#Your actions and words have implications guys | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lisired · 9 months ago

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can you keep it down?

pairing: neighbor!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf!mark, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, choking, thigh slapping, forced submission, implications of brat taming (in progress), praise, degradation but it’s more like banter, unprotected sex (dont b silly wrap ur willy)

summary: The apartment next door to yours has been vacant for months. No one had gone in or out, not until your new next door neighbor moved in two weeks ago. Mark, a slightly older guy who prides himself on his patience and willpower with a penchant for control. But when you make it clear you’re resolved to wither away the things he values most, Mark decides he’s down for the challenge, determined to put a leash on your unrestrained behavior - and most importantly, finally shut you the hell up.

word count: 10.4k

a/n: 4/4 of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!

The first time you met Mark, it was right outside your door.

It was late at night - debatably early in the morning - and you had been in the middle of bringing yourself to the third consecutive orgasm in a row when loud knocking interrupted you. Part of you was tempted to ignore whoever was determined to beat down your door, but it was ceaseless and frankly, you were growing annoyed.

Swiftly you slipped on the closest pair of shorts and marched to the front door in large strides, swinging it open once you finally arrived. Then, your eyes met Mark’s.

He was a mere stranger to you then. But what you saw made you want to know him. What you saw made you nearly forget that you were on the brink of orgasm only moments ago. A pair of beautiful brown eyes stared back at you.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice gruff. “Sorry to bother you, but can you keep it down? I live right next door and with all the noise I can’t sleep.”

For a moment you only blinked, processing his words slowly. You weren’t aware that you were being that loud. But then again, you were in no state to properly register your actions - you were delirious with pleasure and had blocked everything else past your senses.

When you finally processed his statement, your cheeks burned, slightly embarrassed. “Fuck. I’m so, so sorry, I had no idea. I’ll try to be quieter from now on.”

He gave you a courteous nod and replied, “No worries. Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

And that was it. When you shimmied back out of your shorts, you didn’t even feel energetic anymore, only overcome by exhaustion and the burdensome fact that you had work in the morning. You groaned and flopped against your bedsheets, letting sleep swallow you whole.

But the image of your new neighbor was reoccurring. There was something familiar about him, like you had seen him once before. And there were things you noticed right off the bat about him. For one, he was an older guy. Not old, but evidently beyond your years. And if the shorts he wore was any indicator, he was likely a father.

That made the chain of thoughts about him increase, and you didn’t even know his first name. There was instant intrigue and desire to get to know your new, next-door neighbor.

Though visions died quick, and dreams were killed even quicker. When you saw Mark swallowing some girl’s face only moments before she left his apartment on your way to work some days later, you rationalized yourself and decided to take it steady. It was certain that you were sure of what you wanted, but you respected his relationship. You were a great deal of things - delusional and a homewrecker weren’t on the list.

The second time, it was when you least expected it - at a local cafe.

Mark sat across from you, coffee cup in hand. Awareness of someone’s sudden presence made you shudder, and it slightly soothed you when you realized it was your hot neighbor. Your heart was still beating fast.

You played it cool. “Are you stalking me, neighbor?”

Amused, your neighbor let out a chuckle that was like music to your ears. “My name is Mark,” he introduced himself, smiling blithely. “And don’t flatter yourself, neighbor. I saw you here coincidentally and sat here because I had one good question for you.”

With an eyebrow arched, you casted Mark an identical smile. It amused you that he spoke to you as if you had been long friends, though you didn’t mind. You had been intrigued by Mark the moment you first laid eyes on him, and had been incapable of taking them off him since.

“Mark,” you said, tasting his name on your tongue. You played along and bobbed your head after a few moments, deciding you liked his name and gave him yours. “What do you have to ask me, Mark?”

Mark leaned over the table, voice an octave above a whisper as he asked, “Who’s fucking you so good that you can’t be quiet?”

He leaned back out and eyed you smugly when you blinked in surprise. His bluntness had caught you off-guard and he was proud of it, but you refused to not quickly recover.

Feigning indifference, you replied, “No one. Most of the time it’s just me and my toys. I have a hectic work schedule so it’s rare for me to find time to mess with people.”

Much to your misfortune, it was true. Working a busy office job meant that you had little time for even short-lived flings or one-night stands, much less the commitment of a serious relationship. It was difficult to recall the last time that you had gotten laid. With work taking such a humongous toll on you, your only way of relieving all of your pent-up frustrations was with sex toys.

That response was a clear shock to Mark, and in return you took pride in it. He was expecting you to be taken, but now that you had essentially implied that you weren’t dating anyone, he felt free to make a move on you. It was an indirect way of asking you if you were single. He also didn’t expect the same girl that flushed red when he confronted you about your noisiness to meet his boldness, but it was a welcome surprise. Mark could tell only fun things would come out of knowing you and becoming your neighbor.

Mark took a long sip from his cup, then asked, “What do you do for a living?”

“I work a variable job as an executive assistant that spends an ungodly amount of time behind a computer screen doing everyone else’s job for them,” you smiled tiredly.

He threw you a playful grimace and glanced at his watch for a split-second, but you had his undivided attention again in no time. “Damn, no wonder. You must like things rough.”

That took you by surprise, but you didn’t dare show it. “You have no idea,” you grumbled, playing it safe. “What about you?”

Mark grinned with pride. “I’m an editor for a publishing company.”

“Must be fun.”

“I can’t complain. It’s a stress sometimes, but it pays the bills.”

You chuckled. “Amen to that.”

It felt forbidden to be interested in your potentially taken neighbor that you only met a couple of days ago, yet here you were talking to him about your sex and work life. To make matters worse - and if that comment about you liking things rough was any indicator - you might have somehow also piqued his interests.

Maybe you were just reading too much into his words. After all, you were his noisy neighbor that kept him up at night. He was probably just curious as to why you seemingly made enemies with silence.

Mark glanced at his watch again then rose from his seat, and you figured he had places to be. “I’d better get going. I have to pick up my son.”

“Your son?” you questioned, furrowing your brows. The confusion was fake, of course. You had a hunch that he was a father, but you had never seen or heard the child to confirm your suspicions.

“Yes, my son,” Mark gave you a hard stare that you couldn’t make out. “It’s Friday and he stays with me this weekend so please, if not for my sake then for his, keep it down.”

You gave Mark a nod. He bid you farewell and made a break for the door, the chime of the bells letting you know that he was gone. He had wanted to stay for a bit, play for a little longer, but decided it was a good thing he didn’t get much of a chance to make a move. For now, Mark was intent on observing you. He wanted to figure you out a bit more before he went to first base.

But damn was he interested. There was something about you a couple of moments ago that he was attracted to, how you seemed equally bold as he was. A stark contrast from the first time he met you, but he figured that he had simply caught you at a bad time.

That was the thing, though - Mark didn’t know you. He needed more time before he could be sure you were worth it.

For at least the weekend, you obliged Mark’s wishes. As aforementioned, you were a great deal of things, but you weren’t petty for the wrong reasons. Or outright odd. It wasn’t like you were loud for the sake of it, you truly just never realized what you were capable of.

Over the course of those days, you continued to think about Mark. He had cut deep in your imagination and now there was a permanent scar that refused to heal. It was silly, being so hung over a guy you hardly knew and couldn’t have, but you couldn’t help it.

Mark was giving you a headache. You weren’t one to be indecisive over what you wanted, but that wasn’t the case here. From the moment he showed up at your doorstep, you knew that you had to have him. The problem was that you wanted to outline boundaries. There were places you were able to step and then there were places you weren’t. The last thing you wanted was to scare him away because of your urges.

The third time you saw Mark was the following weekend, bumping into him in the halls. You were going to apologize, but then his face fell into your vision. And thus, you noticed something completely new about it.

“You have a stubble,” you commented, nearly gawking.

Mark bobbed his head, grinning. He found it interesting how you gazed up at him as if you’d never seen a man with a stubble before. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you don’t shave. Shocking, I know.”

“I kind of like it.”

He snickered. “Only kinda?”

More than kind of - and while you weren’t afraid to admit it, you ignored his question. The stubble was the completion to Mark’s physical attractiveness that you hadn’t even known you would be into. He was already hot as hell, though now he was somehow even hotter.

He shot you a smug smile, unable to miss the way that you leered at him. You found him attractive. It was no secret and Mark wasn’t sure if you intended for it to be or not, though the way that you were unabashedly fucking him with your eyes gave him a huge hint. After last weekend’s encounter, you didn’t strike him as the type to shy away very easily. Confident.

So was he.

“You’re just standing here watching me like you want to eat me. Do you like it that much?”

There were a couple of routes you could take with that question. Either you could be honest and tell him how you felt, or you could beat around the bush. You chose the former.

“Sight for sore eyes,” you replied, finally meeting his eyes. He held eye contact with you as well as the expectation that you would break, but you proved him wrong. You kept looking him in his eyes as you said, “I love it. I think it suits the fuck out of you.”

Mark raised a brow, intrigued by your response. “Mm,” he hummed. He moved a step closer to you and asked, “What else do you like?”

Your breath began to speed up and so did your pulse when you picked up on how close your bodies were. You were hyper aware of the proximity and it was slowly killing you, setting off visceral reactions in your body. Another inch and his lips would be brushing yours. It felt like a test on your behalf - to see how you would react and if you would chicken out - and you utterly refused to back down from the challenge.

Deflecting, you tore your eyes from his lips and asked back, “Initiating a conversation with me in the middle of the hallway?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Do you wanna come in, then?”

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like that very much,” you faked a pout, the most subtle sullen undertone hiding in your sentence.

Mark resisted a grin. It was probable you were indirectly determining whether or not he was single. But the tiniest hint of sadness in your voice suggested that you might have genuinely been under the impression he was in a relationship.

“What girlfriend?” He threw you an utterly confused look. “I haven’t been in a relationship since the birth of Christ.”

You stared at him with genuine surprise. “I saw you sucking some girl’s face like last week.”

“And have you seen her around here again since?” Mark scoffed, amused.

What he was implying began to sink in gradually and you realized that you had made an awfully large assumption the other day. Though in your defense, people making out with their hookups like that was completely unheard of to you. It looked too passionate, especially for the morning after. When you had nothing to quip, Mark made a face at you that made you want to sink into the ground, and added, “She’s not my girlfriend - she was a fling. We had sex the previous night but I’m sure you weren’t able to tell because unlike someone, I know how to be quiet.”

Was. That meant not any more.

Affronted, and refusing to take that, you took a step back and shot, “Maybe your dick game is just weak if she’s that quiet.”

“You wanna find out?” Mark cocked his head to the side with an exasperating smile, taking a step forward for every step you took backwards until your back hit a wall. It was obvious that you were trying to get a rise out of him and he wouldn’t take the bait. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

Mark’s hands were on either side of you and his gaze rooted you in place. Neither of you seemed to give a damn that you were in public and in the view of a security camera. You kept staring at one another, pupils dilated with obvious want. Now that you were aware that Mark was single you deemed it perfectly safe to cave in to your desires, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to - yet. It was funny how whenever you finally got what you wanted, it was never enough.

You smiled softly, matching the little smirk on his face - you didn’t want him to think that he had an advantage over you, and whether he did or didn’t wasn’t relevant. “Are you saying that you want me?”

“I do want you,” Mark confessed without a care. He had no true intention of sleeping with you just yet, wanting to get to know you some more, but it wouldn’t hurt to admit that he was attracted to you nonetheless. “Do you want me?”

Seductively, you leered at him, then purred, “So bad.”

“Then, stop deflecting.”

With one little breath, you said, “Fine,” then closed the tiny gap between the both of you and your lips. When he kissed you back, your hands sought for his neck and his hooked around your waist.

As you kissed Mark it only became more fierce, tongues and teeth clashing in attempts to maintain dominance over the other. Yet neither of you would cave. Both of you were fighting fire with fire and it was like nothing that either of you had ever experienced before. Mark displayed a clear need for power and control, and while you weren’t against letting him have it, you were never one to give it away that easily.

You tugged on Mark’s hair, wanting to feel him as close as possible. His calloused hands began to wander all over you, kneading your skin and making you moan softly into his mouth. You could feel him grinning against your lips. His touch was like fire and your body was already burning with lust, desire, and everything in between. It had been so long since someone last touched you like this, kissed you like this. Mark was filling in all the little gaps and empty spaces.

A rough pull at his locks made Mark groan into your mouth and he pinned your hands above your head, up against the wall. He got rougher, as if he was trying to fit you into the wall - or maybe force you through it. But the fervor was welcome, and although he had pinned your hands above your head, you still kissed him with as much eagerness as you were humanly capable.

You pulled away when you had your fill, knowing that if you kept him close to you any longer you would make a move for his clothes, and your exhibitionism kink only extended so far. The both of you stared at one another with sheer lust, but there was an almost telepathic understanding between you. We have to wait.

Out of breath, you casted Mark a flirtatious wink and smile before parting and said, “See you later, Mark.”

Then, you sashayed back to your apartment. When you felt his eyes boring holes into your back, you simpered to yourself. You had planted the seed; now all you had to do was let it grow.

Days of messing around with Mark turned into weeks, but both of you were yet to succumb to your temptations. It was like you were waiting for the other to give in first and neither of you wanted to grant the other that satisfaction.

But of course, after planting the seed you had to water it and give it sunshine. In other words, you continued to flirt with Mark, maintaining his interest. And in return, he maintained yours. From anyone else’s point of view it might have seemed silly to be resisting each other when it was clear as day that the lust was mutual, but you and Mark were too alike. Too much pride, and too much adoration for all things thrill and tension.

Even when he wasn’t in your company, Mark was on your mind. It had only gotten worse the moment you kissed him. In the beginning you only thought about him occasionally - mostly whenever you saw or heard him - but now he was creeping into your head during your downtime and that was a problem. Your thoughts consisted nearly completely of him. Mark, Mark, Mark. He was all you could think about.

One weekend, you surprisingly encountered Mark at a playground. He appeared shocked to see you, but only let it show for a brief moment.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re the one stalking me. What in God’s name are you of all people doing at a playground?”

“Please. You’re not that special. I don’t have the time or energy to stalk anyone, baby,” you drawled with a hint of amusement. You pointed at a little girl. “You see that little girl in the purple shirt on the slide? That’s my niece. I’m babysitting her for my brother and sister-in-law. Today’s their anniversary and they wanted peace.”

Mark bobbed his head, understanding. “Of course. You can’t have any of that around a child. How old is she?”

“Just turned six about a week ago.”

“Around my son’s age,” he remarked, then pointed towards the set of swings. A couple of children played over there, but only one young boy was in the group. And he looked almost just like someone you knew. “He’s right there on the swings. Six, but he’s nearing seven.”

He was absolutely adorable. You were already thinking about play dates between him and your niece. She was lovely and enjoyed meeting new people, bless her pure heart.

You smiled softly with awe. “Stole your whole face. There’s no way in hell you could deny that boy.”

Mark snickered, shoulders shaking. “Damn right. My little mini-me,” he sighed happily. He took his eyes off his son for a split-second to glance over at you. You looked beautiful, as always. And you were watching your niece with so much intent and care that he doubted you had even snook a glance of your own his way. “Fond of kids?”

“I babysitted throughout college,” you replied pensively. Reminiscent. “Believe it or not. I thought it was my calling because I was so responsible and the parents always praised me, plus it was a huge step towards individuality. Grew up with a lot of siblings and relatives, too, so I’ve always been around children.”

Mark grinned, satisfied. That was the answer he wanted to hear. He was only curious because he was interested in you, and before he jumped too far ahead he needed to know what you thought about children. It was a relief that you had so much tenderness for and resonated so well with them. That gave him all the more reasons to want you by his side. “What about you?” he asked, adding when your face scrunched about with confusion, “Do you want kids of your own?”

There was no reluctance in your answer, like you had already thought long and hard about the question before. “Someday. When I’m married and sure I’ve chosen the right person to settle down and have kids with. And when I have a less demanding job so that I’m able to take care of my family and spend time with them,” you said, smiling wistfully. “My parents were busy people. They weren’t around a whole lot so me and my siblings practically raised each other.”

Mark gave you a look. One you could make out as pity. You thought his response would be predictable, but it caught you by surprise. “You don’t want to be pitied, do you?”

You blinked, genuinely unsure of how to respond for a moment. Then you broke into a broad grin and said, “Nope.”

“I feel for you anyways,” Mark gave a playful nudge to your side with his elbow. “And I think you have beautiful visions for the future. I can tell you’re gonna be a great mother.”

You thanked him in a way that was positively bashful. For a while, you and Mark chatted about whatever the hell you wanted - topics in relation to the children, personal life, and everything in between. After the day you and Mark kissed, a more mutual effort to get to know each other blossomed. Mark told you everything there was to know about his job. Most of the time he worked from home without much need for overseer authorization, and set his own hours. As someone who loved being in control, it suited him.

It was alarming that you had gotten so personal so fast. You had only known each other for a month, more or less, and only really began talking a couple of weeks ago. Yet you felt comfortable enough to share a certain level of information that you normally would conceal.

You were becoming close in every sense of the word. The tension between you and Mark never fizzled out, it only seemed to grow more, and more, and more, until it would eventually explode in your faces. By then, you would have no choice but to confront it directly. You couldn’t wait.

Mark wrapped his arm around your waist, and peered down briefly to look at it. Contact drove you crazy. You loved having Mark’s hands on you, even in non-sexual ways.

He pulled you into him and asked, “How long are you keeping her?”

“Just until five. I’m taking her to her grandma’s after this,” you replied, shifting your gaze back to the playground. But a smug smile tugged your lips. “Why?”

There was a shine in Mark’s pretty brown eyes. It was almost five. Voice tickling your neck, he leaned in to say bluntly, “Because I wanna take you for a ride. Are you down?”

You casted him an observant glance over your shoulder. What Mark wanted was clear, or so you thought, but you were in the mood for playing hard to get. As per usual. “Dunno. What kind of ride?”

“The kind where we get in my car and go whatever the road and a full tank of gas leads us,” Mark shrugged. “It’s a yes-no question, doll. Are you down, or not?”

Doll. That was new. You had reached the pet name stage, calling each other ‘baby’ a couple of times, but ‘doll’ was new. It also had you wishing that you were both alone so that you could do something about how badly you craved Mark in that moment.

“I’m down. Meet me outside the complex at six?” You questioned, peering up at him yet again. You smiled when you met his eyes, unable to resist the urge. Mark made you feel good inside, all warm and gross. It was a delight to know you were still capable of feeling such a way. After all, it had been so long since the last time.

Mark nodded and smiled back. “I will. Child-less, so that we can have peace of our own.”

You giggled into his chest. You could smell his scent, and it was heavenly.

At six o’clock, Mark was waiting for you downstairs like he said that he would be. And he was child-less. You both were.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger door of his car for you and shut it once you were completely inside. Of course, it took more than simple courtesy to impress you, but something about it was making you giggle. Something you couldn’t pinpoint.

Mark gave you a look once he settled in the driver’s seat. “What’s funny?”

“Chivalry,” you sighed, smiling. “Apparently, it’s not dead.”

Mark was amused, but held back a snort. You were occasionally ridiculous, but just the right amount. He could tolerate it.

As he gripped the steering wheel, the car jerked to live underneath his fingertips, and soon you were both rolling. You said nothing for a little while, Mark focusing on the road and you peering out the window. The silence wasn’t awkward, but he cut on the radio and began to hum the song that was currently playing.

You glanced at him witheringly, but he was unbothered. Then, you teased with a grin, “Oh, yeah. Show out, Beyoncé.”

“Stop being a hater,” Mark groaned, then went back to singing.

After some moments of teasing, you were finally content and gave it a rest, relaxing into the leather seat. You were happy. If anyone had told you a month ago that you’d be in your new neighbor’s car listening to him sing songs from the radio, you would have called them insane. But you weren’t stupid and you knew better than to vulnerate yourself to a stranger. You told a couple friends about him and realized why Mark had seemed familiar - because he was. One of them knew Mark and was able to vouch for him, assuring you he was a good guy. That was why you felt so goddamn free.

It was peaceful, being alone with Mark. Whenever you weren’t both determined to get into each other’s pants, that was. But there was none of that right now - only the scenery whirling by at the pace of the lightning, the radio prevailing over the silence, and Mark by your side. And you by his. It felt too damn nice.

“You never answered my question that day.”

“Hm?” you gazed at him, confused. By his sentence and sudden will to ignite conversation, although you didn’t mind. “What question?”

Mark’s hand left the steering wheel and dropped to your thigh, which undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed by you. He didn’t move it, but you couldn’t ignore his fingers on your skin. “I asked you, what else do you like?”

“About you, or in general?”

He shrugged. “Whatever gets you talking.”

You gazed through the windshield, pretending to be pondering deeply. “Well, in general, I like a bunch of things. I’ve got a penchant for poetry and music. This tends to shock people, but parties aren’t my scene. I’m a more reserved person. I love the color blue.”

“Why blue?”

“Because it looks amazing on me,” you winked.

“Mm,” Mark glanced at you fleetingly through the rear-view mirror. That was when his fingers started moving, kneading your thigh. “What else?”

“Hm, well,” you began, pretending to be unbothered by his touch. In reality, you were melting with every move. “About you, there’s a lot for me to like, too. You’re confident, smart, funny, sexy,” then you licked your lips and added, “And an excellent kisser.”

Mark grinned, hand still massaging your bare skin. “What a sweet-talker you are. Keep going,” he whispered, then gave your thigh a little squeeze.

But you were honest. There were too many things you admired about Mark that led you to becoming drawn to him in such a little period of time. Just as easily as he had been able to make you tell him things, you had persuaded him into opening up. There was still so much to learn about each other on deeper levels, but time was your best friend. For now, you decided that you would tell him what you already knew.

“I like the way you put so much care and effort into what you love. I’ve heard you talk about your son, your friends, your job. You never neglect anything,” you confessed, smiling fondly as you recalled the conversations you’d had. “I like how we’re similar, too. I think that’s part of the reason why we feel comfortable moving so fast. We’re cut from the same cloth. We both know what we want and when and how we want it, and we’re not afraid to go get it. It’s like playing a damn game of tug of war whenever I’m with you.”

“Or a very calculated game of chess,” Mark added, shaking his head with amusement.

You giggled. “But there’s something about you that’s so… alluring. I’m attracted to it. You’re a hardworking borderline control freak that’s unafraid of sincerity. I love it.”

“Romantic. I’m swooning,” he deadpanned, throwing you a playful glare.

“And you’re the right amount of sarcastic.”

“And that’s what gets you going?”

“Baby, please. If I could kiss you right fucking now, I would,” you admitted.

Mark said nothing, but his fingers kept fondling with your flesh, and your breath kept getting out of control. He gave your thigh another reassuring squeeze, letting you know he heard you.

Forest views took over. You pressed your fingertips to the window glass and watched as the rapid blur of scenes that once consisted of neon city lights turned green. Moss-coated branches replaced them, last rays of sunlight filtering through them as you neared the woods and the gravel roads turned to dirt.

“Woods, very spooky. Are you gonna kill me and hide my body out here?” you asked him humorously, watching as he drove you through the wild.

Mark didn’t take his eyes off the road as he replied, “And dump it in the lake.”

“Lake?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

You did see a lake. Mark parked his car near some trees and once he helped you outside, led you down a trail until you reached a bridge. It was long and stretched above a medium body of water. Blossoming flowers lived in the grass and the scent was earthy. You stretched ever so slightly over the railing and saw yours and Mark’s reflection staring back at you.

There were little fountains in the lake. Creatures made the water ripple and you watched with Mark’s arm wrapped around your waist as the smell and sound of nature filled your senses. Ducks pecked around the land edges of the lake in hunt of food.

“It’s beautiful,” you exhaled in awe. The clouds and setting sun peered down on the water and you wished that you had your camera on your person. It was a sight too gorgeous to let become nothing more than a memory fading at the back of your head.

Mark bobbed his head in agreement. The corners of his lips tugged upwards as he said, “It is. I come here from time to time whenever I need to clear my head. It’s a nice place that I’ve always wanted to share with someone.”

“You trust me enough to share it with me?” you teased, palms on his chest as you gazed up at his face. “I mean, like what if I get arrested for tax fraud and every time you come here all you can think about is your old neighbor that got sent to prison for evading her taxes.”

“Then, you better do your taxes, or else I’ll be right after you when you get out. For attempted murder.”

You made a face of faux fear. “Shiver me timbers!”

Somehow, Mark pulled you closer and gave you a kiss on the cheek. Any closer and you were sure he would be able to feel how fast your heart was beating. It was safe to say that you had a little crush on your neighbor. You wanted him to an extent that words couldn’t capture.

There was something different with Mark. Linger was the perfect word to describe how his every action affected you. When he kissed you, you could still feel his lips on you moments afterwards. His every touch lingered on you, even the barest ones. You could taste him on you, his scent lingered on your body - it was too much. But Mark was too persistent. Even if you wanted to, and you didn’t, you couldn’t get away.

