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charturnus · 3 years ago

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Sign on the dotted line

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

a/n: not only is this my first time writing after a 6-month hiatus, this is also my first time writing Wanda, so I'm kinda sweating it ngl. I have high hopes for this series though, and I can't wait to develop this story further.

Warnings: n/a

Summary: Chapter I; Did you get enough of love, my little dove? AU

Wanda needs a pretty girl on her arm for every event she attends, and you are in desperate need of care and attention.

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The clock strikes five, just as you unlock the door to your office. You blink dazedly in the glaring overhead lights and begin your morning ritual of settling into business as usual. First hanging up your coat, then taking out the many folders you had lugged home the day before. As the kettle in the corner slowly heats up the water intended for your cup of tea, you turn on your computer. The start-up is slow this morning, and you tap your nails impatiently on the desk.

So much has to be done today, but it’s no different from any other day, really. Three years ago when you had just secured this job, you found yourself overwhelmed as you never had been before. Every day was a struggle, a fight to survive in this cut-throat business. There was always something that had to be done, someone who expected answers from you. There was a time when you deluded yourself into thinking it would get easier.

I just have to hang on until next week…

Once this deal is settled, everything will calm down…

It never got easier. You lived day to day, seemingly constantly hanging on by a thread. But you had managed it so far, hadn’t you?

The kettle chirrups, signalling that the water has finally come to a boil. Your computer too is finally showing signs of life, so you open up your inbox, awaiting the inevitable influx of emails that will have arrived since you last checked at midnight.

The first half an hour of your morning is spent answering emails as you sip a cup of strong matcha tea. As expected, two dozen emails have found their way to you once more. All from colleagues and clients, asking for help, for direction, for approval.

You’re so caught up in a particular email about what’s her name from R&D who supposedly was leaking prototypes to Weaver Enterprises, that you don’t notice the door of your office opening.

‘’Good morning’’

When Pepper speaks quite suddenly (and rather loudly for this time of day) you give a start.

‘’Christ Pepper’’ you mutter angrily. ‘’Don’t sneak up on me like that, you’re going to give me a heart attack someday.’’

She doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest by your response, she merely smiles at you placidly. ‘’I didn’t expect you to be here so early after yesterday's crisis meeting running so late.’’

This is Pepper’s way of making small talk, you’ve come to learn. It seems she’s incapable of speaking of anything that doesn’t have to do with work, and she takes great satisfaction in going above and beyond with anything she does. You think she’s a workaholic and that she should make good use of the therapy coupon you gave her for last year’s office-wide secret Santa. She thinks she is the single most productive member of society and appears to believe herself capable of fighting God, fuelled by nothing but 2 espresso shots and early morning road rage.

On the whole, you’ve agreed to disagree on this particular issue.

‘’I’m here at five every morning, Pepper. And I know you know that because you make a point of getting here five minutes earlier than me, every day.’’

That seems to be precisely enough small-talk for this morning because after rolling her eyes at your remark she heads straight to business.

‘’Well, that certainly is fortunate because the boss would like to see you immediately, and you know how she hates to be kept waiting.’’

For a few seconds you do nothing but stare at Pepper, and then, the meaning of her words hits you. Wanda Maximoff has asked to see you. White-hot panic bubbles up from your stomach, instantly you feel your hands beginning to sweat.

It’s not unusual for you to spend time with your boss, but it’s always in the company of other people. Her presence is a welcome addition to the many mind-numbing meetings that you have to sit through. Your affections for her have blossomed into some sort of office infatuation. You tell yourself that this is merely a distraction from the rigour of every day life at the office, it’s not all that serious.

Yet, you find your head snapping towards your open office door whenever you hear the clicking of heels down the hallway. You take the long way to the printer, past the main meeting room, in hopes of catching a glimpse of her.

The thought of her asking for you and sending Pepper to get you… It gives you an uneasy feeling. Maybe she has noticed that your work hasn’t been quite up to your usual standard in these last few weeks. You’ve been struggling under the growing weight of your responsibilities.. Maybe she has called you up to chastise you, or worse, fire you.

‘’Save the catastrophizing for another day, will you, it’s too early for this.’’ Pepper says, as she takes in the frenzied look of panic on your face. ‘’I’m to bring you to her, so hurry up, I’d like to get this sorted before the office fills up.’’

‘’Right.’’ You say dazedly, turning off the computer and grabbing in the drawers of your desk for your keys. When the two of you are making your way down the hall moments later, you run your hands nervously through your hair.

‘’So, do you know what this is about at all?’’

Pepper allows you to step into the elevator first, before punching in the code on the keypad that will take the pair of you up to Ms Maximoff’s private office.

‘’I know, but I can’t say anything yet.’’ She says. ‘’Speaking of-’’ She flicks through some papers inside the folder she is holding and pulls out a neat set of documents. Even though it’s upside down, you can still make out the words ‘’Non-disclosure agreement’’ in bold letters at the very top of the document.

At this, your eyebrows shoot up. ‘’You want me to sign an NDA?’’

She presses the papers into your hands and unclips the pen from the front of her blouse. ‘’Yes, now please hurry up and read it through. I’d like to have this signed as soon as possible.’’

You’ve seen this document before. The standard template used for NDA’s within the company, and you know where to find the information that isn’t simply reused for every NDA. From this, you gather some basic facts. Whatever this is, it clearly has to do with the PR side of the company, which strikes as you odd since you work resolutely behind the scenes. What’s more, whatever the subject matter of your coming conversation will be, it has something to do with Wanda Maximoff’s private life.

The cogs in your head are turning at rapid speed trying to make sense of it all. But really, there is no way to know unless you sign and hear what Ms Maximoff has to tell you. So, you clumsily scrawl your signature in three different places and hand the little packet back to Pepper.

Right on cue, the elevator doors slide open, and you find yourself in a short corridor with a single large door at the end of it. You have only been here twice, once when you were hired and once when you were promoted to your current position. You felt sick with nerves then, and you feel sick right now. You lift a hand to smooth your hair, and you stare self-consciously at your reflection in the many pictures lining the walls.

The dark circles underneath your eyes seem more pronounced now than they were this morning. You wish you would have spent a little more time on your appearance, instead of slapping on some foundation and mascara in your car and calling it a day.

Pepper knocks twice and doesn’t wait for permission to enter, instead, she pushes open the door after the second knock and holds it open for you. You try to compose yourself, standing up straight and pushing your shoulders back.

Wanda Maximoff is sitting at her desk, a glass of water in one hand, the morning paper in the other. She looks perfectly polished and put together in her burgundy suit. She really is very beautiful, you think, before remembering that she’s probably about to fire you, which really puts a damper on those sorts of thoughts.

‘’Good morning, Ms Maximoff.’’ You say politely, as Pepper brushes past you to deposit the NDA on the desk.

‘’Good morning to you too’’ She says with a bright smile. ‘’I’m so glad you were able to meet me here so soon.’’

Before you can so much as think of a reply, Pepper cuts in. ‘’She already signed the NDA, Wanda.’’ She says, perching on top of the desk. ‘’I have a meeting at six-thirty, so I’d appreciate it if we could get to business.’’

Ms Maximoff doesn’t seem perturbed by this, and merely lays down her paper to flit through the document, presumably looking for your signature. Apparently, she finds no fault in it, as she drops it in front of her and leans back in her chair. You swallow thickly as you watch her take in your appearance.

‘’I have a proposition for you.’’ She says, a slight smile playing across her lips as she hands you yet another stack of papers. You take it with shaking hands, this packet is rather thicker and heavier than the NDA. She doesn’t appear to be firing you at any rate, which is some consolidation at least.

‘’You see-’’ Ms. Maximoff says. ‘’I have a problem that needs solving, and we think you’re the right person for the job.’’

You flit through the many papers in front of you, eyes darting this way and that. This job clearly has something to do with the PR side of things, you decide. Words like ‘’public image’’ and ‘’likeable persona’’ jump out at you.

‘’Pepper has made it clear to me that I need an image boost.’’ She says, turning to Pepper and giving her an exasperated look.

‘’You do!’’ Pepper cuts in. ‘’The press has been horrid lately. You need to appear more down to earth, we want you to be likeable and approachable. It would do wonders for business Wands’’

At that, Ms Maximoff snorts, but Pepper resolutely ignores her, addressing you instead. ‘’Wanda needs to be put in a good light, show the world her nice side, you know?’’

You nod, albeit confusedly, as you still don’t quite understand what this has to do with you. Your area of expertise has absolutely nothing to do with public relations.

‘’If I may ask, what exactly would you like me to do to assist you with this particular issue?’’ You ask, addressing Ms Maximoff directly.

She smiles at you, a look of amusement evident on her face. ‘’Pepper has decided that the best way for me to achieve this is to stage a relationship.’’

You feel the muscles in your jaw go slack, but before you have the time to process the implications of this statement, Pepper has already spoken up.

‘’Think about it! We need you to present your softer side, to show that you can be kind and caring and let’s be honest Wands, you haven’t given me a lot to work with and-’’

‘’I’m sorry.’’ You say, interrupting her minor lecture. ‘’You want to stage a romantic relationship?’’

She frowns at your interruption but has the good grace to answer you in spite of it, ‘’Yes!’’ she says firmly. ‘’We have explored every other possible avenue, if this doesn’t work then we can forget about ever obtaining favourable press.’’

‘’Alright…’’ You say slowly, wondering whether you’re here to help them scout a person for the job. ‘’So, who do you have in mind?’’

That makes Ms Maximoff laugh. A real hearty laugh, one you haven’t heard from her in a very long time. The muscles of your stomach contract pleasantly, and you can’t help but smile yourself.

‘’Oh sweetheart, that’s adorable.’’ She says. ‘’You, of course.’’

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her incredulously, your eyes wide and your jaw slack. You’re half expecting a camera crew to jump out at you, proclaiming loudly that you have been pranked. When no such thing happens, however, you turn to Pepper.

‘’Me?!’’ You manage to croak out.

‘’Yes, you.’’ She says with an air of annoyance. ‘’Look at the damn contract.’’

Quickly, you turn to the stack of papers in your hands. Fervently thumbing through the papers until you find what you are looking for.

This agreement establishes a fabricated romantic relationship between the following parties:

Wanda Maximoff (Hereby referred to as Party 1)

and

Y/N (Hereby referred to as Party 2)

The parties are herein referred to as a ‘’Couple’’ and are set forth for a period of 365 days. The parties hereby agree to the following provisions as conditions of the ‘’Relationship’’:

This is then followed by a long list of conditions. With your heart pounding a manic beat in your chest, you scan through the list.

Both parties must refrain from engaging in any intimate relationship with outside persons until the signified time of the contract has ended;

Party 2 is to settle into the home of Party 1 for the whole duration of the contract;

Neither party may discuss the contents of the contract with any unapproved persons;

Both parties must agree to engage in public displays of affection (see subsection 5) with the intended purpose of this being documented;

Party 2 will cease all activity within Maximoff enterprises for the duration of the contract;

On and on the list goes, the further down you get, the redder your face turns. Both Pepper and Ms Maximoff have gone quiet. Sensing that it might be best to allow you to process this in your own time. It takes you 15 minutes to read through every word within the contract, and an additional 10 minutes for you to wrap your head around what exactly is being asked of you.

Your boss wants you to pretend to be her girlfriend.

This is too good to be true, surely. Live with Wanda Maximoff? Hold her hand on the street, go out for dinner with her, visit lavish parties as her date? This isn’t real. This cannot be real. You want to pinch yourself. You want to burst out into hysterical laughter, or a fit of uncontrollable sobs.

Even after all this silence, you seem to struggle to use your voice.

‘’Ms Maximoff, you-’’ your voice sticks in your throat, and you have to cough to clear it. ‘’Let me be clear, you want me to pretend to be your partner?’’

‘’I do.’’

‘’I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand why.’’

Pepper shifts restlessly on the edge of the desk. ‘’I’ll just go grab a coffee.’’ She says with a pointed look at Ms Maximoff.

Once the oak doors have shut firmly behind Pepper, the other woman speaks up.

‘’Ms Maximoff-’’ You begin, but Wanda cuts in.

‘’You can call me Wanda.’’

You pull up short, ‘’I- Thank you, Wanda.’’ You say somewhat awkwardly.

‘’I’d like to make this less strange for you.’’ She says warmly. You get the sense that she’s attempting to soothe your intense anxiety and you give her a small smile.

‘’I don’t think anything could make this less strange.’’

‘’That’s fair.’’

You watch as she plays absent-mindedly with the rings on her left hand, turning them slowly, caressing the golden jewellery with soft fingers. Unbidden, you wonder what those fingers would feel like on your skin, cool against the heat of your cheek. You wonder how those fingers would fit in between your own.

’Why exactly do you want me for this job?’’ You ask, quite suddenly. ‘’You could have anyone. Hell, you wouldn’t even have to pretend, I’m sure you could find someone you could genuinely love.’’

She shrugs. ‘’I have no interest in any of that.’’ The hand that was previously occupied with her jewellery now moves to a drawer in her desk and pulls out a folder with your picture attached to it.

‘’Did you know I receive reports on my most essential staff members on a monthly basis?’’ She asks, casually flipping through the papers.

You feel your mouth go dry. ‘’I am aware.’’

‘’You’re not well, are you?’’ She says simply.

You falter under the gaze of her bright green eyes. What exactly is she getting at here? Sure, you haven’t felt well rested in what feels like 20 years, and you haven’t had a home-cooked meal in 5 months. Maybe you cry more than you ever have before, but that’s all a part of having a high stakes job, isn’t it?

‘’I’m fine.’’ You lie. ‘’And I apologize, but I don’t see how my wellbeing affects this situation.’’

Wanda raises her eyebrows at you. ‘’I think we can help each other.’’ she says. ‘’I need you to assist me in attaining some more favourable press, and you need a break.’’

‘’A break?’’ You repeat rather dumbly.

Wanda flicks through the papers again, apparently looking for something. When she finds it, she traces the lines with her finger. ‘’You’ve been spotted crying in your car during lunch breaks.’’ She reads aloud. ‘’You see a therapist for stress-related issues, yet you put in more hours than Pepper does every week. Do you see what I’m getting at here?’’

You shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. She’s not wrong, but hearing it like this feels invasive almost. You don’t want to know who gave her this information. You close your eyes tight, letting your head hang.

You can hear Wanda getting up, but you don’t dare to move or look up, not until you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. Heat blooms from her palms, spreading down your back, warming you. You want to stay there, want her to wrap her arms around you and allow you to stay there for eternity. Instead, you turn around to face her, mourning the loss of her touch as she lets her hands fall to her side.

‘’You need a break. This contract will give you an out for a whole year, you can rest and recuperate and if you want to return after this all then the position will be yours.’’ She gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. ‘’You take on so much responsibility and carry so much weight. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone take that over from you?’’

‘’Why would you want to do that?’’ You mumble.

‘’Let’s just say that you have caught my attention, little dove. I’d like to help you if I can.’’

You bite your lip, your heart fluttering at the pet name.

Your mind is screaming at you to sign that contract right this instant, but you still hesitate. The most rational part of you has you in a chokehold. Forcing you to get all your ducks in a row before you make a massive mistake.

‘’Why do you want me specifically, though? You didn’t answer my question fully.’’

She laughs. ‘’You are thorough, aren’t you?’’

You smile shyly and steal a glance up at her face, as she scrunches her nose at you affectionately.

‘’I like you. You’re kind and funny and honestly the only person I can think of who I could actually spend a whole year with without losing my mind.’’

At this, you blush in earnest. Sure, you have your own private affections for your boss but you never dreamed she ever spared you much thought at all. You spend plenty of time with her, but it’s always strictly business, so the thought that she holds you in such high esteem makes your stomach do a flip.

‘’Thank you,’’ You mutter quietly. ‘’That’s very kind of you to say.’’

She gives you a wink and a smile which makes you rather weak in the knees. Still, you try to steel yourself, because this isn’t over yet.

‘’I do have some concerns regarding the contract that I’d like to go over with you.’’

Wanda raises an eyebrow, but settles herself back behind her desk, pulling the contract towards her and motioning for you to take a seat as well.

‘’Let’s see then.’’

***

‘’Okay, so that’s a firm no, then?’’ Wanda chuckles as she strikes out the umpteenth condition you have vetoed.

‘’Listen, if I’m going to be effectively jobless for a whole year with nothing to do, I want to make myself useful in some way.’’

Wanda gives you an amused look over the papers as she scribbles down her notes in the margin.

‘’I’m a perfectly decent cook, I won’t poison you, I swear.’’

‘’What a shame’’ says Pepper, who has just made her reappearance with a tray of coffee cups in hand. ‘’Here-’’ she says, handing you a white styrofoam cup. I got you a chai latte, that’s the only thing I know you drink since you’re one of those anti-coffee freaks. You thank her with a laugh, and you pry the lid off, so as to allow the drink to cool faster.

As Pepper deposits Wanda’s drink on the desk, she looks over her shoulder at the many lines that are crossed out, she heaves a heavy sigh. ‘’Trust you to give me a pile of paperwork before the day has properly started.’’

‘’Hey!’’ You say reproachfully. ‘’If I’m going to sign my life away for a year, I’d like to secure some good terms.’’

‘’Smart girl.’’ Says Wanda with a chuckle.

You turn away, your hair hiding your glowing smile as you beam at her praise.

‘’Is there anything else you’d like to add to this migraine of an admin task, or will I be spared?’’

‘’Ummm…’’ You hesitate. You have been trying to bring this up for the past twenty minutes, but you didn’t know how to broach the subject delicately. ‘’About the intimacy clause…’’ You begin.

‘’You don’t have to fuck her.’’ Pepper says casually, watching with amusement as your cheeks instantly grow bright red.

‘’Pepper!’’ Wanda hisses. ‘’Behave yourself, will you?’’

With a guilty look, she holds up both of her hands. ‘’I apologize, I plead not guilty by way of sleep deprivation.’’

Wands merely shakes her head and turns in your direction, putting on a gentle smile.

‘’It’s just the basics,’’ She says. ‘’Hand holding, hugging, cuddling and the occasional kiss. That’s all.’’

A flush creeps up your neck at the mere thought of kissing Wanda. ‘’O-okay…’’ you stutter. ‘’And it will be for the camera’s? I mean- when we’re out in public?’’

She nods. ‘’We don’t have to be over the top, but we should act as any couple would in public.’’

‘’And we’ll stage some of the more intimate moments, so don’t worry about that.’’ Pepper chimes in.

‘’Stage it?’’

‘’We’ll tip off some of some paparazzi and make sure you’re caught kissing, things like that.’’

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. ‘’Alright, thank you for clearing that up.’’

This is real, you conclude. You try very hard to not get ahead of yourself, but you can’t let go of the image in your head of yourself and Wanda intertwined in an embrace. You deserve something nice, don’t you? And it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, Wanda has specifically asked you to do this for her.

Screw it, what do you have to lose?

Tentatively, you reach out for the pen Pepper had given you earlier.

‘’So, do I just sign on the dotted line?’’

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Next chapter

#c: wanda maximoff #little dove AU #wanda maximoff x reader #ceo!wanda #char writes

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noteguk · 4 years ago

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pretty in pink | kth | m

— summary; in which you try to rekindle your sex life with a devilish plan and a very sexy, very pink set of langerie.

— contents and warnings; smut, a bit of fluff, marriage au, taehyung x reader, mischievous use of lingerie, dirty talk, dom!tae x sub!reader, pretty heavy dom/sub themes, constant use of the word “sir”, begging, Tae has a big dick, cock worship, blowjob, deepthroat, cum eating, fingering, hair pulling, a bit of praise, degradation (use of slut/cockslut), but also use of pet names (honey, love, baby, doll…), mentions of cum play, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm control/denial, overstimulation, impreg kink if you squint, being nasty in the name of love

— words; 6,4k

— author’s note; homies… this is basically one long smut scene. There are like 3 paragraphs of context. Brain empty no excuse.

Requested by anon! Requests are currently closed.

By the time that Taehyung got home, you had pretty much forgotten you had a plan in the first place.

He removed his shoes after closing the door behind him, his coat hanging over his forearm and an expression of exhaustion plastered all over his face. “Hi, honey,” he called, only slightly aware of your silhouette coming out of the kitchen and into the living room. “How was your day?”

Now, you see, your day had two main parts. The first (the usual one), was the part that started as soon as your husband left home for work, and you made your unceremonious walk towards the kitchen table, where you proceeded to work yourself. A few years back, you had managed to score an amazing job in the tech industry which allowed you to work mostly from home, and get a great salary while you’re at it — one downside, though, was that things started to get a bit lonely as your husband’s hours increased.

You knew that Taehyung wasn’t doing it on purpose: he was working hard for a promotion, one that could considerably improve your living situation, and you wouldn’t shoot his plans down like that. But it was a bit disheartening to see him leaving so early and getting home so late, sometimes only after you had already gone to bed. And, besides the emotional void growing inside of you, there was also the sexual one you needed to take care of.

Which leads you to the second part of your day. The scheming one.

You and Taehyung used to have an extremely active sex life, practically fucking like rabbits throughout your dating, engagement, and marriage phases. But now things had started to cool down — really, no one’s fault: Taehyung was too tired most days and you felt too moody — and you had started to grow a bit desperate. It wasn’t as if the two of you never had sex anymore, it was just mostly a very vanilla, very boring, once-every-weekend-maybe kind of thing.

All that being said, it’s understandable why you had started to construct a plan to rekindle that old, dying-out flame of yours. You didn’t want to do anything crazy — regardless of how interesting the idea of handcuffing your husband was, you didn’t think the best approach would be to scare him away from the get-go — so you eventually settled for a few things he particularly liked from back in the dating days.

(You felt so old thinking that.)

Number one: baby pink lingerie, the lacy kind. You didn’t know what kind of intense reaction it unleashed in your husband’s primal brain, but you knew that those were his favorites, and that Taehyung never stopped until he could take them off you. For that special occasion, you had even gone out and bought yourself a new set, matched with some semi-transparent thigh high socks that you also knew he loved. Cover all that up with a loose satin robe (the same color, of course), and you were ready to go.

Number two: a healthy amount of roleplay, matched with absolute submission from your part. Now, that’s where the money was: even if, by some curse placed on him by working countless hours in a corporate, hyper-capitalist job, Taehyung didn’t react to your very sexy, very skimpy set of new lingerie, you knew that would get a reaction out of him. It was exactly the dynamic the two of you liked the most, and you still remembered exactly how to push his buttons.

It was a perfect plan.

Only, you forgot about it.

“It was fine, finally finished coding that page after a bazillion years,” you responded, placing your mug on the coffee table before throwing yourself on the couch. The signs of old age were approaching: your back hurt so much that you could only think about sleeping for the next ten hours. “And yours?”

Taehyung hadn’t really looked at you yet, instead fighting to hang his coat next to the door. “It was good, actually. My boss told me he has some good news to tell me tomorrow.”

Your eyes lit up. “You’re getting that promotion?”

He sighed. “Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t wanna get any expectations, you know my boss. Maybe he’ll just give me a new stapl— What the hell do you have on?”

You paused, looking down at yourself. Oh. Yeah. You had forgotten about that. Or, rather, you forgot about the second part of your plan — because your very pink, very exposed underwear was staring you right in the face.

Still, you managed to keep yourself composed. “It’s new, do you like it?” You smiled, pulling your satin robe to the side. It exposed your breasts, made Taehyung clench his jaw at the sight. You needed to snap into submissive mode soon enough if you wanted that to work, but you also needed a few seconds to center yourself. “Baby?”

You watched as your husband blinked his way back into reality, taking a hesitant step towards you. You wanted to laugh: Taehyung was looking at you like there was a tiger in his living room, and he was trying to find out the best possible approach to deal with it.

And that was the perfect time to strike.

You pouted, hand slithering down to the level of your waist so you could untie the loose knot of the robe. “You don’t like it, sir?” The innocent inflection of your voice made his eyes snap up at yours, something dark starting to swim on the bottom of his irises. He was catching the drift. “I bought it just for you.” The robe was pushed to the side, presenting him with the glorious view of your panties; those socks that made him want to bury his face between your thighs. Taehyung took another step in your direction. “If you want, I can change into something else.”

Just like magic, Taehyung’s expression of exhaustion had been casted away, replaced by one of sheer, unshakable lust. Your breath almost got stuck in your throat as he placed his hands inside the pockets of his pants and took a few silent steps towards the couch. “Don’t change it,” he spoke up. His voice was deep and velvety, shot straight down to your core. “You look beautiful, love.”

You smiled as he sat down next to you. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course.” Taehyung’s large hand cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his warm touch. His calm disposition was a threatening thing, it got you on edge as his gaze trailed down to your lips; your breasts; your thighs. He hummed. “Want my doll to look pretty for me.”

“Yes, sir,” you said promptly. His eyes were back on yours in no time, thumb caressing your bottom lip. “Can you kiss me, sir?”

His hand brushed down your face, moving onto your neck. Taehyung was thinking of what to do to you, and you were kind enough to wait. “Does my baby want a kiss?” He asked and you nodded. “Very well. Sit on my lap, love.”

You could barely contain your excitement as you followed his order, one leg moving over his thighs so you could straddle him. Taehyung sighed in content as you sat on his erection, which only made the arousal between your legs grow.

“My girl is beautiful, isn’t she?” He mumbled to himself, hands swiftly pulling your robe down your shoulders. A cold breeze embraced your body as the discarded piece of clothing fell somewhere on the floor. “But so, so quick to misbehave.”

Your heartbeat quickened. “I didn’t misbehave, sir.”

“You did, love,” Taehyung spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a child. His movements were tender when he pushed your hair away from your face, but you knew there was wickedness hiding in those still waters. “You are trying to provoke me.”

“I’m not,” you lied.

“You are.” His hands placed themselves on your waist, pulling your body closer to his. They were a bit firmer than before, spreading goosebumps through your skin as they slithered down your lower back, palming your ass cheeks. “You put this on because you wanted me to fuck you, baby. Don’t lie to me now.”

Your hand started playing with his tie, eyes following the movement of your fingers so you could avoid his penetrative gaze. “Sorry, sir.”

His finger found the underside of your chin, pushing it up. You couldn’t escape those eyes, he wouldn’t allow you to. “Why are you apologizing?” He asked calmly. His other hand was still firm on your ass, squeezing the flesh. “I’m not mad. I just find it funny.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Funny?” You echoed.

“Yes, doll,” Taehyung said. “Funny the lengths you go to just because you want my cock.”

