Donnie popped his fist into the palm of his other hand in a, “ got it! “ way.

“ Skin hunger. ”

“ Excuse me? ”

“ Sigh, my good man! This is Y/N we’re talking about. Knowing them, it sounds like maybe they’re experiencing effects of skin hunger—or, more commonly known as Touch starvation. “

Donnie spun back around, standing to look for the previously thrown object. He had continued speaking, but it was all deeper, more scientific stuff, and something about cortisol.

“ So they’re starving? For touch? What does that mean? ”

Leo stood up too, walking over to see if he could help find the object lost to the void, only to be pushed back by a mechanical arm and a grumpy glare.

“ Touch starvation is a common problem for humans to undergo, especially as a social species that has physical contact so ingrained into its culture. Y/N probably needs some form of physical contact, such as a hug or holding of the hand. “

Donnie holds his hand up, shaking it with emphasis, before then dropping his goggles over his eyes. Just what did he throw? And where was it?!

Leo started smiling wide, bouncing on his feet. In one fell swoop, he swiped open a portal with his sword before Donnie could say, “ not in the lab! “ and leaped right on through, straight into Y/N’s living room.

“ Y/N? ”

He called inquisitively, looking around. There was a groggy response from your bedroom, one that quickly made him connect the dots—you must’ve been sleeping! Wait, what time was it? No, never mind that, he came into your room, leaning in from your doorway as he searched for you.

“ Leo….? “

Y/N grumbled, wriggling beneath their blankets until finally their head popped out. Curious eyes landed upon their beloved blue, not-so-belovedly interrupting their desperately sought after sleep.

“ What are you doing here? “

There were a few more tosses and turns from under the blankets until finally they flipped the blankets over and off their torso, resting at their waist.

“ I discovered your ailment—“

“ Ailment? ”

“—Yes, ailment, with Donnie’s help! And I know just the thing to cheer you up. Hopefully. “

Y/N unintentionally glared at him, not exactly sure if they wanted to entertain whatever plan Donnie had put him up to. After all, who knew what the two of them talked about?

Alas, before you could agree or disagree to the terms of this experiment, Leo assumed a jumping position, announced “ POUNCE IMMINENT! “ and proceeded to launch himself at you. A startled yelp left you, expecting to be in some form of pain after this, but found that he had landed over you with a grin.

“ Where’s the trust, Y/N? ”

And with THAT, he thumped against you, and you involuntarily gave an “ umph! “ from the sudden weight.

In any other situation, you would have no issues with yelling, bopping, or scolding your way out of this—you were in no way, shape, OR form a mattress! But, your stammering came to a stop as it seemed the weight of your boyfriend was somehow curing all the metaphorical weight bearing on you. You were beginning to feel…

Better? Oddly as if it were easier to breathe? Deciding against a protest, you hummed low and quiet while snuggling your face into Leo’s neck, arms lazily wrapping around him to pull him in closer (which was physically impossible, but hey, no one said you couldn’t try.)

Leo was shockingly quiet but grinning ear to ear. His arms wrapped around you too, snuggling up.

Plenty of silence passed you both as you lavished in the luxurious comfort the gods had been bestowing upon you right now, not daring to break the silence with any questions….

For long, at least, since there was like ONE little inquiry crawling up your throat.

“ … What did Donnie even say? “

Leo hummed a “ hmm? ”, much too comfortable himself.

“ To make you know to do this? “

There was a muffled “ oh “ against your neck that stirred a few giggles before he then pulled up his head to speak.

“ Something something skin hunger, something something too much cortisol. “

He then thumped his head into your pillow. Maybe that was the best answer you would be getting out of him..

And, maybe that was okay…

You were getting a bit tired again, and something was telling you that this sleep would probably be the best you’ve had in a while..

#Leonardo x reader #leo x reader #rise leonardo x reader #rise leo x reader #rise tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader

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iqueenlost · 1 year ago

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Part 1/5 (probably) of my andreil fake dating au

@givemethedamnflowers @bikevindayy @mai-feri @neilimfinejosten @runpinocchio @youweremyversaillesatnight @paradoxolotl @paysomeonetopaysomeone @asteria-astraeus

----------

It was all Nicky’s fault.