Mark looked at you as if he wanted to kiss you, but to your misfortune, he didn’t. Instead his lips parted to say, “Watch the sunset with me.”

Obediently, you turned to face the railing, which pleased him. He moved behind you and tightened his grip on your waist.

The sunset was beautiful, even more so with Mark’s company. The two of you made conversation, all the while watching how the sky that was once a pleasant array of colors dulled a deep indigo. The sun descended below the horizon and its reflection in the water was replaced by the moon.

And you - the moonlight illuminated every inch of your face. Mark had always thought that you were gorgeous, but the moonlight made your beauty criminal. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

“I can’t control myself anymore,” Mark growled. At first, you were confused, but when he whirled you around and pressed his lips against yours, you quickly understood.

Mark backed you against the railing, cornering you. Kissing him was too much fun. It was the same battle, the same fervent effort to compel one of you to submit to the other’s touch, yet both of you always held out, keeping your white flags lowered. Mark had never met anyone that challenged him this much, and you had never met anyone so desperate to prove a point.

When one of you pulled away, you not only were breathing heavily, but dangerously turned on. Your despires were no longer pure wants - they were needs.

“Mark,” you exhaled through shallow breaths, “Please.”

Mark cocked a brow, incredulous, yet amused. “You’re begging?”

You nodded, casting him a needy glance that nearly made him want to give you everything you wanted then and there. It wounded your pride to beg him to do anything, but you weren’t necessarily above it anymore. Lust made you do anything - and it was flowing rapidly through your bloodstream. “Please, I want it.”

That much was entertaining to him, although Mark still didn’t want to give himself to you yet. It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to have sex with you, but he wanted to bide his time. He wanted things a specific way and hooking up with you in his car simply wasn’t ideal.

Mark shook his head. “I’m not fucking you in my car.”

You pursed your lips and fought back the best way you knew how, huffing, “Why not? Don’t wanna fuck up your expensive seats? Car sex virgin?”

“My first time was in the back of a car,” Mark told you matter-of-factly, being sure to smile in the most menacing way possible. It was only deserved for the way you left him that day that you kissed him. You wanted to kiss that stupid grin off his face, but you thought he didn’t deserve it. “And everything I wanna do to you can’t happen in a car. You’ve been patient all this time, baby, you can wait a little more.”

“Ever the elaborate controlling perfectionist are you,” you drawled, faux aggravation to your tone.

Mark entwined his fingers with yours. “But you love that about me.”

“I never said that.”

“Oh? Must I remind you of your little love confession in my car earlier?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “No, thank you. But I will be expecting a four-page love letter detailing everything you like about me in the mail signed ‘Markie Pooh’ soon. I like to be courted.”

Mark gave your forehead a chaste peck, grinning as he joked, “I’ll enclose it with a kiss.”

You giggled.

Soon, Mark drove you back home and you were kissing him goodbye. It was a dramatic farewell, considering you lived right next door to him, but tonight had been magical and you were wondering where the time had gone. All you wanted to do was freeze time and kiss Mark on that bridge forever.

But you were also sick to your stomach that he still wasn’t in your guts. And tonight, you had a plan that would undoubtedly make him snap and give you what you wanted.

Last night, you gave yourself the release that your body was begging for, since Mark refused to fulfill your desires himself. And you made sure to be loud so that your intentions were obvious - ever since the last time he asked you to keep it down, you began doing an impressive job at suppressing your noises, muffling them into your pillow or biting your lip. But not last night. You called it being petty for the right reasons. That was what you were, and rather proudly.

For a little extra flare, you moaned Mark’s name. As much as it was you being petty for the sake of setting him off, it was also a self-indulging experience. Fantasizing about your neighbor was what brought you to the edge quicker than anything, and you came harder than ever with the thought of him on your mind.

Mark didn’t text you the following day. Usually, you would find time through your hectic work hours to chat, and you would spend the better half of your lunch break typing away at your phone, but it was radio silence.

It was weird. Maybe you and Mark were alike in more ways than you thought, and he was also extremely petty. But for the wrong reasons, in your opinion.

When you came home from work, Mark was standing outside his door, waiting. He leaned against it and stared you down.

“Had fun last night?”

Pretending to be oblivious as to what he was referencing, you played dumb and answered, “You mean, at the bridge? Of course. When are we going again?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Mark chastised, glaring. “I heard you last night. You seemed like you were having a good time, you know, moaning my name and all like a slut.”

Never had it ever crossed your mind that you would enjoy Mark calling you a slut, yet here you were, becoming more and more aroused the longer you pushed his buttons. With his commitment to patience, you typically never got much fun out of it, but right now he was approaching his limit and you were anticipating every second of it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied, searching for your keys and acting as if you were paying him no mind.

Mark wasn’t having any of it. For weeks you had all been all over each other, the mutual lust long-established, though now you were suddenly disregarding him and it was with one clear intention in mind. He wasn’t going to give in to your tricks, but he would play along with your little game. And he was going to win.

The little remaining bits of restraint he had suddenly exhausted and Mark gripped your wrists, ignoring the sound of surprise you uttered as he dragged you into his apartment. The door slammed shut in your trail and he pushed you up against it, pinning your arms above your head as he began to kiss you with urgency.

Kissing Mark was exhilarating. Whenever his lips were flush against yours, it was as if time stopped. Everything seemed to slow down but the dangerously rapid thud of your heart against your chest and the spreading wildfire in your body. You made an attempt to free your wrists from his seemingly tightening touch, writhing against him with desire to touch him, yet whatever strength you had Mark had more and you were unable to overpower his might.

“Mark,” you exhaled, pulling away to catch your breath. “I want to touch you.”

He hummed, an idea slithering into his brain. “If you want to so bad, then beg.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, slightly incredulous, yet the feeling dissipated when you remembered who exactly you were talking to. Scowling, you said, “I begged you once and now you’re getting too used to it.”

“If you want to get your way when it comes to me, then you better start getting used to it. Now, do you wanna get your pretty little hands on me, or not?”

You sighed. “I do.”

Mark gave you an expecting look. “Then, beg.”

“You want me to get on my knees, too?” you deadpanned, shooting him a sharp glare that he seemed utterly unbothered by - and it exasperated you.

The grin on his lips then was infuriating. “Don’t worry, you’ll do that later.”

Ignoring the very obvious implication of those words, you made a face, but the look in Mark’s eyes when you met his gaze was so goddamn commanding. The dominance to his aura that you had been so intent on destroying was finally getting to you.

“Please,” you whimpered, trying to ignore how pathetic you sounded. “Let me touch you, Mark, please.”

Satisfied, Mark let go of your wrists and his lips immediately fell back on yours, the need to kiss you resurfacing. It was like resuming, pressing play and pause. There was something about hearing and seeing you beg - especially against your will - that he found so arousing. You were so resistant to his dominance and it was all too entertaining to see you finally succumb.

Your hands raced to his shirt and with his own assistance, you hiked it above his head, hands flying to his chest afterwards. For a moment, your eyes opened to ogle at him, wallowing in the sight of his bare skin. Mark began to tug at your blouse and you both began to undress one another, leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you both headed to his bedroom.

By the time you got to his bed, you were stripped down to nothing but your undergarments. Lying flat on your back, you watched as Mark took his sweet time to crawl over you. His hand moved at an agonizingly slow pace from your thighs, to your stomach, to your clothed breasts. You felt as if your breath was stuck in your throat as you anticipated what he would do next, and he finally leaned in your ear, whispering, “You do look good in blue.”

He kissed you there for a little longer, heated and passionate, then pulled you up and said, “Get on your knees.”

Submissively, you sank to the floor without a fight, which both pleased and surprised Mark. Though the little sly grin playing on your lips was a good enough indicator that you were planning something. And you were. Any other time you would have refused to listen to him without first making an attack on his pride, but you were skilled with your tongue and had a line of people you’d been with to show for it.

You were resolved to make him unravel - and you would.

The bulge of his dick was prominent through his underwear, of which you tugged down in desperate haste. You had wanted a taste of him for only God knows how long.

His dick sprung against his stomach and by then your mouth was watering. You took him into your palm, smiling up at Mark as you began to leisurely pump him. Your efforts to tease him only became worse, intentionally letting your lips graze the head of his dick every now and then, giving him false hope that you’d finally get to the best part.

“Don’t tease me, doll. You won’t like what’ll happen if you keep up,” Mark warned.

“Punish me, Mark,” you said, smiling broadening.

He wasn’t given the chance to respond before you took his cock into your mouth, a little grunt leaving his mouth instead. You were taking him into your mouth bit by bit, efforts to tease him still lingering. Mark grabbed a fistful of your hair and held it behind your neck.

Mark, a man of patience, was beginning to lose the thing he clung to most. He used your hair to force you down on him some more. “Stop fooling around and take it, baby. Put your mouth to good use for once.”

In pursuit of spiting him, you fooled around for a moment longer, though finally gave up contentedly after you figured that you’d frustrated him enough. Soon you were steadily bobbing your head up and down his length, cheeks hollowed, his fingers gripping your hair to control your movements to an extent.

The wet sound of your mouth sucking his dick and his little noises of pleasure echoed throughout the bedroom. You smiled to yourself slyly at a thought you were having. Mark was a groaner.

He sounded heavenly. You were quick to discover his weaknesses, catching on to how he became noisier. Mark wasn’t the loudest guy that you’d been with, fairly moderate, but he was still unable to hide the signs that said loud and clear you were making him feel good. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and saw how pleasure was written all over his face, lips parted and his eyes closing from time to time.

That drove Mark borderline insane, you peering up at him like that - and you had already known that it would. At the end of the day, Mark was simply a man, after all. And you had men all figured out.

“Good girl. Just like that,” he praised, pushing your head down a little more.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and you stroked him all the while sucking him off, tasting pre-cum on your tongue. You could feel him twitching in your mouth and it was a pleasure. There was no denying he was close.

When Mark noticed you slowing down in efforts to tease him, he was displeased and decided that he had enough of your schemes. The loosened, relaxed grip on your hair suddenly tightened and he began to thrust into your mouth, taking control. You were good with your mouth and able to take it deep, but the sudden movement caught you off-guard and you began to gag.

“Just when I praise you, you decide you wanna be a little fucking brat,” Mark spat, pulling your hair again. “You just can’t listen, can you?”

You glared up at him, tears pricking your eyes, and the sight made him let out a laugh. He knew as well as the next person that you liked acting tough, but with tears in the corners of your eyes and a cock in your mouth, you looked nothing short of pathetic.

He shot you a withering look, adding, “You always act like you have the whole world in the palm of your hands. You try to get under my skin because you want to see me succumb to the same tricks you play on everyone else, but you know I won’t give an inch and you don’t know how to handle it. Wish you could see how pathetic you look when you shut the hell up and take my cock.”

Right now you wished that he would shut the hell up, but oddly enough, his words were turning you on. You silently prayed that he wouldn’t catch on to how wet you were getting with every passing moment.

Mark was close. His sentences became raspy, deep groans and his pace was relentless, merciless. Like he was trying to bruise the very back of your throat. It took everything in you not to choke out, but you refused to give him the satisfaction in seeing you in such a vulnerable state. He was already enjoying this too much.

Mark groaned, “Fuck. You gonna swallow it, babe?”

As a way of saying ‘yes’, you hummed around his shaft and the vibration was making him lose his mind. You swiftly moved one of your palms to wipe at a streak of tears on your cheeks before he noticed.

You doubted that he did. Mark was in another world, eyes closed as he was overcome by pleasure. The warmth and wetness of your mouth was everything and he was out of control, movements unrestrained. He came in your mouth with a grunt, giving your hair one last violent tug as his climax struck his body. You milked him dry, taking every bit of his cum in your mouth that you could possibly manage.

There was a noise when you rolled him out of your mouth, looking him in his eyes immediately afterwards. Mark was breathless, and so were you, but he could only smile.

You gave him a look, voice slightly hoarse from the throat-fucking as you asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, smile unfaltering, but it was obviously something. “I’m simply enjoying the way you look with spit and my cum on your lips and chin.”

You rolled your eyes and wiped yourself clean with the back of your hand. “And I was enjoying the way you looked like you were on the verge of losing your shit.”

“Funny how you’re only quiet when you have a dick in your mouth.”

Wittily, you retorted, “Maybe I would shut up if you fucked me.”

Instead of giving you an immediate response, Mark pulled you back onto the mattress, hovering above you as you lay flat on your back. “Mm-hm. That’s why you were moaning my name so loud last night, right? Because you wanted my dick?”

One of his palms slipped underneath the band of your underwear and you let out a little cry of surprise when you felt his fingers brushing against your arousal. You were holding in your breath. It had been so long since anyone had you like this and you were touch-starved, feeling completely deprived of sex and nearly the memory of what it was like.

His free hand gave a loud, resounding smack to your thigh, and you yelped. “That was a question, doll.”

“Yes,” you choked out. “Please. I want it so bad, Mark.”

“So wet, all for me,” he sighed with bliss. His fingers were now plunging inside your pussy, sliding in and out with ease. You hadn’t been this wet in ages. “How long has it been since you were last with someone?”

“I don’t know, like three months,” you guessed, not really wanting to think about it when his touch was all you could focus on. “A really long fucking time, basically.”

Mark made a face, surprised. “No wonder you’re so damn needy.”

His teasing did nothing to help and you were quickly growing impatient. There was no need to explain why it had been so long, you were certain he already knew. With your work schedule there was rarely time to meet new people and you had no one to come home to. But Mark made it too goddamn easy, and considering how hard you worked, you could use a good fuck.

“It’ll be a year by the time you fuck me,” you grumbled, impatient. What more did he want you to do? You sucked him off, begged, and yet he was still torturing you by resisting. It was like he was deliberately trying to get you to lose your goddamn mind, and knowing Mark, you wouldn’t put it past him. It was working.

Mark said nothing, looking at you blithely. And hungrily. There was still a layer of clothes obstructing the view of your bare skin, and greedily his hands flew to the band of your underwear. You bit back a whimper at the feeling of being suddenly empty, but Mark tore your panties past your ankles, and your bra immediately followed as he tugged on the straps.

The sight of your naked body had Mark’s dick throbbing and he swore then that you were Aphrodite. You were driving him past the brink of insanity. He had envisaged your body in his dreams and fantasies, though nothing could have prepared him for how beautiful you looked sprawled out on his sheets and he could only think one thing. Goddamn.

That was it for him. He was still resolved to tease you to sheer hell, but he could keep playing your games while inside of you.

You made a tiny gasp when you felt the head of Mark’s cock prod your folds. The sight of your pussy was his kryptonite - you were dripping with arousal. You wanted him so badly and he wanted you just as much. He pushed the tip in with a raspy groan and made a couple slow, shallow thrusts.

Then a couple turned into too many for you to count and you were becoming impatient. More than you already were. “Mark, hurry the hell up,” you grumbled.

“Mm, no. I think I’ll keep going like this,” Mark teased. After the way you treated him only moments ago, he wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. “I told you, you weren’t going to like what happened if you kept teasing me. Now look.”

Just like he said you wouldn’t, you weren’t liking this. He was agonizingly slow, not deep enough, and it was all deliberate. Karma was a fucking bitch.

“Fuck you,” you spat, insincere.

Mark was totally unbothered, seemingly paying you no mind as he replied, “That’s no way to talk to the man who you’re so wet for. Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Holding back a groan in fear of his changing his mind about reconsidering, you tidied up the sentence you were preparing to say to him and fixed your tone. “Mark, can you please move faster?”

“Don’t you sound so sweet when you ask like a good girl,” Mark sang. Before you could muster a response, he finally thrusted completely into you and you moaned. The way your pussy gripped him was his vice, and you stretched to accommodate his size.

In no time he also discarded his formerly slow pace and adopted a new, speedier one. The way he was pounding you was so deep and perfect and you grabbed his shoulders, desperately needing something to cling to.

This type of experience used to only exist in your head. More often than not, you winded up touching yourself to the thought of the man before you as a way to cope with your stress and lechery. You would close your eyes and picture his dark hair matted by sweat, his face scrunched up with pleasure. You would imagine the noises that he’d make when he finally felt the grip of your pussy around his dick, the way your body responded to his every touch. It got you off too quick, tempting you to march over to his apartment and demand he finished the job.

But you never did. You wanted to see him lose his patience - and you did.

“Pussy’s so damn tight,” Mark groaned, which made you grin smugly. You knew that already.

Mark leaned low and began to press soft kisses into your skin, his thumb brushing over your stiff nipples. He found you utterly beautiful, no flaw in his eyes. The breathy sounds you were making in response felt like hearing an angel.

Although you were enjoying yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing and said, “Don’t be gentle with me, baby.”

Mark smiled softly. “I don’t plan to be, doll.”

When Mark was finished with your breasts, his mouth replaced them, beginning to latch roughly onto your neck. Which made you sigh out in bliss. The feeling of his teeth digging sharply into your flesh made you certain that he was going to leave Mark’s, and you were too fond of it. You wanted Mark to make you his.

Everything was too much in the best way possible. You were intoxicated by the feeling of Mark’s bare cock between your walls, striking the sweetest parts of you. Your mouth parted in too-loud moans of his name.

He gripped your throat, looking you dead in the eyes as he commanded, “Be fucking quiet.”

That made you clench around his length. At first, your eyes widened, but you recovered swiftly and your lips curled into a broad smile as you met Mark’s gaze. The look on your face right then made his cock twitch.

“You like that, huh?” he asked, tightening the grip around your neck. You couldn’t get a single coherent word out, choking, but the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head was more than the perfect answer.

Mark let go of your throat after a moment and began to watch the way your cunt swallowed him whole. It was satisfying to have you at his disposal like this. He was hell bent on taming you, no matter how many fucks it took; the more the merrier. He couldn’t get enough of the way you felt - warm, wet walls clamping tightly around his size - and he knew deep down that there was no way in hell this would be the last time.

There was no going back. He was set on you; you on him. You were different from anyone he had ever been with before, you were a challenge. Brats were something he never thought he would be fond of, wallowing in the fact that most women bent to his will. But you caught onto his behavior fast and opposed it, resolved to break down his walls, and he was game. Mark never went down without a fight, though neither did you, and he liked it too damn much.

Taming you was fun. It was something he never knew that he needed until you suddenly came into his life, providing him a little thrill and excitement on a silver platter. You were so much like him that it was all too easy to read you, to find out what made you tick. And making you feel defeated was what he got out of trying to put a leash on your wildness.

Not too long after, you were moaning in a chant, “Mark,” his words forewarning you to be quiet going in one ear and out of the other. You couldn’t help it. It felt perfect. He was so deep and so thick, making you feel full.

“Brat,” Mark hissed, shaking his head. But with how utterly disobedient you were he didn’t bother to scold you again, taking matters into his own hands by picking your panties and shoving them into your mouth. “That’ll shut you up.”

There was an instant sound of protest and likely you cursing at him, considering how you narrowed your eyes at him, but there was no way for him to tell. Mark smiled tauntingly. “Can’t hear you, babe,” he said.

You raised your middle finger in a silent retaliation, but Mark retaliated back even quicker and lifted your hands above your head, pinning them down to the mattress. You felt so fucking powerless, yet Mark had so much power over you and your body. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t long before you could finally sense your orgasm building up, a dam on the very verge of breaking loose. Everything felt otherworldly and you swore that you were no longer breathing. Like you were gone, but your body was still physically alive and well. Pleasure ripped through every last vein in your bare body and consumed it in its entirety, swallowing you in its mass.

Mark’s pace was merciless, and when he moved one of his hands to wrap around your throat, so was the tight squeeze on both sides. It was damn near bruising and your eyes were fluttering, but you didn’t want him to stop. You were internally begging that he wouldn’t.

Your panties fell from your mouth and you took the opportunity to ask with a struggle, “Can I please cum, Mark?”

“Let go for me, babe,” Mark grunted, resisting the urge to comment on how pathetic you sounded asking for permission in your hoarse little voice. It came to him as a pleasant surprise, and a satisfying sound that left his dick throbbing.

There was no need to tell you twice. You came with one last cry of his name, back arching as you began to come undone. It was explosive, your entire body reacting to the intensity of it. Your toes clenched and your pussy gripped relentlessly around his shaft. You swore that you were beginning to see stars.

Mark pulled out and came on your stomach with a deep sexy groan, the sight and sound of you at your very climax triggering his own orgasm consecutively. His hands loosened their grip and set you free, and soon you were both lying flat on his bed, panting heavily.

“So,” he began through shallow breaths, and you braced yourself for whatever he could have possibly said next. “How’s that for a weak dick game?”

You glanced at him confused, then suddenly broke into a fit of laughter after you recalled what he was referencing. You had insulted his game. “I take it back,” you replied. “It’s alright.”

Mark raised a brow. “Just alright? Like I didn’t have to put your panties in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop screaming my name?”

“I was not screaming.”

“You were screaming. And…,”

Before he could add anything else - and you knew he would, refusing to let you live anything that happened today down - you smashed your lips against his and carded your fingers through his hair, effectively shutting him up. Mark kissed back with joy, smiling against your lips. All of the other kisses that you two shared had consisted of rough, unrestrained attempts at dominating one another, but this was slow and sweet. It was gentle, and dare you say loving.

“One more round?” you asked when you pulled away.

Mark snickered. “Don’t tempt me, baby. If we start with one it might become two.”

You licked your lips and grinned. That was useful information. “Nope, I’m tempting you. Now give in.”

Mark gave your lips another kiss, but immediately became distracted once he caught another glimpse of the swell of your breasts. “Damn, baby,” he sighed contentedly, running his hands over the shape. “I just fucking might.”

Temptations. Oh, how dangerous they were. But caving into them might have been the best decision you’d ever made - and Mark was living proof.

He was your temptation.

#mark smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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tastesousweet · 2 months ago

Text

roommate!hamzah x reader . . .

summary: little headcannons i have ab these 2!!! they’re just friends of course (wink)!!

a/n: hiii i’m slowly working on hamzah requests, ty to those who send them in for me <3

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . tends to do his morning routine without a shirt on (grabbing coffee, feeding the cats, sitting on the balcony while responding to texts he’s put off for far too long)

it’s never bothered you because you’re rarely awake early enough to know of it. yet one morning hamzah is mortified by your hook up from the night before, awake and attempting to crack jokes with him as he pours the remaining orange juice into a soft magenta-stained mug that a girlfriend had gifted you last christmas.

hamzah's eyes give a silent glare at both the audacity (of this random man who's decided to parade around the kitchen that is fifty percent his in nothing but those loose boxer shorts!) and out of disgust (he'd unfortunately heard a lot of last night's... action from his room down the hall and he hates that he now has a face to associate with the trauma).

there's a awkward tension that is clearly not reciprocated by the brash and flamboyant guy leaning against the fridge door with a smirk.

hamzah keeps his arms crossed over his own bare chest, stood next to the coffee machine- and for once he’s actually annoyed by the slow frequency of the coffee's stream and the accommodating, overwhelming smell. but he's starting to think it must be your fling’s presence that's causing everything around him to feel a bit violating.

“ummmm….” he’d delay with a deep exhale, unsure how to end a conversation he never asked to begin

the guy would take a long sip of orange juice, “i’m just wondering like, how long have you two lived together? she didn’t even tell me she lived with anyone so— i mean, it’s not everyday you see a girl hot as that living with some guy!" he pauses, "oh…wait, come on man you had to have hit by now…” he babbles on and hamzah stares blankly, stifling a laugh when it comes to the last assumption.

“man, i’m just tryna’ enjoy my breakfast…” hamzah wishes he’d never left his bedroom so early.

the guy nods his head, “yeah…yeah i get that. i should get back to y/n and stuff. she sleeps kinda heavy, huh?”

hamzah nods absentmindedly, sipping his black coffee and making his way out of the kitchen, “guess so…” he stops and looks back at him with a look of slight disgust, “next time at least put some pants on dude, cmon.”

later that day hamzah tells you about it and you laugh so hard you almost fall off of the soft brown couch. “oh my god!!!!” you laugh through your words, “was your masculinity challenged?! did you feel threatened?? maybe he was trying to eye you up- you were practically naked...” you have a grin that makes hamzah subconsciously grin with you, forcing him to overcompensate due to your implications.

