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after-witch · 3 years

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Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on.

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side. You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you. He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding.

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness.

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight, you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere #afterwitch writes

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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i can't forgive me & you can't forget

Summary: Spencer is happy that his boyfriend is as compassionate as he is, but watching Derek do everything he can to help Strauss with her alcoholism when he stood by and did nothing back when he was struggling with his dilaudid addiction is beginning to take its toll.

Tags: hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst, insecurity, est. rel., hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, angst w a happy ending, fluff TW: referenced past drug use, addiction, and overdose, implied/referenced alcoholism

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // The other fic in this universe

Inspired by @marisatomay’s post here!!! The title is from the second part of the poem Betrayal by Lang Leav.

It’s pushing ten pm by the time Spencer finally hears the front door open and close with a soft click, hears the rustling of Derek ditching his leather jacket on the crowded coat rack and toeing off his shoes — no doubt placing them neatly at the side of the hall like he always does — and listens to his footsteps as he nears the bedroom where Spencer’s been holed up since Derek left.

“Hey, baby boy,” Derek says with a warm, relaxed smile, his fingers already working on undoing his shirt buttons, before digging through their wardrobe to find a more comfortable top.

“Hey.”

Spencer watches him with tired eyes. He’s been feeling as hurt and despondent as he does this evening for weeks now, but tonight is the first time he doesn’t have the energy to hide it. He’s spent the entire afternoon in bed, and he’s certain it shows in the imprints of the creased pillowcase on his cheek and his messed up hair, and where just a couple of days ago he’d rush to hide those tells, he simply doesn’t care enough anymore.

Derek turns around from the wardrobe and shrugs off his shirt, replacing it with a soft blue t-shirt Spencer’s always liked on him. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

Spencer shakes his head. Derek undoes his belt and switches his trousers for a pair of grey sweatpants before walking over to the bed and climbing onto the mattress, grinning cheekily as he rolls over Spencer’s body and leans down to press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose.

It’s sweet and romantic and so painfully normal, and maybe that’s exactly why he suddenly finds himself swallowing back tears. He’s hardly spent any time with Derek outside of work in weeks and he’s hurt and sad and struggling, and it’s only making it worse that his loving and attentive boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. Really, Spencer knows he needs to communicate, and that a significant part of his pain is his responsibility, but the shame—

“Well that just won’t do,” Derek murmurs, interrupting his thoughts as he brushes his fingers over a lock of curly hair resting on Spencer’s temple. “I’ll go and make you something. Or we can order in? What do you fancy?”

Spencer shrugs, looking away. He’s not trying to be difficult, it’s just incredibly hard to think about food and a relaxing night in with your partner when you feel like your insides are splintering and you’re just barely holding yourself together.

Even without looking directly at his face, Spencer can see Derek’s brow furrow and his happy expression fade, and soon enough Derek’s fingers are at his chin, gently moving his head until he’s looking at him again. “Hey, pretty boy,” he says gently, looking so concerned it makes his chest ache, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on in that big old head of yours.”

So much of him wants to give in and tell him everything, wants to spill his fears and his anxieties and his anger and his shame onto the sheets of their bed and lay it all out for him. He wants to shout, “See? This is who I am! This is all my mess and my pain and my regret! Look at it!”

But he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to meet the swirling worry in Derek’s deep, beautiful brown eyes and he wills himself not to cry. “Nothing,” he lies. “I’m just tired. Hungry.”

He knows Derek doesn’t believe him, but there isn’t much he can do if Spencer isn’t willing to communicate, so he nods reluctantly and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead this time, lingering there for a moment longer than he usually does. The feeling of his boyfriend hovering over him and asking him what’s wrong and kissing him so tenderly is all Spencer’s craved for weeks, but now it’s here, he still feels sad and empty and hollowed out by shame and bitterness, desperate for something more without so much as an idea as to what exactly more might entail.

“I tell you what, I’ll go make you some tortellini, alright? There’s a pack in the fridge and it only takes a couple of minutes so I’ll be back before you know it,” Derek promises, and Spencer can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Regardless, Derek hops off the bed and heads out to the kitchen, leaving Spencer alone in the softly lit bedroom. He pulls the duvet further up to his chin and buries his face in it, the soft fabric gentle on his skin, and the comforting scent of Spencer’s shampoo mingling with Derek’s cologne settling him slightly.

Derek had spent the afternoon with Strauss at the rehab centre. And not for the first time.

The problem is, how can Spencer be mad at him for that? Really, it’s the epitome of his character: genuine, constant, unconditional compassion for everyone around him, no matter who they are or what his history with them might be. Of course he’d see Strauss struggling with her addiction and swoop right in, getting her settled in at the centre and spending hours with her on visiting days, fighting alongside Hotch to persuade the director to let her keep her job.

But watching him leave every week, watching him text her encouraging messages, hearing him talk about her progress and recovery… it strikes a nerve deep inside Spencer. He isn’t proud of how he feels. He knows it’s petty and illogical, but he can’t help it.

Because somewhere deep in his soul, an old version of himself, a sad, lonely, scared, addicted-to-dilaudid boy is crying out, why didn’t you do that for me?

It’s that question that really plagues him. They’re called into work the next day for a fairly interesting case in North Dakota, and there are some fairly strong links to the world of academia, so usually, Spencer would be all over it, reeling off facts and statistics and reaching out to his contacts to further the case. But for some reason, he just can’t get his head in the game.

He finds himself zoning out on the jet and wandering off at crime scenes without even knowing where he’s going. Initially, his team had assumed that he was thinking, or was going somewhere deliberately that might help them with the case, they’d all counted on Doctor Reid to come up with some brilliant theory to bring them closer to catching their unsub.

But Hotch had quickly realised that his head was somewhere else and kept him close to his side from then on. At least staying at the police station with Hotch and being tasked with reading through the unsub’s literary work and constructing a geographical profile both gives him something specific to focus on, and — as much as Spencer hates to admit it — keeps him away from Derek.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Hotch asks gently when they both find themselves at the coffee pot in the late afternoon. He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes focused on the stream of coffee and creamer headed straight for his mug. Spencer knows it’s a tactic to make him feel less ambushed and more relaxed, but that doesn’t stop it from working.

“No,” he says honestly.

Hotch nods in acceptance. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes briefly. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

Both JJ and Emily eye him suspiciously throughout the case as well, but no one is more confused and concerned than Derek. Spencer tries not to think about the irony.

“Baby, what’s got you all distracted like this?” Derek asks softly when they’re finally alone in their room that night, full up from the rushed dinner they’d all had in the lobby before crawling to their rooms for a couple of hours’ sleep before the manhunt continues in the morning. “This is so unlike you and you know it.”

Spencer doesn’t reply, just continues quietly changing into his pajamas before brushing his teeth and washing his face. Derek’s still sitting in the same position when he comes out, looking frustrated and contemplative, and Spencer feels guilty for making him feel this way, but he just doesn’t know what to do. He can’t act like everything's okay because it isn’t, and he’s tired himself out from pretending that it was for weeks, now. But he can’t tell him what’s going on either.

The thing is, how is Spencer supposed to admit that he’s still hurt over something that happened almost five years ago now? And how is he supposed to admit that Derek doing the right thing is only reopening wounds he’d tried so hard to heal and close? That both Derek and Hotch had specifically helped him heal and close?

He doesn’t know how to verbalise his feelings without sounding petulant or pathetic, so he doesn’t. He keeps them buried deep inside him and hopes desperately that no one comes digging.

“I’m fine, Derek,” he lies again, leaning down to kiss him gently before rounding the bed and crawling under the covers. “Just having an off day, I guess.”

Derek sighs but doesn’t push any further, clearly knowing a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he follows in Spencer’s footsteps and gets ready for bed silently, whispering a quiet good night before switching off the lamp and climbing into bed on the other side.

It feels like the expanse of white sheet between them goes on for miles.

It’s the first time Spencer’s regretted Hotch’s decision to continue letting them share a room.

The question continues to plague him over the next week. He gets marginally better at pretending he’s not falling apart at the seams, and it’s enough to make almost everyone back off, but Hotch is still concerned and Derek is still confused, and he can feel himself drifting further away from the team each day, as though his rope tying him to the others has been cut, and now the current is having its way with him.

Nothing much changes. He continues in his hurt and lonely quietude, and Derek continues to ask what’s wrong, sighing sadly when he gets nothing out of him, and they exist in tandem.

It had always felt — ever since the beginning of their relationship — as though their relationship was a salsa dance. They were tangled in one another’s lives, both physically and emotionally, and they existed in this relaxed kind of ease that Spencer’s only ever seen before in long-term relationships. They’d fallen into a lucky, easy kind of love, and it was never as much work as everyone had promised him a relationship would be.

They’ve been together for four years, and their worst fight was over whether the cheese grater went in the cupboard next to the sink or above it. (Granted, it had spiraled into some other disagreements that came along with cohabitation, but. Still.)

Spencer knows he’s introducing a dynamic they’re unused to, and he hates it. Guilt plagues him, mingling with his shame and sadness until he’s drowning under the weight of it, no way to claw himself to the surface to take a breath.

They exist on parallel lines: next to one another; yet never crossing over. Their relationship is no longer a salsa dance.

The next off-day they have, Derek can’t get out the door fast enough. “I’m off to visit Erin,” he tells Spencer, and it still makes him irrationally angry that he’s stopped calling her Strauss and now refers to her like a friend.

Is it better that Strauss is now Derek’s friend? Him helping someone he actually cares about makes him not caring about Spencer all those years again slightly less of a gut-punch, he supposes. But the fact that Derek and Strauss of all people are becoming closer while he and Spencer drift apart hurts in a way he can’t even begin to explain.

This time, he spends the entire day crying. Every time the tears slow down and he catches his breath, another wave of grief and pain and anxiety and shame and jealousy crashes over him, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe again. It’s an exhausting cycle, and by the early afternoon his stomach muscles are aching and his ribs feel bruised.

It’s also the first day he gets a craving.

He’s an addict, right, he’s had periods of intermittent cravings over the years, that’s completely normal. Sometimes, even thinking about it in passing is enough for the itch to come back, to whisper the number of his old dealer in his ear, to recall in both his physical and mental memory the feeling that came with each press of the syringe.

This is the most intense one since his withdrawal immediately after waking up in hospital following his accidental overdose in his parking garage. It’s so intense that it scares him.

Crying harder than he thought it possible, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and — fighting the temptation to type in the digits of his dealer — he dials the number he’s had memorised since he was nineteen. He can’t speak through his gut-wrenching sobs, but he knows the sound of him crying this hard will be enough, so he lies in bed and continues his pity party until he hears the front door swing open and the rapid steps through the hall.

Soon enough, Hotch is pulling him into his arms and he finally feels a little less alone.

Hotch lets him cry himself out, and only when his tears have dried up and the hiccups have subsided does he say anything besides the reassuring murmurs he’d spoken into Spencer’s ears as he cried.

“Spencer,” he says — somewhat desperately — “please. You have to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let you suffer on your own anymore, I promise.”

Spencer doesn’t raise his head from its position buried in Hotch’s t-shirt, but he does finally say something. He doesn’t know what overrides the shame that’s kept him quiet — maybe it’s the exhaustion or the loneliness finally winning out — but whatever it is, he’s glad it does.

“I had a craving today,” he whispers, because it seems like a good place to start. “Haven’t been feeling good since, uh. Since… Strauss.”

It’s hopelessly phrased, but it’s the best way he can explain it and Hotch, being the miracle profiler and father figure of Spencer Reid, figures it out instantly.

He feels the way he slumps slightly, hears the tired, frustrated sigh, and knows he’s probably beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”

Hotch shushes him. “You don’t need to apologise for that, Spencer, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry for being so blind, and I am. I hate that you’ve been suffering like this and we’ve all been too stupid to realise why.”

“It still, it still hurts,” he says quietly, sadly, regretfully, “it still hurts that no one helped me until it was almost too late. But everyone dropped everything to help Strauss— I’m sorry, it’s so selfish, I shouldn’t be—”

“Hey, Spence,” Hotch interrupts him, caressing his arm gently. “It isn’t selfish. It’s human. And you’re right, we should have helped you sooner and it’s always been my greatest regret that we didn’t, and that because of that dereliction of duty, we almost lost you.”

“I’m not, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything—”

“Spencer, I know that. But you need to stop feeling guilty for how you feel, alright? It makes complete sense that this is bringing up both the feelings of rejection and betrayal, and also cravings for the drug you were addicted to at the time. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. “Derek’s been visiting Strauss on our days off,” he admits quietly. “I’ve barely seen him for almost a month now, and that— it isn’t helping.”

“I can understand that. Have you talked to him about any of this?” he asks, even though Spencer’s sure Hotch already knows the answer.

He shakes his head.

“I know it’s hard, Spence, I really do, but I think you need to talk to him. Obviously, it would’ve been better if both he and I had figured it out without you having to tell us, but clearly, he isn’t going to realise by himself. I know that as soon as you explain it, he’ll understand completely.”

Spencer sighs. Some part of him had known this was coming, he just didn’t know how it would come about. He wouldn’t have put money on Hotch being involved, but maybe he should have done. He always seems to come to Spencer’s rescue.

“He’ll probably be out for a while. He usually stays out for hours when he goes to visit her.”

“Well, how about I stay until he comes home, and then you can talk to him? How does that sound?”

Spencer looks up at him. “What about Jack?”

“He’s out with a friend and their family anyway,” Hotch reassures him, smiling as he runs a hand down his arm. “Now how about I make you some tea and we go and sit on the sofa?”

Spencer reluctantly agrees and moves from the safety of his bed to the comfort of his sofa, but he has to admit that the light streaming in from the big bay window and the feeling of sitting up makes him feel just a little better straight away. Once Hotch is back and placing a cup of chamomile tea into his hands, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.

“I have to ask, Spencer,” Hotch says carefully, “did you buy any dilaudid? Or attempt to contact your dealer?”

“Thought about it,” he admits, not meeting Hotch’s concerned eyes, “but I didn’t.”

Hotch relaxes. “Good. I’m proud of you, you know.”

Spencer looks at him with a hesitant smile that only grows when Hotch beams back.

They spend the afternoon watching nature documentaries — and Spencer admittedly dozes through a lot of them, exhausted from the burden of carrying so much pain around and the physical exertion of crying so hard — until Derek comes home at just gone five thirty.

“Hotch?” he asks, confused, and his voice wakes Spencer up from one of his unintentional naps.

He scrambles to sit upright, going inexplicably red at the thought of what he knows is coming. For some reason, he feels like he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off. He hates that this is what his relationship with Derek has come to.

“Hi, Derek,” Hotch says, squeezing Spencer’s ankle and getting up from the sofa. “Spencer asked me to come over earlier” — which is a bit of a stretch when really Spencer sobbed into the phone until Hotch showed up — “and I was just keeping him company until you came home.”

Derek’s eyebrows only furrow further, looking between them, confused. “Right.”

“Spencer,” Hotch says, meeting his eyes, “are you okay if I go now? You’ll tell Derek what we talked about?”

Immediately, Spencer blushes red as Derek’s scrutinising eyes fixate on him, but he nods and smiles weakly at Hotch, following him with his eyes as he lets himself out, if just to avoid meeting Derek’s.

“Pretty boy?” Derek says cautiously, slowly taking off his jacket and approaching the sofa like Spencer’s a wild animal liable to be spooked away at any given moment. He supposes it’s probably quite a good analogy, actually.

Spencer shifts nervously in his seat, moving his legs out of the way to give Derek more room to sit down on the sofa.

“You finally gonna tell me what’s been up with you these last few weeks?” Derek asks, and Spencer isn’t oblivious to the hope in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you, baby.”

Spencer nods and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. He’s told one person, and it went fine— it went well, actually. Derek is his life partner, his soulmate, and they tell each other everything. He just needs to start at the beginning. He needs to tell him all of the disclaimers, remind him that he’s not angry at him for doing the right thing or for being the compassionate person he is, he just needs to— He needs to focus, and he needs to tell the truth.

“I called Hotch earlier because I was scared of myself,” he says, finally opening his eyes and looking into Derek’s. “I was having some of the most intense cravings I’ve had since being sober, and I was seriously considering calling my dealer, but I managed to call Hotch instead, and we talked about how I’ve been feeling.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Derek says regretfully, his face melting into the very picture of apologetic as he scoots a bit closer on the sofa so he can grab Spencer’s legs and pull them over his lap.

“I know,” Spencer replies, ignoring for now that him not being here is why they have a problem in the first place. He moves on. “I’ve been… struggling… over the last month or so with feelings that I haven’t really known how to rationalise or explain, and when I finally did make sense of them, I felt that I couldn’t share them with anyone, which is why I’ve been so distant and private. And I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

Derek just smiles, caressing his bare ankle with one hand as he rests his other over his shin.

He pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts, but before he can think about it too hard, the words come spilling out, unbidden. “I’ve found it hard to reconcile your attentiveness and willingness to throw everything at helping Strauss, and the way no-one helped me with my addiction back in 2007.”

Derek’s face instantly falls, and saying the words out loud brings all the emotions he’d managed to control back again in full force, and suddenly his face is crumpling, too. Derek surges forward, moving them both until he’s situated between the sofa cushions and Spencer, cuddling him as close as he can while Spencer cries into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as he begins to cry as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything then and I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together to realise why you were struggling so much. I can’t believe I was so oblivious, Spence, oh God.”

They lie there for a long time, crying together as Derek runs his hands through Spencer’s hair and Spencer clings desperately to the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt.

“I was just feeling so distant from you because we weren’t spending as much time together, and I had no idea how to admit that I was feeling hurt about something that happened almost five years ago,” he continues when they’ve both calmed down again, and they’re ready to resume the conversation. “I guess I just felt… ashamed of both my feelings now and being jealous, which is so ridiculous, I had no idea how to tell anyone how I was feeling. And I’m so sorry that my lack of communication affected us so much.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry that I was hurting you when I should’ve known the effect my actions would have. This whole mess is on me for so many reasons.”

“Der, I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says insistently, urgently, looking at him imploringly. “You’ve apologised enough for what happened back then, and there’s no way we can change what happened. You were just being the same kind and compassionate person you always are when you were helping Strauss.” He reaches out and cups Derek’s face gently, hating the tells of guilt and self-loathing he can see all over it.

Derek sighs and moves Spencer’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his palm. “When I was sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to wake up,” he explains, “I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I would never let anyone down like that again. I was never going to stand back and watch anyone else I knew fall into the same trap you did. So when I realised Strauss had a drinking problem, all I saw was an opportunity to keep that promise.

“The only problem was that I was so wrapped up in doing the right thing in helping her that I wasn’t doing the right thing by you. I should’ve realised all the feelings, physical and emotional, that this would bring up for you, but I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, baby boy, I really am.”

Spencer cuddles back into Derek, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and relaxing into the reassuring scent of his person. “I know, Der. I forgive you.”

“How about we order in some Thai for dinner from your favourite restaurant and watch some Doctor Who?” Derek suggests after a couple of minutes of silence. “I think we’re long overdue for some quality time together.”

Spencer smiles at him, feeling so much of the heaviness that’s been weighing him down over the last few weeks lift that he feels almost like he’s floating. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

They set the living room up to be as cosy as possible, lighting the candles Penelope had made for them and using only their soft lamps to light the room, before piling the couch high with blankets and pillows until they’re cuddled together in a little nest.

The evening is spent eating their favourite food and watching their favourite season of Doctor Who, and while Spencer’s still hurting and they still have healing to do, this feels like a damn good start.

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer whispers to Derek late into the night, when they’re close to falling asleep in the comfort of their blanket pile.

Derek turns to him, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“You made a mistake when you let things get bad with my addiction back in 2007,” Spencer explains, “and when you saw someone headed down the same path, you stopped at nothing to make sure you didn’t make that mistake again. If anything shows me how much you regret not doing anything sooner, it’s your devotion to Strauss’ recovery.”

Derek smiles at him, his eyes a little watery, and holds his chin gently as he leans in to kiss him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”

Spencer kisses him again before cuddling back into his side. “I know you do, Derek. And I love you, too.”

And really, when it comes down to it, that’s enough.

Ahhh, this was the first fic in forever that actually felt fairly easy to write thank GOD. I loved this concept and writing that good, good angst was so much fun. Plus, we always love a happy ending in this house! Also, a reminder that how other people when you confront them with the way they hurt you or made you feel is not your responsibility.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (add yourself to my taglist here!)

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ghost-ghost-baby · 4 years

Text

I’ll put a spell on you (Yandere!Omega!Izuku x alpha!Reader)

inspo was strange and beautiful (I’ll put a spell on you) by aqualung

a/n: boy oh boy,,,, this one is uh,,, 2k words,,,,

Summary: You were taking too long! What could Izuku do except find a spell to help speed things along?

You and Izuku have been roommates for years, but you’re convinced he doesn’t like you and he’s determined to make you his.

warnings: big yandere themes,,, omegaverse obvi,,,, kinda drugging??? idk,,,, its a love spell but reader is already very in love w izuku just stupid aye,,,, very very mild nsfw themes,,,, cuts out b4 it gets too graphic, swearing, bonding, you get the picture,

“Seriously, Katsuki, you’ve gotten way too confident over the years. Was it because you needed a reminder of what it’s like to lose?” Your eyes scanned the blonde, eyebrow quirked as he struggled, “I can’t believe Shinso was right.” It was easy to block out the screams, your quirk always came in handy, even if it was just to shut him up, Rubbing your hands on your pants you turned around, eyes landing on the only other person.

“Oh, good luck Midoriya!” You grinned, giving a small wave before you ran off.

You saw more of Izuku after that, the omega always seemed to be upgrading his costume, and Hatsume had almost killed you when he’d asked you to help with the designs. It was hard not to get close to the guy, and you’d tried your best! You didn’t have time for… for people! You needed to focus on your inventions. But Izuku was persistent, and you’d soon found yourself sitting with him and his friends at lunch. You weren’t the only alpha of the group, Iida and Todoroki shared your dynamic, a fact that didn’t seem to bother anyone. You were glad, you’d never really cared about dynamics, it was nice to be around people who shared that sentiment. You’d all graduated now, and surprisingly you and Izuku ended up sharing an apartment, you did work in the same area, it made sense at the time.

“Are we still having dinner tonight?” Izuku peered into the bathroom, slight frown on his features as he observed you getting ready.

“Yeah of course man, it’s just a lunch date so I’ll be back early.” You shrugged, using your quirk to bring your jacket over.

“You could just ask me to get you your jacket.” Izuku shook his head, watching as the clothing floated over, bubble popping as your hand made contact.

“I know, it’s just a habit, I’ve always used it for little things.” You smiled as you put your jacket on, ruffling Izuku’s hair as you walked past. He was always fussing over you, or cooking, asking if you needed anything. It was cute, but you’d die before you admitted it.

“I’ll be back before you know it, text me if you need anything.” You absentmindedly pressed a kiss to Izuku’s hair, waving before the door shut behind you.

“And you’re sure this’ll work?” Izuku frowned as he flipped the bottle in his fingers, it seemed too good to be true.

“Just like the label says, omega, it’ll make anyone fall in love with ya! As long as there’s already a spark, of course! And it could trigger… their time of the month. So watch out for that!” The lady smiled at him, dark purple hair framing her face. Her eyes matched, although the purple was much, much brighter, and almost seemed to glow. Izuku nodded, grabbing the cash out of his wallet and quickly passing it over before he said goodbye. He didn’t want to be caught there, what would the press say? What would you say?

You ended up getting home late, much, much later than you planned. You’d run into friends on the way home, you hadn’t seen them in ages and well… you’d never been good at saying no. You’d texted Izuku, but he hadn’t responded, and maybe you’d stayed out later to avoid his wrath.

“God, I’m gonna have to do something to make up for this… something good.” You mumbled as you walked into your apartment, hands running through your hair as you looked around.

“Izuku? Honey I’m home!” You called, trying to lighten the tension you felt in the room. It didn’t work, and your heart was in your throat as you put your bag down. You hated disappointing people, and Izuku was always so good to you.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want anything.”

“”Oh actually I’m uh… not hungry…” You trailed off as you walked into the kitchen, Izuku turning around from making something to look at you.

“Did you eat while you were out?” You must be crazy, there’s no way that was an edge to his voice.

“No actually! I just haven’t had any appetite lately.”

“You know you need to try and eat even when you have no appetite. I made tea.” Just like that his voice was back to it’s usual tone, and he sat down in front of you, pushing a mug towards you.

“Yeah I know. Thank you Izuku, you’re always so good to me. I’m so sorry about missing dinner but I ran into my friends coming home and they dragged me out and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Y/n, we can have dinner tomorrow, just finish your tea and we’ll get you into bed, okay?”

You were too drunk to disagree.

You felt weird when you woke up. You weren’t hungover, but something was wrong. Was Izuku okay? Wait, why were you- you should make sure he’s okay. You were only in a shirt, you didn't remember changing last night, did Izuku help you? You barely remembered anything after you’d come home, you’d just talked, drank the tea, and then it was blank. The tea had been really good, it was weirdly sweet though, you had to admit.

“Izuku? Are you awake?” You padded into the kitchen, squinting at how bright it was.