Well, technically it was Andrew’s stupidity’s fault, but he was going to ignore it and blame Nicky anyway. They were at Nicky’s for Thanksgiving when the pest popped up the question he would ask every family gathering.

“So, Andrew…” he paused dramatically, because why wouldn’t he. “Are you still single?

And that had been it. Andrew was tired, he was working on a case that took a lot from him. A thirteen-year-old boy who had been raped by his stepbrother since he was seven and it was hitting way too close to home that it had given Andrew nightmares. He hadn’t had a good night of sleep for almost three weeks now. So he could be excused when his sleep-deprived ass had blurted out. “Neil’s my boyfriend.”

His heart came to an abrupt stop the moment the words left his mouth. He felt his mask of indifference begin to crack as he looked across the table to where Neil was looking at him, a spoonful of mashed potatoes halfway to his open mouth.

Andrew was thoroughly fucked. Of all the names he could have used to get Nicky off his back he had to have said Neil’s name. As if Nick hadn’t known Neil for years, as if he hadn’t known Neil for years. Besides he had a crush on Neil since they met in his senior year of high school.

Neil carefully placed his spoon on his plate, a mischievous grin forming on his lips, his ice-blue eyes glistening dangerously. Again: Andrew was fucked.

“I didn’t think we were going to tell everyone yet.” He said slowly, all fake innocence.

The table exploded with noise that Andrew could barely register, all his attention focused on Neil and his smirk and his stupid good looks. Today he was dressed a bit better than usual, in a brown cashmere sweater and olive green denim jacket, probably a courtesy of Reynolds. The colors blended well with his auburn hair and made him look like the personification of autumn. Most of the freckles on his face were gone with the absence of the hotter summer sun, but Andrew could remember each one of them perfectly. Noticing and remembering each and every little detail about Neil was enough to make Andrew forget where he was and what was happening around him.

Today though his mind was occupied with other things. Why did Neil join in on the lie? Was he only being his chaotic self? He knew Neil was prone to saying anything that came to his mind simply to stir shit up, but usually, Andrew knew exactly what he was thinking, or he could make a pretty accurate guess.

“Pay up, bitch!” Aaron’s voice sounded from Andrew’s left. Andrew snapped his head in his direction with a scowl as he took in the scene. Aaron had his hand up in Nicky’s direction, a smug expression settled on his face. Nicky sighed, taking his wallet from his pocket to supposedly pay Aaron.

“Don’t forget my share,” Eric said when Nicky went to put his wallet away. “I told you this was the year.”

“You betted on us?” Andrew asked. That Nicky and Aaron made bets about him wasn't a surprise, but even Eric?

“Of course they did,” Neil said. “And I bet Matt and Dan did as well, it's going to be fun telling them.” he laughed.

“We are not telling them.”

“You told Nicky, I think it's only fair I tell people too.”

It was official, Andrew was going insane. He should have stayed in bed instead of coming to Thanksgiving, he didn't even have something to be thankful for this year, and his life was going downhill. They were not a real couple and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what Neil was playing at here. And to be honest, whatever it was he was not going to join in. He made a mistake, slipped up a little, but he was going to set things straight and not get tangled up in a lie. Especially not a lie that involved Neil and his messed-up idea of fun.

“We’re not.” Andrew crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He opened his mouth to tell everyone the truth when Neil caught him by surprise again. “Let’s not have this discussion now, babe.” He pursed his lips in Andrew's direction and went back to his mashed potatoes. The nickname rolling out of his mouth like this wasn't the first time he ever called Andrew that. Like this wasn't a monumental moment in the history of Andrew. Like this wasn't going to come up again as soon as Andrew laid his head on the pillow that night and keep him awake for hours.

Nicky snickered and leaned over Eric to whisper something at him. Aaron paled to a green color, a disgusted expression beginning to form on his face. “Never ever call me that from now on.” He said to Katlyn.