Heat exploded on your cheeks at his dirty words, your own speech getting stuck in your throat. You were in trouble, and it was exactly what you had been looking for.

“Hm? Not gonna say anything?” He egged you on, leaning his head to the side. You wanted to touch him, to kiss him, but you knew that things would follow his own pace. “My baby’s so horny for cock she’s not gonna even answer me?”

His words were suffocating you, earning a timid roll of your hips against his hard member. Your underwear was absolutely soaked and you could barely think straight. “I want you, sir,” was what you managed to get out.

“I know,” Taehyung said, his tone so nonchalant, so passive. His knuckles brushed tenderly against your cheek, a sly smirk curling up on his lips. “My pretty little slut just wants to get fucked so bad, doesn’t she?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He hummed, the corners of his lips moving down in disapproval. “Yes…?”

“Yes, sir,” you were quick to correct yourself, hands slithering up his shoulders and behind his neck. It was electrifying how Taehyung managed to get you so worked up so quickly, his unbothered stare burning holes on your skin. You felt so small like that, and you knew he was getting high on the power play. Some things never change. “Sorry, sir.”

“Mhm.” Taehyung didn’t grant you forgiveness so fast, instead leaning back on the couch and analyzing your demeanor. “I don’t know if you deserve my cock, though.”

You blinked, not hesitating for a second. “I do deserve it, sir.”

He scoffed, both of his hands back on your waist. His palms were heavy and warm against your skin, and you could not hold back the thought of having his fingers moving in and out of you. No matter how many times Taehyung touched you, his hands were just so big that he got you seeing stars in no time, filling you up and reaching deep inside you in ways that your own fingers never could. “Show me, then.” His firm voice broke your reveries, digits pressing down on your naked flesh. “You can kiss me now.”

Obedient, you leaned in and trapped his mouth in yours. It was a different world when Taehyung was in that headspace — often, he would kiss you so eagerly, so hungry for more, but, now, his mouth was barely following yours; a disinterested hum melting past his throat, silently daring you to try harder, to show him that you were worth his time. You dug your fingers in his soft hair and placed your tongue inside his mouth, trying to be the best you could be for him and, yet, it seemed as if he was deadset on giving you the bare minimum reaction.

At the same time, you still felt the effects of that kiss, your body heating up as you moaned against his mouth. Taehyung’s hands had traveled downwards and were now tugging at your panties, pulling them up and burying them between your asschecks. It made your back arch; there was a slight pressure on your clit that got you grinding down on his cock. He sighed at that, sucking on your tongue as one of his hands slithered beneath your panties, harshly groping your ass.

You swore he was just about to get into it when he decided to pull away. Slightly breathless and completely overwhelmed, you could only watch as Taehyung tilted his head to the side and, just as nonchalant as before, asked, “What do we say, doll?”

Lucky you, you knew the answer to that question. “Thank you, sir.”

“Very well.” He caressed your cheek once more, eyes trapped on the swell of your lips. Taehyung’s mind was flickering through the details of you — your breasts, your thighs, the perfect weight of your center against his — as he slowly figured out what he wanted to do to you. At last, he made up his mind. “On your knees.”

To move away from his embrace seemed to be a medieval sort of torture, but you did as he told you. You were on your knees in no time, the harsh wooden floor hurting your flesh when you looked up at him, expectant.

Taehyung leaned forward, trapping your chin between his fingers. “So pretty, aren’t you, doll?” He asked, voice velvety and slow. “Wanna be good for me?”

You nodded, eager to please him.

With a deep exhale, he moved back, spreading his arms over the couch’s back. “Good. Take my cock out,” he commanded. You stared up at him for a second too long, waiting to see if that was a test. It was a bit suspicious, after all: he used to tease you for far longer than that before even allowing you to touch him. And, because Taehyung knew you very well, he caught your trail of thought quickly enough. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Go on.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, just to be sure, and took your hands to his pants. Taehyung had chosen one of his most beautiful suits to work that day, and the dark grey shade did not conceal his erection in the slightest.

The smallest of things got you waiting for more: the sound of his pants being pulled down, apparently so loud in that silent living room; the gradual rise and fall of his chest; the wet mark on his underwear and the straining of his hard, leaking cock against the fabric. It was a good kind of anticipation, for you loved when Taehyung got you on the edge like that, unsure of what would follow, of how he would treat you.

Truth was: you loved being good for him, loved treating him as well as you could. Above all, you loved when he praised you for it, all warm touches and kind regards. But also, you adored when he made you work for those praises, glancing down at you like you were bothering him, like you couldn’t do anything right, not even pleasure him.

His cock was out soon after, heavy in your hands. Taehyung managed to control his demeanor rather well, but you could see that he was extremely turned on: tip reddened and covered in his precum, his length fully hard and throbbing as you gave him a small, tentative pump.

“Spit on it,” he said. “Come on, you know better than to touch me dry.”

You nodded, doing as he told you. A big glob of saliva dripped down onto his member, which you used to help with your movements. Saliva wasn’t lube, that’s true, but it did manage to calm down his attitude for a bit.

Being married meant that you had grown extremely used to each other’s bodies and, just like Taehyung knew your weak spots like the back of his hand, you knew his. Soon enough, you had your tongue trailing the underside of his cock, placing a special pressure on his frenulum. Taehyung inhaled sharply, hands digging to the sofa cushions as you lethargically continued your actions, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip and tasting his precum.

“In your mouth,” he ordered, “now.”

Eager to please him, your lips wrapped around his crown and you gradually began sinking down on him. Taehyung was thick, always gave you a hard time as you slowly grew used to his size inside your mouth; a strangled moan perishing in your throat as you took him in. Above you, the man groaned in satisfaction, one of his large hands resting on the back of your head.

“Move.”

You agreed with a whimper, closing your eyes as your mouth moved up and down on his member, cheeks hollowing every time you sucked him. Taehyung got you just the way that he liked: so small beneath him, with your doll-like eyes looking up at him through a thin curtain of your tears. He always thought you looked so pretty with his cock inside your mouth, your perfect lips and tongue making him lose his mind.

“Fuck. Such a good cockslut.” He raised his hips just enough to reach deeper inside your throat, making you gag around him. The sound was beautiful to his ears, turned into a much more heavenly symphony when it quickly morphed into a muffled moan. Taehyung loved watching you struggle with his size, it made him want to break you apart. “You like my cock, baby?”

You nodded, but it seemed like it wasn’t enough. Taehyung tugged in your hair, signaling that he wanted you to remove your mouth from him. He needed to hear you say it, and you were beyond happy to oblige. “I love it, sir,” you told him, your voice a bit groggy from your previous act. “So much. It’s so huge.”

“Suck it harder, then.” His own voice was a bit airy, not so rough around the edges. He must’ve been close. “Show me how much you love it.”

This time, just a simple nod from your part satisfied him, for he allowed your mouth to wrap around his cock once again. Without hesitation, you did as he told you to, sucking his cock harder, taking it deeper than you were before. Your new approach was a gift from god, it appeared, because it took you no time to have Taehyung’s animosity meeting away.

“That’s it, that’s my dirty girl,” he praised, fingers intertwined in your hair. You could feel his big cock throbbing inside your mouth, releasing precum. It was just a matter of time before he spilled himself inside your mouth. “Gonna make me cum like a good slut.”

You moaned around him, one hand moving down to play with his balls. Taehyung hissed at the sensation, throwing his head back and groaning something you couldn’t quite grasp. There were beautiful droplets of sweat accumulating just above his white collar — it was almost humiliating how naked you felt when compared to his dressed, composed self — and this thick neck seemed to be calling for you, wishing that you’d place hot, messy kisses all over it. But you couldn’t do it just yet, not when he was about to cum down your throat.

Taehyung’s breath hitched and you instantly knew that he was just there. A couple more seconds and your theory was proven right: he grunted as his hot cum filled your mouth, a vague rising of his hips making his tip hit the back of your throat. “Fuck,” he cursed. “Don’t swallow yet.”

Oh he was in that mood, it seemed.

Apparently your plan had worked better than expected, because it had been a long time since Taehyung didn’t ask you to swallow his cum right away. As much as he adored when you did that, he also loved seeing his cum on you — splattered on your abdomen, on your tits, on your ass; maybe running between your pussy lips after he was done fucking you or, in that case, in your mouth. You didn’t quite understand the appeal that it had, but who were you to judge?

You removed his cock from your mouth soon after, filled with expectation as he shifted above you, leaning in closer. You blinked up at him as his hand found the underside of your jaw.

“Let me see.” Taehyung pulled on your chin and you quickly got your cue, opening your mouth. A flash of lust shimmered inside his eyes at the sight of his cum inside your mouth, the corner of his lips being tugged upwards into a satisfied smirk. “Perfect. Swallow now.” He closed your mouth.

Once again, you did as he commanded. “Thank you, sir,” you said. The discomfort between your legs was growing at a fast progression, monopolizing your mind — you had already been so good to your husband, did everything that he told you to, and now your own arousal was getting the best of you. You shifted around on the ground, your knees still hurting a bit. “Sir, please…”

Taehyung hummed, caressing your cheek. “What is it?”

“I'm so horny, I wanna cum,” you whined.

“Is that so?” Taehyung questioned, thumb caressing your bottom lip. It was a bit swollen after you had blown him, made him want to bite it. Instead, he leaned back against the couch. “Stand up.”

You fumbled as you got up to your feet, unsure of what to do next. Luckily, you didn’t have to think about it for long, because Taehyung soon gripped you by the hips and pulled you closer to him, your shins knocking on the sofa. His fingers were surprisingly tender as they slowly navigated towards your pussy, pulling the dainty pink fabric aside. “Love the color,” he mumbled as if he was talking to himself. You were just about to thank him, but your words were ripped out of you when his finger sunk between your folds. “Look at my girl. Got this wet just by sucking my cock, baby?” He looked up at you. You felt dizzy under his intense gaze, barely nodding in return. He smiled. “How dirty.”

You wanted to touch him, to find support on his broad shoulders, but you didn’t know if you were allowed to. Instead, you merely gasped as Taehyung started toying with your sensitive entrance, feeling as if your legs would fail you at any time. “Sir, please,” you pleaded once more, “I need you.”

He hummed, one finger slowly entering you. You practically melted as Taehyung added a second one right away, curling them up in the way you loved so much. “Yes, darling, I heard you.” But it didn’t seem like he did, for his hungry gaze was trapped on the sinking of his digits inside your tight hole. You were so on edge that you could cum just like that; a few desperate whimpers already dripping from your lips as he continued his movements. Your sounds seemed to drag him back to reality, though, for he was soon removing them from your pussy, ignoring your frustrated cries. “Go to the bedroom.” His eyes snapped up at you. “You better be naked in bed when I get there.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

If you didn’t know Taehyung as well as you did, perhaps that command would’ve taken the worries off your shoulders. However, the thing was: when your husband was in that headspace, you could never really predict what would come from it. Just because he had sent you to the bedroom, it didn’t mean that he would suddenly become pliant and adamant to fulfill your every need — if anything, it meant that he had enough energy and discipline to spare. If he wanted to fuck you straight away (like you had begged him to), he would’ve just taken you on the couch, like he had done countless times before. No, the fact that he was sending you — alone — to the bedroom was probably not such a good sign.

When you entered the suite, you started removing your bra, then your panties and, finally, the thigh high socks. You felt yourself become more and more uneasy as you laid down bare on the bed, feeling as small shock waves of anticipation ran through your body. Every time you heard a noise coming from somewhere else in the apartment, your heart missed a beat.

Taehyung liked to make those moments as dragged-out as possible. He got some sick kick out of it, you guessed, probably made him feel like a predator stalking its prey, playing with its food. He liked to leave you wondering what he would do to you, and you couldn’t say you were bothered by it either.

At last, when you thought that your heart was about to jump out of your chest, he walked into the bedroom, his slender fingers loosening his silk tie. It was a stark contrast how dressed Taehyung still was — everything still in place, with only the zipper of his pants still opened. He looked absolutely composed, his dark eyes following the curves of your body as he gradually approached you.

“Beautiful,” he complimented, sitting down next to you. The bed dipped under his weight, making your breasts bounce slightly. His gaze fell over them and he hummed, one hand tenderly squeezing the flesh. You gasped at the sensation, which ripped a small chuckle out of him. “And so sensitive.”

You didn’t know if it was the best moment to speak up, so you didn’t. Instead, you waited as Taehyung’s hand gradually made its way up your chest, towards your neck and, finally, to your cheek. There, it stayed for a moment, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. He really enjoyed doing that, it seemed. “Open up for me,” he requested. And so you did, lips parting so two of his fingers could enter your mouth. Taehyung pressed down on your tongue, making you release a small whimper, before allowing you to suck on his fingers. “That’s it. What do we say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you struggled to speak against his fingers.

“That’s right.” Taehyung removed his digits from your mouth, lowering them until they were pressed against your clit. You moaned and raised your hips under the random surge of pleasure, but his other hand soon met the skin of your inner thigh, making you stand still. “Shhh, shhh,” he shushed you, “don’t move now.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly slid between your folds. The pressure was light, barely teasing your sensitive entrance before going back up to play with your clit.

“So fucking soaked for me, doll,” Taehyung groaned, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth opened a little, allowing a small sob to fall from it. “Such an eager little pussy.”

“S-Sir,” you gasped, fingers digging to the pristine white sheets of your bed. You had just changed them, and now they were bearing witness to your sinful acts. “I want you.”

Taehyung hummed, apparently distracted with the sensation of your slickness covering him. “You have me, darling.”

“N-Not your fingers,” you said. “Want your cock, please.”

The moment he stopped his movements, you realized you had fucked up. Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue that shot straight through your chest, quickening your heartbeat. “You’re so spoiled.” He removed his hand from your heat and you didn’t even find the force within you to complain about it. Not when he was looking at you with such a mixture of disappointment and frustration. “You tell me you want to cum, and then that my fingers aren’t good enough for you?”

“Sorry, sir,” you rushed to say, a frail veil of tears shimmering in your eyes. You felt like you had been edged for hours, even if that wasn’t the case. The sexual tension was just too high, leaving you so worked up that it hurt. And there was also an extra level of desperation knowing that your release wasn't exactly your decision at that moment. “Please, I need it so bad.”

Taehyung scrutinized your face for a moment, watching the quick beating of your eyelashes and the thin layer of sweat that covered your skin. He felt a familiar sense of power washing over him, watching intently for every sign of pleading eagerness that covered your features. You looked so beautiful, he thought, so meek and polite under him. You had been so good, after all, there was no need to postpone your pain any further.

But he would. For just a tiny bit longer.

Taehyung breathed out. “You’re lucky I’m feeling nice. Turn around.” He slapped the inside of your thigh, a smirk blossoming at the corners of his pink lips as he watched you yelp in surprise. Still, you obeyed him once again, turning until you were on your stomach. “Hands and knees. Ass up. And don’t look behind you.”

After you had positioned yourself, Taehyung started undressing. You could only hear the shuffling of his clothes as he gradually removed them — taking his sweet time as his eyes lingered on your form. He could see that you were still so absolutely soaked for him, the glistening of your pussy making his cock throb inside his underwear. He would tease you a bit further if he, himself, had it in him to wait a bit longer. However, at that moment, there was nothing that Taehyung wanted more than to be buried deep inside your cunt.

You bounced up and down on the bed as he kneeled on it, hands on your hips tugging you towards him. You whined when you felt the pressure of his hard cock between your ass cheeks, your pussy clenching around nothing. Still, you waited for him to make the first move, since your latest attempt at asking for more had earned you a scolding from his part.

And, apparently, not only that. All air ran out of your lungs when you felt Taehyung’s hand collapsing against the skin of your ass once, twice, until you were crying out. “Sir, wait—“

“Quiet,” he reprimanded. “You’re always misbehaving. Can you take your punishment now? Or are you going to keep complaining?”

That was his way of asking for your consent to keep going, you realized, and you promptly gave it to him. “Y-Yes, sir.”

Another slap against your ass was what you recieved, this time on the other side. Taehyung’s palm was heavy on your skin, and you relished in the pain it left behind; your hands holding onto the pillows for any sort of grounding. “Good. Maybe this will teach you not to be so fucking spoiled,” he growled, hitting you once more. Your body jumped forwards a bit, legs weak beneath you. “Stand still.”

You tried your best to do so, enduring a few more spanks until Taehyung had deemed it sufficient. If you had been wet before, now you were completely drenched, every nerve on your body standing alert to the smallest of touches. So much in fact that, when he leaned in to place a kiss against your shoulder, you cried out at the feeling of his cock moving between your ass cheeks.

“Pretty.” His hand caressed the sensitive skin where he had hit you before. You flinched under his touch, but liked the stinging pain that came along with it. “Gonna fuck you now, love.”

You could’ve sobbed in relief. “Yes, yes, please, sir.”

Taehyung leaned back slowly, one hand curling around the base of his cock so he could guide himself inside you. His crown slid between your folds once, twice, making you whimper as it accidentally hit your clit. The sounds of your wetness were shameful, filling the room as he pressed himself against your opening. You sighed and whimpered at the feeling, for a moment thinking that your thighs would give out beneath you. Instead, Taehyung held you up as his cock gradually plunged inside you, stretching you wide.

There hadn’t been as much preparation as you’d like, but the small rush of pain was a welcomed one. You moaned out his name as his big cock continued to sink inside you, feeling every inch of it as it filled you up. Taehyung was fucking huge and, even after so long by his side, you had never truly grown used to it.

You gasped when he entered you completely, his hands giving a last pull on your hips to make sure that he couldn’t go any deeper. “S-So much,” you stuttered.

He scoffed. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Now fucking take it.” Taehyung angled his hips back, sliding his cock out of your heat until only his tip was inside. He came slamming back in, sinking into your velvety walls like they were made for him to fuck. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, it’s just pulling me in. Dripping down my cock, fuck.”

And you could only moan out at his filthy words, brain turning into a chaotic mess as he started drilling in and out of you. At that point, you had been so worked up that you could only focus on the amazing sensation of his cock fucking you open, so big and heavy inside you.

From what you could hear, Taehyung wasn’t much different. His controlling attitude had started to wash away as his high started to approach; the room filled with the low grunts and moans that came from his throat. He was holding onto you so tightly that you thought he was going to break you in half, his thrusts deep, fast and precise. Really, it was shameful how close you already were, walls tightening around his length as your legs started to shake.

“S-So good, sir, your cock feels so good,” you moaned out, lost in bliss. “I’m c-close.”

“Cum all over my cock, baby,” Taehyung grunted. “Come on, be good for me.”

You nodded, clenching your jaw as you felt your pleasure rising at a thundering speed. Taehyung wasn’t planning on slowing down either, his cock hitting deep inside your pussy and making your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, oh my—“ you cursed out, but could not finish your sentence. Your orgasm washed over you like an avalanche, whitening out your thoughts as your walls clenched around him; loud moans and whimpers of his name falling in a jumbled mess between your lips. “T-Tae…”

The lack of his preferred title seemed to be lost on him, since Taehyung was also approaching his own climax. “So fucking wet. So tight and warm for me. Perfect little cunt,” he was talking to himself at this point, letting his thoughts flow out of his mouth with no apparent direction. “Wanna cum inside your pussy, doll. Fill you up so good.”

You whined out at his words. You were still holding onto the pillows, trying to find any sort of foundation to fight against the sensitivity that was growing inside you. “P-Please, yes.”

Taehyung growled at your words, pushing his body forward until he was squeezing you against the bed. The new angle made his cock hit different spots inside your cunt, a newfound wave of euphoria starting to buzz inside you. “Want that?” His voice was a rough moan against your ear, his breath kissing your skin in dense, hot clouds. “Gonna take my cum like a good slut?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, “I want it so bad.”

“Yeah? Wanna give you a baby, gonna look so fucking pretty for me.” Taehyung’s words hit you like a ton of bricks, making you clench around his cock. You had never realized that you wanted him to say that, especially in a context like that, but it made you melt instantly. And because he knew you so well, he rapidly noticed the way your body responded to it. “You like that?”

You nodded. “Y-Yes.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he moaned, placing a sloppy kiss against your neck. You could feel Taehyung throbbing inside you, signaling that he was close. “So fucking perfect. I love you so much.”

“L-Love you too,” you said back.

Taehyung sighed at your words, a last moan reverberating in his chest before he was spilling himself inside of you. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned at the feeling, getting utterly lost in the way that your walls milked his cock clean, taking everything that he gave you. “Fuck, that’s it.”

With a final, shuddering breath, Taehyung collapsed against you, placing a bunch of kisses on your shoulders. You giggled at the random softness of his actions, feeling as his cock slipped out of you. He rolled around until he was falling backwards on the bed, a final puff of air exploding upon his lips.

“Well, damn.” Taehyung laughed. You could only do the same, pushing your body closer to his. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

You rested your head on his chest. “Because adult life fucking sucks, that’s why.”

“Fair enough.” He sighed. One of his arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close, kissing the top of your head. A fond smile curled up on your lips. “Was I too rough?”

“Just a bit, but I liked it.” You angled your head up to look at him. Taehyung took his cue to kiss your lips instead. “Can you get something to clean me up?”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m feeling pretty lazy right now. Besides…” he trailed off, “Kinda like you like this.”

You rolled your eyes, but the teasing nature of your tone gave your faux-annoyance away. “I figured,” you said. “Wanna talk about the baby situation?”

Taehyung’s face swiftly grew serious. He apparently discovered a new source of energy, because, within a second, he was pushing you off and bolting out of bed. “Suddenly I need to find a towel.”

And you could only laugh because, as it has been proven, you were kind of a mastermind when it came to making evil plans. If Taehyung needed another one to get him talking, you wouldn’t mind elaborating it.

You wouldn’t mind at all.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bts #kim taehyung #x you #x reader #reader insert #bts x you #bts x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #smut #pwp #marriage au

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ventiskies · 4 years ago

Text

when he accidentally injures you | Xiao, Albedo, Bennett

a/n: hello anon!! im doing well, thank you!! hope you are too !! thank you for giving me the chance to add characters HHHH ive been DYING to write for Xiao, Albedo and Benny so i took the opportunity to! hope you like it !! also,,, this is probably my longest post !! i loved writing this <3

pairing: Xiao x gn! reader, Albedo x gn! reader Bennett x gn! reader

warnings: vague mentions of injury and blood

Xiao

★Xiao and you had been on a stroll, something you casually did together whenever Xiao was in a good mood. the adeptus wasn’t one to get out of the confines of Wangshuu Inn, so every time he does, you cherish it and spend it as if it was your last

★but this particular stroll didn’t go as planned, at all

★the two of you had left Wangshuu Inn in the morning, when the weather had seemed as if it would be sunny the whole morning, but it had betrayed you the moment you had set foot in Minlin, the skies had loomed with darkness and occasional rumbles of thunder

★Xiao could have easily teleported the two of you together, but a sudden attack with a ruin hunter had caused him to get distracted

★he could easily defeat the creation with a simple use of his elemental burst, but you were in the vicinity and he didn’t want you getting injured, despite the chances of hitting you were low, he wasn’t going to take the chance

★he had strictly told you to stay back and out of sight, making use of the terrain to jump and strike at the core with his polearm whenever the hunter was aiming to him, but he should have known you were stubborn

★the moment you had ran into the fight, arrow pointing to the ruin hunter, the said war machine had immediately turned towards you, all four of its arms aiming missiles towards you

★Xiao had been too slow, and when he had realized it was aiming towards you, you had already been sent back flying after the hit

★your name fell on his lips, his eyes widening in anger when he had seen what the creature had done, and without any hesitance Xiao summons his elemental burst and sends the creature falling to pieces

★“y/n,” Xiao mutters, worried that he would be met with the sight of you dead, “y/n, where are you?”

★you gave a weak groan, unable to raise your head after hitting it on the sharp rocks. Xiao made his way towards you, and the rain started pouting

★Xiao knelt down and cradled your head gently, seeing the gash on your head. you were most likely suffering from a concussion as well from the way you were unable to look at him in the eye, and your hands grabbing your forehead as if it had exploded

★his eyes showing evident worry, and this was the first time he had felt so scared

★he knew he was powerful, and he was beginning to regret even taking you out of the safety of the Inn. this shouldn't have happened, he was with you because he wanted to protect you,

★and here he was being the cause of your injury

★“y/n, can you hear me?” he asked, and when you hissed the moment he placed a gentle hand on your head, he curses lightly, unable to keep himself calm as he always had anymore, “hold on,”

★Xiao had lived for years and had suffered watching deaths and injuries of the people he had been close with since he had became the adeptus of Liyue, but for once, he had felt a different type of hurt when you had been injured this time

★because this was his fault; what if it had happened again?

★he had teleported the two of you back to Wangshuu Inn, and had asked Verr Goldet to help you just because he was afraid of hurting you further

★and she knew more than to question what happened, especially after Xiao had told her with the weakest voice she has ever heard him use, and pleading eyes to take care of you.

★when you had healed completely, you noticed Xiao had distanced himself from you more than when you had both met the first time, and it had worried you to no end

★it had came to a point where he would disappear whenever you tried to search for him at the balcony, and you were getting upset that he was running away from you because of the accident that was caused by your stubbornness; and the fact that you knew Xiao blamed himself had only made you more guilty

★”Xiao,” you gently said, walking outside with a bowl of his favorite almond tofu, “I miss you,”

★he had to contain himself to avoid disappearing on you again after he heard the words. Xiao wasn’t much of an emotional person, but the memories from the accident had left him afraid of getting close to you again, in fear that he would hurt you once more

★but when he had met your glossy eyes and saw the pained expression you held, he knew that it was only going to be worse is he had avoided you

★”y/n-” Xiao started, but you had only dropped the almond tofu and ran into his arms, hugging him tight as if you were afraid to let him go

★and (with reluctance), Xiao had hugged you back, twice as hard

★it would take time for him to get back to his usual self and trust himself to go out and adventure with you again, but for him, you would wait your lifetime.

