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pucksandpower · 7 months ago

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Hypnotized

Lando Norris x hypnotherapist!Reader

Summary: in which Lando becomes intimately familiar with the professional (and not so professional) benefits of hypnosis

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent (though Lando is very much a willing participant), and temporary mindbreak

You lean back in your plush leather chair, taking a sip of tea as you look over the notes for your next client. Lando Norris — a rising star of Formula 1, seeking help to improve his performance on the track. You’ve worked with elite athletes before, but there’s something about this case that intrigues you.

The door opens and he strides in, radiating youthful confidence. “Ms. Y/L/N, thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Please, have a seat Lando. And call me Y/N,” you reply with a warm smile. “I have to admit, when your team reached out, I was surprised. Most drivers come to me later in their careers when the mental side gets tougher.”

He settles onto the couch across from you. “Yeah, well, I’m a bit of an overachiever,” he grins cheekily. “I figure I should get every advantage I can while I’m young.”

You can’t help but be charmed by his boyish cockiness. “Fair enough. So, walk me through what’s bringing you here. What are you hoping hypnotherapy can do for you?”

Lando scratches his head, suddenly looking a bit sheepish. “To be honest, I’m not totally sure? The team psychologists have helped with some stuff like visualization and confidence building. But I feel like there’s still … I don’t know, another level I can’t quite tap into?”

He pauses, cheeks reddening slightly. “I may have also heard some … rumors about hypnosis helping drivers get, uh, in the zone in a different way.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “I see. And what sort of zone were you hoping to reach exactly?”

“Just, you know, being totally focused. Primed to perform at my absolute peak,” he answers quickly, not meeting your eyes. “Eliminate any lingering doubts or hesitation.”

“Mmmhmm,” you murmur, watching his fidgeting increase. It’s clear there’s more to this, perhaps some adolescent fantasy driven by locker room talk. You decide to have a bit of fun drawing it out.

“Well, maximum focus and confidence under extreme stress is certainly one of the primary benefits of hypnotherapy for athletes. Though of course, there can be … other effects depending on the suggestions given.”

Lando’s eyes flick up to meet yours, pupils dilating with obvious intrigue. “Other effects? Like what?”

You shrug lightly. “Oh, lowered inhibition, increased susceptibility to instructions, compulsions to obey ...” You trail off, letting the implications hang in the air. “But I’m sure whatever rumors you’ve heard are just overblown exaggerations.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “R-right, of course. So, uh, how would we go about getting me in that totally focused zone?”

You can scarcely suppress a grin — he’s hooked now, curiosity and hormones getting the better of him. “Well, first we’d need to get you in a deeply relaxed state, open and receptive to suggestions. I’d start with some deep breathing exercises, maybe have you focus on the sound of my voice ...”

Unconsciously, Lando’s eyelids grow heavier as you speak in a low, soothing tone. “Breath slowly deepening, muscles going deliciously loose and limp ...”

He blinks hard, shaking his head minutely. “Sorry, what was I saying?”

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “A little taste of just how quickly you might respond. Hypnotic states can sneak up quite easily when you’re not prepared for them.”

Lando swallows again, but there’s no hiding the interest smoldering in his eyes now. “That’s … good to know. So, uh, once I was in this state, what sort of suggestions would you give?”

You lean forward, holding his gaze. “Anything you need, darling. Perhaps prompts to fill your mind with dizzying focus — a white hot, all-consuming need to push every limit and achieve perfection. Or maybe something to strip away distractions and doubts, leaving you deliciously pliant and desperate to follow instructions without hesitation ...”

His breath catches as ripples of arousal play across his features. You’ve dangled the bait thoroughly now, time to reel him in.

“Of course, that’s all just theoretical for an athlete like you,” you continue lightly. “I’m sure you’d only want suggestions tailored for pure professional benefit.”

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it, visibly wrestling with indecision. Finally, he sits up straight, jaw setting in boyish determination.

“Actually … I think maybe exploring some of those other effects could be useful too. You know, for full preparation.”

You bite back a smile — he’s all bravado again, feigning nonchalance. How delicious.

“Well, if you’re certain. We should probably start with a simple induction and suggestion, see how you respond.”

Rising from your chair, you cross the room to where he sits, movements slow and deliberate. Lando’s eyes are immediately drawn to the sway of your hips, the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying his arousal.

“Just relax and look into my eyes ...” you murmur, voice dropping an octave as you hold up a pendant and begin tracing figure eights before his face. “Let your mind follow the path of the pendulum, breathing slowly … in and out ...”

His pupils blown wide, Lando is soon leaning back bonelessly, mouth slightly ajar. A few dazed blinks is all the resistance he offers as you trail featherlight touches down his arm.

“There’s a good boy … nice and open, isn’t it? Let everything else fall away except the need to please me.”

A shudder wracks his frame and you can see the tendons in his neck straining, fighting the compulsion already worming into his psyche. But his eyes remain locked on yours, drowning in your control.

“I … I want to ...” he stammers helplessly.

“Shhhh,” you soothe, bending closer so that your lips nearly brush his ear. “You don’t need to worry about what you want anymore. That’s my choice now, understood?”

He gives a tiny nod and you feel a surge of heady power.

“Such a good boy. And to reward your obedience, you’re going to take off your shirt. Slowly ...”

There’s a moment of tension, then Lando raises trembling hands to grasp the hem of his shirt. You can see the mottled flush spreading across his torso as inch by inch it’s revealed to you. His breath is coming in ragged pants by the time the shirt drops to the floor, chest heaving with mingled want and shame.

“Very nice,” you practically purr. “I can see you’re already feeling the compulsions seeping in. Should we make them … deeper?”

His head bobs dumbly and you laugh, low and throaty.

“That’s what I thought. Now, lay back for me ...”

Lando immediately obeys, body going pliant and helpless. You pull over an ottoman, sitting so you can gently straddle his hips, relishing the hitch in his breath as your heat settles against him.

“You’re going to do absolutely everything I say without hesitation or doubt,” you whisper harshly, watching him shudder. “Any instructions, no matter what they may be, you’ll follow with desperate enthusiasm.”

He whimpers, hips twitching upwards in mute plea. Grasping his jaw firmly, you force his eyes to yours.

“This is for your own good, darling. We need to burn away every last shred of selfishness and pride so you can ascend to true, shattering focus. You understand, don’t you?”

“Y-yes … yes,” he slurs, already sinking deeper into degrading bliss.

You reward him with a slow, filthy grind of your hips and he cries out unabashedly. Everywhere your hands and mouth worship his skin, you can feel the tremors of arousal and surrender.

“That’s perfect,” you murmur against the hollow of his throat. “Now, I want you to strip the rest of the way ...”

Before the words have fully left your lips, Lando is frantically shucking his pants and boxers, whining as his flushed length bobs free. The brazen lust and need in his hooded eyes would be shocking from the bashful newbie you met earlier.

You give an approving hum, thrilling at how quickly your control has already remade him. One fingernail traces along rigid flesh and he bucks shamelessly into your touch.

“You’re being such a good boy. I think it’s time we really sealed this new role into your head. Imagine the most dizzying, overwhelming orgasm you’ve ever had, multiplied a hundredfold ...”

His eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent wail at just the suggestion. You grip him firmly, relishing the desperate whine that bursts from his lips.

“You’re going to come like that, harder than you ever dreamed. And as the lightning arcs of bliss engulf your entire being, all that pleasure will become inextricably entwined with an overwhelming need to obey my every whim ...”

Lando is panting and keening, hips pumping up into your tight fist. You can feel his body straining closer to that precipice, cords of muscle standing out in sharp relief. With a final brutal stroke, you growl the trigger words,

“Come for me, love!”

His back bows in a silent scream, mouth frozen in rapturous torment. You gentle him through each shuddering pulse, ensuring every layer of consciousness is saturated with soul-shattering ecstasy and the new compulsions you’ve locked within.

At last, he sags back to the couch, eyes glassy and unfocused. You bend close, lips caressing the damp hair at his temple.

“Tell me, darling, how does it feel to be remade into perfection?”

He blinks slowly, lips curving in a blissful smile. “I … I need to obey ...” he slurs dozily. “Please … use me however you desire ...”

You chuckle darkly, letting nails rake over his sensitized flesh and making him buck weakly. “Oh I will, lover. I’m going to take you to shattering new heights of surrender. You won’t be able to so much as enter the cockpit without shuddering need to please me foremost in your mind ...”

His only response is a quiet whimper, eyes already slipping shut in sated exhaustion, completely yours to reshape however you wish.

You settle back, excitement thrilling through you at all the delicious possibilities stretching ahead.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you make your way through the paddock area towards the McLaren motorhome at the British Grand Prix. Fans press eagerly against the barriers lining the path, craning for a glimpse of their racing idols as they’re escorted by burly security guards.

You keep your head held high, unruffled by the frenzy of flashing cameras and shouted requests for autographs as you stride confidently alongside Lando.

He casts you a sidelong glance, the excited energy thrumming off him in waves. “Thanks for being here, Y/N,” he murmurs with a small, bashful smile. “Having you in my corner calms my nerves a bit.”

You reach out to give his arm a reassuring squeeze, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Your voice takes on a slightly teasing lilt as you add, “Besides, this way I can provide my … specialized services should you require them before the race.”

A dusky flush steals across Lando’s cheeks at your words, his eyes darkening in a way that sends a curl of heat unfurling low in your belly. Before he can respond, one of the crew members is ushering you both towards a nondescript door.

With a nod of thanks, Lando pushes through the door, allowing you to enter the modestly appointed room first before following and securing it behind you.

The space is small yet functional — equipped with a well-worn sofa situated before a large television displaying timing data, along with an armchair tucked into the corner. Your gaze lands on the single bed shoved against the far wall and you suddenly find it difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat.

“Sorry about the mess,” Lando says almost sheepishly, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “I haven’t exactly had much time to tidy up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmur distractedly, already hyper-aware of the thick tension charging the air between your bodies, crackling like a livewire in the small distance separating you.

Lando opens his mouth as if to speak, then seems to think better of it, shuffling his feet almost bashfully. You can practically see the thoughts whirring at a million miles an hour behind his furrowed brow, weighing him down as nerves and doubts threaten to shatter his hard-won focus.

Without a word, you close the distance between you, cradling his face in your hands to force him to meet your gaze.

“Let me help you,” you breathe, your voice low and gentle yet laced with that commanding tone he can never seem to resist.

He immediately melts into your touch, the taut lines of stress slowly easing from his features. “Please,” he whispers back, every inch of nervous energy and kinetic vibration seeming to melt from his body as your thumbs trace soothing patterns across the sharp planes of his cheekbones. “Need you to clear my mind.”

A soft, fond smile curves your lips at the naked entreaty in his tone. This man — so cocky and confident in most aspects of life, yet so unguarded and sweetly vulnerable when it’s just the two of you.

You continue your tender ministrations, watching in rapt fascination as his eyes drift shut and his breathing grows steady and even. When you finally speak, your words are low and hypnotic, the timbre of your voice wrapping around Lando like a warm blanket ushering him down, down into delicious oblivion.

“That’s it, darling … let yourself sink deeper with each breath. Shut out all the noise and distractions — everything except my voice guiding you. Focus on the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle thump of your heartbeat … allow your body to grow heavy and pliant as you let me take the lead ...”

He shivers slightly, yielding fully to your hypnotic trance with a soft, contented exhalation. In this blissed-out state, his features are lax and utterly at peace, the hard lines of tension and worry melting away until he looks almost cherubic.

“There you are,” you can’t help but murmur in approval, trailing your fingertips along the sharp line of his jaw. “So perfect and calm for me.” Your gaze rakes over the long fans of his lashes fanning across his cheekbones, the full pout of his lips parted ever so slightly on deep, even breaths. He looks utterly debauched, despite the fact that you’ve barely even touched him yet.

Unable to resist such temptation any longer, you bend to capture Lando’s lips in a slow kiss — gentle at first, then deepening into something more heated, more ravenous as your tongue sweeps into the heat of his mouth to tangle with his own.

He remains completely pliant beneath your wandering hands and questing mouth, body thrumming with blissful surrender as you map every lush inch of him.

Finally, breathless and flushed, you tear your mouth from his with a soft groan of regret. “God, darling … what you do to me ...” you murmur, trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the stubbled line of his jaw, down the taut cords of his neck. “Just seeing you like this, so gorgeous and willing … falling so deep for me … I could take you right here like this and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

You scrape your teeth over that sensitive patch of skin just below his ear and he trembles almost violently, a low whine spilling past his lips even as his head lolls back to allow you better access. When you press an openmouthed kiss to his wildly fluttering pulse point, his voice comes out low and syrupy sweet.

“Please, Y/N … please ...” he slurs in a breathy exhale, body arching reflexively into yours as his hands come up to clutch at your hips in a silent entreaty.

A frisson of lust races down your spine at his wanton plea, stoking the simmering ember of arousal into a roaring blaze. How quickly his mind has slipped into a glorious, aching haze of want and need for your touch.

You could so easily press your advantage right now — undress him with exquisite slowness, bend him over and take him in delirious new ways that would leave him utterly incoherent. The mental images alone are nearly enough to make you growl in feral possessiveness.

Somehow, you manage to retain a herculean thread of control, nuzzling against the heated skin of Lando’s neck as you press him gently yet insistently towards the bed until the backs of his thighs hit the mattress and he sinks onto the soft cotton sheets with a dazed exhale. His eyes are molten embers burning with naked want and trust as he gazes up at you, outright trembling with the effort of holding himself back from hauling you down on top of him.

Gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his brow, you settle yourself to straddle his lap, reveling in the delicious points of heated skin against skin where your bodies make contact through the thin barrier of your clothing. For an aching span of heartbeats, you drink in the sight of him — kiss-swollen lips parted on shallow pants, the tempting vee of his open shirt collar exposing just a tantalizing sliver of his smooth chest, hard planes of muscle rippling beneath tanned skin as he quivers with ill-restrained desire.

“Beautiful,” you husk in a low rasp, summoning every ounce of your rapidly waning willpower to force the words past the molten heat in your throat. “You are so fucking beautiful like this.”

Lando swallows thickly at the unadulterated lust and reverence saturating your tone, his throat bobbing convulsively. “You … you should see yourself,” he finally manages in a strained murmur. “You’re a goddess ...” His hands come up of their own volition to splay across the supple curves of your waist, tracing searing paths across your skin as if to memorize every lush dip and swell.

A throaty chuckle escapes you as you lean into his touch in shameless encouragement. “I could devour you in this moment and I’d still crave more.” Dipping your head to drag openmouthed kisses along the salty-sweet skin of his collarbone, you muse heatedly, “In fact, I’m tempted to lock that door and have you right here like the decadent treat you are.”

“God, yes ...” Lando outright groans at your words, hips arching up in a desperate, instinctual grind against yours that leaves you both shuddering at the sudden, intoxicating friction. His fingers curl into the soft flesh of your hips, pupil-blown eyes full of unrestrained need as he gazes up at you like you’re the answer to his every secret desire. “Please, Y/N … anything, just … need you.”

The reverent, naked pleading in his voice steals the breath from your lungs and you’re abruptly reminded of the singular responsibility you have — not just as his lover, but as the person he’s entrusted to guide and ground him when he’s spiraling.

Your mouth curves into an indulgent smile as you tenderly cradle his face in your palms, tapping into that core of composure and peace that helps tether you both in moments like this.

“In due time, my love,” you murmur, leaning in to pepper slow, lingering kisses across his brow, along the delicate skin beneath his eyes. You feel Lando physically sink back against the mattress with a soft exhalation as your tender ministrations lull him once more into a state of relaxation and receptivity — his mind clearing of everything but blissful focus on you and your touch.

“Remember why you’re here, and all the hard work that brought you to this moment,” you continue in a low, soothing murmur against his flushed skin. “You’ve poured your heart and soul into this dream, and now it’s time to reap the sweet fruit of your efforts. Leave behind all the doubts, all the fear and anxious energy that’s been holding you back.” Arching up on your knees, you gently resettle your weight so you’re seated flush against his core, waves of heat radiating between your joined bodies in delicious waves with every motion and shallow breath.

“Let go of everything but my voice, my touch grounding you in this moment. This is your destiny, Lando — all you have to do is embrace it.” With your final murmured words, you seal the sentiment by slanting your mouth over his in a filthy, openmouthed kiss that quickly descends into pure, unbridled passion as he releases an unrestrained keen of surrender.

His arms come up to band around your waist, clutching you impossibly closer as if to merge your very beings into one searing point of euphoric light. You lose yourselves in the wet slide of tongue and teeth and racing heartbeats until the buzzing of Lando’s phone against the nearby nightstand finally jolts you from your haze of lust and need. For a suspended beat, you simply drink in the sight of him — debauched and beautifully wrecked in the best way possible, with slick lips parted around panting breaths and hair tousled in a riotous mess.

“Time?” Lando finally rasps, sounding as utterly gutted as you feel.

You force yourself to glance at the glowing numbers on his phone screen, steeling yourself against the surge of regret at having to end this delicious interlude. “Twenty minutes until you need to be in the garage,” you confirm with a heavy exhale.

With a low groan that goes straight to your core, Lando surges up to slant his mouth hungrily over yours once more in one last kiss goodbye before allowing you to carefully extract yourself from his lap. You both take a few moments to catch your breath and restore some semblance of outward composure, though your insides continue to feel like a lit match in a patch of dry tinder.

“Ready for this?” You arch a pointed brow at Lando as he pushes off the bed to put on his fireproofs and race suit with admirably steady hands, given how thoroughly unwound he had been mere moments ago.

He flashes you his trademark grin — though this time it holds an air of supreme confidence and purpose that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “Like you said … this is my destiny.” Pulling you close with one hand at the small of your back, he dips his head to murmur gratefully against your lips, “And you helped me find it today.”

With one final kiss that leaves you lightheaded, Lando turns to grab his water bottle and heads towards the door, every bit the consummate professional buckling down to handle the job at hand. You watch him go with a tender smile playing across your lips, filled with an irrational surge of pride at how far he’s come.

A few hours later, you’re holding your breath in the garage as Lando’s MCL38 comes screaming around the final turn and over the finish line — the checkered flag signaling his maiden victory at long last. From on top the podium, his elated gaze immediately finds yours through the throngs of people and hoisted champagne bottles.

The smile he bestows is so private and full of promise that warmth blossoms in your chest and your skin tingles deliciously in anticipation.

After the celebrations and press obligations have wound down, Lando nearly sprints off the track and back into the paddock area, lifting you clean off your feet in a tight embrace when he reaches you. His lips move feverishly against your own, words tumbling out in a reverent exhale barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you … I couldn’t have done it without you. God, I love you so much ...”

And in that perfect moment — drunk on the roar of the crowd, the giddy thrill of victory, and the smoldering promise in the depths of Lando’s eyes — you’re already mentally preparing to give him the most mind-blowing reward imaginable.

***

The champagne is still buzzing through your veins, lending an extra fizz of exhilaration to the crackling charge in the air as you hastily key into your hotel suite hand-in-hand with Lando.

No sooner has the door clicked shut behind you than he’s on you in a searing tangle of heat and desire — mouth hot and insistent, fingers skating across every bare inch of exposed skin as if he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the last oasis for miles.

“Fuck, Y/N ...” he rasps reverently against the fevered skin of your neck, pressing a hot, openmouthed kiss to your wildly fluttering pulse. “You’re incredible, so bloody perfect.” His hands roam hungrily, deftly stripping you of layer upon layer of clothing until you’re left deliciously bare before his molten gaze. “Let me worship you properly, yeah? God knows you deserve it after today.”

A tremor of need races through you at his naked desire, amplified tenfold by the molten timbre of Lando’s rough, lust-thickened voice. Without breaking eye contact, you hook your fingers through his belt loops and begin walking him back towards the lavish bedroom, relishing the sharp inhale he sucks through his teeth at your commanding confidence.

There’s a practiced, sensual arch to your spine as you work the tails of his crisp button-down free from the waistband of his trousers, taking your sweet time to pop each individual button until the smooth, tanned expanse of his torso is laid bare.

Warm fingertips trail an achingly slow path up the defined ridges of his abdomen as you drink in the sight of him — pupils blown wide with barely restrained want and that delicious lower lip caught between his teeth as his chest rises and falls with shallow stuttering pants.

“Is this what you want, darling?” You murmur silkily, palming him through the rapidly tenting fabric of his pants and delighting in the strangled whine that punches from his lips at the contact. His hands fly up to clutch convulsively at your hips, gripping with bruising force as if you’re his only lifeline in a raging sea of lust and sensation.

“Yes … please,” he forces out on a ragged exhale, body practically thrumming with desperation as you continue to work him with languid strokes while rocking your hips in a slow, sensual grind against his throbbing need.

The headiness of having this confident man quivering and needy at your touch sends a heady surge of possessive satisfaction coursing through you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely ...”

With a decadent hum, you deftly pop the button of Lando’s pants and drag the zipper down in one smooth motion, allowing his rigid cock to spring free at last, flushed and straining obscenely. You swipe your thumb through the pearlescent bead of precome gathered at the swollen tip, making his hips judder with desperate rolls at the stimulation.

“Y/N … fuck, I need … need your mouth ...” Lando grits out, tangling his fingers in your hair with a barely restrained growl.

You can’t help the low, sultry chuckle that spills past your lips at his feverish plea. “So impatient,” you tut, even as you sink gracefully to your knees before him, trailing openmouthed kisses along the hard ridges of his abdomen. “But you’ve been such a good boy for me lately, I suppose I can reward you.”

Another punched-out curse fractures the air as Lando’s head tips back on a low groan at the first hot lick of your tongue up the length of his rigid shaft. You take your sweet time working him over until his entire body is trembling with the effort of holding himself in check, fingers clenched white-knuckle tight in your hair.

“Look at you, so pretty for me,” you purr at him from beneath your lashes. “I wonder how quickly I could have you coming apart completely on my tongue.”

A broken, desperate whine escapes Lando at your words. “Fuck … I’m not gonna last,” he warns through gritted teeth.

With a final swirl of your tongue around the swollen crown of him, you pull off with a lush, obscene pop. “Don’t you dare hold back for me,” you murmur, voice dripping wanton sin as you tighten your grip at the base of his throbbing length to stave off the mounting waves of his building release. “I want to taste every … last … drop.”

The broken whine that tears itself from Lando’s throat quickly warps into a strangled shout of ecstasy as you hollow your cheeks and sink back down to take his aching cock as far as you can. He outright sobs your name over and over as you relentlessly work him undone with hollowed cheeks and swirls of your talented tongue — at this point he’s putty in your hands, helpless to do anything other than clutch at you and shatter apart.

You pull back with a filthy, slurping noise just as the first hot ropes of milky white spurt from his slit, painting your tongue and lips with thick, viscous streaks. A guttural groan rumbles up from his chest at the shamelessly lewd sight, cock giving one final twitch against your lips as you swallow greedily, lapping and sucking every musky drop from his overstimulated flesh.

His knees nearly buckle at the over-the-top eroticism of it all, hands knotting tighter in your hair as if the grounding points of contact are all that’s keeping him anchored to this mortal plane.

Only once you’ve thoroughly wrung him dry with your mouth and tongue do you sit back on your heels, swiping the back of your hand across your swollen, well-used lips to clean away the remnant beads of his climax. Each breath Lando sucks into his heaving lungs is like molten fire in his tortured chest, his pupils still dilated as he gazes down in awe and not a small amount of reverence at where you’re tucked so demurely between his parted thighs.

“Bloody fucking hell, love,” he rasps around a breathy, disbelieving puff of laughter. “C’mere, lemme return the favor … I need to taste you in the worst way.”

His words go straight to your rapidly tightening core, sending a fresh gush of slick arousal pooling between your thighs. You allow him to haul you up by your elbows and press you into the plush mattress, surrendering to his hot, open-mouthed kisses and seeking hands as he divests you completely of your last shreds of clothing.

When his tongue finally finds your drenched center, you keen high and helpless in the back of your throat. “Oh god, Lando … yes, just like that ...”

Lando answers your breathless encouragement by burying his tongue deeper into your grasping heat with a satisfied groan. The wildly intimate stretch and stimulation of his clever licks and kitten flicks against your swollen bud quickly has you squirming and thrashing against the mattress in a glorious, overstimulated daze.

All you can do is pant and whimper encouragements, fingers tangling unconsciously in his thick chestnut locks as you rock yourself shamelessly into his mouth.

Just when you think the maddening coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter deep in your core can’t possibly grow any tighter, Lando slips two long fingers inside your slick, fluttering entrance with a guttural groan of satisfaction. The fullness of the dual sensations instantly has you seizing up all over, back arching off the bed as he works you over with sure, steady strokes.

“Oh fuck, fuck me … Lando, you feel … so g-good, ungh!” The inarticulate stream of praise and curses rapidly devolves into broken moans as he relentlessly pistons his fingers in and out, strumming insistently against that spongy cluster of nerves with each punishing thrust. You’re quickly rendered mindless, nothing but a writhing, desperate bundle of raw need and want with every nerve alight at his exquisite touch.

When Lando’s lips finally close over your pulsing clit and suckle hard, your entire world shatters into stardust with the force of your climax. A hoarse shout rips from deep in your chest as the coil within you finally detonates in waves of dizzying, toe-curling pleasure that seem to go on and on and on. Lando works you through it all with his plush mouth and tireless fingers, lapping up the honeyed rush of your release like a man dying of thirst.

For several long, blissful moments, the only sounds are your mingled gasps and pants for air as you float hazily down from your high. Lando’s lips trail scorching paths along the inside of your trembling thighs, nuzzling and nipping at sensitive flesh before finally lifting his head to grace you with that familiar adoring look that never fails to make your heartbeat trip.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, love,” he drags his index finger through the slick mess coating his chin and lips. With a blatantly filthy leer that sends a shiver of fresh arousal cascading down your spine, he slips the digit into his mouth and sucks it clean with a rumbling groan of satisfaction. “Delicious.”

You’re still totally wrecked and incoherent from your release, every nerve in your body humming and jangling in the aftermath like overstimulated livewires. A punched-out moan manages to escape you at his brazen obscenity as your hips lift off the bed in an instinctual, needful grind. “Inside me. Need y-you inside ...”

Lando rises over you in one fluid, graceful motion, hips slotting effortlessly between your splayed thighs as he brackets your face between his large palms, drinking you in hungrily. “God, look at you — you’re fucking glorious like this, wrecked and desperate for me,” he murmurs in a low rasp, cock dragging slickly through your sopping folds to nudge insistently at your entrance. “How do you do this to me, huh? Break me apart so effortlessly then have me begging on my knees for more of you ...”

With that, he bottoms out in one smooth, torturous glide — the exquisite, familiar fullness stealing your breath and sending stars bursting across your vision at the electrifying feeling of being stuffed so deliciously deep. You wrap your legs high around his taut waist, ankles locking needfully as you roll your hips in frantic little circles seeking any kind of friction.

“Oh god, Lando … move, please … need you to move, it hurts so fucking good ...”

He answers your pleading moans with a soul-scorching kiss, lips and tongue consuming you in delicious, velvet heat as he sets a ruthless, punishing pace, spearing into your clenching depths with all the force and stamina that makes him such a world-class athlete. You match him thrust for thrust, your cries swallowed by his plundering mouth as the delicious drag and slap of skin against skin fills your senses.

“I’ll never get enough,” Lando grits out between breathy curses. His teeth find purchase at the dip of your neck, sending a starburst of sensation and pain across your sensitized nerves that only compounds the haze of carnal bliss wrapping you in its searing embrace. “Could spend my life buried inside you like this and it still wouldn’t be long enough ...”

His words ignite something feral, darkly possessive in your core, an echoing howl of belonging and ownership that it feels like you’ve been careening towards since the very first time he surrendered to you in trance. With a carnal growl, you hook your ankles tighter, using your legs to flip Lando onto his back as you rise up to straddle his hips.

His eyes go comically wide before he’s grinding up into you with a gasp, grasping your hips hard enough to bruise as you set a punishing new rhythm.

“Say it again … tell me who you belong to.” Your voice is hoarse, burnished in equal parts wanton need and flinty command — you don’t care which one makes him shatter apart at the seams so long as he answers your order.

Lando immediately locks eyes with yours, gaze fever-bright and seeming to pierce straight into your very soul as he clamps his hands around your throat with delicious pressure. “You,” he groans without hesitation, the pads of his fingers flexing as your pulse throbs wildly beneath his touch. “You own me, down to my bloody bones.”

The reverent oath sends a surge of lust and possession searing through your bloodstream, stoking the incandescent heat pooling low in your belly to fever pitch once more. Your hips move in wild rolls, desperate and ragged as you ride him with reckless abandon. Lando keeps one hand locked at the juncture of your throat while the other skates up your side to palm your breast, rolling the peaked tip between calloused fingers.

“I can feel you getting close already, look at you … my perfect, filthy girl throwing herself at me like she needs nothing else but my cock splitting her apart,” he growls gutturally, his words and the punishing rhythm growing more and more erratic as your combined pleasure crests higher and higher.

Quite suddenly, Lando hooks his feet against the mattress and surges up to capture your lips in a sweltering, soul-devouring kiss as his hips somehow piston even faster into your desperately clenching depths. His name fractures and shatters around the seal of your kiss as your entire world liquefies into ribbons of rapture, ecstasy blotting out all coherent thought until every last shred of tension and want finally implodes in a supernova behind your navel.