“Of course, it’s already two, I didn’t want to wake you up.” You sighed when Izuku was there, safe and happy as he always was.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just… hungover or something.” You slid into a chair, eyes trained on the omega as he pushed a banana and some water in front of you. “They’re good for hangovers.”

“Thanks ‘Zu”

“You’re going out?” You couldn’t keep the surprise from your voice, Izuku rarely went out unless he was working.

“Yeah just a work thing! I’ll be back in no time!” The omega came over to where you were on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket because you still felt off. “Unless you need me to stay?”

“No of course not! I’ll be fine, it’s probably just a bug.” You did your best to smile, letting your friend hug you. He was about to pull away when you let your cheek brush against his scent gland, the action making you blush while Izuku smiled.

“I’ll see you when I get back!”

This was awful, you’d been tortured, kidnapped, forced to deal with Katsuki, but this was far worse. You couldn’t explain it, but as soon as Izuku was out of your sight your anxiety had skyrocketed, and as much as you tried to fight it, you were pacing in front of the door. He should be back by now, or he should have texted! What if he’d gotten hurt, he didn’t tell you who he was going out with, what if-

“Yeah Todoroki I’m okay, he was worse off than me anyway!” Your heart soared at Izuku’s voice and you were wrenching the door open without a second thought. A snarl ripped out of you when you took in your omega, sporting a few grazes and a bruised jaw that had not been there when he left.

“What the fuck happened?” Your tone didn’t even sound like you, you sounded feral. Your hands quickly reached out, pulling Izuku into a hug and growling when Todoroki tried to say something. “You can leave, I’ve got him now.”

Straight to your room was where you headed, gently sitting Izuku on the bed before you grabbed your first aid kit. Thank god it was only light injuries, you didn’t know what you’d do if something worse had happened.

“Who did this?”

“Just some random alpha tryna get too handsy, he’s in far worse shape than- are you okay?” Izuku’s tone turned concerned as you let out another growl, halfway through bandaging his hand. You couldn’t speak, you just needed to focus on this and- huh? Izuku was running his fingers through your hair, the action almost made you purr, surprisingly calming you down enough to finish patching him up.

“I should have gone with you, I should have-” “Hey, Y/n, you couldn’t have done anything, it’s okay.” Izuku pulled you up to his level and you nodded, unable to stop how your hands shook. Izuku was so close, and he smelled so good, you just wanted to-

“Did you just lick me?” Izuku looked at you with wide eyes, only now taking in how lidded your own eyes were. A low growl bubbled up before you could stop it, and you were pushing the omega down on the bed and straddling him without a second thought. This had happened because of you. If you’d claimed Izuku sooner people would know he was yours, and he wouldn’t have to defend himself. Your teeth were an inch from Izuku’s neck when you pulled back, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

“I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what-”

“I don’t want you to stop, please Y/n.” Izuku’s cheeks were tinged pink, and god why’d you have to sit right on his hips? You could already feel him getting hard.

“Oh god, did I send you into heat? Fuck I’m sorry, I’ve been on suppressants I didn’t real-” You started, it was taking everything you had not to lose it. Izuku looked so pretty, pupils blown out and cheeks already flushed. Why hadn’t you done this sooner? Fuck. You slowly leant down, willpower decreasing by the second, and then your lips were on his. A whimper left you at how good he tasted, you’d never tasted anything this good before! You wanted more! Izuku was made for you, this only proved it. You loved him so much.

Why did your neck hurt so bad? The last thing you remembered was Izuku being injured and you patching him up. A whine made you open your eyes, disbelief shooting through you when you saw Izuku. He was covered in scratches and bites, only wearing your shirt, and sporting a bright red bite on his scent gland. Oh fuck, panic set in as you sat up. This was bad, even for you. You'd done it now, he'd want nothing to do with you. God what had happened to you last night? You were always in control, and as memories of how Izuku had sounded the night before wormed into your brain you couldn't stop your whole body flushing. The omega let out another whine, snuggling closer to your side as if he could sense how stressed you were. Well, he probably could now, the two of you were bonded. You'd completely ruined his life with your selfishness, bonds were incredibly hard to break and the pair would never be the same again. But you couldn't make him stay with you. Oh he'd want to move out wouldn't he? How could he not? You'd completely betrayed his trust and acted like every asshole alpha you hated so much. You should move too, maybe to America? Somewhere far away where you wouldn't bother anyone. Warmth stung your eyes and you realised you'd been crying, how much more pathetic could you get? Izuku was the one who should be upset! You'd ruined his life! Arms wrapped around you as you let out a sob, immediately trying to push the omega away, maybe you should just kill yourself and sever the bond like that- Then at least he’d be able to find someone he actually wanted to be with.

“Alpha… why’re you upset…?” Izuku yawned as he sat up, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, or look at him. The worry you could sense through the bond made your stomach turn, you didn’t deserve his concern! You were horrible, you were-

“Alpha, c’mon, look at me… please?” Izuku’s voice broke and you turned to look at him, eyes zoning in on the mark you’d left on his neck.

“I’m sorry- I triggered your heat and- and betrayed your-”

“Y/n, I love you, I wanted this, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Izuku cooed, pulling your head to his chest and running his hands through your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was like a weight lifted off of your chest, like all the puzzle pieces fit together, he was all you’d ever need.

“I love you too, Izuku.”

#omegaverse #omegaverse x reader #bnha omegaverse #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #omegaverse imagine #omega izuku #alpha reader #yandere izuku #yandere x reader #yandere bnha #omega izuku x reader #yandere izuku x reader

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quindolyn · 4 years

Note

Please can i request a smut with young sirius black where the reader is very insecure and dosen't think she deserves him. Where he praises her and shows her just how pretty he thinks she is. Could you include daddy kink, praise kink and pet names if you are comfortable with that?

(also thank you for the sympathy Chinese food)

Worthy || Sirius Black

Word Count: 3,654

Notes: Not quite sure how I feel about this, I feel really out of it and have felt like that for a couple of days. I hope you enjoy it though anon, usually I post the request then the piece but doing that makes my blog kind of cluttered and I know I think it’s cleaner when people answer requests like this but I don’t know if I’m going to stick with it.

Warnings: insecure!reader, mad Siri for like 2 seconds, oral (female receiving), praise kink, daddy kink, petnames

Masterlist

“Siri we need to talk.” Yes, be blunt, be straightforward, no beating around the bush. You weren’t going to prolong this any longer than necessary. It was time to set Sirius free, he didn’t need someone like you holding him down, holding him back. And it was time you told him that.

“Yes, poppet?” He quirked an eyebrow, setting his book next to him on the plush couch of the Gryffindor common room.

“I-I was hoping we could have this conversation in private, in your dorm maybe?” You shifted your weight from foot to foot, your anxiety causing bile to rise in your throat, threatening to make you sick all over Sirius’s shoes.

“Everything okay (Y/N)?” He asked you, his eyes swimming with concern as he ushered you up the stairs to his dorm, a hand resting protectively on the small of your back.

You didn’t answer him, instead going to sit on his bed once you reached the dorm room, toeing at the fringe of the worn carpet that had probably been there for decades, keeping your eyes on your feet instead of meeting the raven haired boy’s eyes. Leaving them instead to gaze at the top of your head.

“(Y/N/N)? Are you okay? You’re scaring me.”

Breathing in deeply you steeled yourself, straightforward, get this over quickly, “We need to break up Sirius.”

“What?” You winced, he sounded angry and you were sure that had you been able to meet his eyes they could’ve portrayed his anger as well.

“I said that we nee-”

“No, I heard you!” He growled, his hands balling into fists, “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t want to break up with you, don’t I get a say in this?”

“Well I want to, Sirius, and last I checked it took two people to make a relationship work, we can’t make this work if I don’t want to!” You yelled, finally raising your head to meet his visage and your heart broke.

Sirius looked heartbroken, betrayed, horribly sad, and angry. And for a second you regretted telling him that you wanted to break up in the first place.

Because you didn’t want to, you had to, for Sirius.

“That’s bullshit (Y/N)! Who is it?”

“Sirius?” You asked incredulously, what did he mean ‘who’?

“Who have you been cheating on me with? Who the fuck?” In his anger he picked up a book abandoned on your nightside table, throwing it onto the floor.

“W-What?” You stuttered, trying to keep your tears at bay.

Sirius growled, literally baring his teeth like a feral dog, “You heard me, who the fuck are you cheating on me with? Diggory? Snape?”

“I’m not- I didn’t- I-” You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in attempts to calm yourself before continuing, “I didn’t cheat on you Sirius, I would never. This is just what’s best for you.”

“How can not being with you be best for me? I don’t wanna not be with you! Why can’t you get that through your head?” He sounded more desperate now than he did angry now, almost as if he could tell that there was something off with you and your motivations behind your hurtful words.

“You are so much better than me Sirius! You’re wonderful, and you’re smart, you excel in our subjects without even trying, you’re charismatic and witty and just plain funny! Not to mention that you’re drop dead fucking gorgeous, and I’m- I’m not. You’re everything Siri, you’re my moon and my sun and my stars, you’re the whole fucking galaxy and you deserve at least that much. And god damn it, Sirius! I’m nothing! You deserve someone half as wonderful as you are, I’m barely a fraction of a percent.” Your voice broke more at the end than you would’ve liked.

You watched as Sirius’ face fell, his bottom lip wobbling as tears flooded his eyes, which once swam with anger were now drowned in guilt and sorrow. “Puppy,” He sniffled, pulling you up into my arms as he buried his face into your neck, “Puppy, I never meant to make you feel like that. You’re everything, my love, you’re wonderful and perfect for me. I love you so much, I’m so sorry I wasn’t good enough at showing you that.” His grip tightened on you with each word until you could feel him constricting your blood flow.

“S’not your fault Siri, you’re just so much better than me. I feel so bad holding you back.”

He pulled away from you, finally allowing you to properly inhale, cupping your face in his strong hands, tilting your head up so he could look directly into your eyes.

“You, my love, do not hold me back, you propel me forward every day and make me strive to be a better man for you. Please don’t leave me, baby, not because of this, not because you think I deserve better. I don’t even deserve you, especially if I haven’t made you feel as great as you are.”

You were an idiot. This man loved you, maybe almost as much as you loved him. You couldn’t just leave him, but you also couldn’t stay and continue to hold him back. What the fuck were you supposed to do?

“Siri,” A sob tumbled from your lips as you threw yourself at his toned chest, letting your tear stained cheeks rest against the soft material of his shirt, “Siri I- I’m so sorry I love you so much I just- I just…”

“I know love, I know,” Sirius soothed you, petting your hair with one hand, his other arm wrapped around your waist pulling you flush against him. “But you are wonderful, you are the light of my life. Let me show you how stunning you are, how beautiful and gorgeous I think your body is. Let me show you how much I love you.”

“Okay,” You responded, knowing that Sirius would require verbal consent before so much as touching you.

He walked you back until your knees hit against the edge of the bed, easing you down onto the mattress, then pushing your back down so that you were lying on your back, staring up at him through your water logged lashes.

“Look at you baby girl,” He cooed, standing in between your legs, looking down at your form, long curtains of ink black hair falling into his face.

Feeling heat rush to your face you moved your hands to cover it from the intense gaze of your boyfriend.

“Hey there pup,” HIs large hands reached for your wrists, gently pulling them away from your face, pinning them to the bed on either side of you, “There you are pretty girl, don’t hide from me please, wanna see my pretty girl.”

“Sorry,” You murmured.

“Don’t have to apologize to me darling, just want to see you.” He began unbuttoning his black button down, his nimble fingers worked quickly, pulling the buttons out of their holes. As he shrugged his shirt off of his body, revealing the entirety of his upper body to you, you felt your mouth go dry, how were you supposed to compare to that?

In your panicked haze, you didn’t notice Sirius’ fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt until you felt the warm pads of his fingertips dancing along the supple flesh of your stomach. A small gasp escaped your parted lips accompanied by a small wince.

“You’re so soft baby, so soft in my hands,” Sirius praised, allowing his rough palms to slide to your waist where they squeezed gently, “Can I take this off of you?”

After a moment’s hesitation, you nodded your consent, raising your arms above your head so that Sirius could slip the garment off of you, letting it drop to the floor next to his feet. You resisted the urge to fold your arms over your now bare torso as Sirius took his time ogling you, he swallowed repeatedly, sure he’d seen you naked before but your body would never cease to take his breath away.

“Baby,” He crooned, his eyes flying up to meet yours, “Your tits look so pretty in this bra, pretty color on you too, did you buy it for yourself?” Slowly, giving you time to stop him, one of his hands wandered to your clothed breast, giving it a nice squeeze through the lacy pink fabric.

“Uh huh, bought it over the summer with Lily and Marlene,” You answered, watching his face as he observed your heaving chest, feeling suddenly very courageous you spoke again, “You um, you can take it off if you’d like.”

This brought Sirius’ attention from your chest up to your visage, “You sure m’love, don’t have to take it off yet if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” You gulped, eyes wide, mouth dry, “I want to.”

“Arch your back then for me pup,” Sirius’ deep baritone commanded to which you promptly obeyed, allowing Sirius’ hands to slip between your back and the mattress as he expertly undid the clasp in what must’ve been record time before slipping the delicate straps off of your shoulders.

Not giving you time to be embarrassed at your progressing state of undress Sirius surged forward, slotting your lips with his, drinking from you like you were a canteen of water and he had just hiked through the Sahara. He braced himself on his forearms which rested on either side of your head, letting his tongue trace trace the seal of your lips once, twice, three times, he then plunged deep into the velvet of your warm mouth. He was gentle as he mingled his tongue with yours, brushing against yours with his.

You let out a small moan into the kiss which had Sirius’ eyes rolling back in his head, “I wanna show you how much I love you (Y/N),” Sirius murmured into your neck as he pulled away from your lips, instead leaving small kisses down the column of your throat, “We can stop if you want to, but if not I need to show you how special you are. Can I show you?”

You managed a small “Yes Daddy,” as you felt him grin into skin.

He looked up at you, eyes twinkling, “Such a good girl for me pup.”

Much to your vexation Sirius pushed himself off of you but you were settled slightly when you saw him start on the button of his pants before doing the zipper and pulling them down his legs leaving him only in his boxers.

He resumed his position on top of you, gently taking your hand from where it lay on the bed to place it over the soft material of his worn boxers, “You feel that Puppy? You feel how hard my cock is?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“You did that to me!” He beamed down at you, his hair only slightly obstructing his view of you, “That’s how much I love you, how fucking hot you are, got me so hard so quickly, no time at all baby girl and Daddy’s already desperate for you.”

You were unable to prevent the rush of heat to your face at his comment, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell just how flustered he could make you.

With your agreement Sirius finally pulled down your leggings and panties in one fluid motion, gently pulling them off of your feet before he rid himself of his boxers.

“Fuck, love,” He swore before kneeling before you and pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle, “So sexy all splayed out for me on your bed, these legs,” His hands ran up and down your calves before venturing up past your knees to your thighs where they gripped the flesh, not hard enough to bruise but just enough to convey his emotion through his loving touch.

At his repeated praise you felt your wetness beginning to gather in your pussy, a small knot beginning in the pit of your stomach as he traced his lips up your calves, just barely grazing your flesh tickling your skin.

Once he got to your thighs his small kisses became open mouthed, and wet, leaving trails of saliva in his wake as he started leaving dark bruises on your legs. “I love your legs darling, the way they look in your uniform skirt, your leggings, jeans. Love them so much.” He left a soft kiss on the top of your thigh, taking note of the shiver that ran through your body.

Pushing your thighs apart he inched you closer to the edge of the bed, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders allowing him to face your pussy head on. “Gonna make you feel so good baby, you deserve to feel good.”

He moved his arms to pin your hips to the bed, giving him more control in what he was about to do. He parted your folds with his nose, allowing him to inhale your scent.

“You smell heavenly Puppy, one of my favorite things about you, your pussy smells like heaven, and fuck does it taste good.”

As if to prove his point he leaned forward, licking a broad stripe from your hole up to your clit, letting out a moan at your taste. The vibrations from his moan sent shockwaves through your clit, feeding the knot growing in your stomach you clenched your thighs around his head.

He took it as a sign of encouragement and began sucking on your clit, pulling the sensitive nub between his lips he released hums reveling in the way they made your thighs clench around his head.

You clasped one hand over your mouth in attempts to muffle your moans from spilling out into the dorm room. And though it did do a fine enough job at it, not good enough for Sirius not to hear an especially loud whine when he nipped lightly at your clit.

“Puppy?” He raised his head from between your legs, cocking his head to the side like the puppy that had become synonymous with your name, “Wanna hear you please, want to hear the pretty little noises you make when I eat your cunt.”

As he spoke he inserted a single finger into your quivering hole, wanting to stretch you out for his cock which was aching and desperate to be buried deep inside of you. With his other hand, he reached for the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, pulling it away from your face to lay on the mattress where he interlaced your fingers with his, squeezing your hand comfortingly.

Hoping you would follow his instruction and let him hear you he ducked down to return his mouth to your clit, sucking on the nub again without stopping his finger which was still making its way in and out of your hole. Not satisfied that he was making you feel good enough he inserted a second finger into your cunt, stretching you out even more.

Sirius smiled into your pussy when he heard you moan, “Fuck Siri!”

“Come on Puppy,” He pressed a kiss to your hip bone, “That’s not my name, you know it, tell me what my name is good girl.”

“Daddy,” You gasped, thrusting your hips further onto his fingers which still continued their agonizingly slow pace, “Daddy, feels so good.”

“I know baby, I know,” Sirius pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, letting his cheek rest against the soft flesh as he looked up at your writhing, perspiring form, “Gonna stretch you out on one more finger then you should be ready for my cock Pup, one more then I get to be inside of this beautiful cunt.” His gaze drifted to your pussy, which was beautifully swollen for him.

“Please Daddy,” The whimper left your lips with you barely noticing, “Please want your cock.”

“Want to give it to you my love, just gotta get you ready.”

Suddenly feeling the need to be inside of you now, no doubt caused by your begging, he added another finger inside of your cunt, trying not to pay too much mind to the way you clenched around him, afraid that if he did he wouldn’t be able to think straight.

How could someone’s fingers feel so good? The knot in your stomach continued to get tighter and tighter but you still craved more, you needed him inside of you.

Simultaneously you breathed both a sigh of relief and released a bereft whimper as he pulled his fingers from your cunt, making a show of bringing them to his mouth where he licked them clean, closing his eyes in pleasure as your taste bled across his tongue.

“You taste so good Puppy, like candy,” Seeing that you obviously didn’t believe him he leaned down so his body was pressed to your and gently eased your mouth open before collecting spit in his mouth and spitting it into your’s. “See? See how good you taste? My favorite taste in the whole wide world. Swallow for me Puppy,” He grinned as you obeyed, “Good girl,” He praised with a kiss to your forehead.

“Now can you scooch up on the bed for me?” Once you were carefully rested further up on the bed, your head lying on a pillow, Sirius climbed on top of you, lining the weeping head of his prick up with your opening.

You couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips as he fully sheathed himself inside of your heart, the head of his cock prodding at your g spot thanks to the slight curve of the member.

Sirius smiled down at your face which was contorted in pleasure as he guided one of your hands to the base of your stomach, “You feel that? That’s me, that’s how good you take my cock love, I can feel it in your tummy.”

“I can feel it Daddy,” You answered feebly, Sirius’ grey eyes shimmered with adoration and pride as he looked down at your stomach before coming back to meet yours.

“You have the prettiest eyes darling,” He cooed, leaning down to kiss the outer corners of your eyes. He began thrusting in and out of you, his strokes, slow and deep as he took his time pulling out and then pushing back in.

“So wet for me, slid right in because you were so ready for me baby, and now you’re squeezing me so good.” The praises fell from his lips one after another, wanting to broadcast to you his every thought about how perfect and wonderful you were, hoping that maybe something would be able to get through to you.

The feeling of Sirius inside of you was absolutely heavenly, it was a full feeling unlike any other. His width was just enough to stretch you but not enough to cause too much pain, you wrapped your hands around his neck, burying your face in his chest as he continued moving inside of you.

“I love you so much, I love you (Y/N), you are my everything darling,” He slowed down his strokes, taking his time with each, “I’m so sorry I haven’t shown you that, but I love you more than I could ever properly tell you. Love you so much that you’re going to make me cum in an embarrassingly short amount of time.”

The both of you giggled at that, knowing that Sirius was usually able to go for multiple rounds, and the slight clenching around his prick as a result of your laughter did nothing to help matters.

“Could you go a little faster Daddy, please?” You asked timidly, needing more stimulation as the knot in your stomach continued to tighten both at the feeling of Sirius nestled deep inside of you and the flattery he kept serving you.

“Such good manners Puppy,” He took the note quickly, speeding up his thrusts just enough, “Such a pretty girl taking my cock, your pretty hair all splayed out around you, like a halo. Makes you look like the angel you are.”

For some reason his comment had tears ebbing at your eyes, you barely noticed as a few escaped and rolled down your cheeks.

“Puppy, does it hurt? Why are you crying?” Worry was etched across his features as he gazed down at you, ceasing his thrusts.

“I don’t deserve you,” You blubbered, willing the tears to stop, “You’re just too good for me.”

Sirius leaned down, resuming the movement of his hips, kissing the tears off of your skin, “No I’m not, you deserve me Puppy, you deserve me. And I’ll keep telling you until you believe me.”

You used your arms to pull his chest against yours as he sped up his thrusts, trying to convince you that you deserved this, “I-I’m going to cum Daddy, gonna cum. Can I cum Daddy?”

“Of course Puppy, cum for me, be a good girl and make a mess all over my cock. Be my little messy bunny, gonna cum with you.”

He rocked his hips against yours three more times before he exploded inside of you, rope after rope of cum coating the inside of your walls as you released around him. Making a mess just as he’d told you to, feeling the knot in your stomach unravel, perhaps not as intensely as usual but so much better.

Your whimpers of “Daddy” quieted as your pleasure overwhelmed you, drowning you in your orgasm as you continued to clench around Sirius’ cock, hips still bucking to meet his.

In his release Sirius repeated “I love you”, over and over again, chanting it like it was a prayer, like a promise.

“I love you,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your cupid's bow as you unclenched your eyes, “And I’m going to spend the rest of my love showing you just how much.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete

#harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter #the marauders #marauders smut #sirius black smut #sirius black x reader

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poisonedapples · 3 years

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter 2

Craft Projects and Failed Bonding

Chapter Summary: Roman plots against Patton in a way he thinks is threatening.

Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Panic, anxiety, implied past abuse, food mentions, and anxiety over being watched by cameras.

Word Count: 4,533

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22

Notes: Thanks to cornybird on Ao3 for helping me beta this one!

“Virgil, wake up, it’s time for breakfast!”

Roman cracked open his eyes to stare at the door. His security bar was still under the doorknob, and it sounded like Patton walked away to knock on the next kid's door, so Roman slowly lifted himself out of Virgil’s bed once the coast was clear. He hadn’t been asleep for the last two hours, so there was no point to continue lying down and risk Patton trying to get into the room to wake him up. So Roman rubbed his tired eyes to undo the security bar and put it in his backpack.

Though, speaking of his backpack…he had no idea where to put it. It wasn’t safe in Virgil’s room, but Virgil was still sleeping in Roman’s bedroom. He could take it downstairs with him, but that’s a strange thing to do during breakfast, and he didn’t want that to be the conversation opener of the day. Especially if they asked him what was inside. They weren’t allowed to know that.

Eventually, Roman settled on hiding the backpack underneath Virgil’s bed. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, but it’d work until Roman could come back and take it. He opened the door and headed downstairs, praying that he wouldn’t be the first kid to arrive.

The prayer wasn’t enough, because Roman looked around the kitchen and only saw Patton at the stove. Patton looked over at him and seemed confused, trying to hide it behind a chipper smile. “Morning, kiddo! How’d you get dressed so fast? I only knocked on your door a second ago!”

Don’t let him find out you weren’t in your room. “Oh, these are my pajamas, I haven’t gotten dressed yet. And I was already awake, so I just came right downstairs.”

Patton looked Roman up and down, and Roman shivered. “…Do you not have real pajamas, kiddo?”

“No. I like sweatpants better.”

Patton didn’t seem pleased, but he didn’t question it further. Roman sat down at the table and anxiously drummed his fingers while he waited. Eventually, Logan came downstairs fully dressed with his hair brushed, and Virgil followed not long after. His hair was a mess, and his pajamas were twisted like he just fell out of bed and rolled down the stairs to make it in time.

Patton took one look at him and almost gasped. “Virgil, did you sleep last night? You look…a bit rough, to put it lightly.”

Virgil grunted. “I had to clean.”

Patton sighed. “Kiddo, save cleaning for the morning, okay?”

Virgil shrugged, groggily making his way to the coffee machine to try and steal some Patton already made for himself. “Virgil,” Patton chastised, “No coffee. You can go back to sleep after breakfast if you want, but you’re too young for coffee.”

Logan raised his hand. “May I have some?”

“No.”

“Darn.”

“What kinda drink do you want, Roman?” Patton asked. “And don’t say coffee.”

Coffee sounded really nice, actually, but there was no use arguing. “I’ll take milk, then.”