Albedo

★An experiment going wrong was a part of alchemy. It was something Albedo would expect to happen fifty percent of the time he conducts something for the first time

★He has gotten a handful of injuries from it that he had sometimes forgotten that people outside of the realm of alchemy wouldn't know what it would be like to expect a burn or scars after the first test

★So of course, sometimes even the smartest people could be careless

★Albedo had brought you to his lab in Dragonspine, claiming that he had found a rare plant and wanted to see if it was able to withstand heat

★Putting it in a flask, he had placed it on a test tube holder and your curious eyes had caught sight of the glowing pink tube

★“What’s this?” you stepped closer to inspect the glowing flask, and Albedo wordlessly looks at you with a fond smile. your curious gaze at his work had always made him feel happy; you truly were endearing

★Albedo turns on the burner, and the moment the fire had hit the flask, the substance had instantly exploded, causing you to recoil back and grab at your face when the substance had burned your face

★instantly, Albedo had abandoned his failed test and attended to you, trying to pry your hands away from your face

★“My love, I’m so sorry,” he says gently, trying to see the damage that the explosion has gave you, “please look at me,”

★you felt tears well in your eyes, the burns on your cheeks combining with the coldness of the snow stinging your face

★when Albedo had successfully pried your hands away , he grabbed them gently and looked at you, “we- we need to see the deaconess,” he mutters to himself, feeling his heart ache seeing you holding back tears, never in his life had he regretted conducting an experiment so badly;

★he had wished he was able to take the pain away from you, he absolutely despised seeing you so hurt

★after you had healed, Albedo would make a rule that you weren’t ever allowed in the premises of his laboratory ever again, and that you were banned from joining him whenever he was conducting experiments

★it had hurt you when Albedo had adamantly decided on it, but you knew that it would only hurt him more if you tried to fight him about it

★he was still blaming himself for the incident; despite him knowing that errors were completely common in alchemy

★his greatest fear was hurting you, and if he was given a choice, he would rather have you far away as possible from anything that could lead to potential harm

★(and that especially meant that when the time comes and he loses control and destroys Mond, he hopes you would be far away from him as possible, too)

Bennett

★Bennett knew he was bad luck, he knew that was mostly the reason there wasn't anyone on his team. no one wanted to get hurt and gain nothing on an adventure. no one wanted to bring a bunch of medical supplies for when an accident that was bound to happen, happens

★no one but you

★you were the only member in Bennett’s team; you were a duo. you didn’t wield a vision, but that didn't make Bennett think of you any less, in fact, he thought you were the bravest person ever for being just a feet away from him outside of Mond, and now you were a team member of his

★injuries were common for you. there would always be some sort of scratch or bleeding whenever you went out on an adventure with the pyro vision holder. if there wasn’t a monster encounter, the two of you would accidentally trip and fall into a lake

★but when the latter happens, Bennett would have a fire for the two of you, and settle in an empty (at least, you hope was) hilichurl camp nearby to warm up in

★it was the norm now, and despite Bennett wanting you to just choose another team because he couldn't handle seeing you in pain from his luck, you had always reassured him that the unexpected turns of events because of his luck was just what you had loved about adventure, and you always trusted him to take care of you whenever something like that happened

★but of course, it was only a matter of time until it was Bennett himself who had hurt you

★you were both fighting a cryo abyss mage, the bastard’s protective shield already broken by Bennett’s elemental skill, causing the creature to start crawling on the ground pathetically

★you were sure its health had already decreased a significant amount that one slice could kill it off instantly, and you had wanted to give the final blow

★but Benny seemed to have a different idea

★the moment Bennett had saw you coming, it had been too late for him to stop, because the same moment you had ran towards the abyss mage, he had raised his sword and sliced the creature hard to the point that his sword had accidentally sliced your stomach as well

★thankfully, your clothes were thick enough that the cut hadn’t been deep enough to get stitches, but it still hurt so badly that you had fallen to the floor, clutching your stomach

★“y/n, what happened?!” he asked, too worried to remember that it had been him who did it, “are you okay?!- wait, no, that was a stupid question, let me see,”

★Bennett was an excellent team leader, but sometimes, he could be a little oblivious

★he gently lays you on his lap, taking out supplies from his belt. he had saw a glimpse of red, so he takes out towels to wipe the blood

★he had gently asked if he could lift your shirt, and when you had weakly nodded, he assessed the damage

★and that was when he had saw the burns by your cut

★burns. the abyss mage was a cryo one, and there wasn't any source of fire where you were but him

★Bennett felt his breath hitch, hands holding the towel clenching in fear. what had he done?

★“no, no, no,” he says in slight panic; this was exactly what he was afraid would happen, “no, no, y/n I’m so sorry. I was supposed to protect you,” his voice broke, gently pressing the towel on your wound to soak up the blood, and when he heard you hiss in pain, he felt tears well in his eyes, “I’m so sorry...”

★he knew the cut wasn’t deep, and you were going to be okay, but the mere thought that the fact you couldn't move and were in pain was because of his doing had caused Bennett to be unable to focus

★you were taken to Barbara immediately, Bennett carrying you bridal style the whole way back (he had been silent, while you had tried to start a conversation with lighthearted banter with him, he had only given you a half hearted laugh before focusing on his journey back) and was healed with a simple swish of the deaconess’ hands

★but afterwards, Bennett had started to spend less time outside of Mondstadt, saying that he had preferred to read at the library with you, and that was extremely unlike of him

★you knew it was because he was blaming himself for what had happened, so you had to let him know that you were fine, and that you knew that it was bound to happen anyways

★It would take a lot of reassurance for Benny to agree to even step a foot outside again, but in the end, it would be worth it to see his adventurer spirit once more

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songmingisthighs · 3 years ago

Text

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. liii - sugar daddy

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

Dinner couldn't have gone better. Sure, Seonghwa's dad mostly ignored you, only throwing questions here and there to avoid Seonghwa's mom nagging at him. But he was mostly preoccupied with his phone. At one point, while his dad was so focused on his phone, Seonghwa leaned close to you and whisper 'one of the mistresses' to you, making you giggle.

"You know, (Y/N), I don't think I've ever seen Seonghwa smiled this wide when he's around us, you must be a pretty special lady," his mom said to you with a gentle smile.

You blushed in slight embarrassment at the compliment, "I sure hope so, ma'am, because I gotta say that he's very special to me too," you said as you look up to Seonghwa.

Hearing you said that made Seonghwa bit his bottom lip to prevent him from giggling out loud. So he opted to place a hand on your thigh and squeezed it gently, letting you know how he appreciated your words. Seeing this, his mom squealed and gushed about how adorable you both are and how glad she is that he found you.

Even after the topic was changed, Seonghwa didn't seem to lift his hand off of your thigh. He had actually moved to caress it gently with his fingers. You assumed it helped him be at ease so you didn't think much about it and let him be.

As dinner progressed to dessert, you found yourself having fun bonding with his mom and sometimes his dad when he wasn't glaring at his phone or when his mom directly addressed him. You realized that his parents are actually unlike most rich parents which then would explain why Seonghwa is who he is. Maybe minus the cheating father.

One other thing you realized is that Seonghwa's hand that was on your thigh had moved significantly higher, it was resting inside your skirt, just a bit past the hem, and that he was sitting closer than before. You felt your heartbeat quicken as his fingers drew shapes on your inner thigh, exhilarated yet worried and slightly embarrassed as his parents are directly across from you two.

"Honey, there's the Kims, we should go and say hi," his mom said, tapping his dad's arm and they immediately went over to the other table after excusing themselves for one second.

As quickly as they left, Seonghwa snapped his head to you in a panicked state, "quick, take off your panties!" he said in a hurried tone. You widened your eyes at him and stared at him as if he was crazy. But he kept urging you with a panicked voice, ultimately rendering you panicked as well. Nevertheless, you did as told and slyly slip your panties off and lift them with your legs to capture them but Seonghwa beat you to the punch as he took the panties and stashed them in his pockets. Just in time as his parents return to the table. Seonghwa sent you an inconspicuous wink and that was when you realized that he has a plan.

The first time he made a move was when you were taking a sip of your water. He let his finger roamed up and slip easily to your folds, almost making you choke.

"Oh gosh, dear, are you alright?" his mom asked you. You wanted to answer but you were still coughing slightly. Seonghwa took this as an opportunity. He used his perfect-boyfriend act when he pulled your hair out of your face and dab his napkin around your mouth, perfectly covering his other hand that managed to slip deep into your hole, almost making you choke again.

First strike.

His next move was when he was seemingly very much absorbed in a conversation about business with his parents, leaving you out of the conversation but still paying attention to you. Though his hand was still under your skirt, it remained stagnant and still.

But out of nowhere, as he talked about acquisition and mergers, his fingers pinched your clit rather harshly. You jolted up in surprise as your legs clamped shut, trapping Seonghwa's hand inside.

Again, his mom asked whether or not you were okay, and you tried your best to convinced her that you are despite Seonghwa's fingers' constant teasing. When Seonghwa turned around to look at you, you saw the smug smirk on his face and by God you never wanted to smack someone more.

Second strike.

The last strike was when you all were having dessert and Seonghwa pretended to have dropped his fork. You were on edge since he had taken his hand out for a while and the slick in your pussy had started to bother you.

He ducked down under the table just as you shifted the position of your legs. He saw his, literal, opening and slotted his face between your legs and licked a stripe up your pussy. Thank God for the table cloth or else you both would've been kicked out of the restaurant for sure.

You let out a sharp squeak which was thankfully held back a little because you had your mouth close.

Just as quickly as you reacted to him, Seonghwa also quickly returned to his position, playing the act of a perfect, doting boyfriend. "Baby, you okay? You don't look well," he made a fuss by pressing the back of his hand to your forehead and cheeks which were red because you've been blushing out of embarrassment and arousal.

"You know what, Seonghwa, sweetie, you should really take (Y/N) here home, take care of her, alright?" his mom said.

You smiled sheepishly at her and also to Seonghwa's dad, "I'm so sorry I had to cut things short," you told them. Seonghwa's mom laughed wholeheartedly at you as she waved her hands around, "it's no problem at all, darling. Besides, we're going to meet each other again soon, I'm going to make sure Seonghwa bring you to family dinner, okay?" she smiled warmly at you. Even his dad managed to look up at you and smiled genuinely.

After bidding your goodbyes to both of them, Seonghwa took your hand in his and immediately ran out to get his car from the valet. As you both waited, you grip on the lapel of his blazer and tugged him close to you, "how fucking dare you," you muttered lowly.

Seonghwa smirked and brushed his lips against the skin of your cheek, "can't help it baby, you looked so damn good and knowing I prettied you up made me... hungry," he growled. His lips moved to your ear to inconspicuously nibble on your earlobe, "who's your daddy?"

Your legs almost wobbled at that. If Seonghwa hadn't had his arm around you, you sure would've dropped to the ground and let him take you then and there.

But thankfully the car came right at that moment and to say you bolted yourself into the car.

Once Seonghwa got onto the driver's seat, he gripped onto your arm and stared at you intently, "you are not to touch yourself, you got me?" he stated. You stammered, you wanted to protest but he only stared at you, unmoving.

You jutted your lips and crossed your arms in protest, staring forward in disappointment. Much to your surprise, Seonghwa smacked your thigh hard enough to make it red, "I said, you got me?" he stressed each word, indicating that he needed verbal confirmation from you. "y-yes, I understand, I won't touch myself," you whimpered.

Satisfied, Seonghwa rubbed the reddened spot on your thigh and began driving.

Whilst Seonghwa was focused on driving, an idea popped into your head. A quite dangerous one at that. But you really wanted to get back at him for playing with you in front of his parents. You didn't know what made you decide on going forth, but you were sure your horniness had a large play.

Quickly getting yourself to work, you had somehow managed to unzip Seonghwa's pants and whip his hardening dick out. You licked your lips at the sight, your hand began stroking him as the other settled on his thigh in order to stabilize yourself.

"What are you-" Seonghwa's words were cut off with his own moan as you delved down to take his dick deep in your mouth. Hearing him moaned out only egged you to go on further.

You deepthroated Seonghwa as best as you could, sucking him whilst letting your hand play with his balls.

"B-baby, you ca-an't do this," he said through gritted teeth. You peered up only to see his eyes glued to the road, but his hands were gripping onto the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles turned white. You took him out of your mouth to pump him in with your hand instead, you rested your head on his thighs and looked up to him with a pout on your face, "you said I couldn't play with myself, well I'm not! I'm playing with you, you and your pretty cock," you proceeded to lick along the vein of his dick.

Seonghwa groaned as his resolve started to wither away. Even whilst preoccupied with Seonghwa's dick, you could feel that he was speeding to go back.

With every suck or pump, Seonghwa's dick hardened and along with that, his need to cum. It was a gamble, sure, but you couldn't help yourself. It was a sudden automatic urge to tease Seonghwa. Maybe you could blame it on hanging out with Wooyoung too much.

You continued bobbing your head on Seonghwa's cock as quickly as you can. You started something and you wanted to make sure that you're going to finish. And by finish you meant him cumming down your throat.

Due to being so focused on Seonghwa's dick, you hadn't realized that you both had arrived at the frat. The car came to a full stop in front of the frat and was put in park.

Just as you were about to release Seonghwa from your mouth, Seonghwa held your neck and groaned, "you best keep your head there until I cum so deep down your throat that you'd choke," he ordered.

You happily obliged and returned to work him. Seonghwa's demand to make him cum only encourage you. You'd bob your head on him, fondle his balls, graze your teeth against his tip, and squeeze his dick. It proved to be very effective as Seonghwa threw his head back and began to thrust his own hips up to your mouth, wanting more.

His lips began calling out your name in moans. You could imagine his eyes screwed shut as he desperately chased his release.

It wasn't until two, three more deepthroating that he came in your mouth. You could feel his dick twitched in your mouth as his warm cum trickle down your throat. The feeling made you moan and the vibration of your voice shot up from his dick to his spine, making him shudder.

You managed to swallow all of him clean, not leaving a single drop out. After you detached yourself from his dick, you could feel that he was about to pull you in for a kiss. But you expertly evaded him and dart out of his car into the frat instead.

"Hey- wait!" Seonghwa called out, cursing and immediately shoving his dick back into the pants and lock the car to follow after you.

When you walked into the frat, you ran past San and Jongho who were on the couch, watching something on the tv. You ran straight to the staircase and aim for Seonghwa and Hongjoong's bedroom.

Maybe it was because you weren't exactly running away from him, or maybe he was really just that fast, but he caught up to you mid-step and heave you up onto his shoulder wordlessly. He sent a spank onto your ass, making you yelp loudly. The sound of your voice didn't break his focus as he immediately entered your room.

As soon as he put you down on the floor, he gripped onto your chin and kissed you roughly.

"Strip naked for me," he said against your lips before letting you go. The serious tone in his voice made you hurriedly tug all of your clothes off and simply shove them to the side somewhere.

When you finally looked up, you saw Seonghwa on your bed, naked with his cock in his hand. He motioned for you to come to him with one hand while his other one was sliding up and down his slick shaft. The sight was so arousing, you could've sworn your juice leaked out of you.

"Ride me," he ordered as soon as you arrived next to the bed. You immediately obliged, throwing a leg over him and immediately slip his dick inside your pussy. Both of you moaned loudly when you felt how he filled you up and he felt how warm you are.

"Fucking move baby, I need you so bad," Seonghwa moaned out. His hips rolled up against yours and immediately you took the hint. You anchored yourself on his chest and began thrusting yourself up and down his dick. You threw your head back at the feeling and let out a long moan.

Not wanting you to work by yourself, Seonghwa gripped your hips and began meeting your thrusts. The sudden powerful hit from his hips made your arms weak and you almost toppled over onto his body.

"H-Hwa, you feel so good," you moaned out, moving your hips faster on him. Seonghwa reached a hand up to your breast and began squeezing and playing with your nipple, adding to the pleasure even more. "You feel even better, baby," he said, tongue licking his bottom lip.

The sight of his tongue was enough to drove you almost mad. You leaned forward and crash your lips to his, locking you both in a desperate kiss all the while your hips move as quickly as it could, not minding the fact that you might be sore tomorrow. Tonight, you only thought about Seonghwa fucking you.

Both of you moved in tandem with each other. Seonghwa held you as close as he could, a hand wrapped around your waist and another grabbing onto your ass, squeezing the flesh hard. Meanwhile, you were busy exploring Seonghwa's mouth with your tongue, his own tongue would even fight you for dominance.

Maybe it was because Seonghwa had been teasing you all through dinner, but you felt yourself so close to the edge. Your pussy clenched on his dick, signalling him of your impending climax.

As if to tell you to cum, Seonghwa planted his feet on your bed and began thrusting at a pace much quicker than yours. Because you were on top of him, you could feel him thrusting deep in you, rubbing onto your sweet spot continuously until you froze and came on top of him. His lips prevented you from moaning too loud which was a shame but you couldn't really protest.

It took Seonghwa a couple more thrust into your clenching pussy before he completely emptied himself in you. Both of your cum mixing and trailing down your thighs onto his and even dropping onto the bed.

The once ferocious kiss changed to a romantic one as Seonghwa nibbled onto your bottom lip sweetly. You could feel him smile against your own lips.

"You did great, baby," he said, letting your body drop down fully on top of him. When he was about to slip out of you, you whined in protest and hugged him tightly like a koala. Seonghwa chuckled at your adorableness, he carded a hand through your hair sweetly and peck your forehead, "we gotta clean up, baby, you've got cum in you and everywhere else," he said.

You whined and buried your face onto the crook of his neck in protest, "do that tomorrow, I like having you inside me," you pouted. Though his instinct told him to remove you and clean up, he couldn't say no to you. He knew he has no power if it comes to anything concerning you.

So he defeatedly sighed and somehow covered both of your bodies with your blanket. He made sure that you were in a comfortable position before closing his own eyes to get some rest.

The last thing you heard was him telling you goodnight and then a soft peck landed on your forehead before you drifted off to dreamland.

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shadowworks · 4 years ago

Text

Compulsion

Pairing: Mafia!Dabi X Reader

Warnings: dubconish themes, flirting with Hawks, blood, murder, blackmail, fingering. NSFW, quirkless AU!

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Alright! This piece is for The Smut Pile Mafia Collab

I have to give my wholehearted thanks to @hisoknen @some-kindofgnome , @pleasantanathema, and @ever-enthralled for reading this over the last couple weeks, and making sure it reads well! I am so happy to have you beautiful souls! Also a special shoutout to Raph for brainstorming with me when I was stuck at the very end. 💕

Edit: This has fanart! Beautiful @maewoahoah created a Mafia!Hawks piece right here and a Mafia!Dabi piece here! She’s very talented! ;)

On this ominous winter evening it begins snowing.

You readjust your peacoat and step through the frosty glow of the street lamp to your front door. Your muscles ache a little more than usual, your steps a little heavier. It’s been a long and tedious day at work; far less stimulating compared to Toga’s position working for a bootlegger named Tomura. But both jobs pay the rent. You push papers and withhold your scowls towards clients. Now, you want a bath.

The sound of a muffled radio plays on the other side, and it floods your ears as you walk in with warmth and an iron smell wafting your chilled nose.

“Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary...

Seeeee, my baby there;

She's stretched out on a long, white table

She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair.”

Toga’s playing blues again. It’s a routine she has before the graveyard shift across town. At this time, she’s in the kitchen making something before she goes, but you’re having trouble figuring out what food smells like copper.

“He-e-e-y,” you call lazily, a sing-songy tone in your voice.

She doesn’t answer, though you hear the clacking of stiletto heels on wood, which makes you amble down the hall to see what she’s doing.

“Think you can smuggle some whiskey tonight? I thought we had some, but Keigo probably polished it off last—“

You stop in the doorway.

There’s a poor bastard lying flat on his back, head twisting too far towards the sink. Ribbons of blood streak down his colorless skin, pouring out from a dark and glossy hole just beneath his jaw. You see it puddle and stain the edges of his hair a sticky red, the only sound besides your heart thudding is the soft thrums from the parlor.

“ When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat

Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain

So the gang'll know I died standing pat.”

You’re in a daze, one where you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring. It doesn’t seem real. Is it real? But it’s not until you hear the sound of heels clicking against the wood floors that you drag your gaze to the noise.

Toga’s standing near the stove, her features vacant, shoulders slouched, and she’s holding a knife that’s still wet.

What the fuck?

You want to scream, berate her, seethe what the fuck was she thinking, or if she was thinking for that matter. But the blonde speaks up before you do, with a voice above a whisper.

“He was going to leave me. Said he was too dangerous.” Toga doesn’t look in your direction, moving to the rim of pooled blood which has stopped spreading out, “I told him I wouldn’t let anyone come between us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your jaw goes taut, staring incredulously at her steely face. The lack of emotion gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The man wasn’t a random suit who bled out on your floor, this moron was seeing Toga on and off for months and had been trying to be more present.

Nights spent arriving at your door with flowers and sweets, and driving her to work was becoming a staple in his routine. He preferred staying in Toga’s room if they had the day off, and he always slipped out when the morning frost dusted the grass, a soft bluish hue painting the streets before sunlight.

But that’s not the problem. See, he was a core member inside the Mafia running the northern side of the city, ‘The League’ they like to call themselves. The only men above this guy was his boss Tomura, and the underboss Dabi. You don’t know the former, but you’ve spent time with the latter.

You’re aware of his sadistic nature that flashes behind those teal eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide it, either. The sideway glances during a poker match before he fucked someone over , the smile he wore when you asked about the purple bruises on his knuckles.

So fan-fucking-tastic, the broad has some nerve.

You curl your lip, already shrugging your shoulders from your coat. You toss it over the table and start rolling up your sleeves to the elbows.

Toga finally turns towards you after catching movement by her side, brows raising confused, “What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna grab his feet and we’re gonna move him onto the rug in the hall.”

You step in the blood, grabbing him by the rusty black colored jacket and dragging him from the puddle. Of course it leaves drag marks, your heels making tracks alongside, but you can deal with the clean up later.

Toga hurries over to help, carrying him by the legs and letting you guide the body to the floral rug.

“You don’t want to know what happened?”

You stop. Immediately dropping the dead weight, his blond head lolls off to the side. Your palms sheen with red, but you straighten up and push a beach curl from your cheekbone with the back of your hand.

“Not really. All I want is this fucker out of my house.”

It’s her turn to stare at you incredulously. This is completely out of nowhere for you to be assisting in hiding a dead boyfriend, even if you two are roommates. You’ve only been living together for four months now.

“Toga, I need you to listen, okay?” you say, a bit mockingly, “I can look past the murdering business by pretending you acted in self defense, but if you don’t have the goddamn brains to realize this idiot has friends, then I suggest you don’t stab people!”

Toga flinches slightly at the lilted pitch in your voice, already suggesting panicky, “We can take him to the woods and hide him there?”

“That’ll work.” You don’t think Twice about it.

Working together, you both hoist him a couple feet onto the rug, refusing to look at his face. You didn’t need to be feeling a pang of guilt. It doesn’t take long for you to roll him towards the front door, as the material wraps around his figure.

The hardest part is retreating to the car. The moment you push through the door, you see the distance from where you stand and the car parked a little down the sloping street. You both give a hard look to the powdery snow dusting the ground, quiet and enchanting. It would be beautiful...had you not been carrying a corpse.

“Stop being a little bitch and heave!”

“I can’t! You’re making me hold all the weight!”

“He’s off the ground! How the fuck are you holding all the weight?”

“But my arms hurt!”

“Fucking hell, Toga. What if I had stayed at my sister’s tonight? What then?”

“Stop yelling at me! I get it, alright? I shouldn’t have done it in the house!”

Your bickering toils through the winds, muffled by the falling snow. The burst of cold air is running through your buttoned blouse while crossing to the 1929 Chevrolet causing a shiver to roll down your back. When you reach the car Toga plops the rug down onto the snow first, then you. Your wet fingers feel numb against the metal handle.

There’s one entrance on each side, which likely will make shimming the body to the backseat much harder. You pause, looking at the front in thought.

“I’ll go first,” you say, “when he’s in, you go and grab our coats.”

“Are we burying him?”

“Think the lake’s faster.”

“What if it’s icy? They’ll see the hole if we throw him in.”

You both ponder your options for a little while, this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before...You can’t say the same for Toga, but she seems just as puzzled, almost clueless on how to get rid of her ex.

Meanwhile, the rolled corpse behind you starts to slip downhill, little by little. The slanting street gives speed and the rug starts to roll.. Red droplets trail behind in its wake.

You just happen to see it first.

“Toga—Toga, the body! The body!”

Toga cries out, taking off after the rug as best she can on a frozen sheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The graceful snowfall flutters with pain and chaos.

Toga skids against the fresh ice, feet stumbling under her navy blue dress. She falls to the ground with a hard thud, and you see she isn’t stopping. She keeps going alongside the body, sliding until the two disappear under another parked car.

You don’t have time to think, a chill strikes up your spine in your panic.

“Toga!” you call out, taking off after her. Unfortunately you find yourself abruptly on your back, pounding hard on the stones and stealing the breath from your lungs.

If you could sigh right now you would. Or rather, if you could punch Toga right now you would, as rage twists with a throbbing pain in your chest. Was all this worth having a mobster roommate? The odds were piling against her. You have a mind to push her in the lake when you get there.

Several silent minutes go by with you staring up at the cloudy sky. It’s brighter from the illuminating white snow, and despite the icy powder prickling your flesh, you have no choice but to wait for the ache in your chest to fade.

“Enjoying the view?”

You hear a new voice, male, and the suave tone tells you who it is before he treads near. He looks over you with half lidded eyes of honey gold.

He’s very pretty. The drifting snow flakes above his wheat coloured head manage to enhance this, though the uplifted eyes lined in black, and nicely sharp features are the last thing you want to see. You’re nowhere near ready to start lying out of Toga’s mess.

“That can’t be too comfy down there,” Keigo says, bending forward with an outstretched hand,“C’mon, upsy-daisy.”

You take his hand, feeling another leather glove hold your waist and lift you onto your feet. When you settle, he starts brushing the caked snow off your back. Mobster or not, he’s at least a gentleman.

“You alright?” he asks, giving you a once over for any fresh scratches.

You give a slow nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Fear’s got the better of you, and you look anywhere but him., “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”

“Oh I am! You could say I’m on patrol, need to pick up a few things.”

Your gaze stills to your left, heart skipping. Keigo’s not alone. Standing nearby, a slim figure dressed in black from head to toe is watching you two lazily. A thread of smoke seeps from his parted lips, clouding a handsome face and spikes of black hair. Keigo keeps talking, but you can’t take your eyes off the ghostly presence you know to be Dabi.

“Unfortunately that includes loverboy. He was supposed to be back hours ago, but we figured he’s still fooling around,” a little smirk tugs at his mouth, suggestively “He’s still inside, right?”

You blink, turning back to face Keigo, “I wouldn’t know, I just got home,” you lie.

“Look at you! You look like you’re about to freeze to death.” He starts suddenly, swiftly slipping his arms out from his heavy coat, revealing a black three piece with pinstripes, and a brighter crimson tie. In one smooth motion he twirls the long, beige coat over your shoulders, letting it rest over your figure.