"absolutely none of those things?! what the fuck??? no. he was a fuckin' dog, even asked me if we've..." hamzah stutters a bit while gesturing between the two of you.

your face is shocked first as you both silently gesture between the two of you, occasionally making more grotesque and sexual movements to which you both begin to laugh. "no way! that guy has nothing but mush for brains."

hamzah bites his inner cheek harshly, tightening a grip on the circle pillow in his large arm, "yeah..."

you keep your gaze on your fingers fidgeting with the couch before a smirk inches onto your face and your head slowly turns towards hamzah.

it still surprises him how nervous you can make him with something as simple and intriguing as your eye contact, so he flusters up a bit and sputters a soft laugh, "what?" he reaches for the remote on the coffee table to distract himself.

you hum to yourself and pick up a mini twizzler from the small candy dish in the center of the table before plopping yourself down, resting your head on the pillow sat in hamzah's lap.

hamzah attempts to keep his demeanor intact as you snuggle yourself into comfort (so much so, your tiny spaghetti strap on your loose sleep top falls down your shoulder in beautiful imperfection).

you struggle with attempting to unwrap the red candy before hamzah eventually offers to help, "y'want me to do it?"

"please?" you nod and shift to look directly up at him rather than the tv.

"mhm..." he easily uses his teeth to open it, "and i'm taking a piece for my hard work."

"uh huh, sharing is caring"

not only does hamzah feed himself a peel of the twizzler, he holds a piece above your mouth which you take from him with a giggle, "mm, thank you"

hamzah's eyes almost explode when he wakes up a week later to see you making yourself a smoothie clad only in a bra and silky sleep shorts. you'd laugh at him and tell him he's so fragile and he'd claim you're trying to steal his thing while covering his eyes dramatically.

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you like to play harmless pranks on in good spirits and post on your close friends story , calling it “hamzah hijinks”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . helps you cook or bake whenever you find a new recipe to try out on pinterest— at times they're even filmed and treated as competitions between you and mandy versus hamzah and martin

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . finds it difficult to not have a crush on you when his audience constantly tells him otherwise

there are plenty of shipping posts that come from your appearances and mentions on his channel but from your attitude hamzah's convinced you must not be aware of them or are truly that unbothered by anyone's opinion

clips such as you wiping flour from his cheek to which he joked, “okay stop it now, you know that really ignites my mommy issues”

or when you guest starred on a patreon episode of the podcast, adding small tidbits to the conversation while petting blue and eating a strawberry popsicle. leading hamzah to over reach and pet blue with you randomly, which many fans found cute— like you were a family

or whenever martin would bring you up and hamzah would immediately focus on what he says afterwards— many viewers have concluded he’s obsessed with you

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . now edits his youtube videos in the living room with your legs draped over his shoulders so that you can watch and help him when necessary (but mostly because of your abundantly clear physical love language)

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . thinks it’s really sweet that you can find a piece of him in any and everything without trying

“so i was out…”

hamzah leans his forearms against the island counter with a grin and his headset shifted from his ears (you interrupted his gaming and told him to come see you afterwards but he insisted on pausing for you) “uh huhhh??”

“andddd… i found a cute small shop and guess what they specialize in?!!!!”

“what??!!!”

“custom sonny angels!! so i got one for each of us.” you smile wide, “it’s crazy i just showed them a picture of us and they based the outfits on it. look at them!!!”

hamzah opens the box and finds the two small figures; one garnering his iconic nap queen hoodie and the other in one of your cute red babydoll tops. his mouth is wide for an extra second, “oh my god it’s us as lil’ babies” he laughs, “that’s so fucking cool, how much did you pay for this?”

“don’t worry about that. while i was waiting for them to paint those i also got you this nice green shirt from urban i just like this shade on you.” you held up the shirt and hamzah hugs you gently thanking you again with a short kiss to the top of your head.

“now lemme see what you got for yourself.”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . surprisingly finds you hiding away in the en-suite bathroom during a party you’re both hosting

“i didn’t think you would be in here??” he says while shutting the door behind him and taking a seat next to you on the bathroom floor

“i’m surprised to see you in here i lost you somewhere between martin showing up and that group of girls whisking you away.” you genuinely joke.

hamzah chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “yeah it��s really not like that— i’m really not like that.”

“i know you.” you smile at his oddly nervous face.

“why’d you end up in here?” he sighs and gives your side a soft tap of acknowledgment.

“i thought i just needed to use the bathroom but then i started to find myself way happier alone in here than out there right now.”

“i feel that. i don’t know if half of those people even know this is my house.”

“i know most of them don’t know this is my house.”

hamzah laughs and lets his head hang into the open space of his bent legs, to which you take the opportunity to steal his hat from his head, plopping it on top of yours.

“come on bruh, that was supposed to cover up this mess!” hamzah jokes referring to his wildly curly hair.

“it’s far from a mess hamzah, please.” and when he turns to you, you cradle his head with both hands, scratching softly at his scalp to help revive his hat-hair.

he stares at you kindly, “mm’hold on let me see it,” he gently pulls your hands away and stands to look into the mirror. “oh my god it’s fucking horrid.”

you stand up to defend as if you crafted his hair yourself, “stop it! it looks fine,” you lean onto your tip toes to fluff it a little more, “i like it like this,”

“oh really?” he exaggerates a lift of his eyebrows and manages to catch your eye in the mirror for a second before you look away bashfully.

“hey! don’t get all shy now,” he looks behind him and confidently wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, “it’s okay. i like yours like this,” he smiles and you roll your eyes playfully.

“‘m not gettin’ shy!” you wrap your arms around his lower torso and bury your head in his chest before you pop the question, reaching up to whisper in his ear, “did max bring you more weed??”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . hotboxes your bathroom with you, making sure to bring any snacks from the crowded kitchen for the munchies that will undoubtedly come afterward

this is one of the few times you’ve got a real good look in hamzah’s eyes.

the bathroom reeks of weed and the two of you (mostly you) decided that sitting face to face was far better than side by side. it was silent for a while before you felt the need to speak about his eyes.

“did you know your eyes aren’t black?” you ask.

hamzah shakes his head slowly.

“well they have the tiniest brownie-brown to them but you’d only know if you’re like this close,” you jokingly move close enough to touch your noses together.

hamzah looks over your entire face, realizing he’s never been this physically close to you before. you glance at his lips then to his glossy red eyes.

“you smell like coconut cookies,” hamzah smiles.

you sit back on your calves, across from him with his legs crossed, “i think it’s my shampoo,” you play around with a few strands.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you nod before sitting up again, resting your hands lightly on his thighs to hold yourself up, “do you wanna do something?”

he stares at you for a moment, “like what?”

“do you trust me?” he finds that your eyes glimmer extra when they’ve got that certain puffiness and widened pupil combination.

“yeah, ‘f course, but what are we doinggg?” hamzah drags unseriously.

“just shhh,” you smile and reach for his arm behind him, slowly bringing his cold hand up to your soft cheek. “is that okay?”

hamzah sends a silent nod.

“okay,” you breathe and bring your face closer to his.

hamzah’s mind is so boggled. he can’t believe any of this; he’s completely struck by awe and tangled in your sweet cherry stem of affection. he thinks you’re a special kind of girl; one with an attitude both sexy and innocently loving. so infatuating that he’s realizing he can’t kiss you, not here, not when you’re high and thinking irresponsibly.

not when there’s a chance that you’ll wake up tomorrow and not remember it, or worse ask him to forget about it for your sake.

not when your friendship lies directly on that line.

“mm, yeah we really… shouldn’t…” he takes pauses between his words, it almost physically hurts him to see you that stunned by his words with your face still safe in his palm.

you’re completely flustered and blink your eyes a few times before retreating from his space, “oh… fuck, i’m so sorry that was-”

“it’s not like that- it’s more like, not right now. later?” he scrambles for a response as you’re trying to keep yourself from drowning in embarrassment.

“mhm sure yeah, i’ll be back.” you give a forced smile and leave him alone on the tile floor.

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you wake up the morning after a house party and find in your bathroom tub with a sharpie mustache above his lip and a pink post it note that read: “GOODNIGHT SUGAR!!! BEST PARTY EVER - Martin :D” written in a barely legible scrawl

#poor hazmat :((((#hamzahthefantastic x you #hamzahthefantastic fanfic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #martin and hamzah #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x y/n #hamzah #slushy noobz virus #slushynoobz #slushy noobz #thatmartinkid #martin #4freakshow

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palajae · 3 months ago

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eastside.

PAIRING... agent!riki x agent!reader | GENRE... partners! au, romance, angst, mentions of violent, blood, guns, death implications | WC... 1k | “i’m not doing to die, you idiot.”

it’s pretty simple, really.

you and your partner were sent out on an undercover mission—as a couple on vacation. you thought that last bit was unnecessary, but for some reason your partner insisted on the cover story. it made it all the more believable.

whatever, you were used to it. after all, working together for four years made your teamwork and bond the best of the best. it wasn’t everyday that you were assigned to a s-class mission. that is, until your cover was blown.

luckily, everyone had been evacuated before the resort had gone under fire, leaving you two to deal with the remaining mess.

“when’s backup coming?”

“it’s gonna take at least thirty minutes. we’re not exactly in the most accessible of locations.” his voice sounds rather exasperated through the earpiece.

everything seemed clear, it was just up to you two to get out of the place. you duck down, avoiding as much crashing and falling debris as possible. you needed to get to him. stealthily, you’re able to make it to the exit, peeking around the corner to spot your partner.

right as you’re about to run over, you feel the hairs on your arm rise. quickly, you scan the area, only to spot a flash of movement from above. there was still one straggler remaining. you curse when you notice the gun in his hands.

you were just out of his view, but your partner was in his plain sight. and he was completely oblivious, you knew he looking around for you like always.

“ki, i need you to fall back.” you try your best to keep your voice steady and calm, although the slight quiver at the end of your words gives you away.

“what?” he stops in his tracks, glancing around in confusion.

“do it!” you beg. he falters, having never heard such desperation in your voice.

“you trust me.”

it wasn’t a question, but a statement. everything you needed to say, everything he needed to hear, was conveyed in those three words.

you inhale, rushing into the open area and aiming your gun at the guy. he spots you as soon as ni-ki begins to retreat.

please, you beg.

for what exactly, you’re not sure.

as soon as the shot goes off, ni-ki spots you and rushes to your side. heart pounding, he scans the area. since when was there another guy left? either way, the man is effectively taken out.

“fifteen more minutes, guys.”

ni-ki could care less. he brushes a few stray hairs off your clean face.

“y/n, you-“

why are your eyes closed?

his blood runs cold when he pulls his hands back.

all he sees is red.

“o-oh god y/n? listen, you’re fine. right? you’re okay.”

ni-ki tightens his hold around your limp body, eyes never leaving the sight of the red continually blooming from your stomach. he keeps pressure on the wound, doing his best not to freak out even more, but when he doesn’t receive any sort of response or reaction, his mouth dries.

he calls out your name again and again, placing a hand on your face and shaking slightly as if that would immediately wake you up.

"no, please! you just…you can’t leave me like this-“ his voice cracks.

your eyes fly open in annoyance. “ni-ki! will you just shut up for a minute? i’m not going to die, you idiot.”

you sigh. you can feel it.

he’s trembling. even worse, it’s the first time you’ve seen unshed tears in his eyes.

you place your hand over his on your cheek, squeezing slightly as if to comfort him. that action is enough for you to allow your eyes to flutter shut.

you felt really, really exhausted. so much to the point where everything seems to fade away, the sound of your partner’s panicked cries and the throbbing pain coming off in waves from your side.

you put in countless years and years of hard work with no rest or relaxation—all the blood, sweat, and tears—just to get to this point.

maybe, just for a brief second, you could rest.

a/n ▸ so like… sorry? hope you enjoy this gift tho lovelies <3

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @kynrki @heesterical @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount

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#enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #niki fluff #niki scenarios #nishimura riki x you

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 8 months ago

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Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property.

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate.

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried.

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin

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tinietaehyun · 2 months ago

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A Cup of Madness, Please!

[MadHatter!Beomgyu x lost!Reader] [Wondrous Tales] [Series] [One-shot]

Pairing: MadHatter!Beomgyu x Lost!Reader

Genre(s): Fantasy, dark fantasy, action, dark romance, supernatural.

Contains: Profanity, mentions/implications of drug use/sedative, complex themes of time, obsessive behaviour, mental breakdowns, binding, violence, gaslighting, manipulation and dialogue-heavy.

Note: thanks for such a patient wait guys! Had t rework this one a lot, and I hope the end result is good! <3

Links: Wondrous Tales Masterlist || Masterlist

Summary: Having managed to elude the tea party and trick Kai into thinking you’ll stay, you scramble for your life by bargaining with a strange caterpillar hanging from the trees to escape.

Being barely lucid, you stumble into what seems to be another secluded grove, another tea party. Oh, you were definitely mad by this point. Not again! You see exuberant host with his feet up on the table with a grin, “Welcome, welcome, do come and join me, little love. I have lots of tea or are you sick of it from the March Hare?”

Panicked you rush off past him, he makes no move to chase after you. How strange. “Toodles, love!” Grimacing you rush off through the tangled foliage….only to arrive back to where you were facing the man again. A loop…?

“Time’s prisoner I am, and so you will be too. I’m awfully lonely and the hare’s fed up of my games. You’ll play with me and keep this Hatter company won’t you?”

Your feet drag along the muddy path. Everything seemed utterly weird here (which was saying a lot considering how much you had experienced and seen beforehand!) but this- this was truly weird!

You gaze at the floating leaves, the wind-blown trees of vibrant hues stuck in position, the birds in the sky forming floating statues with the way they hovered in place. Your mind itself felt fuzzy, your movements slow. This entire area felt absent of time. Despite having walked for what seemed to be ages, you felt as if you progressed nowhere at all.

Was this a sign that you were getting closer to the Hatter? Was this the consequence of killing time? Was he also perpetually stuck in this place with no way out? Surely you’d be safe right, you had heeded the caterpillar’s words of not following the path! Then why was everything getting even worse, you felt as though you were walking right into that madman’s hands!

Instinct bubbles uneasily within you as you sluggishly walk. Something didn’t feel right at all, in fact, it made you feel nervous. From what you had heard about the man, nothing good was bound to occur if you met face to face with that lunatic.

You shudder at the thought. Now your main objective was to somehow make it to the Cheshire Cat’s Woods. Your gaze lifts to the horizon, in the distance you see a murky, foggy space, the ominous silhouette of jagged trees. That’s where you were heading to. It made you feel uneasy, even just from the sight of it from afar. That would be your ticket out of here!

With a renewed vigor, you clench your fists and continue walking ahead. You had to make it out of here, no matter what. You clutch your head, a pounding pain pulsating in your forehead; your perception of time is warped and fatigue strains upon your bones. Everything felt overwhelming and all you wanted to do was go home and take an extraordinarily long nap. To think, you’d have called yourself insane before this, to miss your monotonous and stressful life!

The muddy path seems to curve off away from all the frozen in time chaos and floating objects and your shoulders slouch in relief. Anything further from the Hatter was good news in your eyes. You continue trudging along the path. How much more would you have to walk, to endure? Your mind felt weak, your sanity crumbling by every encounter you had. You really didn’t want to go insane here.

The foliage begins to morph and change, monochromatic bushes of black and white, the path ahead of you seems to change with every blink causing you to become disoriented. What the fuck was happening here? You wobble slightly and your mind feels fuzzy. That same unsettling feeling from before - it was nauseating. As though you had no grasp on anything. White noise fills your ears and you groan covering your ears, you begin running along the path in desperation.

What the hell was this place? You had to get out! After a while running; barely barely lucid, you stumble into what seems to be another secluded grove, another tea party. Oh, you were definitely mad by this point. Not again!

Your legs tremble and you attempt to steady yourself as the white static in your eardrums fades. The tea cups and saucers were mismatched, and numerous were shattered to smithereens on the floor. The table cloth was a colourful mismatch of fabrics, colours and patterns. The chairs all pristinely aligned along the sides and the food seemed untouched - varying from cupcakes, cakes, biscuits, scones and croissants perfectly baked to perfection, sweet and alluring in aroma, making your mouth water ever so slightly.

You couldn’t have wandered in a big circle back to the Hare, could you? No…it couldn’t be. The worst place to be in Wonderland. This couldn’t be the Hatter’s Tea Party? Oh you so desperately wanted to deny it, but you knew. You had indeed fucked up terribly.

“Welcome, welcome, do come and join me, little love. I have lots of tea or are you sick of it from the March Hare?” A rich, husky voice startles you and you whip your head to the side. Another small table of delights and treats arranged in pristine fashion. There, you see the exuberant host with his feet up on the table with a grin.

You look around mortified, it was! It was the Hatter’s Party! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fear courses through your system, you don’t think your mind could handle another insane encounter! You realise nothing is fenced off in this grove, you were free to roam. Why did you have to indulge him anyway? What if you made a run for it now?

Panicked, you rush off past him, he makes no move to chase after you. How strange? No…this felt wrong. Did he simply not care? Were you running into another trap? He calls out grinning, “Toodles, love!” Oh shit. This wasn’t good.

Why couldn’t you think straight at all? You felt so weird, so disoriented? Where did all your logic fly off too? You keep running, adrenaline coursing through your vessels. Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but you didn’t seem to have any idea, you just wanted to avoid the Hatter at all costs. But now, you feel as though you had walked right into the palm of his hand.

Grimacing, you rush off through the tangled foliage, twigs and leaves brush your face. Heavy pants leave your lips, all you wanted to do was escape. You keep running…only to arrive back to where you were, facing the peculiar man again.

Fuck. What was this? A loop?

The eccentric male tilts his head, a wide grin on his lips and mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he gleams, “Time’s prisoner I am, and so you will be too. I’m awfully lonely and the hare’s fed up with my games. You’ll play with me and keep this Hatter company won’t you?”

Your heart slams against your sternum. Was there truly no way out? Or were you simply going insane? He swings his feet off the table enthusiastically and stands abruptly adjusting his tailcoat, a seductive shade of dark blue with vibrant patterned patches here and there and blood red corsage in his chest pocket. If it weren’t for this place, you’d have thought he was a prince out of some fairytale.

Who would have thought the epitome of madness would have such a pretty face? Chiseled features, pouty lips, raven locks which fall in a wolf cut framing his face perfectly; a few strands over his piercing murky eyes. A sharp jaw and pointed nose, truly a beauty with brimming insanity beneath his skin.

With his hands behind his back, he skips over with an ominously delightful tune. Instinctively, you step back, “I-I just want to get to the woods is all, please, I-I- I’ve had enough.”

He tilts his head with a delighted expression and coos, “Oh? You beg so pretty. You’ve had enough? But we’ve just met, love? My darling little love, I’ve been waiting for you! Oh! You mean the others!” The man throws his head back laughing and tosses his top hat off with a flair. Running his hand through his hair, he giggles, “You don’t like our hospitality?”

Hospitality? Glaring, you take another step back, warily keeping your gaze locked onto him. He walks forward, “It’s been ever so long since I’ve had a guest. It’s so, so, so unfair y’know? That pesky king takes the ones that do show up and kills them when he’s bored? Tell me love, then what am I supposed to do? I also want a pretty little guest. And well, well, well, if you made it this far, you truly must be very special!”

You open your mouth to speak. “Ah, ah, ah, shush, shush! Let me introduce myself, love. I,” he exclaims, with an extravagant spin with outstretched arms, “…am the Mad Hatter, tea party extraordinaire, the most fun person in this dreary place called Wonderland...” he hops over and you yelp as his face is millimetres from yours. His voice drops to a whisper, “But, you can also call me Beomgyu.” Like a gentleman, he bows down taking your hand delicately and bringing it up to his lips as he places a soft kiss on the back of your hand. It sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze. It looked like he was going to devour you whole.

Once again, you open your mouth to speak but you’re halted by his index finger on your lips, “Ah, ah, let me finish. Now…” You stiffen. “Say it, say my name. Let's see how it sounds coming from those pretty lips of yours,” he coos. Your eyes widen - goodness, he was impressively tall. All of the wacky figures of Wonderland were terribly good looking too! Almost as if the divine were cursing you!

You remain silent and Beomgyu tilts his head, and your breath hitches as he suddenly grasps your jaw tilting your head up, his lips inches from your own, as he murmurs, “I said,” his tone darkens, “Say my name. Don’t hesitate for long, if you want to stay alive, play along.”

With great reluctance, you utter, “…Beomgyu.” He releases your chin with a sudden bright smile, “Wonderful, beautiful, how lovely indeed! Now, was that so hard, love?” You glare remaining silent and he chuckles leaning down, “Oh you are terribly cute aren’t you? How did the others let you escape, hm? Goodness, who wouldn’t want to keep you to themselves with such an adorable pouty expression? Now your name.”

You remain quiet and he leans closer making you blurt out, “Y/n.” Beomgyu muses, “Oh a lovely name indeed for my pretty little guest.”

Infuriated, you snap, “Stop. This- look. I just want to leave. I’m tired. I…I’m- I don’t know what to do anymore!” Beomgyu shakes his head, “Tsk, oh dear, you must be so tired. So fatigued. I always knew the others never knew how to treat their guests well. So incompetent.”

With a flourish of his wrist, he leans over and grabs a dark purple rose out of one of the vases. A sudden fit of giggles escapes him as he covers his mouth abruptly, “Sorry love, you have to get used to that. I just… find a lot of things amusing.” Another set of giggles leaves his lips and a terrible feel of unease permeates your very being. Oh, he was insane, alright.

Beomgyu raises the rose to your line of sight making you flinch back as you eye the thorns on the stem. His lips twitch and his eyes widen, sparkling with fervour, with…hunger. “Take it love, an introductory gift from me. It’s my most favourite flower here.”

Stammering, you respond, “N-No thanks I-“ He suddenly snaps, “No? You’re saying no?” You feel your hands go cold at his tone before his expression morphs into a pleasant smile and then into manic laughter sending a jolt of fear through you.

“Goodness! You look terrified! How amusing! Were you scared?” Beomgyu asks, chuckling. “You’ve looked more scared than the moment you first saw me? Why? Did the others tell you bad things about me?” He pouts, reaching over to cup to your cheek, “I’m not scary, I just know how to have fun? Is that so bad? Tell me love, is that so bad?”

You stay quiet, hands trembling. You can’t even look him in the eye. Beomgyu suddenly tilts your head upwards again, his lips twisting into a smirk, “Oh love, feeling shy? Oh why? Come now, keep those pretty eyes on me, hm?” You quiver, “What do you want from me?

“Oh, oh, oh! What a great question!” He exclaims before scoffing with a roll of his eyes, “If it weren’t so abhorrently boring. But to answer your curiosity, I don’t know.”

You deadpan, “You don’t know?” He grins a little too widely, “Mhm, I don’t know. You don’t know either. We both don’t know. The possibilities are endless. Isn’t that glorious?”

Beomgyu gazes at the rose in his left hand, “What a thing of beauty,” he holds it up to your face, “Almost as gorgeous as you, love.” You roll your eyes. He drags the soft petal down your forehead slowly, along the bridge of your nose and rests it on your lips, “Doesn’t it smell divine?” Before you can muster a reply, a wonderfully sweet aroma emits from the rose. You inhale deeper, never have you smelt such an enticing scent. What the hell?…

“Inhale it deeply, love,” he lets out a breathy chuckle and you pale. What did you just breathe in? He takes the rose giving it a big inhale and sighs deliriously happy, “Oh, wait for it to kick in. You said you were tired right?”

Your legs buckle and your sight blurs. What drugs was this rose made from? Wacky and vibrant colours fill your gaze and the surroundings distort and stretch making you feel delirious.

“Isn’t it marvellous? Are you having fun?” He cackles watching you clutch your forehead and stumble and clumsily waver. “You can see the world, the way I do!” He laughs loudly, “Its a little hard you see, when time doesn’t move. Makes you go a little cuckoo, but hey on the bright side, you’re never late, or never early, or, or, never really on time at all!” Beomgyu guffaws clutching his stomach as if he had uttered the funniest phrase in existence.

Meanwhile, you were struggling to keep your ground feeling even the ground below you give way. You felt as though you were floating. Beomgyu hums amused, “Ah, look at your eyes blissed out, such a dazed expression, ah, I could never grow weary of such a sight.”

Knees buckling, you clutch your head as your eyelids feel weighty, drowsiness overwhelms your senses - with which you feel yourself hurtling to the ground and your vision snaps to black.

The Hatter muses crouching down, whether he’s amused by the thousands of colours he’s seeing or the fact you fell down with about as much grace as a sack of potatoes spilling, he himself didn’t know. Either way, he was utterly delighted to have someone after so, so long to be stuck in time with him!

Time was overrated. The future is bleak, unpredictable. Change is far too outdone. It’s not about the what ifs, but the what nows. He had killed time with his bare hands for that very reason, tore the fabric of existence here into shreds. He didn’t want Wonderland to progress forward, how preposterous would that be? What if one day everything faded into obscurity? What if…what if he were to be forgotten? The sheer horror of the thought sends a shudder down hus spine.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, he shakes his head, distraught laughs tumble from his lips, “We can’t have that.” Beomgyu gazes at you, his pupils dilated manically, “You poor thing, oh love, wanting to leave. You don’t know a thing about enjoying the present, not being tainted by the future. Eroded by the ravages of time.” He runs his thumb delicately over your cheek, “It’s okay, I’ll teach you, and I’ll make sure I don’t let you escape like I did with Alice, oh so long ago.”