Lando gasps against your lips as your release floods him, thick and scorching hot — wave after wave milking the most intense convulsions from his straining cock as his own orgasm shatters loose. You rock together through the shared obliteration of your mutual bliss until there’s nothing left but the gentle lapping of aftershocks and Lando’s thumb stroking idly along the racing pulse at the hollow of your throat.

When you finally manage to crack your eyes and focus on the beautiful wreck of a man sprawled boneless beneath you, the look of besotten awe on his features nearly takes your breath away all over again. Then his rueful chuckle rumbles up from deep in his chest, melting away the last smoldering embers of tension as he brushes a stray lock of damp hair back from your brow.

“What on earth am I going to do with you, love?” He murmurs, the hint of a smirk toying at the corner of his lips. “Now I’m permanently addicted.” He presses a lingering, searing kiss to your swollen mouth before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “Though I suppose there are worse fates.”

You answer his sentiment with a breathless chuckle of your own, tracing the lines of his face in an achingly tender caress as the last lingering flickers of passion slowly ebb and flow into deep, drowsy contentment. “Such are the spoils of victory,” you breathe fondly. “Though I suppose I should thank you for being such an … enthusiastic participant.”

“Mmm, I think I can manage that.” His eyes slip closed as he winds his arms around you to roll until you’re flush atop his chest, every supple inch of heated skin against skin and your legs tangled together in a sprawl. “You’ve ruined me,” he murmurs softly, reverently against your hair. “And I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.”

You hum serenely in agreement, nestling impossibly closer as Lando’s breathing evens out and you both begin to drift into a dozy haze of sated bliss. The warm, hypnotic lull of his heartbeat against your cheek and the delicious ache of well-used muscles is pure nirvana.

In this moment, suspended in time in the afterglow, you can scarcely fathom how you ever existed before Lando barreled into your life and ignited this intoxicating flame of desire, devotion, and bone-deep belonging between you.

His voice, already rough and worn velvet from your passionate exertions, breaks the contented silence once more as he nuzzles against your temple. “Stay with me tonight? God knows I could use a few more hours with you in my arms before we have to brave the real world again.”

A languid smile curves your lips at his soft plea, warmth blooming in your chest. “As if you even need to ask,” you murmur, punctuating the sentiment with a tender brush of your lips across the thundering pulse at the base of his throat. “I’m yours, remember? Any time and any place you’ll have me.”

Lando doesn’t respond further, simply tightens his arm around your waist as he hooks his chin over your head with a low, satisfied rumble.

With his name a breathless vow on your lips, you allow the bone-deep weariness of pure satisfaction to finally pull you under into peaceful oblivion beside the only man who will ever hold the keys to unraveling you so completely in return.

***

The pale moonlight filters through the gauzy curtains of Lando’s posh London flat, casting everything in an ethereal blue-silver glow as you burrow deeper into the plush duvet.

A lazy, spent sort of satisfaction permeates the air in the wake of your earlier lovemaking — though honestly, is there ever a time when you don’t feel utterly cherished and deliciously sated these days?

Lando’s arm is a warm, heavy brand across your waist, the solid plane of his chest pressed flush against your back. You can sense the steady thrum of his heartbeat mellowing into the deep, even cadence of slumber and make to slip out of his embrace, eager to make use of the en-suite facilities. But the moment you shift, his arm reflexively tightens, drawing you impossibly closer as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck with a low, sleepy noise of protest.

“Mmm … stay,” he mumbles groggily against your skin, voice still rough and sweetly wrecked from the way you had him crying out your name mere hours ago.

You huff a quiet laugh at his drowsy insistence, nosing affectionately at his tousled curls. “I’ll be right back, you insatiable thing,” you rasp, carefully extracting yourself from his octopus-like clutches to plant a lingering kiss to his slack, pillow-creased cheek. “Promise I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Lando grumbles something indistinct but doesn’t protest further, already slipping back into the lull of sleep with a final contented sigh muffled against the plush bedding. You take a moment to simply drink in the sight of him sprawled out so unguardedly – all toned muscle and tousled chestnut curls, the crisp white sheets tangling artfully around his hips to offer tempting peeks of tanned skin and lean, powerful thighs.

He’s gorgeous like this, you muse with a soft smile, feeling that oh-so-familiar spark of possessive want begin to simmer low in your belly. A dizzying rush of affection and belonging surges through you as your gaze rakes over the starburst of reddened lovebites peppering his throat and shoulders from where you marked him as yours so enthusiastically earlier.

It’s hard to fathom that there was ever a time you considered your life remotely complete before Lando and his smoldering passion whirlwinded into your world.

Still, you force yourself to tear your eyes away from the alluring scene with a steadying breath, retreating to the en-suite with the promise to return hanging unspoken between you.

By the time you’ve padded back into the bedroom wrapped in one of Lando’s obscenely soft bathrobes, he’s shifted to sprawl across the centerline of the mattress, face half-buried in his pillow and one hand flung haphazardly above his head. The rakish sprawl of bedsheets and moonlight across his sculpted form renders him a vision of absolute debauchery and desire — not that you’d have him any other way.

You can’t resist ghosting your fingers in a featherlight caress along the hard ridges of his spine and the lean cords of muscle defining his broad shoulders, relishing the shiver that chases itself visibly across his skin. “You awake, darling?”

Lando grunts an affirmation, languidly cracking one eye to regard you through the tangled fringe of lashes fanning across his cheekbones. There’s a hint of wry amusement laced through the rough velvet of his voice when he speaks. “Was starting to worry you’d wandered off again without me.”

“Never,” you reply instantly, warmth threading through the simple avowal. Moving to settle in the vee of his splayed thighs, you trail a meandering path of openmouthed kisses along his lower back, nosing aside the rumpled sheet to expose the swell of his ass with deliberate intent. “You know I’m defenseless against this gorgeous body of yours.”

A low, approving rumble vibrates up from Lando’s chest at your blatant appreciation, his hips giving an unconscious, languid roll as your lips brush across the dimples at the base of his spine in a teasing caress. But then, quite suddenly, the boneless sprawl of his limbs seems to tense as a perceptible aura of hesitance permeates the desire charging the air between you.

You immediately feel the subtle shift in his energy, that jarring note of dissonance plucking disquietingly at your intuitive senses — the same ones that have always allowed you to tune into the deepest vibrations of the soul with preternatural clarity. Without pause, you abandon your sensual exploration of his body to settle beside him once more, cradling the sharp line of his jaw in your palm and wordlessly coaxing him to turn and meet your gaze.

“Hey … talk to me, love,” you murmur, the soothing tone of your voice blanketing the sharp edged undercurrent of uncertainty in its rich, soothing folds. “Where’d you go just now?”

Lando exhales a soft, humorless puff of breath, worrying his plush lower lip between his teeth in that adorable yet concerning tell of his whenever something is weighing on that mind.

For a long stretch, he studies your features in silence, the only sounds in the room the ambient thrum of the city beyond the flat’s walls and the occasional muted honk of a passing car in the night below. Just when you’re about to prompt him again, the words finally tumble out in a low, slightly self-conscious rush.

“You … you don’t take on other clients like me, do you?” You feel him tense further under your palm, discomfited energy practically vibrating off him in waves. “Not that I’m judging, honest! It’s none of my business what you do or who you see for work, but I just ...” He breaks off on a frustrated exhale, jaw ticking in that way that tells you he’s holding back a tidal wave of emotion beneath his placid surface.

A dawning realization begins to unfurl in your chest, intimately familiar with the root of Lando’s inner turmoil. This brilliant, sensitive, achingly beautiful man — the force on the racetrack who melts into the most sweetly vulnerable creature behind closed doors whenever you bestow him with the full force of your focused attention. Of course he would crave that intensity of focus, that promise of belonging solely to him in your most intimate embraces, no matter how irrational or paradoxical the notion seems from the outside looking in.

Slowly, carefully, you reach up to frame that beloved face between your palms, silently urging Lando to hold your unwavering gaze as the words he needs to hear spill forth in a low, resonant murmur.

“Do you remember when this first started between us? How completely you surrendered yourself to me in the most profound way?” You begin, watching his pupils slowly dilate and a nearly imperceptible tension begin to unwind from his shoulders at the timbre of your voice. “The absolute trust it takes to let someone delve that deep into the most sacred corners of your psyche … to share your fears, insecurities, and unvarnished essence without artifice?”

Lando swallows thickly, nodding once in a jerky affirmation as the words seem to bypass his conscious mind and resonate somewhere deeper. You card your fingers soothingly through his disheveled curls, allowing your touch to lull and ground him as you continue in that same low, hypnotic cadence.

“That depth of surrender and connection is not something that can simply be replicated or transposed onto others, Lando. What we have is singular. Untouchable.” You press your forehead to his, registering the faint hitch in his breath as you drink in every last nuance of his features. “My gift has always been to help unravel the truths someone tries to bury, follow the threads that tether the conscious mind to something vaster and more primal. But with you ...”

A low exhale ghosts across his parted lips as your thumb traces the sharp line of his cheekbone in an achingly tender caress. “With you, it was as if the universe aligned to allow me to shed every last shred of protection and pretense until there was nothing left but the purest vibration of my very essence resonating in time with yours. Do you understand?”

Lando’s gaze is a hazy swirl of naked emotion and trust, drinking in your every syllable with the desperate reverence of a man being offered the world’s greatest truth. “Like … like the truest version of ourselves was always there, simply waiting to recognize its other half,” he rasps, the words seeming to bypass his conscious faculties entirely as he remains held captive in the depths of your connection. “Two souls spilling into one another.”

“Precisely.” Your lips curve in the ghost of a smile, a bone-deep sense of belonging and contentment settling over you both like a well-worn hug. “In that moment, you became an inextricable part of me, and I of you. Something that profound doesn’t simply … vanish, or dim, or lessen with time and distance.”

You allow the weighted truth of your decree to resonate between your joined bodies for a suspended heartbeat, cradling Lando’s face as if mapping every plane and angle with worshipful precision.

“I could help countless others access their potential or tap into dimly lit corners of their awareness,” you continue. “But there will only ever be one person to whom I belong in that elemental way. One person who will ever see this side of me and who lays the very fabric of their being bare without reservation.”

A tremulous exhalation shudders across Lando’s lips at the finality in your tone, as if every lingering filament of doubt or uncertainty has finally dissolved in the face of your avowal. One of his hands comes up to splay across the small of your back, fingers flexing and bunching the silky material of your robe in a desperate clutch as if you’re the last solid comfort in a churning sea.

When his eyes slip open once more, they’re practically luminescent with a naked heat that sends a delicious curl of answering want unfurling through your core.

“Show me,” he rasps, the simple entreaty laced with an edge of heart-stoppingly vulnerable need. “Please, Y/N …. I need to feel you completely.”

In the stillness that follows, the only sounds are your mingled exhales and the thunderous gallop of racing pulses filling the air with resonant verses of sin and worship. Then, with an instinctual roll of your hips, you’re slotting one toned thigh between Lando’s splayed legs and sealing your mouth over his in a filthy, searing kiss that instantly has his back arching off the rumpled sheets with a muffled groan.

There’s nothing tentative in the wanton slide of your lips and tongues, every flick and brush and gentle graze brimming with carnal intent and the unspoken promise to strip one another to the very marrow.

Lando surrenders to the sweet onslaught eagerly, hands skating across your body in frantic, searing paths until the belt of your robe finally falls away and he can palm the bare curves of your ass to grind you more fully against his rapidly stiffening length.

You break away with a sharp gasp at the delicious friction, mouth immediately seeking out the fevered juncture of Lando’s neck and shoulder to mouth searing patterns across the taut tendons there. “You want my gift?” You rasp against the thrumming pulse under your lips, rolling your hips in a languid, purposeful grind that drags the already swollen head of his cock through the slick evidence of your arousal with tantalizing friction.

Lando’s response is a low, breathless stream of curses and encouragements, blunt fingernails raking distractedly down the length of your spine in a way that sets every nerve alight with tingling sparks of pleasure-pain.

Allowing him to nip and suck intoxicating patterns across your collarbones, you dip your hand between your bodies until you can wrap your fingers around his rigid shaft, dragging the pads in a devastatingly slow glide from base to tip.

The groan that punches from Lando’s chest at your touch is guttural, hips pumping restlessly into the tight channel of your fist. “Fuck, yes … want all of you, every bloody inch ...”

His words seem to bypass your conscious mind entirely. You’re suddenly blisteringly aware of each and every point where your bodies join: the heated crush of his straining cock in your palm, the delicious friction of your slick folds catching and dragging against the cut grooves of his abdomen with each gyration of your hips, the teasing rasp of his calloused palms as they roam hungrily across your skin.

It’s as if Lando’s very being calls out to yours in an ancient tongue, rendering coherent thought utterly obsolete as you simply feel — the pulsing, cosmic certainty of your connection amplifying every tingling spark of friction and delirious drag of skin against skin until your entire world narrows to the joining of your shared potential cresting higher with each and every move.

“Now,” you grate out, vision whiting out as your climax detonates in a blinding supernova behind your navel — an ecstasy so transcendent that you’re certain it scorches across the very fabric of your soul. Your fingernails sink vicious crescent moons into Lando’s bicep as you arch against him with a keening cry.

“Y/N!” His hoarse shout fractures on a broken whine, muscles tensing as the first searing pulse of his orgasm floods your belly, joined soon by rich, viscous ropes of white heat that leave you both totally undone.

You simply clutch at each other through the relentless waves, Lando’s teeth sinking into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as if urging you to brand him irrevocably as yours.

When the explosive rapture finally begins to ebb, you both sag into the tangled bedding in a limp sprawl of sweat-slicked limbs and trembling aftershocks, chests heaving in perfect synchronicity as you cling to one another like lost mariners adrift in some fathomless sea.

You can’t even begin to discern where your consciousness begins and Lando’s ends — your very essences having merged so irrevocably that you simply exist as a singular vibration pulsing through the cosmos.

It takes several long, suspended moments for the concept of individual awareness to gradually seep back into the edges of your being, though even then it feels blasphemous to separate yourself from the soul-deep profundity of what you’ve just shared.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, you manage to crack your eyelids enough to drink in the sight of Lando gazing back at you with that same awed wonder etched across his beloved features.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he rasps, the words little more than a throaty whisper ghosting against your over-sensitized skin. “That was … there aren’t even words, are there?”

In lieu of responding, you simply wind your arms around him with a tremulous exhale, hooking your chin over the solid comfort of his shoulder and allowing his clean, earthy scent to wash over you like a balm.

In this place, suspended between bliss and awareness, there’s no need for words or platitudes. You can feel Lando’s very essence thrumming in tandem with yours — the inherent recognition of your twin flame and sacred belonging reverberating on a molecular level.

Here, entangled in the vital warmth of shared trust and intimacy, all that exists is the boundless and the eternal.

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beyondspaceandstars · 4 years ago

Text

Around Your Neck

Bonus: Part 2

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader feat. Voyeur!Zemo Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, choking, metal arm kink, fingering, public sex, voyeurism, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI. Summary: Zemo was quite intrigued by you and Bucky fucking on his plane that he takes some bold steps when he sees you two running off to do similar activities on another one of his properties. A/N: alright! this idea actually stems from a conversation that took place in the original ‘Around You Neck’ piece. A reader (see full exchange below) threw around the idea of Zemo watching and someone second but it took me a while to actually get down how to go about this although i think i got it I THINK I DID GOOD. i enjoyed it so fingers crossed this lives up to any expectations

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Things had gotten hot and heavy between you and Bucky once again upon settling into Zemo’s place.

Once the gig was up and everyone was fully aware of your particular interest in a particular arm, you didn’t even attempt to hide your lustful gazing.

And something about that sure got Bucky going.

He pushed you against the wall of the fancy bathroom. His lips were on yours from the second he made some lame-ass excuse to pull you away from Sam and Zemo.

Sam had chosen to ignore it, not feeling like now was the time to lecture either of you. Zemo on the other hand had watched silently as Bucky’s hand gripped the back of your neck and your thighs twitched in response before you two disappeared into the bathroom.

You had felt Zemo’s eyes on you two as Bucky fumbled with the door before shoving you in, deepening the kiss, but you had chosen to ignore it and instead got caught up in the sensations of your boyfriend.

Nearly everything in the world had been forgotten the moment Bucky lifted you up and your legs wrapped around his torso. He walked you carefully backward, your back hit a wall.

“You’re driving me absolutely mad,” Bucky whispered in your ear, his voice as rough and passionate as his actions. His hardness grinded into your heated core as he spoke, earning a pathetic whine from you.

“I-I haven’t done anything.” You just about giggled at the end of your claim of innocence. Bucky responded by attacking your neck with kisses, nipping and sucking as he made his way across your hot skin.

You let out a light moan and made your own grinding actions against him. He shook his head, trying to taunt and deny you, but then little begs fell from your lips. The sweet sounds of “please” always made him absolutely weak - not that he’d ever admit it. Instead, he slowly let one hand make its way to your pants button while his metal arm held you perfectly.

When you realized the position, you swore you could feel yourself getting wetter. Just the realization he was holding you with one arm - the metal arm - so effortlessly while his other hand started work on giving you some relief made something turn in your stomach.

Bucky must’ve realized all this as he let out a deep chuckle once he undid your pants and shoved his hand into your panties. Two fingers first started little circular motions on your clit before moving them over your soaking folds.

He inserted the, slowly, letting you feel every inch of his fingers. “So fucking wet,” he groaned in your ear as he planted a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Haven’t even done anything yet it’s a fucking puddle in your panties. Ridiculous.”

The degrading words did not help your situation as you let out a loud gasping moan. Bucky was enjoying this, letting you be as loud as you wanted despite the others clearly in the house. You could only hope that they had decided to leave upon catching wind of what you two were up to.

But that turned out not to be the case.

As Bucky began adding a third finger to the mix, the bathroom door opened. At first, you didn’t even notice it. Eyes closed, your brain was only focused on getting your boyfriend to hurry up and fuck you, you were totally lost in your own world. For your super-soldier ex-assassin boyfriend, though, it was harder for him to turn his senses off.

Abruptly, all motions stopped. Bucky lifted his head from your neck as his fingers stilled inside you. You opened your eyes unwillingly and looked down at your boyfriend. His eyes were wide as yours were furrowed in confusion.

A heavily accented voice cut through the silence from the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You gasped - and this time it wasn’t one of pleasure. You started wiggling, trying to get a now furious Bucky away from you. He caught on and ripped his hand from your pants. Angry but still handling you with care, his arm placed you back on the ground. You turned away from the door, trying to fix your clothes as Bucky faced the intruder.

“What the fuck are you doing? Get the hell out.” Bucky’s voice boomed throughout the room, bouncing off every tile.

You flinched at the sound as you turned around, presently decent. Your eyes fell on Zemo who was currently leaning against the doorframe, a stupid smirk on his face and a fire in his eyes.

He shrugged, completely unbothered, and slowly closed the door again behind him. “Can’t a man watch what’s happening in his own home?” You and Bucky shared a questioning glance. “You two just seem to like sneaking off. Forgive me if my curiosity has peaked but this is a fascinating situation.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” You sighed, frustrated in more ways than one.

“I’m a man who likes to know what’s going on,” he crossed his arms, “especially when it’s happening in my space.”

“I really don’t-,”

“He wants to watch,” Bucky cut you off but his eyes were still trained on Zemo’s cocky, slightly too proud stance. Your stomach unexpectedly fluttered.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “W-Watch?” Your voice was suddenly weak as the frustrations - the good ones - hit you again.

“Hmm, interesting,” said Zemo as if he was casually thinking out loud. As if this was the perfect time for some brainstorming session. Your blood was boiling at his casualness.

You rolled your eyes, biting the bait that he cast like a foolish, edged woman. “What’s interesting?”

“You didn’t say no.”

You and Bucky began spewing protests to his claim.

“I-I was in shock-,”

“It doesn’t mean anything-,”

“You’re insane-,”

Zemo lifted his hand to stop you both. Your two voices were getting muddled as your words fought to defend. You gave in, quickly halting all complaints. You could see from the corner of your eye Bucky watching you a bit cautiously now but you didn’t want to face him. You still, for some reason, felt hot and bothered by this… proposition.

“Am I really that insane?” He asked, taking a slow step towards you. “You think you’re hiding it but you can’t stop shifting your stance and those pretty thighs won’t stop squeezing together.” Zemo paused, chuckling a bit to himself. You glared, keeping your eyes locked with his despite how overwhelming it all was. “Are you going to tell me that I’m wrong, dear? Because I don’t think I am. In fact, I think you’d more than just enjoy it. I think you actually crave it.”

Your heart sank at Zemo’s publicized revelation. How the hell did he even pick up on that? Was he somehow in your fucking mind? Your eyes searched his expression, looking for signs that he was pulling your leg or playing some fucking games but his features were cold with a hint of curiosity. You weren’t sure what to say because, well, he really wasn’t wrong. But this didn’t stem from some blatant attraction to Zemo (even though that desire certainly was harboring deep, deep within you), you had always had some interest in sexual adventures on the more voyeuristic side.

Bucky, however, didn’t know any of this.

For all the intimate actions you two had already explored -- including the new-found metal arm kink -- you hadn’t brought this up, finding it to be some ultimate, untouchable achievement with your partner.

Bucky said your name, pulling you out of your dazed thoughts. You finally faced him, taking in his not-so-surprising expression of wonder. “Is that true?” There was something in his tone that made your heart leap. He was… excited, you thought. “Is this making you…”

Your mouth opened but no words came out.

Zemo opted to answer for you. “You know it is, James.”

Bucky licked his lips and took a couple of steps towards you, focused on getting an answer personally from you. He was very close now, pretty much towering of you. “Does the thought of someone watching us make you wet?”

His words hit the room like explosive bombs. You gasped at the boldness, trying to act all surprised at the question, but your body couldn’t hide anything, especially not when Bucky’s metal arm came up to trace invisible lines across your neck. He held your head up, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. The entire situation felt so powerful.

“N-No.”

Both Bucky and Zemo let out scoffs in disbelief. You sighed, defeated.

“Oh, really?” Bucky inquired as he began walking towards you again, getting so close that you had no choice but to back up. You hit the wall once again, feeling almost in the position from earlier.

Without any warning, Bucky undid your pants and once again shoved his hand back to your core, letting his fingers run over your folds. If your panties had a puddle earlier, it was now a full-blown ocean down there. You yelped in surprise.

Bucky hummed as he let his fingers play. “I think the thought makes you very wet.” He pressed into you just a bit more, enough for you to now feel his erection through his jeans.

As Bucky inserted two fingers in you, he moved his head to meet yours. You grabbed onto his shoulders as the hand on your throat forced your head to tilt to the side, making room for him to whisper in your ears.

He pumped his fingers slowly as he spoke, “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” You let out a pathetic whine. “Yeah, you sure are,” Bucky chuckled. “I can feel it. I can feel you soaking my hand and why is that? Because someone is watching you? Someone’s watching you take my fingers like a good girl while my hand is wrapped around your pretty throat, just how I know you like it. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Bucky sneered, his voice full of arousal and jealousy, at the little pet name Zemo had used on you. You just about collapsed when he spoke. If it hadn’t been for Bucky’s strong body pressing into yours, you would’ve melted into the floor. Not to mention, you could feel Zemo’s eyes taking you in, raking over you so shamelessly as you twisted and squirmed from Bucky’s skilled fingering.

“She is quite the sight,” Zemo commented, making observations as if you weren’t even in the room. For some reason, that made everything hotter.

“M-More-,” you choked out and began grinding your hips against Bucky’s body. His grip on your throat got a bit tighter at your movement, forcing you to let out a moan.

“You want more?” Bucky taunted you as his thumb came up to circle your clit. You yelped, moving your hips even more. His body was still holding you down. “You want me to fuck you right here for him to see?”

Your eyes had fluttered close by now but Bucky wasn’t dealing with that. The hand on your neck left and found its way into your hair. He gave your hair a tug, forcing you to keep looking at him. His eyes bore into yours, full of lust and pleasure. His features, though, were harsh and serious. You felt your orgasm coming in hard. You couldn’t even think straight to nod at his ridiculous question.

Bucky seemed to know all this, though. Just as fast as he put his hand down your pants, he removed it, making you let out an angry, pitiful whine at the loss of contact. Bucky just shook his head and forced you to turn around. Now your front was completely pushed against the wall and Bucky was working fast to get your pants and panties off.

You couldn’t really see anything behind you now and somehow, this got you going even more. You lost pretty much all control in this position. Your awareness was flying out the window. You had no idea what Bucky’s next moves would be and you certainly didn’t know how Zemo looked taking this all in.

Suddenly, though, a hand came up to your cheek, brushing back your hair. You knew immediately it wasn’t Bucky.

“You look so pretty, dear,” Zemo whispered. His hand caressed your cheek as his eyes stared into your blown-out ones. “Like an absolute goddess.”

Before you could even respond or at least show acknowledgment, Bucky entered you full force, his hips completely jutting against you. You let out a cry at the fullness, completely stunned by the boldness of your boyfriend. He groaned lowly in your ear as he worked his way well deep into you.

“B-Bucky-” Your cries were loud as you adjusted to the size of him, now planted rightfully in you. While there was some discomfort, all you could register was the pleasure you had been denied for what felt like forever.

“Shh,” he hushed you, his mouth right against your ear. “You’re taking it so well, doll. My good little girl.”

You could’ve sobbed at his words of encouragement. He watched you for a second, still paused inside you, before feeling that you were okay. Then the pumping began, in and out of you, just as powerful as when Bucky first entered you. His rhythm was hypnotizing as he fucked you forcefully into the wall.

Upping the ante a bit, his metal arm came around to your neck, squeezing gently but with determination. You felt yourself get wetter at the action.

“There you go,” Bucky mumbled, sounding lost in his own daze. “Just like that, sweetheart. Got me fucking you against a wall, my hand around your throat, while we have a little audience. But that’s what you wanted, right? You wanted to show off how you like to get fucked.”

Somehow, his words were so degrading yet so pleasing. They went straight to your core causing the sound of your wetness to begin filling the room. You heard Zemo chuckle at the shift.

“Such a dirty girl you have, James.”

Bucky scoffed. “What a naughty girl I have. Didn’t even tell me she likes it when people watch.”

You whined at the statement but didn’t have much time to ponder it as Bucky pulled out of the way out only to shove right back in, forcing you to take his length in one motion. Your cries were becoming a regular thing now, completely engrossed in the situation.

“That’s it, sweetheart, so good,” Bucky grunted in your ear as his hand on your throat got tighter. “Gonna cum for me, yeah? Gonna come while he watches? Come on, doll, let him see how pretty you look falling apart.”

That was all it took. Your orgasm rushed through you the second his words stopped and he gave another strong pump. Slightly ashamed of yourself for how little it took for you to cum, but who could really blame you? Denied twice, you were always on that teetering and all that was needed was Bucky’s permission.

You shook under Bucky as he stilled inside you, letting his own orgasm take him over. He finished inside you, groaning and moaning pleasantly in your ear as you squirmed. The sensation of it all, from the warmth of Bucky filling you to Zemo’s eyes still shamelessly watching, had you overwhelmed quickly.

Bucky whispered sweet praises in your ear as you two calmed down. “So good for me, sweetheart. Absolutely fucking perfect. Can never get enough of this.” His words made you feel warm and definitely helped you catch your breath.

When he saw you were going to be fine, Bucky pulled out and reached for a towel to clean you up. He was gentle and caring, a complete contrast to just minutes ago.

Pants and underwear returned to your body and you pushed yourself slowly away from the wall, carefully finding your footing.

Once you and Bucky had straightened up your appearance, Zemo spoke.

“That certainly was a real treat,” he said with a cocky smile playing on his lips. You couldn’t really face him and instead focused on the floor. Bucky placed a gentle hand on your waist. “Nothing to be ashamed of, dear. I think we got what we all wanted, right?”

You mustered the courage to at least look up at Bucky who was just rolling his eyes.

“Could you leave us for now?” Bucky sighed.

“Why?” Zemo asked. “Going for round two?”

You shook your head, fighting your own urge to roll your eyes. No matter how mad you actually wanted to be, though, you had certainly found a lot of pleasure in the events just seconds earlier.

Bucky went to snap back with some remarks but Zemo cut him off. “I’m just kidding,” he said and then began walking to the door. “Thank you for this opportunity. It will certainly be treasured.”

With that, he exited, leaving you and Bucky standing there, staring at one another. Surprisingly, nothing had felt it changed between you two. In fact, you felt better now that that little secret of yours was now out in the open.

“So,” Bucky began with the tiniest smirk, “are there any other kinks of yours I need to know about?”

You groaned as Bucky chuckled, finding way too much amusement now. “Shut up.”

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xlbrh · 4 years ago

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First Meeting : {Childe}

notes : here we go with another request! i slightly tweaked the overall concept just because that’s where my writing took me but i hope you enjoy either way!

it’s a lil open ended so possibility for a part 2..? maybe

it’s taking me a while to get through requests but over time i will get there!

Genshin Masterlist, Ko-fi Page

warnings : none

format : one-shot, fluff

pairing : childe x f!reader

word count : 1146

fic under the cut-

“…Mora..? Hmm… it seems I’d forgotten about this part of the transaction..”