Patton finished emptying the contents of his pan onto some plates before grabbing three cups from the cupboard and filling them up. Two had milk while one had orange juice, and he passed them to each seat at the table. He then passed everybody their plates, with scrambled eggs and a bagel with cream cheese. Roman took his fork and tasted a bite of the eggs.

Holy fuck, Roman hadn’t had something that tasty since his grandma last cooked for him. The eggs were so soft and cheesy, and Roman could barely contain his excitement for it. He put as many eggs as he could fit onto his fork and stuffed it all in his mouth.

Patton laughed when he noticed Roman’s reaction. “Taste good, kiddo?”

Roman hummed, and Patton smiled. “Good! I learned how to make them from my roommate in college, and I haven’t looked back since!”

Roman hoped that roommate taught him how to make a lot more things then, because this was heavenly. He’d finished his entire plate of eggs so fast it was concerning, forgetting all ability to savor his food. Maybe Roman could find the recipe and steal it when Patton wasn’t looking.

Until then, Roman moved on to eating his bagel while everyone else wasn’t even close to finishing breakfast. He guessed that was a good thing. If he finished before everyone else, he could run to Virgil’s room and grab his backpack without anyone noticing. Roman chewed faster at the possibility.

Once again, the table went very silent as everyone ate and Roman tried to make a swift escape. Patton was the one to break the silence this time. “So, Roman,” he said, “How about you and I go to the store today?”

Roman froze. “…Why?”

“I’m sure there’s some stuff you need. School starts again in two days, so we need to get you some school supplies, and maybe we can get some stuff to decorate your room with too!”

“Wait, school starts in two days? I thought it started in two weeks!”

Patton seemed apologetic. “In this district, the first day is this Wednesday. Usually I’d let you stay at home a little longer to get comfortable before school, but I think it’d be easier for you to start the first day when you have the chance. Besides, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you home alone for another week.”

You should leave me here alone, Roman thought. He was a little disappointed he had to go to school sooner than usual, but school was also the best excuse to leave home early and come back late. If he could get involved again in theater, he could hide out and blame his late return times on rehearsals. So maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

Patton interrupted Roman’s internal scheming. “Do you know what kinda supplies you might need, kiddo?”

Roman twirled his cup in his hand and watched the milk spin. “Binders, pencils, folders, notebooks…I only have a backpack, really.”

“We definitely need to stop by the store then! And while we’re there, we can look at all the bedroom stuff too!”

Everything in Roman made him want to decline, to tell Patton to buy him whatever and he’ll make do with what he has. His heart started to pound again, his hand gripping hard on his cup and thinking about his escape options. Then it dawned on him.

They would be going to a store. A store, full of cashiers and moms with kids and plenty of parents who might also need school supplies. If there was anywhere he could be safe while alone with Patton, it was there. And maybe if he agreed, Patton would leave him alone for a while…

“…We can go.” Roman said. Patton’s grin widened and his eyes lit up.

“Great! So, just get ready once you finish breakfast, and we can head out! Logan, you’ll be in charge while Virgil takes a nap.”

Logan nodded, and Virgil almost fell asleep on top of his plate.

Eventually, everyone finished breakfast and put their dishes away, Virgil dragging himself back upstairs and falling into bed without even closing his door. Roman carefully entered his bedroom, darting his eyes between where he hid his backpack and where Virgil was lying.

“What.” Virgil snapped, mumbling it into his pillow. Roman stopped in his tracks.

“I only need to grab my bag, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fuggin’ take it.” Virgil snapped.

Roman grabbed his backpack and scurried out of there, closing the door behind him. It uneased Roman to try to sleep with the door open, so he assumed someone as secluded as Virgil might be the same. It was a little way to show his gratitude for last night.

Roman walked back to his own bedroom after grabbing his backpack. However, once Roman opened the door, he finally understood what Virgil meant by “cleaning”.

The mess Roman made last night was completely gone. The bed was made, the hangers were placed back in the closet, the lightbulb was back in the lamp and the nightstand had been set back up. It was almost like last night was a bad dream that never happened, Roman’s only evidence that it had being the fact that he woke up in Virgil’s room that morning. He looked around the room again to process the change, when he noticed a piece of paper on the nightstand.

Roman picked up the piece of paper and unraveled it.

There’s no cameras in here, I checked. I also fixed your mental breakdown for you. You owe me one.

Virgil

Roman looked around the room, holding the paper tight to his chest as he examined every corner. There wasn’t a single camera in here? Not one? No, no that wasn’t possible. The camera was around here somewhere. Roman knew it.

He looked around again, three times, looking under objects and in the closet, feeling the pit in his stomach grow when all his searches came back futile. He knew it was here somewhere, and he refused to let Patton win. Roman would find it.

He’d just…have to find some other place to sleep until then.

Roman shook his head as a way to erase his thoughts. He could worry about the camera later, but for now, he needed to please Patton’s attempt at getting to know him and get out of this cursed room. Roman still wrapped a blanket around himself as he got dressed, not quite able to shake his anxiety long enough to not take precautions. He changed from his pajamas to a red shirt and baggy jeans, and ran out to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Camera or not, he’d have to find a way to pay Virgil back.

***

“Roman, what’s your favorite color?”

Roman snapped out of his distant stare to look at Patton. He was looking at a display of school binders, pausing for a moment to glance at Roman and wait for an answer. The stare was so much for Roman to process that he took a step back. “Uh…red.”

“Perfect! They’ve got lots of reds!” Patton grabbed a red binder before stopping himself with a thinking expression on his face. “Though, wait, let me check the supplies website…I don’t wanna get a wrong size, or only get one when you need multiple…”

Roman went back to staring at the floor under him. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. It seemed like a great idea at first, but now Roman was here holding himself tight and trying not to cry, feeling the exhaustion set in while his anxiety made him restless. He wanted to go home and sleep, but there was nowhere to sleep. Nowhere to hide.

He’d have to search the house for hiding spots later.

“So,” Patton eventually said, “It doesn’t say exactly, so I’ll just grab a zipper binder and one two inch just in case. If you need more, I can always stop by again and buy some. What’s your second favorite color?”

Roman swallowed to fight back the tears. “Purple.”

Patton smiled. “That’s Virgil’s favorite color! So, one red zipper binder and a purple two inch. So let’s look at the pencil cases now!” Patton caught a glimpse of Roman’s pale face and his smile dropped. “…Are you okay, kiddo?”

Roman nodded. He didn’t trust himself to talk, but it seemed like Patton didn’t trust his answer. He took a step toward Roman, and Roman took two steps back. Patton frowned. “Are you sure?”

Roman nodded again. Patton ran a hand through his hair and looked around the store. Please, let’s just get this over with already.

Patton’s head stopped as his eye caught sight of a specific aisle, and he smiled in Roman’s direction. “Say, kiddo, how about you go check out the fish? I’ll be over here getting the boring stuff if you need me!”

Roman glanced at Patton’s eyes. They were soft and forgiving, but all Roman could feel when looking at them was fear. He took this as his moment, spinning around on his heel and almost sprinting toward the fish aisle. Anywhere was better than being near Patton.

Roman looked at the walls of fish tanks with fish of all kinds of colors, watching them swim around as the filter’s bubbles reached the roof. There were some that were swimming around each other, and others that stopped in place for long periods of time. Roman held himself and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

It was more peaceful away from Patton, at least. Roman felt a little less sick and his hands weren’t shaking as badly, focusing on the fish to calm himself down. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it worked. That’s all Roman could really ask for.

He watched the fish swim around and read their species facts for a while, until he couldn’t feel tears in his eyes anymore and the nausea was tamed. Roman walked through the aisle to look at the fish tank decorations and other pet toys. He picked up a chew toy for a dog and squeaked it, awkwardly messing with the toys and trying to keep Patton in his peripheral vision. It felt odd to be standing around in a pet aisle with no plans of buying anything.

Well, Roman thought, Patton never told me I had to stay in this aisle. It was only a suggestion. I could move on to another part of the store.

Roman looked at where Patton was one more time so he could remember his spot. It seemed like he was checking the supply list on his phone and thinking hard about colored pencils, and Roman hoped he would be occupied with that for a while more. He walked out of the aisle and looked above him for ideas on where he should go next.

Bathroom, no. The bakery would be wonderful if I could buy a donut myself. Clothes, baby items, plants…wait! Roman’s eyes lit up as he read another one of the signs. Hardware!

Roman always loved searching through hardware. He was a craft person at heart, and the aisles always gave him ideas for new things to try and make. Besides, Patton told him they were going to look for decorations for his room, maybe he could get inspiration there!

Roman entered the hardware aisle and began to look around. Because this wasn’t a hardware store there wasn’t much, mostly small items like door hinges and hook sets. There was also a doorknob you could only open with a code that Roman wanted, but there was no way Patton would let him install that. But maybe he could find something else to make his room safer.

Roman passed some other items, including some lightbulbs and a security camera displaying the screen that made Roman shiver when he passed by, but eventually Roman saw it. Ideas swarmed in his head and a big grin bloomed onto his face. It was perfect!

“There you are, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the sound of Patton approaching, looking up to see him with a basket full of school supplies. Patton smiled to hide the worry in his eyes. “I noticed you left the other aisle and I didn’t know where to find you.”

Roman gripped harder onto the box he was holding. “Sorry, I got bored…but I found something I want for my room!”

“You did? What is it, kiddo?”

Roman held up the box to Patton. Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “…Curtain rods?”

“Yes! Sounds strange, I know, but I was thinking that I could make my own canopy bed with them! We could get some curtains and I could hang them up around the bed, and I could decorate the curtains to look beautiful! Please?”

Patton rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t know, kiddo…it sounds like a cool project! But you’d have to install them into the roof, and I’m not very good with a drill!”

“I can do it!” Roman begged, “I’ve installed lots of home stuff before, and I’m really good with tools! And if I mess up I promise I’ll fix any holes, or I’ll do some babysitting jobs to pay back anything that’s broken, just…please? Can I try?”

Patton seemed conflicted. He saw the desperate look in Roman’s eyes and sighed. “…You can try, kiddo. Just…don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work, okay?”

“I won’t be! Promise!” Roman grabbed three boxes of the largest curtain rods they had and tried to hold them under his arms. “Now, I just need some red curtains, and maybe some glittery star stickers, or some other craft supplies! And a hot glue gun, you can make beautiful raindrop decorations out of hot glue!”

Patton seemed like his head was spinning. “I’ll go get an actual cart for this, kiddo.”

And then, the hunt for supplies was on. Patton got a cart for Roman to pile the curtain rods on the bottom, failing to keep up with him as he ran from aisle to aisle searching for supplies for his ideas. All the curtains were too transparent for Roman’s liking, so he instead settled for a pack of red, flat sheets meant for a queen bed and a small pack of sewing supplies. Patton mentioned he had a glue gun at home, so Roman skipped that section of the crafts aisle and instead focused on some birthday decorations with crowns and stars as well as some stickers. The more Roman’s vision came into action, the more excited and bouncy he got.

With the opaque curtains, Roman thought, it doesn’t matter if he has a camera in my room or not. He won’t be able to see me sleep. And how cute, he won’t realize his mistake in letting me do this until it’s too late.

Roman was jumping on his heels at the thought. I’m a genius.

The checkout was long and the car ride was full of anticipation, but once Patton pulled into the driveway of the house, Roman opened the trunk and ran inside with all his items in tow. He didn’t even say hello as he ran past Virgil and Logan on the couch to head upstairs.

“Kiddo, do you want to organize supplies too?” Patton yelled once he entered the house.

“I will later!” Roman answered. He had work to do.

The first step was an experiment of patience. Roman took out all the flat sheets and folded them at the top, sewing the fold with a needle and red thread to make its own custom loop for the curtain rod. It was annoying and tedious, but necessary. Also a test on Roman’s skill of how fast he could hand sew.

He was almost done with the last sheet when a knock came to his door. “Who is it?” Roman asked.

“It’s lunch time, kiddo,” Patton answered, “I called you down a while ago. How about you take a break for some food?”

No. There was no time for breaks. Roman needed this to be done by tonight so he could finally get some sleep. “In a minute.”

“Roman, it’s been a while already. A little break won’t hurt.”

“I will in a minute!” It was a lie, but Roman had the door locked, so there was nothing Patton could do about it. Roman finished his final seam, so now it was onto installing the rods.

Roman was measuring where to put the hooks on the roof when another knock came to the door. Roman groaned like a spoiled brat. “I’m coming!”

“Roman, can you open the door?”

Roman froze. He just yelled at Patton, pushed his luck, now he had to open the door. Roman dropped the screw he was holding as his hands shaked. Shit, shit! “…Why?”

“I’ve got your lunch for you.”

Roman felt his throat close, but ignoring Patton would only make the situation worse. Roman dropped his hook and screws to open the door.

Patton was on the other side, smiling softly with a burrito on a plate and a glass of juice in his hands. “I had to reheat it, but maybe you can eat while you’re working.”

Roman dug his nails into his palm before taking the plate. “Thank you.”

“Can I come in?”

No. No, you can’t. You never can, ever. “…Sure.”

Roman scurried away from Patton to sit on his bed, drinking some of the juice and looking at what’s inside the burrito. Black beans, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, sour cream, onions, and green peppers. Roman took a bite and tried to calm himself by focusing on the taste.

“You like it?”

Roman nodded. “Never had this before.”

“It’s a black bean burrito. I found the recipe a few years ago, and I make them pretty often. Especially for growing kiddos.” Patton sat on the floor next to the mess Roman had laid out. “What are you doing now for your canopy bed?”

“I was gonna screw in the curtain hooks to the roof. I’ve just been sewing the sheets for now, which is the hardest part. I might have to sew them again though, since the sheets are so big I might have to cut them. Especially since I want to do two curtains on each end to make it look pretty.”

“Sounds cool! Do you need any help?”

Roman seemed to be thinking. Maybe if I satisfy him, he won’t be angry. “Do you know how to sew?”

“I know how to repair tears. That’s it.”

Roman took another bite of his burrito and jumped off the bed, picking up one of the sheets to examine the size. He jumped on his bed and held it up to the roof, seeing how far it would stretch. The sheet was much longer than his bed, so it would be perfect. “Take the sheets, measure them, and cut them in half right down the middle. Then I can show you how to do a catch stitch to hem the seam. That will save me some time.”

“You’re very good at hand stuff!” Patton complimented. A shiver went up Roman’s spine.

“…Yes.”

From then on, the environment was very tense. The only sound between either of them was the drill going through the roof and the sound of scissors cutting. When Patton finished cutting, Roman showed him how to hem the seam, but it was quiet again after that. Roman kept his distance and made sure his front was always facing Patton just in case.

“I hope you don’t mind if this is a very messy sewing job, kiddo.” Patton joked.

Roman shrugged. “You won’t be able to see it anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you gonna decorate the sheets once you’ve hung them up?”

“Yes, it’s easier that way. And I can plan it out.”

“Any reason why you chose crowns and stars?”

Roman paused long enough to drill another hook into the roof before setting the drill down to grab another hook. “I like crowns. And stars.”

“Logan loves stars.” Patton really hated silence, apparently. “I don’t know if the other kiddos showed you their rooms, but Logan’s is covered in space stuff. It was really fun to do, actually! Though, I made Logan paint the stars onto his own wall because he kept talking about how it should be accurate constellations, and I don’t know anything about stuff like that.”

“I’ve only seen Virgil’s room.”

“Oh, well, if Logan ever invites you in, know that he did lots of work for his constellation wall!”

Roman hummed and drilled the last hook into the roof. He took a curtain rod and placed it on the two hooks near the foot of his bed. “How many of the sheets have you finished?”

“Oh, I’m still on the first one. I’m learning though!”

Roman jumped off the bed to sit on the floor next to Patton, grabbing his own needle and thread to begin hemming the seam. Once he started sewing, Patton watched him with wide eyes. “You’re doing that very fast, kiddo!”

Roman shrugged. “I’ve done it a lot.”

“What do you usually sew for?”

“Clothes. To fix rips, mostly. My mom also taught me when I was younger.”

Patton seemed taken aback by his explanation. “Did…did you enjoy that time with your mom?”

“I enjoyed all my time with her.” Roman paused. “Well. Most times.”

Patton swallowed. “Most times?”

“Her and I were really close, if that’s what you're asking.” Roman’s hands sped up as he sewed. “She would take me to movies and theaters, and she taught me how to bake as good as her.”

Patton’s voice grew serious. “Well…I’m sorry for your loss, kiddo.”

“She’s not dead.”

“I’m still sorry you lost her.” Patton shook his head and focused more intently on his sewing. “But you said you can bake?”

Roman nodded. “I bake a lot, especially cake. I know how to make red velvet cake from scratch and it is lovely.”

“We should make some tomorrow, then!”

Roman tensed. “Maybe.”

Roman finished off the hem of his side and moved to cut another sheet, hemming both of their sides once he did so. The rest of the time was quiet, with Roman purposely refusing to spark conversation and Patton processing the little information Roman gave him. By the time Patton finished one end and half of another, Roman had finished all the rest and took Patton’s to quickly finish off. Roman laid them all across the floor and opened the packs of crafts he got.

“Well, kiddo, I gotta see about making dinner now.” Patton eventually said, “Tell me how the end project turns out, ‘kay?”

Roman nodded. Finally, he’s leaving. “Close the door when you leave.”

Patton smiled and closed the door on his way out. Roman focused entirely on decorating his new curtains, placing glittery stars and plastic crowns and using the hot glue gun to make crystals draping down the curtains. He repeated a similar pattern for each one, eventually hanging two on each side of the bed so they could open and close down the middle. Once the final project was finished, and the floor of his room was scattered in materials, Roman smiled wide in awe.

“Yes! I did it! I did it!” Roman jumped up and down from excitement, flopping onto his bed and closing the curtains from every side. The curtains were a bit too long and dragged too much along the floor, but he could fix that another day. For now, he’d been at it for hours, and his bed was finally a safe space.

Roman buried his face into his pillow, feeling himself relax as the exhaustion of a whole day with no sleep and debilitating anxiety finally caught up to him. He groggily checked for any cameras on the roof, but that was the only place he had to check for a camera that could see him. He was safe.

Roman crawled under the comforter and closed his eyes. It wasn’t more than five minutes of lying there before he fell asleep, curling into himself and relaxing. Finally, he slept peacefully.

Finally.

#ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #panic #implied past abuse #past abuse #food mention #royality #prinxiety #familial royality #familial prinxiety

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mintmatcha · 4 years

Text

reupload because tumblr decided my readmore link on the original shouldn’t work anymore!!!!

Late Night Chat

MattsunxReader

CW: mentions of depression, established relationship, angst/fluff (happy ending)

You know Mattsun’s awake before he even speaks. The way he’s lying- face up, hands neatly folded in his stomach- is so strangely stiff compared to usual, it makes your skin crawl with worry. It’s cold without Issei wrapped around you, without his soft steady breathing, without his nose buried into your hair. You can hear the soft sound of fingernail against skin and, even with sheets and night shrouding him, you can tell he’s picking at his hang nails again. Your eyes dart to check the clock. 3:14. Has he slept at all?

“Can I talk to you about something? It’s important.” the shake in his voice, the unfamiliar tremor that immediately shakes off the cobwebs of sleep, tells you he can’t wait until morning. You turn, admiring how the ambient light peeking through your blinds from the street below catches his profile. His brows are knitted together, lip is caught between his teeth. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, something about the soft orange glow, but he seems older now, almost worn.

This is unfamiliar territory. Mattsun is always so nonchalant with his feelings, so dismissive about any sort of concern. It was rare to see him upset about anything; in fact, you could count the number of times he was anything other than pleasant on one hand. If you noticed a distant look and heavy sigh, Mattsun would consistently dismiss your concerns with a peck and a hollow laugh. The laugh. It made your brain buzz with worry whenever he pulled it out. It was high and tinny, obviously practiced. He was a bad liar, you knew something was weighing him down from the droop of his shoulder, from the scabs on his nail beds, but it seemed wrong to press further. Every time you did, he would retreat further from you, reinforcing his facade, hiding behind a wall impossible to break.

“Of course, Issei.” you murmur, somehow feeling if you raised your voice louder than a whisper, you would break the spell.

“I just.. Sometimes.” His eyes shift to meet yours, then dart back to the ceiling, like he was caught breaking some unspoken rule. “Ah, geez, can you turn around, maybe? I can’t say it when you’re looking at me.”

Your own anxiety is building, fears that you can’t quite form into tangible thoughts squirming around in your head, but you oblige, turning face the wall. He shifts as well, mirroring you. Pressing his back against you, he loops a leg between yours, tangling himself. You turn your head slightly, catching only the outline of his shoulder against the darkness.

“Hey, no peeking.” With every breath he presses farther into your back, searching for the comfort of your presence. Silence weighs heavy between you and, for a second, you fear that the moment has passed- that Mattsun has retreated back into his shell. “I just wanted to let you know…”

He breathes out slowly as he pulls the blanket closer to him.

“Sometimes, I get sad.” he’s almost swallowing his words, trying his hardest not to be heard, face pressed against the pillow. The soft picking sound of his nails against skin grows faster as he continues. “Like, really sad. So sad my body aches ‘nd my brain feels numb.. And there’s no reason to feel like that, but I do.”

You resist the urge to turn over, instead just tilting your head back into the space between his shoulder blades. He only hums at the contact before continuing.

“It’s just hard.” he continues. His voice is so unusually delicate, teetering on the brink of breaking. “Because sometimes I- I- god, it sounds so stupid,” he hisses out ‘stupid’ like it’s a curse. “but I get so tired. I can’t even bother to do basic shit some days. It’s pathetic.

“ They said the meds would help, and they do mostly, but sometimes it still feels like there’s this- this- blanket over my head, weighing me down and I just wanna lay down and sleep. But, I’m trying not to be like that, for you, ‘cause-."

“Can I look at you now?”

Mattsun snaps his jaw shut so hard that the sound makes you jump. “Fuck. Not yet, I just-” Silence lulls over him before he draws in a shaking breath. Mattsun rolls over carefully, enveloping you in his long limbs. One arm drapes over your chest limply, as if he’s afraid to hold any tighter. You lift your head instinctively to let him prop his arm underneath, but instead his fingers find your hair. He twirls a loose strand between his fingers, inspecting the way it moves with almost too much curiosity. He’s distracting himself, you decide. Even though he’s next to you again, the comforting feeling of warmth against your skin back, he feels so far away. “I just wanna say a little more. I can’t say it if you’re looking at me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to look disappointed.” he breathes, “And that’s gonna hurt me.”

Instinctively, you begin to move again, but the way Mattsun recoils, fingers flexing, shoulders bunching, reminds you of the boundaries. “Issei, why would I ever be-?”

“Because…” he grumbles, trying to gather his words, “I’m going to keep talking and you’re going to realise you’re too good for me. That I’m not as good as you think I am.

His hand flexes into a fist, resting under the soft dip of your breast, with a heavy sigh. “I just wanted to let you know now.” he says finally. “Before you, like, plan a future with me or something.”

“Issei, don’t say that.” you whisper, placing a hand over his. He tenses for a moment, before pulling you into him, tucking his knees into the backs of yours.

“I’m sorry.” he says to the hair in between his fingers as he continues his ministrations.

“Issei.” strain your neck to see him, searching his surprisingly flat expression for…. Something. Anything. "Can I please turn around now?”

Mattsun answers by relaxing his grip, giving you the freedom to roll into his chest and clutch at the fabric of his shirt. For a split second, you’re acutely aware of how he smells- the lavender body wash you had bought him to replace the 3-in-1 he used to love, the dryer sheets that he always uses too many of, and, underneath it all, the scent of him. Breathing deep, you nestle further into him. Despite how composed he managed to keep himself, his heart betrays him; you can feel the way his heartbeat tattooed across his skin even through his clothing. You open to speak, but words fail you.

Instead, you tug on his shirt and in the dim, you can see his eyes widen ever so slightly as he comes to you. With only the tilt of your head, your lips meet, only slightly off the mark from each other. The kiss is sloppy, disjointed and desperate, barely clinging on to each other. His breath, hot against your face, hitches as he swipes his tongue against your own and you can’t ignore how he tastes like cinnamon and salt. The kiss says nothing, but everything you couldn’t all at once. The kiss dissolves, along with some of the tension in the air, but he doesn’t pull away, instead resting his nose against your cheek bone.

“I’ve already planned a future with you.” you say after a beat, blindly reaching up to wipe his cheeks, the moisture there surprising you. A finger brushes too close to his eye and he flinches with a broken laugh. “And nothings going to change that.”

Mattsun just nods. He audibly swallows before letting out an airy laugh, cracked slightly from his tears. “Fuck, this is why I asked you to turn around. I didn’t want you to know.”

“Hey, now, don’t cry. I’m here.” he tightens his grip around you, crushing you into his chest. Whether the shake of his limbs is from effort or emotion, you can’t tell.

“I was worried.” he admits, “Fuck, I was so, so worried you’d, you’d-”

His lips find yourself this time. It’s deeper, searching for an intimacy neither of you can vocalize. “I’m right here.” you whisper into him. “I know I can’t take it all away from you Issei, but I hope I can at least make it a little better.”

“You always do.” he presses a kiss against your brow. “You always do.”