“Thank you,” you say, before your eyes catch something.

Dabi moves towards the clumsy skid marks, head tilting down to the red dots in the snow near his polished shoe. You stiffen.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Your gaze flashes from Dabi’s retreating back to a politely smiling Keigo, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really cold is all.”

“Well, we should get you inside. You know you left your door wide open?” Shit, the door. You forgot about the stupid door—

(Dabi looms across the indents in the snow and follows down the hill like a dark shadow against crystals illuminating bright.)

“Ah yeah, I thought I left my purse in the car. It was just for a second, and then I slipped,” You force a smile. Relax. You need to relax. Keigo doesn’t seem convinced, reading something off in your features.

“Is that right?”

(He gets the edge of the old Ford, and notes the specks of red soak wider here. The spots lead underneath.)

“I know, it’s pretty foolish. It’s um...It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, or...”

Your eyes drift over Keigo’s shoulder. The underboss starts to crouch low. Your pupils shrink, a new wave of panic tingles the back of your neck. Damn him, why was he so clever?

“Dabi, wait!” you shout, pushing past Keigo’s shoulder. In your hurry you kick up the snowy crystals, rushing to the taller mobster in his long obsidian coat. Dabi quickly turns, standing up.tall before you hook onto his upper arm like a lover. “I saw an animal go under there that looked hurt. You shouldn’t mess with it.”

A smirk that breaks into a grin spreads on his face, a look of amusement blooming from your look of fright. You want to glare at him, though that could be dangerous. Why does he like seeing you scared?

“An animal, you say?” he parrots back, adopting the same mocking pitch you gave Toga earlier. He’s not in the least bit on edge, and you really don’t like that. He flicks his teal eyes up to look behind you just then, “Good thing I have the city’s best exterminator right here.”

As if on cue, you hear the crunching boots of Keigo walking to the car. “Give me a break with the dirty work, will ya?”

“What, scared of a little pest?” Dabi taunts back coolly.

“I’m not too fond of getting my knees wet, actually,” Keigo returns quite dryly, sharp eyes studying the long pattern marks. He places his gloved hands on his thighs and drops himself to a crouch in front of the vehicle.

You desperately hope Toga proves you wrong. Maybe she had the common sense to bail while no one was looking. It’s all you can do at this point, while Keigo dips his head underneath. You don’t realize, but your grip on Dabi’s arm presses tighter into the wool.

Keigo inspects below for a moment. There’s a long pause like a winter evening should be. Silent. Calming. You can almost believe in the soothing little lie. Then Keigo coughs a laugh that echoes through the street. Bursts of manic giggles grow louder from the mobster, leaving you tilting your head at his pushed back hair, confused.

“There’s a pest, alright! I think I caught something—“

Keigo reaches under, and with an impressively strong yank, Toga’s head pops out in a doe eyed stare. Her arms are wrapped around a bundled rug with a fairly familiar head sticking out.

“Hey there, Toga!” Keigo exclaims, “When did you become a rat?”

Dabi tips his head down, drawing the lit cigarette back to his lazy smile. He’s shockingly calm which does nothing to ease your shivering panic. Toga however, seems fine. In fact, she’s moved on to livelier feelings.

“Hey! Does it look like a rat could’ve done this?!” she snaps, shaking the body in her arms. It bangs against the bottom of the car sending loud echoes through the nearly empty street. Specks of blood dribble on the white ground, and a couple more drops spray her cheeks.

You stare up at the clouds, rolling your eyes. Goddamnit Toga.

“Yeah, I guess a rat can’t hold a knife, huh? Ya got me there.” Keigo turns and beams you a smug look, eyes half lidded in an expression that reads, nice try, but you failed.

You scrunch your nose, quietly shooting him back a glare. Asshole might’ve caught you both red handed, but he didn’t have to be so fucking cocky about it. It’s only charming when he has a winning hand at cards. Beside you, Dabi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, though you don’t have the guts to flash him the same glower. He is second in command after all.

“Yeah, see? That’s what I thought!” Toga says in victory.

You blink very, very slowly at Toga when she finally meets your vastly unamused gaze,“...Nice work, Toga.”

It comes suddenly. A fiery warmth ghosts the dip in your waist as Dabi leans in. It’s not unwelcomed, raw and soothing even, but it hardly lasts. His hand curls around Keigo’s coat collar and pulls it off your shoulders. The crisp wind rushes to your exposed arms.

“You got any rat poison on you, Hawks?” Dabi tosses the coat to Keigo.

He catches it mid air as he rises to stand. “Nah, fresh out. But we have some back at the house.”

“You want to take care of our rat problem then?”

“Can do, boss man.”

Before you can figure out what they mean–what they have planned for Toga–Dabi’s pristine leather glove presses at the small of your back and directs you toward the pouring light of the open door. “Don’t wait up.”

It’s barely there, but as you shift your eyes to Keigo, his features take on a darkened look toward Dabi.

“Play nice, now,” you hear Keigo say. This time though, the joyous tone is gone.

A new song hums on the radio when you’re pushed through the threshold, you listen to the richly solemn blues as Dabi closes the door. He turns the lock with a click and pockets the key.

“I forgive you

'Cause I can't forget you.

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea”

He doesn’t give you a passing glance, instead he turns and strolls down the freshly bare hall. He hasn’t removed his coat, and each room he passes he tilts his head in to search for something, stopping by the parlor. With a twist of a knob, he shuts off the radio.

“Where’d she ice him?” he asks, still not looking at you by the stairwell.

“In the kitchen.” You return. No point in hiding it now.

His steps creak the wood as he ambles further down, knowing full well where to go. He’s been here a handful of times; of course, those were happier evenings filled with drunken laughs.

You watch him stand by the doorway, staring at the vibrant mess of a crime scene. He pops the tip of his cigarette in his mouth before slipping from your line of sight. Dabi’s got the key to the door, so it’s not like you can run away—especially with Keigo just outside. It’s too risky to try and you know it, but it does cross your mind.

Summing up the courage, you decide to follow Dabi with measured steps, “What are you going to do with Toga?”

When you face the kitchen, Dabi’s near the table where you threw your coat. He has a hand in one of your pockets, and he’s fishing for something inside. It jingles in his grip as he stuffs it into his own pocket. Your car keys.

“Are you going to kill her?” you try again, a little irked he’s swiping your things left and right. He doesn’t release your coat either, laying it over the crook of his elbow.

He draws a final inhale from the dying bud, and crosses to the sink to snuff it out. An exhale of smoke blows out from his lips, “Killing her seems like a favor, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

He turns, flicking teal eyes sheening with energy at you, “That lunatic’s no longer your concern. Right now, you ought to be more worried about yourself.”

Your features go taut, which in turn makes Dabi’s sadistic smirk return.

“I didn’t help her kill him.”

“No,” he agrees, taking a few strides around the blood to approach you,“but you were willing to stash the stiff.”

“Yeah, for this very reason. I didn’t want you coming after me!”

Dabi draws dangerously close, mere inches apart as he glances down with lidded eyes, the smell of tobacco perfumes from his shirt collar nestled under a violet tie. He crooks his index finger, embellished with a silver ring, ghosting it under your chin. “How’d that turn out for you, babydoll?”

With a ruthless smile, he breaks the fixed stare and rounds you to the hallway. He seems to be making his way towards the parlor again, but the swish of your peacoat in his arm, set you off.

How dare he? You don’t like how he’s walked inside, claiming what’s yours. You might have your life screwed over, but at the very least you want your coat back as some semblance of control.

You stalk after him, picking up pace to aim for his arm. The clacks of your heels are loud, but you currently couldn’t care less about being sneaky, “Give it fucking back. You’re not keeping that!”

You lunge for the black wool, but as your fingers brush the material on his left elbow, Dabi whips the coat, rotating arms. You’re not fast enough, but you try a second reach for his right arm, huffing out a growl at his stealthy reflexes.

“Dabi, I’m serious! You’re such a—”

In a twirling motion his newly free palm shoves at your shoulder, pinning you against the stairwell’s wall. He’s close, so close, the blue flames in his eyes are absurdly intense.

“That makes two of us. You’ll get this back when I say so.”

His voice is low, soft lips almost connecting to yours. You tilt your chin up, glaring at him with fearful, tentative eyes. His gaze flashes with mirth, and he huffs a small laugh at you.

“I’ve always liked this about you. That spark inside you.” He muses. The peacoat spills to the floor. Dabi lifts his slender fingers, pushing back a loose curl from your cheek.

Your stomach flips, as shocks tickle your skin. There’s been subtle flirting between you two before. You just wrote it off as overthinking the moment. Even though he only called you, babydoll, and he sat next to you at gatherings. How he filled your glass with water instead of booze as the nights waned. Now, you feel foolish for denying the little signs.

“You have a horrible way of showing girls you like ‘em,” you counter back, your voice’s quiet but leveled.

“Yeah?” he asks. The arm holding your shoulder tightens, while the other lowers to collect your long skirt. He traces his knuckles on the soft flesh of your thigh. As his hand trails up, his eyes remain fixed on your facial features. “Maybe this will help.”

His slim fingers reach the cotton slip, and it’s easy to pull off to the side, exposing the lips of your warmth. He tests the waters, sweeping the tips of his fingers across your folds. Your mouth parts in a breathless hitch in your throat. Dabi parts his own lips drawing near, ‘til his lips touch yours but not quite pressing together yet. His pierced nose bumps yours.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts, just before sinking two fingers between your folds, pumping deep and slow inside. “You’ll go upstairs and pack what you need. When you come down—”

He thrusts particularly hard into you, sending a gasping moan to fall from your open mouth. His voice remains calm, a hint of glee can be detected. Fucking bastard.

“—You’ll be leaving with me. You’ll work for me...Live with me…And you’ll do everything I say. You got it, babydoll?”

He adds a third finger, soaking his knuckles deep with your slick. He’s hitting the right spots, the perfectly deep pressure. Your attention turns hazy as wakes of pleasure tighten just below your stomach. Your hips buck against his thrusting hand, yet still, you manage to nod your head.

Moans flutter from your lips and vibrate onto his smiling one. To heighten the pleasure he begins swirling your wet clit. “Ah, Dabi...Oh god, Dabi—”

He slows his fingers suddenly, which makes you cry out. He pretends to ignore it. “If you try to escape me...I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways that will marr that pretty skin of yours. I’ll make you scream so loud, and no one will be there to save you. Tell me you understand.”

He curls his knuckles, pressing into a rough spot at the top, pumping fiercely against your slippery, muscular walls. You cry out, squeezing at his shirt collar and coat. “Fuck—I understand, I understand! Baby, right there, ah!”

Dabi gives you no mercy. He tugs and twirls the bud of sensitive nerves, swirling with driven circles that clench your walls in wonderous pressure. You’re close, he’s so close to sending you in high bliss. Your moans get heavier, and your clenching more and more and—

He removes his fingers. Another cry of protest sobs from your mouth only to be swallowed by Dabi’s lips on yours. His tongue massages the moans from your breath, his scent of cigarettes and smoke immerse your senses as you drown in the kiss.

He slowly breaks apart with a wet sound, looking deeply in your lust-glossed eyes. His voice is low and arousingly husky. “Now get your things.”

Before you know it, Dabi pulls away from your shoulders, and turns for the parlor. You try catching your breath, watching his slim, muscular back...Did that happen? Did he rob you of everything? Your home, your life, your orgasm?

Eventually, with light steps you do as you’re told, and turn to climb up the stairs. What choice do you have? He has your life in the palm of his hand. And right before you make it to the top, your hand drawn on the railing, the spinning clicks of your house phone perk your ear.

A long pause. Then finally, Dabi’s rich voice speaks up from the parlor,

“Hey, I’ll be needing a few guys at Togas...Yeah, we found him….Toga did him in pretty good...No, we’ll need the good bleach for cleanup.”

***

P.S, this might be a mini series 👀

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #dabi #touya todoroki #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfics #mafia!dabi #tw blackmail #tw blood #keigo takami #bnha x reader #the smut pile #tw dubcon #shadow tales

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twistnet · 4 years ago

Text

nsfw alphabet [ chibs telford ]

WARNINGS ─ gn!reader, smut [ oral sex, cum, kinks, masturbation ]

DISCLAIMER ─ if you are under the age of 18, do not read [ nsfw content under cut ]

a = aftercare [ what they’re like after sex ]

is one to light a cigarette the minute the act is done, patiently waiting you come down from your high and maybe, gain some feeling back in your legs again. his hands is coaxing you to even your breathing as he pulls you to rest against his chest

once he’s stamped out his cigarette, he’s pulling on a pair of briefs and walking to the washroom to get you cleaned up. if a bath and a change of sheets is needed, he’ll get that together for you and get the bedroom all squared away until you’re ready to join him once again

b = body part [ their favorite body part of theirs, and also their partner’s ]

his gentleman side would say that his favorite body part on his partner is their mind and tongue. nothing sexual about it, but he loves to hear you speak your mind, take control of the area you are in and take no shit from anyone

now, his more non-gentlemen side would say he’s a sucker for chests [ boobies or not ]. he loves laying his head there and listening to your heartbeat but also loves pressing his face right into your sternum. getting to bit and lick and mark every inch of the skin

on himself, he would say his hands. years of garage work, motorcycles, and other things have roughed them up quite a bit and he gets a small spark of joy when he gets to run his clast finger tips down any part of your exposed skin

c = cum [ anything to do with cum basically…i’m a disgusting person ]

going back to the above, on your chest. getting to paint you with his cum gets him hard all over again, and is not embarrassed to groan at the sight. oh, but you happen to swipe up some of the cum on your finger and pop it in your mouth? you might have just killed him

on the flip side, he does like cumming inside you, but likes to ask before doing so. but if given permission, loves watching it drip out of your hole. and might push some of it back in with a loving smile

d = dirty secret [ pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs ]

playing the game that you don’t know each other at a club party, and him taking you to his dorm for a little fun time. has never said anything, but has thought about it often

e = experience [ how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing? ]

with a previous wife and plenty of croweaters that he’s had his way with in the past, there is no denying this man has gotten around. he might try the first time to use what he’s used on croweaters before, but quickly finds that you might tick a different way and has to relearn basically everything. but don’t worry, he’ll make sure to get plenty of practice in

f = favorite position [ this goes without saying ]

missionary. standard & reverse cowgirl. doggy-style. spooning.

g = goofy [ are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc ]

while he tends to be serious most of the time, he finds that if he can’t laugh something off like you getting a cramp midway through, or he fumbles while trying to get into a position, then the relationship won’t last

h = hair [ how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc ]

has truly given up on keeping groomed. use to in younger years make everything nice and clean, but has since stopped as he just doesn't want to do it anymore and regrowth is a bitch. now, he does trim so it doesn’t get too long

i = intimacy [ how are they during the moment, romantic aspect… ]

very affectionate in a private setting. pulls you in close and loves to just be able to touch you and have you surround him in anyway possible. whispering sweets words in gaelic, holding your face in his hands. that kind of thing

j = jack off [ masturbation headcanon ]

never really used his hand to get himself off, as there was always a croweater nearby to help him out and be his companion for the night. since he has started a relationship with you, he might do it more to keep himself faithful while on runs. he doesn’t do anything with the croweaters on runs, even though it’s always been something the married men have always done, he’s not one to partake

k = kink [ one or more of their kinks ]

tit-fucking ─ going back to his fascinations with chests, having the ability to run his cock against your sternum turns him on so fucking much. sometimes, he’ll do in unprompted, but sometimes, you pat your chest and he’ll quickly get into position

stockings ─ any color, any detail is fine with him. they look so pretty against your skin and are so soft. will literally buy you one in ever color. they stay on while everything else comes off.

l = location [ favorite places to do the do ]

his/ your home or in his dorm at the clubhouse. both are safe places for him and there is less room for interruptions and he can focus he’s sole attention on you

m = motivation [ what turns them on, gets them going ]

a strong confidence paired with a mouth that has no problem telling someone off or letting people know what you think. you sitting or riding with him on his bike -- also wearing his helmet. kicking ass against some of his brothers -- winning a drinking game, a round of pool, or darts. jeans that seem to hug all of your curves. leather attire of any kind. you speaking gaelic

n = no [ something they wouldn’t do, turn offs ]

sharing you with someone ─ he’s seen some of his brother indulge in something like this and has always felt funny about it. plus, the man has a major jealous streak when prompted and that just doesn’t mix well

degradation & abuse ─ this was after having seen it during one of the porn shoots and he had to step away, not truly understanding how someone could do that to another human in a vulnerable situation

o = oral [ preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc ]

oral for him is split 50/50. in his eyes, it’s only fair if you suck him off that he return the favor.

receiving ─ he’s coaching you through it, even if you know how to do it. he loves talking to you, lightly pulling your hair away from your face or affectionately caressing your cheek or jaw. he lets you do what you want, and isn’t going to dictate what you can and cannot do. as this is just as much for him as it is for you

giving ─ okay, so maybe i lied about the 50/50 split. to a degree. once this man gets to return the favor, it’s hard to pull him away after the first orgasm. he will continue to build you up for another one and won’t come up for breath until you’ve cum at least three times

p = pace [ are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc. ]

depends on the mood and can range from a rough fucking or soft lovemaking.

he isn’t fast per say, most of his thrusts are quite calculated in the sense that he knows what spots make you weak at the knees or make your spine tingle. so, while the thrusts are powerful, there is no speed to them as he doesn’t want you to come undone too quickly

soft lovemaking on the other hand is just like the above, but the power behind the thrusts is toned down. it’s still there, but it’s not as rough. he takes his time, either letting you ride him or spooning you. this pace happens to get you to completion much later, but it is so worth it

q = quickie [ their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc. ]

yes, yes, and yes. quickies are frequented quite heavily in your relationship, as sometimes, that is the only way the two of you can blow of some steam. a quickie will happen before runs or when you sneak off during parties to hurry back like you weren’t gone for 20 minutes

but don’t get it confused, this man would always rather have a nice, quiet session with you over a quickie any day.

r = risk [ are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc. ]

isn’t one to take risks without thinking through or talking about them first. sure, he likes that you are open enough to come and talk to him about what you would like to do in the bedroom, but would like to make sure that everyone is on the same page

s = stamina [ how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last… ]

two rounds max. and that goes for whatever mood and pace the two of you happen to be in. chibs doesn’t want to overexert himself or you, as sometimes just one session is enough to knock you out for the evening.

now, this isn’t going to impact the amount of orgasms he’s going to pull from you over the course of the night. no one ever asked how long the sessions were going to last, just how many you are able to do

t = toy [ do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves? ]

was never one to use toys on partners, and had never thought for himself.

if you own toys for personal use and would like to incorporate them into the bedroom, he has no problem using them to aid in getting you off. however, he will draw the line at using them for himself, as it’s not really his thing

u = unfair [ how much do they like to tease ]

teasing is his specialty, but this man makes timed and deliberate strikes that will have to melting in his hand within a few hours. but don’t let it fool you, as he can wait for as long as he needs and he definitely isn’t going to be the one to crack

so, if you want to push through your conversation with your friends and pretend he hasn’t been feeling you up this past hour, you go ahead. you’ll break eventually

v = volume [ how loud they are, what sound they make ]

no very loud would in comes to moans of pleasure, as they are usually quite muffled to some degree -- as he’s either muffling them into your skin as he presses kisses or is doing it more so under his breath

on the flip side, he isn’t quite when speaking to you. the amount of filth and sin that leaves his mouth as he slides into you over and over again is almost too much to handle. especially when it’s paired with his thick accent, that also, seemingly gets deeper the more settles into you

w = wild card [ get a random headcanon for the character of your choice ]

roleplay, specifically one where he can use the premise of him being a biker and you either taking on an authority figure or someone who’s seen in a more innocence light. bringing his kutte into the mix, or his bike is super appealing to him and anything the two of you can do with that is okay in his book

x = x-ray [ let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words ]

six inches. thick and slightly veiny from bottom to tip. curves slightly when erect.

y = yearning [ how high is their sex drive? ]

despite his age, he has a medium to high sex drive. this all depends on what is currently going on and how he’s feeling.

his sex drive is medium when he’s doing day to day things. being ready as almost a drop of a hat if you are wanting to initiate something with him during some down time or at a club party. it might take just a little convincing, however, you seem to have him wrapped around your finger and he has a hard time resisting you.

his sex drive is high when he’s very frustrated -- i.e. with happenings involving the club, or when he’s been while on a run for some time. however, he is a patient man and isn’t one to pull you away mid conversation with someone just to throw you into the bed and have his way with you. he will let you come to him and from there, will go as many rounds as the two of you will allow

z = zzz [ how quickly they fall asleep afterward ]

as his finishes off his cigarette, and the post-orgasm high has settled, he pulls you in close. letting you rest against his chest as finger tips run along your spine with practiced ease. it’s his way of showing you a small hint of affection without doing too much if that’s not what you are in the mood for

at this moment, he is fully relaxed and slowly starts to draft off. there is really no telling if he falls asleep first, or if you do, but he’ll fall asleep if he wants to. but not without making sure you are well taken care of before doing so

#soa #soa fx #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fx #soa x reader #soa imagine #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #chibs telford #chibs telford imagine #chibs telford x reader #n*fw alphabet #all genders welcome #twistnet #twistnet works 2021

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dourpeep · 4 years ago

Note

OKAY time for a college au!!

You 3 know each other from before college

You and kazuha were seating next to each other during your first year of high school you became close enough to greet each other whenever you guys pass by each other

And you and Xiao were best friends from kindergarten to 2 grade but unfortunately you had to move suddenly you two tried to keep contact but the two of you made new friends and kinda lost contact with each other

So when you go to college you meet kazuha at the front desk when you're trying to get your schedule and yall are like "omg I'm so happy to see someone that I know here!" and when you guys check your schedules it turns out that the two of you have the same class during the first period

And you're like "we've got 30 minutes wanna go grab a cup of coffee and get lost together?" and kazu knows that you playfully flirt with your friends so he jokingly says "are you asking me out for a date? Because if you are then I accept!" and you guys talk on the way to class and the two of you barely make it on time

Class ends and you're sad to say goodbye to the only person you know on campus but then all of a sudden he hits you with a "by the way can I have your number?" so you two exchange numbers

Later you're going to your last class and it turns out that this class doesn't have many people you go sit in the back and someone comes up to you and is like "can I sit next to you? " you say yes obviously

But the thing is... there is something very familiar about this guy and you just can't put your finger on it so you kind of stare at him without realizing it

Of course he noticed how hard you've been staring at him and turns around and is like "what? Is there something on my face?" that's when it finally clicks

And you're just like "XIAO??! IS THAT REALLY YOU?!!" but the teacher comes in so you two can't really talk

But the moment class ends you tell him who you are and take a few minutes to catch up

Though I say catch up it was mostly you teasing him saying shit like "I can't believe the shy kid who used to tear up whenever his turn on the swing was taken would grow up to be this handsome!" (he's starting to think that maybe he should have sat somewhere else)

So you're like "hey how we go actually catch up I've got some coupons for this café I went to this morning with a friend"

He doesn't have a reason to say no so he just accepts the invitation

When you guys get there who do you meet? KAZUHA! This man actually works there!

When you see him you're like "kazuha why didn't you tell me that you work here?" but he pretends not to know you and is like "oh? Well who might this fine customer be?" you can tell he's joking by the way he's trying not to laugh so you decide to play along

Poor Xiao is starting to regret coming with you (but don't worry he got 2 plates of almond tofu as an apology)

-no primogems (I'll make another part later where you 3 become roommates)

YES I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS-

dhfaeiahe I realize now that I should've just posted this as is since I wasn't planning on adding to this but might as well add in some thoughts I've had about this lovely trio eh??? tbh I didn't add much I just slipped in a few little things hehe

Can you guess the roomates?? Also the bio professor is Albedo ehe

Anyway!!

Considering it's the first semester of college, you haven't yet decided on your major. Luckily, you have quite a few general education classes to take, so you register all in one night.

You'll have the time to figure it all out as time goes by, no?

The rest of summer is spent juggling moving into the campus' dorms, working, and keeping up with some friends from high school. While you've kept contact with a few friends, you definitely kicked yourself in the ass for forgetting to ask Kazuha for his number...how could you forget one of your best friends?

But, you suppose that he's far off in a whole other city with his wish to experience more. You can't help but wonder what he's up to.

Then, the first day of classes starts.

How did you not figure out where everything is first? Instead of moping, you trudge to the administrative building early to ask for directions and, even better, a map of the large campus.

Instead, you find a familiar head of cream-colored hair.

Immediately, you gasp and he turns around in confusion, only for a soft smile to spread over his features. It's only been a summer but it's a relief to see that you know another person. Comparing schedules, he points out that you both have Communications 1301 together.

For once, you're glad you have to take these mandatory courses...

But with an abundance of time (as Kazuha just so happens to know where the class is), he accepts your jokingly firtatious proposal to head to the cafe just across campus to grab a morning drink.

It's hardly been long since you've last spoken to him, but there's still so much to talk about! It turns out he opted to rent out a small studio apartment just a few blocks away from campus! Naturally, he invites you over sometime.

He's also admitted that he decided to major in English--something you're not surprised to hear. After all, Kazuha's a natural at the subject, exceeding the assignments and always so eloquent.

If you recall correctly, he used to tote around a little notebook full of little musings and poetry during high school. You wonder if he still does that.

You talk about how you've just moved into the dorms a week ago, how you're lucky to be rooming with two musically inclined (if not a bit rowdy) people. You're sure that he'd take a liking to them once everything is calmed down a bit. Kazuha just raises a brow in half-doubt.

Before you know it, it's been an hours and, to your horror, your first class starts in five minutes. Not to mention that it was back closer to the admin building and you were on the opposite side of campus.

But it's still fun, Kazuha laughing as you jolt up and tug him to stand, the two of you running to get to class on time. With heaving breaths and flushed faces, you make it just a few minutes late. Luckily, your professor didn't mind because it was the first day...

Following class, you have to make your way to Bio 1301, Kazuha having a major-specific English course to get to. Before you can speak, though, he offers his phone to you. It's newer than his old flip phone you'd tease him about all the time, the screen clean save for a few stray fingerprints.

After you put in your number, he beams and quickly sends you a call so you can have his too.

"Call me after you're done with classes, alright?"

You promise to and the two of you set off.

Biology proves to be uneventful, a full hour and a half of the (rather attractive) professor going over what to expect as well as passing out lab waiver forms. A necessary precaution, he said with a reserved sigh. You wonder what happened.