A hearty laugh resonated from (Y/N) at the cluelessness of her friend Zhongli, a hand reaching for her purse to hand the necessary currency to the vendor on his behalf.

Certain feelings – unknown feelings – crawled through Childe’s heart as his eyes layer upon the pair strolling around the streets of Liyue. Sure, they had only been purchasing some other types of tea leaves from all across Teyvat, but he couldn’t help but feel a small amount of animosity towards the male at her side. Childe was pulled out of his own thoughts by the voice of the girl he admired.

“Well, I guess this is where we part ways. Will you come to visit me at the shop when you have time?”

“Of course, you know better than anyone that I will be there to see you. Don’t use all of those tea leaves at once – I know how excited you get sometimes.” A small smile crossed Zhongli’s face as he remembers the number of times he’s had to stop (Y/N) from nearly scalding herself when trying to prepare tea. All rationale and safety flies out the window when her excitement hits its peak.

“Ohhh you worry too much! I’ll be fine…”

Once again the Harbinger tuned out of their conversation, his mind flooding with thoughts of (Y/N). How often did her and Zhongli meet to have tea? They seem to be on friendly terms so it must be relatively often. Did he feel any way for her? What if-

“Ooof! ….oww..”

Childe hadn’t even noticed that he began walking in her direction until she turned around and bumped straight into his chest, the impact causing her to lose her footing. The poor girl ended up on the floor, and he could only look down in shock that he may have just unintentionally hurt her.

“I-I’m so sorry! You’re not hurt, are you?” Unknowingly one of his hands was outstretched, so when (Y/N) clutched on to it a light flush made its way to his face.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m all okay! That’s what I get for standing around daydreaming..”

The male didn’t respond to her – for once he was lost for words. His face began to progressively glow red the longer her hand stayed within his grasp, eyes staring into her own before looking at their joined hands in what can only be described as embarrassment.

“I think this is the first time we’ve properly spoken, isn’t it? Thanks for helping Zhongli out when I can’t be there, I know he can be a handful at times!” A small blush covered (Y/N)’s cheeks as a giggle left her form. The laugh Childe loved to hear arose – despite how much he’d heard it before, it never failed to make his heart flutter.

“N-No problem, it’s the least I could do. Someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble, after all.” His gaze tore away from the girl in front of him, too flustered to look her in the eyes any longer. Unfortunately for him, this is something she noticed.

“Hey.. are you okay..? Your face is really red, and it’s not particularly hot… you’re not getting ill, are you?” (Y/N)’s free hand reached up to Childe’s cheek, turning his face towards her own. This only caused his face to burn a bright red as she leaned towards him, removing her hand and placing it on his forehead.

“Oh my gosh, you’re burning up! That’s not good… oh what do I do..”

The redhead remained speechless as (Y/N) began fumbling around in worry, talking to herself for a moment.

“Ahh, I’ve got it! Come with me please, I know exactly what can help you!”

Before he could protest the girl pulled him along by his hand that was still in her grip – somehow they had managed to become intertwined. Usually he would protest to something along these lines, but considering how her face lit up when an idea stuck her, he just couldn’t deny her offers.

The duo wandered from one side of Liyue to the other, never letting go of their hands. To any odd outsider, they would easily be viewed as a couple – one pulling the other in the direction of something that had intrigued them.

They came to a stop outside of a building Childe recognised, having waited outside of here for Zhongli many a times. The quaint tea house was thankfully empty at the moment due to the time, not that (Y/N) would have noticed. She led Childe to a small room towards the back of the building, gesturing for him to take a seat, before walking to the other side of the room deep in thought.

The young male took a seat, relishing in the refreshing smell of tea leaves and perfume within the room. His eyes travelled over to the (h/c) haired beauty, even from behind he could imagine the smile crossing her face as her hands got to work. Before long she returned to him, placing down a teacup gently in front of him.

“Zhongli mentioned that this tea helps to boost your immune system, perfect if you’re getting ill! Be careful though, we don’t need you getting burned as well!” (Y/N) took a seat opposite Childe as he took ahold of the cup, careful to not spill anything on the pure while tablecloths.

“Ahh.. thank you, you really didn’t have to though, you know? I’m pretty sure I’m not getting il-“

A cough resonated within his chest – curse his luck – causing her so send him an ‘I told you so’ look.

“Well whatever you think, that doesn’t mean its right, does it hmm?” The slight teasing tone within her words caused him to look away, a slight pout adorning his face as he brought the teacup towards his l

“Awww c’mon, you know I’m only joking! Now come, tell me a little bit about yourself.”

Out of nowhere a flash of confidence hit the male – maybe this tea was doing something to him.

“How about you tell me a little about yourself first? I’ve seen you around enough with Zhongli, but we’ve never ahead the opportunity to properly speak, so I can’t help but be interested in who you are.”

Her eyes widened slightly with this change of attitude, but her smile only grew.

“Confidence, I like it.. Well, what would you like to know?”

Whatever feelings were entering Childe’s chest, he knew they were bad news. Sure, he didn’t fully understand his feelings towards the girl in front of him, but for both of their sakes, it would be best to just be friendly for now. Getting involved with the Fatui is never a good thing, so for now he would push emotions aside.

I wonder how long he’ll be able to keep that up for…

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin childe #childe #childe x reader

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years ago

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seven wonders [request]

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x Young Reader Song: Indigo Night – Tamino | Requested by @sweatywildpanda Warnings: Language, FLUFF Summary: You had never met someone quite like Daryl Dixon before, his outlook on life seemed bleak and you made it your job to show him not everything in life is as sad as he made it out to be. A/N: THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST but also thank you for making me obsessed with a new song! I hope you all like it! – Requests are open!

You had been watching your friend throw herself on her new boyfriend Steven all night, every time she did you seemed to tip back the bottle of vodka that you coddled for most of the night so far. You were promised a party and so far you got a fire in a trailer park with about 5 guys, all far to obsessed with themselves to hold a conversation of any sort of meaning but it was almost like the god’s had heard your desperate plea as just as you gave up any hopes of a good evening, two men showed up... one was a little older than you but the other seemed around your ages and immediately caught your eye.

You ignored the interaction between Steven and the older boy and kept your eye firmly on the other, other than the obvious good lucks, he intrigued you, the way his slightly shaggy hair seemed to go unwashed, the way he held his shoulders as if the world laid on them heavily, slightly broody in the face as he watched in the interaction between the man he arrived with and your best friends boyfriend. His eyes scanned the rest of the circle before landing on you, taken back by the fact you were already looking at him, you offered him a warm smile not sure if it was the flicker of the fire or if the boy had a slight red glow to them as a result of your gesture. He looked away quickly but you couldn’t keep your eyes off him as you watched him walk away from the circle and plant himself under an old tree, fiddling with his fingers.

After yet another drink of the vodka, you pushed yourself from the chair and headed in his direction, thinking about the way your friends told you how annoyingly open you were when it came to meeting new people, joking how one day you’ll stumble upon your death because of how outgoing you had become. The thought made you laugh a little as you approached the mysterious man, his eyes slowly scanning your body before he met your smile once more. “This seat taken?” you joked, pointing to the spot beside him. He offered nothing but a shake of his head and you took that as your cue to sit down. “Im Y/N by the way” shifting into a more comfortable position, you offered your hand to the boy, hoping to put a name to his face.

“Daryl” he grunted, ignoring your hand. Your heart seemed to flutter at the bass of his voice, taken back by how masculine he sounded, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Nice to meet you, Daryl” you spoke softly before leaning against the tree, letting out a small sigh. “What brings you here?” you could tell your presence threw him off guard, possibly annoying him with how you just wouldn’t let the silence settle.

“M’ brother” he answered, a little defeated pointing in the direction of the man he came here with. You glanced over at him and watched how he held himself with cocky arrogance, your eyes rolling as he dramatically threw his hands in the air, telling some bullshit story to make the boys that gathered there laugh. “You?” you allowed a small smile pass your lips as he attempted to seem interested in your story, like you were his.

“I’m third wheeling!” you joked, pointing in the direction of your friend who remained on Steven’s lap, you could have sworn you heard the man scoff in amusement but you weren’t entirely sure. “She has Steven, I have cheap vodka!” you joke further but heard nothing from the man as he allowed his head to drop back to the hem of his shirt.

It stayed quiet for a moment as you drank back some more of the alcohol, almost emptying your bottle but the quiet was too awkward for you, you shifted slightly to face Daryl a little more, his gaze not leaving the button he started to pull at on his flannel. “You ever heard of the seven wonders?” you asked him with far too much enthusiasm, recalling back to a conversation you had with your mother about the subject, the one that made you utterly obsessed with the idea of seeing them all. You caught his confused gaze as he ever so slightly lifted his head in your direction, his eyes not leaving that stupid button. “Really? They’re like the most beautiful sights in the world” you gushed, your hands telling a story “ The great wall of China, the great pyramid of Giza?” A sigh leaving your lips at his silence, you shook your head ignoring his look “That’s what I wanna do, I wanna get out of here and travel, see the Seven wonders of the world!” your voice fell soft thinking about your dream, your eyes darting from star to star as you imagined yourself standing in front of the obnoxiously large Jesus statue in Brazil.

“Travellin’ aint all that” he muttered under his breath but it was loud enough to catch your attention.

“You travel a lot?” you questioned tilting your head slightly to capture more of his expression. Daryl just hummed in your direction, slowly nodding his head. “Must have seen a lot of beautiful places” you added, your interest fully peaking knowing he had seen much more of the world than you had.

“Ye’ don’t mean nothin’ though. Not when the world is full of shit!” he spat back at you, confirming his annoyance. You were taken back a little by his words, shaking your head disagreeing with him.

“You’ve got it all wrong!” his eyes met yours when you spoke, ready to bite back at you as to why he was in fact right but you cut him off “The world isn’t shit, it's the people in it.” The words fell out of your mouth almost too easily, like you had experienced your words first hand without seeing what the world had to offer you. He thought about how naïve to the real world you seemed but he couldn’t bring himself to break your perfect vision of the world, he figured you would figure that out on your own one day.

“So wha’ makes em wonders?” redirecting the conversation to avoid breaking your heart, his eyes finally allowing him to get a good look at you, you seemed to sway with the wind the strands of hair that fell from the poorly executed bun danced with you. He took note of the way your legs seemed to be scuffed with the dirt you sat on, thinking how dirty your dress might look once you stand up. He found it odd that you paired such a delicate dress with such stocky boots yet he liked it, it confused him for a moment, never really caring for fashion but he liked the way it looked on you. Finally he noticed the way your eyes seemed to drink up the light of the moon as you stared aimlessly into the sky, being careful not to be caught under your gaze. You laughed a little at his question, like he had fallen right into your trap. There was nothing more you loved to talk about.

“Well, they’re old right, so how people managed to build such magnificent statues back then is insane, like impossible insane! We now, would need machines and technology that just seemed like black magic back then!'' Anyone could hear the passion in your tone as you bragged about these ancient monuments, it almost made Daryl forget about the bad he had seen in the world and allowed himself to see the world through your eyes.

You watched the light in Daryl’s eyes flicker out as he came back to his dull reality, it made your heart sink a little before an idea sprung into your mind, like it was your mission to change this man’s outlook on life. You reached out for his hand and though he flinched when you touched him, he didn’t pull away instead he allowed you to guide him to his feet and drag him away and towards a small hill that surrounded the trailer park. As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice how rough his hands were. You thought he was far too young to have such calloused hands; no man in their early 20’s should have such aged hands. You didn’t let it distract you too much as you continued to tug on his arm to make him walk a little faster as you walked up the hill, finally you let go of his hands once you reached the top, a satisfied sigh signalling the end of your journey. You sat down on a patch of grass and patted the patch next to you, signalling Daryl to sit beside you. He just sighed at your demand but obeyed his orders and slummed himself down next to you, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out.

His eyes followed yours, settling on the view that the hill provided, a body of water seemingly flowing perfectly still and the light of the moon reflected right on its base as the grass and water weeds surrounding it played with the wind. “If the world was so shit, we wouldn’t have this” you whispered, not really caring if Daryl heard you or not, only saying it for your own peace of mind. He remained silent as he took in every detail of the scene, his bleak view on the world gaining some colour the more he watched. He broke his concentration to take in your expression, wondering if it matched his, it didn't it looked so much more peaceful, like you had found where you belong in the world, like everything ever made sense. Daryl looked over his shoulder the sight of you seemed to be overwhelming, it was only then that he acknowledged the fact you had chosen to sit with him and not partake in the group ‘fun.

“why ya wastin’ ya time wi me? Any one of those guys would break their back just to hear ya talkin bout this shit” you scoffed at his question, your eyes fallen onto him now with an amused smirk creasing your lips.

“The world is full of pricks like them. It’s not every day you get to meet guy’s like you.” It was like his heart had skipped valuable beats when you spoke, swallowing a lump that formed in his throat.

“Na’ I ain’t worth ya time!” His words were shaky as he tried to leave your gaze but you never let him, your hand resting on his leg as you did.

“No, you're worth more” you whispered before your eyes wandered back to the view you sat before.

He wasn’t sure how he let a complete stranger come into his life and completely flip the way he saw the world but he was glad he did. He sat up a little, now crossing his legs hoping not to disturb the way you hand laid on his thigh teasing himself with the thought of placing his hand over yours and eventually he bit the bullet and did just that, his eyes now following the ripples of the water finding it fitting as he felt ripples of warmth flowing through his blood stream as he held onto your hand.

He sure as hell liked seeing the world through your eyes.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x you #daryl dixon x you #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl dixon

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strawbeebo · 4 years ago

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~♡ Damned If I Do ♡~

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Fem! (She/Her) Reader

Warnings: ❌MAJOR SPOILERS!!❌ Seriously, if you aren’t caught up with the manga, don’t even finish reading this description lmaooo

Words: 5.5K

Genre: Fluff & Angst

A/N: this has shit that’s 100% me taking shit into my own hands and assuming the shibuya incident ends with things going well for those still alive and everyone returning to the Tokyo school for rehabilitation and mourning so ye ye ye. also i’m delving into completely unfamiliar territory so don’t @ me if it makes no sense LMAO

As always, if you enjoy this and want to see more of my work, PLEASE consider reblogging as it’s the best way for my works to get around and keepin’ me motivated to make more for y’all!

❌ MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD ❌

Gojō remembered the first time he met you, after all, how couldn’t he? It was actually a pretty funny situation, but if Nanami had a say in it he would heartily disagree.

It was his birthday, something Nanami had never put much thought into and actually preferred others to treat it in the same way. For the longest time, his birthday was just another day that happened to show that he had been on this hell of an earth for one year longer than the year before. It was a countdown leading to nothing when he had nothing he really wanted to live for, but when he met you, that seemed to change in a blink of the eye. Well, at least your relationship felt just like that, a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ type situation, but despite that, the handful of years he had spent with you felt like something he never could have even dreamed up happening.

You had met by chance, running into each other at the grocery store. It was nothing special, he had quite a few more items than you did so he offered up the spot ahead of him so that you could get through more quickly. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately so, the line was still fairly long so you decided to strike up a conversation with him following your list of ‘thank you’s’. You thought he was nice, a little bit on the serious side and not overly cordial, but you could tell just from that short conversation that he was the type of person you could sit with and not say a single word and still feel comfortable and content. He had a sort of calming, mature air about him and with a handsome face to match, you couldn’t help but think about how surely a man like that had someone waiting for him back home, wherever that was. Either way, before your conversation could go on for long, you had to turn your focus to checking out, so you thanked him once more for letting you pass him and simply went on your way, not thinking in the slightest that such a minor encounter with a stranger would change your life like it had. Your life continued on as normal and so did his and, for a few months at least, things went on as such until the two paths of your respective lives came together once more.

This time, it was at a small café that you later learned was near his place of work, so he frequented it often. You actually didn’t see him at first, he had intentionally chosen a table that was at one of the corners closer to the entrance so he could be away from the noise of the front counter, but the cafe was a bit packed that afternoon so it didn’t really matter in the end. You had only noticed him because you were looking for a place where you could sit and your disappointment in the fact that there didn’t seem to be any empty tables was soon replaced with intrigue in response to seeing that vaguely familiar face. It took you a moment, but his unique features allowed for your memory to be jogged quickly as you made your way over to him after putting in your order, starting with a small wave to get his attention.

To your surprise he actually remembered you, though that was for the better since it made you feel a little bit less creepy about remembering him. You introduced yourself, something you didn’t feel like you had to do last time but for some reason with this meeting, you felt it was appropriate. He returned the favor, ‘Kento Nanami’ was his name, something that at first didn’t seem to suit him well, but who were you to say? Your small talk continued and, while you didn’t actually have any intention of ‘using’ him for the empty chair that sat across from him, the topic of how busy the cafe was came up and his request for you to sit with him followed soon after. You turned him down initially, you assumed he was working since he had both his laptop and his phone laid out in front of him and you didn’t want to be an annoyance, but he politely insisted it was not bother for him, so you eventually accepted his offer.

You were only on your break after all, so you figured it wouldn’t be long and that if you drank your coffee and ate your chocolate croissant quietly, he wouldn’t regret allowing you to share the small table, though once again to your surprise, it was him who started up another conversation a few minutes after you got settled. You talked about your respective work, his disdain for his job being clear as day even as he seemed to try and justify it either to you or to himself, but you almost felt bad speaking of your boring day to day job that didn’t seem nearly as bad as his. Aside from work however, you spent a lot of time talking about good places to eat in the area as it seemed you shared a love for good food amongst a few other things. He was as nice to talk to as you had initially imagined he would be, to a point where you had to cross your fingers and hope that he didn’t notice your interest peak and your eyes flicker to his ring finger when he happened to mention living alone. To be honest, you had never really been one to put yourself out there unless the person who you found an interest in had a clear interest in you in return, but when you stood up to leave, you felt compelled to slip him your number written on a piece of notepad paper you always kept in your purse, telling him if you ever happened to be out at the same time, you’d like to meet up for coffee or something another time.

He, much like you, wasn’t particularly romantically focused, but he accepted the offer nonetheless. If anything, he wouldn’t deny it was nice to have some company that wasn’t his coworkers. You were polite and all, though for some reason, he felt a want to get to know you on more than a ‘small talk with a stranger’ level. He didn’t have much to go on, but that was all the more reason to get to know you more, and that he did. You had one more meeting over coffee, and then once again, this time at a different café you had told him about. He liked to stick to his routine, but it was cute how excited you got raving about how amazing their cherry danishes were, so he decided it couldn’t hurt. From there his feelings of ‘it couldn’t hurt to go’ slowly turned to him waiting to see you again, for once tapping his pen in annoyance not just because he wanted to get out of another pointless meeting, but because he wanted to see you. You had become a breath of fresh air in his mundane life, one that made all those late nights seem slightly less exhausting and after some time, made the idea of making money for himself come second in his thoughts. Your coffee dates turned to dinners out, then to him cooking dinner for you, then to nights spent together that ended with both of you being late for work the following mornings.

You had gotten more than ‘close’ over the span of a year or so, so much so that after many evenings of you commenting on how you could tell something was wrong, he decided that you were someone he could trust with the information regarding his former work as a sorcerer and eventually, you were a big part in convincing him to go back to it, something that, thinking back, you both regretted and welcomed as a fantastic idea. Despite the injuries you’d see him with, he seemed...lighter, as if something that had been previously bothering him had vanished with him returning to the objectively much more relentless work. Still, you could tell he was happy in his own way and as cheesy as it sounded, if he was happy, then so were you. A few months after that and you decided there was no point in living separately if you were spending almost every night over at his place anyways, so the two of you moved in together. Things were about as normal as you could possibly imagine being with someone who did what he did, but with you, a sense of normalcy was all he wanted.

Another year passed and he fully welcomed his thoughts making the change from thinking about how he was going to live out the rest of his life in a tedious manner to how he was going to live his life with you in it. Hell, even his acquaintances could tell you were more than just some woman he was seeing because if you were, they wouldn’t know about you at all. He was rather private like that, everything about his personal life was very much on a need-to-know basis that in his eyes, they didn’t need to know, especially Gojō, but unfortunately you had asked for a few contact numbers just for emergencies and Gojō happened to be one of them. It didn’t take him very long to abuse said connection though, and before Nanami knew it, he was walking into a private party room of a small restaurant the two of you frequented often, only this time he was met with an obnoxiously loud array of ‘Happy Birthday’s being shouted at him. Still, the sheepish smile you wore as Gojō explained he had been secretly planning this little surprise party with you was more than enough to make him ok with his birthday being celebrated in such an over the top way. More than that, something about the way you interacted with his coworkers and students made him...oddly happy. The way you handled Itadori’s numerous enamored questions about your relationship, being able to hear that loud, full on laugh you let out at the stupid stories Gojō told about when the two of them were in school, and all the little small talk in between as you got to know eachother. He hated to admit to thinking of them as his family, but he knew there was no other explanation as to why he felt so fortunate to see you all get along so well.

That night felt like it went on forever, though slowly the party began to thin. The students left first, they had lessons early in the morning after all, and eventually it was down to him, Gojō, and you. You shared a drink with them before tapping out early with an apology, you had pulled an all nighter the night before and the exhaustion was starting to set in, but you insisted he stay out a little bit longer and enjoy himself and after a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye and a whispered “Happy birthday, Kento.”, you were off to hopefully catch the last train home. Nanami knew what was coming next as he could see the knowing look on Gojō’s face before he even turned back to look at him, and maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn’t mind the conversation that he knew was about to follow.

It started with a simple comment.

“She seems awfully nice. Too good for you, don’t you think, ‘Nanamin’?~”

If he were being honest, he would have answered ‘yes’, but that wasn’t something he really wanted to get into. Instead he brushed him off, making a comment on how he sincerely hoped he wasn’t suggesting that somehow Gojō would be a far better option for you, to which he laughed in return. They talked quietly like that for a while, after all Gojō hadn’t gotten to hear the whole story yet and he was intrigued about how this seemingly normal woman managed to wiggle her way into the overly serious and stoic Nanami’s heart. He didn’t ask that directly though, instead he just listed off different harmless questions about what you did for work or what kinds of things you liked. It wasn’t the answer itself that necessarily mattered, but with the way Nanami spoke about you, he could tell that he was simply taken by you. For someone so blunt and pessimistic, when he spoke about you, even if his tone didn’t change, Gojō could practically see the passion he held for you in his eyes. Still, he couldn’t let his carefree reputation be tarnished so to hide his interest he would crack a few jokes and, as always, Nanami would respond with something clever. The night droned on like that until finally, in a slightly more serious tone, Gojō asked a question that Nanami had already asked himself many times over.

“So, you gonna’ marry her?”

It was a simple question with a technically simple answer, however it took much more pondering than one would think. The life he lived was a dangerous one, one that rarely made room for romance at all, let alone marriage, but somewhere along the way, you had helped him break from his repetitive schedule of a life that was meticulously planned and for once, this was something he was certain of even if the outcome itself wasn’t so. The two of you had already had this conversation, more than once actually since he was the one who needed some convincing, so it was really just a matter of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’. Still, he didn’t have to let Gojō know that.

“....I’ve thought about it.”

“Uh huh. So can I see the ring?”

He should have known there wasn’t a single thing on this planet that Gojō couldn’t pick up on. With a sigh, he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the small black box that he had carried with him practically every day that he wasn’t working since he had bought the damn thing and placed it on the table. Gojō snapped it up almost immediately, flipping the lid open and lowering his glasses to look at the ring properly. It was simple, something that wasn’t surprising since Nanami didn’t put much meaning into materialistic things and you didn’t seem like the type to want something too excessive anyways.

“A sorcerer’s salary sure doesn’t buy much does it.~~”

The box was snatched away from him in a matter of seconds as he continued to laugh it off as Nanami mumbled about how ‘he shouldn’t have bothered’ despite the fact he knew Gojō was just messing with him. Slowly, the topic faded and after one more drink, they were back to their own personal realities which, luckily for him, involved slipping into bed with who he was sure was the love of his life.

The morning came and went and your worlds settled back into their odd sense of a different kind of ‘mundane’, one that involved curses and demons, but was saved by the comfort and love you had for one another. However even that could only hold up your spirits for so long and with every passing day, it seemed like Nanami was always coming home with worse news, and that was with him sparing you as many of the details as he possibly could. Even with him explaining it to you, there were still things you didn’t understand, but you knew that things were escalating in the world of jujutsu sorcerers and curses. The flashes of true normalcy and happy days seemed to appear so few and far in between lately, the days where you could visit him and the students he helped out with became a thing of the past as said meetings were deemed ‘unsafe’ by the higher ups.

Then, all at once, it seemed the steady decline of the situation seemed to falter just for a moment before sinking even deeper than any of them could have possibly imagined. You knew this mission in Shibuya was different from anything leading up to it just from the way Nanami spoke to you before he left. He made a point to never treat you like a child or as if you couldn’t handle the work he did, however this time, unlike before, he made a point of telling you about the amount of sorcerers that would be there and that they already had an idea of what the curses’ plans were. He was reassuring you that this would be no different than any other mission, and that alone was enough to let you know things were much more dire, but as if that weren’t enough, he held you with a lack of his usual confidence, keeping his arms locked around you for longer than usual before pressing a sweet kiss against your lips that you wished to god you could have savored more than you did. He assured you once more, told you he would call you as soon as he possibly could, and he was gone.

You didn’t even live that close to Shibuya, but with the amount of noise and the way the ground shook that night, you felt even people halfway across the world could feel the sheer amount of power that was devastating the area. You didn’t dare turn on the news, so instead you simply waited. You kept waiting until somehow, you fell asleep. You waited through your morning coffee that you could hardly stomach, waited through the calls and texts from coworkers and friends asking if you had seen the news, you waited and waited and waited. Every call that wasn’t from him became irritating, and as the afternoon passed and the sun began to set, you felt every wave of emotion fall over you. You began to agonize as night fell, calling Gojō you don’t know how many times before eventually falling asleep, no doubt due to stress.

You woke up to a call from the principal of the school Kento worked for, someone you had never even spoken to before, asking you to come to the school the following day. That wasn’t the call you were waiting for, that wasn’t who you wanted to hear, but what else could you do? How long could you reasonably wait to hear Kento over the phone apologizing for being so late and complaining about the amount of overtime these curses were running up? All you could do was agree to be picked up by one of the few sorcerers left, who oddly enough wasn’t the usual black haired man who you had seen drop off Kento on occasion. The young woman didn’t speak much aside from confirming your name, but you were glad for that as you didn’t know what you would say. Or rather, you didn’t want to ask the question that was clawing at your skull because somewhere deep past the threads of hope you were hanging on to, you knew what the answer would be. You could feel something was wrong from the moment you woke up that morning to right this second as you walked with bated breath before being asked to sit in a small lounge room.

It wasn’t long before you heard the slide of the door and were met with the familiar young face of Itadori and lengthy figure of Gojō who, for as strong as Kento had described him as, looked particularly exhausted and lacked that usual grin he always wore.

“...We need to talk.”

Never had those words made your chest feel so tight, but as the rest of his explanation spilled past his lips, you felt emptier than you ever thought was possible.

You knew from the beginning of the end that he was gone.

You knew, yet nothing could have prepared you for the words your heard cried from young Itadori’s mouth as he practically collapsed down onto his hands and knees with his head bowed to the floor as he sobbed out a whirlpool of apologies and regrets that made your stomach turn in knots. You felt cold and painfully numb, as if you were off in a dream somewhere watching all this happen, your brain scrambling for a way to prove that none of this was real. You didn’t feel in control when you got on your knees and hugged Itadori close to you, your own tears finally beginning to spill from your eyes as reality set in and yet, you still tried to mutter through your own weeping that it was ok, it wasn’t his fault, it will be okay. It felt like an eternity that you were crumpled on that floor next to this poor boy, your thoughts completely shut down by your emotions. You had talked about this so many times, sworn up and down that no matter what happened to him, you wanted nothing more than just just be with him. Now, you couldn’t remember how you convinced him of that, because suddenly you weren’t sure how you could possibly be ok with him gone. What was next? Did you even have a single faction of your future planned that didn’t involve him? Over and over your brain went back and forth, between acceptance of this new reality and ridiculous explanations as to the ‘fact’ that somehow, they were wrong. That they missed something, that Kento hated overtime more than anything else and would be waltzing in with nothing more than a few scratches and bruises and ask you what you were doing on the floor like that. It was then that you must have either passed out or dozed off as you could have sworn you felt the phantom of his embrace and his lips pressed to your forehead.

——————————————————————————

For all the late night dramas you watched on television, you could never quite understand what people meant when they said ‘it all passed in a blur’ in regards to what followed after a loved one passed away, but now you knew with certainty that description was not far off from reality. You felt as though you did nothing but cry for days, days that were spent at the school since the mere thought of going home to an empty apartment made you feel sick. Every time you thought you couldn’t cry any longer, there was always something, an item belonging to Kento being offered up to you or a question in regards to his funeral that would send you further down the spiral that you already thought you had reached the bottom of.