She smiled at him, slapping his shoulder lightly. “I'm happy for you, Andrew.” She said, leaning forward to look at Andrew from her seat on the other side of Aaron’s chair. All Andrew could do was nod at her and go back to his food.

There was a time when he couldn't even look at Katlyn. That was when he thought she wouldn't be good for Aaron and when she showed him she was, he then began to be afraid she would take Aaron away from him and instead of a strained relationship, they would have nothing at all. But she didn't take Aaron away on the contrary actually, seeing her relationship with her sisters made Aaron reevaluate his relationship with Andrew. They became closer and after they began to have joint therapy sessions they now had something that resembled what the relationship between brothers should be. Andrew had reached the point where he could admit she was alright most days and even great some days.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Nicky jumped away from Eric and pointed a finger between Andrew and Neil. “We're not ignoring this GREAT revelation and going back to lunch. I need dets, gimme the dets. I need to be fed after watching you two pinning for almost ten years. I earned the right to every juice detail of this relationship. I swear you two got together just when I changed my choice on the bet. I lost fifty bucks.”

“You’ve earned nothing and I'm giving you nothing.”

“Oh, don't be shy Andrew. Tell them exactly what goes down between us.” Neil chimed in, biting his lips suggestively while raising his eyebrows at Andrew.

Andrew felt his blood rush downwards with every image his fucked up brain conjured as a result of Neil's suggestive expression. Nope. Not the time to be thinking about that.

“Please don't, not at the table.” He vaguely heard Aaron say.

“Stop.” Katlyn scolded. “If Andrew and Neil feel comfortable sharing with us we should hear them as their family.”

“You, Katlyn, are too good for this world,” Neil stated. “And definitely too good for Aaron.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, thank you, I prefer your brother.”

Aaron gagged at that and Andrew got the fuck away from them immediately, Nicky’s delighted cackle following him all the way to the front door. Before he could even open the door he heard the soft taps of Neil’s shoes on the hardwood floor. Usually, Neil walked like a ghost without any sound but when he clocked in on the fact that it freaked Andrew out not hearing someone approaching him from behind he always made sure to make his presence known before he reached Andrew. It was one of the things that made Neil different from everyone else. He just got Andrew without Andrew even needing to say anything.

“I’m sorry if it was too much.” He stopped beside Andrew, leaning his back against the wall and looking down at his feet. “I just wanted to get under Aaron’s skin, I didn't think how it would sound to you.”

Andrew gritted his teeth. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” At Andrew's snort, he continued. “I really don't know. I guess I just didn't want Nicky to catch up on the lie at first, but then I thought it would be funny. You know me, I don't have a sense of humor.”

That wasn't true, Neil could be really funny. Or maybe his sense of humor was just the right amount of acid and sarcastic that his remarks made Andrew want to laugh, even though he didn’t most of the time.

“You’re really not as funny as you think you are.”

“I don't think I am.”

“Exactly.”

The corners of Neil's lips pushed up in a small smile. “We’re okay, right?”

“We were never not okay Neil.”

“Good.” he smiled softly. “Does that mean we still can tell Dan and Matt about the change in our relationship status? And Alison? We have to tell Alison, it’ll be gold.”

“Why would we tell them?” Andrew asked, running his right hand over his face. He was too tired for this, he didn't want to use his brain to solve Neil, even though most of the time it was his favorite thing to do.

“First, funny.” Neil put one finger up. “Second, it really would get Alison off my back about not dating anyone ever.”

“You could just tell her you’re ace and don't want to date. Or tell her to fuck off, whatever works best.” Andrew suggested.

“I know, but I don't want to have this conversation with her, or anyone else really.”

“Because you love to make your life more difficult. And mine, you're really into that.”

“Come on, Andrew. What’s the worst that could happen? We go on a few dates, lie to a couple of friends. I bet we're going to laugh about it in a few years.”

Andrew was sure as hell he would not, but for some reason telling no to Neil was very hard. “Okay.”