#mattsun #matsukawa x y/n #matsukawa issei #mattsun x reader #mattsun x you #depression #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #seijoh #cryings #mattsun fic #mint's musings

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Note

I just read your Riven fics and ommggg they are so good!! Idk if you are making a part three but I will definitely look out for it! I haven’t started the sly ones but I can’t wait!

Come back to me // part 2

Pairing: Riven x light!fairy

Breath caught in her throat, she felt her hands tremble as her eyes lingered on the envelope on her pillow. The handwriting is in the kind of black that speaks of nighttime dreaming. The letters are so typically Riven - messy and yet she could see the effort behind each and every word - To my Sunshine - .

It’s been a long time since he last wrote her a love note, far too long for her to truly remember what it said. She remembers how it made her feel - hopeful, elated, giddy. That’s all Riven needed to win her over - love notes he’d slip in her books whenever she wasn’t looking.

This time it felt different. The note brought anxiety, fear of what the envelope may hide inside. They barely speak nowadays and when they do, Riven is crude and too often she finds herself crying herself to sleep because of how convincing he is with his act. Sometimes she wonders if he’s acting at all or if that’s who he is with everyone but her and it makes her feel guilty. How can she still be questioning his loyalties?

Shaking her head, she releases a heavy sigh before her shaky fingers pry open the envelope. The paper inside is barely ink stained, a few words written for her aching heart.

“Still Your Asshole”

Chuckling, Y/N covers her mouth with an open palm, glancing at the door to make sure no one is nearby. It wasn’t a chuckle that seemed to stop as it turned into a cackle and that cackle turned into a sob. She didn’t know where the sobs came from, she just knew she couldn’t stop. As if the soul could bleed an ocean through the eyes, that was the enormity of her sobbing.

Screaming into her pillow, Y/N felt the rawness of her pain fully. It had revealed its ugly head and she couldn’t breathe.

Riven may be hers but he isn’t. It takes a moment, a single mistake for him to be uncovered by Rosalind or Beatrix and he’d be taken from her. She’d never get to run her fingers through his brown hair, she’d never get to kiss his lips again or feel his hand in hers. He’d never tease her again, he’d never write her a new note or insist she needs him to teach her to fight. All of it would be gone in a blink of any eye and the severity of that realization choked the light out of her, even if for a little while.

She can’t always be the Sunshine. Clouds will eventually clear, but she needs the little bit of darkness and the sweetness it brings. Even if she’s in pain, even if the sadness threatens to suffocate her, she craves it.

Riven makes her weak, he makes her vulnerable. She never dreamed she could care for a man like Riven, she certainly didn’t wish it, but she does. It’s more than caring for Riven, she’s way past that. Whatever wicked game he played to make her feel that way for him, it worked. She fell in love with Riven and now it’s consuming her.

Wiping her tears, she stashes the letter under her mattress before walking out in the sun. If she can’t be the light, she can at least get the warmth of another’s light.

She lays down on the damp grass, looking up at the sky. She looked at the sky like a man would look at a withered flower in which he no longer sees the beauty he plucked it for, thus destroying it.

This noble heart that beat only for the most tender of emotions had to be subjected to pain to learn the secret of life:

Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wrecks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss.

She’s in the abyss now.

“You can’t be here”, and then she hears his voice, pulling her away from the darkness. “Come on”, he whisper shouts as he takes her by the hands and helps her to her feet.

She’s a little dizzy, disoriented by the sudden change in position. His eyes are on her, his face inches away and yet she feels like they’re a thousand miles apart. She doesn’t fight him as he drags her to the greenhouse, closing the door quickly so no one would see them.

“I got your note”, she’s the first one to speak. Riven turns to her with a small smile only for it to fall when he truly looks at her - puffy, red eyes and dry lips aren’t easily mistakable.

He let out a slow controlled breath, “Is that why you cried?” Riven’s eyebrows furrow as he steps closer to her, his hands on his hips.

“I cried because I miss you!” She shouts, her fingers flickering alight and she knows she’s losing control. A shuddered breath passes her quivering lips, “I miss you and I’m worried about you and I hate you.” She says through gritted teeth and Riven can’t help but stumble back, confused.

“Me?” He raises his eyebrows, pointing his right index finger at himself, “What did I do?”

Scoffing, Y/N shakes her head. “YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN HERE!” Covering her mouth, she turns away from him. She never told him that she loved him before and he never uttered anything close to it either. She feared looking at him and not have him say it back. After all, why would he?

“You love me?” Riven breathes out, still trying to collect himself. Crossing the distance between them, Riven wraps his arms around her. Pulling her back against his chest, he folds his hands over her abdomen. He’s holding on tightly, like she’s a dream he’s afraid to wake up from.

“You love me?” He repeats in a whisper. Knitting her eyebrows together, she frowns and bites into the soft flesh of the inside of her bottom lip as his lips brush her earlobe.

“Yes”, she leans her head back on his shoulder, relaxing in his arms.

“Good.” Riven whispers and she snaps out of it, slapping his hands until he lets go.

“Good?” She exclaims, her glare deadlier than a blade.

“Yeah?” Riven chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.

“I tell you I love you and all you have to say is good?” She deadpans, before throwing her hands in the air, “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah. It’s good, because I’ve been in love with you for about a year now and it’s good to know you finally feel the same way.” Riven shrugs, “But go on. I like it when you’re angry.”

Rolling her eyes, she playfully slaps his chest, “Don’t fucking do that to me!”

“Did you just say a swear word?” Riven’s eyes widen, a grin much wider making Y/N blush.

“You’re really going to nitpick at my language instead of kissing me now when we finally got a moment alone in months?” She raises an eyebrow, tapping her foot nervously.

“I’m actually running late”, Riven wets his lips and yet he doesn’t move away, but closer to Y/N. All he can taste is the cherry chapstick she wore the first time they kissed. That was on a constant loop inside his head.

“We could run?” Y/N tries, but Riven only shakes his head.

“I spent my whole life running. I can’t betray Sky like that. He’s my brother.”

Struggling to inhale, Y/N whispers, “And what am I to you?”

“The love of my life.” Riven blurts out without a second thought as his hands cups her cheeks, “You’re the only reason why I’m never going to give up.”

“You’re saying all the right words and my heart still hurts”, she sniffles, hoping she doesn’t cry again. She’s had enough of crying for a lifetime.

“I wish I could make it better, I do.” Closing his eyes, Riven leans his forehead on hers, “I love you with all I am. With all I’ll ever be.” Drawing in a sharp inhale, he holds his breath for a moment to stop tears from forming. “If I were a better man, I’d have let you go.”

“Don’t be the better man”, she croaks, her fingers curling his hair at the back of his head. “Be the bad guy. Just be mine.” And she kissed him. With a devastating sweetness, an innocence - as if this were the first time. Strong fingers curved about her jaw and warmth seeped into her bones, her skin, her soul.

The lips held to hers, reassuringly alive. Riven had reassured her by the strength of his arms surrounding her and the steady wilderness in his chest, beat of a heart not her own.

She was no longer alone in misery. Someone was there, keeping her warm, holding the memories at bay and dangers of the world could no longer get to her. Her lips softened; tentatively, she returned the kiss with all her heart.

Breaking the kiss, Riven’s arms leave her, the warmth going with him. She stumbles, catching her breath.

Riven glances at his phone only to swear under his breath and she knows something’s happened.

“Listen to me”, Riven swallows thickly, “Stay with Stella and the rest tonight.”

“Why”, Y/N frowns, folding her arms across her chest.

“Don’t ask questions, please.” Pecking her lips, Riven takes a few steps back, “If you love me as much as you say you do, go now and stay with the girls. I’ll try to contact you as soon as I can.”

“Riven”, Y/N raises her voice, unnerved and anxious about his behavior.

“Sunshine, please”, his voice softens and she nods, licking her lips. Before she can say a word, he manages a smile, “I’ll come back to you. I will.”

And that’s when he leaves and Y/N does as he asked. But the nagging feeling inside her chest is relentless - something bad is happening and someone is going to get hurt.

Part 4

#riven fate winx saga #riven x reader #riven imagine #riven #fate the winx saga #fate riven #riven x fairy #fate the winx saga fanfic #fate the winx saga fic

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cannibal-witchh · 4 years

Text

Reader(Fem) X Alcina Dimitrescu

(PART 1)

Written by cannibal_witchh

⛓Trigger Warning⛓

Story contains: Gore, sexual elements, vulgar language, violence, elements of sub/dom behavior, and captivity.

Notes:

I am not the most confident writer so bare with me if theres some flaws floating around the story. I also have very minimal general knowledge to Alcina right now due just demos only being out. Please, be considerate that there's only so much information released on her so most of what I'm writing is not canon. Let's keep it positive and real, we all are thirsting after Lady D so here's a a fanfiction. Also couldn't condense it in one story so going to make this adleast a two or three parter.

It can get confusing with a lot of female characters so the reader is of course:

Y/N - your name

Her/she- i wanted to refer to the female reader in italics and bold

Y/L/N- your last name

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Thunder echoed along the well decorated corridor walls . Hints of lightning occasionally flashed between fluttering curtains. Beyond the curtains was an open window, below that was a critical drop into snow and shards of large rocks. That was definitely not worth risking. Y/N had been held in captivity for what felt like a legitimate eternity. Confinded to a small well kempt room, it seemed as though it had once been a guest room according to the furnishing. All the basic necessities of a bedroom were present here. The fabrics that dressed the bed were of a fine quality, and the boards that held all of it up were of incredible carpentry. Gentle embers flickered from the candlewicks that rose tall on the golden girandoles. Despite captivity the room was comfortable, it was illuminated with warm colors, although still dim and feint.

The door swung open, a black swarm of insects swirled infront of the door as it begun to quickly form a figure. It revealed a small vampiric woman, hooded with golden locks peaking from under it. She flashed her teeth with an enthusiastic smile, as she revealed blood stained teeth, lips, as well as her chin. " Oh, goody! You are awake. I always feel bad feeding when someone is asleep.", She shut the door as she advanced closer to Y/N. Adrenaline began to flood through her veins, hair on her body standing up, and her palms perspiring. She was covered in scabbed bite marks, and bruises - it didn't take long for her to recall the abrupt painful puncture of teeth break through her skin. The old bites began to twitch with pain at the idea a new addition would be welcomed. " I just prefer blood thats been in shock, y'know, awake? It gives it a nice acidic flavor, plus,", she towered over Y/N breathing in her aroma. " It smells wonderful.", she giggled in soft whispers. "Enough.", Y/N demanded as she attempted to cease her trembling. Her body was returning to anxiety because it was clear what was about to happen. A feeding. The vampire didn't seem to express offense, strangely her face bore amusement. "Oh ok, how about this!", she excitedly brought out her sickle and swung at her. With one swift swing the sickle hooked right under her knee cap. A shriek was released from Y/N's lips, agonizing pain radiating everywhere, and blood began to river out from the site. The vampire dragged her with the sickle through the corridor as everything seemed like a blurr from the shock. Hallways seemed like a stretched out haze, and noises seemed to be loud echoes one would hear in a juvenile cafeteria. "Whe-where are you taking me...?", she barely mustered as she felt the sickle dig through muscle and actually brush against the back of her knee cap. Fuck. The sickle was released quickly from her skin as she heard the sound of blood fly onto the ground. That abrupt removal felt worse for minutes compared to the weapon actually being present in Y/N's knee. The monstrous woman lifted the sickle to her crimson stained lips, inhaling the aroma deep, and then proceeding to lick the sickle of the blood it had collected. Sounds of ecstasy escaped her satin black lips, her eyes darted over at Y/N as she felt like she was on the verge of fainting from shock. " I love blood that has some acidicity to it. It gives it a nice kick. You know how that works? For example, your blood could still have more of that taste. One who is in a flight or fright scenario, where they are in absolute fear and adrenaline kicks in...thats when the meat and blood have a sour flavor. Mmm, thats why we are going to play a game." , she licked her lips as her eyes flickered with hunger and passion. Y/N groaned in pain as she felt her body gasp from the fevered pain beating in her knee. " I propose we play hide and go seek! You already know who's hiding. I will give you to the count of 100." , her eyes shimmered from this fucked up idea, she quickly turned her back and covered her eyes. Slowly the sickle in her hand vanished within dark smoke, damn it, Y/N within fading in and out had thought perhaps of stealing that and killing her there. Not anymore. She rose up with wobbling knees, just like a new born dear barely capable of using its legs, she began to hobble as fast as she could away.

"Oh, and I can smell your blood. So hide well, Y/L/N."

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Y/N consistently looked back, watching if the vampire had cheated the game. She was indeed honoring the game, that was adleast something about this blonde one she liked. She seemed to honor things she said, " 89...70...", her voice echoed loudly through the halls. The numbers lowering as Y/N felt her adrenaline spike even higher.

Y/N managed to find a door unlocked in a different wing of the manor. She adleast went through 10 locked doors before fleeing to another location of the manor. With pure luck, she discovered this door, it was unlocked and she took her gamble and entered quietly. With trembling gore soiled hands, she locked the door, and sunk to the ground. Very little energy existed in her, she anticipated for dear life the blonde vampire wouldn't smell her here.

The sound of gentle humming danced along the walls of this room, very melodic, sad, and eerie. Lonely, perhaps. With Y/N's quick realization, this resembled a garden bath house. The windows stretched tall in this room, revealing bleeding light from the full moon, there were plants of vibrant emeralds surrounding the large mass of water that centered the room. The water was decorated with rose petals and red spider lilies. The room was architecturally structured with several stones of marble, and looked almost like a Greek bath house . Gentle sounds of rushing water followed between stones which flowed into the big pool of water. Little ripples scattered across the water causing the red flowers to bob up and down.

The humming persisted as Y/N felt her heart drop, she quickly scurried to the nearest marble pillar to conceal herself. The humming was growing louder and louder, could it be the hungry vampire? She wasn't certain if it was worse but it certainly felt like it, Lady Dimitrescu emerged from the shadows of the room, and strided to the water. She was only wrapped in the finest silk, a tight sheer white robe that hugged tightly against her hips. She definitely had a full figure, the robe delivered a silhouette of her motherly figure. It certainly complimented, the low cut of the robe teased her deep cleavage, the sheer silk revealed faint color and the shape of her puffy areolas. Even in the predicament Y/N was in, it was still hard not to appreciate Alcina's physical beauty.

Alcina continued her melodic hum for a few more moments as she admired the undulations of the floral water. " Y/N Y/L/N, you believe me to be foolish?", she broke from her tune as her eyes looked directly at Y/N. She gulped hard as she submitted to the acceptance Alcina would more than likely kill her. She continued to lay her back against the cold pillar, one hand applying pressure to her bleeding knee, the other containing the fear that was trying to escape her lips. " I could smell that delicious blood from here.", she chucked lightly, "Come here, now.", she demanded with her arms crossing. Y/N did not obey the command, she remained quiet behind the pillar. For minutes it consisted of painful sharp silence, only the sound of her terrified heart beats could be heard. Her ears burned and rung, it desperately needed the assurance Alcina was still idle. Did Y/N dare look beyond the pillar? She peeked over and Alcina was no where to be found. Consternation filled her as there wasn't even a trace of evidence to signify the direction Alcina went. Unexpectedly, Y/N felt a hard blow and collapsed on her side. Her hands releasing themselves, and a gasp of air evacuated her mouth. " Oh, I see. ", Alcina had kicked her, her foot pressed hard against her side. Her smooth leg exposed, tracing all the way to her innermost thigh. Her skin looked smooth like porcelain, but certainly felt the weight of heavy boulders as it rested on her. Y/N groaned in pain as she felt her foot dig deep into her. "Bleeding out on my perfect floors. Oh, what a mess. Although, it does certainly smells of of tart berries, yes, what a wonderful aroma.", Alcina breathed in the cold air, inhaling hints of Y/N's blood. She moaned in intoxication to the alluring smell of fresh blood. Alcina removed her foot from Y/N, she gasped for air in relief, and tried to attempt to sit up. Alcina quickly lunged forward without even a blink, and her long hand wrapped around Y/N's throat. "No, I don't think so.", Alcina smirked as her hand squeezed around her throat. She fell onto her back, the large vampress towering over, her large hand pressing into her throat.She was capable of breathing but it was incredibly taxing especially with the critical condition she was in. Desperate wheezing filled the air, it burned and stung inside of Y/N's throat. Alcina stared into her eyes, a long red smile stretched upon her pale white face. "Hmm, this is quite boring already. I am quite famished too.", she released her grip, ascended and brought her arms to her bosom to cross them. Y/N began to violently cough and gag as proper air flow returned to her lungs. After several minutes of constant heaving, she finally managed to collect herself. "Come.", Alcina ordered as she turned on the balls of her feet and waltzed to the bath. Y/N submitted, too exhausted to resist any longer. She barely could stand but managed, she approached Alcina with her eyes fixed on her every move. " My little one lacks control. Just as I would suspect with her age. If she doesn't stop stabbing you, you'll die. And I really have grown addicted to your flavor as well. I really would hate for you to bleed out one day because of her reckless actions.", she expressed with a sigh of annoyance. Suddenly, a knock interrupted her rambling, " Lady Dimitrescu,", it was the blonde vampire. Alcina let out another sigh in annoyance. "Yes?", she responded with a disinterested tone, as she crossed her arms a little more snug. Revealing a distracting amount of cleavage being pressed together. " Is Y/N in there?", she sniffed loudly as she strived to rattle the door knob open. " Yes, but I require her. I will discuss with you later some important matters. For the mean time, please do not disturb me and I'll return to you soon.", Alcina said sternly as her fingers drummed the top of her arms impatiently. "Yes, Lady Dimitrescu. ", the blonde vampire responded with pure disappointment in her tone.

"Now, where were we? Oh, yes. I've decided you will become my little feeding pet. My daughters do not know how to handle food without killing it. So you are now only mine. Clear?", she lowered herself and grabbed Y/N by the face. Turning her face side to side to examine the condition she was in. Y/N nodded to the best of her abilities, and quickly, Alcina released her. "Good. I'm glad you are willing. I want you to undress now." Embarassment flooded Y/N's mind, her cheeks buzzing with warmth. Why would she even demand that? " I intend on drinking the blood thats already spilling out of you. But I won't drink it while its been dragged around by a rusty sickle and pressed against the dirty floor.", her refined side was definitely exposed. She was different from her daughters, she wanted her meals much more virtuous. " Oh, now, now. I will even join you. They say when two are bathing they are equals.", she added as she disrobed herself. Gently she slide the robe off her shoulders and down her large breasts, as the robe began to flutter down to the marble. Her naked body exposed, and remarkable. Her large breasts sitting perky, her puffy areolas a light grey, and her waist down was incredibly curvy. Absolutely, a full figured silhouette. She dipped her feet in and followed by submerging her body into the bathwater. She let out a sound of relaxation as she smirked and beckoned Y/N. "Come, now."

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To be continued...

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harryspet · 4 years

Text

welcome to eden | steve rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stepford wives au, wife!reader, marriage au, institutional misogyny, wealthy!steve, housewives au, stepfordization, mind control/brainwashing, forced gender roles, breeding kink, oral sex (male recieving), vaginal sex (wear a condom, kids!), bad editing :)

A/N: i just love the concept of this! i was told this was done before but I hope you all like my interpretation!

THIS STORY CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT

In which the neighborhood you and your husband Steve move into isn’t like anywhere else on earth. The women are flawless and the men are way too happy.

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taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @charmed-asylum @fishwaterr @marvelsswansong @nsfwsebbie

word count: 4.8k

“Now that we actually own this place it feels different. You still don’t think this is all a little much?”

Steve lifted the cardboard box you were holding from your hands, starting to make his way into the house, “It’s perfect, pumpkin.”

Eden.

You were now homeowners in the most luxurious and exclusive neighborhood in upstate New York. Howard Stark created this safe haven in the sixties and people now knew it as “heaven on earth”.

You followed him inside the fortress of a house, knowing he was smiling wide. Even in your wildest dreams you never imagined that you would live in a place like this. There were so many rooms that you’d run out of ideas for what to do with them. The massive foyer was twice as big as the home you grew up in.

Perfect marble floors, a winding staircase that reminded you of a castle, and a ginormous chandelier that was no doubt made of real diamonds. You followed Steve as he made his way into the kitchen which was, again, made for the Gods. You’d never been good at cooking but now you felt you had to start giving it a try just because of how nice it was.

It had three ovens! Who in the world needs three ovens? “I don’t think we even have enough stuff to fill the house, Steve.”

He set the box onto the counter and you were reminded of the small number of things inside compared to the amount of cabinet space, “We’ll buy more things. Lots of things! You have my card, you can order whatever you want online,” You took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed even by the thought of decorating this place, “Hey now, c’ mere. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

You walked into his embrace, letting his strong arms wrap around you as you leaned your head against his hard chest, “I am happy,” You made sure to say though you weren’t convinced this house would ever feel normal, “And I’m grateful. I really am, Steve.”

Steve’s big promotion in security at Stark Industries was unexpected but of course, you were happy for him. You just didn’t expect he’d suddenly be making millions and, since the two of you were married now, that you’d have to make the move with him and start looking for new jobs in the city. He’d do the same for you so you felt it was your duty to suck it up and try to make things work.

You looked up at him and a soft smile was on his kind face. He leaned down to press a comforting kiss to your forehead. You tilted up to kiss him. He deepened it and, like you always liked, the passion you’d felt with him escalated the situation.

Suddenly, Steven lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands on your waist and started to explore beneath your shirt, “This is going to be so good for us,” He spoke huskily against your lips, “What do you say we christen the new place?”

You nodded eagerly as he began to kiss your neck, “One good thing is we’ll probably never run out of places to have sex in a house this big,” Steve chuckled at your words. For a moment, his kisses took away the anxiety you were feeling. Change is only a part of life and it was something you’d just have to get used to. Luckily, you had Steve by your side to get through it all.

“Plenty of space for kids as well,” He said and you assumed it was an attempt to turn you on. You gripped his muscular arms tightly as he

“Mhm, put a baby in me, Steve,” You played along, knowing that you were on birth control and that was unlikely to happen anytime soon. Steve was dying to be a father but you agreed before you got married that you would enjoy your marriage to each other before you considered having kids, “Please, Steve.”

You knew that would send him over the edge and only seconds later he was pulling down your bottoms and pushing himself between your legs. Before you two could get really hot and heavy, the doorbell rang and left you both frozen.

Steve helped you off the counter and you were quickly trying to pull up your yoga pants as Steve zipped up his jeans, “Edith, who’s at the door?” Steve asked which caught you off guard. The mansion was also a smart house, equipped with artificial intelligence that Mr. Stark had developed.

“James and Natasha Barnes, sir. Would you like me to let them in?” There were small monitors throughout the house including the kitchen. It lit up when the door rang with a picture of the couple standing at the front door.

“Yes, Edith. Thank you,” Steve turned back to you, not with frustration that their moment had been interrupted, but with a mischievous smile, “We’ll finish what we started later.”

You nodded, forcing a smile as he grabbed your hand. The two of you walked to the foyer which was a trip within itself due to the size of the house.

Bucky was one of Steve’s friends that you were never quite sure of. He’d known Steve for way longer than you so you never thought it was your place to ask questions about their relationship. Bucky just seemed to bring out Steve’s impulsive side and you preferred Steve when he was cool and level headed.

Nat, on the other hand, you loved her.

“Welcome to Eden, Rogers family,” Bucky announced, his voice booming through the foyer as they came into view. Already, something was off and it wasn’t because of the new environment. Bucky was clad in his suburban husband get-up, like he’d been golfing all day and Natasha looked like she was preparing to go to some old-fashioned garden party. You’d never seen her wear a sundress and never seen her smile so wide.

“Thanks, Buck,” You heard Steve say, going to hug his best friend.

As you walked up to embrace Natasha, she even felt different. As you pulled back, you searched her face for something missing, “Wow, your eyes are beautiful,” She said, still beaming. Her red hair was now blonde and reached down past her shoulders. Her skin was bright and her makeup, which she didn’t normally wear, was done to perfection.

“Thank you,” You spoke, unsure of why she was just now noticing. Besides that, you didn’t think they were anything special, “You look great … so new.” You laughed awkwardly as you took a step back. Bucky placed a hand on the small of her back and she gazed back at him lovingly.

“Honey, you act like you haven’t met Y/N a million times,” Bucky grinned towards you, trying to ease the awkwardness.

“Of course,” Natasha agreed immediately. You couldn’t help but think her tone was lacking a certain emotion, “I love spending time with Y/N. It’s so nice to have girl friends, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, appearing from basically nowhere, she pulled out a dish. It was a pound cake and she presented it to you with a smile that was now starting to make you uncomfortable, “A house warming gift,” Bucky added as you accepted it, “Natasha has been taking up baking.”

“That’s very sweet,” You said and Steve added a thanks.

“You two should stay. Let us give you a tour!” Steve clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Sure,” You agreed, “Stay for dinner. We can order pizza.”

“Order? Pizza?” Natasha was smiling but her head cocked to the side in confusion. Bucky responded by grabbing her hand and, again, she looked up at him with loving eyes.

“That sounds delicious, Y/N,” Bucky said, ignoring his wife.