When the hour ends, you have some time before World History, followed by a Trigonometry course.

By the time you find your trig class, most of the seats are already taken, making that feeling of dread fill the pit of your stomach. Nothing is worse than being forced to take whatever seat is left. But, noticing a seat by the windows, it's not so bad.

You're in the back, though, settling your bag beneath your chair and picking out a pen and schedule book.

At some point, someone walks in and asks if the seat in front of you is taken. You don't bother to look up long as you fish out a notebook, letting him know it's free.

As class goes on, you realize that the guy in front of you most likely hasn't been paying attention. Considering that the professor has been rehashing stuff from Algebra...you're not surprised. But something about his dark hair catches your eye. Not to mention his striking gold eyes...hm.

It's not until you catch his profile as he stares out the window that it clicks.

"Xiao."

His eyes dart to look at you, a confused look washing over his face. You repeat his name.

"Yes?"

Part of him is just about ready to leave as recognition floods your expression, smile wide. How could you possibly---

"I can't believe the shy kid who used to tear up whenever his turn on the swing was taken would grow up to be this handsome!"

The tips of his ears turn red fast, something that you remember very well about him, and his gaze quickly flicks over to the professor still dragging on. When gold settles back on you, they're practically begging for you to lower your voice.

"It's been forever--I can't believe that you-"

"If you're going to talk, do it outside of class."

Ah. Oopsie.

Time seems to drag on while you buzz in your seat, excited to see your childhood friend after loosing contact. You've missed him over the years, always wondering what happened to him, how he's been. And finally, when class ends, he gets up and waits for you.

Naturally, you want to catch up, so you invite him to go to the cafe with you for a late lunch.

"You still like almond tofu right? It's all you used to eat when we were little." Laughing, you nudge his shoulder and the color returns to his cheeks as he mumbles a yes.

When you step into the cafe, a familiar voice greets you.

"If I knew a cute customer would be coming, I would've gone on break."

Kazuha leans on the counter, mirth in his eyes and you gasp. It makes sense now, why he's so well acquainted with the campus and why he'd already known what to order when you arrived for drinks-

"What can I get for you today?"

"Your number."

Xiao's face pales at the blatant flirting, wondering if he should've just declined the invitation to the cafe until the two of you burst into laughter. Though, it's hardly better.

"Sorry, sorry- This is Kazuha, one of my friends from high school. Kazuha, this is my childhood best friend Xiao."

With a day so filled with nice coincidences, you doubt that life can get any better than this.

Oh, how wrong you'd be.

#anon asks #no primogems anon #kazuha x xiao x reader #xiao and his two lovely dumb s/o's #college au #polycule #polyamory #meet cute #xiao #kazuha #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact fics #genshin impact

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tippedbykreider · 3 years ago

Text

it’s all coming back to me | c. kreider (i)

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: Slow burn, exes to friends to lovers, relationship breakdown, swearing, alcohol mention. Author’s Note: So many of you have been requesting for this to be brought back! The consensus was that you’d rather have it in smaller chunks so I’ll be posting each new part weekly and they’ll come in between 6 & 9k per chapter. Not only is it more manageable for you guys but it also gives me chance to keep writing new content for it 💖 There is a playlist for this fic which I posted separately, it gives a chronological feel for their relationship and their story. This has been a tonne of fun to write so far and I can’t wait to tell the rest of their story. Summary: Chris Kreider x Reader Insert. They say that all good things come to an end, that you can never have too much of a good thing, but when Chris decided to end your relationship you wondered how anything could ever be good again. A chance meeting 9 years later drags up all those feelings you both thought you were done with. Can you work through your hurt and pain to see what it is that Chris is trying to show you? Or are some things better left forgotten? Tagging: @danglesnipecelly - this girl deserves a writing credit on this thing because she’s pushed me to keep going with this and her input and advice has been invaluable. Thank you for all the support on this one, K 💖

*Italics indicates a flashback*

The notion of fresh starts is often something that is associated with the arrival of the New Year. People use the turning of the calendar to turn over a new leaf, to learn a new skill, to challenge themselves to be better than the year before and to let go of all that was and focus on all that will be. There’s something inherently magical about a new beginning, a fresh start; sometimes it’s the excitement of what might lie ahead and other times it’s the comfort in knowing that you can seize the opportunity be whoever you want to be and to reinvent yourself. It’s the line in the sand and the final full stop at the end of the chapter and it’s the anticipation of picking up the pen and writing those first few words on the new page.

For Chris Kreider this feeling wasn’t one that was brought about by the strike of the clock at midnight on New Year’s Eve because while the date on the calendar changed and while he still spent the next couple of weeks dating things with the wrong year just like everybody else, it still often felt like nothing really changed for him. Chris could only feel like the year was truly coming to an end when the first petals of spring exploded like fireworks in a symphony of technicolour blooms and he found himself giving the locker-room clearout interview. That was the end of the year, the full stop, the line and the warmer days and the balmy nights would give him the opportunity to decompress ready for the turning of the page come September when his focus would once again turn back to hockey.

Chris loved New York; that much was undeniably true. He loved the vibrancy of the city but he also loved the way that he could melt into the background or enjoy the feeling of quiet solace his apartment gave him. It was oftentimes a bolthole, an oasis of peace during an otherwise hectic few months between September and May but the end of the hockey season and the arrival of summer had him seeking the cry of gulls on the breath of a gentle breeze and that crisp, purifying sea air that always managed to fill his lungs differently. Rowayton wasn’t far, a little over an hour on a good day but with its coastal Connecticut charm, slower pace and pretty houses, especially the ones that overlooked the water, it was a world away from NYC and exactly what Chris needed to reset and recharge.

It was a Saturday morning in mid-July and for the first time in a long time, longer than Chris could recall, he allowed himself to sleep in. His bedroom window had been open all night and the welcome breeze snaked through the slats in the blinds and carried on it the faintest smell of salt and sunshine. Chris stretched his muscles in big pulls around the bed before he settled on his back and inhaled deeply, the fresh air clearing his mind and filling his body as the last remnants of sleep slipped away on the exhale of breath. Imbued with energy, he climbed out of bed and pulled the blinds all the way up, flooding the bedroom with beautiful incandescence born out of a cloudless sky. He didn’t make his bed though, not yet, because while he had left his room and was padding down the stairs, he had every intention of returning to the still warm sheets to read a chapter or two of the book on his nightstand with a fresh cup of coffee, a cinnamon and raisin bagel, that invigorating coastal air and the oceanscape outside as the soundtrack.

One chapter turned into two and two became three and before Chris knew it, the sun was high in the sky and lunchtime beckoned. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day in Rowayton and Chris thought it would be a crying shame to spend his time at home, even if the page-turner he’d held in his hands moments ago seemed incredibly appealing out on the back deck overlooking the water. It was then he decided to take advantage of that gorgeous sunshine, take in the scenery and stretch his legs by going for a walk into town to pick up a few essentials at Rowayton Market. For all it was a small, it contained everything he would need to keep him going for a few more days until he’d finally need to drive into Norwalk to do a more substantial grocery shop, something that he’d admittedly been putting off. The Market also had some of the best baked goods and fresh coffee in the village and if you asked Chris it would be pretty rude to not take advantage – it was right there, after all, and Chris never could say no to a still-warm Danish and Americano.

He walked slower than he usually would, a conscious effort on his part due to the fact that his legs seemed to want to go into an auto-pilot primed for life in New York City. He was in no rush though, he never was whenever he came here and even though it was a route he’d walked hundreds of times before, and one he would walk hundreds more, Chris still wanted to soak in all the pretty trees and shrubs that were nestled in amongst those classical New England style homes, all shingled exteriors and white, gridded windows in soft muted colours that mirrored the coastal landscape of the village. It was a world away from the brick and the concrete and the bright lights of the city and while Chris loved all of those things about New York and loved wandering through the streets of Tribeca and Soho, getting lost in bookstores and hole-in-the-wall cafes, he also loved the sand, shale and stars and those were things that he just couldn’t find in the city that never slept.

There were quite a few people out and about, Chris noted, most of them he recognised as being residents with their friendly smiles and waved greetings, but there were a handful of tourists too; there always was on weekends during the summer. Not that Chris minded, of course, because for all the village was a popular escape for those seeking a break from the metropolitan life of the nearby hub of cities, it never succumbed to the all-too-often inevitability of commercialisation and still managed to hold on to its peaceful charm, despite it not quite being the quaint fishing village it once was back in the days before the Civil War.

It was one of the reasons why Chris found himself retreating here in the summer and not making the trip back home to spend the off-season in Massachusetts. He would go back to Boxford for a couple of weeks, naturally, because family was something that had always been important to Chris and he would never miss an opportunity to spend time with his parents and sister, but if he had the choice between spending his entire summer being bitten to death by mosquitoes back home (his father always did say that they were the town bird, after all) or feeling the gentle kiss of the ocean breeze against his skin, there was no real contest. Rowayton would always win.

The main street through town was busier, which wasn’t exactly unexpected and if anything it only seemed to add to the charm of the village. Chris decided to head straight to the market to pick up his groceries, if only to facilitate the Danish eating in a more timely-fashion. He picked up a basket as he entered and proceeded to add only the essentials he’d need to get him through the next couple of days. He’d pay for his shopping before going to the coffee bar, because trying to pack his reusable grocery bag with a full takeout cup was a mistake he’d made once before and was sure to never repeat again.

With his groceries purchased and bags packed in such a way that the couple of bottles of wine he’d picked up wouldn’t clink together when he walked (it was three to be exact but after seeing the selection of cured meats, cheeses and olives available he thought it’d be a crime if they didn’t find their way into his basket to come home with him, and if there was cheese there had to be wine), Chris made his way to the coffee counter situated near the Market entrance.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken a trip away without the company of anyone else but the last couple of months at work had been incredibly stressful, with projects seemingly coming out of your ears and while you knew your mother had been worried by your suggestion of taking off somewhere alone for the weekend, she also knew better than to fight you on something you’d quite clearly already set your mind to. If you were being completely honest, your plans for the first full weekend you’d had off in months would have consisted of not setting foot outside of your apartment or engaging in any kind of unnecessary conversation had you decided to stay home in Hartford, at least this way you’d be getting some fresh air and the sun on your face.

It was just shy of a two hour drive down to Rowayton, which had the dual benefit of being close enough to home that it didn’t feel like a huge trek just to get there, but also being far enough away that you would be a complete stranger in this town and could take the time to decompress and recharge while blending into the background, and the place was pretty to boot. You’d found a little studio Airbnb not too far away in South Norwalk, figuring that you’d only be using it as somewhere to sleep as you’d planned on spending as much of your time as possible being right by that ocean with the wind in your hair and the warm sun on your skin.

That’s how you’d planned on spending your Saturday afternoon, sat on the sand of Bayley Beach with a good book and a cup of coffee. It was set to be a balmy day, with temperatures sitting in the mid-eighties and the last thing you wanted to be doing in the heat was any amount of excessive walking. So with that in mind, you’d spent your morning exploring the village and taking in the sights and sounds. The gentle protest of your stomach told you it was lunchtime before you’d even taken the opportunity to glance down at your watch and a quick Google search pointed you in the direction of somewhere to get that all important cup of coffee and a small bite to eat.

Rowayton Market didn’t look like much from the outside in the sense that it was a little on the petite side, but the reviews were great and the coffee was allegedly some of the best in the village and that was good enough for you. You were greeted with the smell of freshly baked goods and ground coffee, which was welcoming enough before you even saw the bright smile of the girl behind the counter. Your eyes drifted over the selection of pastries, each one more delicious looking than the last and you knew that you were going to have a hard time choosing just one. You knew you’d have to make a decision, though, suddenly aware of the small line that had seemingly materialised right out of thin air behind you and while you were sure that these people were more accustomed to a slower pace of life, the city girl in you, who was so used to living life in the fast lane, didn’t want to keep these good people waiting while you deliberated. You’d go with your usual and that would be that.

Chris’s attention was fixed out of the large glass windows at the front of the shop, watching as people milled in the street and went about their daily business. It was something he quite often did, whether he was here or back home in New York. There was something oddly soothing about watching the world go by, he thought, and occasionally he’d catch something that would quirk his lips up into a smile, like the sight before him now of a rather large gull in the process of committing larceny against what he could only assume was an unsuspecting tourist. Their sandwich was held high above their head while their free hand attempted to shoo the bird away with little success. He chuckled quietly to himself then, not least because the gulls seemed to get more brazen with each year that passed and he was sure that one of these days he’d see someone’s lunch get snatched right out of their hand by the feathered menaces.

Chris had no reason at all to believe as he stood in that line that everything was about to change. Why would he? The day had started like any other. He’d picked up his groceries in this store more times than he could count, he’d waited in a line just like this one for his coffee and Danish and yet, in that moment, something as innocuous as a woman’s voice would bring feelings that he thought he was done with, and memories he thought had strayed out of his mind for good, flooding back to the surface. But it wasn’t just any woman’s voice, no, it wasn’t as detached and neutral as that. It was your voice; a voice he hadn’t heard in nine years and it was something as simple as a coffee order, an order that he now knew to have remained the same since the day you’d first met at Boston College all those years ago, that blew the dam wide open and every word the two of you had ever spoken, from day one to the last thing you ever said to him, came rushing back.

The sound of Chris’s voice calling your name was something you never thought you’d hear out loud again. It was a voice you’d only heard in your dreams for many years after he walked out of your life, but even that had faded beyond memory to where you weren’t a hundred percent certain that you’d be able to remember what it sounded like anymore. And yet, in the middle of a tiny supermarket in Rowayton, you heard him clear as day with his tongue rolling around the syllables of your name with the same fondness, even after all this time and it was like you’d never forgotten the sound at all.

Autumn was beginning to make her presence felt in Boston. The palette on campus had shifted from a spectrum of vivid greens to shades of deep russet, amber, ochre and vermillion; but even above the changing leaves, the turning of the calendar brought a slight chill to the air that had you reaching for your jacket on a morning as you left your dorm.

Today was no different. The temperature had dropped again overnight as November creeped ever closer and it was chilly enough that you had to draw your coat tighter around you as you walked across campus towards class. Your brisk pace had bought you enough time to make a stop at the coffee stand just outside of Campion where your first class of the day was being held. There was a decent selection on offer, but it wasn’t enough to sway you from ordering your usual.

You rooted around your backpack for your wallet while the barista prepared your coffee and grabbed you your cinnamon roll, unaware of the new presence to your right, before handing over the money and taking the coffee and pastry bag from the young man’s hands.

“Coffee and cinnamon roll, eh? Now that’s the breakfast of champions.”

You turned your head towards the source of the voice, lips quirking into a small smile at the sight of the stranger beside you who looked to be not much older than you were, incredibly tall and broad for his apparent age but not for his height. He was grinning at you with a fullness that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and gave him a unique kind of softness.

“My mom would disagree,” you replied with a smirk. “If she found out I was having this for breakfast she’d be in her car so fast and dragging my ass back to Hartford.”

He laughed at that, loud and bright with his head tipped back slightly before running a hand through his dark brown hair that was shorter on the sides but had the faintest hint of a curl at the longer strands on top.

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not telling her,” you grinned as you swung your backpack over one shoulder. “So looks like you’re sworn to secrecy.”

You studied him for a brief moment, with the way he was still grinning at you and his eyes that seemed to sparkle behind his dark lashes before your brain gently reminded you that you, in fact, had somewhere you needed to be. “Well, I hate to impose a vow of silence on you like some sort of mafia boss and then immediately split but I uh I gotta head to class.”

“No problem at all and hey, your secret is safe with me. In fact, I’ve forgotten already. What were we talking about?”

There it was again, that smile of his that made you want to stay rooted right where you were standing and look at it all day, but class beckoned and so you gave an awkward wave of your hand and a soft laugh before you turned and headed into the building behind you without another glance back. If you had you’d have seen the stranger from the coffee stand watch until you’d disappeared from view, with that smile still on his face.

This little routine of yours would continue over the course of the next few weeks. Every Tuesday morning, at around 8:45am, you’d find yourself stood at that coffee stand outside of Campion to get your coffee and cinnamon roll, and every Tuesday morning, at around 8:46am, the tall stranger would appear beside you with his kind eyes and his bright smile. You’d exchange a ‘hello’ and a friendly grin and you’d laugh more often than not too while you made pleasant small talk before you both said your goodbyes and went to your respective classes, though you would always leave first and he would watch you go until you’d disappeared into the building.

It was mid-November, now, and the campus of Boston College was firmly in autumn’s frigid grasp. The temperatures continued to drop, seemingly overnight, which had you bundled up in your hat and scarf and the trees had shed their branches of leaves, crunching underfoot with the slight frost as you made your way towards Campion. Your hands were shoved deep into your coat pockets to ward off the gnawing chill and you were looking forward to being able to warm them around your coffee cup.

You approached the stand as normal, rooting through your backpack for your wallet ready to order.

“Hey!”

You looked up, your features fixed in a state of mild confusion while you looked for the source of the voice you recognised but couldn’t quite place. It was then you saw him though, all bright eyed and bushy tailed with a medium coffee and pastry bag held up in one of his large hands as if on display. He was grinning at you and cocked his head, beckoning you over with the wordless gesture.

“Hey, yourself,” you smiled as you approached. “What’s this then?” You tilted your head slightly at the items in his hand as he offered them to you.

“Breakfast of champions.”

Your eyebrow quirked as you took the coffee from him before taking a tentative sip, smiling while the warm liquid slid down your throat.

“You got my coffee order right.”

“It wasn’t hard,” he smirked. “You order the same thing every week and if you open that little paper bag I think you’ll find a cinnamon roll in there.”

Sure enough, as you opened the bag you were greeted with the sight of a perfectly formed cinnamon roll and you couldn’t help the grin that sparked at your lips and spread the full width of your face.

“I don’t order the same thing every week.”

“You do,” he replied with a laugh. “Every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks you’ve come to this coffee stand and ordered a medium Americano with half and half and a cinnamon roll and every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks I’ve been meaning to ask you your name.”

Your face flushed warm at that, not only at his words but at the sure little smile he was giving you and the way his eyes were sparkling. In fact, now that you were really looking at him properly, you were knocked back a bit by the perpetual kindness that seemed to rest in them and you couldn’t help but notice how they really were the perfect shade of hazel, like a forest with a deep bark heart surrounded by leaves that were every shade of green. You’d been quiet a little too long though and so you took a settling sip of coffee to give you enough time to find your voice again and tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled as he offered you his hand, which was large and warm as you shook it.

“And who should I thank for the coffee?” you asked.

His smile grew into a grin then, the kind that you’d noticed over the course of the last few weeks that made his eyes crinkle and happiness radiate from him, before simply replying:

“Chris.”

“Chris?”

It was as if time had stood still in that little Market in Rowayton, where your surroundings become a still-frame and there’s nothing but static in your ears. You’d often thought about what it would have been like to see him again. Those first couple of years after he’d left Boston College had you imagining all kinds of scenarios, much like the one you were in right now where you’d bump into each other in a supermarket or a pharmacy, anywhere really, but now that you were living it, seeing it, breathing it, there was nothing you could have conjured up in your imagination that would have prepared you for what it would really feel like to see him again. If you were to be completely honest, you were glad that your coffee and cinnamon roll were still on the top of the counter because you were certain that they would have fallen right out of your hands and onto the Market floor.

He abandoned his position in the line then, as if you speaking his name was a call to him, and maybe it was, on some level, but the truth and simplicity of it was that you were suspended in a state of pure disbelief and even in the short time it took for him to close the distance between you both, you were still yet to move and fix your features to something more neutral.

“Hey.”

It was a simple greeting that he gave you and logically you knew that there wasn’t really any tangible meaning behind that single word he spoke and yet there was something about the look in his eyes and the warmth in the smile he gave you.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you replied, finally finding your voice. “You look, you look good.”

It wasn’t a lie either, he did look good. The tall college boy you remembered, who was just a little too slight for his height, had filled out; you could tell that just from the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across the broad plains of his chest and strained around his biceps, and he was no longer clean shaven, which was something that had always made him look quite baby-faced. Instead he was sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and while he had kept his hair short on the sides, just like you’d remembered it, it was longer on the top than it had been in college and the curls were sweeping in a way that reminded you of the waves just beyond the Market door. He looked older, yes, which is exactly what you would have expected in the nine years since you’d last seen him but his eyes were still exactly the same, sparkling and full of mischief , yet still soft, perhaps even softer than before on account of the faint lines around them drawn by time’s fair hand.

“So do you,” he grinned. “You cut your hair.”

“I did,” you looked down as your face flushed with warmth, unsure exactly what you were supposed to say to him.

It was something you’d thought about during those imagined scenarios where you’d magically bump into each other again and you’d thought about all of the things that you would say to him. You would tell him about how much you’d cried when he left you behind to live out his boyhood dream and how angry you were that he didn’t want you to be a part of that, how it felt like all the plans you’d ever talked about were nothing more than empty words and how hurt that had made you feel. You felt like you at least deserved that, especially given that it was never just a casual fling between you both. After all, you’d been practically inseparable for two years. You’d been inseparable ever since he’d said those three words that mean so much. But now that he was here in front of you, all those words that had swirled around in your head and in your chest like a hurricane for so long, dissipated into nothing and you found yourself clutching at straws to find something, anything, to say.

Chris could sense this though. Of course he could because he was Chris and he had always been so in tune with you and your emotions and the fact that he was still able to read you so well was both a comfort and a knife in your chest, and while he internally grimaced at the fact he was having to fall back on using small talk between you both, he felt like it was what you needed in the moment. He wouldn’t expect things to go back to how they were after all this time, he couldn’t, and so he started with something simple, something he knew you would be able give him an answer to.

“So, what brings you to sunny Rowayton?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you replied.

“Ah,” Chris grinned, trying to keep the mood light. “See I asked you first and also, I live here so therefore the ‘question answering’ responsibility falls back to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, at both his words and the silly little expression he was wearing and despite all the years that sat between you both like a void and all of your hurt that was held within it, it all seemed to briefly melt away and in that moment it was like you were back at that little coffee stand outside of Campion.

“I didn’t realise this was an interrogation. Wait is this one of those little weird cult towns? Should I be worried?”

Chris knew by the little smirk you were wearing that you meant no malice behind your words and so he responded by sucking in air through his teeth before speaking again with one of those smiles that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Watch it, Pickle.”

Your stomach fell right into your shoes in that moment, that name he used only for you slipped from his lips like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do, like he’d never stopped calling you it and like it hadn’t been nine years since you’d last spoke a word to one another. Chris knew all this of course and he didn’t need to rely on intuition either because he could see every emotion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly on the exhale of a breath. “I um.. Force of habit, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. “Although not exactly ‘habit’, it’s been how long?”

Chris winced at that, the reality of how he left things between you both slapping him in the face and he was filled with the guilt that he’d spent almost a decade pushing out of his chest and shoving into the darkest corner of his memory where he would hope it would rest undisturbed. He knew that you were angry at him for leaving things the way he did, how could you not be? After all, he was the one who had broken your heart and left you in Boston, but it was never as simple as that, even back then there was so much he should have said but that was something he wouldn’t realise until much later when it was too late to repair the damage. The thinly veiled hurt in your eyes and the way your mouth was downturned was demonstrative of that fact.

“I know,” he all but whispered. “It just-“

“It’s fine, Chris. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

He nodded, watching with a quiet kind of sadness on his features as you turned to finally pick your coffee and cinnamon roll up off the counter before he cleared his throat softly to continue speaking.

“You never did say what brought you into town.”

You took a sip of coffee to give yourself long enough to settle the thundering in your chest before answering him, because for all your heart felt like it was about to burst from all the hurt you’d managed to hide away up until now, there was also a weird sense of nostalgia that came with seeing him and hearing his voice again, and even though he’d shattered your heart completely when he decided he no longer wanted you in his life, your mother had raised you right and you knew the proper thing to do was to indulge him in a little small talk, even if for nothing more than old time’s sake.

“Just here for the weekend,” you replied. “Work has been nuts lately and I needed some time away from home.”

Chris shuffled on his feet for a moment as you spoke while his eyes darted between you and the door that would lead to the outside world and the possibility of the two of you parting once more. It was an unexpected pull that he felt in his chest at that thought, you reappearing in his life out of the blue only to slip out of it just as suddenly by doing something as simple as walking out of that supermarket back out into the wide world. For nine years he’d thought about where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy and with each year that passed without seeing your face or hearing your voice, he’d resigned himself to the fact that you were lost to him, drifting out there in the seas of life never to see you again. He didn’t know why you’d suddenly come back to him now, whether by some stroke of luck or twist of fate, although Chris couldn’t have cared less which one it was. All he cared about was the fact that you were here at all and it was an opportunity that he was sure he wasn’t going to waste. He didn’t even know for certain that you would want to give him any of your time after what had happened when he left Boston, but he wanted to at least give you what he should have all those years ago and that was an explanation and an opportunity for you to tell him how his actions had made you feel.

“Hey, what are you up to this afternoon?”

“Not much,” you shrugged. “I was just going to sit on Bayley Beach and enjoy the nice weather.”

“Would you mind some company? No pressure, of course, I understand if you… I understand if you’d rather not want to spend any time with me.”

You exhaled then and Chris’s shoulders visibly sagged, bracing himself for your polite refusal, but your response was not one that he was expecting and truthfully, it wasn’t one that you had expected either.

“Honestly?” you started, getting swept up in the nostalgia of seeing him again before the rational part of your brain could catch up. “That would be nice.”

“Great,” he smiled in what you could see was pure relief. “Do you mind if I grab a coffee before we head out?”

“Sure,” you replied. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

You headed out the door and were sure to stand where Chris could see you, knowing him well enough to realise that he’d be worrying, at least on some level, that you’d slip off into the crowd. You’d never do that to him, of course, even after everything, because while he had broken your heart, he was also the first person you’d ever truly loved and when you’d put the pieces back together, you couldn’t help but keep a part of him wrapped up amongst the tape and string holding those pieces together while you healed. It was in doing that that you understood that he would always have a special place in your heart and honestly? You were kind of okay with that because while the ending hadn’t exactly been perfect, the two years you’d spent together were and you wouldn’t have changed that time for anything.