“You’re the best, babe.” He said with what looked like an attempt at a flirty smile.

“I’m going to stab you.” Andrew hissed.

“No, you’ll not.” He laughed brightly. “You’re too well adjusted now.”

Andrew almost gasped, and he probably would if he hadn't perfected his bored resting face to a T. “Take that back.”

“Nope.” beamed Neil, he straightened his body and got past Andrew to open the door. “Do you want to get out of here? We can go home and watch some crappy detective show?” He tossed over his shoulder.

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

Things I want to make clear:

— Aaron it's homophobic in this au, he just don't want to know about his brother's sex life, or anyone else's for the matter.

— Next part is in revision and it's from Neil's POV

— Little spoiler: Neil's a high school math teacher because I said so 😆

Check Part 2

#aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #fake dating au #chaotic neil josten #andreil #fanfic

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yulin-pop · 2 years ago

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⤷ ✧ Trust my Power!

Gender neutral

- order 57 | Headcanon | first years

Note: I don’t know how this popped into my head but reader that claims to have great magical power that got locked away when transported into Twisted Wonderland, who’s very haughty and childish about it. I wanted to write more for Sebek

Ace Trappola

He’s not sure if he should believe your tales of being a strong magician in your own world. It’s a bit silly to him. You boast about how strong you were and how many people you saved.

“These magical hands have saved countless lives!”

“Uh okay?”

Maybe he would’ve believed you but you just talk about it way too much. He’s brought this into questioning and he loves seeing how defensive you get over it. He asks extremely detailed questions about your magic and how many monsters you’ve defeated.

The more you explain, the dumber you start sounding and you visibly get worked up about it. Literally yelling and stomping your feet at him. He thinks it’s sorta cute, so he continues to make fun of you.

Also apart of the teasing is him purposely not helping you. You could literally be dangling off a cliff and hes just leaving it to you.

“Ace! Help mee!”

“Use those magical hands of yours, Prefect.”

“You can catch these magical hands too!”

But honestly it just makes you boast about your old power even more, which prompts even more teasing. It’s a cycle.

He didn’t expect you to be smart. You’re not as dumb as he thought you were gonna end up being. Ace is actually really smart but he’s lazy and doesn’t want to put in the effort most of the time. You make fun of him because of that so he might start actually trying.

Deuce Spade

He’s a bit suspicious by your initial claims of having a magic before you appeared in Twisted Wonderland. But whatever you say I guess. He plays along and just smiles.

He doesn’t enjoy ruining your fun so he just goes “wow really?” Every once and while but in his head he’s like “are they okay?”

He honestly thinks your memories were messed up when being transported in the coffin. There’s also apart of him that finds it admittedly cute.

Ace and Deuce talk to each other about it and kinda agree it’s strange but they accept it.

Deuce tries to stop Ace from teasing you some much, because you get really pissy and start screaming.

“Ace, you need to stop. Look at them.”

“I AM a hero, right Deuce?”

And your face is literally completely red with tears in your eyes. He can’t say no.

Deuce goes to you when he wants to show you a new spell or practice something. But he never knows what he’s gonna get. If he gonna get insulted, praised, or criticized? Whatever he gets, he tries not to take it personally.

Jack Howl

He’s the direct “you can’t be serious” one. He just doesn’t believe you, as mean as that sounds. He will ask about it with, he doesn’t want to offend you but like is your head okay? What’s your screentime on your phone??

You’re very adamant on it and get upset when you’re being questioned, mistaking it for making fun of you. In the end, he decides to just to let you have your fun.

He actually listens when you talk about your magic. You get into long rants about it that usually ends up getting interrupted but he always just sits there and listens.

He also the one that drags you away when you get into arguments with people. You are a little snappy but Jack doesn’t acknowledge it as aggression.

He’s also the one that explains to people that you’re a little eccentric. Some people think you’re insane but you’re actually just silly.

But he respects you, he knows your genuine in some ways. You have similar values as him. You’re really ambitious too. So he’ll credit you for being an honest person.