The numbness began to fade, slowly, but as awful as it sounded, luckily things around you seemed to be moving just as slowly due to the sheer amount of chaos there was to be dealt with. You tried your best to pull yourself back up again and you were fortunate for the lack of pressure from the others to do so because the reality was, you didn’t know what to do, so for a while, you really didn’t do much of anything. Some days you cried for hours on end, some days you were angry, some days you just didn’t feel much of anything. Days turned to months, though now some of those days were occupied by grief counseling that seemed to help the more you got used to it. You were finally able to return home, though even after another few months of counseling, it felt hard at times with how empty it was. Still, having all of Kento’s friends and acquaintances nearby helped and you all supported one another in the ways that you could.

Eventually you found yourself able to think about Kento more fondly and less about the fact that he was gone. You slowly began working again, you were lucky to have an understanding boss who didn’t have a problem with you having days here or there where you still couldn’t quite handle a normal work day. You also took your counselors’ advice of taking care of yourself physically quite seriously, though most of that motivation came from the fact that if Kento could say something to you now, he would be more than willing to scold you for missing meals or not drinking enough water. Little things like that were working their way into your thoughts more often and you found yourself able to smile again, pushing yourself forward with the idea that Kento would give you as much time as you needed, but you knew he would still hope that you’d be able to find your old flow of life once more.

It had been a while, you still felt off in regards to being social, but you had finally decided to reach out to Gojō and ask him out for a drink. To be honest, you hadn’t been keeping up with the sorcerers as of late. At first you obsessed over it, your lover had given his life over their cause after all, but it was doing you no good and eventually Gojō genuinely convinced you that he was going to keep you up to date on everything significant and let you know what was happening. As far as you knew, they were still in a bit of a recovery period, thought that was partially because the opposition had been awfully quiet while they were left with little to no leads to follow. Still, Gojō was more than happy to hear from you about something other than updates and happily accepted your offer.

He wasn’t surprised at your choice of restaurant being that same one both you and Nanami had loved, but he still felt ill prepared to face that longing look you had as the two of you met up in front of the place. You still looked worn down, but you seemed well off enough considering the situation and the amount of time that had passed.

“He pretended to be pissed off the last time we were here together, but he was really happy that day.” You started, nursing a cup of the shared bottle of sake the two of you had ordered.

“Really? I’m sure he’d deny that with everything he had.”

“Yeah,” You said with a short laugh and a tired smile. “He probably would.”

The two of you talked a bit about nothing in particular, you could tell he was avoiding any mention of his work and the current state of things, but you didn’t mind. That wasn’t why you wanted to see him anyways, though to be honest, you didn’t know exactly why you had wanted to meet up with him. Maybe you just wanted to feel close to Kento again, a part of you dreaming of a world where the three of you were chatting over drinks, just like before. Your chatter quieted, the silence between the two of you drowned by the quiet murmur of the other customers before you finally decided to speak something that had been on your mind as of late.

“I- um…” You started, the telltale tightening of your throat creeping up on you as you gently fiddled with your cup. “...I’ve- I keep thinking...or maybe daydreaming...I think about what would have- what we would have...been.” You finished, stumbling over your words in the process as you tried to fight back against your own emotions.

You knew that thinking about all the ‘what if’s’ was probably horrible for your mental state, but sometimes, when you were really alone with your thoughts, you just couldn’t help yourself. A part of you thought that maybe if you thought about it enough, if you wished for it hard enough, your dreams would somehow come true. Even knowing that in the end that could never happen, those thoughts were always bittersweet in a way. In the end you were and always would be happy for everything you had with him, even if your time together was cut short.

“This has been a topic of debate, you know.” He spoke, tapping a finger on the table a few times as if in thought. “The consensus was ‘don’t give it to her’ but I disagree and I think Nanami would agree with me for once, so I took it anyway.”

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he had heard you correctly, or maybe he didn’t understand what you were saying? Your questions were quickly snuffed out before you could even ask them though as a small black box was placed down in front of you and your heart just about stopped. Your mouth hung open as you looked at him and he simply gestured for you to open the box. You did just that, staring at the simple ring with a single pear-cut opal set in the center, a stone you had commented on loving seemingly years ago. Your fingers felt tingly as you reached for it, your mouth finally closing once you finally held it in your hands. All at once your emotions began to overflow with the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes.

“I’m no expert, but I think you woulda’ gotten married. Obviously I would be the best man and Nanami would find some new ugly tie to wear.” He said with an air of reminiscence for something that never actually was.

“You’d probably look great, but that’s a given. Then you’d party and get drunk and finally go home so you could do some stuff that would end up with us having some good news a few months later….Ok maybe no kids but I’m sure the two of you could make a damn good night out of it.”

You were silent for a moment, and then you burst out with laughter that quickly dissolved into crying as he handed you napkin after napkin to wipe your face with. You wondered how Gojō could make everything sound so simple and make you somehow both overjoyed and saddened at the same time, but after a while, you were left smiling even though you still had tears running down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry that couldn’t come true.” He spoke in a more serious tone, a gentle smile gracing his features. “-But, who knows? Maybe it could, someday, with someone. Point is, you should know that all Nanami ever wanted was to be happy with you. Whether or not that was for a hundred years or two, he was more willing to ride that train through than he was with anything else. He knew there was a chance that being happy with you could only last so long, but he’d want you to keep living and loving the things and people that you do. That’s what he fought for, after all.”

You nodded, laughing once more through your most likely obnoxious crying. You knew there was no way you could ever get over that want to have lived a happy life forever with Kento, but you also knew it would break his heart if you were never at least able to enjoy the rest of your life alongside the grief you held. You wiped your eyes once more, your tears finally ceasing, and you slipped the ring onto your left ring finger and lifted your hand up to admire it and everything it represented.

“Would you look at that!~ Guess he really did have an eye for perfect measurements.”

You smiled and gave him a nod, unable to tear your eyes away from the ring that now sat proudly on your finger. This was where your life and your love had led you, mourning for the loss of everything you had and yearning for the things that you now knew would have been, yet you knew from him proclaiming it many times that if there was one thing Kento cherished, it was the fact that you gave him something to look forward to, a reason to truly live rather than just go through the motions. He would want you to live the rest of your life just the same, even if it was without him. You would love those you held dear, you would laugh til’ you couldn’t breathe and cry until you ran out of tears. You would eat your favorite foods, sleep in on your days off for as long as you could, and be sure your calendar was marked with little “X’s” for even the smallest of things to look forward to. You would live your life to what you felt was the fullest with him in your heart throughout all of it until maybe, someday, you could see him once more to finish your story with a long awaited “I do”.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk

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yukiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Kiran, Categorizing

Thank you for the support and patience as always, @xpegasusuniverse! This was so funny to write, I hope you like it!

Summary: Bored during a meeting, Kiran started to sort some of the heroes in a way that he had only done back in his own world, in social media... Now, Sharena, Alfonse and Anna seemed interested in the magical world of the... himbos.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

__________________________

Kiran’s workload after he was summoned to Askr kept increasing exponentially as the war against various kingdoms dragged on. There were many Heroes to keep track of and many different powers coming to play, so he always had to be careful when suggesting a team or a strategy.

Of course, he couldn’t deny that sometimes he made team compositions mostly based on personal preference or how the heroes would interact with one another rather than how well they complemented each other’s strengths, but he never sent those out to dangerous missions, so he liked to keep that to himself.

Take the meeting going on at that moment, for example; he was shuffling through a list of buff-looking heroes to form a team to explore whatever had been going on inside the Illusory Dungeon. No one knew for certain when phantoms of heroes and compelling songs would start appearing and playing there, but whenever lights shone inside it, Kiran formed one of those teams based on his own preferences just to hear the reports once they came back.

Well, the meeting wasn’t solely for this situation as Anna, Alfonse and Sharena were sitting on the round table around Kiran while talking strategies about the many other skirmishes happening in the country. There were some heroes who still had to go to the Training Tower, so the smallest pile of papers by Kiran’s left was a list of those; there were also heroes raring to go explore the Aether Islands, so the second smallest pile was full of requests from them; there had also been reports about suspicious movements in the woods nearby, so some nimble heroes were needed…

There was a lot to do, so Kiran was taking his time to at least form a team he found funny instead of drowning in the weight of his responsibilities like it usually happened to Alfonse. Kiran looked up from the paper in front of him to the sick-looking prince, raising an eyebrow at how intently he stared at a report.

“Alfonse, maybe you should take a break. You’re looking whiter than your own clothes.” Kiran’s hoarse voice from talking all morning made the prince blink and shake his head.

“I couldn’t possibly take a break at an important time such as this-”

“C’mon, Alfonse, Kiran’s right.” Sharena patted her brother’s shoulder, her face still full of energy as though she wasn’t tired at all from sitting at that table for hours. “Let’s go stretch our legs! I’ll come with you.”

Once again Alfonse shook his head. “No. As I said, I can’t cut the meeting short just for this.” He shifted his tired gaze from his pouty sister to the Summoner, “were you almost finished with the team for the Illusory Dungeon, Kiran?”

“Hm? Ah, yeah. I wanted a team of himbos, so I figured Raphael, Arden, Draug and maybe Shiro…? I was torn between him and Chrom, but perhaps Chrom isn’t really one…” Kiran mumbled the later half of the sentence, frowning slightly at the personal files of Chrom and Shiro as though he could find the answer there if only he stared long enough.

Anna raised her finger to ask, but then gave up on it, shaking her head. Sharena didn’t, though.

“Eh? What’s a ‘himbo’, Kiran? Is it something you use to sort the heroes? Or does it have to do with how strong they are?” The princess’ eyes shone, while her brother beside her looked confused yet intrigued.

Snorting, Kiran had to avert his eyes for a moment, wondering how he could have said that out loud. An internet lingo he had used back when he still had social media (though still pretty accurate to categorize people) now came up in this kind of situation. Kiran cleared his throat, fighting back a smirk.

“Well, yeah, it can be considered something to sort them based on how strong they look. A man is only a himbo if he has three characteristics: He has to be buff, kind, -- to everyone, though especially to women -- and stupid. If he’s missing even one of these, he can’t be considered a himbo.”

“Wha-” Anna frowned, placing one hand over her mouth to hide a snort.

Alfonse and Sharena, however, were appalled.

“S-stupid? That’s kind of mean to say about the heroes, though?” Sharena deflated like a sad balloon, sitting back after getting up in excitement about a new word.

“Truly, I- I never expected you to talk about them like this, Kiran.” Alfonse looked more offended than anything, as though all of the built-up trust they had shared had shattered.

Kiran pressed his lips into a thin line, almost unable to stop himself from laughing out loud. “No, I mean it in the best way possible. Look here,” he picked up Raphael’s file, which had a picture of him smiling wide and warmly, “this is the peak example of a himbo. He’s not book-smart nor does he have street-smarts, but his heart? It's as wide as the ocean. He’s kind, but without any ulterior motive, and he’s really, really big and buff.”

Sharena’s jaw dropped in shock, processing the information as Alfonse twitched his eyebrows. “But why refer to him as ‘stupid’...? That’s rather insulting.”

Kiran shrugged. “Well, it’s just the fastest way to call someone who doesn’t have much -- if any -- smarts in them, isn’t it? Look at this one here.” He pulled a file from a nearby pile, lifting it for them to see. “Tibarn here, he’s buff and kind, but he has smarts. You can see many thoughts going inside his head,” different from the zero braincells Raphael seems to have, Kiran thought to himself as he swallowed a snort. “So he’s not a himbo, but a hunk.”

“Alright, I’ll bite, “Anna managed to say after properly managing not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “So a himbo has those three characteristics, a hunk is a muscular and kind man. So what of the other combination? If they’re kind and… lacking in smarts?” She asked, barely containing a smirk from sprouting, which mirrored Kiran’s.

“Well, that’s just a decent man, I suppose.” He coughed out, trying to mask a snort as Anna threw her head back in laughter, unable to hold it back anymore.

“Pfft-aahaha! This is new!” She laughed loudly, taking shaky breaths to stop herself from crying as she dried her eyes with one hand. “So, since when have you been ranking the heroes like this?”

Catching her laughter, Kiran shook in amusement for a bit before glancing at the confused royals. “Since before I was summoned here, I suppose. It’s a ‘sorting technique’ used back in my world.”

Sharena’s eyes sparkled once again. “Well, if we can not say that they’re stupid, then I think it’s a good sorting! They have a big heart and big bodies, right? It doesn’t matter that they don’t understand the world around them, just that they’re ready to accept everything at face value!” The princess looked up as though she had made the discovery of the century, while Alfonse beside her crossed his arms to think.

If it was something from another world, Kiran’s world especifically, it was worth giving it a try, was it not? Perhaps if they applied themselves, they’d be able to sort the heroes more efficiently and cut back the time for these meetings so they could focus their energy elsewhere…

“As I was saying, I was in doubt about Chrom because, look: he’s buff enough, though not as big as, say, Draug; he scores high in kindness; but he has SOME smarts… Although he’s impulsive, it’s not like his brain is empty like- ahem, it’s not like his heart is as big as Raphael’s or Shiro’s.”

Not hearing the insulting part about the heroes’ smarts, Sharena nodded in compliance, thinking deeply. “Hmmm, I don’t think I can help in this right away. Can you give us more examples?”

“Sure, look here,” Kiran turned the pile by his left to Sharena. “Hinata, he’s a jock. He’s buff enough, but he’s not really kind and he’s kinda brusque, right?” Kiran held back the ‘he lacks brain cells’ part, saying it only with his eyes to Anna, the only one who truly understood him in all of this. “On the other hand, Stahl… is just a decent guy. He’s kind and although he has some smarts, he’s not buff, so he doesn’t fall into this category.”

“Hmmm, so do you think Owain could be one? He’s stup- ah, lacks smarts enough and he’s a good guy. But he- ah, yeah… perhaps not.” Anna started, but then stopped herself after comparing Raphael’s muscles to Owain’s. “Isn’t this kind of sorting way too specific? I don’t think many heroes fall under the ‘himbo’ category.”

Kiran nodded solemnly, as though they were talking about some important strategy. “Indeed. It’s very hard to find a true himbo, as they’re extremely rare. Hence why I was having trouble with the Illusory Dungeon team.”

“I see… It sounds really important.” Sharena nodded, basically accepting that this was something that went way over her head and tried to catch up in her own way. Alfonse still had mixed feelings about it, but the more seriously Kiran and Anna talked about it, the more he felt like he was in the wrong for finding something iffy about the sorting method in the first place.

“For example, Linus… if only he was a bit kinder, he would be another prime example of a himbo.” Kiran said over Sharena’s mumbling, sighing wistfully. “Lex would also be a good one, but he’s too smart to be a himbo.”

“Oh, I know! What about Keaton? He seems perfect!” Sharena raised her voice as her eyes glanced at one of the lists around Kiran.

The Summoner and Anna exchanged glances. “Not enough muscle.”

“Ah…” Sharena sat back with a pout. “This is really hard…”

“Yeah…” Kiran scratched his temple in thought.

In the following silence, only Alfonse’s voice could be heard after a few minutes. “... Isn’t Lord Hector one, though? From those examples…”

Kiran widened his eyes, jumping out of his seat with a bang. “That’s it! Alfonse, you’re a genius!” He praised, quickly shifting through the files to find Hector’s. “Do you have any more suggestions?”

Taken aback by the sudden cheer, Alfonse gulped. “Um, I thought about Helbindi, especially according to what Princess Yglr told us about him…”

“Hmm… A rare tsundere himbo, huh… perhaps?” Kiran took one hand to his chin in thought, mumbling something under his breath. “Alfonse, you’re on the right track! C’mon, keep the ideas coming!”

“Brother, you’re no fun, you picked it up so quickly! Tell me more!” Sharena protested, manhandling Alfonse into fessing up how he understood Kiran’s vague explanations so well.

Anna snorted under both hands as her shoulders shook from suppressed laughter, wondering how the hell they had ended up talking about that in the middle of a meeting.

Regardless, the topic was too much fun to be ditched now that the four of them were eagerly exchanging suggestions and adding more himbos to the pile, so no one noticed that the important meeting they were having was now a himbo-selection tournament.

Perhaps after night fell, they would come back to their senses, but for now, the Commander, the two royals and the Summoner threw heated debate against one another regarding the amount of intelligence this or that hero possessed.

#fire emblem heroes #feh #anna fire emblem #alfonse fire emblem #sharena fire emblem #my writings #yuki's commissions #kiran fire emblem

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secret-engima · 4 years ago

Note

Ardyn doesn't know his own strength and accidentally helps Niflheim topple Insomnia like, eleven years too early. So he scoops his tiny would-be killer out of the rubble and smuggles him to the Nox Fleurets, presumably to stash for a few years--only, Tenebrae soon falls too, with the rumors of them harboring Prince Noctis (who the Emperor rather badly wants dead, as the Crystal still. won't. accept. him). So now Ardyn has to figure out how to semi-raise Noct into something NOT hopelessly (1/2)

alyss-spazz-penedo

said:

(2/2) civilian and strong enough to fight the gods and fulfill the Prophecy, even as he definitely still hates the child and would quite enjoy seeing him suffer. On Noct's part, he totally knows who Ardyn is and what he wants (thanks Luna), and sure he's glad he wasn't cut down in the raid on the mansion but he's SO unhappy to see Ardyn again.

Me: Oh my word do you even KNOW how angsty I could make this ask? DO YOU EVEN KNOW????? Of course you do you just want to see me suffer.

But just- this could get SO DARK. So abusive. So brutal and even though I would not go full dark there’s still so much ANGST no matter how you look at it.

The worst part is I actually have a bby AU very much like this. Does anyone remember the slightly unstable Imperial!Noctis that showed up in my All Nocti Dissidia AU blurb?

This is basically him.

A Noctis who grew up having lost his home TWICE. First Insomnia, then Tenebrae, both to the same Empire and the same Accursed, and then the Accursed had to RAISE HIM and it was- it was hard. It was brutal. Ardyn raised this Noctis to be a weapon strong enough to destroy him, a politician cunning enough to overthrow him, a scientist smart enough to outthink even Besithia. His only light was Luna, who Ardyn allowed to visit to keep Noctis on his “destined path”, and partially Aranea, who drifted into the young “Chancellor’s Nephew” orbit out of happenstance and then later pity, because she could see the brittle sharp glint in the boy’s eyes and knew an abusive situation when she saw it, and if him hiding in her airship sometimes gave him respite, if that was all she could do to help because Ardyn wasn’t someone she could arrest-.

She tried. At least. She did what she could.

And one of the most angsty bits of this is-

In some warped way, Ardyn and Noctis grow to love each other. Because there are days when Ardyn’s sickness loosens it’s hold enough to let bits of the Healer King and Big Brother shine through, and his touch becomes gentle and his teasing words lose their poison, his hands card through Noctis’s hair and do not scrape at his scalp, and when he speaks of Prophecy there is longing there for rest and repentance rather than poison and mockery for the fate that awaits them both. This is the Ardyn that peaks through when Noctis falls sick after climbing up a mountain in a snowstorm for training, or when he’s too sore to move after a night battling in Ardyn’s daemon training arena learning how to forcibly purify the creatures even though purification is Luna’s magic and not his. This is the Ardyn that holds Noctis close sometimes and sobs apologies into his limp, shivering nephew’s hair because he is aware, at least for a moment, that this child-teen-young-adult is not Somnus and does not deserve to be molded into a weapon of Astral and Accursed alike. This is the Ardyn that Noctis calls Uncle and bitterly, angrily loves in his heart, the one he looks for in the Chancellor’s every morning and quietly mourns when he cannot find him.

The Accursed trains and molds a weapon, a politician, a cunning, sharp mind that can rival his own and someday kill him.

But it’s the little bits and pieces of Ardyn that raise Noctis, a king and a nephew and a son that holds on to the morals Luna gives him with an iron grip, that makes sure Noctis is not completely drowned beneath the Chosen King.

And in the end it is the work of both sides, Accursed and Healer King, that raise up the one who saves the world. It is the Accursed who forged the weapon that hunts down the weapons of the Lucii and steals the lost ring, who steps into the Crystal without flinching and comes out ready to kill.

But it is Noctis who spent years stealing away children from Besithia’s labs so they would not become MT units, who fosters the rebellion and organizes the factions of Lucian, Galahdian, Altissian, Tenebraen, and Niflheim rebels so that they become a more cohesive whole that the Empire cannot isolate and crush beneath it’s boot. It is Noctis who sometimes sneaks into Luna’s rooms at night so that they can just- hold each other, so that Luna can run gentle fingers down his back and remind him what it means to be human, not a weapon, not the King of Light, who shows him the innocent people he must protect and proves to him that they are worth fighting for and keeping safe when it would be so much EASIER to just wage his war and not care about the collateral.

It is Noctis who teaches his stolen not-MT units to be people and to stay safe, Noctis who clings to the sunshine soul of the one who names himself Prompto and follows on his heels into the maw of Ardyn’s brutal training without flinching. It is Noctis who finds Lucis’s Marshal Immortal deep in one of Niflheim’s dungeons and arranges for the rebellion (his rebellion) to break him out. Who gives the Galahdians his magic in the dead of night with a ghoulish mask and cloak to keep his identity hidden from them. It is Noctis who finds the Last Amicitia leading a rebel cell and offers him hope and gains in accidental exchange a protector and Shield. It is Noctis that is tracked down by a young man with glasses and green eyes and loyalty in every fiber, a man who says “I know you are our secret leader, let me help you” and Noctis who is still human enough to be grateful and say yes.

It is Noctis who orchestrated the Empire’s downfall long before he stepped into Crystal, and who’s forces have hemmed and imprisoned the Accursed in the ruins of Noctis’s first home during the ten years he is gone.

It is Noctis, not the Chosen King (weapon, war beast, broken tool) who gently pillows Ardyn’s head in his lap and pets red-violet hair and sings ancient, long-forgotten lullabies as the Accursed (his tormentor, his Uncle, his worst nightmare, his parent) breathes his last.

It is Noctis who ascends the throne of an Empire and reclaims the Crystal (with Luna and a Retinue at his side to keep him from becoming as heartless as the Chosen King that was forged from him) rather than rolling over and dying, because Ardyn gave him training and honed his mind and gave him access to all of Besithia’s knowledge, did he really think Noctis wouldn’t look for a way to weaken and end the Scourge without sacrificing himself for it?

(He thinks perhaps that Ardyn didn’t, that his Uncle-captor-Chancellor-father always intended him to find a loophole in the Prophecy so that he would survive, that even when buried underneath the Accursed, the Healer King still fought to protect the last of his family)

(Then he clutches the cane he has to lean on ever since that final battle and goes to find some wine, because he does not want to think those thoughts. They hurt even worse than his limp and his joints and the lifetime of scars he hides under elaborate black tattoos.)

There.

THERE.

ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?

Or do you want me to ramble about how Cor feels the day he finally meets the mysterious head of the rebellion, who is now the emperor and how he’s suspicious and willing to keep fighting if this man turns out to be corrupt, because he’s heard this is the Chancellor’s nephew, only to feel his heart stop when he sees the profile of the man leaning heavily on a cane and thinks for one second it’s Regis’s ghost before realizing this man is younger and clean-shaven and dressed in a way that shows off the elaborate, scar-hiding tattoos on his arms and shoulders. How he makes some noise in his throat and when their mysterious Chosen turns to look at him Cor finds himself looking into armiger blue eyes and Regis’s face if it had been softened by Aulea’s jawline and made borderline feral by a lifetime of intrigue and abuse thinly veiled as training.

And Cor whispers the name of his best friend’s long-dead son, and the new Emperor’s eyes sharpen as he says, “How do you know my real name? I never told anyone outside my Retinue.” And something in Cor twists with realization.

And there’s also the realizations of Ignis and Gladio years earlier, who don’t KNOW at first who Noctis really is to them until he trusts them enough to reveal his magic and they realize THIS IS THEIR PRINCE. This is their long lost charge who they thought was dead, but has instead been raised by the man who hates him most and yet loves him dearly by turns and all that entails.

And there’s also LUNA. Luna who doesn’t die, but who grows up watching the gentle, smiling boy she first met in Tenebrae get shaped and sharpened and molded into a Chosen King and a beast of war and a tool of destiny, who could so easily become a monster just like the Accursed in all but name, but who FIGHTS it every step of the way even as his light falls away and Luna becomes his only cornerstone for years. His only reminder that there is a life and a purpose outside the Accursed’s plans and the Prophecy that Luna grows to hate, because if it did not exist then the Accursed would have no interest in her friend.

Luna who cries with relief the day the not-MT named Prompto glues himself to Noctis’s side and refuses to leave, because there is an innocent, stubborn light to the boy’s eyes that gently draws Noctis out of the armor that is the Chosen King even when Luna is not there. Luna who rails at the Astrals (at Bahamut, who prevents Shiva and Ramuh from acting) because they can SEE what is happening, yet they will not step in to rescue him, because even now Ardyn is pushing Noctis toward his “destiny” and that is all that matters.

Luna who, years after all is said and done, after the Accursed is laid to final rest and Noctis slowly dissolves the Empire back into free and healthy kingdoms, still has to hold him when he shakes and still has to talk the icy, too-sharp glaze from his eyes when he forgets to be human rather than weapon. Who pushes golden magic into his body even though she knows some scars can never be healed, and who has to talk Noctis down with Ignis’s help from the heights of his utter, visceral horror the day she tells him she is pregnant and Noctis realizes he’s going to be a father, but that he doesn’t know how, because what role model for fatherhood has he ever had and remembered that wasn’t the very man who took his real father away and made him the fractured mess he is?

...

There I think I’m done being brutally angsty now.

Happy notes for an AU like this would be-

Noctis and Luna both live. Ignis does not go blind.

Noctis and Luna have like- five kids and Noctis adores them all once he gets over his visceral panic. He is the gentlest, kindest father. Luna and Ignis and Gladio have to do all the disciplining because Noctis will not raise a hand or voice to them ever, and he has never looked more peaceful then when he is napping with his children in the garden.

Prompto has like- several hundred brothers because Noctis stole bby MT’s whenever he could. Prompto is the unofficial “oldest” brother of them all (even though chronologically he isn't) since he has the ear of the king, and all the clones have fun making themselves unique via hair and accessories and tattoos and clothes and weird names.

Gladio and Aranea are snark buddies, and neither are entirely sure how they got married but they’re pretty sure it was Biggs’ and Wedge’s faults and that Ignis officiated (which isn’t too far off).

Cor gets to spoil all of Regis’s and Clarus’s grandkids like crazy.

Galahd gets rebuilt and gets to be it’s own country. Nyx Ulric and Crowe and all our other fav glaives live and aren’t traitors.

Titus Drautos was one of Noctis’s most loyal double-agents during the rebellion, and frankly he isn’t sure how his retirement still involves him braincelling his Galahdian idiots, but their islands are pretty and its far, far away from any and all Niflheim/Lucian politics so eh, he’ll take it. Now if Nyx would just STOP using him as a babysitting service for the adorable adopted bby Ulrics of his newly remade Clan, that would help his blood pressure so much.

#SE asks #alyss-spazz-penedo asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Imperial!Noctis verse #angst warning #SO MUCH ANGST #tw: child abuse #referenced child abuse

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lemonsandstrawberries · 4 years ago

Text

Hashtag: RelationshipGoals

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Steve is being forced into getting a Twitter accounts and logs into Tony’s for inspiration - one mistake later, he finds more than he asked for. Meaning, his boyfriend has a tickle kink and Steve has a lot of thinking to do.

length: 5 468

a/n: Happy Friday 13th! *throws confetti* To celebrate I am posting a fic that contains one of the biggest fears for people with tickle kink - someone finding out when you are not ready to tell them. It has a happy ending, promise! Hope you all will enjoy this fic, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed! fic inspired by this prompt.

—————

Hashtag: RelationshipGoals

Long story short - Steve was getting a Twitter account.

Long story long...

It all started with a certain PR meeting held for the Avengers team, just this time, it was Steve vs the whole PR team. The problem was simple - Steve didn't like social media and didn't have an account on any of the numerous websites and apps. Fighting with aliens, planning new missions, schooling SHIELD agents - those were the zones he felt comfortable in. Some thought that the hidden reason behind the hostility towards social media was, that Steve, born in the 1920s, had a problem with using modern technology. Some called it endearing, some pathetic, the truth was, that Steve fairly quickly mastered each piece of technology he was given, skillfully using any given device. After all, he wasn't dense. Many apps were quite useful, some just plain entertaining, and it required a lot of navigating, but he managed to find some favorites. Just when it came to social media… Steve didn't feel like sharing his private life with unknown faces. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked having direct contact with people and as much as he liked to take a stop during his random walks in the city to talk with people who called themselves his fans, it quickly became too overwhelming. He wasn't good at such things and always thought he was too awkward and not what people expected. Steve didn't like that kind of pressure and didn't like the almost weekly notices from the PR team that he needed to make himself more 'accessible'. By no means, he was expected to stop and talk to everyone who ever called him or share mission details with strangers, but he needed to create a more public persona for Captain America and Steve Rogers.

Hence, Steve was encouraged to take a plunge into the world of social media.

And he really, really, really didn't want to do that.

One - it was pretty tedious to keep up with everything. Tony eagerly showed him all social accounts he had - Twitter, Instagram, Facebook profile, Youtube, and it all just gave him a headache as Tony chattered which media was good for what and gladly showed him his own Instagram page (mostly workshop photos and meals Steve had prepared for him, which was kinda sweet) and if Steve became slightly interested in that, his interest dropped after hearing about filters and tags. Too much work.