You rubbed moisturizer on your face as you looked back into your bathroom mirror. The room was the size of a regular room and the closet was basically an apartment within itself. Steve came from behind you, his hands on your waist as he pressed himself into you.

“Should we continue where we left off?” He asked as you grabbed a hold of your toothbrush.

His hands were still roaming over your body as you began to brush your teeth before bed. You didn’t answer his question, your mind far away, “You don’t think Nat was acting super off today?” You asked after spitting toothpaste into the sink, “I mean, quitting her job. Suddenly wanting to be a stay at home Mom? She just got a promotion a few months ago.”

Through the mirror, Steve gave you a look that told you he was about to play devil’s advocate, “She didn’t seem that different to me. I think she realized what she actually wanted after the move.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as you rinsed off your toothbrush, “Are you being serious, Steve?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Realizing he was not getting anything tonight, he stepped back with his hands in the air, “You never know about these things. People change. Who knows, maybe our priorities will change too.”

You scoffed, turning off the water, “My only priority right now is landing the Cosmopolitan contract. I can think about priorities once I’m working again,” You walked past Steve, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss his cheek, but he still had a defeated look on his face, “Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.”

You barely had time to enjoy your bowl of cereal milk before there was another ring at the doorbell. Without looking up from his bowl, Steve explained that he made plans for you and Natasha to spend the day together. You knew he was working on convincing you that this entire move was a great idea. Of course, you didn’t have time to protest because the new blonde was now impatiently honking the horn of the golf cart in your driveway.

As soon as you stepped out of the house, you realized you were underdressed once again. Her attire today was a sundress full of blue flowers and beautiful pearls to go around her neck, “Good morning, sunshine!” She beamed as you climbed into the passenger seat. She looked over your regular t-shirt and jeans with a smile but you could tell she didn’t understand the way you were dressing, “It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah-”

“I know! I love gardening on days like this,” She suddenly pressed the gas and you were on your way. You were still figuring out what exactly happened to your friend since the last time she saw you but she could only seem to talk about gardening, “Bucky loves the flowers I plant. I put them in this gorgeous vase so he can look at them while he’s eating his favorite breakfast. It’s nice to have nice things to look at.”

Natasha showed you every house in the neighborhood, explaining what nuclear family lived in each house, “How come you know everyone who lives here? You never seemed like the type to ... “

“Oh, we all know each other in Eden. It’s like a family! Isn’t that sweet?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod this time. You were starting to notice that every person we passed seemed … flawless. All the wives were perfectly dressed, wearing heels, and had neatly pinned hair. All the husbands looked way too happy.

You passed a golf course and soon arrived at the clubhouse where you’d be attending a book club meeting. You were a reader yourself so the idea of that gave you some hope that you wouldn’t feel totally out of place today.

That hope dissipated quickly when you stepped into the room. On a landing overlooking a pool, a group of flawless looking women sat in a circle like they were having a tea party rather than a book club meeting.

They were all happy to meet you and Natash introduced you to everyone. Instead of their names, she started with their husband’s. There was Sam’s wife Sharon, Vision’s wife Wanda, Thor’s wife Val, Clint’s wife Laura and most importantly-

“Pepper!” The group of women erupted with cheers as the matriarch entered the room. You’d recognize Tony Wife’s anywhere just from the tabloids. She was pretty much America’s favorite wife, writing self-help books, and posing on the cover of home decor magazines.

“Good morning, ladies,” She moved like a cloud, floating through the room as she commanded everyone’s attention. She took a second look at you as she made her way to her chair, “Steve’s wife Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you and, wow, you have such beautiful eyes. Welcome to the book club!”

The room erupted in giggles and clapping once again. You felt you were in some sort of simulation, like a social prank and you were waiting for some tv show host to come out and reveal that all these people were paid actors.

Pepper continued, crossing her ankles as she flattened out the skirt of her purple colored dress, “I hope you are all feeling like I am. My husband is happy, the kids are happy, my friends are happy and that. Makes. Me. Overjoyed,” Her words put them in a trance and they seemed even more robot-like than they already were, “I only want to add to that feeling so today we are discussing a highly anticipated book.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you clearly weren’t on the same page as everyone else. Natasha nudged your side, giddy as ever, “I present to you ladies, Melanie Winkle’s Christmas Baking Book!” Now you were positive that you were in a simulation, “Christmas is a few months away but the season is so busy that I think we should get an early start this year. Who knows how many dance recitals, charity fundraisers, and Christmas parties we will all attend this winter? Too many to count! This book is going to change all of our lives.”

Natasha leaned into your ear, “I love Christmas, don’t you?”

“Nat?” Her eyes widened with curiosity, “Blink twice if someone is holding you hostage.”

She didn’t blink at all, “You’re silly, Y/N. You always make me laugh, don’t you?”

The next week passed in a blur. You had no idea how many brain dead women you had met or how many times Steve had told you that you were crazy for stressing over the Natasha situation. Tomorrow, you had an interview and you could finally leave the neighborhood and be around people who didn’t only care about knitting and Christmas decorations.

Before you could have your sweet escape, your limit was met.

You were attending a yoga class led by Pepper that Natasha had brought you to. It was an otherwise normal experience despite Pepper chanting about how true peace is reached when your “home is happy”.

The class was in a cat’s pose when Wanda suddenly fell down to her stomach. The class froze and you rushed to her side. Your heart racing, you placed a hand on her back to check to see what was wrong. You brushed her hair from her facing, seeing that her eyes were wide open and she was saying, “I love my husband. I love my family. I love my husband. I love my family,” She kept repeating those two phrases over and over, her gaze completely empty.

You felt Natasha’s hand on your arm, trying to guide you away.

“She’s going to be just fine, girls,” Pepper said calmly like the woman wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, “Us women are so delicate, with the yoga and the hot weather outside, she must be overheating. Natasha, will you lead the girls into the other room?”

“I think she needs medical attention,” You interjected, staring around the room to find a like mind.

“Tony can help her,” Pepper smiled.

“She needs a doctor!” The room went silent before the wives began to whisper.

“I love my husband. I love my husband. I love- I love- It’s a lovely day outside, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“We will get her the help she needs, do not worry,” Piper continued, folding her arms in front of her.

Natasha pulled your arm harder this time, “Y/N, let me walk you home. It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

You left the room with a feeling of complete uncertainty and as soon as Natasha was out of your site, you stormed up the spiral stairs to find Steve’s office, “Steve!” You shouted his name as you speedily walked through the long hallway. You pushed open the two, large, oak doors that led into the study and stormed inside, “Steve Rogers, I am done!”

Steve looked up from his desk and Tony turned to face you from his place in the chair in front of his desk.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Steve stood from his chair, concerned.

You stared at Tony Stark, not with awe because he was the most famous engineer in the world, but with anger, “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N,” Tony stood next, fixing the buttons on his suit jacket, “Steve tells me you’re a photographer. Quite a talented one.”

You eyed him carefully, somehow knowing that he was the source of all that was wrong here, “I need to talk to my husband, alone, if you don’t mind.”

Steve’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, “Y/N,” He said with a warning, trying to tell you not to be rude, “This is my boss-” “It’s quite alright, I know an angry wife when I see one. I enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Rogers, and I think we’re on the same page now,” Tony approached you, a smug look on his face, “I hope to see you around, sweetheart. Oh, and again, welcome to Eden.”

As he left the room, you became even more frustrated, “You can’t talk to me like that in front of my boss, Y/N.”

“Steve,” You walked closer to his desk, “Listen to me. It’s only been a week and I am losing my mind. The people here are … are robots! They’re old-fashioned and daft, especially the wives. Nat used to be smart and cunning and now all she can talk about are gardening magazines!”

“Gardening is a very relaxing hobby-”

“Oh, please,” You crossed your arms, “That woman was on her way to being a CEO and now she’s … she’s a shell.”

Steve walked around the desk to you, grabbing your hands while they shook with anger. The look in his eyes was sincere, loving, and brought you back to a simpler time. When you were first dating, living in a tiny apartment in the city, the two of you were so in love.

“I know this move has been hard on you and I don’t want you to see this all as a mistake. I’m trying hard, I really am,” You nodded, trying to let his words soothe you. You pressed your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “Everything here is new to me too. They do things here differently than any other place I’ve been.”

“Yeah, it’s like a cult,” You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled.

“I’m not sure about that. I do know that things are simpler here,” You felt his heartbeat quicken, “I always wanted the white picket fence, the two kids, a boy and girl, and a doting wife. She wouldn’t be bogged down by the stresses of modern life, I would take care of her … we’d be happy-”

You pushed away from him, tears pricking your eyes, “Steve, you can’t be serious,” You took a few more steps back.

Steve sighed, “I wasn’t sure before. Bucky made it sound like a crazy fantasy but now that I’ve seen Nat and … now that I’ve talked to Tony…”

You kept walking backward, your heart was now racing, “You kept saying she and her. Not me … I’m not the wife you want, am I?”

Steve stepped forward now. There was pain in his eyes like he didn’t want to hurt me but he had to keep pushing himself further, “You could be, pumpkin,” He tried to be endearing but his voice was weak.

As soon as your back touched the door, you turned and yanked it open. You took off down the hallway and you cursed the fact that you let Steve by this crazy house. You looked back to see Steve standing at the top of the stairs as you hurried down them, “Y/N, please don’t make this hard!” Steve tried to plead.

“Fuck you, Steve!” You shouted back, practically throwing yourself at the door. As you turned the lock, it didn’t budge, “Edith, open the door!”

“Only Mr. Rogers has command of my controls, Mrs. Rogers.”

Your face fell completely as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You felt him behind as you continued to pull at the doorknob, “Steve, I’m begging you …” He placed his hands on your hips, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“I promise it won’t hurt one bit, pumpkin.”

When Steve awoke a week later, he was dreading the day. It had been a week since Tony started working on you and Steve was nervous to see the final product of the reprogramming. He’d spent the week emailing your friends, family, and associates, making excuses about your whereabouts and your new change of career.

Whatever problems he ran into, there was nothing that money couldn’t solve.

As he made his way down the stairs that morning, he smelt something unusual. Steve had never woken to the smell of bacon and he had certainly never heard you humming sweet songs before. He saw the back of you first as he walked into the kitchen, knowing you were whisking away at some mixture in a bowl.

Steve moved cautiously but you easily picked up on his movements. Part of Steve was surprised to see that you were still you. He hadn’t seen such a happy look on your face since the two of you had been engaged, “Hey, honey bear,” You greeted him and Steve could now see you were whisking pancakes, “Did you sleep well?”

Steve moved closer and you heard yourself say, “Don’t be shy, I’m making those pancakes you like from our favorite brunch spot.”

“I didn’t think … how did you …”

You guessed what he was thinking easily, “I did a bunch of research and I found the recipe online. I hope I can make them just like you like them,” You set down the bowl, walking over to peck his lips. Your lips still felt the same which comforted Steve, “Why don’t you sit down at the table? I’ll bring them to you!”

“Oh,” Steve perked up, “I can help you. Where’s the recipe?”

“No need. Let me take care of you, please,” You searched his eyes for permission, “It’s the first day of our new life together and I just want to show you how much I love you.”

Steve nodded and you pecked his lips again. You smiled, knowing how much telling him that you loved him had please him.

In the little breakfast nook, there was already a table full of food, the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows and illuminating the feast. Steve estimated that you had probably been cooking for hours at that point. A glass of orange juice as well, a cup of hot coffee was and today’s newspaper was waiting for him at the head of the table.

You were completely focused on following the recipe, having measured everything precisely and you were now making perfect circles of batter in the frying pan.

Steve watched your dress swing from side to side as you moved your hips, humming to some classical song. He had just realized that you’d chosen a blue dress, his favorite color, and you were wearing your hair just like he preferred. When you brought the tray of pancakes over to the table, you had an excited but expectant look on your face. You were probably as nervous as Steve was earlier.

As you placed them in front of Steve, you stepped back and folded your hands over your apron,

“You aren’t going to sit down?” Steve asked, grabbing his fork.

“Would you like me to sit down?” You asked, a pleasant look on your face.

“Yes, please,” Steve emphasized the seat beside him. He had a look of surprise on his face as if he hadn’t expected you to ask that. You maneuvered into the seat, neatly flattening your dress as you made yourself comfortable.

You looked back at Steve, still expectant, “You don’t want to eat?”

“Of course, if that’s what you’d like, my love,” You started to fill your plate with scrambled eggs and pieces of fruit from the bowl you prepared. Even as you spooned the food into your mouth, the taste not registering in your mouth, you watched him. You made sure to push the syrup closer to him as you waited.

When his fork finally picked up the food, your eyes were wide.

“It takes just like the pancakes at Orla’s,” Steve complimented and you felt your heart race. You touched your chest, your cheeks feeling warm, as happiness flooded you, “They’re delicious, Y/N.”

“I’m so glad,” You beamed, “Eat more, please. Would you like a muffin? Sausage? I can blend you up a fresh smoothie.”

Steve placed a hand over yours, trying to stop you from ranting, “No, everything is perfect.”

And Steve meant it.

When Steve finished his plate, you brought it to the sink despite his wishes to help you with dishes. When you came back to the table, you leaned in for what Steve thought was another peck on the lips. He was surprised when you deepened the kiss, resting your hands on the armrest as you leaned into him.

When you pulled away, you weren’t even breathless, “You look very handsome this morning, Steve,” You told him, adoration in your eyes as you memorized every feature of his strong face, “Would you let me have the honor of pleasing you?”

“I’m already feeling pleased,” Steve grinned not expecting your hand to run down his chest and then over his boxers, “.... oh.”

“Please?” You pouted, feeling him through the fabric. He grew harder against your grasp and, by his pupils, you could tell he liked it, “Just let me touch it. Please, Steve?”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding as he was left speechless. You reached into his boxers, grabbing his member which made Steve melt back into his chair. You freed it from its confinement, leaning down to let a trail of your spit coat the sensitive tip, “Just like that, Y/N,” You up and down his shaft, twisting and rubbing your thumb over the tip.

You moved down to kneel in front of him, “I wanna taste it, Steve. I wanna taste you so bad,” You moaned, moving your mouth closer to him.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” You smiled before tasting the tip with your tongue, “Good girl. Oh, you’re an angel.”

You took him all the way into his mouth, your tongue trailing down his shaft as you went deeper. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue creating a swirling motion. Despite your eyes watering, you kept perfect eye contact, trying to show him how much you were enjoying the privilege.

When your mouth tired, you used your hand to continue the work though Steve didn’t seem to mind at all. When you felt he was close, you slowed your motions, “Steve, please cum inside of me?” You begged, your hand still stroking his cock.

He nodded eagerly, knowing you hadn’t taken your birth control for an entire week. You got up from the ground, lifting your dress skirt as you climbed on top of him. Your eyes were locked on each other as you slid your panties to the side, sliding down on his cock. He was already close, you knew that, and you were desperate to feel his warmth.

“You want me to put a baby in you?” Steve grunted as you began to ride him. He grabbed a hold of the back of your neck, pulling you further into him. Your forehead pressed to his, your moans and pants began to mold together.

“Please!” You moaned.

“You want me to make you a Mommy, huh?”

“Please! Yes, please! I want you to make me a Mommy, Steve,” You smiled, the idea only filling your virtually empty mind with happiness. You'd try your best to be a wonderful mother and wife. “Oh, thank you-”

As you felt his warmth fill your insides, it was confirmation that you had pleased your husband properly. He slowly let you go so you could feel every inch that you just took.

“Jesus Christ,” He swore, panting as he leaned back in the chair, “This was the heaven on earth they were talking about.”

Steve could only imagine what came with lunch and dinner.

Suddenly the sun outside caught your attention, “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

hope you enjoyed!

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blu-joons · 4 years

Text

End Of A Bad Day ~ Min Yoongi

The silence that filled the room as you walked in sent a shiver down Yoongi’s spine. He glanced back to look at you, offering you a warm smile as he noticed the panicked expression on your face.

“Hi,” you whispered, barely able to lift your bag off your shoulder as you threw yourself onto the sofa.

Yoongi’s eyes studied you closely as they did every day when you came home from work. You were wrapped up in several layers whilst your teeth chattered, barely able to slip your arms out of your jacket. He reached across, giving it a gentle pull to strip it away from your body.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” He quizzed, leaning across to meet your eyes.

You glanced across at him, noticing how his eyes widened when he noticed how drained you were. He quickly reached behind you to try and buff up the cushions, but your head shook back at him, slowly leaning forwards to your trainers that were on your feet.

“You need to relax,” Yoongi reminded you, brushing his hand over the top of your head. “Try not to worry about anything else for a little while and forget about work.”

You nodded across at him, leaning forwards to try and pull at the knot you’d tied in your shoes. After several attempts, you let go of an exhausted groan as you continued to fumble, missing the lace every single time you tried to grab it.

“Let me,” Yoongi whispered, sliding off of the sofa, sitting down beside your feet, grabbing your ankle.

“I can do it,” you tried to reassure him, but each time you grabbed yet again you missed, becoming more and more agitated with every attempt to try and get your shoe undone.

After watching for a few more moments, Yoongi grabbed onto both of your hands. “Seriously, let me,” he smiled, placing your foot onto his thigh. “You’ve had a bad day, just let me do these things whilst you relax.”

“I should be able to untie my own shoes,” you huffed, feeling butterflies begin to knot in your stomach. As you glanced down, you noticed for the first time how badly your hands were shaking from the anxiety that was growing inside of you.

His head shook, carefully pulling at your two laces to untie the bows that had kept your shoes firmly in place for the last twelve hours. The relief you felt when your shoes finally slipped away from your feet brought a wide smile to your face.

“That feels so much better,” you whispered, stretching your toes out.

Yoongi chuckled gently, placing your shoes underneath the coffee table before reaching out to take a hold of both of your hands, moving up to the sofa to sit back beside you.

“What’s been going on to make you so scared?” He asked, “has work really been getting that hard? Do you need to talk to someone or your manager?”

Your head shook instantly, letting go of a deep breath. “I’m doing alright, it’s just been one of those days. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this bad and I didn’t really know what else to do. I just want to clear my mind for a while.”

With that, Yoongi’s hand began to draw several patterns against your palm with the tips of his fingers. Your attention was instantly drawn to his light touch as your mind tried to figure out what it was that he was drawing against you.

“Talk to me,” Yoongi whispered across at you, moving one of his hands away to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closely into his chest.

A light sigh came from you as you rested against his chest, feeling his hands brush gently through the top of your head. Your eyes fluttered shut for a few moments as the feeling began to reappear in your hands thanks to Yoongi’s touch.

You never quite knew how he managed to solve every situation that you found yourself in, it was just an instinct in him that knew what to do. He recognised things in yourself that you didn’t even spot, including your nervy hands.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence whilst Yoongi waited for you to find the confidence to tell him what was going on. He refused to let go of your hand the entire time, whilst also refusing to let you continue without telling him what was on your mind.

The tight grip on your hand gave you no choice but to sit down beside him, even if you wanted to escape. Each time he felt your breath hitch, he’d squeeze your hand a little bit tighter before you finally turned to look at him.

“I just don’t know,” you whispered, “it just feels like one of those days that have left me clueless.”

His head nodded, refusing to look away from you as you spoke. Your eyes were on the floor as you tried to find the courage, but Yoongi made sure he was checking over you.

“We all have those sorts of days though.”

“Not me,” you sighed, allowing your shoulders to drop. “I can’t do anything right at the moment and it sucks. I don’t know why I have such a fear inside of me, maybe I’m just terrified of letting people down and doing something wrong.”

His head shook, unwrapping his arm from around you to move against your cheek. The pad of his thumb began to wipe underneath your eyes as Yoongi noticed a few tears forming, catching them before they fell.

“You’re not letting anyone down, and you’re doing nothing wrong, I promise,” he assured you. “We all have those days where we wonder a lot and we fret, that’s a natural human instinct. No one can blame you from being anxious from time to time.”

“I can’t even untie my shoelaces Yoongi,” you reminded him, “what does that make me?”

His head shook once again, catching even more of your tears as they began to fall a little more frequently. Offering you a warming smile, he shuffled closer towards you.

“You’re human,” he chuckled gently, “how you cope with these sorts of days is on you, but no one is going to judge you for it. You cope as you want to cope, and that will never change the fact that I’m going to be right by your side,” he smiled, kissing the side of your head sweetly.

Your body leaned inwards towards his, positioning your head against his shoulder, just above his heart. You slowly moved with the rise and fall of his breathing as he held on tightly to you, allowing you to let go of everything that you’d held onto.

“I’m here,” he whispered down to you gently, “just let it all go for a while, and I’ll be right here to hold your hand throughout.”

You smiled appreciatively up at him, “thank you for being here for me, and doing all of the random things that I can’t do.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m always going to be here for you.”

“Just know that I appreciate it,” you whispered, “more than you’ll ever even know.”

“I know, don’t worry Y/N.”

---

Masterlist

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rocorambles · 4 years

Text

Thank You

Pairing: Mafia Boss Oikawa x Captive Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Rape/Non-con, Objectification, NSFW

Summary: Your husband is unable to settle his debts with the mafia and you pay the price

Requested by Anon

You wildly blink, adjusting to the light as your blindfold is removed. Your hands are tied behind you and you are petrified as a spiky haired man with green eyes firmly grips the back of your neck to hold you in place. Not that you have any urge to run away. Not with a room of heavily armed men surrounding you with guns out in the open and no hesitation to use them. You flinch when you remember the smell of gunpowder in your home just minutes ago. Your teeth are chattering in fear as you turn your attention to the man sitting in front of you. Maybe in a different context you might have found him handsome, but now trembling before him, his smile seems too sharp, there’s a malicious glint in his eyes as he studies you, and you just feel like prey.

“Hmm she’s a pretty little thing, but this doesn’t look like the money I’m owed or the stupid man who made the deal with us,” he says as he finally gets up and circles around you.

“She’s his wife. He didn’t have the money, so Matsukawa suggested we keep her until he settles his debt.” Your captor holds you steady as Oikawa plays with your hair, holds your jaw and turns your face left and right, and makes you open your mouth before roughly shoving two of his fingers down your throat. Tears well in your eyes at being treated like livestock and you gag as he insistently keeps on pushing his fingers further and further until you begin to choke around the two intrusive digits. With a sigh he abruptly pulls his hand out and wipes your saliva all over your face. “Too bad she has a gag reflex, but I suppose I can train that out of her.”

The tears finally begin to fall as he rips the clothes off your body and leaves you stark naked in front of the entire room of men. He harshly kneads your breasts and cruelly twists your nipples before walking behind you to give a few firm smacks to your ass. You let out a broken cry when the same fingers that had just assaulted your mouth are crudely shoved into your unprepared pussy. Pain tears through you as the fingers are thrust in and out of your dry walls and you almost sob in relief when he quickly pulls them out.

“At least she’s tight. I can work with this. Not a bad choice, Mattsun.” A curly haired man in the back of the room gives a thumbs up and disgust coils in you at the fact that your life and your body is just a joke of no importance to these monsters. But you don’t have time to dwell on the hate swirling inside of you when a hand roughly squeezes your cheeks and forces you to look into chocolate brown eyes.

“Starting from today, you’re going to be my new plaything until your husband pays his debts to us. Be grateful we aren’t making you whore out for us. You’d at least be profitable that way. You’re lucky I happen to be looking for a new pretty toy. We had to get rid of my last one because someone got carried away when I let them borrow her.” He gives a pointed look to the curly haired man who just shrugs and smiles at his words. “Iwa-chan, bring her to my room and get her ready. I’ll take her for a test run tonight.” With that, he releases his grip on you and the man whose grip is still tight around your neck drags you with him through winding hallways and staircases before shoving you into a large, beautifully decorated bedroom. “Go shower and freshen up. A maid will be by with clothes for you.” You think you see a pang of pity in his eyes, but he leaves too quickly for you to be sure. Shakily, you do as he says and, now cleaned up, you wait, naked aside from the towel wrapped around you.

A knock echoes throughout the room and you stare in trepidation as a young girl walks in and drops off a bundle of fabric on the bed besides you before swiftly exiting before you even have a chance to exchange a single word. With shaky hands, you reach to examine the pile beside you and humiliation courses through you when you pick up the flimsy mix of lace and mesh in your hands. You slowly put it on and fresh tears cascade down your face when you see your reflection in the mirror. The babydoll is exquisite and you could imagine yourself happily wearing this for your husband on a special night together, but the thought of a stranger, a monster seeing you practically naked, with lace and mesh only accentuating your figure and providing no coverage has you dry heaving as panic hits you. You collapse onto the bed and try to steady your breathing when something hard digs into your back. Startled, you reach behind you and anxiety hits you even harder when you stare at the turquoise and white leather collar trimmed with delicate lace and decorated with dainty bows.

Your attention is so fixated on the object in your hand that you don’t notice the door quietly open and closing or the footsteps drawing nearer to you. Only when a hand plucks the collar from your quivering hands do you let out a startled gasp. “Let me help you put this on.” You despondently stare at the man in front of you as he wraps the accessory around your neck and you feel any hope extinguish inside of you at the sound of the buckle clicking shut.