Epel Felmier

He just wants you to shut up. He doesn’t really care that you’re a little bit crazy however you talk a lot. As long as Vil or Rook aren’t around, he’s just very mean.

And of course you’re mean as well. I think his pride also wants to prove that he’s better than you. You got a good score? He got an even better one. He knows it’s unfair in terms of some subjects since you can’t use magic but he still makes snide comments about that.

He calls you a liar that you never had magic to begin with but there’s no telling if you’re telling the truth or not.

Rivals with Epel? Sure but probably won’t end up well. You both need to learn to keep your mouths shut because recently you’ve been getting scolded for arguing during class.

He doesn’t like to admit it but you’re pretty good. You are overly confident about your academics but at least you have the grades to back it up. Epel? He’s pretty average, nothing too special but he pushes himself to be better than you.

Your insults are not personal, mostly because you hardly know anything about each other. But if you happen to learn something personal about him, you don’t say anything about it. Same with him, there’s no need for low blows in this petty rivalry.

Sebek Zigvolt

Okay I think that you two could actually get along. He actually believes your story about having your powers locked away. He’s very stubborn so nobody can convinced him otherwise.

You actually don’t mind him being so loud and uptight. You actually kinda match his energy but in a different way. Contrary to popular belief, you two would not argue about Malleus.

“Who’s Malleus?”

“Oh Malleus is —“

“Oh wow! He sounds incredible, godlike even.”

You would praise Malleus together. But you two don’t talk about Malleus that often (some people don’t know that Sebek has an actual personality and his dialogue doesn’t revolve around Malleus).

Everybody was surprised at first but then they thought about it more and realized that you two were practically made for each other. Sure you two can have some heated debates but it’s on useless topics and hopefully you two are mature enough to get over the disagreements.

You two have gotten kicked out of the library for talking too much. At first you were whispering but then you started using your outside voices and that’s when you started getting death glares from other people.

It’s easy to see that Sebek seems less stern when talking with you. He still stays his usual loud self but there’s a different air around him.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #jack howl x reader #jack howl #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst #twst first years x reader #twst first years

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bigtreefest · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! Hope your weekend is going great!

You're going on a two week long cruise with a large group of friends and family, but OH NO, the booking's been messed up and now you are forced to choose who you're going to share a room with. Fortunately, there are two beds, but the cabin is still cramped…

Best friend's brother Jake: Over the last few years, Jake's and yours relationship has gotten a lot better, to your best friend's joy. Now you can't stop him from complimenting you, even though it's embarrassing some times. And he's so thoughtful! Asking if you need anything when he runs to the store or offering his hoodie when you're cold

Dbf Ari: There is not denying Ari's charm. He is casually flirty with everyone but the way his eyes focus on you when you speak makes your skin tingle pleasantly. The last game night you played twister and Ari complimented the way you could bend your body in a way that made your brain spin with inappropriate thoughts.

Childhood friend Steve: He's always been by your side, even if you were separated when you both went to college, after he moved back you've been hanging out just like old times. Except for the fact that Steve has filled out with muscles and now his smile makes your knees weak. During your usual movie nights he always finds some part of your body to massage, be it hands, feet or shoulders.

Sister-in-law's brother Ransom: How anyone could be snobbier than your sister-in-law you don't know, but Ransom sure is. Despite that, he's fun to bicker with and gives as good as he gets. You've also seen a different side of him, a much softer one, that despite what he wants the world to think of him, he actually cares about a lot of things. You, among them.

Who are you going to share with? 🍹

Hi! My weekend was pretty alright, thanks.

But fr, omg, Cate!! It’s so difficult to choose!!! Like, I’ve literally had this sitting in my drafts for days because I have such decision paralysis. You’ve literally chosen all of the traits that make men hotter to me. What am I supposed to do???

I guess let’s talk through each choice?