After what seems like hours, you feel a terrible migraine. Your ears feel numb and you feel as though all the blood was rushing to your head. What the fuck did he do to you? You pry your eyes open and flinch at the light coming in. To your horror, everything was upside down. The same scene, but upside down. Your arms hang below your hand, fingertips grazing the vibrant grass below.

No wonder the blood was rushing to your head! You crane your neck to see your legs and see them tied up. You were hanging like a pendulum off one of the branches of this massive tree! Holy shit! Panic surges through your system, he was a a maniac! With every writhe of your body and deep breath, you swing pathetically.

Footsteps resound and you spot the familiar shoes in your line of sight. A low laugh escapes his lips, “You’re awake. I was beginning to think that my scent-of-sleep-rose had killed you or something.” You glare seething at him - him and stupid fucking smile.

“To make you aware, it is you, who is upside down, not me. Then again, to you, I must look upside down. Perception is a funny thing isn’t it?” He rambles with a grin. You snarl, “What’s wrong with you? I’ve done nothing to deserve this!”

Beomgyu snickers, “Oh hush, hush. Why so angry love? I just wanted to play a game. Believe me, we could talk forever, and I mean that literally by the way,” he giggles before abruptly covering his mouth and composing himself, “But I thought, we could make things a little more fun? I like fun. You like fun. Everyone does. So…why so cranky?”

This piece of…your jaw tightens. His gaze sharpens and he leans down, his hand giving your body a little push and you feel nausea hit you unceremoniously. “Well, what are you going to do about it? Glare into me till I what? Turn to ashes, quiver and blubber away,” he mocks, raising his tone of voice. Beomgyu coos, “Love, you’re in my territory, my grove now. My rules, my games, my…my everything.” He dramatically bends down plucking a bright blade of grass between his index and thumb, “Even this blade of grass,” he blows it in your face with a chuckle.

Anger and fear amalgamate within you into an uncomfortable mixture. Beomgyu’s voice darkens, a crazed expression in his widening eyes as he leans down; his face inches from yours, “Even…you.” Beomgyu stands brightly spinning around with a bright demeanour and a clap of his hands, “So! Suck it up, buttercup!”

Your restraint snaps, all your deliria, patience, fatigue building until it bursts like a geyser as you release a shrill scream piercing the air. It takes Beomgyu aback, the sound rattling his eardrums and momentarily making him stiffen.

You scream hoarsely, “Suck it up? Suck it up!? You’re fucking deplorable! You insane maniac! You- you- do you even know how hard it has been to get here? It’s all just a fucking game to all of you!” Your gaze burns into his as he quietly observes your apparent mental breakdown. You snarl, as you swing pitifully, your hands digging into the dirt to steady yourself. “I’d wish you hell! But this place is already worse than hell itself,” you seethe.

“Is it so fucking hard to get a break here?” You shout, tears running back into your eyes with how you were upside down. “And this! Being fucking hung up like meat at a butcher’s shop, icing on the cake really!” You continue rambling and cursing for another minute as Beomgyu stares almost entranced by you.

You snap catching his stare, “What? What now?” For a moment, he doesn’t reply before stepping forward and dropping to his knees. The expression you see next sends a chill through your body. Wide-eyed, he cups your face, “That was beautiful, what a performance. So much pent up emotion,” another set of tittering laughs leaves him.

“Are you…” he laughs again, “are you losing your mind already, love?”

Your heart flies to your throat. No. No you couldn’t be. No way. That was just…a little pent up anger. No, no, no. You? You going mad? That was ludicrous to even suggest. The Mad Hatter of all people to suggest such a thing?

He coos, fingers pressing into your cheeks, “That look in your eyes, it’s like mine. So chaotic, so panicked, so fiery, so delirious. I can see it, this place has taken its toll on you, as it has done on me. We’re the same. Not willing to die, but to endure, to afraid to never wake up again, but tormented to live!”

Beomgyu rambles as you blankly regard him, your mind spinning. Maybe it was the fact that you were hanging upside down or were you genuinely losing your mind? You couldn’t tell anymore.

You attempt to compose yourself as you splutter, “Beomgyu…I- I can’t be stuck like this forever.” He cuts you off, “Oh don’t worry about that, I’ve killed time! So you can? See,” he gestures wildly around him, “I have..,I’ve been stuck here, even if I want to leave I can’t! I just get brought back here,” he throws his head back laughing maniacally.

You feel even more nauseous than before. How were you going to get out of this one? You tremble, “Stuck? You…can’t leave? Why? Because you killed time?”

He nods wiping a tear away from laughing so hard, “Precisely, love. Consider it a punishment of sorts,” he leans down whispering, “Though this is exactly what I wanted, but don’t tell anyone that. This way, Wonderland can stay happy forever, no one will forget anyone, because we’re all perpetually stuck,” Beomgyu huffs, “Especially me, I can’t even leave my grove, the other losers here can at least have a little more freedom.”

You couldn’t imagine why anyone would subject themselves to this? No wonder he was like this, such a fractured mind, such a delicate psyche. You stammer, “W-Why?”

“Why?” He asks tilting his head, “Why?” He chuckles as he rapidly runs his hands through his head, “Because I wanted to. That pesky rabbit kept saying he was late, that abhorrent king said my tea parties lasted way too long. That crafty hare was trying to steal my limelight. Pathetic scum, the lot of them! And, and, and, the guests we get, oh love, before you, we hadn’t gotten anyone new in Wonderland for so long!”

He squeezes your cheeks, “Could you imagine how bored I was? Time was passing so quickly. The king barely came to my parties anymore, the Hare went his own way, and that stupid white rabbit didn’t even bother to tell me anything of anyone anymore. I was…” he giggles brokenly, “I think, I think I was being forgotten? Me?” He cackles, “Me? Being forgotten, isn’t that so funny? I’m the most memorable of the bunch!”

It hits you like a truck. The one weakness of the Mad Hatter. Time. Time’s passage. He was obsessed with being stuck in a moment. The relentless forward march of time terrified him.

Beomgyu releases your face and he peers down at his shaking hands with a wide smile, “Oh look at that. Even my hands are excited.” Afraid, you think, he’s afraid. He’s afraid of the fading joy and madness that defines his existence. He’s afraid of being forgotten.

You almost, almost feel bad. Perhaps you’d even feel sympathy if it weren’t for the fact you were hanging like a bat off a branch. A twinge of guilt permeates you…would it be so bad to exploit his weakness? To get out of here? Would that make you a bad person. No, you just wanted to flee is all.

“Why so quiet?” His voice is sharp and you’re startled by the husk in his tone and you see that you had zoned out whilst he rambled incessantly. “What?” You murmur dazed. Beomgyu’s lips form a twisted smile, “You’re definitely losing your mind.”

“I’m not,” you fire back. He coos, “Denial is always the first step. I would know, after all.” You snap, “I’m not! Just- Just let it be!”

He snickers, “Why? Is being mad so bad? I believe in madness lies great genius! Only the best people are crazy after all. Hmm…that brings me to the question, is being crazy, the same as being mad?”

You groan frustrated and yell, “Just keep quiet for ten minutes, please.” The Hatter muses, “Agitation, the common second phase of going mad,” he smiles darkly, “I like that, the notion of making you go so insane, you cease to function- no, no!” His eyes widen stopping himself, “No..not cease but ascend, to see things the way I do.”

Beomgyu stands with an eccentric step, “Don’t you feel pity? For the Hatter is lonely in his madness? Won’t you join this Hatter in his madness? In his little stagnant bubble?”

Silence stretches between the both of you as you simply gaze at each other. You didn’t know what to say - were you overwhelmed, drained? You didn’t know. You felt nothing.

Beomgyu grabs a chair and spins it around, sitting on it back to front, resting his chin on the back of the chair with his arms for support. “I don’t like when you’re quiet. That scream you let out earlier was delightful. Could you do it again?”

You give him a blank stare, attempting to get your fried brain to work. His gaze morphs into one of displeasure, “Are you ignoring me?”

You say nothing drilling your blank gaze into his. His jaw tenses, a scary expression on his face, “I don’t quite like what you’re doing, Y/n.”

With a long sigh, he hums, “Fine, fine, I’ll humour you since you’re special. I’ll stop pestering. How about this? I’ll let you down-“ Your eyes brighten and his lips quirk up, “Oh that got your attention now did it? All you had to do was say so, love.” You grit your teeth, piece of shit! As if he’d do so if you asked.

“I’ll let you down, if you play a little game. I think we’ve both been a little too personal with each other an frankly I’m just itching to see how that pretty head of yours works. So let’s lighten the mood. Riddles.”

You groan loudly, “No…I can’t even think straight now.” Beomgyu giggles, “That’s because you’re upside down silly!” If you could just wrap your hands around his neck and-

“Anyway, you don’t have a choice, love! I’m good at keeping promises, so don’t worry. All you have to do is answer the riddles correctly and I’ll untie you.”

“What if we raise the stakes? If I answer them correctly, you’ll let me go?” You murmur. His face morphs into one of disdain, “Come now love, that’s not what we agreed to do.” You snap, “We, we? We didn’t agree to anything? It’s all you!”

“You, me, he, she, whatever, whatever, all these are trivial details!” He exclaims. You smirk catching him off guard, “You’re afraid.”

He stiffens, his eyes narrowing, “Afraid? Of what?” Time. But you didn’t want to say that outright. You murmur, “Of me winning. Moving ahead. So you don’t even want to put that option on the table. Because there will always be the tiniest sliver of a chance that I’ll win.”

For a moment, you see his lips twitch and twist upwards and his head snap into a tilt, “Oh. Oh you think you’re so clever don’t you?”

You hum, “I do.” You expect him to seethe with anger but instead he smiles widely, “Good, I like guests with a little spunk. By far, you’re my favourite yet.”

“So you agree to my terms?” You beam. The Hatter muses sardonically, “Of course not, love. Don’t be foolish. Even if you left, you’d not be able to break the loop.”

“And how do you break the loop exactly?” You raise a brow asking. The Mad Hatter observes you amused, “You can’t.”

“I’m sure I can, there has to be a way,” you retort. “There is, one guest managed to. Pesky little brat,” he grits out. You hum, “Care to share?” Beomgyu sarcastically smiles, “When you win my game, I will.”

“Fine, if I win, you’ll tell me how to break the loop,” you mutter. He muses, “Mm, I’ll think about it. Actually, I don’t know. I lied.”

Fury bubbles up within you. Of fucking course! He resumes, “Anyway, first riddle. I can be cracked, made and told. What am I?”

Your brain whirrs slowly. Everything seemed foggy. Cracked? What on Earth? Think, think, think Y/n! Your brows furrow as you see his smug smile. Told…made…? Cracked? Oh-your eyes widen. A joke! A joke!

Before your lips part to answer, you hold back. Why did you have to oblige him? He never promised you anything. Who said you had to give the right answer? You tentatively murmur, “A…secret.”

He stiffens, before snickering, “Oh love, that’s incorrect.” You feign innocence, “A secret can be told, made, and cracked, can it not?” The Hatter’s lips part and then close for a moment and he scoffs, “The answer was a joke, love, a joke. Come now, that was easy.”

“I’m technically right,” you snap. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, “No, you’re not.” You scoff, “It fits the criteria!” He muses, “It doesn’t fit my criteria.” You notice the surprise in his gaze as if he expected you to get the riddle right off the bat.

Hm. Perhaps the key, was to unsettle the Hatter. Use his weakness against him. Time. Lower his guard and attack. He mutters, “Second riddle, I’ll make it even easier this time,” he sighs drawling out his words, “The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I?”

Oh you’d heard this one before! It was footsteps! You furrow your brows deep in thought. Beomgyu sharply observes you and muses, “Oh come on, this is a classic riddle, don’t tell me you don’t know this? How did you even get this far then?”

Tiredly, you sigh, “I…I don’t know. I just…don’t know.” His gaze shifts and he mutters, “What’s this…this was supposed to be more exciting.” He scoffs, “Whatever, just say an answer, don’t keep me waiting.” You see him tapping his foot and you have to refrain from smirking, he’s giving you a hint.

You think deeply. Hm, the more you take. The more you leave behind. The more time you take. The more time you leave behind. Time. You could also say time. How…perfect.

“Time.” You utter. The Hatter’s slouch diminishes and his gaze blazes into you, “What? That’s preposterous? How? How in Wonderland do you mess that up?” You feign being disoriented, “I- Is that not right? Everything feels…so…ugh.”

Beomgyu’s eyes narrow, his grip on the back of the chair tightening, “It’s footsteps! The second one is also wrong!” You let out a laugh and you see his right eye twitch. “What’s so funny, that I’m not laughing with you?” He questions.

You laugh louder, “You…you look confused.” His body tenses and he observes you laughing to yourself. Had you truly gone mad? He himself mirrors your laughter, “Has that head of yours been upside down for a little too long? My, my, perhaps my riddles are too complex for you at the moment. You’re losing your sanity as we speak.”

You snap, feigning anger, “No! I-“ His lips form a devilish smile, “Oh but you are, love.” You clutch your head and groan, “No, no, no-“ you let out a frustrated yelp, and you gaze into his eyes widely, “Please, just let me down!”

Beomgyu regards you for a long time before finally stepping forward. He reaches into his pocket pulling out a handkerchief, a flower, a broken pocket watch and then he scoffs in irritation. “Nothing to cut you down with.”

You gaze at the fractured glass of the pocket watch on the grass . How curious that he still had such an item with him. He grabs a knife and walks over beginning to slice at the rope around your ankles, “Do cover your head, don’t want you knocking what’s left of your sanity right out of you upon impact now, do we?”

It had worked! How odd…he caved in quicker than expected. You yelp as you feel yourself fall into a crumpled heap on the ground. The urge to vomit surfaces from the sheer blood rushing back to where it’s supposed to be. God…you felt awful.

You sit up groaning, hair disheveled and panting for breath. Beomgyu crouches tossing the knife aside and grabs your jaw tilting your head upwards, “You’re certainly something, y’know that?” His eyes scan down your flushed face and he smirks amused by your state, his thumb tugs at your lower lip, “Such a pretty thing. I almost feel bad. But if it means you can see things from my point of you, then I’m indeed happy to enable your insanity. Because what I’m doing, what you’re experiencing,” he leans closer; his sweet breath caresses your cheeks, “is your mind being freed. Sanity is the chain which holds you down, but madness, insanity, it opens your mind. You might be feared, marginalised but they don’t know how we think. They fear the unknown, what we’re capable of.”

You gaze into his eyes. God, that face. The type of face you’d believe anything that’d come out of his sinful lips. He whispers, “With every moment, everything you do, it just feels intoxicating. You so…unpredictable, so…thrilling. I love it. I love everything about you so far.” The words send a dark unease through you.

You question, voice just above a whisper, “Tell me, why did you kill time? It’s because you fear the passage of it. The passage of time means you’ll eventually be forgotten.” Beomgyu’s fingers dig into your jaw and his eyes darken, “You don’t get it. Being forgotten- ah, ha,” he brokenly muses, “No, no, no, you don’t understand it like I do.”

You murmur softly, placing your hand timidly atop his, “Then explain it to me.” His eyes widen bizarrely by your sudden compassion, “What are you up to?” You muse, “You don’t trust me?”

His eyes narrow and you see his lips twitching trying to refrain from smiling, “I don’t. But I want to.”

“I won’t leave,” you murmur and add on, “Not like I can. Even if I did, I’d be stuck in this godforsaken loop, that you so, kindly won’t tell me how to break,” you emphasise and he snorts, “Oh I genuinely don’t know. Even I can’t break it. As I said, it’s part of my punishment. As long as I exist, it will exist also.”

You hum, “If you cease to exist?” His eyes widen panicked, “No- no that can’t be. I can never die in this realm. Time has to pass for that.” Time to throw a wrench into his philosophy.

With a small smile, you utter, “You don’t exist outside of Wonderland.” His gaze snaps to yours, “What?”

“No one knows you outside of this world,” you say bleakly. Your hand tightens across his. You had to make him break down, had to keep him distracted until you could think of something more concrete.

“That’s…preposterous,” he stammers, “Even if I don’t technically exist there, I still exist here. I’m still alive.” You murmur, “That girl who once escaped, surpassed the loop, she must have forgotten you, no?”

You remember the caterpillar’s words. Only one of the many guests here had escaped Wonderland. That must be her!

Beomgyu rips his hand away roughly and his gaze darkens. Your notice his breathing become ragged and a mixture of anger and panic on his visage. Beomgyu trembles, “Stop it- don’t remind me of such nonsense! She…no. Forgotten me? I had almost driven her insane, there’s no way she could have forgotten me?”

You continue, “She’s escaped, living her normal life, what, perhaps years have passed in the real world? You think she’d remember you still? The older she gets the more you fade.”

With a shaky breath, you say, “Have you not considered, that by killing time, you’ve only inhibited your ability to progress, to remain relevant. What you’ve done, is confined yourself to the past.” Beomgyu’s eyes dart back and forth and he screams, “Stop, stop, stop!”

A manic chuckle emits from him, “I-I-I know what you’re doing Y/n. I know your little tricky mind game!” You shake your head, “I’m not playing any games. I’m saying my thoughts on our predicament,” you smile widely, “What’s wrong in that?” You inquire, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Beomgyu yells infuriated, “No! No! No! You are not! Such insolence- I- how dare you?” It gives you a strange satisfaction to see him like this. Were you sick for enjoying tormenting his already fragile psyche like this? Maybe. Perhaps Wonderland had indeed taken its toll on you. So why were your lips itching to break into a delirious smile?

You catch a flicker of movement in the sky. The birds, you swear their wings flapped for a second. Your heart races - were you seeing things?

Beomgyu clutches his head distraught, “No, no, I killed time, time is only bound to make things worse! I’m not trapped in the past, I…I just want to preserve the moment. Don’t you get it? How don’t you get it?”

You peer at him with a grimace and he lets out an unhinged cackle dragging his hand down his face, “You’re looking at me like I’m mad? I am, I am?” He chortles to himself. “Oh…I’m a mess...”

Your eyes widen as you see the bunting move a little, the birds’ wings flap. Wait…did that mean time was passing? You glance back down at the deranged Hatter. Guilt and pleasure mix within you. His madness was the key to your escape. He had grown comfortable with his own twisted philosophy, and now that you were intentionally provoking him, provoking his conscience entirely, it seemed to mess with the loop.

With a smile, you bend down picking up the cracked pocket watch, “Why have this with you?”His eyes widen and he goes to snatch it before you place it behind your back, “For someone who doesn’t care much about time, you have something like this.”

“Don’t test me, love,” he grits out standing. You attempt to compose yourself and keep your fear in check as you inhale, “Does the truth hurt? The fact that you’ve trapped yourself in this bubble of time. Whilst everyone outside forgets about you? After I escape, don’t you want me to remember you, Beomgyu?”

Beomgyu marches forward, his hand flies to your throat as he slams you against the tree. The bark digs into your back and you grimace as his fingers dig into your neck. The broken pocket watch slips out of your fingers.

He clicks his tongue rapidly in annoyance as he snarls, “You sly vixen, you think you can just talk your way out of this? You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know anything at all! It seems you’ve truly gone bonkers!” Choked gasps and splutters leave your lips as you try to pry his hand off.

Your eyes flutter up and you can’t help but smile stupidly at the sight, the birds were moving, flapping away. This so-called punishment given by time was intrinsically linked to his mind and consciousness. No wonder he was as mad as he was.

Beomgyu’s eyes widen dumbfounded by the sight of you smiling as he chokes you out. The stagnant air seems to dissipate around him, the scent of nostalgia dissipates and he feels the brush of a hefty breeze against his skin for the first time in a long time.

Beomgyu tugs you forward, his face inches from yours as he seethes, “What? What are you grinning about?” You rasp out, “T-Time,” you cough, “is…moving.”

His hand immediately lets you go as you collapse, gasping for air. He looks up, where were the same three birds which hovered in the air? Why were the clouds moving so jaggedly, almost buffering?

Panic fills Beomgyu’s system as he stumbles back at the horrific sight. Time will always continue. After all, time makes everyone his fool. And now, the biggest fool of them all, was Beomgyu. The Mad Hatter.

A distraught and strangled laugh escapes Beomgyu’s throat as he peers at the livelier environment. Trees rustling, the sunlight glimmering. Tears drip down his face as he laughs, “I have not killed time, but time has killed me! How funny! Is that not hilarious?”

His head snaps to you as he cackles, “Laugh! Laugh, laugh, laugh it up! I’ve been the fool all along? Who was I to think I could outsmart time itself when it was in fact time who kept me trapped in my own consciousness, to be a fool who was but a mere memory!”

You gaze at the Hatter who had been shattered beyond recognition. His chronic phobia of the passage of time had seemed to overtake any remaining sense of rationale. With a cautious step back, you peer at the forest at the horizon. You just needed to slip away now…

Beomgyu beams brightly as sparkling tears run down his cheeks, “Oh, you…you, you. Never before have I seen such cunning, such a pretty face,” he coos before growling, “But twisted mind.”

Beomgyu steps forward, “How does it feel to have broken the Hatter? Huh? Huh? Not only have I been shattered once, but now twice?” He bursts out into another fit of laughter before his crazed eyes gaze lands upon you once more, “That smile on your face… you liked it. You like seeing me suffer, you’re just as depraved as we all are here in Wonderland.”

Your heart drops; no. You…,couldn’t be. Depraved? You wouldn’t go so far to be depraved- okay, perhaps you were enjoying tormenting him a little but that’s just because you were getting closer to a way out- you weren’t twisted or sadistic?

He breathlessly chuckles stepping forward, wiping away his continuous tears, “You’re singlehandedly the most twisted guest I’ve ever received.”

Fuck. You were so close. You step back timidly; you catch him looking at your feet and he runs his hands through his ebony locks, smiling widely to himself, “Oh, look at you, look. at. you.” He muses, closing his eyes as if trying calm his rage, “Get out.”

Your body stiffens at his words. Did you mishear him? “What?” You ask, quivering.

Beomgyu drags a hand down his face as he looks down, strands falling over his eyes dangerously, “Get out of my sight, before I make your pretty little head a cake topper for my next tea party.”

You take another step back, and another one. A few more. Finally, you turn around and break out into a sprint, you even glance behind you only to see him standing completely still - his chilling gaze burning into your back with a clear message:

DON’T. EVER. COME. BACK.

With that, you look ahead and run, run and run like your life depends on it toward the eerie forest on the horizon. The sun begins to set once more and the entire place seems to wane, stretch, move and distort, with a new breath of life. A delirious laugh escapes your lips as you run along the decrepit path, wind whips past your face in which you relish immensely.

The Cheshire Cat…what would you face next? Your hands itch, at the rate you were going, you feel like you could…ki-no. No. Compose yourself Y/n. You just wanted to go home. Was that…so hard? No damn cat was going to stop you.

You’d do anything.

Anything to leave. Anything.

As you disappear from his line of sight, a smile laces Beomgyu’s lips and a breathy chuckle emits from him. His knees buckle and he clutches his pounding, overwhelmed head. His brain was truly scattered, broken into mere smithereens.

If you do get past the Cheshire Cat, by which you will, he knows it. That bastard of a cat, will most definitely let you go.

Whilst he may have lost to time, there’s one ounce of peace and one absolute truth that makes him grin so hard that his cheeks hurt.

He’ll never forget you.

Ever.

And he has a feeling, most importantly, you won’t forget him either.

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writerinloves-blog · 1 year ago

Text

In the Gardens - Kit Tanthalos x Reader

Request? : Yes! I hope I've made justice to their request.

i was hoping you could write something with kit, like about her and the reader being in a secret relationship (bc of the times ofc) and queen sorsha finding out?

Word count: 5,015

It all began with jealousy.

When Jade started talking to Kit about a new friend she had made in the village, Kit couldn't admit it, but she felt a twinge of annoyance. Things took a turn for the worse when Jade started cutting short their training sessions to spend more time with this new girl. Jade was Kit's best friend, exclusively hers. Kit didn't even know this new girl, but she was convinced she must be annoying or something, although she couldn't pinpoint exactly what bothered her about her.

Kit was well aware that, as a princess, she had the power to make Jade train longer with her. However, she understood the moral implications of such an action, so she kept her feelings in check, quietly resenting this unknown girl without ever getting to know her.

Until one fateful day.

Kit found herself on the training grounds, waiting for Jade who was running late. Frustrated, Kit began practicing her moves on a wooden dummy. Lost in her training, she was jolted back to reality by a voice.

"Wow, you're really good," the voice remarked. Kit turned to see a stranger standing there, eyes filled with genuine admiration.

"Ah-ah- thank you," Kit managed to say, caught off guard. Her response elicited a warm smile from the stranger, a smile that Kit found genuinely sweet.