You weren’t sure what exactly had possessed you to let Chris talk you into venturing off campus and out in the early-February snow to get burgers at Eagle’s Deli but you were cursing those sparkling eyes and that roguish grin of his for wearing down your sensibilities as you righted yourself after what felt like the hundredth near-fall. It was slushy underfoot, the kind that’s a twisted ankle or sprained knee waiting to happen and while you’d dressed weather appropriately in your winter boots and heavy parka, you were still very newborn lamb-like in your movements which was amusing Chris to no end.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he called from up ahead as he grinned at you over his shoulder.

“Not all of us can be hockey prodigies and thrive in this kind of inclement weather,” you grumbled, shuffling slowly so as not to slip.

Chris laughed as he came back towards you with confident and purposeful steps, surprising you when he offered his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Now, I’m no expert in geography or meteorology but it snows in Hartford, no?”

He was grinning at you, the kind of grin that you had to fight with every fibre of your being not to reciprocate because you’d already committed to your grumpy act and you couldn’t have him thinking he’d cracked you already, even if he, in fact, had.

“Yes,” you stressed. “But I don’t make a habit of going out in it to get burgers like a crazy person.”

The cackle you received from him in reply was loud and a little wild and you couldn’t help but be completely captivated by the way his cheeks were ruddy from the cold and the snowflakes clinging to the curls on top of his head and long eyelashes. Tuesday morning coffees with him outside of Campion before class had turned into coffees in actual cafes during free periods and getting lunch together. It was even dragging your body out into the cold to the Alumni Stadium with your blanket and your thermos to watch Chris play with the BC Eagles because you couldn’t say no to that damn smile and those damn eyes and even now, as you looked at him taking in the scenery along the Chestnut Hill Reservoir pathway, you knew that they were going to be the death of you.

“It’s really pretty along here,” he spoke, more quietly than before; softer too. “You wouldn’t think we were in the middle of Boston.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice walk,” you agreed before shooting him a smirk and a look. “Would be nice in the spring sunshine too.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Little Miss Chilly.”

“I don’t know what you have against being warm, Kreider. Warm is good, warm is nice-“

You shrieked as your feet went out from under you, courtesy of a patch of black ice hidden under slushy snow and you squeezed your eyes shut in preparation for the impact of your ass hitting the cold, hard ground. But it never came.

“It’s okay,” Chris spoke reassuringly, one hand tight around your bicep while his other arm was curled around your waist, holding you upright. “I’ve got you.”

You opened your eyes then to be met with Chris’s looking right at you, all moss and bark and warm. He was smiling at you but it was different to the easy grin he usually wore around you, this was softer somehow and all rational thought was replaced by one of those monkeys playing the cymbals. For the briefest of seconds, and for reasons completely unknown to you, the monkey tried to take the wheel and the idea of kissing him right there, in the middle of the pathway that had made an attempt on your life, flashed into your head.

Maybe it was the snow and how perfect and picturesque the scene around you felt? Maybe it was the fact he’d just saved you from slipping? But the reality of it was that those eyes and that smile held some sort of power over you that you couldn’t yet fully understand. You shook your head quickly, if only to take back control of the situation before you did something more embarrassing than almost falling on your ass.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you regained your composure. “This damn pathway.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Chris grinned as he turned so his back was to you and stooped slightly. “Hop on.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I never joke about piggy-backs,” he replied in a faux solemn tone with the face to match. “Come on, we’ll get you to the Deli in one piece one way or another.”

And that was how you ended up with your arms looped around Chris’s shoulders and his strong hands holding the backs of your legs as he carried you on his back to Eagle’s Deli.

Not twenty minutes later, the pair of you were shuffling into a booth as you shed your coats, gloves and scarves, Chris grinning at you while you blew on your fingers in an attempt to restore warmth into them.

“See, told you I’d get you here in one piece.”

You scoffed at him and shot a playful glance across the table separating you both.

“You’re not human, that is the only explanation for how you’re able to walk in that,” you nodded towards the window where the snow was still falling to illustrate your point before continuing, “and not fall flat on your face.”

“Or my ass,” he added with a grin.

“Hey, that never actually happened!”

Chris’s face split into an even bigger smile at your little protest and the pout that had formed on your lips and while the gentle teasing between you was simply a part of the dynamic of your friendship, Chris would have been lying if he didn’t admit that the reason he did it so often was because you always looked so adorable trying to rebut him.

“No, you’re right. It didn’t,” he mused with a smirk, not needing to remind you that it was him who had come to your rescue judging from the unimpressed look you were throwing his way.

“All I’m saying is that we could’ve just gone to Hillside for lunch.”

“But the burgers here are superior,” he countered, smiling at you. “And you got to enjoy a beautiful walk in the snow with me so who’s the real winner he- mmpf!”

Chris was cut off by your damp mitten hitting his face, brows knitting into a slight frown before laughing at the proud grin you wore at the accuracy of your throw.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said with mock hurt.

“Maybe I’m not a very nice person.”

“I don’t believe that for one second,” he replied, but there was no teasing in his tone this time, only the kind of sincerity that had your face flushing warm and had you reaching for the menu to hide behind under the pretence of looking at the choices available.

He couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness with which you were trying and failing to hide from him but soon joined you in picking up a menu and perusing it, despite already knowing what he was going to order.

It was a few moments before the waitress came over and while neither of you spoke the silence between you both wasn’t exactly awkward even though Chris knew there was something about his last words that had had some kind of effect on you. He was right, of course, because despite the fact that you’d had hold of this menu for a good couple of minutes already, you hadn’t actually looked at a single thing on it even though you’d made such a show of doing just that and now that Chris had ordered, a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake, the waitress was looking at you expectantly. Unable to form any kind of rational thought under that kind of pressure, you found yourself simply saying “same” and soon enough it was just you and Chris at the table once more.

Chris was looking at you like he had something he wanted to say and the unreadable expression on his face had you feeling somewhat uneasy for reasons you hadn’t quite ascertained but probably understood on some level if you let yourself think about it for more than a second. He could feel the nervous energy radiating from you though and so rather than pursue his current train of thought, he picked a topic of conversation that was much safer and knew you’d be comfortable with: school.

You talked about your classes and upcoming assignments while he listened intently and you returned the favour while he spoke earnestly about hockey and his own academic workload. It was so easy to settle into a natural rhythm with Chris whenever you talked, as if you’d been having conversations like these for years when in fact it had only been a few months of knowing him and a few weeks of meeting up like this. None of that seemed to really matter though, not when the conversation was good and the chemistry felt right and especially not when it was clear that you were both on the same page when it came to your friendship. There was something else there though, something that was beyond being purely platonic, that much was becoming crystal clear and yet despite the ease in which it was to talk to him about literally anything else, there was something that had you stumbling over the thought of bringing it up.

You were saved from falling down that particular rabbit hole by the reappearance of the waitress, two burgers that were big enough to have your eyes popping out of your head in her hands. Chris chuckled from behind his milkshake at the look of disbelief on your face as your burger was set down in front of you before he reached for the bottle of ketchup between you both. You took the top of your burger bun off, nose immediately wrinkling at the sight of four pickle slices resting on top of the lettuce and tomato.

“Ugh, I forgot to ask for no pickles.”

Chris looked up from where he was squirting ketchup onto his bun, his eyes meeting yours briefly as his face split into a grin.

“You’re not one of those people, are you?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you began to pick the offensive green menaces off your food and set them at the edge of your plate. “I like what I like.”

Chris reached across and began to transfer the pickles from your plate to his burger, smiling widely at you as he did so.

“Well, I might have found a solution to this particular pickle you find yourself in,” he chuckled at the exaggerated groan and roll of your eyes at the expense of his joke. “You see, I love pickles.”

“You love anything,” you countered. “You’re like a human dumpster.”

“Hurtful,” he replied as he clutched at his chest. “But also true so I’ll allow it.”

You picked up a fry from your plate and threw it at him, immediately filled with equal parts surprise and a strange sense of awe as he reflexively moved and caught it in his mouth.

“You really are a dumpster,” you grinned as you shook your head at the proud little smile he was giving you.

“I am, so how about you don’t ask for no pickles on your burgers and you just give ‘em to me instead?”

It was easy to agree to his proposal, not least because his logic actually made a lot of sense when you thought about it, but mostly because of the way his eyes were sparkling and the way his smile made you feel warm all over, like the falling snow and freezing air outside didn’t exist, like your fingers and toes hadn’t been numbed by the biting cold during your walk here, like there had only ever been sunshine. It was also why you’d agreed to let him carry you back through the snow to your dorm, his large hands hooked around the backs of your thighs and your arms draped over his shoulders much like during the walk to the diner. You’d protested initially, of course, not wanting to burden Chris or put you both at risk of an injury due to the slippery conditions, but he wasn’t about to be convinced otherwise and remained unperturbed by the weather, gently reminding you that he had in fact got you to the diner in one piece in the first instance at your objections.

Truthfully, despite the mild embarrassment you felt at your complete ineptitude when it came to walking on ice, you couldn’t help but be more than a little impressed at Chris’s sheer strength. You wondered then, about how hard he must work in the gym to develop such a strong core because while you knew from first-hand experience how slippery it was underfoot, he didn’t falter once throughout the entire walk home and with the way he was talking amiably about his favourite places in the city he called home, and how his hands were holding your legs so surely and securely, you felt safe as houses with your chest pressed into his back – even with your thick coats and layers of winter clothing between you.

He walked with you on his back right up to the entrance of your dorm, setting you down carefully on the pathway that looked to have been newly shovelled before he turned to face you, his cheeks once again ruddy from the cold and your walk home.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ twice in one day,” he grinned, sucking air in through his teeth and shaking his head slightly. “But didn’t I say that I’d get you home safely?”

“So what if you were right twice?” you rebutted with a playful nudge. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna happen again.”

“Watch it, Pickle. I’ll have you know that I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Pickle?” you barked out a laugh, watching as Chris walked slowly backwards down the path away from you with that smile still on his face. “What kind of a name is that? I don’t even like pickles.”

“I know,” he called out into the growing distance between you both. “But I do, remember?”

You shook your head at him, chuckling to yourself with a smile on your lips that mirrored his as you watched him.

“See ya Tuesday then, Trash Can!” you hollered.

His raucous cackle cut through the silent flurry as he continued to walk slowly backwards, his grin clear as day even through the falling snowflakes.

“Trash Can! Fucking, Trash Can! Man, you got some serious chirps, Pickle. Can you throw hands too? I mean, I know you suck at keeping your balance on the ice but we could use an enforcer! I could push you around?”

“Anytime, anywhere!” you laughed, watching him with a grin until he had waved his goodbye and turned away before he retreated into the heavy snow.

Part ii

#it's all coming back to me fic #my writing #chris kreider #chris kreider fic #chris kreider x reader #nhl fic #nhl writing #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #hockey writing

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trashyswitch · 3 years ago

Text

Golden Freddy's Tickly Torment

Cassidy (Golden Freddy) remembers something from her childhood that proves super useful on William. She also finds out some body & Ghost connections and some bodily functions that William now lacks.

This fanfic has implied torture. But, there is a secret that makes the torture a little easier for the reader to handle.

This fanfic prompt was suggested by @trashylever on Tumblr. Link

I hope you enjoy!

Golden Freddy was sitting with William in the closet that he had been locked in for a decade now. Throughout all those years...William suffered at the hands of Golden Freddy. The Golden bear counterpart of Springtrap had been possessed by one of the victims of William’s kill streak: Cassidy. And Cassidy was determined to make William suffer for as many years as she can, so William regrets every second he took killing those innocent kids. While Charlie was looking after all the ghosts and protecting them from the hands of William, Cassidy was busy driving William insane in as many ways as she could…

Right now, Cassidy was doing what she normally did: taking his ear off, and talking some more into the separated ear. She kept on rambling and rambling and rambling...There was never a second of quiet. The only time Cassidy would take a break was to allow William the chance to not drown her out. By the time she stopped talking, William had turned the rambling into mumbling.

But then...it went silent…

Too silent…

...waaaay too-

“Oh yeah! I remember one time I was going to my friend’s house for a play date-”

Aaaaand there it was again. And again...and a-fucking-gain.

“And she wanted me to give her the game boy! But I didn’t wanna stop playing the game! So she decided to tickle me until I let go of it. I managed to last 10 minutes straight before I finally let go! Isn’t that amazing?!” She told him.

“Ugh…” He mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a big, fat, definite yes.” She started poking his arm.

William was about to smack her across the face. That would easily shut her up. It certainly did the trick when-

“Saaay, speaking of tickle-tickle-tickling, were you tickled as a kid?” She asked.

……….Wait what?

“No. Why would I be?” William lied.

“Everyone gets tickled at least once, William. How often were you ever tickled? How ticklish even are you? Did your Mom tickle you? Or your Dad? Or did both of your parent’s tickle you? Did you have an older brother or sister? DId they tickle you? Were you able to fight back? Or did you just take it like a strong boy?” Cassidy kept asking question after question.

William began to grow uncomfortable with what they were talking about now. Everytime she said the word...It gave him butterflies in his stomach. It made him wanna cower. It made him wanna...smile from pure embarrassment.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost...OH! WAIT!” Cassidy joked. “But seriously, you looked scared…” Cassidy admitted. “Are you scared of how long you’ll have to endure this evil, insanity test? Or are you scared the tiiiiickle monster’s gonna getcha?” Cassidy teased.

Oh no...Not that word again...and don’t bring the tickle monster into this…

“Do you know that a tickle monster creeps in this very room?” Cassidy teased, possessing Freddy to move herself onto the Golden animatronic’s kneecaps. Then, Cassidy’s ghost zoomed out of Golden Freddy’s mouth with a big smile on her face. “Did you know this tickle monster is waiting? Waiting for the peeeerrrfect time to strike~! Watching...Observing your every move...Waiting for the day it can slip out of the hiding spot and tickle you until you’re a tomato red blob of giggles!” Cassidy teased.

William was mentally dying at this point. The teasing was killing him suuuper slowly. He knew the tickle monster wasn’t really a thing. He knew the tickle monster was really Cassidy. He knew that really well. And yet...The fact that we was sitting with one of the most vengeful ghosts on the face of the earth, legitimately scared him. With how much she’s been doing already, it’ll be impossible to predict just where she was going with this...

But then William realized something: he can’t actually be tickled! He’s no longer connected to his human body, and animatronics don’t have nerves! So it should make sense!

...Right?

“IIIII wonder...where are the sources of this evil killer’s ticklish spots?” She asked casually. “You gonna tell me? Or do I have to tickle you myself to find out?” She asked evilly.

Wiliam sighed. “You can’t tickle me.” William told her.

“Oh I can’t? Well:” Cassidy possessed Golden Freddy again and flopped the Freddy Fazbear body right onto Springtrap’s.

“AAH! CASSIDY!” William shouted.

She ignored him and started scratching at his ribs with the golden animatronic’s fat, shiny fingers. William’s eyes just about bulged out of his skull as the butterflies in his stomach increased ten fold. “C-CASS-”

“Yeeeeeessss?” Cassidy moved the Golden Freddy thumbs into the pockets of the springlock suit and dug deeply into the hips.

OH NO! SHE COULD ACTUALLY TICKLE HIM! TALK ABOUT UNLUCKY! NOW SHE WAS GONNA USE IT AGAINST HIM! NOOOOO!

William wiggled around as much as he could from under Golden Freddy. He tried to prevent himself from laughing by holding his breath. He even unpossessed the springtrap suit to try and prevent the ticklishness from getting to him. But it still tickled like a son of a gun! Only now, William was wiggling around in ghost form and holding his hip while doubling over.

“Ooooooh! Interesting!” She reacted as she moved veeeery slowly up the ribs.

William desperately tried to tell her to not go there, due to just how ticklish it was when he was alive. But Cassidy ignored his begging words and moved closer and closer to his special little breaking point.

But as Cassidy was reaching a bad spot, William realized something horrific:

With William not possessing the springlock’s limbs, CASSIDY WAS ABLE TO MOVE THEM AROUND AS SHE PLEASED! WITH NO RESISTANCE WHATSOEVER!

“NO! NOOO! CASSY PLEASE!” William pleaded and reached his ghost arms out. “Sorry Mr. Afton…” She smirked with the look of pure devilish evil in her eyes… “But I’m not Cassidy anymore…”

It was then that Cassidy’s hand grabbed William’s hand and lifted the arm out of the way of the vulnerable spot.

“LEHEHET MEHEHEHE GOHOHOHO!” William shrieked as he anticipated ticklish fingers in his terrible armpits.

But...nothing.

Just...Nothing.

William was scared to open his eyes…

He accidentally let out a little chuckle. “C-Cass...what-”

[Let’s see how much pain you can stand.] The Golden Freddy’s voice declared…

then, Cassidy touched down on both armpits and dug deep into them. Every crevasse, every wire, every steel bit in the armpit...was touched and tickled for at least 5 minutes each.

“NOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” William finally let out his true, strongest belly laugh he had ever mustered. And it did NOT sound like that fake little fluffy laugh William used while with Cassidy.

This laugh was HEAVY. This laugh was DEEP. This laugh was ABSOLUTELY HYSTERICAL. It sounded slightly like pathological laughter! It even sounded slightly joker-ish at certain points! It was all over the place too! It was like he had 10 different laughs he was switching to every 8 seconds or so! It was surprising and strangely satisfying.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP STAHAHAP IHIHIHI’M GOHOHOHONNA DIHIHIHIHIE!” William begged.

Cassidy giggled. “Oh you silly goose! You’re already dead!” Cassidy joked.

All of the memories of people tickling him and reacting to his laugh and ticklish spots came flooding back into his head all at once. From Henry tickling him many times to get his glasses back, to his wife tickling him during her playful moods, to even Michael tickling him as a 9 year old! Would you believe that Henry’s wife even had a chance to tickle the poor guy? Yyyyup! She did, and she never did stop reminding him of it.

Cassidy moved her hands down to the middle to lower ribs to lessen his crazy laughter. William’s laughter turned calmer, and surprisingly adorable rather than concerning. “There! Now you sound a little less insane.” Cassidy told him.

William ignored her and only thanked the lord above for giving him a break.

But the break only lasted a few seconds before Cassidy explored down to his stomach and belly button.

William squeaked and really quickly possessed the animatronic body to move Cassidy off him. But with the tickling weakening him dramatically, he couldn’t do nearly as much as he thought he would be able to do. Cassidy settled for a compromise by laying partly on the springtrap’s side, and partly on the floor. With this decided, Cassidy decided to still attack his tummy.

This caused squeaks and squeals to leave William’s mouth. Then, wouldn’t you believe, giggle-filled laughter quickly filled the closet room. “Ooooooh! A whole new set of laughter! I wonder which one’s your real laughter…” Cassidy poked into the equivalent of William’s belly button…

William screeched and covered up the springtrap mouth. “MM MM! NOWAY!” He warned.

“No way? More like no way you’re getting out of this! So you minus well accept your fate.” Cassidy told him.

William whined as he wiggled around and kicked the empty air.

“Ooooh! Should I be going for those kicking feet of yours?” She asked.

OH NO…

He shook his head.

“Or perhaps I should go for your neck~” She asked.

William looked down and whimpered. His feet were way too ticklish, but his neck was the most embarrassing ticklish spot out of all of them! It made him all blushy, made him giggle and snort, and if he were a cat, he would most definitely purr. Even as a human, it made him dissolve into a puddle of giggles and titters.

Cassidy brought her hands towards the neck and wiggled them eagerly. “Kitchy kitchy kooo~” She teased.

William quickly decided to unpossess the animatronic suit. As much as he appreciated the feeling of moving the physical limbs around, William knew he’d need to move around and wiggle more the moment his neck was tickled even the slightest. So, he did just that and covered his ghost mouth.

“Oooooh! I see the murderer decided to finally come out of his shell! What a nice surprise!” Cassidy teased. It was then that she finally touched down onto his neck.

William squealed and rolled left and right as he floated in the air. His ghost had curled into the fetal position and his laughter was another octave higher. It sounded more like squeaky giggles rather than actual laughter. William definitely had a large variety of laughter that came with the man. No wonder everyone wanted to tickle him! They wanted to slightly gamble their trust away to see what type of laughter they could get out of William that day!

It didn’t take long for William to start snorting and covering up his mouth. Even Cassidy had to admit: He was kinda cute like this. Not love kinda cute, but definitely toddler kinda cute. He had that sort of vibe to him when he was tickled.

Cass actually had to remind herself for a second that William was a child killer and a manipulator. It was the strangest thing.

William’s laughter had begun to sound tiring. He sounded too mentally tired to really keep laughing, even though his body was forcing him to.

So, Cass enjoyed it for a few minutes. She found it interesting that William could be left in such a weak state through such a silly strategy. But, it worked and that’s all that mattered to Cassidy.

The animatronic slowed its fingers down and removed them from William’s neck. William breathed heavily and deeply to try and calm down. Though, Cassidy found this strange. His lungs should be a different scenario thanks to his ghost form and possessed state. William being able to be tickled and touched made sense. But lung capacity as a ghost? That didn’t make sense at all.

Was William faking it?

Cassidy decided to try something out to answer her question. She moved her fingers to William’s armpits and smirked. If he was really this tired, his laughter will be breathy, whiny, and weak.

Cassidy touched down-

“OHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHO! CAHAHAHAHASS COHOHOHOME OHOHOHOHON!” William screamed.

There’s your answer! He was definitely faking!

“Such a liar. You weren’t really getting tired...You were just trying to get me to sympathize with you and stop!” Cass called him out. “Now quit being a lying baby and act like a man!” Cassidy dug her fingers deeper into William’s armpit.

William SCREAMED and completely lost all his composure at this point. He couldn’t hide anything with his tickles being this strong! It was like trying to hide a huge, bright flamingo in the middle of a bedroom. EVERYONE’S EYES WILL GRAVITATE TOWARDS IT!

“There we go! Look at you being so brave and strong! Doesn’t it feel good?” Cassidy asked.

William shook his head.

“Is this really too much for you to handle? Would you like me to stop?” She asked.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! STAHAHAHAHAHA!” William’s laughter was all over the place and not even close to going silent.

It was this observation that fully confirmed Cassidy’s suspicions:

William has no lung capacity anymore.

“Hmmm…” Cassidy thought for a moment and stopped her fingers. William’s laughter lessened dramatically as he breathed...rather calmly for being tickled for potentially hours. Being in the closet meant that they both had no clue what time it was or how far along the years had gone.

William, with his newfound strength, pushed Cassidy off him. He was angry that Cassidy had brought him down to such a ‘weak’ state. How dared she make him laugh like that! How dare she figure out his tricks! And how dare she tickle him beyond the average human limits! It was a good thing he didn’t really have much lung capacity anymore! Or else he would be passed out cold from all the loss of oxygen.

Cassidy smiled and sat in silence for a few minutes as she processed the ticklish laughter. Then, she clicked a button on the Golden Freddy suit and giggled as recordings of William’s laughter and giggles filled the room.

Oh no she didn’t…

She recorded ALL OF IT?!

William growled and tackled his golden counterpart to the ground.

“HOW DARE YOU-” William yelped and lowered his face as his belly button was poked and tickled.

“Nice try, Mr. Will…but you should know something very important:” Cassidy’s voice changed to the animatronic’s voice...and the animatronic’s eyes glowed as she began to say the words:

[I always get the last laugh…]

The last thing William heard was a deep chuckle...

Does this fact about William (No lung capacity = no need for breaks) make the torment a little easier to handle? Let me know! I'm trying to find ways to not really go down the road of tickle torture unless it's fully justified.

#mental torment #william afton stuck #william afton is crazy #cassidy's revenge #punishment #post-fnaf 2 #pre-fnaf 3 #locked in a closet #ticklefic #ler!cassidy #ler!goldenfreddy #lee!william #lee!springtrap #tickle torment

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samplingmoonsters · 3 years ago

Note

What if Techno is like a walking heater cause he's from the Nether and Dream who's naturally cold??

Snow crunches under their feet, warm clouds of fog escaping frozen lips, evaporating quickly in the icy air like ghosts. Endless whiteness surrounds the pair, an empty canvas yearning for a splash of color. But there are no colors for miles, nothing but an abyss of white, except for the red cloak fluttering in the wind like the wings of a newborn bird. Not for the first time, olive green eyes find themself staring at the only interesting color since they started their never-ending journey through the north.

He stares at the broad back of the warrior, well aware of the muscles hidden behind the thick fabric. A hog-like snort escapes his companion as the tall warrior lets out a hot gust of wind. Dream’s tired, freezing body jerks at the loud noise. They haven’t spoken to each other for hours, only Dream’s exhausted breath and the snow crunching under their feet filling the silence around them.

Olive-green eyes widen and he stumbles back, almost falling into the snow, as Techno rams the end of his ax into the snow next to him. They stop in their tracks, finally giving the ex-prisoner’s body a precious second to rest after hours and hours of non-stop walking. Dream’s chest rises and falls in a mix of exhaustion and fear as he stares at Techno’s back. Even after spending weeks in a tiny cell together, building a relationship that doesn’t fit into any category but runs far deeper than simple friendship, Dream’s still gets nervous when he’s confronted with the view of a sharp object. A spike of anxiety settles into his chest, his fear rising the longer he has to look at the damn netherite ax sticking out of the snow.

He trusts Techno more than anyone else on the SMP but it is still hard to let go of old fears even after months of recovering in the Piglin's small cottage. Swallowing, Dream forces his body to relax and instead moves his eyes towards Techno’s face. Anything to distract himself from the weapon still glinting in the corner of his vision like a poisonous snake ready to strike.

At one point, Technoblade has turned towards him, ember eyes staring at the lanky blond, “We should search for a place to rest for tonight.” Techno murmurs before picking his ax back up, swinging it over his shoulder before walking straight towards the line of woods surrounding the snow-covered trail.

“Ah- wait for me!” Dream calls after the other man, small feet stamping through the snow like a newborn fawn who is just learning how to walk from their mother.

Away from the trail, the snow is even higher, reaching Dream’s knees and causing the blond to get stuck on multiple occasions. He has a hard time keeping up with the pink-haired man who doesn’t seem to have any problems navigating through the snowy landscape, his thick leather boots keeping him from sinking into the snow unlike Dream’s pathetic excuse of footwear which can’t even keep his feet decently warm. He can already feel his toes starting to freeze off. If this goes on he won’t have any feet to complain about coming tomorrow morning.

If it weren't for Techno's strong hands pulling him out every now and then Dream would be forever stuck in the middle of the woods.

"Be careful where you are stepping." Techno grunts after pulling Dream out of the snow for what must be the tenth time.

Dream grumbles a curse under his breath, patting the snow from the pants before throwing a dark glare at his companion, "I do! It's not my fault the snow is, like-- ten feet high!" He stomps his feet into the snow, his childish tantrum only resulting in him soaking his pants even more.