Second - he didn't have time to keep his theoretical accounts active and post new content regularly. Or more, he didn't want to make time, preferring to spend it on reading or training or hanging out with Tony or anything else, really. He had been gently suggested, that some celebrities (Steve's eyes widened a little after hearing that - was he a celebrity?) hire someone else to run their social media accounts. Steve shook his head at the proposition, knowing that none of his teammates did that and so he shouldn't either, not mentioning that everything posted wouldn't be sincere.

Third - Steve considered himself not an interesting person. He didn't have Tony's charisma, who, of course, had the biggest social media following ever, Thor's flair, which made his Youtube channel where he tasted food sent to him from all over the world by his viewers a huge success or Clint's humor, whose Internet activity limited to commenting on funny animal photos and home videos and people loved him. Even Bruce, seemingly even more awkward and distant when it came to dealing with a privacy-invading crowd, was doing great, kindling the interest of young kids in science with a series of easy to repeat experiments at home and railing about the importance of protecting and preserving the environment. Even Natasha didn't have a problem, her social media accounts full of useful self-defense tips for everyone who needed to feel safer. Steve just couldn't find anything in himself he would like to share with the world. He liked to keep his art private, his relationship private, and his whole life private.

It should be the ending statement.

It wasn't.

And so Steve, feeling scolded, got back to his and Tony's shared floor, planning to hide, except that he was assigned a very simple task for the week.

Get a Twitter account.

Steve sat heavily on the couch, putting elbows on his knees and palms around his cheeks, definitely not pouting. Why on Earth did he need a Twitter account? Wasn't it enough that from time to time he appeared on Tony's account, being the supportive boyfriend, and allowing Tony share the photos of their date nights or even the short movies from Steve's training when Tony was proudly showing off Steve's impressive physique and using those damn filters and making small stars and glitter swirl around him.

Speaking of Tony, he could use his boyfriend's advice... Steve checked his phone and knew that Tony was still stuck in a business meeting, and won't be back for an hour or so and as much as he wanted to not think about the Twitter issue it kept coming back to him. What was he supposed to write on Twitter? Something that wouldn't give too much about him, but would be safe and entertaining. He needed inspiration. Maybe a walk would clear his mind but as Steve was getting up, he noticed Tony's tablet laying at the edge of the coffee table.

Well... Tony wouldn't mind if he took a peak, right? Granted, he never used Tony's tablet before without his boyfriend’s permission. It felt too personal and barging on privacy and it was almost a silent agreement between them that Steve won't touch Tony's electronic devices and Tony won't look through Steve's sketchbooks without prior agreement. But it was different, right? Tony's Twitter account was out there, for everyone, so it didn't matter if Steve would install the app on his phone and check the account, or go to the source and look through Tony's account. It might even help him to understand better how the app was working.

Steve took the tablet and unlocked it, searching for the Twitter app. Letter T on a blue background. Steve pressed it and skimmed over the screen, looking at the design of the app. Huh, it looked very different from the account owner's point of view. He scrolled down the screen, seeing a lot of text, too much text because wasn't there a limit of signs per tweet? Further, into the app, Steve saw more of things he didn't recognize, didn't see any posts from other Avengers, instead of images and gifs and -

"Woah," Steve gaped, taking in what he was seeing. He quickly scrolled up, his face becoming heated, unsure what he just saw. For a minute, he turned the tablet in his hands, trying to decide if it really belonged to Tony and not someone else, but who else would have a hot red and gold cover, resembling the design of the Iron Man suit. It had to be Tony's tablet, which meant...

Those posts were Tony's. That account was Tony's. Tony had two Twitter accounts? Steve looked back, just now noticing that it wasn't Twitter after all. At the top of the screen on a background of dark blue in white letters was written Tumblr. Steve didn't hear of the app, it wasn't listed as one of the most popular ones for celebrities and that's probably why Tony used it for -

Steve wasn't exactly sure for what. For something secretive. Something he wanted to hide. Things he didn't admit even to Steve.

Cautiously, Steve scrolled down again, trying to keep an open mind and be more cautious. He wasn't a prude, he knew that people had different kinks and it was completely normal. Heck, he and Tony had a very healthy sex and intimate life and the sight of Tony tied down for their playtime always made Steve's blood boil with lust and desire and they did indulge in some kinks, Steve current favorite one included spanking Tony's bouncy ass and watch it jiggle and the skin turn red. Tony had no problems with sharing his kinky fantasies and Steve was always willing to give it a go, sometimes proposing things on his own, like wax play, which wasn't only sexy but also artistic - Tony's body colored with drips of different colored wax was a beautiful sight. This... This was something different, Steve didn't think to consider.

There were pictures, that without context seemed innocent, like an array of feathers on a pillow. Some were less subtle and showed a part of sucked in stomach, escaping from a coming closer feather duster. The gifs were the most intriguing - a tied up, blindfolded man, laughing and squirming, while a different man was...

Tickling him?

Steve's brow furrowed as he watched the gif, frame by frame. There was no doubt that it was tickling, fingers gliding over tied man's armpits and sides. Steve expected this to be a prelude, something more to follow, but it was all. Tickling was the main point. Steve blushed when he realized that if there were gifs, there had to be a video and who knew how long it was. How many minutes would it take to bring someone to the brink of hysterics, to make them crumble, but at the same time make it pleasurable? People were not forced into filming porn and following that principle, there were not forced into filming tickle kink videos.

And that being said...

"Huh..." Steve mused out, bits of information falling into one picture. They never discussed it, but in the back of his head, Steve had this thought that Tony enjoyed being tickled, or at least didn't mind terribly. The way he squirmed between Steve's tickling hands but didn't try to run away. How he laughed and screamed for mercy whenever Steve targeted a sensitive spot and always seemed a bit disappointed when the tickling ended but masked it with a smile and complaints of being assaulted. Sometimes, Steve just felt provoked into tickling his boyfriend, like that one time, Tony had taken his sketchbook and hid away, refusing to say where he hid it and Steve had to tickle the information out of him until Tony was absolutely incoherent from laughter and breathless.

That was cute. All those shared tickle moments were cute, but Steve never thought that they could be... hot. And intimate. He looked back at the gif, at the way the tickled man arched and bucked, but was not able to escape the ticklish strokes delivered over his skin. What if Tony was the one tied and spread in the chair and Steve was the one standing behind, dotting his fingertips over the bare torso, having that sense of power and control, enjoying the ticklish tremble of the bothered skin. It became a tempting image in his head.

'Guuuuys, I don't know what to do.'

Steve's eyes caught on some text among the images and gifs. A separate post.

'I still can't tell my bf that I like being tickled. I just can't! There is this block in my head -'

Steve read the text, feeling that he might know the author.

'I even did that thing you recommended with hiding his stuff away -'

Definitely knew the author. At the top of the post, he saw a name, probably the username and clicked on it. Blue background color, and image of feathers and the username in white bold font. The Spare Parts Man.

That was one major hint...

Steve scrolled down this page, seeing more text and images of people being tickled, some like, a gif that was of a zoomed in stomach, the belly button tickled by a tip of the feather, signed with a 'omg, goals', whatever that meant. Steve tried to search for the text he saw on the previous page, but couldn't find it anymore, instead saw more posts, where people seemed to be interacting with the author.

'Hi, SP! I was the one who sent you the asks with hiding your BF's stuff -'

'I am sure your BF will understand, from what you said, you are dating for a long time -'

'You still didn't tell him??? What are you waiting for, GO GO GO!'

Steve pursed his lips together, feeling upset that Tony was so willing to share with strangers, but not with him. This whole site seemed so secretive, and while Steve felt a bit betrayed, he started to think about things from Tony's perspective. Tickling wasn't a mainstream kink. Bondage, spanking, food play - all the things they had tried seemed to be more acceptable in the sex world while tickling... Some people enjoyed it, some hated it. Steve was somewhere in between. It could be a fun thing among loved ones, but could quickly become overwhelming and unbearable. Steve didn't think about it earlier, but he really liked tickling Tony. He loved the way his body twitched, the sound of his laughter, and the feeling of closeness and trust in the action. For Steve it was fun. For Tony, it had to run much deeper, forming stronger connections than it did for Steve.

'I don't want to lose him. What if he thinks I am a freak?'

No, Steve would never think that. Tony was the great love of his life and Steve accepted him on every level.

"Oh, babe..." Steve sighed softly, reading more posts, some screaming nervousness as Tony was pouring his heart out, feeling miserable with his inability to tell Steve the truth, some so heartwarming and oozing happiness when Tony was describing Steve's last tickle attacks and how incredibly good and completed it made Tony feel.

That. Steve wanted to make Tony feel like that every day. Satiated and fulfilled and safe.

No more secrets.

Carried on the moment, Steve pressed on an icon with a pencil and began to write.

***

Tony was bored. So, so bored. He caught a glimpse of Pepper sending him a scolding look and straightened up in his seat, pretending to pay attention. He just wanted to go back home and curl up next to Steve, feeling Steve's fingers stroking his hair and maybe, if he got lucky, Steve would rub his belly, using just enough pressure to make him smile and feel like melting. He started to smile at the thought and Pepper sent him a confused look. Uh oh. He better control himself. Tony grinned sheepishly at Pepper and set his face in a schooled, thoughtful look, trying to focus his attention on the meeting. Just half an hour more... It was all ending statements, so it was nothing bad if he decided to check his social media, right? Cautiously, Tony took out his phone and unlocked the screen, keeping the phone under the table. A new tasting video from Thor, with a package of sweets sent from the Netherlands. Tony made a mental note to drop later to Thor's floor and ask if he had any stroopwafels left to share because they were amazing with black coffee. Clint commenting on funny cats videos, Tony added it to his watch later list. As usual, his own social media were bursting with notifications, people raving over Iron Man and asking for more videos of Steve training routine, which, Tony couldn't blame them, the sight of his boyfriend working out was heaven. He even decided to check his Tumblr, curious if anyone sent him some more tips or maybe just left him a nice message -

Oh, that was weird. Usually, he had maybe two or three messages, some reblogs, and a few comments. This time, his app was bursting with notifications and Tony didn't post anything that could cause such a commotion in the last days.

'WHAT. WHAT????"

'Nooooooo... Please don't break up with him! He loves you so much!'

"The hell, dude! You invaded your bf's privacy like that?? You're the worst!"

Tony didn't understand anything. Maybe he clicked and shared something by accident. There was a slight possibility that his account was hacked. Maybe -

Maybe it was way, way worse.

There was a new text post on his main, one he didn't write.

'Hi, this is Spare Part Man's boyfriend. I found this account by accident and me and my boyfriend have a lot to talk about once I see him.'

No. No, no, no.

"Tony? Tony, are you okay?!"

Tony didn't realize he started to hyperventilate until Pepper's voice brought him back. Everyone was staring at him and Tony felt like vomiting.

"I am fine," Tony said, not meaning it, his voice coming out squeaky. "Can we - excuse me, I have to go," Tony rambled out, sending a sorry look in Pepper's direction and trying to walk out of the conference room as calmly as possible. It felt like the whole world was spinning around him, making him feel nauseous. Tony stumbled to the window and pressed his face against the cool glass, trying to soothe his heated skin and get his thoughts back in order.

It wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. Maybe it was never supposed to happen, staying as his hidden fantasy and dark secret. What if he deleted the account, right here, right now, would he be able to convince Steve that it never existed?

No. Steve wouldn't fall for it. And Tony felt so stupid for creating that account in the first place, but he needed a place to vent. He didn't plan on socializing, sharing his life, just get the urges out and move on. He just... Wanted to feel accepted. Find people who thought the same as he did. Not feel so alone.

And he would end alone because Steve definitely was going to dump him.

***

"I am back!"

Tony was a genius. He had numerous diplomas to prove it. Yet, he decided that the best thing to do would be to march into his and Steve's shared floor, acting like nothing ever happened. Maybe if he managed to keep his cool he could put this whole Tumblr thing as a social study. Just a research on kinks. No biggie. He could do this.

"Tony, come to the bedroom for a second!"

Somehow hearing Steve's voice made this situation very real and not like Tony imagined it. He couldn't say anything from the tone of Steve's voice, it was neutral, not angry, but also wasn't the cheerful, loving one Steve had towards him. On usual days, Steve would come to him, resembling an excited puppy and lick his face - kiss, Tony meant kiss, and then they would sit on the couch and share their day. Their bedroom was a private, closed space and once Tony set his foot there, there was no way back.

Feeling a nervous twist in his stomach, Tony peeked into the bedroom, just to feel if the situation was as bad as he feared. Steve was on the bed, forehead creased in thought, and was looking at the space in front of him until he spotted Tony from the corner of his eyes.

"Tony - " Steve started, sitting up straight, pulling shoulders back.

"No, Steve, I - " Tony walked into the bedroom, trying to make his voice strong. Just remember what he had planned and it would be fine. "I want to talk first, okay?"

Steve blinked and frowned lightly, but kept his lips tight. Alright, if Tony insisted.

"Okay," Tony nodded, trying to give himself some courage and began to pace around the room. "I know you found my Tumblr account," he said the obvious, struggling to keep his voice firm. "And - and it was not true, you know that, right? I just - research - an experiment to - ahh," Tony quickly got lost in his words, noticing Steve's look changing to a confused one. "I - ah, fuck, fuck, fuck - " Tony couldn't get any coherent words out and stopped and hid his face in hands. He continued to quietly curse, not knowing how to get out of this mess and not lose everything.

"Babe..."

Tony almost jumped away, when Steve came closer and wrapped arms around him. After a moment of hesitation, Tony buried himself into his soldier's arms, his face pressed against Steve's neck. Probably the last hug he would receive from Steve. This whole thing won't make Avengers stuff awkward at all. What if Steve would quit the team? Tony couldn't imagine not being able to see Steve anymore. He needed him. He would change, he would do better. Steve couldn't break up with him.

"Of course that I am not breaking up with you," Steve said suddenly, and Tony winced, not realizing he said it out loud. "Is that what you thought?" Steve asked, sounding shocked. Reluctantly, Tony nodded. Somehow he was used to being rejected and walking away from problems was one of the things he did and expected the same happen to him.

"God, Tony," Steve said in an exasperated huff, not believing how quickly this whole thing could escalate in Tony's mind. Then again, he should know, because Tony did think too much and sometimes didn't stop his thoughts on time, letting them drag him deeper and deeper. "Tony, I am not breaking up with you," Steve said again, just to make sure the words sunk in his boyfriend's head. "And I am sorry," Steve gently put his thumb and forefinger under Tony's chin, encouraging him to eye contact. 'Sorry you turned out to be messed up in the head,' Tony finished in his mind, looking into Steve's blue eyes.

"I am sorry for barging into your space when you didn't feel ready to share yet," Steve said, closing the distance between them and leaning his forehead against Tony's.

What?

Tony didn't reply, just stared, his brown eyes widening. Steve was... apologizing to him? Not the other way around?

"I read some of your blog," Steve said and Tony panicked again, Steve holding him closer when he felt brunet's body tense, "and I understand how hard it is for you to talk about it and how important it is for you. I really do. If anything, I am... a bit disappointed you didn't tell me. Why didn't you?"

Tony's mouth twisted into a scowl. He was disappointed with himself too, but it was hard. Harder than admitting that he liked being pinned down by Steve, or spanked, as it all seemed... simpler. It was obvious why people who enjoyed it were turned on by it. Tickling wasn't easy to explain.

"I wanted to," Tony finally spoke, his voice coming out quiet, "I didn't know how," this wasn't a good answer. Tony closed his eyes, not able to look at Steve. "I was embarrassed, I guess."

"Hmmm," Steve hummed in understanding, waiting for Tony to continue, but he didn't say anything more. Tony had no problems with voicing out his needs on his site, but face to face with Steve, he was fumbling and struggling for words. Anonymity gave him a sense of control which was being stripped away from him, layer by layer. Maybe with time, Tony would open more, and it was on Steve's side to nurture that vulnerable mindset until Tony would feel strong enough and confident to voice out his true needs.

"Then... can you tell me why you like it?" Steve tried, sounding gentle and not judgmental. Keeping an open mind was the key here.

"I don't know," Tony said quickly, sounding defensive. He didn't mean to, but it was stranger than him. He didn't want Steve to judge him, to think less of him, but... It was Steve. Steve who was always so understanding and didn't laugh at him and did his best to keep Tony feel accepted. It won't work if Steve would be the only one willing to share. "I guess," Tony corrected himself, trying to be more open, "I like the trust in it. And closeness," he said, tugging on Steve's clothes and hiding more into his boyfriend, "and, uh, it feels good."

"Feels good?"

"Yeah," Tony admitted, burying his heated face deeper into Steve's neck. "Feels really good. Especially when you are the one ti - doing it."

"Oh," Steve said, carding his fingers through the short hair on the back of Tony's head. Tony shivered, just slightly, from the light touch, smiling against Steve's skin and Steve felt an urge to touch him all over. This time differently, more aware and more intimate, paying closer attention to the reactions. "So... you wanna do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know what."

Tony moved away from Steve, showing a confused face. That kinda felt like mocking him, but Steve's face was honest. And it would certainly change the mood and make Tony feel better about this whole day. "I don't know," Tony said, just to be safe, "do you want to do it?"

"Heck yeah."

"What? You do?" Tony asked, his mouth falling agape at the enthusiasm.

"Sure. You like it and I like tickling you too. It's a win-win, right?"

Tony started to smile in relief. It was really happening. Steve accepted one of Tony's darkest secrets and even wanted to take part in it. Tony could barely wrap his mind around it, already feeling excited and giddy.

"So?" Steve asked again, eyes sparkling, waiting for permission from his boyfriend.

"If you keep asking, it takes the surprise factor AWAAHHAHA!" Tony's newly found boost of confidence was efficiently cut off when Steve latched hands to his sides and squeezed repeatedly. Tony doubled over in laughter and squirmed away, watching with a pounding heart as Steve followed him, smiling beautifully mischievous. "No, no, no, wait, Steve! STEHEVE!" Tony screeched in laughter when Steve ran forward, pushing Tony on the bed, and falling with him. "ACK! STE - hahaha! Waaait!" Tony wailed when fingers were going up and down his body tickling intensely. When Tony became pink in the face and a little breathless, Steve stopped, leaning in and kissing Tony's smiling lips.

"I love you, babe," Steve whispered, looking at his lover.

"I love you too," Tony answered, his heart hammering from the ticklish rush and all love he had for Steve.

"Are we good?"

"We are good," Tony assured, still not believing that everything turned out so great.

"Good," Steve smiled, and just now Tony realized that somehow both of his wrists were in soldier's hold and Steve easily pinned his hands above his head, leaving his torso exposed. "Because now," Steve said, sitting on Tony's thighs and slowly sliding his free hand under Tony's shirt. "I want to test every ticklish spot on you."

"Oh fuhahahck - " Tony wriggled uselessly, his stomach sinking in when Steve gently ran fingertips over the soft skin. "Steve, Steve, pleaheehehehese!"

"This is just your tummy and you already are so ticklish. It is a very promising start."

"Ahhahaha!"

"Oh, is this rib ticklish? How about this one? And this one?"

"GAAA HAHAHA!"

"Oh look, the higher I go, the more you laugh. Sooo, this means that when I do this -"

"PFF HAHAHAHA!"

"That's one ticklish armpit you have, babe! Let's find out if the other one is as ticklish -"

Steve was grinning, watching Tony crumbling and laughing, coming apart under his fingers. Steve was right, it was a win-win for both of them.

***

"You should write on your Tumblr."

"Huh?"

"You should," Steve repeated, rolling on completely naked Tony and kissing his lips, "write on your," a kiss on the chin, "Tumblr," Steve finished, blowing a raspberry into Tony's neck.

"HAAHAHA! Stoooop," Tony tried to swat Steve away, feeling too blissful to move. Of course that a long, intimate tickle session changed into an amazing make out. It was incredible how the tickle foreplay increased their appetite and how wonderfully responsive Tony became.

Steve laughed and rolled on his side, looking at Tony with adoration. Laughing made Tony ten times more attractive in Steve's eyes, and Tony was off the scale to start with.

"I am serious, babe," Steve tried again, gently poking his finger all over Tony's bare belly, making him squeak funnily and curl up, "write on your Tumblr. Everyone has to be worried."

"Ah hahaha... Ohkahay!" Tony agreed, shielding his stomach with one hand and using the other one to reach for his phone. "Uhh... Should I update and delete it?" Tony asked. With everything working out so great, there was no reason for him to keep that account. No more secret lusting, when he had it all in real life.

"If you want to," Steve said truthfully, "or maybe you can keep it for a bit longer because I might need some inspiration on how to take you apart."

"Ahhh, not sure if I want to give you access to that sort of power," Tony teased, opening the app. "Huh, people kinda hate you."

Steve shrugged, understanding that what he wrote, did sound menacing, even if it wasn't his intention. "Just write that we are fine and your boyfriend plans on fulfilling your each and every one tickle fantasy."

"You do?" Tony asked, voice trembling with excitement.

"All of them, babe," Steve assured, smiling broadly. He had remembered some of the things he read and gifs he saw, and could easily imagine Tony on the receiving end.

Looking enthusiastic, Tony got to writing. Soon, Steve got up and leaned over Tony's shoulder, looking at the screen.

'Hi, guys. Sorry for the sudden silence but as you saw we had a situation here. It is all good now, me and BF talked, and he turned to be all sweet about it, not bragging, I just had my first tickle session and it was amazing! So, I just wanted to give you an update, that I am fine. More than fine. My BF said that I can keep this Tumblr if I want to and he will even use it as an inspiration, so aaaah, can't wait. Just don't give him any ideas! I am gonna talk to you all soon, but for now, I and my BF have plans. See you later!'

After the post got published, Tony and Steve didn't have to wait for a reaction.

'AAAAH! I AM SO GLAD EVERYTHING IS FINE! YOU BOYS HAVE FUN NOW!'

'Awesome, couple goals.'

'That's great, dude, but I hope your BF apologized.'

"That's the one that doesn't like me, right?" Steve squinted his eyes, pointing at the last comment. Tony laughed and nosed Steve's cheek playfully.

"It is okay, I like you," he smiled. "Do you want to have a nickname? That will make it much easier for me to write when you are involved."

"Um, sure," Steve said, not entirely sold on the idea, but not wanting to shot Tony's idea down. "You call yourself Spare Parts Man, right?" Steve asked and Tony nodded. "Soooo... How about you call me Iron Man?"

Tony's smile dropped in surprise, and he laughed mockingly. "Seriously, dude?"

"Hey, the darkest place is under the candle," Steve said, sounding defensive.

"Fine," Tony agreed, rolling his eyes dramatically. He reblogged the post and added an update.

'BF wants you to call him Iron Man. I know, lame.'

"Ack!" Tony almost dropped his phone when Steve scoldingly pinched his side. Soon the first comments came.

'Ah you sound like a superhero couple, how cute!'

'I am shipping you both. #relationshipgoals'

'Wow, your BF is not very creative, isn't he? But fine, let it be IRON MAN.'

"Write to this one that I don't like them either," Steve hissed, looking at the last comment.

Tony laughed and turned to Steve, pressing their lips together in a kiss. Long and sweet. The kind of kiss that was the perfect happy ending to a tickle kink coming out story.

"Oh, interesting!" Steve suddenly said, ending the kiss too soon and looking at one of the comments, smiling wickedly.

"What is int - noooooo!" Tony wailed, understanding the reason behind the smile. It was stronger than him and Tony started to panic. "It is a lie, Steve! Don't believe the lieeee no no aaah HELP!"

Steve laughed, wrestling Tony down and pinning his hands once again. If Tony was already getting this worked up, there was no way Steve would back up.

"No, please!" Tony giggled, kicking his legs, trying to wriggle away, as Steve's menacingly moving fingers were getting closer and closer. "I cahahahan't!"

Somehow, Steve didn't believe him. Instead, he believed the comment.

'Hey, this is for Iron Man - I am sure you know already, that SP's stomach is really ticklish, but did you try tickling his belly button specifically? From what SP writes it is a very ticklish outie. Have fun!'

When Steve pressed his finger over Tony's outie delicately and Tony burst into giggling, almost maniacal laughter, Steve was in heaven. It was settled, Tony was keeping his blog for further tips for Steve.

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #stevetony #tickling #tickle kink #tickle fic #upperbody tickling #fanfic #fanfiction

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enigma-im · 4 years ago

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Wanted Dead or Alive

Prompt #10

Subject: Weapon play Monster: Orc

Orc hunts a criminal through the woods, get a little in over his head

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

He isn't subtle, not that one should expect an orc to be. Though thinking himself as being stealthy is cute, after a week of this it becomes less so. I'm almost tempted to confront him and get the meeting over with so I can be on my way. Still, this game hasn't grown tiresome yet. Perhaps a few more days, to test his patience a bit.

His limbering steps echo in my ears, making them twitch every time he interacts with a crunchy leaf or twig. At this point, I'm just curious if he knows I'm aware of him or he is just that stupid. Perhaps I give the man too little credit, maybe he is playing the long con. Make the enemy underestimate you. Though I don't believe him smart enough for that. Today though I assume he feels bolder, getting close enough for me to hear his breathing. Hear his heart fluttering around in his chest. His nervous beating catches my attention though. A new exploit I look forward to using.

He is young, and now I'm intrigued.

Hunters, especially bounty hunters, have a tendency to keep towards the older generation. Nothing against young adults, it just this career favors the experienced over that untried. The middle-aged have the triumphs of safe ventures under their belt, not likely to fret over the nerves of a hunt. this may explain his tedious stalking and loud as hell steps.

The sunset holds a captivating sight as I set up camp. With the tent pitched at the peak of dusk and fire burning bright I settle with my dinner. Some dried meats and nearly inedible bread. Not a meal meant for a queen or any such royalty but one fit for an outlaw. All I need now is some wise-cracking henchmen and I will truly be worthy of such hateful praises the good folk spit my way.

As I mindlessly nibble on the stale bread I hear my friend lumber about again. He fidgets with some leave before ceasing his extremely loud actions. Seems he is also settling for the night. As he has grown bolder with his nearness I feel that tonight is the night he will make his assault. I smile into my food at the thought. I have been eagerly awaiting our meeting ever since I first heard his steps.

Waiting has always been one of my strong suits; patience is truly a virtue. This virtue pays off tonight as I fight off rest in my tent to finally catch eyes with the ever 'talented' hunter. I pinch my skin and wiggle my fingers and toes to keep awake. This buffoon might have fallen asleep, I think as midnight approaches. I swear if that idiot leaves me waiting again I will-

A snap of a branch stops my inner monologue. The annoyance gets ghosted by anticipation as the sounds get closer. When I hear his labored breathing then do I shut my eyes and feint rest.

The tent flap is gently brushed aside as the orc enters. I can hear the soft steps the come nearer. I can almost taste his nervous energy in the air, his sweat suffocating the space. Each little step ramps up my heart, almost convinced he could hear how excited I am to finally meet him. His breath ghosts over me, the barely noticeable sound of a blade being taken from its sheath echoes in my ear. He takes in a large inhale before I leap from the bed.

I catch him off guard, knocking the blade from his hand as my own startles him back. He falls to the ground with a thud, landing on his rear before I force him on his back. I straddle his chest, keeping my knees on his bicep. My knife rests at his throat, a wild gleam in my eye as I finally look upon the vermin who has been stalking me.

My first thought is of his attractiveness. I was correct in assuming he was young, perhaps at the limit of my guestimation but still considered youthful. He is definitely well above age to be wedded, nearing his more trying years. His facial hair is cleaned kept, close to his chin but still full. His hair has a similar cut, kept shaved close to his head. It's an unusual look for an orc, most I've met have had long flowing locks decorated with braids and beads. He is outside the norm on many fronts it seems.

"Well, handsome, we finally meet," I tease. The man doesn't answer, instead snarling at me as if that would will me to get off him. At my unflinching gaze, he takes to lifting his arms, trying to roll my knees off him. I press the blade closer to his throat, nicking him a bit. As his blood trickles down his throat his efforts cease.

"If you wish to kill me then get on with it already," the orc growls out. He holds my gaze, glaring hard with a brave front.

I scoff at him," you assume I wish to murder you?"

"Of course," he tsks, "What else would a criminal do with a bounty hunter?" I snort at his words, too amused with his confidence when he says 'bounty hunter'. He is hardly worthy of the title but it's still adorable.

"A criminal could do a lot of things with a bounty hunter such as yourself. Especially such a handsome one," I grin. His brave sneer twists to subtle confusion. My grin widens at the sight," something wrong about what I just said, orc?" for the first time since he has shown up he looks away, nibbling on his lip as he does. I'm almost convinced to say he is blushing. The sight thrills me, empowering me to grab his face and point it back towards mine.

"Such a handsome, rugged face," I stroke my thumb over his lip, guiding the flesh away from his teeth," clearly haven't seen many fights. Your face holds no scars unlike your kin normally does. It makes me curious if the rest of you has any battle wounds." I trail my thumb over his tusk before going lower to the wound on his neck. I roll my knees off his arms, wiggling down his chest so I can lick the blood off of him. His body stiffens, his neck going taunt. I can't help but sit up, meeting his confused face with a grin.