As Kit's mind slowly started working again, she realized she had never seen this person before. They stood there, in a silent understanding. Gathering her courage, Kit blurted out, "I'm Kit!" perhaps louder than she intended.

The stranger returned her smile, about to introduce themselves when a familiar voice interrupted them. Both Kit and the stranger turned to see Jade hurrying toward them, her face radiating excitement.

"You came!" Jade exclaimed, hugging the stranger tightly. Kit was utterly confused. "Do you guys know each other?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"Yeah, this is my new friend I was telling you about," Jade said, her smile wide, mirroring the one on the stranger's face.

Kit was most definitely not expecting that.

For two months, you attended almost every training session that Kit and Jade had. Despite Kit's initial attempts to deny it, she found herself enjoying your company, perhaps a little more than she should have. Knowing that you were observing her during training motivated her to push herself harder, and she felt a surge of pride every time you clapped for her victories over Jade.

When Jade's birthday finally arrived, the three of you had dinner in the castle, a request made by Kit. That night, at your suggestion, they all dressed semi-formally. Both Kit and Jade opted for semi-formal attire, eschewing dresses, a choice that made them burst into laughter when they saw each other

You arrived last, and upon seeing you, Kit froze in place. When you approached to greet her, after wishing Jade a happy birthday, Kit couldn't help but feel her heart racing. She was astounded by how beautiful you looked in your blue dress, adorned with ribbons in your hair. It was in that moment that Kit realized something had changed within her during this past month.

Throughout dinner, the three of you shared laughter and jokes, and every time you touched Kit's arm, she felt a jolt of electricity run through her. After the meal, you all decided to take a leisurely walk around the castle grounds to continue your conversation.

Sometime later, Ballentine approached Jade and asked for a moment, prompting Jade to bid her goodbyes and leave. This turn of events left Kit and you alone together.

"Maybe I should go too," you said in a soft tone.

"You could stay a little longer," Kit replied, her voice shy. You nodded with a sweet smile, and in that moment, as you continued your walk under the moonlit sky, Kit felt something stirring inside her, something that went beyond mere friendship.

You two fit perfectly. Eventually, you ended up in the garden, pausing to gaze at the stars. While you were awe-struck by the celestial display above, Kit's eyes were fixed solely on you. In her eyes, amidst the enchanting flowers and the moonlit night, you outshone everything else in the garden. Overwhelmed by her emotions, Kit could no longer contain her feelings.

"I think we have a problem," Kit blurted out hurriedly, causing worry to bubble inside you. "What? What is it?" you asked, concern etched on your face.

"Turns out that I don't hate you," Kit began, her words rushed. "At all... not one bit."

"I do not understand. What are you trying to say, Kit?" you replied in a hushed tone. Kit approached you, now standing directly in front of you.

"Turns out that I actually like you..." Kit confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I don't know what to do with all of this that I am feeling." With those words, she brushed her hand against yours, her touch tender. She then gently kissed your hand, leaving you both exhilarated and perplexed.

A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside you, rendering you momentarily speechless. Kit looked at you with anticipation, her brilliant blue eyes searching yours for a response. In that moment, you realized the depth of your feelings for the girl standing before you. Determination filled you, and you took a step closer, your hand caressing Kit's face. You wore a sweet smile, silently asking a question that hung between you.

Kit nodded in response, her own emotions mirrored in her eyes. You closed the gap between you, your lips meeting hers in a tender, electrifying kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away, and Kit responded by moving her hands to your face, pulling you closer. She couldn't believe what was transpiring, but in that moment, all she wanted was to feel you near.

After a few blissful seconds, you both pulled back, gasping for air, yet radiating joy. "I like you too, just in case you didn't get the memo," you teased, a playful tone in your voice.

Kit made an affirmative sound, a mix of contentment and amusement. "Good to know," she said before leaning in to kiss you once again, sealing the newfound connection between your hearts.

The next day, you didn't attend Kit and Jade's training session. However, Kit showed up wearing the ribbon that you had worn the previous night, wrapped around her wrist. Jade immediately noticed this, causing her to smile broadly.

"I thought you hated ribbons," Jade teased Kit.

Kit felt a wave of nervousness wash over her. "Yeah, I just thought this one was nice," she stammered, to which Jade playfully rolled her eyes.

"So, good to know that I'm officially the third wheel," Jade remarked, a smile on her face as she started preparing for the session.

This statement caught Kit off guard. "What? She told you?" Kit asked, excitement evident in her voice. Jade seized this moment of distraction to begin the session, leaving Kit caught off-guard.

"Of course she did," Jade replied, finishing her sentence. With one last dreamy smile, Kit started training too, the revelation of her newfound feelings adding an extra layer of motivation to her movements.

In the days that followed, a secret romance blossomed between you and Kit. It was a delicate dance of stolen glances and hidden touches, a love story meant to remain hidden from the world. Yet, the joy that radiated from both of you was undeniable.

Your clandestine meetings became precious moments, tucked away in the secluded corners of the castle gardens or in the quiet corridors of the palace. Every stolen kiss, every shared secret, felt like a treasure, something too beautiful and fragile to be exposed to the harsh light of day.

Despite the secrecy, your relationship was an anchor for both of you. In a world where duties and expectations weighed heavily on her shoulders, the love you shared became a sanctuary. Your laughter filled the empty spaces, and your whispered words of affection drowned out the noise of the world around you.

Kit was enraptured by the simple joy of stealing your ribbons whenever you wore one. To her, each ribbon became a tangible reminder of your presence, a way to feel connected even when you weren't near. When you questioned her about this habit, she looked into your eyes with sincerity.

"To feel you close when you aren't near," Kit confessed, her voice filled with vulnerability and affection. Those words hung in the air, encapsulating the depth of her feelings for you.

In the quiet nights when the moon bathed the castle grounds in its silvery glow, Kit often found herself marveling at the serendipity that had brought you into her life. She couldn't believe how fortunate she was to have you by her side, your laughter becoming the melody that filled her heart.

Six months had passed since the beginning of your relationship, a secret love that had flourished behind the castle's stone walls. One day, with Jade's assistance, you managed to sneak into the castle and found your way into Kit's room. There, in the soft glow of candlelight, you sat on her lap, your lips dancing together in sweet kisses, punctuated by soft giggles.

You peppered Kit's face with kisses, causing her to laugh joyfully. As you drew near her ear, you whispered, "I am so lucky to have you." Your words sent a shiver down Kit's spine.

"You don't even know what you do to me," Kit replied, her voice filled with longing, as she gently caressed your face.

With a swift move, Kit took hold of your waist and shifted positions so that both of you were now sitting. She leaned in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, losing herself in the sweet taste of your affection.

Amidst the stolen moments of intimacy, you paused to share some news. "I've got a job," you revealed, your words met with a kiss on your cheek from Kit.

"What?" Kit asked in confusion, her heart sinking at the thought of potentially seeing you less. "Why?" She moved back slightly, her worry apparent.

"Well, my parents thought it was time for me to get a job, but don't worry," you reassured her, gently cupping her face to plant a tender kiss on her lips. "I'll be working here, in the castle. Yes, I'll have to cook meals, but I'll see you more often," you said with a warm smile.

"Really? Why would you do that? It's very hard work. I could have gone to see you wherever you were," Kit expressed, her hand finding yours.

"I did it for us," you replied, your eyes sparkling with determination.

Kit felt like her heart might burst with emotion. In that moment, every part of her longed to tell you what she already knew. She mustered up the courage to speak but was interrupted by Jade's voice from the other side of the door.

"Time's up, lovebirds," Jade called out, breaking the spell.

You shared a laugh, then planted a soft kiss on Kit's lips. "You'll tell me later, Kit," you said as you reached for your shoes, preparing to leave.

Before you could step away, Kit gently grabbed your hand, pulling you back towards her. In the dim light of her room, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours in a lingering kiss, a silent promise of the words she couldn't quite voice yet. The moment hung between you, filled with unspoken emotions, before you finally pulled away, your heart echoing Kit's unspoken affection.

With a tender smile, you whispered, "Goodnight, Kit," before slipping out of her room, your heart brimming with the love that had grown between you both, even in the quiet secrecy of the castle's halls.

You began working at the castle, and if Kit were being honest, she truly loved all the extra time she got to spend with you. Every stolen glance during meals, every gentle touch, and every moment your hands brushed against each other only deepened her affection. Kit cherished the nights when she showed you the secret spots in the castle, relishing every single second spent in your company. In those stolen moments, amidst the whispers of ancient stones, Kit found a happiness that felt like a treasure, one she wanted to hold onto for a lifetime.

This particular day, Kit woke up with an unusual sense of excitement. She and you had planned a little date night in the castle gardens, and Kit was determined to make everything perfect. She had even made arrangements to ask Jade for help in gathering candles and preparing food for the evening.

As Kit got ready for the day, her excitement grew. Breakfast time was always a bittersweet moment for her, as it was when you served her breakfast. Kit hated the fact that you needed to do that, but at the same time, she cherished the opportunity to brush her hand against yours and share secret smiles, hidden from her mother's watchful eyes.

Entering the breakfast room, Kit greeted her brother and her mother, but her attention was entirely consumed by thoughts of you. She couldn't help but admire how your hair looked that day, how the ribbon you wore matched the one she had chosen for her wrist. Every detail of your appearance seemed to captivate her, and she eagerly anticipated the moments they would share after breakfast.

"Kit! Were you listening to me?" her mother's voice broke through her thoughts.

"No, sorry, Mother," Kit replied, her gaze briefly shifting away from you. You returned from the kitchen with a fresh tray of food, wearing a small, warm smile that momentarily eased Kit's unease.

"I wanted to talk to you about something important," her mother continued.

Kit grabbed a muffin, taking a bite while trying to maintain her composure. "Okay, what is it?" she asked, noticing you making your way back to the kitchen with the tray.

"You are to be engaged to marry Prince Graydon of Galladoorn..." The sound of a tray clattering against the floor cut off the queen's words.

"Oh! I am so sorry, Your Majesty," you stammered, quickly kneeling down to clean the mess. Kit wished she could stand up and assist you, but she felt rooted to her seat, her breath catching in her throat. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't marry anyone else, especially when the person she truly wanted to be with was you. She turned her head to look at you and saw a tear streaming down your cheek.

Once you had retreated to the kitchen, Kit found her voice. "What? Mother, no. Please, I beg you!" she pleaded, desperation lacing her words.

"It is your duty to your kingdom, Kit!" her mother declared. "The meeting to sign the alliance is next week, and by then, I expect a change of attitude," she finished, rising from the table and leaving only Kit and her brother. Airk hurriedly approached Kit and embraced her tightly. In that moment, Kit finally allowed herself to cry. Her whole world seemed to be crumbling into pieces, and the weight of her responsibilities bore down on her shoulders like a crushing burden. The prospect of a future without you felt unbearable, and Kit clung to her brother, seeking solace in his comforting embrace as she wept for the love she feared she might lose.

The rest of the day proved to be a torturous ordeal for Kit. She wandered aimlessly through the castle, desperately searching for you. She even ventured into the kitchens, hoping to find a trace of your presence. Instead, a blonde girl informed her that she hadn't seen you since breakfast. Disappointed and increasingly worried, Kit's optimism began to wane. Even though she hadn't been able to plan the date the way she had envisioned, a small glimmer of hope persisted. Perhaps you would still show up.

As the hours passed, that hope gradually ebbed away, replaced by a sinking feeling in Kit's chest. The first hour of waiting felt like an eternity, but as the second hour ticked by, her optimism turned into a painful realization. Yet, Kit made the decision to stay, clinging to the possibility that you might still come.

She waited in the gardens, her heart heavy with anticipation. The night passed, and Kit remained there, alone and deserted. You never appeared. Deep down, she understood why you hadn't come, yet that understanding did little to ease the ache in her breaking heart. The night seemed endless, each passing moment a testament to the love that had been left unfulfilled, leaving Kit alone in the shadows of the garden, shattered and inconsolable.

For three agonizing days, Kit felt as if she couldn't breathe. The absence of your presence was like a suffocating weight on her chest, a relentless reminder of the love that had slipped through her fingers. Desperation gripped her heart, and she knew she had to do something about it.

"Jade, please, I need to talk to her, please," Kit pleaded, her eyes filled with raw emotion as she looked at her friend. They stood together in the training grounds, the weight of Kit's desperation heavy in the air.

"Kit, I know you do, trust me, I've tried," Jade replied, her voice filled with honesty and concern. "But she really doesn't want to see you right now."

Tears threatened to spill from Kit's eyes, her heart breaking a little more with each passing moment. "Please, I just want to tell her that I love her. She needs to know that I love her," Kit said, her voice trembling with the intensity of her feelings. She managed to contain her tears, but the pain in her eyes was unmistakable.

Jade fell into a thoughtful silence for a minute, her eyes searching Kit's face. "Go to the gardens tonight. I'll make up some excuse to get her there," Jade finally said, her voice softening with understanding.

Gratitude surged through Kit, and without a second thought, she enveloped Jade in a tight hug, a heartfelt thank you escaping her lips. There was a glimmer of hope in Kit's eyes, a fragile optimism that maybe, just maybe, she would have a chance to mend the shattered pieces of her heart.

That night, you arrived at the gardens, hoping to see Jade. She had promised to take you horseback riding, knowing that your days were occupied with work, leaving you with no time during the day for such leisure. As you spotted a figure in the garden, you called out, "Jade!" Your voice carried happiness, but as the figure turned around, you realized it wasn't her. Disappointment flooded your expression, and you turned away, ready to retreat.

"Please, wait!" Kit ran toward you, her voice carrying a tone of desperation. She grabbed your hand, her touch pleading with you to stay. "Please," she repeated, her eyes filled with an intensity that matched your own conflicting emotions.

Reluctantly, you turned around to face her. Kit looked exhausted, dark circles under her once bright eyes indicating the toll these past few days had taken on her. Yet, even in her weary state, you found her breathtaking. She reached out, gently touching your cheek, and you melted under her tender caress.

"We've got nothing to talk about, Kit," you said, your voice small, trying to push her away.

"Of course we do," she insisted, her touch soft and persuasive, inching closer to you.

"No, we don't," you replied, even as every fiber of your being yearned to kiss her, to hold her close and never let go.

"Let's just... talk," Kit suggested, moving closer, her determination etched on her face.

"Kit, you're getting married. What we had... it can't be anymore," you said, tears now freely streaming down your face.

"Don't, don't say that, please. We... we could find a way around it," Kit pleaded, her eyes searching yours for a glimmer of hope.

"We can't, Kit. It's your duty, and I understand. I knew what I was getting myself into," you whispered, pressing your forehead against hers. "And I still jumped headfirst into this... and I would do it a million times, just to have the time that we had."

It sounded like a goodbye, and Kit hated it. She knew what she wanted to say, but how could she, when it wouldn't change a thing? So, she did the only thing she could. She kissed you, savoring the bittersweet taste of your tears mingled with her own. In that moment, she tried to memorize every detail, every feeling, knowing it might be the last time.

The kiss broke, and you held each other, clinging to one another as if afraid the other might disappear. The moment was both heartbreaking and beautiful, a collision of love and loss. Kit hated the instant you let go of the hug.

"Goodbye, Kit," you said, your voice heavy with finality, and as you started to walk away, Kit didn't want to let go of your hand. But she had to. So, she watched you go, standing there in the darkness of the garden, her heart shattered and tears streaming down her face, aching for the love she was about to lose.

On her way back to her chambers, Kit couldn't stop crying. All she wanted was to lie in bed and cry until she had no tears left. However, her misery was interrupted by a stern voice slicing through the darkness.

"So, she's the reason you don't want to comply with your duties?" Kit turned around to see her mother, Queen Sorsha, staring at her with a mix of disappointment and concern etched on her face.

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom," Kit replied, her voice cracking from the weight of her emotions.

But her mother wasn't ready to let it go. She grabbed Kit's wrist firmly, demanding an explanation. "No, we are going to talk about it now," she insisted, her tone firm and unyielding.

"Fine!" Kit answered, her voice sharp with frustration.

"Is she really the reason? This... maid?" Sorsha asked, her tone dismissive and condescending.

"Don't! Don't call her that, and don't look down on her!" Kit retorted, her voice laced with determination and protectiveness.

"That's what she is, Kit. A maid. You, on the other hand, are a princess. You have duties," Queen Sorsha said, her words cutting through the air like ice.

"Don't talk about her like that. She took the job for me!" Kit said, her voice rising with a fierce intensity.

"What do you mean by that?" Sorsha inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"She took the job as a kitchen maid to be closer to me," Kit confessed, her voice almost a whisper, laden with vulnerability and despair.

Sorsha paused, her eyes studying her daughter, taking in the signs of her heartache. "How long has this been going on?" she asked, her tone softening, sensing the depth of Kit's feelings.

Kit turned around to face her mother, her eyes swollen from crying. "For over seven months," she began, her voice breaking. "But you don't have to worry about it anymore. As of tonight, there's nothing left for you to worry about," she added, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Sorsha stood there, silently watching her daughter break down. A mixture of emotions crossed her face, a realization dawning upon her. "Does this girl really mean so much to you?" she asked cautiously, moving closer to Kit.

"I love her, Mom," Kit said, her voice filled with raw emotion, her love pouring out like a waterfall breaking free from its dam. "I love her so much that every day, when I wake up, all I want to do is see her, hold her, look into those beautiful eyes, and take her to the gardens to hear her talk about her favorite flowers. I want to cherish every moment with her. I was so lucky," Kit finished, her voice barely a whisper, as she sank to the ground, crumbling under the weight of her heartbreak, tears flowing quietly once again.

Sorsha looked at her daughter, her heart breaking for the pain she saw in Kit's eyes. Deciding to approach her differently, Sorsha knelt down, attempting to reach for Kit's hand “Kit, why didn’t you tell me?” but before she could touch her, Kit moved abruptly.

"When, Mom?" Kit's voice cracked as she screamed, her pain and anger bursting forth. "And even if I did tell you, you probably would have banished her to another realm, taking her away from me! And yet, you managed to rip her away from me!" Kit's voice wavered, her eyes filled with a mix of anguish and fury as she stood up, her body trembling. With that, she turned away, heading toward her chambers, leaving Sorsha standing there, alone.

As Sorsha stood in the corridor, she felt a profound sense of loss and regret. She realized she had never given her daughter the opportunity to confide in her, to trust her. Her intentions had always been to protect Kit, but now, she had lost that trust, and her daughter's happiness had been shattered before her eyes. Witnessing her brave, beautiful daughter break down made Sorsha vow to herself that she would do anything in her power to prevent that pain from ever consuming Kit again.

She didn't even know what Airk might be hiding from her. It was time to rearrange things, to reevaluate her decisions and actions. Kit's happiness was paramount, and Sorsha was determined to make amends. It was time to change the course of their lives.

Kit dreaded waking up the next day, fully aware that everything with you was over. So she dismissed all the ladies' maids, seeking a moment of solitude. However, after a while, Kit heard her chamber door creak open again. Prepared to send the intruder away, she turned around and found her mother standing there.

"Wake up, Kit. You have a busy day ahead of you," Sorsha said with determination.

"Really? Why? Is my wedding today, and you didn't tell me?" Kit retorted sarcastically, although she complied and rose from her bed.

Her mother, seemingly unfazed by Kit's tone, observed her daughter with a knowing look. This made Kit uneasy.

"I am not getting married today, am I?" Kit asked cautiously

"No, you're not. You're going to train with the knights of Galladoorn," Sorsha informed her.

"What?" Kit asked, bewildered.

"Next month, you are set to begin your training with the knights. It will mark the first time a princess joins their ranks," Sorsha finished.

"Great, now I won't even be able to see her. I just know it!" Kit exclaimed, frustration growing within her. But Sorsha remained composed.

"With this new alliance, your engagement with Prince Graydon won't be necessary," Sorsha said, shocking Kit, who turned around to stare at her mother in disbelief.

"What? What are you trying to say, Mom?" Kit's voice quivered with hope.

"What I'm trying to say, Kit, is that you should get ready to go and tell that sweet girl, the girl who has captured my daughter's heart, that everything will be okay," Sorsha began walking toward Kit, who stood frozen in place. She reached out and gently took her daughter's hands, this time not facing rejection. "Everything will be okay because your mother loves you, Kit. And your mother is also the Queen. It might take time, but you go and tell that girl that you love her, and that I'm going to fight for you two," Sorsha concluded, and she felt Kit's arms enveloping her. It was a hug she hadn't received since Kit was a little girl.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Mom!" Kit said, practically running toward the door.

Everyone in the castle was surprised to see the princess running with a broad smile on her face, even giggling. Their shock intensified when she burst into the kitchens. But when Kit entered, she couldn't find you anywhere.

"She was sent to pick some flowers, at your mother's request," the blonde girl from last time informed her. The gardens. Of course, her mother would have sent her there.

Hope bubbled up inside her as she ran, and once she reached the gardens and saw you there, picking flowers, it felt as if she was looking at you for the first time. This time, she knew that nothing would ever come between you.

"I love you!" Kit screamed, startling you, your confusion evident.

"I don't understand, Kit," you said, your confusion clear.

"I've loved you for quite some time, and I am not losing you," she said, walking toward you. "I love you," she repeated, quieter this time.

"But you're supposed to be engaged?" you said, caution in your eyes.

"I am not engaged, and I won't be, unless it's with you," Kit said, reaching for your hand. She placed a kiss on it, sealing her promise.

"That's impossible, Kit," you said, your eyes still filled with caution.

"Not anymore. My mother is going to fight for us, for this... so if you would have me, I am all yours, and every beat of my heart belongs to you," Kit declared, determination shining in her eyes. You just kissed her; you knew you had kissed her yesterday, but that kiss had felt like a goodbye, while this kiss was a promise.

"I love you too, Kit, more than anything in this world," you said, and then you joined your lips once again.

You both stayed there, kissing in the gardens for some time, only breaking it to repeat the words "I love you." A new beginning; that's what this meant. Not just for the two of you, but for the whole realm. Everything was about to change, and you two were at the heart of it. Regardless, you had each other, and that was all you needed.

#kit tanthalos #kit tanthalos fanfiction #ruby cruz fanfic #kit tanthalos x reader #kit tanthalos x jade claymore #kit thantalos x reader #hazel callahan #ruby cruz

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baby-tini · 4 months ago

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do you have a part 2 of where Mikey is cheating?

I do now ❤️

TW- Yandere-ish behaviour, a bit of victim blaming, implied murder, slightly detailed scene of murder, violent behaviour, implication of past cheating.

Mikey was a mess ever since you left, he knows he brought it on himself by cheating, but he was still angry. He missed you deeply, thought about you every night and everyday, you were his first thought when he woke up, and his first thought when he went to bed. You were- are his everything, in his head, you're still his, and nothing is ever gonna change that- nothing. You guys are just... on a little break, that's all. You didn't actually wanna leave, you didn't actually mean it when you said, you never wanted too see him again... right? You couldn't possibly mean that, after all you guys have been through together? You can't be serious, there's no way. So he let you have your little break, even if your absence clawed at him every minute of everyday, but when you didn't... it all kinda went down hill from there, even more so then normal.

It took awhile for him too track you down, longer then he was comfortable with or even, willing too admit. You're everything to him, the reason he even still gets up in the mornings, so, when you left his life,it affected him more then everything else ever has. He was so irritated, taking it out on traitors, torching them slowly as he deflected his emotional pain into physical on the people who have done him wrong. When he finally found you though, or, rather his men found you, his heart started too hurt. He's never been so happy in his life, having heard the news of your exact whereabouts, it pleased him greatly, his eyes even have a little bit of life back in them. He found you living in a tiny little apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo, it was quiet- peaceful even, something his lifestyle greatly lacked.

He contemplated whether or not too just knock on the door... or just break in. But, he ultimately decided too just knock for now and if that didn't work for him, he'd have no problem forcing his way in. You were glowing when you opened that door, looking content- happy even, but the way your smile dropped and the look of delight turned to dread, it hurt, it hurt him so fucking much to the point he almost toppled over. But he held it together, his eyes almost pleading as he whispered your name, it almost sounding foreign with how long it's lacked coming from his lips. But it felt re-freshing on his tongue, like a shred of hope as you stepped aside and let him in. Although hesitant, as your steps lacked genuine want, looking more forced, knowing who exactly this man was and what he was capable of.

It was quiet for a while, as you both sat on your couch, the silence feeling awkward and heavy as you tried your best too avoid eye contact with him. The action feeling too intimate knowing what he did and the way you left, it might've not been the best decision or the best way too leave, but you didn't really have any other option, knowing it would, most likely, start a big fight that you really didn't feel like dealing with at the time. Or the worse option, he didn't care at all and would just let you leave, that would've hurt a lot more then just leaving it up in the air, but with him being here, you were betting on the former being the more obvious situation if you were too have confront him and try too leave at the time, also taking into account that Mikey isn't the most stable, and that would've most likely pushed him off the deep end and would've led to worse consequences for you then just being homeless for a while before you were able too get a shitty job as a waitress and live in a tiny apartment.