“My name is Oikawa Tooru, but you’ll address me as master. Like I said before, you’ll be my plaything which means I expect your body to always be cleaned and stretched for me to use.” You feel so small as he talks down at you like you’re a pet he’s trying to train and you clench your eyes shut as he begins to strip in front of you. You feel yourself being pushed down on the bed and you tense at the feeling of a much larger figure hovering over you, strong thighs pushing your legs apart, and something hard pressing against your bare groin.

You scream in pain as Oikawa completely enters you in one swift motion, brutally pushing past your dry, aching walls. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Your husband must have a pathetic dick if you’re married and still this tight. It’s like I’m fucking a virgin.” Guilt eats at you at the mention of your husband, but it’s quickly replaced by more agonized pain as Oikawa relentlessly shoves in and out of you. He’s so big and so rough. You’ve never felt this full before and you can swear he’s reaching your cervix with every thrust. You want to scream at him to slow down and let you adjust, but you bite your tongue and clench your fists as you accept the rapid pace, not wanting to anger him.

You vaguely hear an irritated tsk before a hand wraps itself around your throat and begins to squeeze. Your arms instinctively clutch at the wrist pushing down on you and your eyes shoot open as you silently plead at him with teary eyes to let you breathe. “That’s better. It’s not fun if you just lie there like an idiot. You’re so pretty when you cry and look so defeated,” he coos down at you. He removes his hand from your neck and you take deep gasps only to be choked by the moans forced out of you as he takes a nipple into his mouth and begins to circle your clit. You try to stifle your lewd sounds, but the hand stimulating your sensitive bud reaches up to warningly graze your throat and you let your mouth loll open as you let out cry after cry. You hate the way you can feel your nipples and clit harden in arousal and you cringe at the squelching sound of your juices flowing and easing the friction of Oikawa’s harsh movements, but there’s an undeniable surge of lust weaving through your veins.

It’s like your body has accepted defeat as it accommodates the girth inside of it and any pain you felt is morphing into a pleasure you’ve never felt before. Oikawa’s throbbing length reaches places inside of you your husband has never touched and your eyes roll at the feeling of Oikawa’s heavy balls slapping against your skin, further emphasizing just how deep he is inside of you. Something begins to build inside of you as your toes begin to twitch involuntarily, as the quivering muscles of your thighs begin to tighten, as your wet heat clenches around the cock inside of you. Your head tosses side by side and your fingers desperately clutch at the sheets beneath as you try to ground yourself, try to stop the overwhelming rise of something curling inside of you, yearning to be set free. But it’s no use and with just a few more harsh sucks, furious rubbing, and a couple of well aimed thrusts you come undone beneath him, wailing so loud he’s sure all his men can hear you.

You can’t see. There’s only darkness as your eyes roll all the way back and you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed by the trails of drool you feel seeping out of your wide open mouth as your body thrashes and twitches, riding out the powerful waves. You hear Oikawa groan as his pace speeds up and you brokenly moan as your sensitive body and spasming walls are stimulated beyond what they can handle. Pain bleeds into the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you just lie there, unable to do anything other than take it, fear and exhaustion tying you down. You’re silently thankful when you feel the stuttering of his hips and finally, Oikawa stills inside of you and you close your eyes in shame as you feel warm spurts paint your insides.

You try to push yourself further back into the bed as Oikawa leans down to hover over you and your body tenses so tightly at the feeling of his forehead brushing against yours that you think it might snap in half. But there’s nowhere to go and you silently sob at the twistedly tender action. “I’m going to enjoy having you as a pet. Don’t you think you should thank your master for making you feel so good?” He whispers so gently that your spent body instinctively relaxes despite the cruel implications of his words and your mouth opens without hesitation.

“Thank you, master.”

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyuu #oikawa x reader #oikawa #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu mafia #oikawa smut #haikyuu x reader #tw: noncon #tw: rape

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Omertà👄17

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape.

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit (with sides of dark!Steve and dark!Thor). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: uh, yeah, here’s an update!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

masterlist

You were surprised and relieved that both men heeded your warning and left you alone. Even so, you slept with the club-like lamp close at hand and woke early as you went over the ideas brewing in your head. If you saw this casino through, you wouldn’t survive much longer. You doubted you’d even make it to the opening at this point.

You wore a tight black wrap dress that bared your thigh when you sat. You checked your reflection and preened before you grabbed your purse and headed for Loki’s room. You had to make this convincing. You had to work with Loki, not against him. Just for a time.

You knocked and tapped your heel on the hotel carpet. The door opened and Loki greeted you in a half-button shirt, untucked, and uncombed hair. His jaw twitched and he backed up a step as he let out a long breath.

“You’re early,” he nodded you inside. As you entered, he swung the door closed and finished buttoning his shirt. He strode around the room, tidied from the night before though still smelling of wine, and took his tie from the end table. He looped it as you lingered by the door.

“I think we should talk,” you said.

“We should?” he scoffed as he straightened his tie.

“About business,” you offered, “that’s why we’re here and we’ll get nothing done if we keep on like this.”

“All would be in order if you did not insist on being a stubborn bi--”

“Loki,” you curtailed his insult, “I mean it. Send me back to New York, just for a day.”

“I need you here.”

“I’ll stay until the morning but… Bucky told me some things about Diablo.”

“Diablo?” Loki squinted as he took a sleek black comb and looked into the mirror hung from the wall.

“You want me to show my loyalty to you, that’s what I’m doing.” You watched him comb his dark hair. “You own my bounty so what good is it to betray you? I owe you.”

He slapped the comb against his palm and turned to you. He set it aside and winced. He rolled his shoulder where you’d hit him and rubbed it.

“You’ve a far way to go to trust,” he warned.

“Look, you know how men like Bucky are. You think he doesn’t talk after… well, you know? He likes to boast. This whole casino business, that’s proof alone that Diablo is working behind your back. You might not trust me but you should trust him even less.”

“What are you proposing, pet?” he pulled on his jacket and yawned.

“Send me back to New York with Thor. I’ll need protection. You stay here. You can tell Bucky you sent me to keep me away from him or whatever makes your ego feel better.”

“Pet--” he began and you waved away his caution.

“Whatever,” you pressed, “you send me there and I will not return without answers. Diablo thinks he owns the city, that he owns me. He got on over on you with this seaside sty and I don’t think he should get away with that.”

“Why would you do any of this?”

“Because it’s my head as much as yours, because, as much as I hate to admit it, I’d rather be owned by you then Diablo.”

“And how will you get these answers?” Loki came near and looked down his nose at you.

“Hmm,” you smiled coyly, “all you men think my father left me alone with nothing. I know everyone he knew, I’m the sweet little girl who used to carry colouring books around to all the meetings. And as little as I knew her, I learned from my mother. Women have a way of snaking their way through the desert of bad men and we find sisterhood in our tolerance of their bad deeds. Diablo has girls coming and going, he tosses them away and do you think they appreciate him for that?”

Loki considered you and his lips threatened to curve. He ran his fingertips along his lapel and tilted his head.

“You are clever, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I make do,” you shrugged, “you keep me here and Bucky’s gonna keep playing this game. Don’t you think that’s a little too convenient for Diablo? He’s distracting both of you, he’s got you both of New York… why is that?”

Loki poked his tongue through his teeth and tsked. He turned away and swirled his finger through the air as he thought.

“I have been distracted, by you most of all,” he mulled, “I suppose it would be wise to figure out Diablo’s game and to get you away from that pitbull hounding my business.”

You were quiet, you had to let Loki think it was all in his hands. He went to the window and looked out, he let out a low snicker.

“See out the day, darling, and return to me tonight. I should like a proper goodbye before you go,” he checked his watch as he turned on his heel, “I will allow you a day in the city and you will return with the information you’ve promised me. I do not appreciate those who waste my time, you know that.”

“I do,” you confirmed, “and I’m done wasting my own.”

“Well then,” he crossed the room and his hand skirted up your side, “let us go on and face the day.”

You turned and reached for the door handle. He stopped your hand before you could twist it.

“I did not forget last night. It will not happen again or that little asterisk should disappear from my ledger, understood?”

You looked him in the face and held his eye. You nodded, “understood.”

“Very well,” he brushed his hand across your ass and gave a light slap, “go on.”

👄

You arrived at the casino before the other men. Loki saw you to your office and huffed about his brother’s usual lateness. Bucky and his men appeared shortly after and the builders continued their work in a storm of hammers and drills.

You sat with your ledger as Thor winked at you before following his brother from the office. He was anything but subtle but you could use his lechery to your advantage. You bent over the columns but did not see the numbers. Instead, you went over your plot.

Men, you realised a little too late, were easy. You just had to appeal to their most basic instincts. Feed their egos and you could feed yourself. You bit your lip as you shoved down your anxiety. There were many ways this could go wrong.

You were surprised to look up and find Bucky in your doorway. His arms were crossed as he watched you. He bit his thumb as he came closer and dropped his hands to hook his thumbs in his pocket.

“You’re going away tomorrow,” he said as he pulled up a chair and sat. “Your boss is a coward. Sending you away. I know he just can’t stand the idea of you and me, sweetheart.”

You looked at him and nodded. He leaned back and cracked his neck.

“That’s quite a swing you got. Hell of an arm.” He chuckled, “can’t say it didn’t hurt.”

You swallowed and set down your pencil. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, you should’ve hit us harder,” he bent his arm against the chair and rubbed his index with his thumb. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You looked down and batted your lashes. Your thoughts whirred and you fought to still them.

“Ah, sweetheart, this is messy, isn’t it?”

“He’ll never let me go,” you said softly, “he won’t.”

Bucky was quiet. You heard his sole scrape the floor and the chair creaked. “But you want away from him?”

“Of course I do,” you looked up tearily, “but I know how he is. It’s why--” you sniffed, “well, you don’t care about all that. You only want one thing.”

He frowned and lowered his hand as he leaned forward. “Now sweetheart, you know I like you for more than that. I wouldn’t still be chasin’ you around if I didn’t.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Don’t lie to me.”

He raised a brow and sighed. “I know I haven’t been… gentle but I didn’t lie when I said I’d give you better.”

“You can’t--”

“He’s sending you with his brother, right?”

You furrowed your brow and nodded. “He doesn’t trust me,” you said, “and he’s mad. He wants to punish me.”

Bucky poked his cheek with his tongue and thought. “You really knocked some sense into me, sweetheart, and I hate to see what he made you do last night. I’d never make you walk around like that in front of other men. You’d be mine, only mine.”

“You shouldn’t be saying all this.”

“He shouldn’t be sending you away.”

“Well,” you threw your hands up, “what can I do?”

“You do nothing,” he said, “all you gotta do is what I tell you.”

“I don’t--”

“I’ll take care of Loki and I got men who can deal with his dumb brother,” Bucky intoned, “you just gotta say the word.”

Your heart hammered. This wasn’t what you expected but it could still work. You searched Bucky’s face and leaned forward and lowered your voice. “Why?”

“I didn’t buy a casino to work with Loki, only to get close enough to him,” he growled, “this peace was never gonna last.”

“What--”

“You go with Thor as planned. Act like normal, like nothing’s changed. Get him to that antique shop and my men will take care of the rest. You’ll be safe, you got my word.”

“You want me to go against Loki?”

“I want you to jump ship before it sinks,” he said coolly, “I’d hate to see you drown, sweetheart.”

“Why would I do that? Trade him for you? How is that any different for me?”

Bucky inhaled deeply and smirked, “you haven’t given me a chance, sweetheart, but your other choice isn’t so good. This is still business, if I gotta put you down with him, I will.”

You folded your hands on the desk and scrunched your lips. You fought not to show your own grin that threatened to burst through. These men were so focused on each other and their war, they didn’t realise the big picture could be skewed by the finer details.

👄

Loki was waiting for you. You knocked on his door but it was unlocked. You entered and found him in a black robe with a glass of wine. He didn’t acknowledge you as you turned the lock or even as you neared him. He tossed back the last of the cabernet and set the glass aside.

His green eyes met yours at last and he stretched his arms over the back of the couch. He was slightly drunk, you could tell by the colour in his cheeks. His gaze fell down your figure and he beckoned you forth with two fingers.

“I hate to admit it but I think I will miss you,” he slid one hand along the front of his robe and unknotted the belt. He pulled it open and exposed his erection, “you will depart with my brother in the morning and he will see you to the city.”

You wriggled out of your dress and let it pile at your feet. You unhooked your bra as he began to play with himself and shimmied out of your panties. You stepped in front of him and bent to brace his shoulders as you climbed up to straddle you.

“Do you think I’ll be back or is this goodbye?” you asked.

“What do you mean?” he rasped.

“You don’t think I’ll be caught?”

He narrowed his eyes and touched your hips. He pulled you down until his tip slid along your folds.

“Do you?” he challenged.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you confessed.

“You have my brother, his men and mine,” he pushed you further and slid inside of you with a gasp. “When we are rid of Diablo and his deception, we will deal with Barnes. You will be mine, pet, only mine.”

“Would you want me when he is gone?” you ran your nails down his chest and he shivered.

“You would be thankful to only be my accountant again,” he gripped your hips as he moved your body, “but I don’t think I could let you be just that.”

“You’re drunk, Loki,” you taunted, put off by his unusual candour.

“I’m horny,” he admitted, “and you feel good.”

You purred and kept rocking in his lap. Despite your loathing, your helplessness, you were soothed by his body. For once, it wasn’t rough, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t punishing. With what could be disaster facing you, you wanted to bask in this last moment of peace. Fuck away the stress and the fear.

“You never fucked me like this, pet,” he reached to cup your tit, “you’re afraid?”

You lowered your head tellingly and sped up. You didn’t want to talk, you just wanted to get off. Even if you despised him, even if it was wrong. He groaned and hung his head back against the couch as he teased your nipples with his thumbs.

“Perhaps it is that I am merely preferable to that animal, Barnes. The lesser of two evils? I do not mind that.”

He clenched his teeth as he watched the way you glided up and down his length. Your thighs burned as you rode him eagerly, wishing he would just shut up. He snarled as you leaned into him and he took your nipple between his lips and nibbled.

You dug your nails into his shoulders and gasped for breath as you neared your climax. You closed your eyes and the hotel room slaked away. You weren’t there, you weren’t with him, you were only reaching for your bliss. You were so close; so close to being free, even if it wasn’t forever.

“Oh, darling,” he grunted and his hips bucked as you reached down to play with your clit.

He came inside of you as your walls clenched him and you guided yourself to your own orgasm with your fingers and the fullness. You stopped and sat back as you wiped away the sweat from your brow. You exhaled and he tilted his hips so that you tensed around him.

“I will have a surprise for you on your return,” he swore as his green irises flamed, “oh, I think you should like it very much.”

You watched him as he closed his eyes and caught his breath. You blinked as your head spun and you caught his implication. Just as Bucky planned to strike his foe, Loki plotted much the same. You hid your delight and latched onto the back of the couch as you began to move again. You should have realised earlier how easy these men were.

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Text

Playing with Fire

Part Five of the Just this Once Series

Warnings: Smut (no actual smut tho guys sorry), Masturbation (f), Teasing, Language, Dirty talk, Terrible Star Wars knowledge

Word Count: 2.3K+

Summary: A tease through the links and a bet fulfilled.

A/N: This chapter is a little short, but I hope you all enjoy! This may seem a little anti climatic and messy but that’s on me guys, that’s my bad. Also this may seem different in tone if that makes sense? The next one will be more smutty goodness but with some injuries (and yes i used another random star wars planet don’t kill mee)

You’ve finally figured it out.

After about a week of travelling to your next destination, it finally occurs to you to just play at his own game. You know—fingering you in a crowded cantina, smirking to himself while you struggled to stay quiet in that fucking booth...

But first, you must say that Edis is a strange place. Rain falling at every hour with apparently no signs of ever letting up, and the humidity is unforgiving—how Mando is handling it in all that armor and padding, you’re almost too afraid to ask, because there’s just no way that he’s comfortable, and an uncomfortable Mando can lead to a grumpy one.

Maker you’re grumpy yourself if you’re being honest. The Child has been restless lately, like the heat is getting to him as well, and that’s been taking a toll on your (already) poor sleep schedule; Mando tries to help, but there’s only so much he can do. However, it has given you the chance to think of the perfect payback for your little deal—or bet is a better word—and you gotta say, you’re a little proud of yourself for coming up with this evil—and small—tryst in the first place.

If it’ll work the way you want it to, time will tell.

“Were you even listening?”

The modulated crackle startles you from your thoughts. You turn in the pilot’s seat, making contact with the visor and the stiffness of his posture confirms your suspicions—he’s hot and grumpy.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Lost in my thoughts.”

He doesn’t acknowledge it. “I’m leaving. They should be nearby, and everything should work out as long as you and the ship stay hidden.”

Like anyone could. Mando isn’t messing around on this one—well, the man doesn’t mess around with anything, actually—and he’s made damn sure that not only are you available with a few weapons nearby (some hidden, of course, just in case), but that the Razor Crest is shadowed by towering trees a bushes in this small part of the rainforest; it’s nearly impossible to even see the gunk through the one of the thickest part of the forest. If anything finds you, they most likely won’t come back alive.

“Okay. Good luck.”

He gives you one nod and the cape whips as he turns around, strutting towards the ladder as you follow behind. Mando checks on the kid—sitting up in the middle of the haul with a few little toys surrounding him—and gives him a gentle caress of his floppy ear before using his vambrace to open the ramp. He doesn’t give you a glance back, and that’s okay with you, but you can’t deny the slight stinging in your chest when he disappears into the foreign planet.

“Alright little guy,” you say with a grunt as you plop down on the floor next to the Child. “Let’s figure out what to do.”

***

Ten days.

Mando has been gone longer on bounties like this, believe or not, but that still doesn’t ease your increasing anxiety when the com link stays silent; you suppose you’re used to the quickness of his updates.

Today, after hours of entertaining the baby the best you could, you can finally settle comfortably in the pilot’s chair… but now what?

Sleep, your body says, because what else is there really to do? Don’t, your mind tells you, because you have the baby here alone on an unfamiliar planet and anything could happen. A part of you wants to go out and check the foreign terrain. One look shouldn’t hurt—

“Hey,” his voice speaks through in statics.

You quickly fumble with the com, feeling like a clumsy mess when you almost drop it in your haste; he’s caught you by surprise, for about the hundredth time.

“Y-yeah. Yeah I’m here,” you stammer.

“Not so close,” he tells you, annoyed and tired.

You wince and pull your hand back from your mouth. “Sorry. Good news, I hope?”

“Yes. And no. It’ll be at least a few days before we’re out of here.”

That sucks.

You suspect that the quarry is indeed with him by the short words, and that’s okay, because with your plan now in the front of your brain, fresh anew like the first time you cococked it in the wake of sleep, washing your quick irritation away, your chance is finally here.

“Mando,” you say as sweetly as you can—your heart skips a beat when there’s a moment of silence. “They can’t hear me, right?” you continue before you can find out if the com is dead or not.

This is incredibly risky. Even a little unfair of sorts, given that he’s technically working right now, and that leaves no room for games or distractions—the moment is just too good to pass up.

Another minute goes by. You sink in your chair in disappointment, ready to admit defeat.

“Not now.”

Yes.

“This was part of the deal, Mando,” you remind him. “And I’m already starting to get wet.”

That isn’t a lie. The slickness of your arousal is starting to seep from your core—fourteen days (counting the week it took to get here) is a long time, and as long as you can get him to keep talking, this will work beautifully for you.

A pause. “I can’t…”

“I’ll do all the talking,” you lick your lips and slink down comfortably, sliding your hand along the length of your neck, imagining it’s his hand wrapping around your throat. “You just listen. You can do that, can’t you?”

You wait, and for a split second you’re afraid that, yet again, you’ve done something wrong. You really have to start working on that.

“You don’t—”

“Okay.”

Maker. Maker okay.

“I uh—” what were you going to say to him when you thought of this in the first place? “I… you know what I think about when you’re gone?” You know he can’t answer much, not without giving himself away, but you pause anyway for dramatic effect. “First, I imagine you stalking towards me like you always do… like I’m one of your bounties.”

Your pussy quivers in excitement as you close your eyes and picture him doing just that, sliding your hand down to your chest, groping your covered breast and trying to mimic the same amount of pressure he applies to them—you really wish it was his hand instead.

“Then you cage me in, leaving me with nowhere to go. There’s a specific type of exceleration to it. One that makes things even more… exciting.” You pinch your nipple and whine, loud enough to give him a good show—Stars you hope that quarry can’t hear you through the baskar bucket of his. “You like to drag it out, to watch me shiver in anticipation, and fuck if I don’t like it either.”

You can hear the light breathing through the comlink. A spark of victory, early victory, runs through your body and straight to your pussy, neglected and hungry for any type of friction.

“And then,” your hand slides further down to the waistline of your pants, fumbling with the buttons. “You touch me. Softly, at first, because you love to tease—” a barely audible sigh interrupts, bringing a cheeky grin to your lips. “—and I think you’re an ass man, because you never miss a chance to lay your hands on mine.” Your fingers slither their way under your panties; your inner thighs twitch at the first brush of your finger against your aching clit, and more slickness escapes your cunt. “And you ghost your fingers over my breasts, down my stomach, over my hips where you like to grip them tight, to my dripping pussy…”

Not a peep from the com. You’re surprised he’s kept his composure. You shouldn’t be, yet a part of you is.

“And,” you go on with a moan. “When I feel your thick fingers paw at me, rip my clothes off and fuck my pussy deep, getting me ready for your big cock while your teeth scrapes against my neck—oh fuck…” The curse slips from your lips without warrant; your fingers buried in your pussy like you’re explaining to him. “My fingers are not the same—” you bite down on your lip as you curve your fingers, delicately trying to find the spot Mando finds with precision. “They don’t make me feel as full as yours do. But I’m still fucking myself with them, Mando. While you’re out there, and I’m in here… it sucks, doesn’t it. Having to stay quiet when all’s you want to do is fuck me until I can feel you for days and day after, your cum leaking from me, and who knows, maybe I won’t even let you cum.”

“You will,” he nearly growls, and that’s an early sign you’re in a world of trouble when he does get back. “That’s part of the deal.”

“...What...deal…”

The faint voice cuts in annoyingly, and Mando shoots back with a decent threat that’d make you terrified for your life; again, it’s probably wrong that it does nothing to deteriorate the fluttering of your wet muscles.

“Keep going,” his tone leaves no room for argument.

Your fingers move faster. “I think you should be a little nicer to me,” you sigh dramatically. “You’ve been gone for so long, leaving me all by lonesome… you like to do this a lot I’ve realized, leave me high and dry. But you might have a chance to fuck my face if you’re a good boy.”

You have to stifle your giggle at the last bit.

“Yeah, you’d like that,” you coo. “And I’d swallow every drop.”

A barely audible exhale filters through the link. You’re right there with him, your face scrunched in concentration.

“I’m happy as long as you’re inside me,” you continue on with delight. “You’re an asshole sometimes, but you can fuck.”

Mando sighs again, this time feigned with theatorical frustration—well in his case, it may be truthful, but it sounds more for the quarry’s (and yours) benefit than the latter.

This is more of an ego boost for him more than anything as well, if you think about it, but as long as you get him riled up and you cum, that’s enough for you. So you curve your fingers the best you can given the compromised position and flick your thumb against your clit, images of his gloves sliding down your pants in the cantina playing through on repeat. This time you moan louder for your own amusement, imagining him struggle; it’s sweet, sweet revenge.

“And?” He asks suddenly—calm and steady.

His voice, even modulated like that, makes your muscles twitch as the coil in your lower stomach boils to a tight flame, and the sloshes of your fingers slinking in and out of you adds to the euphoria clawing through your core.

“Your cock,” you whimper. “Stretches me out so good every time. You’re so big, Mando, so thick in every way and it feels amazing. I bet you miss the way my sweet cunt clenches around you.” You bite down on your lip to hide a groan, wanting to hear his response as your fingers move even faster, scratching against the itch. “Don’t you?”

Your pussy flutters around your fingers at the first scrape against your sweet spot (finally!), and—well fuck, you’ve never seen much of him to actually picture what his cock looks like driving in and out of you at the verioucious pace he usually chooses, so this is a little bit difficult than you thought it’d be; as long as you keep fucking yourself like this…

“Yes.”

Your breath shakes as you exhale. “Shit I wish you were here right now,” you rub your clit harder. “I-I want you to fuck me so hard when you get back, Mando. Want you to—hmm—to grab me so hard that I have bruises the next day. Use me. And you’d come right in my tight little pussy, isn’t that right?”

You don’t expect him to answer this time. Not when you’re so gone in your little cheraid and your pussy clenches harder and harder until there’s nothing but white noise tying you down to this moment.

“Fuck. Fuck I’m so close.”

You try to conjure the feelings Mando gives you—the feel of his hands, pressing down all over you, fingers leaving indents in your skin, his mouth on your neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh until you’re marked; the drag of his cock along your slick walls until there’s tears in your eyes and you can feel him all the way to your cervix.

“Mando,” you whine, then bite down on your lip again; the Child certainly doesn’t need to hear this. “I… I need to hear you. Say something, anything.”

“Go ahead,” gruffer, close to a grunt—your pussy gushes at that. “Now.”