"What are you doing," he asks. I don't bother answering, instead, looking down at his shirt. He has forgone armor, having only normal clothes on. A light-colored shirt with laces at the top is all the keeps his torso safe. Either he is smart enough to wear this in the hopes of silence or stupid enough to enter danger with no protection. I notice a bit of chest hair poking through the top. Investigating further I trail the knife from his collar to the shirt. The tip of the blade flicks the laces, cutting it easily. Out the corner of my eye, I see the orc's hands raise slowly.

"Don't think about it," I dig the tip of the knife into his sternum, twisting it slightly. His arms fall flat, his body still stiff as I continue. I shred the top half of his shirt, parting the fabric with a interested quirk of a brow. His chest is broad, strong, and littered with hair. Burly man. Curious, I pet a finger down his chest. I investigate his torso, parting the clothing more to find his nipple. The pebbled nub is barely visible amongst the forest of hair. I can't help but lean down and take a lick. The instant my tongue touched him his stomach clenched, his heart beating loudly against his ribs.

"What are you doing," he asks again, this time with a strain to his voice. Once again I don't answer. I sit up, looking up at his extremely conflicted face. I pass him a grin before sliding down his body again. Resting over his lap I rip the rest of the shirt in half. The sound of the shredding fabric makes him jump, bucking his hips into mine by accident. Still, I feel a bulge against my ass. Though not fully hard enough to tent, it still holds notice. I grind into him, feeling his semi-hard cock. Meeting his eyes I grin smugly. He turns away with another blush.

Now too interested in his growing erection I slide over him once more, revealing the ties to his pants. Grabbing the knife again I take to unfastening him. The laces fall apart easily, his bulge helping the fabric part. I pull his clothes down to his thighs, completely lost at the sight of his cock resting against his stomach. He is just as hairy as the rest of him.

"Well isn't that a sight," I purr. Nearly drooling I grab him in a loose fist, holding his hardening member in my hand. I feel the weight of him in my palm, my crotch throbbing at the view. "Not the smartest of the bunch but you are gifted in other places I see," I tease. I look up at him, grinning at his flustered face. His hands are clenched at his sides making the sight more fulfilling. I think I'm quite taken with this orc.

Grinning from ear to ear I decide to lay on my stomach between his sprawled legs. I rest my arms on his stomach, his erections nestled against my shoulder close to my cheek. The knife hangs lazily in my hand, the tip indenting the skin on his hip. I think for a moment, listening to the uneven breathing of the orc below me.

"I like you," I nuzzle against his cock with my cheek," not many catch my attention but you are very different from the hardened warriors I've met before. I think I might keep you."

The orc huffs," as much as I'm flattered by your admiration I have to decline the offer." I snort, leaning back a bit to press a kiss to his cock. He grunts at the gesture, his thighs twitching.

"That’s cute you think you have a choice," I grab him, slapping his cock to my cheek before pulling the skin back to press a kiss to his tip. His eyes nearly roll shut. His stomach, along with his thighs, clenching. "Yea, your mine now," I lick up his shaft before letting him go. As his cock rests back against my shoulder he chokes on a whimper, seeming to fight it off at the end. It was damn cute of an attempt.

I look to my knife resting against his body. Holding it firmer in my hand I raise it over his stomach. He tenses for a new reason, the worry almost palpable. I press the tip firmly into his skin, enough to breakthrough. He grunts as I trail it down, making a bleeding line.

"The orc who stalked me for weeks, it's almost flattering," I joke as I continuing carving up his stomach, " the orc with no armor, short cut hair, and a huge dick. It feels almost like a gift." he grunts and twitches, watching me slice into his skin. His lack of thrashing and fighting is nice, his precum dripping from his tip is more so. A grunt of pain sounds more like a moan of pleasure when I dig just a bit deeper on the next line. I pause in my assault, looking up at him with a sly grin. He blushes once more, turning away with a guilty look. "Kinky, cute, and strong. It must be my birthday," I laugh.

I sit up, looking down at my handy work. My name scrawled across his stomach is a view to behold. The orc even looks down, rolling his eyes before he falls back to the ground. His hips roll, his tip poking at my neck reminding me of my previous task. I switch my attention, sighing gratefully at his leaking cock. The sight would make a nun faint, perhaps even make his own kind weary. The orc cut up with a criminal's name now tattooed onto his skin with his pants torn around his thighs and his cock about to be in someone's mouth. Oh, what a sight he makes.

I admire his cock some more, even taken with the view of his balls. The bloodied knife trails down his hips to his thighs. I use the flat part to lift his sack, leaning down to press a kiss to them. His musky scent is prevalent now, almost dizzying. I carefully slide the knife out from under his sensitive anatomy before applying it to another sensitive area. His most pronounced vein is the perfect spot to trail the tip of the knife against. I keep full attention on my blade as his cock twitches against it. Be a waste to ruin the fun before it got to finish.

"Woman, have pity," the orc growls out. I almost forgotten about him, way too focused on admiring the way his prick jumps and throbs, dribbling drool down its shaft. Beautiful.

"Hmm? You need something," I rest my cheek on my hand. I wiggle his cock using the flat of the knife, watching as a drop of precum slides onto it. He grunts again, trying in vain to hold his hips back from bucking against such a dangerous weapon.

"Cease with your teasing," he snaps. His tone is demanding like he has any say in how I give my attention. I glare up at him, he glares back. It is almost adorable to see him try to be threatening, especially when I'm the one holding the knife. With a fighting grin, I lift the knife up, raising it well over his cock. His glare fades as worry takes its place. His eyes bounce from me to the knife, a fearful question attempting to leave his lips as his body fights against itself to sit up and run. With a flick of my brow, I bring the knife down.

The knife cuts through the air towards his scrotum, barely missing it as it punctures the ground below. The sigh of relief is amusing, as well as the sight of the knife hidden between his legs. I look from that to him, almost baiting him to snap at me again. Instead, a chuckle erupts from his throat.

"Please, you wild woman you, will you please make me cum," he smiles. The toothy grin is precious; heartwarming and panty-dropping. I fall for his plead, grabbing his cock and stroking him. The sigh of gratification is loud.

I admire the way his stomach twitches roles as I jerk him off. The drying blood on his stomach is beautiful against the letters. A thrill of satisfaction rolls through me at the possessive statement. He is mine now.

Growing more giving with the pleasing tones of his rising groans I take his tip into my mouth. I clean the precum off him, slathering him with my spit before taking him further in. his back arches as a cry rips from his mouth. I see his hands raise up to grab me but fall back down into fists. I give pity, reaching over and letting him grab a fistful of hair. He pets a strand from around my face before grabbing his fistful, guiding my head along his cock.

His cries and whimpers thrill me. I palm his balls as I bob, racing him to his finish as quickly as possible. I want to taste him, to feel his load jet down my throat. Just the thought of it makes me needy. He pulls my head up to his tip before he quickly thrusts his hips upwards. He uses my mouth for his pleasure, using me to reach his end.

With a few more thrusts he slams my head down onto him. I choke at the suddenness of having my throat clogged. The forceful action is forgiven as he treats me to his cries of peaking pleasure. His load spirts into my throat. I swallow it, gulping around him as I take all he gives. He keeps my head down while he slowly relaxes. Soon letting go and falling lax to the ground.

I sit up, wiping the bit of drool and seed from around my lips. I grin up at him, watching his relaxed face. I take to standing up and looking at the mess I made. His shirt is ripped down the middle to present is broad chest, my name carved into his stomach. His pants are kept around his thighs just above his knees, the knife still resting between said clothing and his balls. His cock rests flaccid on his hip, covered in spit and cum. Now, this is a sight I could treasure always.

I finally meet his eyes as I once again admire his body. His grin is lazy but relaxed. He reaches a hand up to me, asking me without words to join him on the floor. I agree, falling to my knees beside him. He grabs my shoulder, forcing me down into a kiss. The sudden action is alarming, especially after what I've done to him. His lips are soft, the tusks are strange, and his taste is similar to that of ale.

"Thank you," he mumbles against my lips.

"For what," I ask, stealing a kiss before he could answer.

He scoffs," For what? For everything you have done. I would have never guessed that something as threatening and terrifying as you would be so damn sexy."

"Kinky bastard," I laugh. He laughs along with me, wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me to his side. He tries to tease a finger under my nightshirt but I stop him.

"Not tonight," I scold playfully.

"then another night," he asks hopefully. The idea of a future night like this is nice. Though some errands have to be ran first before that.

His ruined shirt is removed along with the knife that still rests between his legs. We find ourselves resting on the floor though a perfectly good cot sits inches away. Shortly after he falls asleep, worn from the night he had. I give him one last look before sneaking out of his arms.

The light shines through the tent entrances as morning comes. I watch as the orc comes to, groaning as he wakes. He starts to lift his arms but finds them bound together over his stomach. His confusion grows as he notices his feet bound in the same fashion. The orc quickly looks around the room settling his sights on me with a sneer.

"What are you doing," he asks. I look him over lazily, twirling our knife in my hand.

"Saying goodbye," I answer before adding," for now." he glares, beginning to fight against the ropes as he sits up.

"Like hell you are," he growls. I watch him try to wiggle his hands-free, knowing he wouldn't be successful just yet.

"relax, I said for now. You think I'm going to claim you then ditch you. That's just trashy," I scoff," no, I just have some things to take care of before I can whisk you away, or whatever a lovely way of saying that is."

"So you are just going to leave me here defenseless till you come back," he snaps as he continues fighting the binds.

"Course not. I want you alive when I come back," I walk towards him. He ceases his pointless struggling as watches me with frustration and anger in his eyes. I can't help but cup his face, leaning in to peck his lips. His anger fades but frustration still stands proud.

"Don't go," he grumbles. His tone makes my heartthrob. I pet his cheek once more before lifting the knife to catch his attention. He sits up, excited at the prospect of being untied. Instead of doing just that I toss the knife across the room. The weapon sticks into the ground, standing up just in the corner of the tent. He growls once his attention falls to me.

"I have some things to deal with and I don't need you following me so here is what is going to happen. First, I'm going to leave then you are going to crawl to that knife and get yourself free. By then I'll be long gone but don't fret. In one week I want you to meet me by Spearhead River near Hartford. I will set up camp there and patiently await your arrival. Is that clear," I ask. He doesn't answer, keeping his anger despite all I said. "I said am I clear," I say louder. He slowly nods.

I give him one more smile and a kiss before grabbing my things and leaving. At the tent's entrance I give him one last longing look. I'm going to miss that handsome face.

"You better be prepared when I find you, there is going to be consequences," he threatens with an amused sneer.

"I look forward to it," I blow him a kiss before stepping out of view.

A week later I sit in my cabin reading near candlelight. The storm outside rages, tinging against the glass with great vigor. I try to invest in my story, ignoring the pang of anxiety nestled in my chest. It's hardly been a day since I've come home but the fear of being rejected is fierce. That night was hardly something that anyone would come back to. It was very demeaning and emasculating, I imagine. Though he never rejected my advancements and seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed it doesn't really mean anything. It's not a given that he would want to come back.

As my mind wanders I hear the clap of thunder, startling me from my wanderings. The sound wasn't like the ones before, too close and deep to be thunder. Before I can think more about it the sound echoes again. This time I know where it's coming from. A new fear sits in my stomach as the door rattles on its hinges. It bangs again and again until the door swings open to slam against the wall.

The silhouette of a tall man fills the archway, the lightning brightens his features just briefly. The sight is thrilling, erasing the fear from before.

"Found you," he purrs.

"So you have."

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It took a lot to stop myself from writing more on this. i kind of like them.

Last weekend! almost done with all the prompts, just two more left.

Complete Series

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#orc boyfriend #orcs are hot #Enigma-IM #Prompt series #prompt 10 #exophilia #monster boyfriend

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creativewritingpracticestudio · 5 years ago

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Pretty Little Pin-Up Girl(John 5 x Reader)[Smut]

@send-in-the-clownss thank you for this amazingly creative request🥺I’m so sorry for the long, long wait, this was so cool to write! I really hope you like it! This is in 1998/99, before Marilyn and Dita got together(so John and him know who she is enough to confuse you for her, but not enough for her to be in the story.)

Description: While performing with Marilyn Manson at a concert, John 5 spots a woman in the crowd with a striking resemblance to Dita Von Teese. He’s immediately intrigued, and he makes it his goal to meet you after the show. The meeting goes..very well, to say the least.

Warnings: Smut, cursing, mentions of alcohol and drugs, typical edgy MM concert stuff

Permanent Taggers: @smokeandmirrorz @overlyobsessedfangirl @holyjunkie @slashevilsister @julessworldd @agroupiewhore @comawhxte666

“(Y/n), do you think Marilyn Manson will notice me in this outfit? Be honest.” You glanced up from your compact mirror and took in your friend’s outfit. Fishnets, black skirt, corset. “Definitely. Just put on some lipstick and you’re good to go!” Your friend nodded and grabbed a tube of black lipstick from her dresser. You finished applying your own blood red lipstick, examined it in the compact mirror, and smiled.

“How do I look?” You spun around once to give your friend a good look at your outfit. You’d styled your hair in a Marilyn Monroe-esque way, done your typical cat-eye and lipstick, and worn an elegant short white button-up cocktail dress with red heels. “Beautiful, but you look more like you’re going to a dinner party at Dita Von Teese’s house than to an MM concert.” You laughed. “Good. That’s what I was going for!”

Your friend shook her head. “You’re a strange girl, (Y/n). But we look amazing! Let’s go, I don’t want to be late. We didn’t get backstage passes for nothing!” She grabbed your arm and almost dragged you out the door, and within minutes the two of you were off. “I’m telling you, (Y/n), Marilyn’s gonna see me and instantly fall in love and break up with Rose McGowan for me!” You laughed. “I think John 5 is cuter, babe.” She playfully rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

———————-

The two of you had gotten front row tickets, which came with the passes, and were now standing right in front of the stage. “Dude, this is perfect! There’s no way Marilyn won’t be able to see me from here.” You nodded, checking your vintage pocket-watch. “It should be starting any minute now.” Sure enough, right as you said that, the lights went down and the people of the venue began to cheer loudly.

Your friend grabbed your arm and squeezed. “Marilyn!” You followed her eyes to see Marilyn coming from the side of the stage. You smiled, but your excitement wasn’t peaked until you spotted the blond guitarist himself, John 5, making his way behind Marilyn. You grinned, cheering loudly as the lights came back on and the first song began. They played the most popular songs from Mechanical Animals first.

About halfway through, they began playing Coma White, one of your favorite songs. You cheered, loudly singing along to the lyrics of the song; when the chorus came, you could have sworn that John 5 glanced in your direction and widened his eyes, but when you blinked he had turned his attention back to his guitar playing. Your friend elbowed your side. “Did John 5 just look at you?” You shrugged, slightly shocked.

Although you brushed it off as a one-time thing, this was soon proven wrong when the band began to play “User Friendly”, and John 5 started glancing over at you every few seconds with that same shocked look on his face. Clearly, something about you had caught his eye. The attention made you blush, and when he stared at you for a full 10 seconds during the chorus, you shyly waved at him and smiled. He smirked and waved back, a look of interest now clear on his face. He barely looked away again.

When the show finally ended, you and your friend made your way to the VIP area to meet the band. “I’m telling you, (Y/n), Marilyn looked at me a couple times. He has to be interested.” You smiled as she went on about how her and the singer were gonna get married and have two children together, still thinking about how John 5 had looked at you so much during the show. Surely it didn’t mean anything...right?

The two of you waited in line for about a half hour, excitement brewing up at the fact that you were going to get to meet your idols. Time passed very quickly, and soon enough the two of you were at the front of the line. You walked into a large room, where Manson, Twiggy, John 5 and the others were all sitting at a table with posters to autograph. John immediately perked up at the sight of you, and Marilyn shot him a look. Clearly, they had been talking about you.

Your friend excitedly walked up to Marilyn and began talking at a fast pace about how much she loved him and how great his show was. He looked completely overwhelmed, which Twiggy seemed to find hilarious. You slowly walked up to John 5, who was at the end of the table, and smiled. “Hello.” He smiled back, pushing his blonde hair out of his face as he leaned forward on his elbows. “Hello there. Did you like the show?” You nodded. “Yes, it was amazing! You’re a very talented guitarist, I must say.”

John’s smile widened, and Twiggy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What?” Twiggy leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and John pulled away, glanced up at you and cleared his throat. “So, what’s your name?” You giggled and stuck your hand out to shake his. “It’s (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).” He shook your hand. “That’s a beautiful name. You know, I couldn’t help but notice, you remind me an awful lot of someone but I just can’t put my finger on it.” You smiled knowingly. “Let me guess. Dita Von Teese.”

He nodded. “Yes! That’s it. How’d you know?” You laughed. “I get that a lot. She was actually my fashion inspiration, so it makes sense.” You pulled out your vintage compact and checked your lipstick in it, and then put it back in your bag. John 5 looked impressed. “Good choice. She’s beautiful. Not quite as pretty as you, though.” You blushed and glanced down with a shy smile. “Oh, thank you very much. That’s so sweet of you.” The two of you awkwardly looked at each other for a few seconds, and Twiggy elbowed John again, this time much harder.

John 5 glared at him and mumbled, “Okay, okay, I get it!”, under his breath before turning back to you. “Say, why don’t you stick around and hang out with me for a little while after this VIP thing? Just for a couple hours or so.” You bit your lip in thought, feeling a wave of excitement at the fact that John 5 of all people wanted to hang out with you, and then nodded towards your friend. “She’s my ride home.” John smirked. “Aw, she can hang with Brian for a bit. Isn’t that right, Brian?” Marilyn glared at him warningly, but your friend gasped in excitement. “Yes, yes, fuck yes! Holy shit!”

John 5 had the two of you sit on the bench behind the band’s table while you waited, and your friend spent the entire time whispering very loudly to you about how she was gonna get dick from the Marilyn Manson. It was especially funny when Marilyn glanced back at the two of you with a slightly terrified look, and your friend immediately began whispering about how Marilyn had looked at her and that clearly meant he wanted to smash. The rest of the VIP took an hour, which you spent reading a pocket-sized book that you had brought along. Occasionally, John would look back and smile.

When the VIP was over, John 5 and Twiggy got up and walked over to you. “(Y/n), this is Jeordie.” You smiled and reached out for a handshake. “How do you do?” Jeordie didn’t reply, just smiled goofily and giggled. “He’s high, sorry.” You laughed. “That’s quite alright. So, where are we gonna go? I heard Marilyn say he’s going to the tour bus.” John 5 smirked and looked over at his singer, who was currently being suffocated by your friend. “Actually, I was thinking you and me could go hang out in one of the backstage rooms for a little while.” You nodded. “That sounds lovely. Is Jeordie coming, too?” Jeordie giggled again.

John grimaced and shook his head. “No way. Jeordie, you go with Brian and the rest of the guys.” Jeordie frowned and made a protest, but John shot him a death glare and he finally gave up and slumped away. John 5 held his arm out and grinned. “My lady.” You chuckled and linked arms with him, biding your best friend goodbye and telling her where to meet you at afterwards, and followed him to the backstage area of the concert. He led you to a backstage room, which contained a loveseat couch and a mirror vanity with tons of makeup supplies on it. “This is Brian’s. Don’t tell him we went in here, he’ll stab me with an eyebrow pencil.”

You giggled and crossed the room to the couch, sitting on it with one ankle crossed over the other. John sat beside you, staring at you with an awed look on his face. “What is it?” He shook his head with a grin. “I don’t know, I’m just surprised that someone like you came to a Marilyn Manson concert. You’re so elegant and classy and shit. I mean, most of the people who come to our shows are violent and trashy and all that, so you stuck out like a sore thumb. I like trashy and violent, of course, but you’re a nice change of pace. Do you have a boyfriend or a friend with benefits or anything? I just can’t imagine someone like you doesn’t have people lining up at her door trying to score a date.”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend or anything like that. You’d be surprised, I don’t have that many suitors. I think the way I dress and act scares some people. And besides, I have a very specific type.” John 5 smirked. “And what would that type be?” You took out your compact and reapplied your lipstick, and then boldly shut it and smiled. “Oh, well, I’ve always had a bit of a thing for guitar players.” John’s grin widened, and he played along. “Really? Go on.” You crossed one leg over the other and pondered the subject some more. “I also really like blonde hair.” The guitar player raised an eyebrow. “Blonde? Wow. Continue.”

You struggled to contain your smile as the tongue-in-cheek conversation continued. “And there’s nothing I find more attractive than a guy in face paint. Do you know anyone like that? Guitarist, blonde hair, face paint?” John 5 pretended to think it over for a moment and then shook his head. “No, I don’t think I do.” You pretended to be disappointed. “Hm, that’s unfortunate. If I ever saw a guy like that, I’d probably just take my clothes off right then and there.” John 5 grinned and snapped his fingers. “Ah, now wait a minute. I forgot, I do know someone like that, he’s right here in this room!”

“Really?” You played dumb, looking around in confusion. “Where is he?” John reached out and cupped your cheeks in his hands and turned your face to look at him. “Right here.” You grinned, the two of you leaning closer to each other, lips just an inch apart. “Wow. You are my type.” John smirked. “So, what were you saying about taking your clothes off?” You grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him up to you, smashing your lips together in a passion-filled frenzy. His hands immediately went up to cradle your face, and yours wrapped around his neck. He pushed you down onto the couch, his body flat on top of yours, and you could feel his bulge already starting to form.

His lips never left yours as he moved his hands down to disappear under your dress, rubbing and caressing your thighs with his slightly rough hands and causing the skirt to move up to your mid-thigh in the process. His fingers lightly rubbed your clit through your panties, and you moaned into the kiss. He finally pulled away, lips slightly reddened from your lipstick, and smirked. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you in the crowd.” You smiled coyly. “Do it, then.” John pulled your skirt all the way up to expose your panties, and unbuttoned the front of your dress to expose your lacy bra. He immediately started groping at your breasts, pulling them out of the bra to squeeze them.

You moaned at the pleasure, and he pinched and teased your nipples with his skilled fingers. “Like that, baby?” You nodded eagerly, and he moved his hands away to instead pull your panties aside, immediately pushing a finger inside of you. “Fuck, you’re dripping wet. And your pussy is so fucking tight.” You spread your legs wider, and he pushed another finger inside you. You clenched around the digits and bit your lip. John reached down and palmed at his bulge as he took in your appearance, and you stared at it. “Need help with that, rockstar?” He grinned and nodded eagerly, and pulled his fingers out of you, sucking the juices off as he went to unbutton and unzip his tight pants.

You reached your hand into his pants to help him pull it out, and he moaned as you wrapped a hand around the base. It was at least 9 inches long and decently thick. You slowly pumped a hand up his shaft, rubbing your thumb over the tip, and he moved the head closer to your mouth. You took the hint and leaned closer, wrapping your lips around the tender head and suckling it. John 5 cursed under his breath and jerked his hips just slightly, and you could already taste his precum in your mouth. After a minute or so, he pulled you off his cock and smiled. “Better save it for the best part.”

You leaned back on the couch and relaxed, and he placed one hand beside you on the couch to steady himself as he used the other to line his cock up with your entrance. “Ready, baby?” You nodded eagerly, and he pushed inside you, immediately stretching your walls out as he kissed up and down your neck and played with your nipples to distract you from the slight pain. After a moment, he began a steady pace, fucking you slowly and roughly as he left a trail of hickies from your neck down to your breasts. “Faster, baby, fuck.” John went faster, holding your hips down with hand to steady himself.

You could feel the knot in your belly starting to come undone, and you pulled him down to smash your lips against his; he sucked on your bottom lip and leaned his forehead against yours, a look of pure bliss on his face. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight and wet, baby. So fucking sexy. You gonna cum for me?” You gasped in pleasure as his tip rubbed against your g-spot, and he smirked. “Right there, baby?” You nodded desperately and threw your head back as he began repeatedly hitting that same spot, and you could tell he was as close to cumming as you were. “Baby, I’m so close!”

“Cum for me baby, fuck, I’m close too!” Your pussy tightened around him as you came, moaning loudly as your toes curled and your eyes rolled back in your head. John 5 came almost as soon as you did, biting down on your neck as he filled your pussy with his cum. When the both of you had finished, heavily panting and worn out, he laid his head down on your chest and soaked in the feeling of his orgasm. “Fuck, that was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had in my life. You’re so fucking amazing.” He kissed your neck, and then pulled away, helping you button up your dress and pull up your panties and then helping himself.

You smiled bashfully. “That was amazing. You’re not so bad yourself..” You took your compact out to fix your makeup and your hair, and then turned to John, who had waited patiently by the door. “I wish we could spend some time together and cuddle, but Manson and the tour bus are leaving soon. Could I have your number? There’s no way I can just let you go without getting it.” You laughed and scribbled your number down on a scrap of paper, and then handed it to him and followed him out to the tour bus. Sure enough, Marilyn was standing in front of the bus, trying to get your friend to stop hugging him so tightly.

“(Y/n)! Me and Marilyn had so much fun together! What did you and John 5 do?” You and John exchanged a look, and you smirked. “Oh, you know, we just talked. Come on, we ought to get out of here now before traffic gets bad. You guys did an amazing set tonight, thanks for giving us some of your time!” John 5 hugged you goodbye; your friend tried to hug Marilyn, but he hurriedly ran into the tour bus and wouldn’t come out, much to Twiggy’s amusement. Your friend left to find the car, and as you were following her, you stopped to wave goodbye to John 5 and Twiggy, giving John a meaningful look that he returned.

“Call me.” You mouthed, and he nodded hurriedly. “Most definitely.” You blew him a kiss, and he caught it with a grin. You giggled one more time, waved to the both of them, and then turned and walked off gracefully to catch up with your friend. John 5 turned to climb back onto the bus, and Twiggy flashed him a drugged-up grin. “Damn, who was that girl? Looked like that one chick, what’s her name, Dina Van Fleece or something? Pinup girl.” John 5 shook his head with a laugh. “Yeah. She’s a pinup girl, Twiggy.” Twiggy boarded the bus, and John glanced in the direction you’d gone in. You were just a dot now, too far away to distinguish any features. John 5 whispered to just himself. “My pretty little pinup girl.”

#john 5 #john 5 x reader #john lowery #marilyn manson #brian warner #brian hugh warner #twiggy ramirez #jeordie white #ginger fish #tim skold #pogo #dita von teese #nu metal #industrial rock #industrial metal #john 5 smut #marilyn manson smut #marilyn manson x reader #madonna wayne gacy

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imtrynnawriteshit · 5 years ago

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Jacob Frye x Female!Reader (2! Looks like I’m actually going through with this! Hooray!)

Oh wow it’s been uh a while

This is v conversation heavy? Is that how you describe things??

Well, it is now hehehe

Something I forgot to mention the last time: the slang that I’m using is not entirely period appropriate? I mean, it somewhat is, but I’m also mixing up years and classes of people who used them (because I cannot be arsed to sit and sort everything out class and period wise)

If it seems like I only stick to a couple of letters worth of slang, that’s because I’ve only just gotten to ones that start with D. It’s a whole process and I’m lazy

Also, I know absolutely nothing about business and I like to think I can be clever, so if the whole thing just sounds way too dramatic, I’m srry, I cannot business at all

But I tried and that’s what counts, right? :D

Hope u enjoy luv u

Words: 1608

Warnings: One (1) damn, not properly edited (maybe I’ll do it l8r though), might get v pretentious (I’m trying to channel my inner Victorian) :((

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed (Syndicate)

Characters: Jacob Frye, Reader

Relationships: Jacob Frye x Reader but like, still business-y (as if I know what that means)

Fortunately, you'd managed to avoid Mr. Starrick finding out about your unexpected little detour. Rather unfortunately, though, your driver seemed to have left town - you'd seen neither hide nor hair of him for the past week or so.

Not that you had the time to look for him, of course. You'd been entirely focused on building the company up again, regaining all the profits you'd lost after Pearl's death, so much so that you'd even forgotten Mr. Frye was due for a visit.

Until he showed up in a manner suited to one of his particular disposition.

You'd visited one of your friends that afternoon for a cup of tea, briefly putting aside the contracts and accounts you were constantly pouring over. Your departure soon after found you feeling lighter, the tension not weighing down your shoulders for once.

Though you did your best to counter it, of course. God forbid it ruin your posture.

Mind immediately wandering to the paperwork you had left, you approached your carriage (which, despite having been discreetly sent off to get fixed up, still bore a few scratches from your misadventure). The new driver already held the door open, arm extended to help you in. It was only when you glanced at him, nodding your gratitude, hand firmly in his grasp, that you realized it wasn’t, in fact, your recent employ.

It was Mr. Frye.

You let out a rather un-ladylike groan as you sat down.

"Please tell me you didn’t scare this one off too. I can't exactly afford the habit of interviewing for drivers."

His eyes widened in mock-innocence before he shut the door, getting on to the bench and taking the reins, all the while running his mouth about how he'd "never" and he was "appalled" you thought so little of him.

Good heavens.

"Yes, alright, but will he be back?"

"He'll meet you at Trafalgar Square in an hour," he sighed, urging the horse into a steady trot.

You frowned, "But that's only five minutes away."

"Which gives us fifty-five to talk, doesn't it?" he said, sounding rather exasperated. You chose to ignore that, instead peaking out the window, trying to figure out where you were headed.