"I'm... sorry for what I did.." were the first words he chose too spoke, the first words you've heard from him in months. You knew he was sorry, his presence at the apartment told you all you needed too know, but you also knew that you didn't have too forgive him for what he did to you, you put up with a lot of his bullshit, let him get in your face and call you ugly names or let him get violent with men when they, very stupidly, thought it would be okay too eye-fuck their bosses girl. Watched him beat a man within an inch of his life as soon as his disgusting hands layed a slap to your ass, with a nasty smirk, you've never seen Mikey move so fast in your life, a kick to the man stomach as he beat him bloody, black and blue. Having replayed the mans screams in your head as begged and pleaded with Mikey too not kill him, that he was sorry, you know the man wasn't sorry for what he had done, only sorry that the consequences were so dire for him. That was the first and only time you've watched Mikey kill a man, he kept you locked away for weeks- months after that... incident.

You decided too keep quiet, which was a big mistake on your part cause it only made Mikey inch closer to you on the already small couch. His hands grabbing at your shaky ones, pulling them up to his lips as he left the softest kisses on the backs of them with the whisper of, "let me make it up to you, please?" You wanted him too, you really did, you missed when he was soft with you, although very rarely, he still was willing too show vulnerability. Your head was already clouded not having fully processed the whole infidelity on his part, but you did miss him and with his appearance at your apartment causing a wave of emotion too bubble in your chest and tear ducts, you did, you let him take care of you again. Just hoping and praying that you wouldn't regret everything when your head was a little bit clearer and your arms weren't wanting too constantly reach out and hug him, when your heart wasn't constantly begging you too let him touch you again, too take you again and have you so vulnerable under him as he whispered, hopefully, long-lasting promises in your ear.

So you did, you let him lay your back on that rough, uncomfortable couch as he left kisses on your face, leading down your neck and turning into love marks. Leaving spit-covered kisses down your chest as he hiked your leg over his waist, kissing underneath your ear as he whispered just how sorry he was to you, promising he'd never he look at another woman again, that what he did was a one-time stupid mistake. Whispering about, how it took him losing you too realise just how perfect you were, how rare you were too continuously stay by his side, too pledge your loyalty to such a bad man, such as his self- a monster. To a man who has taken more then he has ever given in his entire life, he knows that you're special, special to him, but just special in general. Letting him have- letting him take you in a place you now called home, knowing what he's done, he was selfish, he knows that, but he's done with it, now that he has you back in his arms, he's never letting you go again. Over his dead body- or, more like the dead body of the woman he had sex with, that led you both to this moment, no more.

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pianocat939 · 1 year ago

Text

Ah yes- the one guy everyone screams over-

Tw: controlling behaviour, implications of isolation, you get fucking restricted to a room-, helicopter dad (platonic part), kidnapping, violence

Yandere Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

Type: Controlling + Possessive

Romantic

He is definitely one who likes to control, I mean- just all the scenes of him were just him wanting to contain Miles and keep him from doing whatever he wished. Possessive? I headcanon it also goes into his want to control and his alternate being lost.

When you first meet him, I'm sure it's going to be negative or he just doesn't trust you at all. But, over time as you interact more negatively or positively, some character trait you have interested him or perhaps brings a memory he was once fond of. Then, he tries to talk to you more and slowly brings you to trust him.

He doesn't like taking the friend stage, because I just think he doesn't seem the type to ultimately trust people and call them friends. So after a few months, he'll straight up confess his romantic feelings to you. If you agree, the less severe his aggression and strictness will be. But here's the thing, he won't take no for an answer. So he'll just haul you over his shoulder and take you away to a secluded space where he can trap you- and don't bother escaping.

Depending on your response his actions and demeanour as a romantic partner will differ. If you don't actively purposefully disobey or disregard him he'll let you talk to others and go to places on your own. But he expects you to return to him at certain points of the day.

If you're not compliant with him he'll lock your up in a certain area and you are expected to obey the rules he has set unless you want more restrictions.

He's not super affectionate, but in private times and if he trusts you enough he'll give you some physical affection (because istg he is definitely some sappy word guy).

He IS violent when it comes to others. If they step outside their boundaries he is just a monster. So don't try to let other people get killed ok?

Honestly, he's just a troubled man who needs some support in his life.

"No one has been acting too close to you today, right? Because I'm definitely not in the mood to go scuff up another person today."

Platonic

He's honestly dad from there- like he constantly asks if you've taken the necessary things needed for a healthy life (food, liquid, vitamins, etc.) He'll be very helicopter dad definitely, ensuring you're "secure". If you're another spider, he might take the time to train you a little.

Depending on your response his actions and demeanour as a friend/father figure will differ. If you don't actively purposefully disobey or disregard him he'll let you talk to others and go to places on your own. But he expects you to return to him at certain points of the day.

If you're not compliant with him he'll lock your up in a certain area and you are expected to obey the rules he has set unless you want more restrictions.

He's not very affectionate, but he does show some love with the occasional head pat or gifting you stuff you want/like. He IS violent when it comes to others. If they step outside their boundaries he is just a monster. So don't try to let other people get killed ok?

Honestly, he's just a troubled man who needs some support in his life.

"What do you mean you've only drunk a litre of water today?! You need to drink more, so don't make me force it down your throat."

——————————————————

Yeah so here's some content for everybody's favourite-

I'm sorry but I cannot take him seriously at all- like I was almost laughing at him when I watched the movie-

My sleep schedule is really weird so apologies for uploading at an odd time today

- Celina

#spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #yandere spiderman

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granolawriting · 1 year ago

Text

Within the confines of a ship ˚✧

pairing: Jedi!reader x Jedi Anakin

Summary: Spending night after night having sexual tension with a certian Jedi on a mission surrounded by your peers in a ship comes to a head when one day he stops trying to be discrete about what he wants.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, minor exhibitionism, dom!Anakin, tension, Anakins a tease, breif aftercare, you guys stop caring about making no noise like halfway through, p in v unprotected, he cums in you, I don't think I actually wrote anything that explicitly makes the reader female, Anakin is glaringly cocky

word count: 2.6k

masterlist

A/N: so sorry this took so long to put out!!! I just moved to a new state :)! I hope u enjoy the second installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 10th ;). Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

The silent hum of a ship deeply comfortable in hyperspace and the muffled talk of fellow Jedi upon the ship fills your mind as you try to ensure that's all that enters it. Subconsciously you hone in on voices, unable to discern conversation but by mere tone and inflection alone could you spot him if he was there.

…

There he is.

You felt the sound of his voice sink deep within your stomach, igniting your body ablaze. Even the mere sense of him in distance to you made you grow weak, feeling as a pool builds through slick underwear at how your mind allows it to wander. Anakin had never been explicitly sexual with you, never did his hands trail down the waistband of pants or under hooked lines of bras, never did his lips even touch yours or the flush of bodies against one another. You were completely left to your imagination, though not without the help of Anakin.

You and him have always had a history, a tension of sorts. Never properly actualized with action but words were more than enough. The way his eyes devoured you when you walked past, soft words exchanged in private halls or even implicit praise after simulated battles between you and him.

“Ooh, good girl. Seems like someones been practicing.”

Small things. Though as he strung you along this road of implication and suggestion your mind was allowed to run wild with what else may lie within his own mind. The reactions to the things you’ve said in kind, and how if they were anything like how you responded-- with hands sinking to the ooze between your legs the moment you were home, you were more than certain that it couldn't last like this forever. What you would do more than anything to please him, hear how he moans, the way he’d praise you. The feeling of him inside of you, what did he even look like?

It didn't help that you two were constantly surrounded by one another in hidden corners of a ship, it wasn't cramped but it was definitely rendering you on edge as every corner you turned had a much higher potential of holding anakin than it usually would. Though, with that, the tension only grew stronger. Seeing him fresh out of showers with only cloth wrapping his lower half, catching staring eyes from across dining room counters and most of all, the words exchanged in the few moments left alone with one another in the confines of the ship.

“Where are you off too darling?

“To my room, didn't think anyone else was awake. I was just going to head to bed.”

You remember how close his face would inch towards yours, the soft clank of a heel that indicated one more step closer to yours. You remember the sly look on his face, a half cocked brow and egotistical smile, arms crossed and strands of hair littering his face.

“I don't think anyone else here is awake either. Well, I'm glad I caught you before then.”

The way he looked you up and down, subtle gnawing on his lip as he drank you in. the warm tug that drew your lips to his.

“Why's that? Did you need something?”

“Well I could tell you quite a few things I need from you.”

You also remembered the hissing of a door behind you as it indicated its opening. The feeling of the flutter in your heart quickly dies as dread follows in the wake of something interrupting such a moment. To turn behind you you greet a jedi that you barely remember the name of. And with that does Anakin take off once more through the same door-- eyes locked on you and a smile that feels as though it was coated with lust as his mind was a secret to you but his body told a similar story. Every part of it.

Lifting yourself off the bed you trail slow feet towards your door, an entrance to the room where anakin shared. Unsure of what you were meaning to do when you got to him, all you knew is that you needed to see him. Talk to him. Something.

Walking out into the common area you watch his eyes on you once more, growing from notice to intrigue as you grow closer to him. Those around him stop conversation briefly, tuned in also to what means you had to be out there.

“Hey Ani, do you think I could talk to you for a second?”

“Oh yeah, what's up?”

“Um,

Pausing for a second you don't know what to say. Everyone's eyes lay on you as they dissect your motives, morbidly curious about what you’re to say to him.

“Alone, please? You can just come into my room.”

A look on Anakin's face that was initially worry quickly molded into something much more lustful, the cocky grin coated his face once more and a hood to his eyes that insinuated that his mind was someplace much different than the rest of the people in the room regarding what you were implying. You didn't even know what you were implying. All you wanted was to go out there and see him, watch the way he moved and allow yourself to sink deep within his eyes and embrace the enchantment you held for his every feature. The desire you had for every inch upon his body.

“Say no more.”

A smirk curved on the right side of his cheek as he lifted himself up from his seat. Watching as his fingers comb through long hair that pushed it back for just a moment before laying perfectly upon his face, sculpting his face did slight waves along its side make way for a weakening gaze to fall upon you that made you feel as though your knees were to give out.

The short walk to your cabin felt like miles as every step that loomed behind you was an aura of uncertainty and tension that built up with every foot you moved closer behind that door.

The sound of the doors open and subsequent closing made your heart well up in anticipation, fear almost. You didn't know what to do, what to say. You had nothing to talk to him about other than your insatiable lust for him, and that wasn't quite on the table to casually discuss. Though as you look for the words to speak he says them for you.

“And what exactly did you need to talk to me about in silence, hm?”

He taunts you, it's clear in dark tone and greedy eyes that he knows precisely what is so hard to get out.

“Oh well I, I don't quite know how to say it.”

“Oh come on, use your words.”

“I'm trying it's just that I-”

“Spit it out baby I don't have all day.”

Banter back and forth as he capitalizes on your meekness comes to a head, and with the inability to put words into sentences at the face of him towering over you with a taunting glance you lean in for a kiss.

Anakin, caught by surprise, has eyes wide open, but after a moment passes a smile can be felt to grow wide on his lips as he deepens the kiss. Arms snake around your waist as he yanks you closer, both bodies flush against one another as your back curves slightly at the tug of his arms on the small of your back.

“Good girl, I wonder how long it’d take you.”

He lets up for breath and whispers in your ear as he moves a hand to your head, stroking your hair as your senses are overtaken by the words pouring into your ear. He sounded greedy, cocky. He had been toying with you, seeing how long it took until you broke. He loved watching you writhe under him, hums escaped your lips at the mere vibration of his voice against your body, the touch of his lips against yours.

You feel his knees bend slightly as his hands make swift moves to the back of your thighs, lifting you up does he return his lips to yours. Feeling him grunt inside your mouth as he walks you over to the bed, interlocking your legs around his as he tosses you on unmade sheets. Crawling on top of you does he deepen the kiss evermore, sticking his tongue into the back of your throat do you feel a growing bulge within his pants. Laid directly on top of you did you feel it grow mere inches above your heat, desperately you find yourself unconsciously grinding on it to feel it even more. He's big, even through loose pants does he leave no room for imagination as it presses up against you. Feeling it twitch through thin layers of cloth.

“Fuck-- ngh. Wasting no time hm?”

His hands caged you in at either side, he let up from your kiss to focus on the feeling you provided him below his waist. You felt as his hips started to follow rhythm with your waist, inching lower down your body so his bulge laid directly atop your heat.

Through desperate buckling of hips you speed up pace, feeling him right on top of you as the only thing separating him from you being a few pieces of cloth. Biting back your lip do you desperately try to hold back the moans that scratch at your throat at the feeling of him rubbing on you.

A hand falls on your mouth the moment you let one slip.

“Don't make a fucking sound. I know how much you love my cock baby, but we’ve got to stay quiet hm? Think you can do that for me?”

You nod your head in agreement. He removes his hand and fixes his rhythm atop you once more.

“Fuck it. I need to be inside of you.”

Legs straddle your lower half as his body folds to take off your pants. Cool air hits the exposed wetness of underwear as you feel a finger drag along its center.

“All of this for me baby?”

He teases your clit with his index, moving it in slow circles as he trails up and down your folds.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

Taking his own pants off does he leave no underwear on himself, revealing his cock that stood mere inches from your entrance.

Fuck he’s huge.

Leaning on you once more does he flush exposed cock along the slick coating your underwear. Kissing you slowly as he moves his hips up and down your heat.

“Mmhg, god, anakin please”

“Please what? Come on, speak up baby.”

“Please, please fuck me. I need to feel you I can't stand it anymore.”

“I love hearing you beg for me.”

He snakes a hand down to your underwear, pulling it to the side as he coats his cock with your juices. It takes everything in you not to whine out his name as he slowly teased you, feeling how hard his cock was against you moments before he finally put it in.

As he waits at your entrance for a moment, you feel him slowly sink into you as muted groans escape bitten lip.

“God you’re so tight.”

His head bucks up as he inches deeper in you, exposing a neck with small beads of sweat and defined jaw as his face looks up at the ceiling.

As his body grows flush against yours, you feel more full than you have in your whole life. No finger could ever suffice the sheer size of him, all the times you’d imagined him inside of you with even 3 of your own deep within you could never amount to how it felt now. The curve of his cock hitting the entrance to your womb, your entire body engulfed in flames at the feeling of him merely being warmed inside of you.

With steady motion he began moving in and out of you, your hands grip the sheets of your mattress at the mere feeling of him pumping in and out of you, legs instinctively shutting together at the feeling. Though with stern hands does he push you back upon again;

“Open your legs for me, baby. I wanna see you.”

And you obliged, heavy calloused hands grip on your thighs as he gets steady motion inside of you. Labored breaths as his brows contort in pleasure upon finally feeling inside of you.

“You don't know how long I've wanted this baby. To finally fuck you like you deserve, I could have never imagined how tight you would be imagining you as my fist every night.”

your head turns into the sheets of your bed as he begins to pump into you harder-- your body overtaken by white hot pleasure that sank deep into your stomach as the only thing you could think of is how your body memorized his cock. The feeling of every vein and every inch, the way it curved into you and the constant push on the perfect spot that made you feel like you were going insane.

“Huhh, Anakin please don't stop. Please, please”

You begin to beg in a hushed voice as every word you spoke was laced with whines and moans.

“Oh what? Are you going to cum baby?”

You respond in a hummed moan that gives him all the information he needs. His hand trails to your clit as he begins to play with it as he thrusts into you. Picking up the pace of not only his hips but his fingers as they both make you go dumb with pleasure.

“Come on, cum on my fucking cock. Get even tighter for me baby I know you can do it. I want to feel your legs fucking shake for me, feel you convulse on my cock.”

You feel it well up inside of you as you boil over, and only a few more seconds after his demands were you plunged into a frenzy of movement under him. His arms grip your legs together as he pumps into you through your orgasm, never stopping for a moment as he rides it out using you even after you’ve finished.

“God-- anakin I cant. I cant please,”

“Come on, I know you can take it. Be a good girl will you?”

You lay flat against the bed as he uses you, fucking into you as though you were just a toy. But as your orgasm finished his was soon to build up. His thrusts becoming irregular and desperate, sweat collected on the ends of his hair as it fell into his face.

“Say my name.”

“A..Anakin”

“Say my fucking name.”

“Anakin!”

You yelp his name as he slams into you, feeling him pour into you as he dumps every last drop of himself inside of you. You feel him twitch inside of you as his cum seeps out of open edges of your insides as he stays flush to you through his orgasm. Legs slightly twitch as he seems hard to stand, and slowly he pulls himself out of you to leave only a pool of white leaking out of you in its wake.

“Let me get you cleaned up. Stay right there.”

He commands you as he walks into your bathroom a few feet away, gathering a towel to wipe along your heat and anywhere that has substances that can't quite stay there. Though through labored breath he continues;

“I think we’re going to have to do that more often, baby.”

#star wars #anakin skywalker #fanfiction #fanfic #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #sw anakin #jedi anakin #star wars fanfiction #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin x you

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musickgeek · 10 months ago

Text

Trust [Angel Dust x Reader]

Warning: This chapter is a bit heavy. Implications of sex/sexual assault. If Ep4 is rough for you, this chapter would be too. About 2k words

Everyone in Hell knows who Angel Dust is. Famous porn star, stripper, partier. An overlord's pet. Many thought his life to be exciting, or maybe fun. I thought it was sad. I know that life doesn't exude happiness. So when I saw him in the street, I couldn't help but approach. He quickly eyes me up in down, taking in my somewhat timid stance. He smiles, and immediately goes in for the kill.

"Hey gorgeous, can I help you?" He gets close, sliding one of his hands up my arm, one playing with my hair. "Oh...no thank you..." I lift his hand by his finger and give it back to him. "Oh come on, baby cakes, no need to be shy." He insists. "I'm not interested in that, I just wanted to ask...are you okay? Do you need...a hug?" My voice becomes less sure by the second. He immediately scrunches up his face. "What? What kind of weird kink is that?" I can't help but laugh. "Why are you kink shaming? Down here? No, that's not my kink." He crosses his arms. "Then what? You think I need your pity?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I think you need a little care is all." He just stares at me like I grew three more heads. "You don't have to say anything, I just thought I'd ask, see if you just wanted to talk to someone." I tell him. He looks over me again, much more skeptically this time. "Not to be as forward as you, but what did you do to end up down here? You seem a little too, uhh...soft...to be hanging around here." I smile sadly. "Up there, I was exactly what you are down here." He frowns at the weight in my words. "I hope you have a good day, Angel." I say meaningfully, walking away before he can respond.

~~~~~

The next time I run into Angel is a complete accident. I'm not paying attention to what's in front of me, and I barrel into someone. "Ah shit, what's your prob- oh... it's you." He recognizes. "Yeah, sorry. I was lost in thought. But how are you? How's it going?" I ask politely. He scoffs. "Small talk don't pay the bills." He mutters to himself. "It could."

"I-What? Gonna pay me to talk you? How sad are you?" He deflects, obviously flustered that I'd heard him. "I'd pay if it meant you were safe for a little while." I elaborate. He looks like he's going to make a snarky remark, but stops himself. He sighs, and sits on the curb. I take the place next to him. "How much would you have given to get that offer?" He asks. "Everything." I admit. "I'm sure you can handle yourself, you have to to survive this life, but doesn't mean a break can't help." He shrugs. "You talk like you stopped doing all this."

"... No, I didn't. It's just not so...aggressive? I just don't know anything different. I think I've been getting better. I don't seek it out anymore. I just...don't turn it down. Well except alcohol, but everyone's gotta have a vice right?" He smiles, understanding in his eyes. "You're not like most people are you, sweet cheeks?" He asks. "No. But neither are you. I mean we're pretty similar aren't we? I also would have thought I was a freak." He frowns. "At least your didn't sell your soul for this shit."

"Not down here, no. But I still sold my life away." I shake my head. "You're a good guy, Angel. I hope you find the way out. I'm certain there is one." I get up to go, but he grabs my wrist. We both look at his hand like we're surprised it's there. He blushes a little before letting go. "Sorry, I just-uh, I'd like to see you more."

"I'm good company, huh?" He rolls his eyes, but smiles. He hands me his phone, and I put my contact in. He stands, and wraps four long arms around me. "You were right. I did need a hug." I hug him back, needing it as much as him.

~~~~~

We were fast friends, and didn't wait long to admit we wanted more. On the first date, Angel wanted to come home with me. I told him I was tired. On the second date, I was too busy. Months went by without any action. I didn't want him to think that's all I wanted from him. I wanted him, and myself, to build a relationship built on comfort, trust, and innocence. Not to mention how nervous I am to be that close someone. I could tell he was getting frustrated, and not just sexually. He was a lot more willing to share intimate information then I was. He told me about Valentino, about his time alive, and readily shared his problems. I always answered his questions as vaguely as possible. I'm not used to someone wanting to know, nor am I used to sharing in general. I've always lived with my cards close to my chest. While he had friends that helped break those walls down a bit, I did not.

One night I was waiting at the bar of the hotel for Angel to get home. Valentino had him late. That moth fucker makes me so mad, I could kill him. He'd deserve it for everything he's done. I'm broken out of my murder plans by Husk's voice. "So you and Angel haven't exactly 'consummated the marriage' huh?" I nearly choke on my drink. "Huh? That's random. What-what gives you that idea?" My voice gets all squeaky, my face feels hot. "I'm the bar tender, when people get drunk, they give their problems to me. And right now, his biggest problem is you. He thinks you aren't attracted to him, or he's doing something wrong. Says you don't trust him."

"I didn't mean for him to feel bad, I just wanted him to know I care about him beyond sex! We've both lived lives where that was all there was. And I'm just so scared. I don't want to mess it up, and I want us to be in a place of complete comfort with each other. Obviously I'm attracted to him, have you seen him? There's not exactly a guidebook for all this. I just don't know how to trust, I guess. But that's not his fault." Husk smirks, looking behind me. I turn and find my lover. He's looking at me, mouth agape, through his bedazzled sunglasses. "I...think we need to talk." He says seriously. I simply nod, embarrassed. He takes my hand gently and leads me to his room, away from prying ears.

"Why didn't you just talk to me, (Y/n)? If you just weren't ready, I would obviously understand. Did you seriously think I of all people wouldn't understand?" He throws the glasses on the vanity, and paces anxiously. Okay, he's mad. "Angel, it's not like that."

"Then explain it to me! You don't want to trust me?"