The command is clear, and it’s not going to take you that much to ride the waves of your orgasm starting to crash down over you. Your moans and whimpers trapped behind tight closed lips and your fingers covered in your juices, it takes a few more curves of your fingers and tight circles on your clit to feel the hard and delectable clench of your inner muscles.

“Yes,” your body trembles. “Oh Ma—” You hide the rest of the plea behind a muffled scream as short bursts of pleasure sparks through your entire body, your fingers trapped in the squeeze of your cunt as more juices flood down the slope of your ass, milking every drop of your orgasm.

After a few long moments your tense muscles relax and deflate, relieved and satisfied. Though, the only problem is that it is short lived, an orgasm small enough to hold you over until the real deal comes back. Speaking of…

“Mando?” You breathe. “Still with me?”

“I’ll be there soon. Be ready.” And then nothing.

Chuckling to yourself, you wince as you slowly pull your fingers out, wiping your slick covered fingers on your pants.

And now you wait.

For however long that’ll fucking be.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #fanfic #the mandalorian imagines #pedro pascal

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 27 - Keeping Your Head Up

Masterlist; Chapter 26

Summary: Sleepless nights and plotting the way forward. You and Neil finally talk about the approaching battle. The conversation provides the spark for action.

Warnings: 18+ (not so implied content, if ya know what I mean); swearing.

Author's Notes: Here we go, earlier than I expected because who said that uni should be more important than fanfiction. This one goes through the whole spectrum of human emotions and I'm not even sure what's going on... but here it is. And I'll hope you'll enjoy! Let me know what you think?

P.S. Yes, Stalsk is soon. Yes, I'm terrified. How about you? :)))

Once the last arcs of light disappeared from the night sky and the troops started to disperse, one look exchanged with Neil was enough to help you decide. You led him through the ship’s quarters, hands holding tightly in the unspoken promise. Whatever happened during the aurora only confirmed what you knew from the previous night. There was no question of giving him up. One does not give up on the love of their life. Simple.

As the door to your cabin closed, both of you knew what had to happen. Neil wound his arm around your waist, pushing you against the wall. No space left between your bodies as your gazes met:

“I love you,” a whisper leaving his mouth reverence and certainty.

With the pulse pounding in your ears, you took the words off his mouth with a kiss. Hunger and need betrayed by your eager hands, grabbing hold of his sweater and pulling him down. In response, Neil kissed you harder, lips bruising, teeth tearing the skin to make you understand. Soon it became a duel of passion, each desperate to push the other off the edge. To stake the claim. Mindless of time and caution, you tugged at the clothes and stole the breath from each other’s lungs. Minutes passed, but it was never quite enough. Never satisfied. Only once the lightheadedness made you feel close to passing out from the lack of oxygen, you broke the kiss with a gasp. Your eyes opened to see Neil gazing back at you with a grin on his face. He glanced at your mouth as you licked off the saliva, chasing the taste for that second longer. Then, lost in the daze, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his chest.

“What?” he gently cradled your head, pulling you closer into the strange hug.

With words missing, you took the additional moment to catch your breath and piece together a response:

“It’s... this is good. I don’t want it to end” a shy smile which he could not even see.

Still, the truth. Your idle hands ventured underneath the clothes, settling on the belt loops with the thumbs grazing over his sides. The warmth of the skin, a vivid reminder about the previous night. Something within your reach.

“It won’t. I’m never letting you go again,” confirming the words he tightened the hold, “Do you want to pick up the conversation or...” Neil trailed off, something in his voice arousing curiosity.

You raised your head, noticing the hint of a smirk on his lips. And the sparks in his eyes.

“Or?” courageous fingers ghosting over his stomach, bringing out sharp inhales.

You were never someone who paid too much attention to men’s musculature. It was never on the list of ‘requirements’ or expectations. And yet, as you carefully brushed your fingertips over his firm abdomen, that spark of satisfaction was there. And attraction, never waning since you first laid your eyes on him.

“We could continue with this...” ignorant of your thoughts, Neil searched your face with hints of hesitation in his eyes, “But only if you want to. I wouldn’t want you to think that all I’m here for is…” the deepening frown made you snap out of the reverie and shut him up with a finger against the mouth.

“Neil,” firmly, yet with a playful smile upon your lips, “You’re telling that to someone who just considered fainting if it meant extending that kiss,” your grin widening upon the shock on his face.

And then he grinned, cupping your cheek and brushing the pad of thumb over your lower lip. Drawing out a sigh with ease that not that long ago would have embarrassed you. Now there was no reason to hide it.

“Fair point” Neil smiled lightly, gaze distant showing you that he still had some things to say, “It’s just that…”

His eyes met yours a helpless plea. To understand, to chase away the worries and doubts. He did not need to ask for that.

“Yes?” you picked up the conversation, fingers running through his hair.

The gesture both a comfort and a way of reminding him of where you were. Of what you could give him if he only agreed. Judging by the way he leaned into your touch, it did work. After a beat, he met your gaze again, words pouring out with desperation and self-directed bitterness:

“We’ve lost so much time because of my stupidity. And I feel like it’s running out. If there’s not much left, then I want to give you all I’ve got” the earnest look stealing away the remains of breath from your lungs “And words can only go as far. Some of what I feel can’t be expressed like that, it’s...” trailing off, he faltered as though uncertain.

Oh god. It felt almost surreal to understand. That he would be questioning your desire to have sex again after all the confessions and admitted truths. That he would worry about going too far. As if that was not exactly what you wanted. All because he cared too much about your issues with being this close. Idiot. Ignoring the need to stop his silly doubts with a kiss, you tilted his chin and made sure he could see the longing in your eyes:

“I don’t need much convincing to agree for a repeat of last night. Only an idiot would’ve said no to all that… pleasure” simply, just as letting your free hand bravely brush over his crotch.

The answering gasp was more than promising. You could see the resolve breaking as he tried to level the breathing. Fingers taking hold of your shirt, toying with the material. Knuckles brushing over the skin on your stomach. The internal conflict close to a resolution. A favourable one. Only…

“You’re not tired?” the blue eyes full of concern and unmeasurable yearning.

Too good. With heart close to bursting from the amount of love, you took that as the cue to be brave. To be honest and show him the extent of need ravaging through your blood:

“I am. But I want you” purposefully meeting his gaze with an unguarded look, “I want to feel your hands on my body. To make love with you, knowing that you’re mine,” you observed as he swallowed hard, hands grasping onto your waist underneath the shirt “To feel you inside me” the conclusion whispered as your courage wavered.

Because that was a first. Explicitly stating wants and desires were never a forte, with the insecurities and anxiety making you forgo every attempt. Until now, with Neil, who was stunned into silence. His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly as the words sunk in. He understood.

You barely had the time to register when his lips crashed against yours in the kiss to put every single one before it to shame. This time there was no moderation, no slowness in any of your actions. Hands barely had the time to catch up with the needs as you both fumbled around with the clothes. A casualty – the cup of tea abandoned by the bed sent tumbling onto the floor. But you have not even noticed, too occupied by Neil, his skilful hands and breathtaking moves.

Logic of your closeness startling in its simplicity. Without needing to ask, he made sure you were ready, consent chased at every stage with something as straightforward as eyes searching yours, looking for that nod. For the spark, that told him what you wanted. And then, as he allowed you to have everything once again, gazes locked and held. Love passed with each sigh, shudder and moan. Faster and harder, seeking that familiar rush. Confirming what you both knew already. Never enough. Hands worshipping every inch of your body as you drove him to the edge and over, following suit. This time you did not bite back on words that settled on the tip of your tongue. With every single instance, the three words rolled off with more ease. That moment not any different, the I love you whispered as he offered you the necessary release, sealed with a kiss and explosion of pleasure. Nothing came close. Nothing ever would.

***

The quietness of the moment right after was astonishing in its tranquility. Neil pulled you back down to lie next to him on the bed with your head propped on his chest, the heartbeat a constant white noise bringing peace. With those careful hands caressing your skin, there was no place for insecurities. Only the overwhelming feeling of completeness, as if now when you knew that your heart was safely his, everything else has sunk into the background. That, of course, was an illusion, one that had to be shattered pretty quickly with the reminder about the topic you were yet to discuss. But it could wait. Just a little longer.

“Not a bad way to finish off the evening,” the low murmur tinted with a playful edge.

Of course. Despite the warmth spreading through your body, you grinned, arms embracing him tightly, even if only to show agreement. It really was. And yet…

“Was it still that good? Like you said, in the morning-” the eternal need for validation speaking up before you could properly gather the thoughts.

Thankfully, Neil sensed what was coming before you did. He sat up, dragging you with him.

“Christ, you-” the exasperation betrayed by the heavy sigh, “If I need to tell you how amazing it was every time we have sex, then I will. Keep that in mind” he observed you closely, taking in the spreading blush and deepening shock “My love” an addition followed by a bop on the nose.

Just like that. Without giving you time to react, he laid down again. This time you seemingly had a choice, no arms holding you close as if to show that you were free to suffer the doubts alone. As if. With a quiet huff, you settled back on the bed facing him. The lack of touch felt strange.

“I’ll take that as a warning” stubbornly, you met his gaze, awaiting nothing but satisfaction.

Rightfully so. The infamous smirk graced his lips as he stared at you fondly. Maybe it was time to abandon the uncertainty. Maybe you really got that lucky.

“You should,” as though he too was missing the contact, he reached out to stroke your cheek slowly, “And yes, it was still very much mind-blowingly good. Splendid. Terrific” with each word, the blush was darkening.

Neil’s smugness growing exponentially. Too much.

“Okay, stop,” ignoring the sudden desire to punch him, you chose the puppy-eyed look instead, “Please,” placing your hands on his shoulders if only to assert the dominance.

The sudden flash of darkness within the blue eyes was unexpected. And fascinating.

“Make me,” a whisper accompanied by his touch trailing down your stomach.

That was a challenge you gladly accepted. Using the moment of stagnation, you rolled over to trap him beneath you. His eyes swept over your chest, hands settling on your waist, making everything easier as always. It was not difficult to lean in and shut him up with another breathtaking kiss, with teeth catching that frustrating lower lip showing him why it was unwise to test you. The answering groan and tightening grip were good enough confirmation. And also, a perfect moment to let go and let him suffer alone.

The offended look on his face - absolutely delightful. You waited patiently as he got over the initial shock and wound his arm around your waist once again. From the wistfulness on Neil’s face, you could tell that he was not done:

“Now I know why I’ve always been so drawn to you. You’ve got quite the skillset” the meaningful look giving more confidence than anything ever “And, mind you, I might be catastrophically in love with you but that… no wonder we couldn’t keep our hands off each other” accentuating the meaning, he cupped your face once again “You’re unforgettable. Wonderful. Extraordinary. And mine” the litany closed off with happiness in his eyes “Which is why I’ll start counting my blessings” a kiss on your forehead finishing the speech.

You met his gaze with a gaping mouth. What on earth… That amount of affection expressed just like that was overwhelming. The only thing that could be done was to hug him tightly and hide from the fond look by burying your head in the crook of his neck. The warmth of your bodies slowly lulling you back into the peaceful illusion of safety. Into believing that the drama was truly beyond you. Only one last issue circulating your brain, nagging at the thoughts and creating ‘what ifs’ that needed answering. Maybe…

“I’ve got one more silly question before I’ll be quiet for eternity” your whisper broke the silence with the husky timbre.

You felt Neil’s low chuckle before you heard it. His hand stroking your back without a stutter. As if that was second nature. As if he always knew how to touch you but held back. Until now.

“Go on then,” you raised your head in time to see a happy grin, “Miss silly questions,” fingertips skirting over your profile, stopping at your mouth.

The ghost-like touch, parting your lips just because it was possible. Because casual intimacy was no longer out of bounds. Ignoring the sudden onrush of feelings, you chose to use the rare courage to your advantage:

“Are you my boyfriend now? Is that what I should call you?” blurting out the questions with deepening blush and increasing embarrassment.

Too clingy. What if he wanted to keep this casual, without labels? And you just messed it up? Like everything in your life. Before the sabotage could take over, a familiar hand tilted your chin up. The blue eyes, searching yours, looking for clues towards the extent of self-inflicted damage. Whatever he found was enough to call for a soft kiss, followed by a cheeky smile:

“Boyfriend, partner... husband, whatever you want darling,” the wink almost making you brush over the words.

Almost. Your brain froze as you remembered the meaning of the terms used. The ridiculousness of it all taking away the last bits of reason.

“... We’re not married,” staring at him as though he has officially lost it, you stated the obvious.

Only the answering grin was not that obvious. Or the way he took hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact.

“Are you sure about that?” the arched eyebrow adding the final blow.

There was no end to the shock as the absurd of everything caught up. The laugh could not be contained anymore, giggles interrupting whatever you could want to tell him. The happy look in his eyes, making everything even worse. Only once you could catch your breath again, an expression of exasperation the only thing passing through your throat:

“Jesus Christ… Neil” a hint of warning.

Mostly to stop being so bloody charming. Even with spite, it was difficult to find flaws in that beautiful face. Or to stop the constant flood of affection whenever your gazes locked. He looked completely unbothered, amused by your reaction.

“You knew what you’re signing up for,” a shrug showing no remorse whatsoever.

He did have a point. Still.

“Yes, but… I hate you sometimes,” the words triggered by the eternal frustration, “You with your perfect eyes and jaw that cut through my defences. And let’s not even mention all that smooth talk” ever so casually, you traced the outline of his jawline.

Catching the hints of something darker in his expression, you felt the need from before return. Making you cling closer to him, find a temporary fix for the addiction in the way you fit together. Legs entwined; comfort brought by something as simple as the possibility to share the pillow with him. Or the option to get lost in his gaze, let his hands explore all the curves and edges. Everything that you could offer.

“And yet,” the simplicity of his answer was enough to make you grin.

Distractedly, you let your fingers skim down his chest, watching with fascination at how easy it was to treat him as yours. The naturality of the conversation and the variety of responses to keep up the banter. Effortless. Before you found the right words, Neil traced the path down your thigh, creating the tiniest sparks of electricity.

“My most humiliating defeat,” you admitted with a feigned disappointment painted on your face.

That seemed to be the bait he needed. You observed with satisfaction the way his eyes lit up. The cheeky smile back on his lips. There we go.

“You didn’t seem humiliated. Just now,” hand getting dangerously close to the space between your thighs “More like… satisfied” Neil shifted forward, closing the gap between your faces “By me” a low whisper before he captured your lips in a kiss.

A hard one that deepened the bruises and showed you why you had no choice but to give in. Why resting within his embrace was where you were meant to be. You let the feelings consume you whole, clinging even closer to him, arms holding him tightly, letting the breathlessness roam free. The only cue to end the kiss came from Neil, who has run out of oxygen and ended the contact with a sharp gasp. He did not let go, however, extending the hug for at least five minutes, during which you both savoured the moment. The quiet only disturbed with the sounds of your breathing and the synchronised heartbeats, marking the passage of time. It would be easy to fall asleep like that, feeling safe and loved. Finally important to someone. Finally his. But you knew that the things needing talking over would catch up eventually. And so, with the heart getting heavier and the body aching for more, you let go and disentangled enough to meet his eyes again. Nothing but affection there. It was that overwhelming love that prodded the next reflection:

“Sometimes I can’t quite believe you’re real” you let yourself stare a little longer, taking in his infatuated gaze and ruffled hair.

His beauty always startling in its harshness. The angles and sharp edges capable of shattering a heart. You knew that best of all. And yet, with the blue eyes that always showed a myriad of feelings, he was not intimidating, only absolutely fascinating. Someone you could admire for hours and would never have enough. Now, with your curious glance reflected and gentle touch caressing your temple, the luck felt almost immeasurable. Because how could you get this fortunate?

“I am, all yours to touch... and do whatever else you want,” the response bringing the confirmation.

It was that simple. The darker glimmer in his eyes told you as much. You hoped the smile was a good enough answer, for there were no words. Neil acknowledged your speechlessness with a timid smile, as though he too needed time to get used to the new dynamic. To the honesty and unrestrained confessions passed between you to make up for the lost time. The longing in his gaze was enough to let you know that it was time. That you could not stall anymore.

“Tempting…but…” you let out a long exhale and forced out the serious tone, “We should talk,”

One look in his direction told you he understood. The smile wiped off his face in an instant, the frown replacing the previous shyness. With the sudden need to make your circumstances a little bit more bearable, you got up and took hold of his t-shirt abandoned on the floor. Without thinking too much, you slipped it on and turned back to face Neil. An answering grin was a needed reassurance. You observed as he put on the boxers and settled back next to you, instantly drawing you into a half embrace with an arm placed over your shoulders and a hand resting on your thigh. It was all the comforts you could hope for beginning the difficult topic. Nothing to hold you back now. One look at him was enough to permit you to start. Alas…

“Every second I’m falling harder in love with you, and there’s no end to it,” the opening sentence getting out without a stutter as you stared at his fingers idly tracing patterns on your bare skin “I might not understand much-” watching with horror as he opened his mouth to protest you closed it with hand placed over his lips “No, Neil, let me say it” firmly, gaze held to show the determination; after a beat, he nodded and you resumed “I don’t understand much. Probably a quarter of what you know since you’re the smart one here, but... I refuse to give up before we try to make it work together. Let me help you” you could see the conflict brewing in his eyes, thousands of worries passing through his face; one last thing to say “I like to think that there’s a reason why I’ve been brought into this. That I’ve got a bigger role to play than being your lover” you whispered the word shyly, as if almost unsure if it was the right one.

It seemed correct, but… With growing uncertainty, you watched as Neil’s frown deepened. Then he seemed to consider something with eyes closed as though needing to block you out of the picture. That did not help the anxiety. Before your heartbeat could kick in with the elevated speed, he faced you again with new emotions painted all over the features. Most obvious of all – hesitancy. And then…

“You’re much more than that,” a long inhale as though that could give him courage, “You’re… You could be my- We could-” he faltered, the blue eyes looking anywhere but at you.

With your mind starting up the sirens for the world-ending kind of emergency, you could only blurt out the straightforward questions:

“What? What are you trying to say?” your voice wavered, betraying the chaos within.

It was that one false note vibrating through your vocal cords that made Neil calm down a fraction. Finally, he met your widened gaze, and after an extended second of soul-searching, he responded:

“I want to marry you… even today,” oh “If you’d want that, of course,” a hurried addition, with eyebrows knitting together and teeth nibbling on the lower lip restlessly.

Oh. Christ. Now nothing was stopping your pulse from picking up the tempo. The blood rushed into your cheeks as the words sunk in. That was far from anything you expected to hear. Now or ever. From him or anybody else. The sight he presented at the moment told you that there was no point in doubting the authenticity of the proposal. No one would look this terrified because of a lie. With words missing, you could only let out a half-hearted laugh:

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the forced lightness bouncing off his rigid resolve with the speed of light.

He took your hand in his, thumb brushing over the knuckles. Additional regard given to your ring finger almost thoughtlessly. It was hard to remember about something as basic as breathing as you stared at him, pondering his very next sentence. An explanation, hopefully.

“I’m serious. I need you to understand how much I love you. More than I can express and enough to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you” the earnest look stunning you into silence with his beauty.

The confession needing at least two business days to be processed and understood. But there was no time for that. The part of your heart that has fallen in love with him circa New York ready to abandon logic and say yes. No matter the approaching battle, the lack of reason or sense in any of this. But that voice had to be silenced. For now.

“Neil… You can’t- It’s been less than a day since we-” you stumbled over the protest, failing to piece together a coherent argument.

Because it was both a yes, and a no. Yes, I want to marry you. Not now. Not yet. Not with the world on fire and uncertain chances of survival. But how do you say that?

“I know, but I’ve been feeling like this for months. And everything that happened showed me that I’m right. I need you” your internal monologue got cut short by Neil’s response, “But if… if you don’t want me like that, it’s alright. I-” it was the sudden insecurity betrayed by the stutter that alerted you.

You could not allow him to doubt your feelings like this. Never again. Following the instincts, you clamped your hand over his mouth again, cutting off the horrifying ramblings.

“Shut up,” you met his gaze and replaced the hand with your mouth, kissing him slowly, “I want you, exactly like that. But I want to have a future with you, filled with so much love and understanding that it will make my heart ache” the meaningful look focused only on the man inches away from you “That’s why we need to work together. So, one day if you’ll still feel the same… you’ll ask me properly, and I’ll say yes” the breathless addition costing you blush on the cheeks and a flash of anxiety.

The best answer you could offer hanging in the tense silence. Hesitantly, you looked at him again, searching for a response. The knowledge that he understood your plea and was willing to accept it. As your eyes locked, Neil smiled, the expression brightening up the mood in an instant. Maybe it would be alright.

“That might have been the most poetic rejection I’ve ever heard,” he murmured, and before you could comment on that, captured your lips in a kiss.

Gently showing you that he understood. Deepening the contact, making the reality catch up. It was real. He wanted you, and not just now. Loved you enough to marry you if the universe allowed. That was a prospect good enough to fight for. An idea to fight off the doubts and worries. Because no matter what your brain had to offer in exchange, it could not compare. Ending the kiss, on a contented sigh, you rested your forehead against his. Taking an additional moment to level the breathing and stare into the eyes that have seen the inside of your soul and accepted it.

“You took me by surprise,” the nervous grin appearing on your face on its own accord.

Neil mirrored it, fingers cupping your face and stroking your cheek tenderly.

“Sorry…” a kiss on the forehead “Since I woke up today and looked at you… it’s been on my mind. The idea that you’re the one, and I need to let you know somehow. An obvious way would be to make you my wife” an overwhelming wave of fondness passing through the system at his words.

Neil’s wife. That sounded good. Hopeful. A label you would be proud to have one day. Final confirmation of your love. That was the needed spark to steer the conversation back on the right track. You leaned in once again and laid a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Will you let me help you?” the simple question as you forced the seriousness once again.

This time he looked less nervous. Instead, you could see the battle playing out within his gaze. Fear and worry most prominent, close to tipping the scales and engulfing his mind within their shadow:

“I understand your logic… and why you want to go with me,” the diplomatic tone making you frown, “But… I don’t think I’ll be able to survive losing you. If something went wrong and you’d- I can’t let that happen” steel-cold resolve you knew from those disastrous meetings where this topic was the ultimate hot spot.

Now, technically, the issue of holding back was out of the way. Now neither of you had to pretend that you cared less; that there was anything else at stake but your feelings towards each other. Still, the fear of another argument was settling in the pit of your stomach as you aimed to answer with necessary determination:

“That goes both ways, Neil,” your comment causing him to look up with a surprise, “You need to understand that we’re both stubborn idiots who won’t let go. The best we can do is compromise” the softer tone needed to persuade him somehow.

You observed as he swallowed hard, your hand still within his grasp, now clutched tightly. As if he was afraid you would disappear if he relaxed the grip. Finally, he raised his head once again and met your searching gaze. Panic. Denial.

“But what if-” the words coming out strained, broken.

You did not like where it was going, and so you interrupted the supposition:

“What if what? There’s a reason why TP sent me those materials. Why he thought it’s crucial we know about the lock, and we prepare for it” the urgency crept into your voice, disrupting the illusion that you were the calmer one.

But how can one discuss something this important emotionlessly?

“Maybe they’re meant for me. So that I can go in there, open the gate, and leave” Neil’s answer made you snap up with sparks of passion burning in your eyes.

What you found on his face made it worse. It was that same resignation from before. As if he had no other choice but sacrifice himself. As if that was the only option, and he did not even want to consider alternatives. Why? Ignoring the desire to slap sense into him, you urged the reason to fight alongside you and put on the most definitive of voices:

“But what if something or someone stops you?” the question tearing through the fragile reality as you faced his conflicted look, “You’ve got reasons to come back now. Don’t you dare give me that same self-sacrificial crap” mindless of your need to stay strong, a single tear trailed down your cheek.

It fell perfectly onto your joined hands, making Neil look up sharply. His forehead creased with a new dose of angst as he reached out to wipe the wetness from your cheek. Taking a moment to stroke your neck then, gently caressing the skin as if it was necessary. As if the time was running out.

“Maybe this… maybe it’s all we’re meant to have. Those few days and-” the heartbroken look he gave you was enough to call for drastic measures.

Impatiently, you took hold of his free hand and grasped his chin to force him to meet your gaze:

“No” certain, no place for bargains, “I won’t give up on you without trying. You’ve made yourself essential to me, you’ve given me something else to… to be” you faltered, more tears streaking down your face; words needed but missing “I can’t let you take it away like that” a sudden stroke of anger adding inspiration for the very next argument “And why? Because ‘what’s happened happened’? That’s just another way of excusing inaction” with fascination you saw him flinch.

You have hit the right spot. Now it was the question of persisting. Of making him understand how ridiculously he was acting. How selfish it was to get himself killed in the name of philosophy. The wrong one, at that.

“It’s not. It’s an expression of fate in the mechanics of the world, not an excuse to-” he recited the words as though he knew them by heart.

As though it was his credo. Bullshit.

“Do nothing?” you completed the sentence with an arched brow, “And what is it that you’re planning to do?” biting edge unplanned but helpful.

If only to see him hesitate. No scripted cue for this question.

“Save the world. For you,” the candid answer taking you by surprise, “Because this the only way I can assure your survival” Neil stared at you with startling emptiness.