Dbf Ari: I enjoy the flirt and the charm, and obviously the looks, but when reality comes crashing in, my parents would never go for that. They’d be furious and I’d quickly lose the novelty of hotness to age. Doesn’t mean I’m not asking him to help me apply sunscreen, though😏

Sister-in-law’s brother Ransom: while I enjoy seeing his softer side, I don’t want to rip on my outfits in the closet before I even put them on!! Doesn’t mean I won’t seek him out at dinner to make fun of others with, though. And maybe he’ll be good to spend time with at the shops.

Childhood friend Steve: I very much have a thing for friends to lovers. We evidently get along!! It would be so easy to share a small cabin together. And Steve! Steve is just the sweetest. I appreciate our closeness, but he’s never given a a true indication if there’s anything more and I can’t chase that forever. As a true friend, I want him to be happy, and sometimes that’s just by me being there for him, not necessarily romantically. If I’m not trying to see if anything happens in that department, I’d easily share the space with Steve. He’s so organized, but perhaps he gets up a little too early.

Best Friend’s Brother Jake: is now a good time to tell you I’ve been crushing on my best friend’s brother for like 16 years? Anyway, I choose Jake. I just love how I can tell he’s thinking of me, and paying attention. That’s something I crave, someone else knowing the details of what I need without me having to say it. Sharing a cabin is something I hope would push us farther, to the next step. I want late night conversations with him as we lay in bed, I wanna steal his hoodie when I insist we go up to the top floor late at night when the wind whips over the ship. I want him to cage my body against the railing and hook his chin over my shoulder as we stare out at the ocean. I’d love that peace, and the outward affection, as it’s just the two of us, enjoying the quiet moments where everyone is asleep. I want to find abandoned chairs and late-night cookies and hot chocolate, sitting cross cross apple sauce on them and just giggling and reveling in the night. In the time where no one else has to watch us interact and he can throw all the compliments he wants without me blushing. So we can finally, truly get to know each other so he’s not just throwing out random words to get my attention. He has it. It’s all his and hopefully he makes good use of it.

#thanks for dropping in #ask Eddie #Essie answers #Steve rogers #Ari Levinson #ransom drysdale #Jake Jensen #my baby Jakey ofc #oh to have the option of these beautiful men tho

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astrobolical · 1 year ago

Text

A little white lie-

Content Warnings: Orgasm denial (more mentioned), unprotected, creampie, touch denial, choking (very mild, barely mentioned), rough, submissive and dominant Sampo (mostly submissive), begging, Sampo being Sampo, MDNI!!

Reader: Female

I… I don’t even know where to put the read more tag on this one. I usually put it before these get spicy at all but here we are and, well, the whole thing is.

This man has taken over my whole mind. He derailed two other fics and I can’t stop him.

Your fingers tightened around his wrists, pushing them down into the mattress despite his whimpering protests at once again being denied the ability to touch your body, pleading for the ability to even graze your skin with his fingertips. Yet your grip didn’t relent, shushing the mess of a man beneath you. His hips buck up uselessly into yours— though, you remained as still as you could manage, the only solace he could cling to was that his cock still remained buried within your quivering, wet cunt. “C‘mon… please?” He breathed, briefly straining against your grasp but ultimately relenting to your hold, opting to meet your gaze with a pitiful look.

You hummed, leaning down and relishing in the way his body shook from the simple movement, thighs tensing beneath your own, hips twitching. The heat between your bodies burned, where the two of you touched it felt as though it could sear your very skin, but yet you always craved this closeness, like a drug you couldn’t kick. This time, however, you weren’t letting him have his way with you. “Why should I let you, Sampo?” You ground your hips down, biting your lip at how he reached the very best spots within you, how he filled you so perfectly— it was as though his cock was made just for you.

Your lips trailed along his jaw, leaving feather-light kisses in their path, the occasional nip of teeth on sweat-slicked flesh. You could feel his desperation in how his body tensed and shifted beneath you, how he whimpered from his release being denied again and again, his dick aching with the unrelenting pressure of his ever-impending euphoria. His clothes were haphazardly moved out of your way, his shirt bunched up just below his chest, his pants opened just enough to free him from their confines, stained by now with a mix of you and him.