Dream could practically hear the other roll his eyes, "Don't be dramatic...it's not that deep." As if to prove his point Techno stomps one foot into the snow. The appendage barely sinks into the snow. But all too soon Techno’s attention is stolen away once more by the distant howls of wolves. The warrior grips his ax tightly, red eyes jumping around the trees, searching for any potential danger while he waits for Dream to stop sulking around so they could start moving forward again.

Dream lets out a huff, seemingly indifferent about the continuing howls. He knows that Techno will keep him safe, so he doesn’t even bother taking out the dagger hidden inside his dark-green coat. It’s not like he would be any good in a fight. Ever since they escaped the prison, Dream quickly realized that his hands would never be able to truly hold weapons of any kind anymore, not with how much they trembled and shook. He’s happy that he could hold a cup of tea without spilling hot liquid everywhere, and hey, he can even hold a spoon without too much of a hitch.

Small progress as Techno would say.

And maybe, with a lot of training and patience, he would even be able to hold an ax again one day.

Though, that dream is rather blurry for now. Let’s rather focus on re-learning how to use a knife and fork for the moment....or Techno would have to help him cut his steak forever and that’s just fucking embarrassing. He already feels like a helpless child 75% of the time when it comes to holding anything.

Which also includes not being able to walk on snow like his companion.

Fucking piglin hybrids and their natural ability to walk over loose ground.

"...that doesn't prove anything. You-you're used to walking through snow." Crossing his arms, Dream glares at a random patch of snow near Techno's left foot. Now that they have stopped moving, Dream can feel the unbearable coldness sinking into his already half-frozen skin. Dream hates to admit it, but he does have a low tolerance when it comes to low temperatures. All his life, he has lived in hotter regions, places where the sun never stops shining all year round, and where hurricanes and heavy storms are a monthly concurrence. But now, he's forced to live in a snowy biome, far away from the sun, where it never stops snowing and the nights are long.

Dream couldn't remember when he last felt truly warm. Even in the safety of Techno's beloved cottage, there's still something cold lingering in his chest, freezing his body from the inside...

Maybe that's just his trauma showing his ugly head... Nevertheless, Dream really missed lying among the flowers, grass tickling his cheeks while he let the sun heat up his body.

And while the prison had been warm, unbearable so, the warmth wasn't the same as the feeling of sun rays on his freckled skin.

Ender, when was the last time he had worn a crop top? Felt like a billion years ago. He couldn't even wear cute outfits in this shitty weather. Fucking Antarctica...

Yearning for an outlet for his building frustration, Dream angrily kicks a small pile of snow, accidentally spraying Techno's face with the powdery substance.

For a second the woods go deathly silent as if the trees themselves could feel the tension rising between the rivals. The two men stare at each other, a silent battle taking place. Techno's narrowed red eyes promise unbearable pain, causing Dream to fidget nervously.

If there is one thing Dream hates more than raw potatoes it's complete silence. He remembers a time when silence didn't bother him. A time when he could linger in his base far underground unbothered by the pure quietness surrounding him, even enjoying it. He was used to being alone, doing his own thing, a lone wolf some would call him, but after the whole prison thing...Dream began to hate the sound of his own voice, the silence that would linger after he screamed his lungs out either from hours of torture or talking nonstop to his own reflection in the lava.

Yeah, he would much rather listen to Techno's monotone voice for hours, all day long, if it means he wouldn't have to listen to his own scrambled thoughts.

"Uh...Tech--"

Before Dream could finish his sentence his feet suddenly left the ground as his tall, lanky body was raised from the snow. The blond squeezed his eyes tightly, expecting to be body slammed into the cold abyss for revenge but instead, he felt a pleasant warmth surrounding him from all sides.

Fluttering his eyes open he's met with the sight of Techno's broad chest. Jerking his head up he stares at the piglin but the other is ignoring him, red eyes stubbornly looking forward as they continue their way through the foggy woods. Green eyes focus on the warm puffs of air escaping Techno's pink lips, the way his sharp tusks glint in the faint light like hidden daggers, and how his red eyes seem to sparkle brighter than the ice crystals littering the ground. This close, Techno's beauty is almost otherworldly.

Truly the God of Bones and Blood.

And now the God is carrying him. Carrying him bridal style while curling his precious red cape around them both.

Dream's cheeks quickly catch on fire at the unexpected turn of events.

Forcing himself to relax, he leans his cheek against Techno's armored chest, almost jerking back in surprise at how warm the other feel even through the thick layer of metal.

Oh Gods, Techno is burning, a steady warmth spilling from him in waves like a dying star. With the cape curled around them, keeping the cold air away and trapping Techno's body heat, Dream feels like he's sitting in a furnace.

A very soft, grumpy furnace.

He almost forgot how warm Techno is. When they were still in prison Dream didn’t really notice Techno’s abnormal body heat. Back then everything, the air, the water, the obsidian blocks, was hot to the touch. Soon Techno’s body heat just turned into another source of heat in the already stuffy cell.

Now, Dream welcomed the warmth.

For what feels like the first time in months, Dream feels the coldness leaves his body.

Letting out a sound that comes close to a purr, Dream leans back against Techno's chest. With his cheek pressed against the other’s armored chest, he can clearly hear Techno's strong heartbeat. The steady sound pulls him into a placid state where each one of his problems and haunting memories leaves his mind for a little while until all he can feel is the vibration of Techno's heart and the strong hands holding him up.

Protecting him.

"Just so you know, if the wolves decide to attack us, I'm throwing you into the snow." Technoblade's monotone voice drifts through the blurry edges of his mind, almost throwing him out of his serene bubble.

Not wanting to leave the peaceful corner of his mind just yet, Dream cuddles deeper into Techno's chest, successfully ignoring the Piglin's warning.

Above him Techno let out a long, tired sigh, yet, the hands around his waist are pressing him closer, a silent promise to shield him from any upcoming danger.

With a small smile on his lips, Dream lets himself sink into the peaceful abyss, the sound of Techno's heartbeat guiding him. He falls asleep to the familiar lullaby of Techno’s heartbeat.

And so, far up in the north where the sun rarely shines and the snow never stops falling, the blond warrior found his own sun to warm up his broken soul.

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

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for weeks! Sorry that it took me so long, dear anon! I hope you like it!

#dreamnoblade #technodream #anon ask #sammy's book club #1900 words #fanfic

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Bit Stabbed

Jake Gets Stabbed Miniseries: First Second Third Fourth Fifth Sixth

CW: Discussion of past child abuse/domestic violence, description of stab wound, painkillers/drugged but in a good way, brief IV needle reference, some short references to Jake’s religious trauma, some trauma response stuff

“Took four of us to get you onto the couch, you know,” Kauri says, fingers moving gently to brush Jake’s short hair back off his forehead. There’s a hint of humor to his deep voice, but Jake catches the tremor in it, too. “You’re heavier than you look.”

“Must be… pretty fucking heavy, then,” Jake manages, voice slightly thin. They gave him something - Nat’s EMT friend showed up with IV supplies while refusing to tell anyone where they’d gotten ahold of everything from, except to repeatedly reassure all of them I know someone, it’s taken care of, I probably won’t go to jail for this. Besides, I’ve been in jail before.

Jake might not have found it very reassuring if he wasn’t halfway to unconscious from the pain alone at the time.

Now, though, there’s a needle feeding a steady supply of something wonderful into his bloodstream, holding the worst of the pain at bay. All he can feel now is maybe a little bit of an itch he knows better than to scratch, and a heaviness to his limbs that keeps them limp and relaxed.

“We had to turn the stupid thing into the pull-out bed just to make sure your feet wouldn’t be higher than your head.” Kauri smiles at him, but there’s worry in those warm blue eyes, and Jake uses every ounce of strength to lift his good hand, the one on the uninjured side, and take Kauri’s, pulling his knuckles to his lips to brush against them.

“I’m okay,” Jake says softly. “I am, Kaur. It’s not so bad.”

“It’s not-... you got fucking stabbed in your own kitchen, Jake.” Kauri’s lips thin and he looks away, over towards the TV, playing Clue.

Funny, Jake thinks, woozy and untethered to any kind of focus. My mom used to play Clue when we were alone, after. Made her feel better for a while.

“Just a… a flesh wound,” Jake manages in a terrible approximation of a British accent.

Kauri just looks at him, expression serious, and leans over until their foreheads touch. He’s warm, and Jake’s eyes close, basking in the body heat that comes off of him, surrounds them both. “Don’t,” Kauri whispers. “Please don’t make jokes. I thought-”

“It’s okay,” Jake murmurs.

Eventually, he should probably tell someone he can only sort of feel the hand on the injured side. But not now.

“It’s okay. It’s not s’bad. I got the good drugs, right?”

“Antibiotics and…” Kauri squints at the label on the bag attached to the IV, then winces and shakes his head. “Sorry. Can’t read today. It, uh. It kind of comes and goes when I’m worried, and today-”

“I get it. But… you don’t have to worry about me, Kaur. It’s over, it happened… I’ll feel better pretty fast. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Kauri says softly, but he relaxes beside Jake, keeping a hold of his hand. His fingers are slightly chilled, but they warm against Jake’s. The two of them settle into silence for a while, a woman in black on the TV with eyes blown wide in comic exaggeration of anger speaking in a blur of sound Jake knows by heart but can’t really pick apart from anything else, not just yet, not right now.

He knows this movie by heart. He and his mom used to curl up under a blanket while she closed her eyes and prayed for things to get better and Jake prayed for his dad to die in a car accident or some other terrible way, and make it slow, and then pray with terror not to go to hell for thinking like that.

If men like his father go to heaven, Jake would rather burn in hell.

At least my favorite bands would be there, he thinks, and laughs to himself, shoulders shaking a little, sending a ripple of pain down his arm and spiking into his skull. He winces, but the thought still strikes him as too funny to quit circling woozily around his mind, and he keeps laughing a little.

Kauri turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “What are you laughing at?”

Jake blinks over at him, those wide blue eyes. It had been hell not to be able to hold him for so long, with eyes like that. Real hell, the kind where you spend your days wishing for a connection that seems too hard to make. “Nothing, just… thinking about shit with my dad,” He says, finally. “My mom and I used to watch Clue all the time. It’s her favorite movie.”

“Yeah?” Kauri looks over his shoulder, back at the television, and Jake’s eyes move lazily over the slight bump in his nose where it was broken by someone years ago, the dip of his lips, the roundness of his chin, angling a little with age. The way his neck would feel to trace with just one fingertip, how he smiles when Jake does it, asks him what the fuck he’s looking at when there’s way more to Kauri that needs attention right now than just his face.

There’s a lazy wave of warmth in Jake, a steady thrum of something that goes much deeper than arousal, at the memory.

Adoration.

“Yeah,” He says, softly. “She’d put it on when he left the house, we’d make popcorn and watch it. Saturday night special, popcorn and a movie, Mom and Jake.”

“Where’d your dad go?” Kauri asks, then the answer catches up with him, and he winces. “Wait, sorry. I think I know where he went.”

“Church.”

That is clearly not what Kauri expected to hear. “I-... what?” He turns back to Jake, eyebrows furrowing. “I thought-”

“Nope. He went to church. Fish fry on Saturdays, he volunteered.” Jake is dimly aware that this might be more than he’s ever told Kauri about his father, at least more than he’s ever said that wasn’t laser-focused on the hurts, the bruises, the concussion, the ER visits where Jake learned to lie. “He was a magician with a deep fryer. Best fucking fish I ever ate.” He laughs, then coughs a little against the new round of ache in his shoulder.

Kauri is quiet for a moment, his eyes searching Jake’s face, maybe looking for an idea of how to respond the right way. Jake knows that look - he’s seen it less and less over the years, but it never fully stops.

Kauri never stops looking for the safe answer, the one that won’t get him hurt. Jake never stops being ready to fight his way out if it happens again. Kauri is still ready to say what the abuser needs to hear, placate and please and keep himself alive.

Jake is still ready to pick up a weapon and use it if his father ever comes near he or his mother again. Not that he ever will. Not that he even wants to, sixteen years after Jake last saw his face.

But he’s still built, deep within, to fight the threat. And so is Kauri, in his own way.

“I love you so much,” Jake says softly. “I hope you didn’t pull anything dragging my ass around.”

“Mmmn, guess I’ll find out,” Kauri says softly, snuggling back up to him, then. “Should we change the movie? If it’s, like, a thing for you-”

“Nah.” Jake smiles, slightly. He feels pleasantly drunk, on whatever the painkiller slowly drip-feeding into his arm is. A little woozy, a little bit in love with it. “It’s like a comfort thing, really. I should call my mom-”

“I already did,” Kauri says, gently pushing him back down as Jake tries to make himself sit up. “She’s driving up. She said she’ll get here in the morning, she had to find someone to watch her dog.”

Jake blinks twice. “Mom has a dog?”

“I think it’s new. But, um. You can’t exactly meet her at her hotel, Jake. She’s gonna have to come here.”

Jake feels a rush of old nerves prickling along his arms, the hair of his neck trying to stand up. He closes his eyes, tries to push it back down. “I’ve never given her my address. It’s not safe for us. What if-... I don’t know. I’ve just never… I’ve always worried that if he found her, you know, that he’d… convince her to tell him where I live. He’d turn us all in just to feel like the big righteous moral hero all over again. Probably hard to feel that way when you’re hitting a teenager. Easier when you’re turning in vigilantes with stolen property.” He spits the words, and Kauri flinches a little. “Shit. Sorry, Kaur.”

“No, it’s. It’s okay. I get what you mean. But I don’t think your mom would do that. She loves you.”

“She does.” Jake exhales, closes his eyes. Inside him there is still an angry child that wants to point out that it hasn’t always been enough. But there’s a grown man, and a decade of fucking therapy, telling him there’s a whole lot more to it than that. “And she’s finally come around to understanding why I do this. Yeah… yeah, we’ll tell her where I am. It’ll be fine. Honestly, it’s not so bad. Jameson really did a great job on the stabbing.” Jake tries to laugh again. “Fucking surgeon with a butcher knife. He managed to miss every fucking bit of me that would have killed me.”

“Except for if you bled out,” Kauri points out, voice small.

“Yeah… but I didn’t.” Jake thinks of Antoni’s face, the focus in his dark eyes, the quick movement of his hands, the blinding agony of the cloth being forced into the wound to soak up the blood, the way Antoni had leaned all his weight forwards to put enough pressure to staunch the bleeding. Jake had never felt pain like that before, and he’s not sure he could handle feeling it again. “Ant was there. It’ll be okay. Where is he?”

“In his room.” Picking at the heavy thick blanket laid over Jake, not quite looking at him now, Kauri asks, “How are you so calm about this?”

“Drugs,” Jake answers right away. “Like ninety percent drugs.” He groans as a throbbing ache travels from the stab wound, up into his skull, all the way down to his toes. “Fuck. The… whatever’s in there helps. But also…” Jake sighs, letting his eyes drift to the ceiling, over the popcorn-texture there. He’d meant to scrape it clean and smooth, when he bought the house, but other stuff kept taking priority, and he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. “This isn’t th’ first time, you know?”

Kauri frowns. “Jake, I have licked just about everything on your body, I’ve never seen a scar from-”

“Not… not stabbed. But… stuck here, on a couch-bed, tryin’... tryin’ to heal from shit. That’s not new.” Jake exhales. Above him, the blades of the ceiling fan circle lazily, and his eyes follow the movement of the shadows.

“No, I guess not.”

“In any case… I haven’t s-seen… Jameson’s upstairs, right? Can you get him down here?”

Something passes over Kauri’s face, a shadow, a discomfort and darkness that Jake can’t quite read. “Jameson’s not in the house, Jake.”

“What? Why?” Jake starts trying to sit up again, and this time Kauri’s gentle push isn’t enough to get him back down. He grinds his teeth against the pain and forces himself upright, trying to shift his legs over the side of the bed. The room spins around him, dizzy-sick flip in his stomach, but he ignores it. He’s felt worse than this and kept moving before. “Shit, fuck, I should’ve made sure he didn’t leave-”

“He didn’t. I made him go.”

The look Jake turns on Kauri is baffled, but there’s anger, too, welling up inside him. “You what?”

“I told him he can’t stay here if he’s a danger to you and the others,” Kauri says, but he cringes back from Jake’s expression, instinctive fear. Jake hates how he looks like his dad - huge and muscular, a threat inherent in his existence that he might not give off if he were smaller. But his bulk and his strength is also the thing that makes him capable of withstanding the danger he puts himself in for them. It’s the reason he could come home and pick Chris up with a broken rib and carry him after they raided the last safehouse he’d lived in. It’s the reason he could finally fight back with his dad. It’s the reason the kids at his new schools, one after another after another as he and his mom moved constantly to try not to be found, left him alone.

“Kauri, he can’t-... Jameson’s not. He can’t live on his own.”

“That’s a lie,” Kauri says, lips barely moving. “That’s a lie they tell us-”

“No, that’s not what I-... Jameson’s like Chris,” Jake says, softly. “Like Chris used to be. He was treated like an animal, Kauri. He didn’t get to use fucking utensils to eat in the last two places he was held, he told me himself. He can’t live on his own yet. If you kicked him out… Jesus Christ, Kauri, do you not remember how it felt when you were kicked out?”

Kauri looks like he’s been slapped. “Wait, Jake-... I didn’t mean-”

“We found you half-dead under a goddamn bush, Kauri, you can’t do that to someone else just because I got a little bit stabbed! Shit. Fuck. I gave him a burner phone, if he’s still got it on him, maybe I can call-”

“Jakob fucking Stanton!” Kauri yells so rarely, and Jake goes still, turning to look at him, seeing the anger written across Kauri’s face. Kauri angry is electric, and immensely sexy, and something Jake had gone so long thinking he would never see unless Vincent Shield showed up with a new idea for how to make up for all his failures by forcing himself around someone who hated him. “Will you fucking listen to me?!”

Jake just sits there, staring at him. He can’t even find the words. Eventually, he just nods.

“I didn’t kick him out on the street, I’m not that awful, and fuck you for thinking I am and we’re going to talk about that later when you aren’t half off your head from painkillers. I don’t want him here until you’re feeling better in case it happens again, so I-... so I sent him home with Nat. She doesn’t have anyone living with her right now, and she said okay, so he’s going to stay with her.” Kauri swallows, reaching slowly out to lay his hand on Jake’s leg. “He and I talked. He said it’s always been men, Jake. All of the ones who hurt him were men, one of them was... was really big like you, I guess. So I thought-... if he’s with Nat, maybe it won’t happen again for long enough for him to, to work it through in therapy and Dr. Berger maybe can give him, give him s-something to help. So maybe he won’t, um, hallucinate or… or w-whatever the next time.” Kauri’s eyes well up, glimmer with tears that don’t fall. “I was trying to help. I thought he’d feel safer with only a woman, maybe, and I sent him alone so that he’d know he can’t hurt Allyn, he was really scared of that, and…”

Jake’s mouth hangs open.

Kauri slumps over, his forehead slowly resting against Jake’s back where he sits slightly behind him now that Jake is nearly off the bed. “I had to make sure everyone’s safe. I didn’t know what else to do. I sent Chris to stay with Laken overnight but he’ll be back tomorrow, Antoni’s fucked up but he’s in his room and he’s safe, and all the rescues promised to stay in their rooms and Allyn tried to go with Jameson and I think they hate me now because I said no, but I didn’t-... I tried to think of what you would do, if it had been Chris or me he’d hurt. I was trying to be like you. I’m s-sorry if I fucked it up, I’m sorry, please, I thought you were going to die, please don’t be mad at me-”

“Kauri.” Jake turns, and uses his good hand to lift Kauri’s chin, meeting his eyes.

Blue on blue, always.

“I’m not mad,” He says, gently. “Not… not now. You’re right, I shouldn’t have… just been a shit deciding what you did without asking. I’m sorry. So, let me just… you spent the last couple of hours really fucking busy, huh?”

Kauri nods, kissing Jake’s fingertips, one by one. “I’m sorry,” He whispers. “I’m not… I’m not good at this, I’m not... not... I was so scared. I didn’t know what you would do, Jake, and Nat said she thought it was a good idea, so-”

“It is. It is a good idea.” Kauri blinks, surprised, and the tears that have been threatening finally run, clear as crystal, down his flushed cheeks. He looks like a fucking sculpture, Jake thinks to himself, like some artist’s idea of the perfect beautiful person. “Kauri, just. Now that I get what you were trying to do… Shit. That’s really smart.”

Kauri huffs a laugh, a kind of half-sobbing sound, and shakes his head. “It’s just, I was just guessing-”

“That’s all we ever do, too,” Jake says, voice soft. “We guess, at what we can do to help. Nat always says we make the hard choices when nobody else can. Kauri, that’s the smartest fucking idea. I’m… that’s some grace under fire shit. That’s amazing.”

“It… it is?”

“Yeah.” Jake kisses him, and Kauri tastes like mouthwash, like mint, kisses back with desperate intensity. “Yeah, Kaur. That’s even better than what I would have done. You’re so fucking smart. What made you decide to slum it with me?”

“You have a really good d-dick and I don’t w-w-want to lose access,” Kauri says, and he’s crying or laughing or maybe both. “You’re my eye candy.”

“You’re my Einstein.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself,” Jake says softly.

“Heal a little first.” Kauri sighs, half-smiling, pulling Jake back into the bed to lay down again. “Everyone’s safe, Jake. At least for now. Everyone’s okay. You need to rest, and everyone’s going to be okay.”

Jake lets his head be maneuvered back onto the pillow, feels Kauri settle back down next to him, pulling the blankets back up over them both. He’s silent for a while, lets the soft sound of the end of the movie wash over him, showing the different endings.

“I love you,” He whispers. The way the adrenaline is fading makes him sleepy, drifting in a new drowsy haze, ready to dose off again. “So much.”

“Love you, too,” Kauri murmurs.

He knows this - the couch-bed pulled out, watching movies and stand-up comedy at a low volume, a throb of pain somewhere that will heal only with time - by heart.

With Kauri’s weight and warmth beside him, it feels entirely, completely new.

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @endless-whump

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XXIII

Part I - - - - - - - - - Part XX - - - - Part XXI - - - - Part XXII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

The office was quiet but for the occasional shuffling of flimsi and tapping of datapads.

Bail Organa and Mon Mothma pointedly did not exchange a glance behind Padme’s back.

Senator Mothma set down her pad and broke the silence. “Padme...are you alright?” she asked softly.

“I’m fine Mon, let’s just go over the bill,” Padme responded stiffly.

Mothma hesitated. “That’s not the only reason I asked you here, Padme.”

Padme stood, chair scraping gratingly. “I see; I’ve already had the Chancellor pry me today in an attempt to exploit my ‘connections’ to the Jedi—as though they’re droids and not flesh-and-blood people who any average person could strike a friendship with—but I had thought better of you two; I suppose my faith was—”

“That’s not what I meant—” Mon pleaded.

“We’re concerned about you,” Bail insisted gently. “You don’t have to tell us anything about the Jedi that you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

Padme paused, then reluctantly sat back down.

“My apologies,” she muttured. “It’s been...a long day. I’ve been asked by the Chancellor for help in breaking some news that...I’d rather not.”

The senators waited patiently for Padme to collect her thoughts. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “General Kenobi has suffered from...force...I really don’t think there’s a way of saying this that doesn’t sound bad.”

“I had heard rumors that he was missing at meetings the last few days...has something serious happened?” Bail asked, concerned.

Padme shuddered. “This office is...”

“It’s clean,” Mothma confirmed quietly. “I have it checked independently anytime I’m gone for more then 15 minutes, with random deep-scans.”

“Would you mind...”

Mon nodded and the three waited in silence until the Chandurllian senator’s pad trilled the all-clear.

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself earlier this week,” Padme confessed lowly. Mon straightened up in a sudden locking of knees and elbows, face drawn into tight lines. Bail’s hands flew to his mouth, tears forming.

“Knight Skywalker got to him in time, and he was in a coma until this morning when he apparently ‘ranted about ending the one’s responsible for the war’ and then vanished, along with Anakin.”

Mon grew very pale and Bail moved both hands from his mouth to his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said softly. “Just...fuck.”

Padme nodded in agreement and Mon inhaled deeply.

Bail rubbed way tears and straightened up resolutely. “How can we help?” he asked Padme. “How does the Chancellor want to handle releasing the news?”

She smiled weakly. “He’s leaving the exact wording up to me, but wants to make the announcement during the next full Senate gathering.”

“What!” Mon half-shouted, shocked. “There’ll be a riot! Surely a bulletin—even a press conference would be better for encouraging a moderate reaction—people will be shouting before he’s through the first sentence!”

“I know,” Padme agreed with a grimace. “But he wants ‘transparency.’“

“He wants panic,” Bail fumed.

“I’m trying to decide if it would better or worse to include the part about suicide,” Padme said bitterly. “Mental health breakdown and disappearance of the Republic’s highest General doesn’t leave much room for confidence or privacy.”

Mon clutched Padme’s hand in support. “I’ll have a PR team on standby. We can prepare resources for anyone who has questions, avoid conspiracy theories from spinning out. I already had a project on the backburner to put together own set of holoclips of the Jedi working towards peace—a counter to the ‘warmongering’ narrative, so to speak. It should be easy enough to adapt.”

“The Chancellor’s going to turn this into another military spending bill,” Bail predicted grimly. “We’ll make sure there’s a proviso in there to provide actual support for the Jedi in the field; I’ll make sure to get a legal team on viper in the grass duty as soon as the responses start coming out.”

“Thank you,” Padme said, gripping Mon’s hand over-tightly in return. She turned to the Alderannian senator. “I’m sorry Bail, I know you two are close.”

Bail exhaled slowly. “This war...I’ve seen Obi-Wan survive so much, and everytime he pulls off the impossible...”

“He’s rewarded with another burden on his shoulders,” Padme finished sympathetically. “Yes, I’ve been watching the same thing happen to Anakin. It’s—if the separatist movement hadn’t resolved into such a democratic and humanitarian nightmare—”

“You should go home and get some rest, Padme,” Mon urged. “It’s late, and the we’re all going to need to be sharp tomorrow. Who knows, maybe some new information will materialize before the afternoon.”

“Why Mon, that’s almost optimistic of you,” Bail remarked dryly.

Mon flashed him a wry grin, looking at Padme out of the corner of her eye. “Well. She did say Anakin with AWOL—”

“Oh do be quiet,” Padme huffed.