"Mr. Frye, where exactly are we going?"

"Why, to the cosiest alley the district has to offer, of course!" he said, turning into one just within reach of the Square, hopping into the carriage almost as soon as he brought it to a halt.

"Well, this certainly won't rouse suspicion," you remark, peering through the window, eyebrows raised, before drawing the curtains and turning to look at him again. "Now, I presume you have something for me".

"Yes and no."

You narrowed your eyes, "That's not how it works, Mr. Frye. You either have an offer or you don't. Which is it?"

"There is something I can give you, but I'll need time to deliver on it."

"And that something is?"

Frankly, you didn’t expect much. There was barely anything he could offer that you couldn’t acquire (if you didn’t already have it) anyway.

"Complete ownership of Attaway Transport, without the added burden of Starrick's overbearing and ever-looming presence."

Or so you thought.

He managed to shock you into silent for a moment, before you shook yourself out of it and huffed out a small laugh.

"I have to say: I didn’t quite think you'd manage it, but you've captured my interest. Tell me, then; how exactly would you go about that? Mr. Starrick isn't one to just give up power."

"Luckily enough, we're looking to provide a more permanent solution to the problem of - well, him."

"Are you now?" your eyebrows shot up again, this time in intrigue, and you could feel the anticipation and excitement brewing within you at the thought of the possibilities his death could bring. If the way Mr. Frye's brow twitched in return was any indication, you weren't doing a very good job hiding it. "That certainly changes things. Though I suppose I should've known, you haven't been all that...subtle about your intentions, the way you've been running around London wreaking havoc."

"There you have it, then," he grinned, throwing an arm up over the back of the seat. "What do you say?"

You took a moment to deliberate, Mr. Frye letting you take the time you needed to come to a decision once you shot him a look when he started getting antsy, stopping him before he could get much further than "I don't mean to badger you but-". You could see the eagerness in the way he'd leaned ever so slightly towards you, in how his eyes remained trained on you, analyzing every shift in your features, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on in your head, of the decision you'd come to.

Well, there was certainly no doubt about what your answer was going to be. It was, however, quite endearing, the way he impatiently awaited your response.

Probably best you put him out of his misery, though, and so you offered him your hand.

"It appears," you smiled, "you have yourself a deal, Mr. Frye. I do hope you can hold up your end, and as shall I to the best of my abilities."

His face relaxed, and he took your hand, shaking it firmly. Though you expected it, the warmth of his grip, even through both his and your own glove, still left you pleasantly surprised.

"I must admit, however," you withdrew your hand, "I am curious: why trust me? After everything that's happened? Some might think you all the more barmy for it."

"Crotchetty as I may seem," he shot back, "I'll admit, I'm not exactly spoiled for choice when it comes to allies who can provide me better insight into Templar plans. You don't seem to care for the Order either, which is reassuring. To an extent. Naturally you'll have to earn my trust before I let Evie know about this little arrangement-"

"You haven't told your sister?"

"'Course not," he scoffed, "she'd never agree to it. Not after your mother. Besides, what my dear sister doesn't understand, is that sometimes you need to take a chance. Like I did, with the Rooks. And now with you."

You supposed that made sense.

"Besides," he continued, "it doesn't hurt to have powerful friends close to your nemesis-"

"As I've already mentioned," you injected, stifling a chuckle at how affronted he looked at being so unceremoniously interrupted, "I'm neither powerful nor am I close to Mr. Starrick. He doesn't trust me. Which means, more often than not, he'll ensure he bears witness to every move I make."

You shifted towards him.

"It's not just my business that's on the line here, Mr. Frye. It's my life. If he ever suspects me of consorting with you, I'd lose everything. My agreement is me trusting you to kill him and deliver on your end of the bargain."

At that, his eyes softened, and when he spoke next, sincerity was carefully woven into every word. "You needn't worry, Miss Attaway, you have my word. I will do whatever it takes to rid you of Starrick and his control."

Nodding softly in lieu of thanks, you cleared your throat, embarrassment burning in your chest at having let yourself be so vulnerable (for lack of a better word) with someone.

And a man you barely knew, at that.

"I apologise, you must think me utterly mercurial, and-"

"On the contrary, I think you're rather bricky," he said, and his damned gaze was still so gentle as it rest upon you, his tone somewhat similar to the one often adopted by strangers when they learned of how you came to live with Pearl. The thought of being pitied by him for having gotten into this situation, even though it was mostly his fault, left you feeling angry and humiliated.

You didn't need nor ask for his commiseration.

Choosing not to dignify that with a response (you knew anything you'd say would be in bad form), you immediately carried on like nothing had happened. "Right, I'll need a few weeks or so to get everything up and running again. In the meantime, you encourage any competitors that are not affiliated to Mr. Starrick. With a rival around, I could try and-"

"-blame your lack of profits onto them?" at your affirmation, he let out a low whistle. "Clever. That might just work."

The admiration in his voice didn't go unnoticed. You shrugged, "I know, and I'm counting on it. Of course, if it doesn't alleviate suspicion, we might have to resort to drastic measures, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, this is all we need to focus on."

Your sentence was punctuated by the chiming of Big Ben, indicating that your hour was up. With a "by your leave, Miss Attaway", Mr. Frye leapt into action, getting back onto the bench and driving the carriage to where your actual employee was to meet you. In an attempt to look a bit more inconspicuous, you drew open the curtains. Nothing like the hidden interior of a carriage to get people gossiping.

Dismounting, Mr. Frye glanced around, making sure you hadn't attracted any unwarranted attention, before tipping his cap to you and stalking off. Thankfully, it was crowded enough that no one paid a briefly unattended carriage any mind, and it gave him the opportunity to blend in with the locals, seemingly vanishing from sight.

You watched him go, and thinking your decision over for the rest of your journey, could only hope you'd made the right choice.

Slang used:

Crotchetty - eccentric, unexpected

Bricky - brave, fearless, adroit after the manner of a brick

Other:

Glove etiquette - whenever a gentleman had to shake someone’s hand, he would take off his glove (that he always wore when outside) before doing so. If he had to leave it on, he’d apologise while shaking the other person’s hand. Women, however, had to keep their gloves on at all times when they were out and about, except when at the dinner table during a party, because it was considered bad form to wear gloves while eating (mainly because the gloves were delicate, especially those made of kid, and wearing dirty gloves was “tacky”). However, when giving his hand to a woman whose own hands were gloved, a man wasn’t supposed to take off his. It was necessary to do so if hers were off too, though.

(Tumblr's an ass, so I'll reblog this post in a bit to link the articles I used as a reference because they're much, much better at providing a comprehensive explanation to how glove etiquette worked)

#jacob frye x reader #jacob frye #assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed imagines #assassin's creed syndicate #mine

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connorspiracy · 4 years ago

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Here Comes Santa Claws || Connor & Sasha

TIMING: Just before Christmas PARTIES: @connorspiracy and @sasha-r-blog CONTENT: N/A SUMMARY: Connor has a run-in with The Claw

Connor hadn’t been out of the hospital for long before he was right back out in the fray. Bug bite. Temporarily paralytic. Typical White Crest shit. It wore off within an hour or two and they’d kept him one night for observation, but he’d been back home the next day, and back out filming the next night. All in all, it’d been a fairly uneventful night. Not too common in White Crest, but it happened sometimes. He’d been heading back to his car when he passed the two drunk college bros in santa hats, probably on the way home from a Christmas party or something.

“Heyyy,” one of them slurred. “Are you a film student? Can I be in your movie?”

Apparently, it must have been the best joke ever, because they both started laughing. Connor took a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head.

“Nah, mate. Battery’s dead anyway,” he lied.

“Oh, come on,” the other one said, winking. “Is it, y’know, a dirty movie? We won’t tell anyone.”

Connor was a pretty jovial dude, but some people were really fucking annoying. He sighed. “No, documentary, but I gotta get home anyway. Have a good night, lads.”

He kept walking, but felt a hand grab his shoulder.

“Come on. Don’t be a dick.” One of them grabbed at the camera, snatching it from his hands and starting to record themselves. “Hey, battery isn’t dead, you’re full of shit.”

Sasha’s night hadn’t gone very successfully, which sucked, but wasn’t that surprising. People were out and about, but nothing criminal or suspicious or even vaguely interesting had happened within the last few hours. Sasha has been keeping a lookout of the streets from the roof of a building, but as her eyes grew bleary she thought it would probably be best to just pack it in for the night. She had a project for class she had to work on anyways. Though if she was being honest with herself she was probably just going to make some hot chocolate and go to sleep once she was back.

Climbing down the sides of the building, she ducked into an alley to get changed. She brought a pair of jeans and a sweater, enough to cover the spandex while she tucked the rest of her costume back into her backpack. But before she could even start taking off her mask, she heard some sort of commotion. Well, maybe less of a commotion and more of a disturbance. Shouldering her bag again she listened. Three voices. Two sounded like assholes, to be blunt. Also maybe drunk. And what they were saying didn’t sound like it was going in a good direction for whoever the third person was.

Okay, so maybe tonight wouldn’t be so uneventful after all.

Sasha crept through the other end of the alley, towards the noise. And as she peaked out onto the street she could see the three of them about ten feet away. How hard could it be to take down two drunk frat bros? Maybe they’d even be scared off before they got themselves hurt by the justice of The Claw.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Sasha tried to be menacing, amber eyes flashing as she tried to do a half hunched, crouch thing, something that looked like a tiger about to lunge. It looked cool in her head at least.

“I don’t think that camera belongs to you. How about you hand that back before you regret it.”

“Guess it has a little juice left,” Connor answered, grabbing for the camera. The other men were larger than him. He’d always been on the smaller side, a matter that didn’t especially bother him except when it came to people not believing his I.D. was real when he was trying to get a drink. Now, though, it was annoying to be unable to reach. “Give it back, dude. It’s expensive.”

“Expensive?” One of them mocked. “Aw, the widdle baby needs his expensive camera back? Did mommy and daddy get it for you, Prince William?” The words prompted more laughter from both frat bros and Connor rolled his eyes.

“Very funny. You should be on the improv team. Now if I could just--”

Before the conversation could go any further, he caught sight of the fourth person, a young woman in a domino mask with glowing yellow eyes who stepped out from the alley. One of the men almost dropped the camera in response, causing Connor’s heart to jump into his throat.

“Please, please don’t let ‘em drop it…” he begged of the stranger, and one of them shoved the camera into Connor’s chest so hard it sent him stumbling backwards.

“Whoa, nice costume,” one of the bros said. “Girl, you know it’s not Halloween any more.”

“I’m aware.” Sasha wanted that to sound cool, threatening, unaffected. Too bad she couldn’t keep the offense from her voice. “This isn’t some costume party, so why don’t you get out of here and leave that guy alone.”

She tried her best to stare down the guy who had spoken to her, but curiosity kept making her glance back at the other guy, shorter than the two meatheads and clearly in need of help. From the sounds of it that camera was expensive, good thing she had heard the trouble before these jerks broke it or ran off with it. It was almost more annoying that they seemed to just be random drunk college students. She was expecting to find some hardened criminal with a gun or knife looking to threaten a man for his money, not some dude bro assholes just starting trouble for the sake of it.

So could anyone really blame her if she wanted to show off just a little? Just like, a little warning shot. Just so they knew she meant business and didn’t get any ideas about harassing more people tonight, or commenting on their costume.

With surprising speed Sasha rushed up to the closest dude and reached for his collar. Didn’t matter that he was a good several inches taller than her and bulky, she knew she could lift him if she got a good grip.

Honestly, Connor was just glad someone was helping him out and stopping his camera from being shattered on the frosty pavement. The guy had left it rolling, and Connor saw no need to correct that as he gazed on. He was intrigued to see what might happen. Size wasn’t necessarily an indication of strength or prowess. Rio was pretty much the scrawniest guy in the world, and he had hunter strength, but surely the guys wouldn’t try and fight her, right?

“Oh, piss off,” one of them scoffed, gathering up a snowball to throw at her, only before he could let loose, the stranger cleared the distance between them almost as if by magic, hoisting the man off his feet. The snow crumpled in his hand and fell to the ground, and his friend let out a yelp.

“Yo, what the hell, lady? We were just goofing around. Put him down!”

It wasn’t visible under her toothy face mask, but Sasha grinned from ear to ear as she watched the dude she lifted up stare down at her. Shock, confusion, a bit of fear. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have insulted my costume.

“What the fuck!” The dude was squirming, so probably a good idea actually let go. Soon he’d start punching or kicking to get free and Sasha wasn’t planning on a full on fight unless she needed to. Still holding the one man by his collar she turned towards the other who was sporting a similar look of confusion. Why shouldn’t he be a little more freaked out too?

So Sasha threw the one dude at the other. Okay, well, tried to. Even with super strength, it turns out full on throwing a full grown man isn’t easy. The guy got more roughly pushed backwards than anything, slipping on the slightly icy sidewalk and falling shoulder first into his friend, losing his hat in the process. Maybe not as dramatic as it could have been, but she threw in another flash on amber eyes to make up for that.

The two nearly toppled to the ground together, but managed to right themselves. Pretty impressive, considering they were drunk. After a moment of getting his bearings the dude huffed out; “This lady’s either crazy or on something, let’s go.” Despite this being a really great plan on the dude’s part, the friend that hadn’t gotten picked up stared Sasha down. His eyes were still confused, but the shock was wearing off and Sasha could see his jaw clench. But the other dude tugged his arm to get him moving.

“You’re a fucking weirdo. You’re lucky I don’t punch chicks.” The lingering guy said, before finally following his friend, shouldering past the guy with the camera.

Sasha watched them leave, heart pounding in her chest still from the adrenaline, before turning toward the camera guy. Crap, okay, she needed some cool line now. Like “Have no fear citizen!” but less dorky.

“Are you okay?” was the only thing that came out of her mouth on the spot.

"You're lucky she didn't punch you," Connor scoffed at the departing dudebro, feeling a little braver now that he'd just had his honour defended by White Crest's own Black Panther. He caught his breath, letting the waves of adrenaline calm a little. The fight or flight was gone. Connor wasn't freaked out. Not in the least. The altercation with the frat boys had been less than ideal, but the sheer exhilaration of meeting this young woman had replaced any fear or concern that might have been hanging around.

"Dude, that was... awesome!" Connor was practically vibrating out of his skin. Of all the bizarre things in White Crest he was morbidly excited about, it was rare to actually find one who wasn't out to kill or maim him. "Like, actually awesome. You... uh, you saved my arse." He gave a slight chuckle. He wasn't too proud to admit it. In fact, the idea of being saved by a super cool badass chick was kind of incredible. "What's, um, what's your name? I'm Connor."

Sasha stood up a bit taller at the praise. That had actually gone well! It hadn’t really hit her until the guy with the camera spoke. Sure, it was just two drunk dudes vs. superpowers but still, she had managed to scare them off and save someone. Without thinking she let out a surprised little chuckle and hoped it was muffled under her mask.

“I’m The Claw,” She said, her grin seeping into her voice. “Protector of White Crest. No need to thank me, it is my job to make sure the citizens of town are safe from criminals and people who want to harm others.”

Connor...why did that name sound familiar? As Sasha finished her introduction she remembered the guy she had spoken to online, the one who was into ghosts. Behind her mask her grin faltered. She guessed the town wasn’t big enough to completely avoid it, but she hadn’t expected to save someone she kinda knew.

“Were those people that you know? Do you feel safe heading to wherever you are heading?” She asked, trying to get back into the mindset of The Claw.

“The Claw,” he repeated, unable to break his gaze on her. A glimmer of recognition stirred in his chest, but not for the woman. It was recognition of a different nature. A spirit. Connor kept his eyes on her, trying to see her expression through the mask, as if that would give him any clue whether she was possessed or not. “That’s, um, very noble of you.” She definitely wasn’t acting anything like the spirit inside Nadia, or almost any other possession cases he’d come across, but not all possessions had to be malicious. Their effects harmed the host regardless.

“No, I never saw them before. I think they were heading back from a holiday party or something. I’m just…” He held up his camera. Not that she hadn’t seen it when she’d zoomed in like a Knight In Batman Armour to save his arse. “I was doing some filming, but, um… actually, do you wanna walk back to the car with me? I think it’d be best if we stick together.” He wasn’t scared, not really, but he wanted to keep her close for as long as possible, see if he could garner any more clues. “How long have you been, uh, protecting White Crest?”

Sasha paused for a beat longer than intended before responding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want those people to come back and try to hurt you again. Even if they were just being troublemakers in the moment, it is my duty to make sure you get back safe.”

She had intended to walk him back if he wanted her too and still did. But there was something uncanny about talking to Connor now the adrenaline was gone and she had recognized him. But she let him lead the way, eyes and ears peeled for if danger did show up.

She hadn’t expected the question either. Sure, superheroes get asked “who are you?” from the people they rescue all the time, but Sasha didn’t know what to do with Connor asking for details. She thought about lying for a second, saying something like “The Claw has always guarded this town,” but considering White Crest’s apparent track record with death and danger that lie would probably make her look bad.

“I only started protecting this town recently. I came when I thought it needed me most. And while those men were just drunken jerks, I’m glad I was able to help stop trouble tonight, however small.”

Was she laying it on too thick? She hadn’t exactly prepared a script for this sort of thing. She tried to keep looking straight ahead, as if somehow her nervousness would show through two layers of masks if she looked Connor in the eye.

Connor smiled to himself as he walked. She sounded like she was right out of the pages of one of the cornier Superman comics, but there was also something endearing about it. “If any town needs a bloody superhero, it’s this one,” he snickered. He could feel something spiritual about her, but it didn’t feel malicious. He felt drawn to her, a need to investigate beyond just the mere fact he’d seen her use super-strength.

“So do you have any other powers? Laser vision, telekinesis?” She almost definitely wasn’t going to answer, but hey, it was worth a shot. Connor rarely saw the need to keep his questions to himself. “Oh! Do you have, like, a Batsignal? A way people can call on you when they need you? Maybe a burner phone, although that would be less exciting.”

He was sure he’d caught some of her antics on camera, even though the footage probably wasn’t great thanks to being passed from one person to the other rather than held steadily. He couldn’t wait to look through it when he got back.

Sasha grinned. Superpowers, now that was something she could talk about easily.

“No laser vision, but I’m fully capable of defeating evil.” She brought up her hand, but paused for a moment. No, it was fine, she was still in costume and on duty after all, even if she was now just walking with Connor back to his car. And he didn’t seem to have any inkling of who she was.

In an instant sharp, pale colored claws sprouted from Sasha’s fingers. And sure, maybe being seen as cool by someone was going to her head a bit. But who could blame her? She let the quick flicker of amber that helped her see in the dark glow steady from her eyes, causing light to shine from behind her domino mask. The Claw probably looked awesome. Or at least Sasha hoped. When she had done it in the mirror it looked cool to her.

“No signal, just my eyes and ears to keep a lookout.” But maybe that wasn’t too bad of an idea. At least the burner phone idea seemed pretty reasonable, but it might ruin the mystique a bit. “I’ll have to look into ways to let people get in contact with me.”

“Well, love, you’ll probably find a lot of evil here,” Connor said simply, giving a laid back little chuckle. He’d heard horrific tales about some of the horrors White Crest held, and he’d seen many of them too. “Just be careful, yeah? Not all of ‘em can be defeated by super strength.” As impressive as it might have been.

He turned his gaze towards her, watching her hand as she brought forth a set of sharp claws. “Whoa!” Christ, he wished he still had his camera rolling. He should’ve worn that GoPro attachment Jasmine had got him, but foolishly, he’d put it in his backpack, thinking his filming was done for the night. Her eyes glowed like jewels in the darkness. “That’s amazing,” he said, in awe. He made a mental note to look through some of Rio’s books later to see if he could find anything about animal-like spirits giving people powers.

“Uh, this is me,” he said as they approached his black Jeep Renegade. “Thanks for the save. Hope you can use those powers of yours to find me again.”

“Thank you for the concern, I will keep that in mind.” Sasha retracted her claws and let the glow fade from her eye. Part of her wanted to argue, say confidently that nothing could really go up against her strength, agility, and claws. But she wasn’t that cocky, and there was something about the way everyone kept talking about White Crest that was starting to put her on edge. Yeah, the town felt weird, and the death rates didn’t lie, but it felt like everyone talked like they were dancing around something, as if telling a joke she wasn’t privy to, that she could never hope to get. She didn’t know how to feel about the chuckle as Connor spoke. What wasn’t she getting?

Maybe that is just what it was like, being in a new town. She’d have to make an effort to look around more, maybe even talk to people, despite how hard that felt without her mask on. It was so much easier to jump from building to building under the cover of night or talk to Connor when she was hidden behind cool powers and a costume. It made her feel powerful, cool, “amazing” as Connor just said. People didn’t say that about Sasha, but they did about The Claw.

“Hopefully you won’t need any more protection, but if you ever run into trouble know that The Claw will be here to help.” She nodded once, more to herself than Connor. She would keep an eye out for him while doing future patrols, but maybe he was right, a way for people to contact her would be helpful.

“Keep safe.” She said, and with that she darted toward a nearby alley, out of view. But she would climb up another fire escape and spend another hour with her eyes peeled, even as Connor’s Jeep disappeared into the distance. She had helped someone after all, and the pride did a good job pushing away her weariness.

#paras #with: sasha

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theres-someone-to-write-about-it · 4 years ago

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Banshee friend helps Bella through dark days

Edward leaving crushed her, mind body and soul. When Sam pulled her out of the woods muttering and crying that he was gone. I almost went to kill him myself. I didn’t care where he was, he was an absolute asshole for doing this to her.

I couldn’t sleep those first few weeks because I couldn’t feel that she was alive.

The first three months were agony to watch her suffer. If I could have carried her through it, telling her it was going to be okay, I would have. Her night terrors and screams hurt my throat even though I know she couldn’t feel the pain.

Living next door to her was a constant battle between wanting to sneak into her room and knowing what I’d find wasn’t her. Wasn’t Bella. She was a shell, a hallowed frame with nothing inside.

I came over and brought food to Charlie under the pretense of a good neighbor. He would barley talk and I knew better than to ask.

When a flickering ember of her life finally came back, I wanted to run to her. To hug and hold her, so happy to know she was starting to be alright. But there was still so much more she needed to heal.

I stayed with her as often as I could. Even when she didn’t acknowledge I was there. I’d sit at the lunch table with her, no need for conversation. I saw she was only responding to direct questions. Not healed enough yet to be human.

Her waking up was a blessing and a curse. There was more pain, the dryness of her faint embers igniting was a hopeful sign but hard to breathe through.

I followed her and Angela to the movies. I should have just gone to her, tagged along to the trip like a normal person. But silent curiosity got the better of me. I imagined it was easier for her to believe I was just one of her normal human friends. Rather than someone who could clearly see how exactly she was hurting and what she was feeling.

Her hallucinations weren’t necessarily all in her head. They were more like psychic echos, pieces of the real Edward peaking through her shield while also being encased in them. I could see them to an extent and feel what they did to her. I never dreamed she’d use them as a lifeline and devote herself to extreme sports to witness them.

Stubborn and hurt as she was, I knew she would’ve found any reason to see her visions again. I suggested some fun times. My motorcycle wasn’t necessarily top notch in the speed department but a ride on the back got her high enough the first few times.

I taught her how to ride it next and that lasted a while before the feeling wore off again. Eventually, we were able to just sit and talk like normal people. I remember the first time I heard her laugh again so clearly, I’ll never forget it.

We were sitting on my living room floor messing with a map and haphazardly talking about the best roads to ride on the bike with. Her eyes were still only a light purple underneath as opposed to the bruise colored they were just weeks ago. I was doing most of the talking, like normal.

“This road is really good if you want to go fast, like 100 miles an hour fast. There are no cliffside or blind curves and surprisingly no cops,” I pointed to another winding highway, “This one will definitely get your thrills in, but you can’t go over 70 without the goal of jumping a cliff. Screaming weeeeee all the way down.”

I don’t know exactly what made her laugh, but my heart stopped when I heard it. It wasn’t her full laugh, but it was more than I’d heard in months. By the look on her face, it was more than she’d heard from herself too. If I didn’t have such good emotional control, bordering on ridiculous control, I would’ve cried right there in front of her.

A short pause was all I afforded myself, acting like it wasn’t such a huge thing. I made a comment about how I liked her laugh offhand. Then we, mostly me, went back to talking.

Talking about Edward or the Cullens made her feel like falling apart all over again. But I found subtle ways to try and heal her mind and heart.

When Laurent came down for the visit that almost killed her, I had to catch myself from running to help. Even from miles away, I could feel her fear and despair of being in that clearing.

There wouldn’t have been anything I could have done to save her. I’m still essentially a human with some fae gifts. No super strength or ability to take down a vampire. But damn I would have tried had the wolves not showed up.

It was some short time after that I let it slip about my not-so-human origins. Jacob Black wanted back in her life after he’d changed and it was important she knew exactly what type of world she lived in, surrounded by mythical creatures and at least one of them who loved her. Obviously I couldn’t tell her that part. I never even brought it up.

We were pacing the forest since it was hard for her to be still nowadays. As much as I tried to veer away from the path she walked that day with Edward, it was like her body had a mind of its own. I rambled on about the trees before coming upon this one particular one who was dying. I’d been searching for a segway the entire day.

I pressed my hand into the trunk that still looked alive, “This tree will be dead by next year.”

Not one to perk up at some of the weird things that come out of my mouth, Bella just nods and mutters an agreement. I thought for a moment that I’ll literally have to spell it out for her when I see a giant wolf track right next to me. Wonderful. “Wow, that’s a big paw print. What kind of wolves are they breeding up here?”

At that, her head snapped up finally. She came over to where I was and saw it instantly in the wet earth, “it’s probably a bear or something. Grizzlies can get pretty big.”

“Or you have a particular loyal pack protecting you.” We were right beyond her yard after all. She attempted to stammer away and excuse before I cut in again, not being able to take it anymore. “I know werewolves are a thing and so are vampires.”

I hadn’t realized I turned away from her when I said it until I was facing the dying tree again. I was afraid of her reaction if she’d think I’d betrayed her after all this time. “What are you talking about?” I sighed, hanging my head with closed eyes.

“Those aren’t the only types of legends that exist in the real world. There are other creatures and types of people. It just so happens Forks is a good a place as any for them... us... to settle down.”

“Us?” I couldn’t even look. Her emotions were going haywire trying to figure it out, process the words I was saying in a way that made sense. Probably wondering if I was a vamp sent to kill her, that particular fear cut deep.

“I’m not dangerous or hurt people. I don’t turn into an animal or anything. I’m a banshee and we see and feel death. I can see and feel the emotions of people around me and feel when someone is going to die.”

The silence was gut wrenching but I knew she had to process and it would take time. “How?” I think she asked it on a whim, the first thing that popped in her head.

“My ancestors were fae. Like fairies only a lot weirder. Eventually they came to be with humans and through a few centuries of evolution, here I am. Seeing death everywhere I go.”

“Huh.” I couldn’t tell if that was an intrigued or scared response so I peeked over to see her last in thought. Better than running for the hills I guess. “I can’t have normal human friends to save my life.”

After a moment shocked me back, we both laughed and I can tell you, I’ve never felt more free. I couldn’t tell her everything like the spirits in town or the lost souls or some of the more unsavory things. But whenever a newly dead soul came to be moved on, I told her the process as I did it. Opening the veil and leading them to the other side.

She was interested what lied beyond the veil and I told her what I’ve seen of other people’s afterlives how there are infinite possibilities depending on what you believe. I could’ve sworn she was about to say that she didn’t believe in anything after death but bit her tongue. Eventually it became easier to tell what she was thinking based on her emotions, or when I was feeling lazy, almost everything was written in her face.

After Jake wormed his way into letting her in on the secret, he became more of a permanent fixture in her life. Not that he was a bad person, he was far more loyal and slightly more understanding than the boy who said he loved her previously. But still young and volatile and unpredictable.

Meeting Jake for the first time was not what I expected or intended for that matter. Bella got the ridiculous idea of cliff diving and had the stubbornness to go alone, picking the absolute worst timing.

I was in the reservation before I knew what was happening to me, drawn there by imminent death. My soul worked on autopilot, moving my body and I guess making sure I got there in one piece even though I still can’t remember a single road sign or turn in this place I’d never been.

I arrived just after they said the prognosis wasn’t good. Regardless of how much I knew it wasn’t the cause, I felt guilty for being there. Like Harry’s death would be my fault because I could feel it before it happened. I kept my camouflage well, that way no one disturbed me or even noticed I was there when I snuck into his room.

The light was already fading from his body as his soul was ready to leave. I must have been there only in spirit because even the medical staff didn’t shoo me out of the room when he coded the first time. They paid me no mind as I held his hand. I told him everything was going to be alright, that he was safe now.

He was stubborn and wouldn’t go until he had everyone around him. His whole family, most of his friends, and others gathered around to wish him goodbye. The second time I took his hand, his soul went with me. I told him he was going somewhere wonderful and led him towards the light. It took me a while after he was gone to remember where my body was. Outside in the parking lot.

It took me what felt like hours to control the sobs grasping from my throat and even longer to realize what I felt was drowning. Bella drowning after cliff diving right before a storm. I’ll owe Sam and Jake eons for saving her even though I knew they didn’t do it for me.