“Fuck,” He groaned, continuing his shallow, fruitless thrusts that couldn’t fulfil what he needed. “Darlin’ please. Let me cum, let me touch you— anything.”

You bit down on the soft flesh of his neck, reveling in the filthy moan that spilled from him, his head thrown back into the pillows and his eyes screwed shut even after you’d pulled back. He pushed down harder on his wrists, his unfocused, watering turquoise eyes opening to find your gaze. A silent warning, one he reluctantly seemed to heed as you sat back against him, one hand moving to his abdomen to center and balance you as you slowly— terribly, horribly, slowly— raised your hips from his.

His eyes watched every minute detail of the movements beneath sweat-soaked bangs that clung to his forehead, his eyes dilating until the turquoise colour was nearly swallowed by the inky dark of his pupils as he saw where the two of you were connected, how he disappeared into your body, how you devoured him in the most amazing way he could possibly ask for. His breathing was ragged, his lower lip drawn in as he fought his every urge to buck upwards and bury himself back into your heat, to push you down into the mattress like you knew he could.

Just the head remained sheathed within you, a beautiful, filthy sight you allowed him to have— a small reward for how well he was behaving for you, despite how bewildered your shift of attitude had left him. “Don’t you think I deserve a little fun, Sampo?” Your hand reached down, sliding across your clit, mesmerizing the man who couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as the look of hunger grew within them. Ignoring his whines of protest you lifted yourself the rest of the way from him, teasing his twitching member with your lingering heat as you rubbed his shaft between your soaked folds. “Running here like you did, claiming you want to see me…” You feigned a pout. “Even though I know you were just running from the guards, right?”

For a moment you could see the fleeting look of shock cross his beautiful features, but it was quickly hidden and buried beneath the best coy look he could muster in his current state. “What? No! I’m here just for you, Y/N, just for you.”

Lies. He was lying through his teeth. You’d known the second he’d shown up at your door. The way his lips found yours almost before you could greet him, the way he’d hurriedly ushered you back into your home with heated touches and honeyed whispers in your ear. When the door had been locked behind you, when his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your pants far more quickly than usual. You knew, of course you did, as you allowed him to press his tongue to your clit, his skilled fingers buried to the knuckle within you as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from your shaking form.

Greedily, and happily, you’d allowed him to have his way, allowed him to please you, to believe he’d succeeded in his little plan. However, now he was beneath you, and you’d begun your slow denial of the things he craved, what he needed. You brought him to the edge only to allow that building feeling, that overwhelming heat, to simmer down to nothing but embers. Until he was the mess that he was now, panting, begging, desperate for you.

“I know you better than that, Sampo.” You grinned, a Cheshire smile that made your boyfriend shiver. “Why not just tell me the truth…?”

“I am—“ He began, but before his half-hearted defense could begin your familiar ring-tone sounded from your nightstand, and his brows furrowed— though you were unsure if he was relieved or annoyed at the interruption. You brought him back to you, however, as you slipped the head of his cock back into you before grabbing your phone from where it sat.

“Are you sure that’s the answer you want to go with?” You allowed him one last chance to tell you what you already knew. Yet his voice failed him, answering you with only a low moan, frantic for the pleasure you were just moments from giving him.

“Yes…” He groaned as you took more of him within you. Whether that was for the relief you were providing, or an answer to your question you supposed you’d never know. Regardless, you shushed him once more as you answered the incoming call— much to his dismay and shock, his hands rapidly coming to grip your hips in protest of you potentially leaving him in this state once again. You pressed a finger to his lips and sat back fully once again, leisurely rocking your hips as a familiar voice broke the tension of the room and made Sampo nearly jump.

“Sorry to bother you, Y/N.” Gepard spoke, blissfully unaware of the additional person listening in, or the precarious situation the two of you were in.