It was not exactly unexpected, but still. The fact that you mattered that much, the lengths he was willing to go to for your sake. Fuck. Overwhelmed with love and fear, your heart begged to be released. It thrashed within its cage, pulse pounding in your ears as you forced the brain to work. To tell him how wrong he was to think you wanted a life that did not guarantee his presence.

“The trouble is I don’t want to live in the world without you in it” that straightforward; making sure he held your gaze before continuing, “Listen to me. We will devise a plan, the best we can come up with, and then we’ll go in there together. I’ll cover you and help you escape after the job is done” you outlined the most reasonable of options and added upon his silence “It’s that simple,”

The conversation slowly draining the remains of energy in your body. You wanted nothing but to curl up in his embrace and sleep, forget about this whole mess, even if for a few hours. But you could not have that yet. Not with Neil offering yet another counterstrike:

“It’s everything but simple,” more worry in the stormy eyes, “I don’t know if I can do it… if I can let you…” he trailed off, the unspoken concerns making him interlace your fingers securely.

That called for the final defensive.

“Do you trust me?” you dropped the question with a neutral tone.

The answer hoped for but never taken for granted.

“Yes,” he did not stumble, the word rolling off his tongue with ease.

A rare surge of hope blooming in your chest.

“Then trust me on this too,” raising your joined hands to your lips and kissing his knuckles, “Together we can come up with something brilliant, I’m sure of it” a tentative smile to sign off the sentiment.

You did not know it was the gesture or your words that did it. You saw him waver, teeth nibbling on the bottom lip showing you the depth of the internal struggle. And then his eyes softened.

“You’ll need to be careful. I can’t risk losing you,” refusing to look at you, attention focused on your hands resting in the space between your folded legs.

It felt strange to know that you were this important. But it also explained everything, helping you find the solution to his worries and a way out of the stalemate.

“I know. I love you, and I’ve no plans of dying until we’re both ready to go. Together” you could only grin at his shocked expression, “So?”

You knew you had won the moment he cracked a tiny smile:

“…Okay… but only if you promise me that if things get nasty, you’ll leave. Without putting up a fight,” waiting for your response, he gazed into your soul, careful touch running up your thigh.

That seemed like an acceptable condition. One that offered space for maneuvers. One that could be argued with later.

“I promise,” the whisper opening up a space to lean in and kiss him.

Sealing your fates, confirming the beliefs. A final opportunity to show him why you were willing to do anything to save him. And vice versa.

As the kisses evolved into cuddles and the simple need to find comfort in each other, the tiredness caught up with you both. Another yawn interrupted the comfortable silence. Your hands were idly resting over Neil’s heart, the steady rhythm helping you calm down after the eventful day. He kept on stroking your hair, fingers tangling in the strands and smoothing them down. The repetitive movement easing you in, bringing a needed break from the stress and anxiety of the past weeks. As your eyelids felt heavier with every passing breath, a final question had to be asked:

“Can you stay with me?” the sudden timidness not fitting in with the intimacy of the situation.

And yet. Any voices of uncertainty got extinguished the moment you looked up at Neil and met his bright gaze:

“As if you think I’d leave. Don’t be silly,” the sheer audacity of your question causing his grin to widen, “I need to make up for all those lonely nights somehow” voice lowered to a whisper, gentle touch trailing up your arm, soothing and promising.

Good enough to succumb to and let go already. However, that need for water was stronger, causing you to smile apologetically before untangling from the complex web of limbs and standing up. His eyes followed your movement like a hawk, smirk forming on his face as he took in your dishevelment. As you stretched, the hem of the borrowed shirt rode up, exposing the glaring lack of underwear. The rare rush of confidence was strengthened by the look in his eyes. Suddenly being seen did not hurt that much.

“That you do” taking a sip of the water, you asked, “Can I keep the t-shirt?”

It was just a simple black shirt, good enough to sleep in, engulfing you in the additional dose of that ‘Neil smell’.

“Of course,” an appreciative nod, distracting you to glance at the abandoned phone, “You seem to like me shirtless… which I’m not complaining about,”

The comment was enough to make you turn back, however. Obviously. Taking in his satisfied grin, the urge to slap him was back. That, though, could turn your peaceful evening into something else. Something that perhaps was best left for the future.

“I just generally rather like you, Neil” the retort dropped with perfect disinterest.

No one messaged you, which was bound to be counted as a win. You got a far as making sure the phone was on mute, and you were ready to join him back in the bed when Neil’s question made you turn with widened eyes:

“Can you check my phone, please?” there was nothing suspicious in the way he asked.

As if it was nothing. But it was not exactly nothing. With trembling hands, you went through his notifications. Nothing remarkable or worth mentioning. It was when you faced Neil again after a minute that you noticed his taxing gaze, analysing your every move. He acknowledged your startled look with a serious smile:

“I can see that shocked face, and I’ve got one thing to say to your mean brain - I’ve nothing to hide from you” the emphasis placed on the right words “You can go through my texts if you want to test that” a passing glance at the device you still held in your hand.

Now that was too much. The idea itself triggering the reservoirs of worries. That you were too possessive. That the insecurities were getting ahead of you. As though burned, you put the phone down:

“Christ, no, sorry,” covering your face with your hands for a beat, “I don’t know why…”

Why what? Fuck knows. Looking for comfort, you glanced at him helplessly. Maybe with time, it would get easier. Maybe.

“It’s alright. Come here” Neil had no doubts as he extended his hand towards you in the simple invitation.

He need not say it twice. You switched off the remaining lights and took his hand, letting him pull you into a hug. The whispered reassurances and affirmations followed as you settled for the night. Carefully, you placed your hands over his heart and the scar on the side, mirroring night from another place and another time. As you closed off the day with a final breathless kiss, it was astonishingly effortless to realise that it was where you were meant to be. His lips glided over yours with tenderness reflected in the way he pulled you closer. Finally, you exchanged another confession and closed your eyes. Joined hands resting in the space between your heads like a beacon of hope. Someone to hold on to.

***

The initial sleepiness lasted for about three hours. After that, your brain switched back on, no longer satisfied by the presence of Neil’s steady breaths or the anchoring touch reminding you of the new circumstances. With every minute, it was harder to focus on falling back asleep. Instead, you were forced to go over the various what-ifs and worries centred around the battle. Thoughts of locks, guns, and bullets elevating your pulse and warming up your body in the familiar signs of an upcoming anxiety attack. Overwhelmed with the flood of ideas, you opened your eyes. No salvation in the darkness. Only the warmth of the embrace acting as a reminder to breathe. With a spark of fondness, you realised that Neil pulled you even closer throughout the night. His hands have slipped underneath the shirt. The touch comforting yet also warm enough to be bothering the heightened emotions. You had to get up and cool down. Only that was easier said than done. With his tight hold, it was difficult to untangle, and the first attempt got stopped with half-asleep Neil clutching you with stubbornness, refusing to let go. Despite your heart desperately clinging to the comforts of the position, you decided to take it slow. You raised your head and watched him for a short moment, involuntarily smiling at the peacefulness painted across his features. The relaxed forehead, long eyelashes falling on the cheeks, and strands of hair splayed on the pillow like a crown of gold. Beautiful. Leaning in, you placed a fleeting kiss on his temple, then another one on the cheek, lips brushing over the corner of his lips in a ghost of a touch. Message simple – sleep, it’s alright.

It worked, for he relaxed his hold enough for you to get up from the bed and trod over to the window. The coldness of the room waking up the senses, moonlight spilling over as you glanced at the horizon. Nothing but the ocean and the starry skies. No salvation to be found there. Unable to let go of the worries, you sighed heavily and pressed your forehead against the glass. There was hardly any point in trying to go back to sleep. That train has left the station. Your hands trembled lightly, betraying the anxious energy stored in every single cell of your body. Needing to get out somehow. Briefly, you considered putting on clothes and slipping out to let the cold air calm you down. But that could only help for a brief moment. You needed a better solution. A way to shut down the qualms. How was an entirely different question.

Your nervous internal ramblings got cut short with the unmistakable rustling coming from the bed behind, followed by:

“Why did you leave?” Neil’s husky voice enriched with the sleepy drawl causing a smile to spread on your face.

With the permanent warmth seeping through your chest with the reminder that it was finally your reality, you turned back to face him.

“I can’t sleep,” sheepish admission completed with a small shrug, “It’s fine though, I can-” as you sat down on the mattress, Neil silenced you with a hand taking yours and lacing the fingers.

“What’s wrong?” he seemed more awake now, the familiar focus back in his eyes, “And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I’m not buying that,” the disclaimer placed with a firmness that still startled you.

Supposedly it was time to get used to being seen like this. Right through, no bullshit allowed. Terrifying and endearing. Because for once you were understood. Accepted.

Taking an additional moment to collect the thoughts, you brushed the hair away from his forehead. Careful touch making Neil shut his eyes and lean into your palm as you traced the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

“I can’t stop thinking about the lock… All of the what-ifs and plans are starting to drive me insane,” you admitted quietly, not stopping the tender caress, “It’s like whenever I try to go back to sleep, the thoughts just keep rushing in, and there’s no end to them” the dejected note causing Neil to open his eyes and meet your tired gaze.

His brow furrowed, hold over your hand tightened as though he wanted to reassert his presence. A reminder that you did not have to deal with it alone anymore. In response, you squeezed his palm and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I know the feeling well,” a kiss on the top of your head, “Maybe we should make use of it,” the hopeful edge kindling curiosity.

“How?” somehow, it already felt a little bit better.

As though being able to share the troubles could make your heart less heavy. Because he was there and willing to fight the demons away with you. That was enough to assure you that he was the one. He had to be.

“Let’s go to the bridge and start planning. You won’t sleep and, frankly, knowing you’re feeling like this, I won’t either, so what have we got to lose?” the explanation simple in its directness.

For a moment, you wanted to argue, to tell him to go back to bed and let you deal with this one your own. Because it was selfish to drag him along at 3 am to brainstorm over the filter coffee and A0 format blueprints. Yet the moment your eyes met his, the protests died on your lips. Everything you saw in his gaze told you that there would be no bargaining over it. That he was bound to follow you into the bridge and start the planning right now if it meant you would be able to sleep and calm down. You could only show how that realisation felt through a kiss that strengthened every single feeling twice fold.

***

That is how you have found yourself slouched over the terrain maps and Sator’s compound blueprints with the old-school ticking away the early morning hours on the opposite wall. This early (or late?), the bridge was bathed in the glow of the dawn spreading throughout the eastern horizon. It was incredibly cold, the biting chill causing you both to huddle at the corner of the large table with pullovers zipped up and mugs clutched in your hands. The adorable pinkish tint on Neil’s cheeks and tips of his ears were almost good enough to suffer.

Quickly you established the main points needing covering: the area separating the drop-off zone from the epicentre and tunnel leading inwards, the ten minutes you would have for the whole job, and the potential fuck-ups. With your directions, Neil drew the simplified plan of the terrain on the blackboard, and you attempted to figure out the optimal time needed to cross the distance while inverted. That turned out to be a rather inspiring conversation…

“How fast can you run?” standing at the head of the table, Neil threw a glance at you in passing.

With a grin, you noticed that he managed to get a blue marker stain on his chin. The desire to get up and deal with that distracting you from answering the question. Long enough for him to glare at you offendedly. Riiight…

“Not as fast as you… with all those legs, but I’ll manage” you eyed his slender form with a glimmer in your eye, noting down the exact route to cover.

Tough, but manageable. You were definitely not going to back out now. Not a chance.

“All those legs?” Neil’s clueless tone made you look up with a wide smile.

Cute. One would think someone this gorgeous would be vain. Not this one, however. You stared at him, fascinated by the confusion visible in his face. There was only one way to show him. You got up and crossed the space in two strides, stopping half a meter away, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Legs for miles, sunshine,” one more taxing look directed at him, slowly slipping over every single inch of his body.

Ending the scrutiny on his face again, you closed the space and cupped his cheek. Taking in the widened pupils and parted lips.

“Blimey,” a longer exhale, timidity highlighted by the deepening blush and disbelief in his voice, “Is there a part of me you’re not crazy about?”

As if. Perhaps it was the mix of anxiety, sleep deprivation, and unbelievable luck that made you braver. You placed your hand around his neck to get proper leverage and make him bow down slightly.

“…nope,” the poker face easily achieved before you kissed him on the marker smudge, “Do with that what you will,” a wink as you made sure to press your body against his in a clear message.

And then you strolled back to your chair. As though nothing happened. After all, it was time for work… and a little bit of fun.

Your punishment for the provocation came not long after when Neil came back to the table to help you figure out the best way into the epicentre. Busy with the blueprints, you only noticed his presence once you felt a teasing touch run up your spine, followed by lips trailing kisses down the nape of your neck. However far the collar of your pullover allowed. Involuntarily you shuddered, the reaction instantaneous as you grasped the edge of the cold table to keep focused.

“Neil-” a half-whine exposing the frustration.

Mistake. He must have knelt on the floor behind your chair, for the next thing you felt was the warm breath causing goosebumps all along your neck and throat. He pressed another kiss to the spot right under your ear. The specially chosen one always resulted in thighs clenched tightly and warmth spreading down your veins.

“Don’t tell me you thought I’ll let that pass” the whisper confirmed your suspicions.

One glance at Neil told you he was rather proud of himself as he mirrored your wink from before with a satisfied smirk.

“Rude,” you rolled your eyes, huff added to the drama.

Perhaps mission planning could be interesting like that. Perhaps. As though following your line of thinking, Neil leaned in once again and pressed a kiss to your throat. His hands sneaked around your waist and between the thighs for a split second. Enough to make you groan.

“Is it now?” he chuckled and got up before you could utter a sound, “So… which entry do you propose, miss?” leaning over your head, tone strictly business.

Just like that. Bloody bastard. There was nothing else to do but sigh heavily and begin to plot revenge in the quiet of your mind. That could be rather pleasant.

You decided on an entry point, separate from the tunnel used by the splinter unit just in case. Whatever that case might be. Around five o’clock, when the whole of the room was bathed in the mellow sunlight and the few fucked up seagulls were desperately trying to fight over a fish on the line of your eyesight, you yawned for what felt like the hundredth time and glanced at the sofa longingly. It seemed like now, after over two hours spent planning and talking about nothing but the bloody lock (and the possibilities of your relationship), anxiety has started to die down, leaving nothing but the worst of energy slumps. Neil must have caught your worsening state, for, suddenly you felt a careful touch on your shoulder. He drew you into a half hug, lips pressed against your temple in the soft kiss. You relaxed in his hold instantaneously, the sense of peace finally palpable and within your reach.

“You can go lie down,” he murmured, gently steering you towards the settee, “We’ll go over the obstacles we need to prep for now, but I don’t need you at the table for that” with a small smile, Neil pushed you down to sit.

“Thanks,” you grinned at him, the expression carrying over the rest of what you could not say just yet.

It was too easy to prop your head on the armrest and listen to him ponder on the various ways your mission could be hindered. So easy that you did not even realise when sleep has won over everything else, and you have given in to dreams with Neil’s steady voice fading into the background.

***

When your consciousness has once again reached the surface, you have noticed two things at once. A presence of a duvet you have been covered with that was not there previously, and a blinding light shining right at your face. Slowly, you opened your eyes, squinting at the brightness, and took in the surroundings. The bridge. Early morning. The steady sound of the keyboard typing. Neil. An unauthorised smile welcomed itself onto your face as you stretched out the stiffness from the nap on the sofa. One look at the clock was enough to let you know how badly you have fucked it. 7:30. No more, no less. One question needing answering… why hasn’t he woken you?

You sat up, quietly folded the duvet, and glanced at Neil still slumped over the plans. He had his head propped on the hand, hair falling over his eyes, and fingers restlessly typing out the document. Next to him, there was an unfinished coffee and a half-eaten protein bar. With a flash of gratefulness, you noticed that apart from fetching the blanket for you, he also remembered to eat.

It was that affection and fondness that prompted you to sneak up on him and use up some of the many vengeance scenarios you have thought of. In a smooth move, you have covered the distance and threw your arms around his neck. A startled yelp he let out, only giving more conviction that this was the right maneuver.

“What-” the beginning of the question cut short when you kissed him on the neck.

Slowly savouring the taste of his skin, you placed your hands on his thighs, relishing in the feeling of the muscles tensing underneath the clothes. It was easy to become addicted to this kind of power. The rush of courage prodding you to graze your teeth over his skin. The answering groan and slight head tilt giving your more space for exploration, nothing but approval.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” giving him a breather, you asked the question.

There was no reason to acknowledge it in any way. He would understand you were sure of that. Before he could answer, you picked up the activity, trailing kisses down his neck, giving additional attention to the pulse points and spots that made him fidget in the chair.

“Could never,” the hoarse whisper complemented with his hands covering yours, “What are you doing?” the hint of uncertainty causing a wicked smirk to spread across your lips.

A teasing answer on the tip of your tongue when the unmistakable sound coming from the airlock shattered the moment.

“Well, well, well… good morning, lovebirds,” the familiar Cockney accent broke the silence with an impish edge tinting every syllable.

There was no point in fooling yourself that they have not caught what you have been doing. Still, with cheeks burning red, you took a definitive step back, away from Neil and faced the rest of the team with an awkward smile:

“Hi,” the word came out quiet, raspy voice bringing out even more embarrassment, “We’ve um…” you trailed off, gaze helplessly slipping over Wheeler and TP.

No help apart from a knowing grin on her face and an inquisitive look in his dark eyes. The pronoun you have used ringing out in the space. We. Correct, and yet strange. Because you knew that after a show like this, there would be no more pretending. Everything out and clear. But maybe that was better… Your increasingly more hectic thoughts got interrupted by the sound of the chair scraping the floor.

“Couldn’t sleep. So, we decided to start the planning. For the lock,” Neil finished your sentence and added an explanation on a long exhale.

Unable to deny yourself the pleasure, you glanced at him briefly. He took a step closer, throwing you a reassuring smile. His cheeks were still flushed after your earlier ministrations, hair ruffled and begging to be arranged. Maybe later.

“You’re one entity now?” the shameless staring got interrupted by another cheeky question by the squad leader.

Oh christ. Resisting the urge to facepalm, you fought hard to find an answer.

“No, but… I’m going in with Neil. To help and cover” the truth had to do.

After all, it was what Ives wanted from you. The final decision on the state of things. A way out of the impasse. A sleepless night seemed worth it. One look at the soldier told you the decision has surprised him. He turned to look at Neil, directing the next question at him:

“Alright… and you’re all prepared for that? No more drama?” the emphasis given to the last three words brought back all the traumatic meetings from mere days prior.

No more drama. At last, there was no reason to feel the fear rise at the mention of the war council. Maybe the worst was truly beyond you?

“Yes, we’ve talked it over” Neil confirmed your thoughts with resolution.

On its own accord, his hand brushed against yours, the gesture not escaping the attentive gaze fixed on both of you.

“Doubt that’s the only thing you did,” the comment whispered low enough to be caught by the three of you stood close.

Your face reddened as you understood the connotations. On the one hand, it was nothing to be ashamed of. On the other, the part of you that always hated being seen like that was close to lashing out. However, your boyfriend had your back.

“Ives,” Neil uttered the warning, shooting you a worried look.

That was enough this time, luckily. Without a shadow of remorse, Ives grinned and strolled over to sit at the head of the table. Nonchalance personified.

“Mind sharing what it is that you came up with?” he arched his eyebrow in an open invitation.

Alrighty. You glanced at Neil, a silent question on your lips instantly understood, and answered with a nod of the head in the direction of the whiteboard and your abandoned plans.

As TP and Wheeler took their seats around the table, you both took hold of the papers and arranged them to prepare the presentation. Then a short eye contact was enough to kick it off:

“We’ll go in” Neil uncapped the blue marker and drew two dots on the board.

“Inverted,” you added, gaze sweeping over the audience.

So far, comprehension has seemed to be maintained.

“Yes. We’ve figured out that 4 minutes might be enough to cover the distance from the drop-off zone” drawing the line indicating your route, he motioned for you to pick up the compound blueprint.

“And get into the hypocenter. Via this tunnel,” exchanging a small smile, you took hold of the paper and pointed at the alternate entrance.

“Different to the one you’ll be using in case something went wrong,” he explained, “Then I’ll pick the lock and open the gate” quiet confidence you have missed hearing tinting the sentence.

Maybe it could work out just right.

“While I make sure he’s safe and sound,” complementing his sentence, you took that one step closer to Neil.

Emboldened by the dynamic you have easily fallen into, you shot him a confident grin and placed your hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly being watched did not feel half that bad. As though he was following your logic, Neil winked at you and finished the presentation with a telling shrug:

“And we exit,” you enjoyed the way his eyes glimmered with conviction.

For once, it felt like it was not just you who wanted it to work. Perhaps the conversation made an impact on how he saw things. And now he was willing to fight for your future. Together. The sudden need to take his hand got interrupted with a neutral question coming from Wheeler:

“What if someone stops you?” the poker face masking the hints of concern you knew well.

“We can discuss that now” Neil grabbed the list he composed during your nap and opened his mouth to speak.

Not for long.

“Have you been rehearsing that?” Ives’s question made all of you snap back to him in an instant.

The witty smirk gracing his features was a cause for concern. Because you knew well what he meant. Feeling the wave of embarrassment wash out the bravado, you struggled for an answer:

“No… that’s just-” biting on your lip in search of words, you barely registered what happened.

“Chemistry” Neil smiled assuredly and took your hand in his without missing a beat.

As you faced him with wide eyes, he raised your palm to his lips and kissed the knuckles in a gentlemanly fashion.

That was certainly a memorable way of announcing your relationship. Probably better than a Facebook status. Then you did not have Neil befriended on that. Did he even have an account? For whatever reason, your tired brain decided to treat those types of issues as most important of all, fixating on bloody Facebook of all things.

“You alright?” the tightening hold on your hand combined with the worried undertone in the question made you drop the pointless thoughts in a second.

As you met Neil’s gaze, you mustered another smile and squeezed back his hand. The company did not matter he was everything you could see anyway.

“Yep, sorry. Just knackered,” you whispered the assertion, refusing to acknowledge the ridiculous questions.

However, judging by the scepticism in his face, you knew it was not getting brushed off eternally. The sound of a throat being cleared pointedly made you both turn back to the audience with apologetic smiles.

“Hate to interrupt your little conversation, but I think we should use your head-start and try to complete the plans” Ives stood up from the chair and strolled over to the blackboard.

Marker in hand. Things still needed looking into if you were to make this mission successful on all fronts. Sleep and tiredness would have to wait.

“Sure thing” you passed the soldier a weary nod and sat down on your chair with a quiet groan.

Sofas were not the ideal places to nap. Note to the future self. Before you could do as much as glance at the documents again, a passing remark made you look up with eyebrows knitted:

“Congrats, by the way,” Ives threw the words with a telling wink directed at you and Neil.

Does the torture ever end?

“… Thanks?” the frustration seeping through your tone as you added, “It’s not like we’re getting married or anything, though”

“Yet,” the husky voice on your right chimed in with just the right amount of cheekiness.

Naturally. You glared at Neil sharply, any intent or purpose forgotten once he met your gaze with that familiar affectionate look in his eyes. Might as well…

The next few hours were spent on making sure every part of the plan and the tactics made sense and fit with the rest. It meant more filter coffee (fifth cup? More likely than you think) and more marker smudges all over your hands and arms. On the chin, too, if you ever got too lost in staring at the blonde bastard to your right. Which did happen. Often.

The cause of your death was the assigned job of drawing out the tactics on the large block of paper spread across the table. It was well past noon when you had finished half of it, and the pounding headache only seemed to increase with each second spent on staring at the red and blue lines and dots covering the piece. Stuck with the especially tricky part of indicating your two special task units on the plan, you let the frustration boil over with one simple curse, breaking through the dam:

“...fuck me-” the rest of the sentence, saturated with even more annoyance, was never meant to be heard.

“I am,” the two words invited themselves into your intended message.

Your eyes widened as the culprit confidently approached your workstation and gave you a little pat on the head. What the fuck? From every available expletive, you knew in a few different languages nothing seemed to come to mind in the outrageous moment.

“Neil, I swear-” that had to do as you made sure to show him the extent of fury through the look in your eyes.

You did not even dare glance at the others, knowing that this was quite the scene. Hilarious.

“What? Everyone knows anyways” the feigned innocence in how he batted his eyelashes at you only increasing the frustration.

He did have a point they knew. Especially after something like this. Still.

“That’s not an excuse,” the steel-cold voice doing nothing against the playful sparks in the blue eyes.

It was in the way Neil pushed himself closer to you that you knew what was coming. The ultimate finale to your early morning banter. Showdown. He caught the bottom lip between the teeth and glanced up at you through the dark eyelashes. Nothing but allure personified.

“Am I gonna be punished for the disobedience?” he overenounciated the words with a challenging tilt to the tone.

All of the annoyance was gone, the prospects opening up with his question. Mirroring him, you nibbled on the lower lip, letting the permanent desire back into your gaze. It was easy when faced with someone like Neil.

“... perhaps,” the word whispered with the promising wink.

And a pat on the blonde head, for good measure.

You need not turn to look at the company to know who facepalmed at that.

#tenet #tenet fanfic #neil tenet #neil tenet fanfic #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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