"I do!" He comes over and grabs my hands, he looks at me with the most sincerity I've ever seen. "Then do it. Please." I'm overcome with emotion. "Angel?" He cups my face. "Yes?" I smash my lips to his. It's intense, passionate, incredible. This isn't our first kiss, but it's the first with so much heat. I slide my hands down to the hem of his shirt. He breaks away. "Are you sure?" I nod wordlessly. "Is that okay?" I ask. "Absolutely." He kisses me again and again and again, every action eager. We move to the bed, separating as little as possible

~~~~~

"Fuck, Angel, that was..."

"Mind blowingly amazing?" He says excitedly, almost giggling. I laugh, winded. "Oh yeah. It's been so long since I was really into it, you know?" He pulls me into his arms contently. "Yeah, I get ya, toots."

"(Y/n), can I ask you something personal? I mean, I feel like I share a lot with you, but you're so closed off." He's not wrong, but I don't admit it aloud. "Go ahead." Maybe it's the endorphins, but after all this, I know I can trust him. "How did you die?" I can't help but laugh. "You don't hold back, do you?" I can feel the tears burning in the back of my eyes, and the panic rising within me. I haven't spoken about it since I died, and I never thought I would. Angel senses my oncoming attack, and holds me tighter. "I'm sorry, you don't have to-"

"I was on my own leash. Told me who to sleep with, told me how, controlled what I got out of it. He used me, I was at his beck and call. And one night, I... I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up to him, and he got so mad. He-He started to hit me, throw me around. I was already so weak and sore from the days work, I couldn't fight back." I'm crying, my grip tightening on Angel. "He said I needed to learn my place, said he'd fuck me into place if he had to. He trapped me between himself and the floor, and kept beating me. I was helpless, I was caged. He took his pants off, and it went dark-" I can't take it anymore. I yell out angrily and rip myself out of Angels grasp.

"Don't touch me!" Gasping and breathing erratically, I sit on the edge of the bed clawing at my chest and throat. I refuse to look at Angel, but I can feel his shocked gaze. "Shit! He probably fucked my corpse and threw me in a gutter! He's probably walking around here somewhere." I feel like air is being squeezed out of my chest rather then going in. Am I going to puke? That's be embarrassing. Angel's voice sounds far away until I hear my name.

"(Y/n), stop! I'm here, he's not. You're safe. Listen to me." He doesn't touch me, but slides off the bed to rest in his knees in front of me. He looks so beautiful and innocent. "Breathe for me, darlin. Follow me, okay?" I copy his deep breaths and slow exhales, struggling at first, but eventually I stop shaking. Even more exhausted now, I slump over, and he grabs me. He moves us back to a more comfortable position in the bed, and I nuzzle into him like a lifeline. "I'm so sorry." He whispers. I don't know if he means for asking or for what happened, but I don't ask. He kisses the top of my head, and whispers sweet nothings. "I trust you, Angel."

"I trust you, too."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #vivziepop #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin x reader #angel dust x reader #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #angel dust #angel dust fanfic

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amyelevenn · 2 months ago

Text

All I know is that you drove us off the road

PAIRING; Oscar Piastri x driver!reader

SUMMARY; Oscar insists on taking you to the airport after a race, but faces engine problems on the way there.

WARNINGS; none really - mainly fluff! maybe a car breaking down?

A/N; I really enjoyed writing this! let me know any thoughts and feelings are always appreciated!

1.8k words masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

“No, please. I can make my own way to the airport, Piastri,” you laugh, giving him a shit eating grin at his implication. “I can drive, ya know.”

It was the Monday after the Melbourne Grand Prix; it wasn’t a particularly notable race for either of you, despite you both finishing in point scoring positions. It wasn’t an overly entertaining race; no flags or spectacular overtakes from anyone in particular.

“You were drunk last night, not sure you should be driving,” he grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes.

A couple drinks were consumed the night before at a local bar Oscar’s friends had told you about. It wasn’t much, not overly busy on a random Sunday night in March. It allowed for some kind of anonymity, something that was quickly becoming a foreign concept to you.

You shove his shoulder, giggling as you feign anger. “I had two drinks! In what world does that classify as being drunk?”

Oscar rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a happy chuff. “Please, come to the airport with me. I’m going that way anyway!”

It’s hard not to deadpan at him; you may not have been a local, but you knew well enough that the Melbourne Airport wasn’t exactly near anything else. It was well over an hour from the city, where he was claiming to be headed.

“Osc, just accept the no,” you half beg, beginning to roll your suitcase away from him and towards where your team were gathered. You almost manage to take two steps before his hand wraps around your arm, pulling you back in his direction.

He had miscalculated how close you would end up being to him – you were mere inches away from his face, bodies all but pressed against each other.

“I insist. Let me take you to the airport, love,” he mutters, with an air of intimacy that came with the proximity.

You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath in anticipation until your body forced you to sigh. Finally, you give in to his insistence, silently nodding in acceptance. He takes a second, closely examining your face, before moving in the direction of his car. your face heats up ever so slightly, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach not something you were wanting to experience.

You are just friends, a little voice screams in the back of your mind. But the way he looks at you makes you wonder – what if there could be something more?

You were quick with your goodbyes to your team, informing them Oscar had pestered your walls down enough to convince you to ride with him. You comically exaggerate it as much as you can, making him into some sort of creepy guy who doesn’t leave you alone until you finally agree to go out with him. They all laugh, hard, which confuses you until a hand taps on your shoulder, revealing the man himself standing awkwardly behind you.

You excuse yourself from the group, laughter echoing behind you as you and Oscar walk away, his teasing grin matching your own.

“You really think I’m some annoying loser?” he teases, bumping his elbow into yours as you enter the hotel carpark. You barely even notice his hand resting softly on the small of your back as he guides you towards his car.

“Ha ha,” you sarcastically laugh, purposely losing all tone from your voice. He shakes his head as he silently giggles to himself, opening the passenger door for you. You thank him faintly, making a mental note of his little actions that have really established him at the respectful, gentlemanly one on the grid; and rightfully so.

Getting in himself, he revs the engine before pulling away from the crowded midday carpark. A soft silence envelops you, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the radio. It wasn’t uncomfortable, nor foreign, sitting in the quiet of each other’s presence. In fact, the tranquillity was a welcomed constant in your ever busy careers.

You had known Oscar for a couple years now, and he was one of the few drivers who actively went out of his way to maintain a positive relationship off the track, despite your lives depending on besting the other ever odd weekend.

As the car navigated the city’s complex grid, the beauty of Albert Park in autumn faded from view, leaving you in awe of the towering Melbournian metropolis—a testament to human ingenuity that always amazed you.

“You drove really well yesterday,” he gives, not necessarily trying to fill the comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Osc. It was certainly better than the crash I had in Bahrain!” you laugh, beginning to find it increasingly hard to ignore his constant glances over to you. “You drove a great race too! That overtake of Leclerc was really quite something.”

He sighs, dismissing the comment as if it meant nothing. He tried so hard to act nonchalant on the surface, but internally? He adored hearing any praise you had for him, even if it wasn’t directly from you, but instead Lando or the PR manager telling him you said ‘Osc is so beyond talented!’

It didn’t take much for you to compliment him, which was the best part; he was always doing something amazing that prompted telling him just how good he was, or how lucky he had gotten that day, or how cool his special livery looked.

Even it was miniscule, you always had a comment for him that would make his day.

You hadn’t even noticed the car slowing to a stop, pulling over on the side of some random suburban road until you were at a full stop, the engine beginning to smoke under the hood.

“Oscar what the hell have you done…” you raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Uh, I’m not sure but I reckon we should maybe get out of the car,” he stutters, pushing himself out of his side before opening the hood to assess the severity of the situation.

You shook your head in disbelief, a chuckle escaping your lips at the absurdity of your situation. Here you are, stuck on the side of the road, while a Formula 1 driver fumbles under the hood. Talk about irony.

It was difficult, watching him rattle around underneath the hood when he clearly had no expertise here and not laugh your ass off. “This feels like…some sort of karma for forcing me to ride with you. I thought you knew how to drive?” you finally laugh, the ludicrosity of it all hitting you like a brick wall.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched him struggle – maybe he needed more than a racing licence to handle car troubles.

“Hey, i didn’t twist your arm to get in, love,” he huffs. “And I am an amazing driver, thank you so very much.” He tries to stifle the smile breaking out on his face, but you notice it before it got hidden away.

Before you are able to retaliate, a middle-aged couple emerges from the house you had broken down in front of.

“You fellas alright?” the man asks, pushing the gate outwards so they have a better vantage point over the smoking vehicle.

“We are so sorry, are we in the way?” you ask, putting on a sympathetic show that you had become so used to having for the fans. “We were just about to call for help, they shouldn’t take too long to get here.”

“Nah mate, they’ll take foreva to get ‘ere and cost ya an arm an’ a leg. Let me help youse,” he offers, but doesn’t allow you the option as he waddles over to where Oscar is still hunched over.

The woman moves to stand next to you, introducing herself, Kristyn, and her husband, Mitch. You give yours in return, to which she compliments you on your name. “’ve never met one before,” she muses, repeating your name gently under her breath to herself.

You smile softly, making light small talk as Mitch explains to Oscar what is at fault with the engine.

“You two seem like a gorgeous couple. How long’ve you been datin’?” she asks, not noticing the caught-off-guard expression you have on your face.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as she compliments you, your heart racing at the unexpected attention. It almost bugs you more than you would have anticipated, a sense of embarrassment creeping along your flushed skin.

You ponder telling her the truth, that you aren’t together, but figure it would be easier to go along with it, for her and your sake.

“Almost a year now, yeah,” you smile, feigning a sense of admiration for your ‘boyfriend.’

“Aw, bless your sweet young hearts,” she hums, gently patting your shoulder as if to say you had her approval. It was weird, but it felt nice to have her endorsement of a relationship that wasn’t even real. Maybe you wanted more with Oscar?

You nod along, answering any and all of her follow up questions about him, like how you met, how he asked you out, if marriage was on the table. You almost enjoyed making up a whole story for her, weaving this intricate narrative for her to invest herself in. the pair of you had gotten so caught up in each other that you hadn’t noticed the car being put back together, Mitch reviving the engine in approval of a job well done.

“Well, at least he isn’t the only one who can’t handle car troubles!” you muse, laughing with Kristyn as the boys make their way over to you.

Mitch wraps a lose arm around his wife, and you follow his lead as you intertwine your own around Oscars waist, to which he accepts with no questions.

“Thank you so much for your troubles,” he murmurs. “Can i give you some money or something? It’s the least we could do.”

The couple scoff in sync, laughing at the idea of being paid for merely helping out a stranger. “Nah, we don’t want your dough mate. Just don’t blow the car up, that’ll be enough.”

“Are you sure? Please, let us compensate you in some way, as a thank you,” you suggest.

“Maybe you should drive instead of him, aye?” Kristyn laughs, breaking the four of you into a fit of giggles. You nod in agreement, to which Oscar immediately shoots down with the reason of it’s his car.

“Well, thank you again for your help. We really appreciate it.” Oscar squeezes your shoulders, then releases you as he walks over to the passenger side to open it for you. It wasn’t until then that you realised how much you had been leaning into his side, missing the warmth of him almost immediately. You say your goodbyes, telling them it was really nice to meet them, and one final thank you for their kindness.

As you drive on, laughter spilling between you, you can’t help but think maybe this unexpected detour was just what you needed to explore what’s brewing beneath the surface.

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

as always, feedback is appreciated!

#formula 1 #oscar piastri #x reader #reader insert #formula one #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #melbourne #fluff #gender neutral reader #ames writes ! ☽

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adnauseum11 · 9 months ago

Text

Permanent Change of Station (John Price x Reader)

You goad John and make a revelation.

2.6k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

Feedback Welcome!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, master list is pinned to my blog.

‘John! Slow down, you absolute muppet.”

You are practically panting, tugging hard on his hand after having to trot alongside his long strides for most of the way home. He finally seems to hear you and his next step is shortened, scaling back to a speed that allows you to pull even with him.

“Sorry, love.” He acknowledges, his tone still brusque.

“Are you alright?”

Now that you can catch your breath a bit, you’re concerned, John’s dragging you down the street out of character. You march beside him for a moment and he seems to chew your question over before giving the most unbelievable answer possible when you arrive at the front door.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You sigh, watching him fiddle with his keys. As you wait beside him you take in his body language, your slowly sobering brain working overtime on the puzzle that is John Price. The tension hasn’t left his body and his shoulders are tight. The set of his jaw is stern, his expression pinched. You wonder at his full-bodied reaction to some mindless drunk idiot, unsure if the change in his normal demeanour is your relatively new relationship status or something else. You decide to push the boundaries you used to stick to, instead of backing off.

“John, you dragged me two blocks. What’s going on?” You follow him into the front hallway, shrugging out of your coat.

“Not a fan of his hands on you, is all.”

John answers, half turned away from you, the lines of his body still stiff with unspent energy. He’s hanging up the coats while you step out of your boots, watching him for clues.

“Jealous? Of that guy?”

You can’t help the incredulity in your tone and are rewarded with a sharp look from John.

“Not jealous. Concerned for your safety.”

He answers, facing you again. You are reminded of the size difference between you, and how much restraint John usually shows when he puts his hands on you.

“My safety?”

John stays silent but his eyes are locked on you, the intensity not having left his face in the slightest. Your half-sober brain finally puts the pieces together, catching up with your mouth. John’s primed for a fight that isn’t coming, his body wound tight to react to a threat no longer there. Oh.

“Are you sure, John?”

“Your safety is my business, especially now.” He’s still terse, his hands going to his hips as he stares you down, not enjoying the implications of being considered jealous over some pissant.

You can’t tell if it’s the beer still running through your veins or some inner swell of confidence but you sashay away from John, plucking the buttons of your work shirt open as you go. You’ve already decided the best course of action, whether he realizes it or not.

“I’m safe, John. Are you going to be able to let it go, now?”

He’s watching your hands, following you down the hallway without any conscious thought.

“Sure.”

He answers with one word, not convincing you at all. His back is still straight and the tension is still visible in his body, even at a few steps from him as you are now.

You look at him with a raised brow before dropping your shirt into the hamper. John watches you wiggle out of your work pants, standing in your underwear giving him a disbelieving look. He stands arms akimbo, focus intent, sucking up all the air in the room.

“Not very believable, handsome. Want to know what I think?”

You pick your way over to him, your heart thrumming against your breastbone. You’ve poked at John before, but he’s usually in a better head space to take your prodding. You hope you aren’t biting off more than you can chew, his mood not so forgiving now.

“Hmm?”

“I think you need to burn off this energy.”

“You complained at having to walk fast, darling.”

John’s tone is sardonic and dismissive, but his eyes don’t leave you. You can feel the hairs raise on your body, anticipation spiralling through you.

“Not like that, I think you need to fuck me.”

“What?”

John’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting those words to come out of your mouth. His eyes darken though, a nod to the desire simmering between you all night that even he can’t will away.

“You heard me.” You step into his space, your fingers walking up his stomach to follow the curve of his ribs. You grab two fistfuls of his shirt over his pecs, tugging him down so you can speak directly into his ear. “C’mon John, fuck me.”

It’s as if you have flipped a switch in the man, his hands wrapping around your biceps tightly, stepping into you and directing your body backwards into the wall with a thump. His hands lack the tenderness they normally have, now grasping and greedy, squeezing the softness of your curves as he pins you in place.

“You make me fucking crazy; you know that?”

John’s breath is hot at the base of your neck, making your belly swoop with lust. His gravelly voice is low, sending shivers down to the base of your spine as it washes over you, your fingers spreading over his belly. You’re trying to get your fingers under his shirt when John yanks it up between his shoulder blades, throwing it. You only get a moment to press your palms against the wiry hair of his warm belly before he’s jerking you around, making you face the wall.

His palms pin your shoulders firmly, the unspoken message clear, don’t move. You make a small questioning sound before you can feel the whiskers of his face and his hot mouth on the base of your neck. His hands stroke down to your bra, undoing it to make way for his mouth, working down the vertebra of your spine. You can feel him kneeling, his knees on either side of your feet and his hands tugging your thong down, his whiskers and mouth in the small of your back. Your thighs clench together of their own volition, your flesh breaking out in goosebumps at his touch. His teeth closing on the globe of your ass makes you gasp and twist, a hand landing in his hair. A dark chuckle and he grips your wrist, removing your hand as he stands, spinning you around to face him again.

Before you can say a single thing, he’s got your face between his palms, claiming your mouth with his lips and tongue, shutting any higher brain function down. Your hands wrap around his forearms, steadying yourself against his crowding body. He’s moving you again, your legs wobbly from the rush of desire coursing through you. John follows your stumbling steps, steering you into the bathroom as he devours your mouth, drinking in the small needy sounds you can’t help making. You’re panting when he breaks away, his hands bold on your body, twisting you around again, this time to face the mirror.

You can see your own kiss swollen lips, cheeks and chest flushed, nipples tight in the reflection. John’s face is dark with intent, one hand curling over your belly to cup your slit, his fingers sliding over your slick curls, his other landing on your back, forcing your forward. The pressure of his fingers coupled with his insistent pushing has the air leaving your lungs in a moan, and your hands scrambling for purchase on the sink counter. The little bottles of face cream and serum you had lined up scatter as you awkwardly brace yourself, John snugging his still clothed erection against the curve of your ass.

“You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you. You’re going to watch.”

John is hunched over you, speaking lowly into your ear, making your thighs clamp around his hand. Your face is inches from the mirror in this position, bent over the counter, and you watch your own pupils dilate as John slides a finger into you up to his knuckle, sending you onto your toes.

“Oh god –“

Your next words die on your lips, replaced with a throaty moan. John’s finger is rocking into you as he frees his twitching cock, the blue of his eyes a faint ring around his blown pupils. He presses the hot length of himself against your ass, trapping his hand between your thighs and the counter. The muscles of his arm dance as he works you over, adding a finger as he glides through your slick walls. The moment you find some purchase to grind against him he eases off, sliding his hand from your body to your frustrated whimper. You can see the tell-tale flush of his arousal working down his throat in his reflection, his eyes tracking your body’s movements in the mirror.

“Hold still.”

He orders darkly, and you obey, watching as he focuses on tracing your soaked slit with the flushed tip, making you gasp and bite your lip, your gaze meeting with his in the reflection. His hot eyes bore into yours as he presses into you, the stretch making your eyes widen and a whine build in your throat. The intensity in his eyes as he buries himself in you steals all thought, making you mindlessly arch your back and press back against him as best you can. He only gives you a moment to process before he starts moving, the weight of his thrusts driving your thighs into the counter. It’ll leave a bruise tomorrow but your focus is completely on the drive of John’s blunt cock, filling you over and over again, his hands gripping your hips.

He sets a steady pace, his heavy thrusts forcing you to slap a palm against the mirror to keep your face from crashing into it. It gives you some purchase to push back against him, making him growl lowly, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

“You like that, hmm? You take me so well, darling, you feel so good wrapped around me.”

John’s rambling, his low voice more of a rumble in his chest, his palm insistent on your back again. The drag of his cock through your wetness, paired with the sinuous movement of his body in the mirror and his velvet voice is making you feel drunk again, caught spinning between sensations. You can hardly string together a reply, your words slurred as you fight to keep yourself from colliding with the mirror.

“Yes, John, just like that, fuck –“

You break off, John’s insistent fingers on your hips tugging you back to meet his thrusts. He bottoms out making you both moan, your body clenching around him. You can feel your slick arousal leaking, coating John’s hot flesh as his thrusts pick up speed. Your hair brushes the mirror as you lose your focus to John’s insistent cock, and then he’s threading his fingers through it, tugging your head back, the pull a counterpoint to his thrusts.

The moans he’s pulling from you are only raising in pitch, bouncing in the bathroom’s acoustics as you get caught between sensations. Each jolting thrust tugs your hair by the root, sending wave after wave of tingles through your scalp and back down your spine to your pussy. You whine as your muscles involuntarily clamp down on him, an answering guttural groan torn from his chest at the pressure.

“Oh shit, that’s so good, don’t stop.”

You manage to pant out, your voice needy and your eyes heavy lidded with pleasure, inches from your own face in the mirror. Your inner muscles are starting to flutter, a tell-tale sign of your impending orgasm. John doesn’t break his rhythm or let go of your hair, slapping your ass, the sting bringing you onto your toes. Your body bears down on him in surprise, making you push back on the mirror and John hisses, his grip on your hair tightening.

“Fucking hell, look at me.”

John orders, his voice dark and his face intense. You drag your gaze from his flexing body to his eyes, suddenly feeling like you are being swallowed whole. Goosebumps break out, unable to look away as John’s thrusts turn slightly frantic, the wet sounds of your flesh meeting getting louder and more insistent. His grip on your hair brings you back onto your toes, your back arched and hips canted. Your hands on the mirror leave smudges as they slip, your body coiling taut and fighting for release.

“I want to watch you cum around me”

His voice wraps around you, pouring into your ear and going straight to your pussy. He smacks your ass again roughly, and you jerk, your head bobbing and your hair tugging in his grip. He doesn’t relent, staring you down as he bucks into your body, his eyes two dark pools of desire, sucking you in.

“Cum for me, love.”

The authoritative snap of his command does something to your insides and your eyes widen as your orgasm slams into you suddenly, making your fingers curl against the glass of the mirror. John thrusts deep, releasing your hair to grip your hips tightly as you shudder, clenching around him as you cum with a rattling cry, your body tensing below his. He rides out your pulsing orgasm for a few heartbeats, watching your eyes finally flutter closed before he pulls out, making you whine. He strokes himself tightly until he spills thick ropes of cum on your lower back, hissed curses drifting over your slumped shoulders. There’s nothing but panting moans and the weight of John sagging against you, the world narrowed to the two of you as you struggle to catch your breath.

It takes John a moment to gather himself, your own legs feeling shaky as you lean your weight on the sink counter. He lifts and you feel him stroking a cloth over your back a moment later, cleaning you up.

“You alright, love?” His palm slowly smooths up your spine, squeezing the base of your neck.

You hum an affirmative and John’s hands wrap around your arms, pulling you upright again and turning you to face him. The fiery intensity in his eyes is gone, replaced with warmth as he searches your face for a moment. Satisfied with whatever he sees he kisses you, wrapping you in his arms when you sway slightly, still unsteady.

“Will you shower with me?”

You ask, and it’s John’s turn to hum an affirmative, wrangling you close enough to turn the water on. You press your cheek into his chest, leaning into his solid body as the steam starts to accumulate in the room. You try to swallow the emotion suddenly clawing up your throat but John sees your face as he disentangles from you so you can get into the shower.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s following you in, letting you stand under the water while he frowns down at you. You try to shake your head and dismiss it but he’s not having it, cupping your face to make you look at him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Darling-“

You realize he’s not going to let it go after a moment and bite your lip, gripping his wrists tightly, wishing you were a better liar. This is not how you pictured having this conversation. There doesn’t seem to be any way to escape this without making it a bigger issue though.

“John – I’m… I think I’m in love with you.”

He’s breathing your name, a smile stretching across his lips, genuine delight taking years off his face.

“You know I’m in love with you too, darling. I’d do anything for you.”

You can feel his smile against yours when he kisses you repeatedly, and can feel the satisfaction in his touch when he derails the shower in short order, unable to keep his hands to himself.

Next Chapter

Ao3

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#fanfic #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers #john price x f!reader #john price smut #captain price #this work has smut #falling in love #john price x you

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thesummerpetrichor · 1 year ago

Text

𝓞𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓷

SoftDark!Joel Miller x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Explicit pictures of you taken by a man you cheated with find their way to your boyfriend's father's desk. He isn't too impressed with the artistry. Good thing he can make it right. He’s a photographer after all.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. No outbreak, NONCON, DUBCON, coercion, blackmail, manipulation, power imbalance, implications of revenge porn [not by Joel], infidelity, girthy age gap [reader is in her early 20s, Joel is in his early 50s], explicit photographs and photography, petnames, praise kink, daddy kink, minor size kink, soft dom!Joel, sub!reader, fingering, edging, just the tip action, creampie, cumplay?, unprotected P in V [be better!!]. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶

Word Count: 5.9K

A/N: Surprise Joel Miller smut because why not. This is my first time writing for Joel, so please be gentle. Going for the subtle horror meets porn vibes. Hope you nasties enjoy. mwah 💗

Masterlist

I never walk about after dark

It's my point of view

'Cause someone could break your neck

Coming up behind you

Always coming and you'd never have a clue

I never look behind all the time

I will wait forever

Always looking straight

Thinking, counting all the hours you wait

“S’ just a hobby.” Kind, gentle mister Miller had scratched the back of his neck modestly, towering over you as you inspected the black and white photo negatives freshly hung on his walls. He just seemed happy that someone appeared to be taking up an interest in his retirement activities. It was an interesting choice, you thought, to hang up the negatives.

That was your first time visiting the Miller household, and had you known your boyfriend’s father was as unassuming and sympathetic as he turned out to be, you wouldn’t have been as worried about meeting him as you were. You surely wouldn't have been able to guess looking at his pictures. But his scowl melted away into a soft, subtle smile the moment you walked through his door, and so did your reservations.

You learnt a lot from him that evening– about cameras and such. He indulged you in conversations about your life and interests– you had many in common. There were quite a few people at the Miller’s Christmas party, and he made sure you weren’t too lost in the crowd. It was nice to have a listening ear.

Humble as he was, it was only months later you discovered his pretty pictures in a photography magazine. At the hotel you were staying in while on vacation with his son. It was the last vacation you ended up taking together. Switzerland.