“Never a bother, Gepard.” Your voice was shockingly steady with how you were grinding your hips against Sampo, your bodies a breath apart as you leaned down, lavishing kisses to his collar bone and chest as quietly as you could manage. “What can I help you with?” You asked in-between, and Sampo was biting his lip to stay quiet.

“Well, have you seen Sampo? He was— well, he was being Sampo. I won’t bore you with the details.” Gepard was always awkward asking you about the criminal, knowing the two of you shared a sort of bond that he couldn’t quite understand.

You moved your hips a little more quickly, warm breath ghosting over your boyfriend’s ear and making him jolt from the sudden pleasure and sensations. “That right? Well,” You bit down on the shell of his ear, smirking at the garbled mess of a moan he’d nearly let slip. “I haven’t seen him.”

“You okay? You sound kind of out of breath…” Gepard questioned and you fought the urge to laugh. Sampo’s fingers were fiercely digging into the flesh of your hips, his breath coming out in sharp pants as your pace quickened.

When you pulled back you bit your lip at the look you were being given, the hard stare, the furrowed brows—yet not of anger, or surprise, but of utter, unbridled, lust. “Sorry, you caught me in the middle of a workout is all.” Sampo’s eyes rolled back as he snapped his hips forward, bringing you down at the same moment.

“Oh- sorry. I won’t keep you, then. Let me know if you see him?”

“I’ll be sure to get in touch.” You agreed— you’d deal with the mess Sampo had gotten himself into later. To your shock, your phone was ripped from your hands before the young Captain could say anything more, the call ended by your boyfriend who looked positively ravenous.

Strong arms flipped you with ease, barely slipping out of you as your back hit the warm sheets, and the man you were beneath could hardly be described as your aloof, flirtatious boyfriend— no, this was a true, hungry, beast. Swollen lips found yours, a tongue seeking out your own and leaving you breathless. “You caught me, Darlin’.” He admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t come for you, too.”

He set back on his heels, lifting your legs to his shoulders and bending you in half as he forced himself forward once again. Snapping his hips forward you let out a loud, languid moan when he pressed deeper than before. A large hand found your throat, pressing down just lightly enough to make you aware of it as he rocked his hips into yours. “No need to be upset, Y/N. I’m all yours.”

The rhythmic thrusts soon gave way to a brutal pace, the wet sounds of his skin meeting yours filling the room along with your broken moans. “Sampo!” You stumbled over his name as his body covered yours, as close as he could get with how your legs were positioned between you.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Fuck, Y/N.”

Your hands gripped the shirt that clung to his back, digging your nails in as he continued, relentlessly using you to chase his orgasm that you’d denied him.

With a loud, unabashed moan Sampo snapped his hips to yours one last time, as deep as he possibly could into your tight heat as his release finally found him. You felt the heat surge through you, spurts of cum filling you as you clung to his sweat-damp body.

It took Sampo a minute to regain his senses, his little whimpers dying down as his oversensitivity ebbed. When he sat back, releasing your tired legs and allowing you to lay more comfortably, you soon found yourself with his full weight on top of you, arms forcing themselves beneath you to cling to you.

The two of you lay in the quiet, the only sounds between the two of you was the sound of panting as you caught your breath. Your fingers running through his damp hair as he nuzzled as close to you as he could.

“Sampo?” You hummed, and he lazily propped his head up to look at you. “You okay?”

“…Yeah.” He admitted, giving you a chaste kiss as if to reassure you. “That was great, darlin’. You really aren’t just a hiding place, though, I wanted to see you.” He sighed. “I just got caught up on the way here.”

You giggled, continuing to pet his hair, though you quickly realized what a mess the two of you had made of one another. “I know. Why don’t we get cleaned up?”

He pushed off of you, though before he completely stood he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “No denying me the soap or something, though, okay?” He dodged your lazy attempt to shove him off you, that familiar Sampo-grin back on his face.

#honkai star rail #sampo koski #Sampo Koski x reader #Honkai star rail x reader #Sampo literally owns my brain at this point #planning whole teams around him #~Sinners Corner #~take time to relax #whiny little man #I blame the those hip windows and his damn winking

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