Despite the ever growing desire for sleep, it was another long hour before the Senator from Naboo departed. The pair were just turning to their seats after escorting Padme out when Bail let out a startled yelp; Mon instinctively kicked at the sudden small green blur.

Fortunately, when you’re green and the height of most humanoid’s knees, you become quite experienced at avoiding such reflexive

“Master Yoda! What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” Senator Mothma staggered backwards, reverting to defensiveness to cover up her embarrassment at attempting to punt the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

“Has his ways, a Jedi does,” Yoda replied mysteriously. Mon Mothma nodded seriously as Bail restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He had spent far too much time around Obi-Wan for deliberate Jedi vagueness to hold much weight.

“Can I—May I offer you a seat?” Mon asked, quickly recovering her diplomatic grace. “I’m afraid that you’ve just missed Senator Amidala, but I’m sure she would be eager to return; I understand she’s...concerned for Master Kenobi.”

The wizened Master shook his head, ears flopping as he hopped onto Padme’s recently vacated chair, standing on the cusioned seat as the two senators’ settled down. The sight should, perhaps, have been comical. But the weight of his gaze...Bail held his breath. Perhaps Jedi mystique did still have some affect on him.

“Come to speak with the two of you, I did. Missed Mistress Amidala, I have, I know. Deliberate, this was.”

Mon and Bail frowned, exchanging a slow look of pointed disapproval. Bail spoke hesitantly but with touch of reproach. “I’m certain she would prefer to be here, regardless of the news—Padme has suffered for her public defense of the Jedi, I should hope that that friendship is returned, especially in hard times”

Yoda’s ears drooped. “A great Jedi, she would have made, in another life. Vibrant, she is in the Force. Loud to a Jedi, regardless of sensitivity. But needed now, quiet is.”

Yoda’s gaze pierced Bail and he warmed inexplicably. “Quiet the two of you are. Brilliant, wide but in the Force...” Yoda broke the gaze, growing contemplative.

“Unique in the force, each soul is. That can be read, rare is the mind. More difficult to discern, currents, intentions, manner, it is with some, it is with you. And now, Quiet we need.”

The two settled back, uneasily flattered. “Master Yoda—it’s an honor of course, to be considered an individual worthy of confidence, but why exactly do you have need of quiet minds? Of us?” Senator Mothma asked finally.

The diminutive Master sagged. “By actions you would do, trust you have earned. But always in motion, the future is. A heavy burden, to carry, I must ask you. Without cause, I would not ask. But once tell you this I do—”

To the politicians shock Master Yoda’s simmed to glisten with unshed tears. “—Guarantee your safety I cannot.”

The air hung warm and heavy for a timeless moment and a chill ran up both their spines. But neither were individuals particularly given to indesicion in the face of looming danger.

“How can we help?” Mon asked, the words echoing over far more than an hour.

“We know something is wrong with Obi-Wan,” Bail added softly. “Whatever we can do to right it—Obi-Wan is a friend, the Jedi are our allies, and the Republic is our duty.”

Mon nodded firmly.

Yoda stared at them each in turn, eyes searching and ancient.

“Working with the Separatists, the Chancellor is,” he said bluntly. “Evidence of this, we have, but not proof. Controlling, the Separatists, the Chancellor is. Evidence of this we have also, but not proof. The truth it is.”

“Evidence?” Bail parroted hoarsely, mentally assembling his own grim circumstantial coronation even as his understanding of the conversation’s direction fell apart.

The Jedi Master drew two small glittering objects from his pocket—a datachip and a microslide.

“In the brain of a trooper, this we found.” he said gravely. “In the brain of all clones, this lies. Orders, it contains. Evil, is it. Free will, it can control. Decode it we have. To the Chancellor, tied these orders are.”

“Force,” Mon murmured in horror, responding automatically. “He already controls the public, and the courts—”

“And over half the senate,” Bail added bitterly.

“A Sith, he is,” Yoda continued with a sigh. “A Sith he has always been. A return to an Empire, he aims.”

There was a long heady pause as the two grappled with the return of the ancient boogeyman of the Republic and the repeated derailing of their night’s direction.

“Fuck,” Senator Mothma said delicately, thinking wistfully of two hours ago when she had planned on confronting Padme yet again on her relationship with a young Jedi.

“Said the same, did we.”

The Alderannian Senator rubbed his temples, trying to come to terms with consecutive massive shocks from the already unexpected conversation. “Is Obi-Wan alright?” he asked eventually.

The small Elder hummed thoughtfully in reply. Bail tensed.

“No and yes. Suffer much, he has. Broken he is, but not shattered. A plan he has. His idea to include you, it is. The bravest man in the galaxy, he called you.” Yoda said, offering Senator Organa a sad smile.

Bail leaned back, stunned. “Me? But—why me?” he asked bewildered.

“Know not, I do,” the Jedi said with a shrug. “Seen the future, he has. A future where saved his life, you did. Saved my life. Saved something too precious to name, you did. Matters little, it does. A future that must not come to pass, it is, even as learn from it. we do.”

“...I think you’re going to have to explain that somewhat,” Mon replied sternly as Bail’s head spun.

Yoda nodded and the three settled in for a sleepless night of planning treason.

Part XXIV

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years ago

Note

“ what good is heaven, when all i want is hell “ with Loki Laufeyson x reader, enemies to lovers

IN ANOTHER TIMELINE

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x reader WORDS: 1.4k (my hand slipped) SUMMARY: Stranded on Lamentis, the event of the impending apocalypse seem to mend the fire and fury between you and Loki as deeper feelings begin to come to light. A/N: Starting a fic with the f-word is such a classy move 😎Also, why the hell do I keep writing stuff that's angsty? And I replaced the words heaven and hell to fit the situation and their backgrounds a little more, I hope you don't mind. Thank you for requesting, nonny! WARNINGS: Swearing. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

“Fuck you.”

The profanity spits from your mouth, reflecting the spitfire of your personality. You’re like a raging fire that licks through everything in its way with ravenous swipes. Your eyes are sharp, needle-point orbs that prick his own. He would have to turn away from the overwhelming sense of a sting you leave without a care of the world. No touch or a strike to him, yet you have managed to bruise him all over again. It boils down to the only reason he hates you with as much passion as you portray. Forever caught in a time loop with you with the neverending raking of fire—taking turns playing Victory and Bucentaure.

You turn your back against him, hair swinging as it nearly flicks the tip of his nose. Loki staggers in his step as he watches you trudge through the rocky grounds, hiking up the slope of the crater. Moondust seems to shimmer under the violet hues of the imminent apocalypse as it billows into the air like puffs of smoke with every step of your feet, grazing upon the sand. He trails behind you, scoffing in response.

“I beg your pardon?”

Your hair swings again, angered eyes meeting his own. “You heard what I said. Fuck you. Fuck you for pulling me with you into this space rock. Fuck you for destroying our only way out of this mess.” The ground rumbles as falling meteorites leaving fiery streaks in the sky above cast an illusionary halo around your head, hair frizz untameable as you look down on him like you are some saint, some martyr.

He remembers you from his childhood in Asgard. You were an immaculate being. You still are.

The back of his earlobe itches, like an emotion, buried so deep in his brain, wanting to be set free. He knows you are beautiful. He knows that there’s a chance you would be a martyr with your undying faith and loyalty to the Sacred Timeline. You would die in battle for it.

He knows there’s a place for you in Valhalla.

He hates how intelligent you are. How valiant and habitually good-natured in an unpretentious way—you cast a shadow onto him, presenting his ways as fraudulent and outright evil. He tries so hard to do right but you don’t even have to try.

He hates the way you speak to him as if you know him better than he does. He hates that beautiful soul of yours. He hates how the both of you fall into a natural state of bickering, spitting words of hurt. He doesn’t mean any of them but, he doesn’t know whether you do.

All Loki knows is deny and refute.

He pulls himself out of the crater, watching you walk away with fast strides, almost stomping out of frustration. “Correction. I did not pull you with me onto Lamentis. I didn’t even know where it was going to take us. You had a knife to my throat so, it’s your fault we’re stranded here.”

You ignore him. You seem to be walking aimlessly and away from him rather than with purpose and an intention of a destination. Loki quickly catches up with your pace, stepping in front of you and in your way.

“Are you going to ignore me?”

His question comes off as desperate rather than derogatory to his surprise. Perhaps, experiencing an apocalyptic event tends to affect the mind’s filter. Perhaps, it’s the moon dust. Perhaps, it’s the imminent deafening feeling that Loki might want to be honest for once and wanting to be honest with you.

You abruptly halt in your step as your foot collides with his, wincing as you heave a deep exhale out of frustration. “Would you piss off just for one second!” you spit through gritted teeth. With a flash of daggered eyes to his, you continue trudging through moon rocks, shouldering him as you pass by.

Presently, questions were the only thoughts that filled his mind and were the ones that left his scowled lips. Questions don’t provide answers. They avoid the truth that waits to be freed from the chaos of his brain.

Living up to his true nature of existing as the very embodiment of annoyance in your presence, the one word he questions seemed to have triggered the ticking time bomb in you, resetting it to a shorter countdown until the bomb goes off

“What?”

A simple word. But, the tone makes all the difference. Still, he continues to trail closely behind you. The closeness makes you tick.

You whip your head to him. “What don’t you understand from what I just said? Or would you like me to translate it to language that’s best suited to your magnificence and eliteness?” Your voice is loud as you near him in a threatening manner, waving your hands in the air like he’s some flying pest. “Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes, thy majesty!”

If it weren’t for the situation, he would have laughed at how dramatic you were being. Even in anger and hatred, sarcasm still plays an important role in your language and how you express yourself.

He lets you walk away this time but, you don’t stray too far. There’s a rock emerging from the sand, shaped like a slab. You find rest there, sitting by its edge as you watch the city begin to submerge in flames and destruction, accompanied by the screams of its citizens. Death is inevitable but cursed as it could be beautiful.

Moments pass, he watches the back of your still figure. He knows to give you time, to give you space. When ragged breaths have turned to slow ones, you become your true self.

Despite the long-lasting feud between the two of you, there’s a sense of hidden comfort when in each other’s presence. When two people are so often melancholy and lonely, it’s only natural for the two to want to fill the gap that’s been left open from before.

Odin knows you don’t hate each other but only acted as a disguise to the feeling of unrequited love and yearning that remains unknown to the both of you.

Loki finds himself drifting closer to you, lingering by the foot of the stone you sit on. Then, in silence, he watches you shift to the side discreetly, making space for him beside you.

This time, he doesn’t question. He only accepts.

Loki settles beside you, closer than he’d imagined. It’s strange when you’re not wanting to kill him.

Suddenly, your voice cuts through the silence, barely audible with the thunderous crashing of rocks that shower around you. “You know, if we do die here, you’re never going to make it to Valhalla.”

He’s quiet, pursing his lips in thought.

He knows there’s a place for you in Valhalla. Even if it isn’t in battle. You don’t deserve the underworld. The underworld doesn’t deserve you.

“Neither will you.”

You simply hum. “What good is Valhalla...when all I want is Hel?”

There’s a hint of humor in your tone and Loki finds himself staring at your cheek. You’re turned away from him but the despondency in your expression is clear under the bursts of meteorites across the sky as the fractured planet drifts closer to Lamentis.

“Do you really mean that?” You turn to him, brows furrowed. He continues, “Do you really want to go to Hel?”

You shake your head, gaze falling to the ground. “I know I belong there.”

The two fall into silence once more. It isn’t deafening but consoling to two beings attempting to hide the growing fear of the end.

Loki has died before but never this way.

Then, you gently nudge him with your elbow. “Maybe in another timeline, we would have gotten along.”

There’s a smile playing upon your lips. It’s small but it’s there.

Loki smiles at you, too.

“Or if we had more time.”

He takes your hand in his, fingers intertwined with your own. You shut your eyes, trying to memorize the warmth of his touch.

The ground beneath you rumbles once more.

You hold him just a little tighter, breath hitched as the two of you watch the planet descending onto the grounds of Lamentis-1 with the sun casting shadows against the purple hues of the sky.

At that moment in time, you’re just two beings in this universe, finally accepting their fate. Finally, accepting their love.

#happy 1000!#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki series #loki spoilers #loki imagine #loki oneshot #loki laufeyson oneshot

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 21 - ao3 -

When he woke, Lan Qiren expected to find everyone talking about what had happened.

He might have even preferred that, despite the cost it would undoubtedly do to his personal reputation; instead, he found that the entire incident had been largely covered up, with even Lan Yueheng uncertain as to what had caused Lan Qiren’s injury other than that it involved some sort of dispute with his brother. That a mangled version of the story had not spread was as sure a sign as anything that He Kexin, whatever her faults or reckless willingness to act on assumptions with little base in reality, had in fact explained what had really happened, and that his brother had decided that he wouldn’t permit her reputation to be tainted by her actions.

Anyone might have expected the honorable Qingheng-jun to have apologized to Lan Qiren at that point for his own reckless assumptions, but his brother had not. On the contrary, he had left orders for Lan Qiren to be punished for breaching the rules of hospitality in striking an honored guest, and for violating several other rules not publicly specified.

Lan Qiren could imagine which ones his brother had in mind.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” Lan Qiren said to his teachers, blankly staring down at the punishment order, written in his brother’s hand. He hadn’t even been given the courtesy of being told about it to his face, as anyone might have expected, nor allowed the opportunity to defend or justify himself; he had been summarily sentenced in a note. “I really didn’t.”

His music teacher and his swordsmanship teacher both looked uncomfortable and awkward, each one clearly aware of the breach of protocol taking place – and, given their position as sect elders and honored teachers, very likely the actual facts of what had occurred. They knew that the only thing he was being punished over was for having the misfortune of being selected as the tool for He Kexin’s scheme, and his brother’s order – vastly excessive for a breach of the sort listed as the reason, given the usual standard of punishments – was due only to his own embarrassment and chagrin, and maybe his jealousy that Lan Qiren had unwillingly gotten even a little of the attention he so greatly desired and could not have. And yet, despite that…

“He is your sect leader,” one of them, the latter, said, and if his voice was a little regretful, it was also cold and passionless. “He has issued punishment. Are you defying his order?”

Lan Qiren’s hands were like fists on his knees. “Where is my brother?” he asked. He didn’t think an appeal would be a good idea, even if he were technically entitled to it – it’d be futile, unless his brother abruptly realized how foolish he was being – but he would be fine with it if only the answer wasn’t…

“With Rogue Cultivator He. She has agreed to give him another chance.”

Lan Qiren bit his lip and looked down. He did not like He Kexin, and not only because she had so grossly transgressed against him in an obvious attempt to convince his brother not to like her any longer – an attempt that, given the extent of his brother’s love-madness, probably wouldn’t have worked even if Lan Qiren hadn’t been utterly repulsed by the idea of bedding his brother’s prospective bride – and the idea of her giving his brother another chance at this point, even after having done so much to try to make him go away…

Perhaps she liked men that fought over her, he thought bitterly. Or perhaps it was only that she appreciated how much of his love she had for him to treat his younger brother as nothing on her behalf - though if that was what she was thinking, she was sorely mistaken.

“Something will need to be done about my brother’s behavior,” he said, looking up at them desperately. “You must know that this is not sustainable, honored teachers.”

“That is not your concern,” his swordsmanship teacher said, while his music teacher merely looked sad and helpless, as if what was happening was a force of nature that could not be quelled or diverted, and not merely a single man’s inappropriate behavior. “Will you accept the punishment? Or do you intend to defy the sect leader’s order?”

Lan Qiren shook his head mutely, and went to the discipline hall.

Afterwards, Lan Yueheng scurried in after him, shoving a healing pill into Lan Qiren’s mouth and holding his mouth shut until he swallowed it. “You should go,” he said, glancing around anxiously. “You don’t want to be here any longer than you have to.”

“You assume I don’t have to,” Lan Qiren said, still shaking from the pain. He’d never gotten that many strikes all at once, not in his life; he could barely stand unaided, and leaned on Lan Yueheng gratefully. “I’m supposed to kneel and meditate on my actions for three days –”

“You can do that somewhere else!”

Lan Qiren shook his head.

But for once Lan Yueheng was right and he was wrong. On the first two days of his punishment, he saw his brother pass by the discipline hall in an excellent mood, his ‘second chance’ with He Kexin going better than he had hoped – according to the gossip Lan Qiren overheard, apparently she did like it when handsome men fought for her and believed in her, and moreover apparently one of her friends had intervened on his behalf – but on the third day, just as he was about to complete his penance for crimes he had not committed, his brother returned suddenly in a fury over some setback. In a bout of bad luck and bad timing, he saw Lan Qiren just as he was making his way out of the hall, and in a fit of temper he had extended his order from one set of strikes to two, even though such a retrospective revision of punishment was contrary to both the letter and spirit of the rules.

He was the sect leader, though. According to the rules Lan Yi had set down so many years ago, as sect leader, he was entitled to vary the rules if he felt the need to do so.

This time, when the punishment was done, Lan Qiren hauled himself out of there, using the wall and sheer willpower to force his shaking legs to carry him, and stiffly announced to the teacher supervising punishments that he planned to meditate in penance in the Cold Spring instead of the discipline hall.

It was technically against the stricter interpretations of discipline, since he’d been punished to kneel, not meditate, but the Cold Spring was known to have recuperative and pain-easing properties as well as acting as an aid to cultivation; his teachers, which had overseen his punishment for the second time with tightly pressed lips signifying disapproval that meant nothing if they were unwilling to take any action to stop it, did not dispute him, and with a nod his freedom was assured.

Lan Qiren had a brief moment of disquiet when he got there and realized that he would have to strip off his clothing in order to bathe – he’d only had enough time to wash himself since the incident with He Kexin, and a quick scrub in the cold air did not leave time to worry about who might try to find him while he lacked a protective layer of clothing – but with a deep breath he reminded himself that he, unlike his brother, would not allow his life to be governed by He Kexin’s whims. Anyway, it would be unhealthy to wade in with all his clothing on; the wet cloth would serve only to make him feel colder and get less benefit out of the water’s healing properties. Even if his golden core was strong enough to resist most of the negative effects of catching cold, there was no need to tempt fate.

He put his clothing somewhere he could easily see it, tucking his access token into the clothing in such a way that summoning the token would drag along the robe as well, and then unsteadily entered the water, wincing at the bracing chill as he sank down until he was neck-deep in the water, settling himself in the proper position to meditate. Or, well, to sit blankly and wait for there to be a little less pain: even putting aside the severity, it was also the first time he’d ever been subject to back-to-back punishments in such a reckless fashion. Lack of treatment after a punishment was fairly standard if the sentence also included kneeling – technically, Lan Yueheng shouldn’t have given him a pill to encourage healing, and Lan Qiren shouldn’t have accepted it, although doing so was not a major breach. Moreover, given that the teachers had ignored it rather than adding on any additional punishment, it might even be seen as having been subtly countenanced.

Lan Qiren rather wished he had one now.

Or Lan Yueheng, for that matter. Or even Cangse Sanren, far away in Yunmeng, or Lao Nie, or someone, anyone, who would be friendly and take his side, even –

“Lan Qiren?”

Lan Qiren blinked, surprised to note that the angle of the light had changed considerably; he must have fallen asleep or otherwise drifted off. Or perhaps he was still asleep, because why else would he be hearing Wen Ruohan’s slow drawling tone saying his name in the middle of the Cloud Recesses?

“Ah, little Lan,” the man himself said, gliding out of the mist that surrounded the Cold Spring like a wraith. “There you are.”

Lan Qiren stared at him mutely. “You’re – here.”

It didn’t feel real. How could Wen Ruohan be here?

“I am,” Wen Ruohan said, his lips curved in his usual arrogant expression, the one that said I don’t care what you think of me. “Or am I expected to await your invitation in the future?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said, because he felt even less in control of anything to do with his sect than he had been when he’d been its second young master, even though he was now the presumptive heir. His vision of Wen Ruohan blurred and briefly doubled; he blinked to clear it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Even if it was true.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes briefly widened, and then he smirked, looking delighted by the admission. “So you missed me after all,” he said, his voice low and intimate; one might almost call it a purr. “Ah, my stubborn little brother…”

Lan Qiren briefly closed his eyes. Had his brother ever referred to him directly like that? He couldn’t remember if he had.

He wished that it had been some single moment in time, some rash act, that had driven his blood brother, born of the same father and mother, so far away from him. He even wished that it was something that he had done so that it could be something he might fix, might repair with apologies and penance, but he knew that it wasn’t.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that Wen Ruohan had come closer, prowling along the edge of the Cold Spring with his red eyes fixed on Lan Qiren. His pace, as always, was slow and steady – it felt inexorable, unstoppable, and Lan Qiren did nothing to stop him, watching blankly as he came forward, crouching down right beside the place where Lan Qiren was sitting beneath the water.

“Little Lan,” Wen Ruohan purred. “My little Lan…”

He reached out, his long-nailed fingers tracing down along Lan Qiren’s cheek, as light as snowflakes, and down to his chin, catching it in a strong grip and turning his face to look up at Wen Ruohan. His thumb brushed against Lan Qiren’s lips.

Lan Qiren swallowed. It had been, he thought, too long since he had felt the touch of someone who wished him well, or indeed anyone at all; he had missed it more than he had realized.

Wen Ruohan noticed, and his smirk widened.

“I heard a rumor that you had been caught in attempted adultery,” he remarked. “I didn’t believe it, of course, and no one else did, either – but I had to come see for myself.”

“I didn’t,” Lan Qiren croaked. His voice felt strangled and inexplicably hoarse, and he found himself absently calculating distances in the back of his mind: Wen Ruohan must have left the Nightless City for the Cloud Recesses the very moment he received the report from his spies on what had happened in order to be here now. “I really – didn’t.”

“I believe you,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding cool and amused. “It didn’t really seem like something that my little Lan would do. My little Lan, who missed me so…”

Lan Qiren tried to turn his head away, not wanting to see the smug satisfaction in Wen Ruohan’s voice and face and manner – Wen Ruohan hadn’t won, he thought stubbornly to himself. Lan Qiren hadn’t given up on his conviction that such torture was wrong or that Wen Ruohan was wrong in engaging in it. It was only that Lan Qiren was tired and in pain, and willing to accept comfort from just about anyone.

Wen Ruohan wouldn’t let him turn away, though, and overpowered his weak movement easily.

“Don’t fret,” he said coaxingly. “I missed you, too.”

That sounded nice.

“I must admit, I tried not to. I thought to myself that if you were so foolish as to turn away from me, the consequences should be on your own head, nothing to do with me. But despite my best efforts, you were never far from my thoughts…”

Wen Ruohan’s hand released Lan Qiren’s chin and drifted down to his throat, lightly pressing his nails against his skin as if examining how the color changed when he did. He moved closer, too close for Lan Qiren to see him clearly given the mist and the angle; his second hand fell upon Lan Qiren’s shoulder, while his first continued to drift down, skating along his collarbone, drifting over to his side –

His touch slid across one of the stray bruises left over from his punishment.

Lan Qiren flinched.

That was a bad idea, of course. The involuntary reflex moved his body too quickly, straining all his other cuts and bruises, and the spike of pain from that made him gasp and instinctively curl up. His vision briefly whited out, and he struggled to control his breathing, keeping it slow and shallow to let the pain pass over him.

After a moment that felt overly long, his vision cleared. When it did, he became aware that Wen Ruohan’s fingers were pressed to his brow in the place between his eyes, transferring warm qi to him in such a torrent that it almost hurt; Lan Qiren lifted up a hand to stop him.

Wen Ruohan was faster than him, though, and he pulled away his hand and caught Lan Qiren’s, pulling it up to examine the bruising that was already appearing on the back of his arm – stray marks, in the main part, since the majority were on his back, between his neck and thighs. “What happened?” he asked, voice sharp. “How did you get these wounds?”

Lan Qiren looked at him in bewilderment: was this not the same man he had seen twist human beings into shapes their bodies could not bear, burn them with fire and slice them into bits? Why would he care so much over a few bruises and cuts, the marks left behind by unyielding wood when it struck flesh, instruments of discipline used a thousand times over in every single sect?

“You know already,” he said, unable to keep the slight tone of plaintive accusation out of his voice. “You said you believed me…”

Wen Ruohan stared at him, expression strangely blank, and then in a single gesture he pulled Lan Qiren up to a standing position, waist-deep in the water and choking on the pain of it, back bent forward like a bow, the worst of the marks now visible to Wen Ruohan’s burning gaze.

“What is this?” he demanded.

It wasn’t really a question that needed answering, and he wasn’t really asking, not anymore, but Lan Qiren responded regardless: “Punishment.”

Wen Ruohan’s hand was tight on his wrist.

“For what?” he snarled, and he sounded furious. Lan Qiren didn’t know if he’d ever heard Wen Ruohan sound this angry - he didn’t know if anyone alive had heard him be this angry, and if they had whether they’d survived the experience. “It is impossible that you actually bedded your brother’s lover. So what possible reason could they have for punishing you?”

“He’s my sect leader,” Lan Qiren said groggily. His head was starting to hurt; he had exited the cold water too quickly. “Does he need a reason?”

The hand on his wrist tightened still further. Lan Qiren would probably have bruises there in the morning as well, equally undeserved - but he minded these far less.

At least Wen Ruohan was angry on his behalf.

“Qingheng-jun is daring indeed,” Wen Ruohan said, his voice as smooth as silk and as dark as a moonless night. “To think he can act with impunity to anyone he wishes, even going so far as to harm one with whom I share an oath –”

“…do you?”

Wen Ruohan stopped. “Share an oath with you?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said. His head lolled a little, and he found that somewhere along the line he had been drawn into Wen Ruohan’s arms, making it easy to rest his head on the other man’s shoulder. Wen Ruohan was overly warm, as always; his sect always preferred cultivation techniques involving yang energy and fire – it wasn’t a surprise, not really, but it was unexpected how pleasant it was. “Need a reason.” He shook his head a little. “You hurt people, too.”

“You are not just any person,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re my little brother.”

“I’m his little brother, too.”

He felt Wen Ruohan’s hand, blazingly hot against his water-chilled body, come to rest on his hair.

“You were born with poor luck in brothers, little Lan,” he said, his breath warm against Lan Qiren’s ear. It was as if all the heat in the world was contained in his body, and Lan Qiren capable only of leeching off of it. “Not just him, but me as well; we each fail you in turn. I will not apologize for having bound you to me, for I do not regret it – but I will endeavor to make it up to you.”

Surrounded by all that warmth, Lan Qiren drifted off to sleep.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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