Since that Christmas you visited him every once in a while, occupying the couch in his office to help him sort through his prints, tidy up his gear, and chart out subjects he wanted to capture. His son didn’t really like making the twenty minute commute back home, so you brought his well wishes with you. Mister Miller liked the strawberry puff pastries you baked, so you brought them along as well.

He was a quiet guy, and after all these years alone seemed to enjoy the company of someone in the house. His face lit up just that little bit whenever you came over. Enough to let you know you were welcome back anytime.

His office was cozy. With a large Persian rug at its center, and tufted, walnut brown, leather furniture. He had an expansive library of literature beside his desk, one that he’d fitted to the wall himself. Reading- another one of his retirement hobbies.

His desk was tidy, almost completely empty save for a picture of him and his brother Tommy, sitting on a ledge with their arms slung around each other, an in-progress construction site for background. Judging from the lack of gray hair on his head, and the absence of the little crinkles beside his eyes, the photograph was at least twenty years old. It looked like it belonged to an alternate universe.

Mister miller looked a far cry from the sophisticated, whiskey drinking, cigar smoking, middle aged man you knew. A regular ol’ Joe, or Joel, rather. He had this rugged boyish charm about him. He was smiling wide, he looked happy. There was a jarring absence of that tired look in his eyes. Whether he looked more handsome back then, or now– you couldn’t decide.

It was late July. You watched the menacing, dark gray clouds drift lazily towards you from your living room window. It was 4pm, but you had the lights on, and the oven going in your kitchen. The younger Miller was not yet back from work, even though he was supposed to be off by 2:30. At times like that one you hardly regretted your unfaithfulness.

You had your little dinner date with Mister Miller that evening, but from the looks of it you might have had to reschedule. A crack of thunder reverberated along the walls of your two bedroom, and had you reaching for the kitchen timer you’d abandoned on your center table– the dial dangerously close to hitting ‘0’.

It felt more wrong than it should, calling it a date, considering the circumstances. You couldn’t say you didn't feel guilty still meeting his father, telling him that things were going great when they really weren’t. You wondered what Joel would think of you if he ever found out about your little secret.

It was difficult not to wonder how two people could be so similar and different at the same time. Why, save for some of his good looks, Mr. Miller’s best qualities did not seem to pass down to his son. Admittedly, you thought about it a lot. You thought about it when you found a shade of lipstick that surely didn’t belong to you stain the collar of his cream sweater.

Things had spiraled far out of your control since that moment. Into your secret paradise of hotel rooms and weekend getaways. Worst of all, you knew your partner was living a parallel life to yours. You could have ended your relationship, but things were just never that easy. Especially when consciously, or subconsciously mister Miller was part of the mix.

You reached in the oven and pulled out the pastries. Looking between the custard you’d put into your piping bag, and the strawberries you’d cut lengthways laying beside the powdered sugar. The clouds were closer than they were five minutes ago. Your backyard was no longer the lush Eden of green and purple it was in the morning. You thought of Mister Miller– spending the night alone at home, sitting at his desk, with no dessert to enjoy after dinner.

You reached for the piping bag and sighed, beginning to assemble the sweet treats and lay them in the pink paper box you’d picked out for him from your kitchen cabinet.

—

By the time you got to his house thick droplets of rain were already coming down from the sky. It was about three shades darker than it was when you left home, and the minacous clouds had caught up with you. You glanced at your phone.

7:00 pm

You felt a drop trickle down the side of your cheek as you ran up the front staircase leading to the main door. You rang the bell. It sounded full, and new. He must have fixed it recently.

Mister Miller opened the door. He always wore some variation of the same flannel shirt and dark jeans. Like a cartoon character. It was quite charming. You liked it. It was soft, and smelt like his perfume. Tobacco, Sandalwood. He rubbed your back soothingly when you hugged him.

You handed him the pink box. It had a darker pink ribbon wrapped around it, folded at the top into a big bow, with a small card wedged in between the loops.

“To Joel Miller :) ”

He chuckled, then smiled. “Thank you, sweetie.” You didn’t need his gratitude, he was nice enough to you as is, but you did appreciate it. In the past months he had become your only real excuse to bake.

He welcomed you inside, and soon enough you were settled in the dining room. He’d hung up a new painting since you’d last visited, and changed the light switches on the wall. Every time you were over there was a new addition to the home. You figured he liked having something to do.

By the looks of it he’d lit the candles there a while ago, and laid the table. He’d butterflied napkins in their napkin rings, and set out glasses for red, white, and dessert wine. You felt a lot better about not canceling. You noticed the brand new table runner against the table’s wood. He told you he bought it that morning. He sounded excited.

You helped him bring in the pot of stew from the kitchen, as well as a plate of cheese and a loaf of warm bread set on a wooden board. He served you some stew, then cut a few slices of the bread he’d baked and placed them on your side plate. It was surprising that he’d taken up an interest in baking. He always said he preferred to cook on the stove. He did it well.

“Taking after you.” he’d said, reaching for the wine decanter.

You wondered if he ever taught his son to cook, and if he did why the latter never liked to do so. You recognised the cheese on the platter. It was from the shop beside your house. You’d served it when he came home in February, with berry jam, marmalade and grapes. He hadn’t been back since then.

He was mostly quiet during dinner, as always. He listened to you ramble about the show you were watching, and how you found your grandmother’s recipe book in your attic. You assured him you’d be trying every recipe in that book. He said he hoped so. Other than that it was quiet. A comfortable quiet. And you watched wax dribble away from the candle wic, and pool at the base of the candelabra.

He cleared up while you brewed some tea and placed your pastries on the hand painted porcelain tray you’d gifted him for Christmas. You padded across the hardwood floors to his office, and it was only then you noticed how heavily it had been pouring outside.

You peeled back the white lace curtains to find a sheet of rain clouding your vision. You made out the dim, golden lights coming off the neighbor’s porch, and the street lamps flickering gently. You were glad you came. It was all quite welcoming, and warm and golden in the Miller household– far more than you would be if you decided to stay back home.

The door clicked open, and you felt him walking up behind you as you stood at his bookshelf. You pointed to the clock on the wall above it. “It stopped.” He exhaled heavily, with his hands on his hips, and looked up to the pathetically stuttering hours hand. It looked like it was fighting for its life within the confines of the glass– spluttering, struggling.

“Fixed it two days ago.”

You peeled your eyes away.

He eased himself into his leather office chair, reaching below the mahogany table to lift a large cardboard box filled to the brim with film. Used, unused, polaroids, disposables. It had red electrical tape around its edges, and the words ‘32, spiral cord and wire’ scribbled in black sharpie.

“Gotta sort these.” He looked at you apologetically, but you reassured him with a smile, and poured him a cup of tea while he inspected the box. Your eyes wandered to the wooden clock, the hand still pleading for help. You heard it's garbled tic. The contents of the box clattered to the desk, rhythmically with a crack of thunder outside.

You placed a plate and cup in front of him, then took your seat on folded legs across the table. The white curtains momentarily set ablaze, followed by another hard, violent thrum. You foredged through the pile, lightly covered with residual dust. The rings on your fingers sparkled when they caught the light of his table lamp.

Amongst the many treasures were some polaroids of the lake mister Miller liked to fish in, the cabin he built upstate, and the back end of Tommy's Miller’s orchard. They looked like test films to you. Not as fixed on composition as Joel was. The settings on the camera all over the place.

In the pile, under an oversaturated photograph of an apple tree, two familiar eyes peered up at you– much of the face covered and lost to the clutter. You reached for it. Bound together with a thin, blue paperclip were three separate photographs flimsily hanging on to one another.

You felt sick to your stomach.

The eyes were familiar, because they were yours.

A mangled torso, waxy, glossy legs, a chest glazed with the sheen of sweat. You looked more like a deserted mannequin than you did yourself. The dark gray “lighting” rendered your body and its surroundings lifeless– ironically, you remember quite enjoying it in the moment. But the polaroids were far more reflective of what you felt of them at present– plagued with regret and shame, and lifelessness.

How long had he known? Importantly, How did he find them? It hurt you to even think about it. The sound of the stuttering clock was deafening in your ears, ringing like an ominous, cruel joke.

You distinctly remember taking those pictures. Worse, you remember thinking of mister Miller as your partner had clicked them. You thought of what he’d think if he ever saw them. You could have never guessed you would actually find out.

“How long, sweetheart?” You forced yourself to look up, finding his eyes already boring you. He was upset, and angry, and there was something brewing behind his eyes. But worst of all he was disappointed in you. And out of all the possibilities, somehow that was the worst. You’d rather him be yelling, because there was something about that soft, gentle voice of his that unnerved you.

“Why didn’t’ ya say somethin’?” It was like a car crash, you just couldn’t look away from the polaroids in your hands. Your spread legs, bare breasts, panties thrown to the side. You opened your mouth to say something, but you just couldn’t manage it.

“Really shouldn’t let just anyone take those kinds of pictures.” Your eyes welled with hot tears as he reprimanded you. The whole ordeal had you feeling like you’d been sent to the principal's office, sitting across from him at his desk, both his forearms leaned on the table as he threatened you with consequences. He continued to speak, despite being met with your silence.

“You’re lucky these ended up here, would be a shame if he found out about it before you did.” While your little affair hadn’t ended well, you surely hadn’t expected whatever this was from your ex partner. He must have still thought your boyfriend lived at his childhood address. Boy did he make a miscalculation. You didn’t know which outcome you preferred.

You wanted to explain yourself, wanted to assure him you weren’t some cheating, lying piece of shit. That you and his son were just not working anymore, that you felt guilty, and never did it again, that the man who took those pictures was the last one you slept with. That you couldn’t just end things with his son because you didn’t want to lose him. “Mister Miller- I-”

He cut you off, snatching the images from between your fingers. You watched with burning eyes and your heart hammering in your chest as he inspected them. The man would never look at you the same. He sighed, his downturned, disappointed eyes catching yours. That look, it broke your heart.

“I mean, look at these babygirl. Ya’ look dead.”

With your palms cold and sweaty, and cheeks set ablaze, you sure felt like it. The burning in your chest and neck had become almost unbearable.

“Such a cute lil’ body ya’ got there. And this-” he shook his head, his unblinking gaze forcing your eyes to his. “This boy fuckin’ ruined ya.” He tossed the polaroids on his desk, and leaned forward.

It took you about ten seconds to realize that mister Miller’s real quam with the pictures was, for better or for worse, not the fact that they existed, or worse, weren't taken by his son, but that they were bad. Not morally, or ethically, especially considering how they’d landed in his possession, but artistically, formally.

“Would be a shame if my son were to say, find em, layin’ ‘round.” The room began to spin in slow circles. In a second a flash of lighting struck through the curtains in the window behind Joel, his frame completely backlit by the blinding light momentarily. You winced as another harsh crack of thunder descended upon the quiet office.

“No, mi- Please-”

“‘Specially to see ya like this, catch ya like this. In these god awful pictures.” He took your chin between his fingers, eyes filled with faux concern, brows furrowed. But behind the obvious facade there was something sinister and cruel. Something you wished you had seen before. Because you were sure it had always been there.

“How ‘bout we fix ‘em, huh babygirl?” your eyes widened at the realization, at the weight of his implication. His grip on your chin was unrelenting, a warning, a little taste of what was to come. Had he forgotten somehow that you were in fact his son’s girlfriend and not his? A girl who was to him, until about ten minutes before, his future daughter in law?

“You gonna help daddy fix ‘em for ya?” Time seemed to lose its cadence, every moment stretched endlessly as you remained trapped under his dead eyed, unwavering gaze. His words sent a jolt between your legs, that name sent a jolt between your legs, and had you squeezing them together shamefully as you struggled to blubber out a response.

He raised his brows in question, once again offering you the artificial choice before you were sure he would take what he wanted himself. You swallowed thickly, and nodded. It was a lot less difficult than you let yourself believe. What were you going to do?

“Hmm good girl. Get on ya knees sweetie.” Still gripping your chin he reached for the camera on his desk. A polaroid SX 70– the one he used to click a picture of you blowing out your candles on your birthday. In that same office, where he sang to you alone, because his son was on a work trip.

He pinched your cheek, and got up to round the table. You knew better than to talk back. You were reminded when you saw how his frame towered over you, like that first night you’d met him. Except this time his broad shoulders and muscular arms were threatening, intimidating, and undeniably making you weak in the knees.

Pushing your chair back you got on your knees on that once thick, soft Persian carpet. It’s weave like a thousand needles piercing your skin, and no longer the cloud on which you liked to sit.

“Would’ve expected more from a smart cookie like you. Didn’t I teach ya better sweetie?” It was sick. You knew he was talking of not only your carelessness, but those pictures. You should have known to come to him. He would have helped you figure it out. Your relationship troubles, and how to take those photographs. He squatted down to your level, eyes raking over your body like you were already on display for him.

“Lemme see ya sweetie.” You wished he would just rip off the bandaid and do it himself. It would feel less humiliating. Reaching for the buttons of your sweater you undid them one by one. He watched your every movement, eyes trained on your chest as you exposed the swell of your breasts.

He reached forward, and brushed his thumb over your skin, hushing you soothingly when you shivered. Your hot skin burned further under his feather light touch. It was like you’d always imagined– gruff and rugged, but skillful. Just like him. His fingers were rough, and reminded you of the photograph of him and Tommy on his desk. He suddenly looked a lot more like the man in that picture.

It was like he was eating you up with his eyes with each bit of clothing you discarded on his floor. He hummed when you got to your white, daisy print ankle socks, and caught your wrist when you reached to pull them off.

“Keep em’ on.”

Once brimming with vitality, his brown eyes turned lifeless, devoid of any flicker of emotion or human connection. You found yourself questioning whether you ever really knew him– the gentle, unassuming man you adored. If he even existed in the first place.

Left in nothing but your bra and panties you sat on your knees in front of him, unable to meet his eyes. Pink lace. You’d worn them on purpose, because your little dates were always a special occasion. You weren't planning on him seeing them.

By the looks of it he seemed quite pleased with your choice.

“All f’ me, babygirl?” His voice had dropped three octaves, almost slurred thanks to his smooth southern drawl. You swallowed thickly, and nodded your head. As much as you hated to admit it, he was, in some convoluted way, one hundred percent correct.

Excitement defiantly swirled in your tummy as he let his hands roam your mostly bare body for a few seconds. Like he was examining and inspecting you. He lifted your limp arm to get a better look at your bare waist, then let it fall by your side and reached for the straps of your bra– loosening them to the point they were barely hanging on to your shoulders.

The room began to spin a little faster when he gently pushed you back against the carpet, one palm planted firmly on your stomach to hold you there, the other hand folding your knees and planting your heels on the ground. The cup of your bra slipped off your chest, your breast now bare to the cool air. You felt exposed, for reasons less obvious than they really were.

You heard the violent swish of the wind outside. It felt far and distant, and like it was right in that room, all at the same time.

He began inspecting you again. It was odd, surely he liked the sight of your body, you could tell when you eyed the obvious bulge in his pants, but he was looking at you like you were some prop– like a little sex doll for his little photoshoot. He was moving you around as he pleased, positioning your limbs and tilting your head like an inanimate object. You didn’t fight back, let him take control of your body. It made your stomach churn, your core tingle.

He nudged and then kneeled between your legs, fully clothed, looking at you methodically. You felt the cool air brush the wet spot that had formed on your panties as you gazed up at the ceiling, far too ashamed to meet his gaze.

You watched him reach upwards towards his desk, and shift the lamp there till it was barely hanging on to the edge. The light hit you in the face, and forced your eyes shut till he turned it away and towards your chest. You tilted your chin to get a look at him, despite your better judgment.

He hummed, swiping your dripping seam with his thumb, only stopping to eye you in warning when your body understandably jerked at the contact. The dark look in his eyes reminded you you weren’t really there for your own enjoyment, and more for his. It was like your natural movement was some sort of inconvenience to him, something that was hindering and interfering with his creative process.

It was nauseating. But despite the fear that bubbled in your chest, you couldn’t deny the thrum of excitement that ran through your system when he began adjusting the settings on his camera. A part of you, a much bigger part of you than you'd like to admit, was enjoying the entire experience.

“Look at that.” He chuckled, presumably at the way the fabric of your panties clung messily to your wetness in spite of your seemingly unwilling demeanor. You felt a drop of sweat roll down between your breasts in anticipation.

He teased your clit over your panties, switching between watching your face intently and finding the best angle. Leaning backwards and forwards. You knew better than to move around this time. “That boy doesn't know a thing about angles does he?” He was mumbling, excessively concentrated on properly composing his shot.

“‘S’ okay sweetheart, we’ll fix it.” Hooking two fingers under the seam of your panties he pulled them aside, exposing your bare cunt to the chilly air. “Daddy’ll fix it.” He watched himself run his fingers through your wetness, and you watched him swallow thickly at the view. You chewed on your bottom lip, summoning all your restraint not to wiggle your hips in his direction.

“Thought ‘bout this cute lil cunt all fuckin week.”

Your disobedient mind encouraged the desire that pooled in your core, and you turned your head side to side to rid yourself of the disturbing thought.

He must have noticed your strained expression, the way you were so clearly begging to be touched, but refused to admit it. Your creased brow was not one of intense pleasure, but anxiety, uncertainty and perpetual frustration. His shoulders dropped defeatedly, and he looked at you like he was about to unleash on you another set of debased instructions.

“Gotta look like you’re enjoyin’ yourself more than that babygirl.”

Caught slightly off guard, but admittedly thankful nonetheless, a breathy sigh escaped your lips as he began drawing soft circles on your aching clit. “That’s it babygirl” His praise licked between your legs, going straight to your core. Fingers wet with your slick he rubbed your throbbing pussy, and you let your head fall back against the carpet.

“So fuckin’ wet f’ daddy.”

Increasing his pace ever so slightly his fingers moved to tease your aching hole, just barely pushing in. You felt a moan bubble in your throat, forcing its way out of your mouth. It was more than embarrassing to admit you were enjoying his attention.

“Let go babygirl. Daddy’s gonna make ya’ look so pretty in his pictures- like ya’ really are, like ya' deserve.”

He bit his lip to keep from smiling when he heard the soft moan slip past your lips. “That's better.” You didn’t know if he was more pleased with your pleasure, or the fact that you’d look better in the photographs.

As your chest rose and fell with his movements you were more and more convinced. It was undoubtedly better to play along and give in. There was little point resisting by the time the thought even occurred to you. Admittedly, embarrassingly late. At least that's what you told yourself when you moaned and sighed below him.

“Shit sweetheart. Wish you could see what ‘m seein’.” You imagined what Joel could see through the lens. It felt dirty, and contrite, but also exhilarating, and warm and right.

You felt the tension build in your hips, between your legs. He had been resisting fucking you with his fingers, and your need to be filled was only increasing with each touch to your sensitive clit– your aching hole clenching around nothing. Your mind wandered to the way you’d undoubtedly seen his cock twitch in his jeans at the sight of you. How you’d been wishing secretly for him to fill you up.

The coil in your belly tightened, and tightened, and you felt yourself reach the edge, the very peak of your pleasure. You made out a beam of white lightning through your half closed, lust clouded eyes.

He brushed his thumb over your clit, ever so slightly. You were so so close, feeling the tension reach its highest point in a split second and then dissolve entirely. You gasped, back arching off the ground.

In the deafening silence you heard the shutter and click of the camera. The sound was menacing. And it made your tummy flutter.

“That's it baby, good girl”

Your slick pooled at your entrance, running down your thighs and making you shift uncomfortably. You felt numb in your toes, something in you prompting you to kick your feet just a little. At the lost pleasure. The word was leaving your mouth before you could even register it.

“Daddy”

“I know, I know-” Fuck. He sounded so gentle. Like the Joel you knew. The Joel you loved. “just a little longer sweetheart, you can take it.” He rubbed the inside of your thigh.

He rested his camera on his knees and reached forward to cup your cheek, stroking your warm skin with his thumb. His fingertips were ice cold, and made you wince. “Just think of how pretty they're gonna turn out-” The look in his eyes was pleading, like you even had a choice in the matter. You wondered if he thought you did. Either way it seemed to work on you. “How pretty you’re gonna look.”

“C’mon be a good girl f’ daddy.” His words made you mewl. Joel pinched your hip in warning, but kept his voice steady.

“C’mere” Hitching both your legs on his shoulders and on either side of his head he scooted forward on his knees. Your skin tingled in anticipation, and you wondered what it would be like to have his head between your thighs.

Admiring your white ankle socks he ran his thumb along the base of your foot, making your squirm in his hold. He engulfed its arch in his large palm, placing a kiss to your soul and then your ankle, moving forward to nuzzle your calf with his nose.

“Goddamn, such a cute lil thing.”

You watched him palm his bulge through his jeans, then undo his belt with his eyes still trained on your messy, wet pussy. As if he’d caught you staring he reached forward and tilted your chin back up towards the ceiling. Surely, you straining your neck to get a good look at him was doing nothing for his shot composition.

You felt him let go of your shin in favor of guiding his cock along your throbbing seam. His tip bumped your clit, making you mewl and inadvertently lift your hips in his direction. You wished you could see him, on his knees in front of you, his cock teasing your dripping cunt.

“Poor thing, can feel how bad ya’ need it.” Exhaling heavily he continued to rub his cock against your wet folds, eyes fixated below him. He cursed lowly under his breath, and lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in just a little.

Your mouth fell open in a wordless cry at the slow stretch of him, and you attempted to grab fistfulls of the carpet beneath you. He’d barely put it in , but it was enough to send your eyes fluttering shut.

“Cute lil pussy can barely take my cock, baby.”

He fucked you, giving you just the tip, over and over and over, unwilling to burry himself in you to the hilt. You felt him twitch inside you, the slow pace and minimal contact enough to keep you both on edge, and not enough to provide any semblance of relief.

You whined in protest.

“Shh babygirl, I know.” He fucked you in slow shallow strokes, hips barely moving. You felt his eyes glued to your face, as if he was waiting for the perfect moment to snap his shot.

He thumbed your clit, his own breath quickening when your walls clamped around his cock.

You’d never reach your peak this way, and it looked like he noticed. It seemed to be quite a large part of his artistic vision, and you were more than glad.

He groaned and thrust himself to the hilt in a single slow push, picking up his pace just enough to where you could feel him hit that sensitive spot inside you. His cock throbbed against your aching walls, the drag of him sending your eyes rolling back into your head. His hands gripped your thighs, lips dragging across your calves every now and then as he fucked your warm, wet pussy– slow and deep.

You felt full, unlike you ever had before. With the way he was making you feel it was difficult to think of who he was, and how he’d got you into this position. Neither your boyfriend’s existence, nor the reality of his intimidation took away from the soaring pleasure that made your body sing.

It was all too much to bear, and you could feel your orgasm building in your core once again.

The ominous sound of the wooden clocks garbled tic found its way back to your ears, this time in rhythm with your pounding heart. It sounded oddly comforting, like it was pushing you closer to the edge.

“Daddy-” you reached for his hand, bringing his large palm to squeeze your breast. He obliged, his free hand moving from there to tug and pinch at any part of you exposed to him.

“Daddy, gonna cum-” Joel sat back just a bit, still fucking into your soft cunt. “Cum ‘f daddy babygirl, fuck, that’s it.” It was all you needed, the tension that had been building in your core for what seemed like forever finally snapping. Your body went rigid, eyes screwing shut and back arching off the ground once again, legs tingling. Your walls fluttered around his cock as he slowed his pace, coaxing you through it. He hit that sweet spot inside you over and over, seemingly enjoying the many waves of your orgasm just as much as you.

Between the ticking and Joel's labored breaths, and ringing in your ears you barely heard the click of the camera, but the soft sound sent a jolt through your body, like an electric aftershock.

You took more than a moment to catch your breath, face tingling and head buzzing.

When your eyes fluttered open you noticed Joel had abandoned his camera on the ground beside him in favor of grabbing your thighs. Still sensitive you shivered as he fucked into your pussy, fast and hard. You looked up at his face, twisted in pleasure, the little wrinkles on his skin accentuated thanks to his frown and furrowed brow.

“So fuckin tight babygirl” You felt him pulse and throb inside you, emptying himself in a few final, sloppy thrusts.

He looked so handsome, with his hair just slightly out of place, and flannel wrinkled and messy. The thought of being filled up by him had your tummy erupting with butterflies.

Still catching his breath he reached for his camera, pulling out ever so slowly. With your legs still on his shoulders he tucked himself back into his jeans and fixed his belt, slowly easing himself on his stomach in front of you, and dropping your legs on either side of his head.

You couldn’t see him, but you felt him chuckle against your bare thigh, his breath tickling your skin. “Show me how full ya’ are of me babygirl– how messy ya’ are f’ daddy”. You bit your lip as you pushed, and heard yet another click of the camera echo across the room.

“Fuck. look so fuckin’ pretty, full’ve my cum” His spend leaked out of your fluttering entrance, and you felt him swipe his finger against the cut of your pussy and push anything that escaped right back in. He shifted your panties back in place, the material already dampening once again, this time with both your and his juices.

He sat up with his legs stretched out in front of him, back resting against the legs of his couch beside you. He pulled you to rest your head on his lap. You watched him intently as he reached beside him for the photographs. They must really be something, because mister Miller sure looked impressed with himself.

When he turned to you you were probably met with his most wide and genuine smile yet, the three fresh new polaroids pinched between his thumb and index. You watched as the white light from outside invaded the room, and struck his face, illuminating it for a split second. The garbled tic of the wooden clock had subsided into the white noise of the background, along with the steady hum of the rain. You relaxed into his embrace.

“Make the prettiest little model, don’t ya think sweetheart? Daddy’s gonna have to use ya’ more often”

And no, I'm not a jerk

I would ask if you could help me out

It's hard to understand

'Cause when you're running by yourself

It's hard to find someone to hold your hand

You know it's good to be tough like me

But I will wait forever

I need someone else

To look into my eyes and tell me

"Girl, you know you've got to watch your health"

See you on a dark night

Going to hell for this one. Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs keep me writing. I also want to re iterate please be careful about who you send or let take explicit pictures of yourself. Never show your face and stay safe. Dividers by @ saradika and @cafekitsune 💗🐝🫶

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