As I drove to her house, I felt for her energy to know she was alright. Knowing she was with Jake made me feel marginally better. At least his werewolves strength could protect her if needed. She already felt sick with worry and guilt so no need for me to give her anymore.

We pulled up at the house at the same time. The same moment we recognized the car. I knew the presence of a Cullen and immediately went to her side of the car, holding the door before Jake could think to drive away without dragging me along the gravel

He was tense and angry and, above all, concerned. “It’s Alice.” Was all I had to say before Bella was practically running to the door, leaving Jake and I to meet officially. We’d heard enough about each other. Me from Bella and him from what seemed a mixture of places.

“You were at the hospital with Harry.” I nodded. “You didn’t kill him did you?” I shook my head, the vibrating in his shoulder decreased ever so slightly, the tension in his knuckles never ebbing. He kept watching the door, weighing his options. If it was worth breaking the treaty. For her. I would’ve.

I put my hand on his arm, almost pulling back from the heat. I knew to expect it but somehow it still surprised me. “I can go inside and make sure she’s alright and find out what Alice wants or stay out here and tell you what she feels.”

He blinked a couple times, not exactly sure what I meant. “I’m a Banshee. Which is how I know you need to be assured she’s alright, ideally in a way that doesn’t involve you hulking out. So I can either stay here with you and tell you that she’s feeling incredibly relieved and happy to see Alice or go inside and get the full story then report back out here. Your choice.”

“I think I’ll go look for myself thanks.” Typical dude bro. I rolled my eyes and easily kept pace with him even when clearly he tried to beat me to the door.

Alices energy was always different than the others and I never could tell if she had a blind spot for me too with her visions or if I just seemed another insignificant human to her.

When I walked through the door, with Jake shortly behind, Alices eyes went cold and threatening. Bella got in between us and assured Alice we were safe. Introductions were made and things were civil for Alice and I. Alice and Jake were like hot oil and water, sputtering and tense.

Bella explained the wolves and my being a banshee really quickly, trying to get it over with so she could hear about why Alice was actually there. Upon hearing what I was, Alice looked at me a bit harder, trying to get a read on me and my future. She clicked her tongue in some sort of verdict and explained about seeing Bella jump and the stupidity.

Things happened pretty quickly after that. Alice got the call from Rosalie and how Edward knew something happened to Bella. I tried to stop Jake from answering the phone but the moron did it anyway. The tension in his posture and tone told me all I needed to know as I ripped the phone from his hand. He barley had time to say ‘funeral’ before I said his name.

“She’s okay. She’s alive. Bella is safe. Reasonably.” I couldn’t hear breathing or feel anything but I willed him to hear me. “Harry died. Bella is okay.” The line went dead.

I could fear Bella breaking all over again and I didn’t hold myself back from holding her as she almost fell to the ground.

At least he knew she wasn’t dead. Gods know what he would do if he thought so. I prayed with everything in and around me that he could know I was telling the truth.

I left her with Alice for the night, pulling Jake behind me practically by the scruff. They needed time alone. She explained Victoria and the wolves protecting her. I didn’t pay attention to if she bothered explaining me. I was afraid of what she’d say.

One thing we all did learn from Alice was that they were planning on coming back. All of them. I wish I’d burned their house down.

Edwards return felt more dramatic than it was. And all the drama was second hand to me. All I focused on was how to help Bella. How to help her see this wasn’t healthy. She was stubborn and independent and amazing. She deserved so much more.

I arrived at their house around ten minutes before he arrived. The Cullens were surprised, especially Alice. It was a first for her. I guess she couldn’t see me after all. Good to know.

I waited outside until I was invited in, civilized and cordial. They all gathered in the living room, in the middle of dusting off the home they’d emptied out of. “I want to talk about you all returning to Bella’s life.”

Carlisle nodded, speaking up for his family. “It is only Bella’s decision whether she accepts us back.”

“I’m aware. Personally, I have no problem with any of you. I’m not sure what you’ve ever heard about Banshees but I’m not here as a representative of my kind. I’m here as someone who... loves Bella very much. All I ask is an audience with Edward before he sees her. To give him some information and ask questions about his return.”

They let me sit on the couch for what felt like years before he walked in the door. He was ragged and haggard. I tried not to have some sick satisfaction with that. But it was a fraction of what Bella suffered.

“She’ll kill me when she finds out I’m here.” Edward nodded, confused and concerned that he can’t read my mind. “I’m a Banshee. We have some shielding ability to keep our thoughts private. Can we talk?”

He only nodded again. “Good. Do you think you could handle some pain right now? A glimpse into the last six months. What happened after you left?”

His voice was so strained and ragged, “I deserve it.”

“I don’t necessarily disagree but right now I don’t think it’s the best time...” I played everything over in my head of what I think would happen. His only relief would be Bella and her him. It was inevitable they’d be back together and she’ll want to forget any of this ever happened while he went on always feeling guilty.

“You left her to keep her safe. Believing a life without you would be best. You were wrong.”

#twilight #banshee in forks #headcanon #folks #bella swan #werewolves #vampires #edward cullen #cullens #orginal story

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bloodyimmortal · 4 years ago

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・♔ * { imported thread // to be continued with @villainyandvillainousvixens }

A quick glance at the clock told it was almost that time again. Time for what exactly, Adam still was attempting to figure out. First, the echo of high heels would fill the hallway, then a moment later, striking blue eyes would peek through the blinds. The first couple of days, he thought he was just being paranoid. But then he set an alarm to wait and watch. Today would be the fifth day of this little game and Adam’s curiosity was making him impatient. Sure, there was the occasional female employees peeking in every now and then, but this was on a schedule.

Adam would wager this was someone new. Or at least, someone new to this level of the facility, since they would have had to work their way up the ladder to get access. And this someone had to have heard the rumors about him since they never stopped at any other cell. Was this someone intrigued...? Possibly even infatuated with him? How could someone who’d attempted such horrible deeds be this handsome, am I right? Yes, he supposed that would make anyone curious. And so, to lure them closer, today he would be waiting with a surprise when they peeked through the blinds. They would be witness to a little show.

So Adam sat there, laid back against the headboard of his bed, shirt off, and a devilish grin on his lips. Luckily his regeneration had kept his body decently toned or he wouldn’t have considered this plan of action. As he heard the clicking of heels getting closer, he also decided to allow his pants to hang down from his waist, showing off the little V dip there that women seemed to adore so much. And if that wasn’t enough, the beginning of his blond treasure trail also made an appearance. Normally he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to meet a woman, but being in a cell for about thirty years, one got bored. Finally, once their blue eyes met, Adam gave her a playful wink and motioned for her to come inside. The immortal had no idea what he was soon in for.

It wasn’t that she needed to go down to his level but after hearing so much, she needed to know. One time, that’s all Elle was going to do until she peaked in and something about him pulled her in. When their eyes connected for the first time, for just a moment she thought she could feel something. Dropping the shade she told herself that coming back was out of the question.

That night, while she slept his face continued to haunt her, his lips, his eyes, the darkness inside of them that seemed to burn into her soul. Waking up, her heart raced and she knew that she needed to see him again. Laying back down in her bed, she couldn’t help but continue to see his blue eyes as she fell into a deep sleep.

What had it been two, maybe three days that she’d been watching him? It wasn’t that she needed to check on him or that she was fascinated, it was this pull towards him that she couldn’t explain. Running her fingers down the wall, Elle stopped in the same place that she always had, her fingers lifting the blind but something was different. There he laid, and when he winked at her, she dropped the blind. It wasn’t that she couldn’t get into his cell, it would open, her powers would make sure of that but what would she say. Taking a deep breath, how could she resist the challenge.

She reached out, touching the lock, blue sparks showing on both sides before it clicked open. Elle stepped inside, leaning against the white wall, arms crossed. Sure part of her wanted to smile at him, move closer but this wasn’t her first rodeo with others who were dangerous. Her blue eyes looking over him before rolling just slightly and looking over her should to the door behind her. “I see that they’ve forgotten to give you a shirt. That’s not my job but– I’m sure I can find something so you don’t catch cold.”

Her words were playful and when she’d finished a sly grin rose out of the corner of her mouth. Knowing she should stay by the door, Elle stepped forward a bit closer to the strange. “You know, for the stories, you really don’t look that tough.”

The sound of the lock being picked in a rather uncommon way pulled a smug grin from Adam as he knew whoever it was couldn’t have resisted his little show. Once the door was fully open and the mystery woman revealed, brows raised in both surprise and interest. All these years in this cell and never had he noticed anyone under thirty on this floor of the facility. Interesting.

At her words, Adam turned to sit sideways on the bed, facing her to give his full attention. “Yes, I’m more than confident you have the ability to warm me up in the most satisfactory manner possible, love.” It was full on flirting but the immortal hadn’t had this little luxury in so long that he couldn’t help himself. She was beautiful... and obviously knew not to walk too far into the lion’s den. No matter, he could smell her perfume from there, although faintly.

“Ah, so it was the rumors that led you to me.” Now he stood to take a step or two, hoping to at least get a little bit closer, even if it was just to admire her and catch whiffs of her scent. Hands were held up to show he was posing no threat. “Yes, I’m sorry to disappoint. Perhaps all those rumors are not true? Perhaps I’m just their guinea pig... Perhaps you’re the angel sent to be my new caretaker?” At this, Adam’s expression was giving an Oscar worthy performance as big blue hues attempted to tug at her heartstrings. Or at least, he could find out what kind of person she was by the way she reacted and then go from there.

There was this fight or flight feeling that went through her even if he’d been so flattering to her. Her head tilted to the side as her hands moved down to her side with him stepping forward, light blue sparks released involuntarily before she took her own step forward, not letting him thinks he was backing down. “Honey you have no idea how much I could warm you up.” One more step towards the monster in front of her, more sparks coming from her fingers.

She would have thrown a bolt at him but the moment that he could be like her, held and tortured made the electricity subside and now she focused on his face, such a lovely face he had. With his hands raised, she reached out with one finger, almost touching his palm. A blue arch passed between her finger and his own and she waited for him to pull back. The moment he didn’t her eyes moved from his hand back to the man’s face. “I think you have me mistaken, Mr. Monroe. I’m no one’s caretaker.”

Letting her hand fall from his, she started to take a step back from him and paused, the memory of Sylar coming back to her. Could this be the same thing, had she learned nothing from the broken heart she felt with him. He interested her and that wasn’t something that happened often but she needed to keep him at a distance. Why had she not moved, not pulled away from being in his space. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she took the final step to close the gap between them, her eyes still focused on his face. “I could be other things for you though. I’m not the best at caring for things. You need to feel something for that to work.”

Was it a lie? No. Elle hadn’t felt anything in so long that she really believed that there wasn’t a soul on Earth that could bring that back to her. “I don’t have much to do lately though, so if you’re as entertaining as I think you could be, I’m sure I could continue to come see you.”

“Mmm, feisty,” he said, tone soft and velvety with approval at her little display of power. Although impressive, whatever she could possibly do to him was a walk in the park compared to what The Company had already subjugated him to. So needless to say, her light show had a better chance of turning him on than frightening him. Perhaps she’d figured that out when not a flinch was given as she shocked his palm.

Blue hues watched her, waiting for her next move. Not simply watched, but also analyzed the little blonde’s body language. As she stepped even closer, Adam wasn’t about to celebrate a victory yet as this could very well have been a trick. Other things for him? Brows gave a subtle jump at this and the rest of her phrasing. Scheming took a back seat for the moment as a hand raised to gently cup her cheek, testing her reaction, seeing if she’d truly meant what she’d just stated.

Adam opened his mouth to use his silver tongue but instead found he couldn’t let her words about needing to feel something fade without commenting. “What in the bloody hell have they done to you, love?” Softly, thumb stroked her cheek in a sincere, caring manner. Since electricity manipulation was her power, she probably didn’t have regeneration. She would have had to went through all those grueling tests without that safety net. The thought added more fuel to the fire onto the grudge he’d already held for The Company.

As for her continuing to visit him, Adam answered honestly, “Yes, I do believe I’d like that. I enjoy your company already.” There was a vibe about her. It wasn’t just her beauty, no. There was more there, under the surface. This mystery, he allowed himself to be a sucker for it, for the moment at least.

Her eyes were still connected to his as she felt his fingers on her cheek. She wanted to lean into it, to feel the affection she’d wanted. Her eyes closed for a moment but she didn’t move. After a few moments that felt like an eternity, he spoke. She’d heard of the things done to him and if anyone could understand what it felt like to trust others and then turn that love around and use it against them, it was Adam.

At his question, her eyes fluttered open, her teeth biting down on her lower lip. Do I tell him of the shock, the torture— constantly pushing her almost to the point of death but never letting her go. Her eyes now looking down but she didn’t move, didn’t pull away. “I needed to be trained so I could go into the field.” She looked up at him, wanting to pull herself away from him but just couldn’t get past his eyes looking down at her and she finally felt his thumb run over her cheek.

Elle couldn’t push this gesture away and she found herself leaning into his touch, her hand moving up to cover his. There was a screaming voice in her head, the one that protected her. It was screaming for her to pull away. In an instant she came back from the tender moment between them and felt reality crash down on her. Her hand dropped and she pulled away. She crossed her arms over her chest and scoffed. “ I don’t know, I’ll see if I can find some time to come back.”

The attitude was fake and although she was quite convincing when she wanted to be, part of Elle knew that he wouldn’t believe her. They’d had some kind of moment and there was very little that would keep her from him. Her head tilted to the side for a moment before shrugging her shoulders at him. Elle hadn’t paid attention before speaking and although she’d stepped away from their close encounter, she was still too close to be quite so cavalier with someone so dangerous.

“I’m not so sure why everyone’s so afraid of you. I get that your handsome and maybe others fall for that charming accent but I’m smarter than that.”

Simply observing her reactions told him much. Adam could have been wrong, but based on his own experiences, they’d done terrible things to both of them. And if he was remembering correctly, he had probably seen her in the halls as each one was being escorted to another test. She was much younger then and just the thought of such experiments being conducted on the small child in his memories caused internal seething. The immortal had to push back those feelings for the moment though, as his actions now would be for both of them. When he escaped, he would take her with him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said as she leaned in, seemingly accepting the olive branch he’d offered. As she looked up at him, Adam gave an actual, sincere expression of pity. Before he could do anything else to comfort her, she’d shifted gears on him, pulling away, demeanor cold. Adam knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but he was up for whatever challenge she threw his way as she was probably their only hope of getting out of there.

Hand dropped to his side as she stood back before reaching to put on a shirt. “True. I would never doubt your intelligence -- your beautiful blue eyes brim with it, love. But perhaps, in this instance, it is wise for you to trust instead of rebel? Think about it -- I only have my regeneration to defend myself. I am no more a threat than any other regular human out there. They keep me only for tests... And these rumors? How else to get everyone to go along with such barbaric treatment?” An audible sigh was given. “I simply want my freedom.” Eyes locked to hers. “As you do.”

She stood in place listening to his words and a sigh escaped her lips. “They do like to make others out to be more dangerous than they really are. We aren’t all like Sylar.” Running her tongue over her lower lip, she turned back towards him, her eyes almost the same color as her fingers were. “Trust isn’t something I usually give away. The last time I trusted someone— I ended up here.”

Elle couldn’t help but scoff wondering what it was that he wanted. No one had ever shown interest in her without a motive for doing so. Reaching up, she began to chew on the end of her finger but didn’t move away from him. “so if the rumors aren’t true, then what’s such a big deal about you? They only put the worst of the worst down here. The ones that are fractured.” Part of Elle knew that with the way she was going, it wasn’t long till she’d be added to the numbers down here.

Her thoughts returned to what he said about her. “I don’t need my freedom anymore. I am part of the teams that get to go out— but—-” The thought of what she could do if she was free of the rules, free of Noah for the first time in her life. She took a deep breath before stepping back closer to Adam. “You’re just talking to me so I can set you free, aren’t you?”

Poker face remained as she seemed to go along with his story. Which, actually made a ton of sense. How convenient, that. “Understandable. I, too, know how it feels to be betrayed in the worst possible way. So, if it’s any consolation, I would never put you through that. I don’t know you, but it appears you’ve been tortured as much, if not more, than me. You deserve some peace as much as I do.”

As for explaining the rumors, Adam shrugged. “If you had conducted nasty experiments on someone who knew several languages, still had many outside contacts, knew how to use anything he got his hands on as a lethal weapon, and was handsome to boot, wouldn’t you lock them up in the worst way possible never to be heard from again?” And although he wanted to address the fractured part, he’d left that alone for now. Perhaps he really was fractured? It wasn’t his fault.

Adam crossed his arms and tilted his head in disappointment as she attempted to explain why she didn’t need her freedom any longer. They’d had her brainwashed good. Just as he was about to counter her argument, she asked a question that pulled a sly grin from him. “If you think that’s the only reason I’m talking to a beautiful woman in my room after thirty years with nothing but my hand to satisfy me, you should think again, love. You are by far the tastiest steak this tiger as seen in a long time.” Tone turned serious as did expression. “No worries, I am a gentleman. Simply speaking with you is a treat. Sincerely, you have made my year already.”

There was something sincere about his words and she couldn’t help but smile at him. How did this happen? It was supposed to be a quick in and out to see what he was like. Now she was standing her while he spoke of things she believed no one else would understand. She brought her attention back to their conversation when he started talking about himself. Elle nodded at his question and then laughed. “No I’d probably find him interesting and would want to let him out and see what kinda trouble he would cause.”

There was a mischievous grin now plastered over her delicate face. The mood seeming to lighten and this made her feel a bit better. She feared feelings and connections with people, although she seemed to always be looking for them. And if she thought it had gotten too serious, his next comment brought a flush to her cheeks. “A tasty steak, huh?” She knew that she needed to say something more and biting down on her lower lip, after he’d explained what a gentleman he was, she stepped into his space once more. Reaching up, her finger traced over his lower lip, the lightest amount of shock carried through it.

Her eyes focused on his and she sighed. “Who said you get to be the tiger in that analogy? Besides, what would make you think you’re my type anyway?” She could feel herself wanting to backdown but gathering all her courage she stood fast, eyes still focused on him. “I can have whoever I want— so tell me what you’ve got that I’d want? You’re locked up in a cell.”

Her replies pleased him, as did the blush he’d managed to pull from her. She was magnificent and adorable at the same time and when she moved closer, Adam couldn’t help filling his senses with her perfume yet again. How he'd missed having a beautiful woman nearby. “The finest, most savory steak I’ve ever witnessed in my life,” he added at her question as he was growing fonder of her by the moment. Whether that was because of the loneliness, his scheming, or genuine want to be close to another human being again, making a connection, or a combination of all three, he wasn’t sure yet. The only thing he was certain of was that he wanted out of there, with her by his side.

The touch and subsequent spark to his lip pulled a grin from him as he was tempted to tease her finger with his tongue, but resisted, not wanting to appear too forward just yet. Her next words though, Adam crossed his arms at. She was challenging him? Standing up to him to see what he’d do? First brows raised before furrowing as she spoke. Cute. Very cute. "I would not mind being your steak, I do love a dominant woman who can handle me. If you think you’re up to the task? As for being your type, I am simply every woman’s type -- charming, handsome, intelligent, English, a gentleman, excellent stamina, well endowed, several bank accounts waiting for me on the outside... I could go on, but I think you get the picture.”

What would she want that he had? Seeing as he’d just given her a list, the only other thing left to do was show her. A strong arm snaked around her waist to pull her petite little body against his as more than eager lips pressed to hers. Oh they were so soft. To be honest, he’d wanted to kiss her ever since she opened that sassy little mouth of hers. The other hand moved to cradle her head, fingers gripping her golden hair lightly as he did, holding her in place unless she resisted. If she refused, he would let her go, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t. The rush of the whole situation had his pulse racing, taking all his willpower to keep from deepening the kiss and possibly ripping her clothes off right then and there.

Her eyes widened at his comment, wondering if he’d really be alright with not being in charge. There was a natural predatory feeling around him that if he wanted something, he would get it. Swallowing hard and hoping that he wouldn’t notice, she didn’t back down or flnch at his comment. She wasn’t going to be his prey, no matter how terrified she felt at the moment. Wasn’t this what she’d been working for, so that when someone intimidated her, it wouldn’t effect her.

God why did he have to sound so sexy? Why were his eyes just so beautiful.

Then just as she was about to say something, he told her why she’d be attracted to him. Her brow lifted as she listened to a man who was so confident and in that moment, she’d decided he was what she wanted. Her mind raced of things they could do together as her eyes focused on his soft lips trying to imagine what they would feel like on hers but she snapped out of it and grinned.

“I don’t desire what other women want, Mr. Monroe. I am quite unique in I just want someone that can keep me from being bored. Although the English accent is nice.” She scoffed, “as for well endowed, I’ve found men that brag about it usually aren’t what they let people believe. Honey, you’ll have to do better than that.”

Elle was watching him, searching for something to dislike about him when she felt his arm wrap around her. Her hands immediately went to his shoulder to balance her body against his and their lips connected. In truth, she hadn’t kissed many men and getting this close to someone was something she hated doing. Sure she wanted attention, wanted people to desire her but to actually go through with it, well, it was overwhelming pleasant.

As his hand moved to her head and his fingers were tangled in her hair, she in turn reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, closing any space that remained between their bodies. God, he was hot and although this wasn’t ideal, it was what she wanted. As he didn’t break away from her, she parted her lips letting him deepen the kiss between them. And she could feel a surge of energy building between them. Part of her wanted to calm down but the other side, she wanted to see what he could handle of her. Reaching up, her fingers ran over the nap of his neck, small sparks flying between them.

Pushing away from his kiss, her breath hitched and a slight whine escaped. When she opened her eyes, they were the color of the sparks that emitted from her hands. Still breathless, her eyes connected with his. “I should go. I don’t want to, but I should go before we do something we might regret.”

Something stuck out in her words that Adam could relate to -- wanting someone who could keep him from getting bored. If anyone could do such a thing, he would wager to guess this little firecracker in front of him could. Perhaps that was why they kept her in this huge cage of a building with only the illusion of freedom when she went out? She would cause too much trouble otherwise? That is something he would love to find out in time.

But at the moment, as the kiss deepened, Adam found his pulse racing in a way it hadn’t done in years, probably decades. Although technically he was around four hundred years old, the regeneration kept everything about his body working as though he was twenty six or so. And so, he reacted as such, no matter what his mind might have had to say about it. The shock at his neck only urged him on as a hand snaked lower to grip her ass in response, ensuring her warm body was flush against his as could be.

As their lips parted, Adam attempted to hide how much one little kiss had turned him on. The isolation combined with how alluring she was did quite a number on him. That soft whine she made did not escape him either, only adding to how much he wanted to continue, possibly with backing her up against the wall... No, no, it was time to concentrate. As she spoke, he swallowed and gave a slight nod of understanding. “I do not think there’s anything I could do with you that I would regret. But yes, I understand completely. You must do what you must do.”

Hands moved to her waist before taking her hands into his. “Perhaps, you can visit again tomorrow... and before you arrive, your clearance should get you into the security room. When the guard isn’t looking, you could run the tape of my cell back an hour or so. That way, if we did want to partake in activities we’d regret, we could do so in private.” A hand moved to brush strands of her hair behind her ear in a casual motion. “I personally do not mind putting on a show, but I figured you might.” At that, he leaned in to place a kiss to her forehead, an innocent gesture in contrast to his words.

#villainyandvillainousvixens #・♔ * { instant spark }#・♔ * { imported thread }

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 5 years ago

Text

You Can Call Me

*gif is not mine*

Saturday night.

Finally the night you have a break from your residency as a cardiovascular surgeon. All you want is a fucking break, maybe have some fun a little, and it's finally here. You wear your best strapless little black dress that has a small v, showing off enough cleavage with some strappy red heels, ones that are 3 1/2 inches because you've been on your feet for 20 plus hours. Sure, it might be a little risky to wear this knowing that literally anyone from the workplace can spot you, but you figured that you'll keep yourself on the down low.

Once fixing your dress, hair, and makeup, you head out the door and into your car. No intentions on being drunk because well, first, you're driving and second, you're going to the club alone. You didn't need friends to have fun. You actually enjoyed being alone and hanging out with yourself.

Once you park, you head in with no worries. You quickly walk past people who are grinding against each other, making out, and literally about to fuck each other. You head straight to the bar ordering your favorite daiquiri.

Meanwhile, One Direction is on the second floor in the VIP lounge. Everyone is having a good time except Harry. All he wanted to do was put on a rom com and sleep in the comfort of his home, but the three boys dragged him out to drink and maybe have a fun time with a girl.

♫saw your body language and I know how you're feeling. ♫

And while the boys are chatting it up with the girls that are next to them, Harry immediately notices a very beautiful woman, trying to make her way to the bar. her outfit and makeup are simple and he's very intrigued. He watches as she talks to the bartender for her drink and continues watching her as she waits. he's completely taken away with your beauty. The way your hips swayed as you walked; all he wanted to do was squeeze the shit out of them. The way you're observing people with those eyes he would love to look down at while you're going down on him. he's very much intrigued and would love to get to know you. He thought you were in need of a good night.

♫and you look like the kind of girl who's tired of speaking, standing with somebody but he doesn't know what you like. ♫

As you wait for your drink, a guy with black hair and brown eyes start speaking to you. You're getting a tad bit bored with the conversation because all he's talking about is himself. He excuses himself for a moment and all you're thinking about is relief because he left.

Harry stares at the two making conversation and knows she's not interested in it or him. He makes his way down the stairs in hopes for something out of his actions.

♫tonight is on your lips and I feel like I'm locked in. ♫

The bartender sets the glass down, and you pick it up slowly taking a sip from the pick-me-up. You gulp as you run your tongue across your lips, feeling the delicious drink with every being of your tastebuds. Harry is sold as he licks his lips. He's watching you drinking with the intentions of not being so seductive. harry makes his way towards the seat next to you. You feel a presence and turn to see who it is. Harry Styles. Sure, you've been a fan for a while. Although, you don't have time to keep up with his life because of work, but his existence and music has helped you so much. You almost spill your drink onto the countertop because of your inner fan girl.

He smirks as you look at him, "Hey there."

You're still in shock, trying to fumble with your words, "H-Hi."

"Harry." he puts his hand out and you shake it as you give him your name.

It seemed like you two were talking forever, simply getting to know each other. You both talked about anything and everything with one another. Both of you kept ordering more drinks mindlessly. So much for driving. You both talked jobs, obviously not his, hobbies, favorite things, dislikes, simply everything.

♫there's a million eyes, I don't care if they're watching. ♫

"Hey, let's dance!" Harry shouts over the music right into your ear.

Your feet are hurting like a bitch, you're too intoxicated to argue back as you grab his hand and he leads you to the dance floor.

Harry knows everyone is watching as you put your arms around his neck and he puts his hands on your incredibly sexy hips, but he doesn't care. both of your hips are grinding together, still facing each other. Until you decide to kick it up a notch and turn around. Your ass directly hitting his bulge. You start swaying your hips in a rhythmic motion and all harry is thinking about is how better this will be if you're naked.

♫your body saying everything I don't have to read your mind. ♫

And not surprising, but you're thinking that too. You grasp the back of his neck, bringing his head down, as you tilt your head to the side and his lips instantly kissing the skin. Your breath is unsteady due to the close body heat. Harry's hands roaming up and down your sides as he plants them on your hips to stop you from grinding onto his now hard on and spins you around. he smirks and opens his mouth, "Let's get out of here."

Finally.

♫feel you on my neck while I'm climbing a taxi. ♫

You and harry stumble out of the club, unable to keep the hands from running up and down your bodies. Harry tries calling a taxi, but is too distracted from you on his neck, licking, kissing, and sucking.

He chuckles, "Babe. one moment," he waves his hand to a taxi.

A taxi finally stops and as the night is a go.

♫climbing over me, while I climb in the backseat. ♫

Harry gets into the cab first, checking the driver and cab to see if it's legit and safe, and although, it may have been safer to just call his driver, he couldn’t wait any longer.

Once he's inside the cab, you follow right after literally climbing over him to the other side of the cab from where you both entered. You rest your legs in his lap and kiss his neck. You then lick up his neck, up to his earlobe and gently bite done. harry's head tilted to the side, looking up. He lets out a 'mmm. love when you do that.' You smirk, feeling accomplished.

You realize you haven't even kissed his lips yet. so you grab his face, bringing it towards you, and kissing his pink lips. he's taken back by the action, but immediately kisses back, putting his hand on your back, pulling you closer. he slips his tongue into your mouth and there's only one word that you're feeling about having his tongue in your throat and this only situation in general: euphoric. You're simply excited and you can tell harry is too. you smile against his lips, ready for the night to begin.

♫now we're taking it off, now we're taking it off tonight. ♫

The door slams loud against the wall and you both rush in to get in. With lips never failing to leave each other, he manages to find his way to his room without knocking anything off.

You're walking backwards towards the bed, but you quickly turn around so he's walking back and you push him onto the bed.

He smirks, motioning his two fingers back and forth, telling me to 'come here.' you instantly jump on top of him, your legs on the sides as his body is in between.

The kiss turns into a more heavy make out session with heavy breathing. You quickly unbutton his shirt as he shifts to the top of the bed. you quickly take off his shirt and fumble with his belt and jeans...

Meanwhile, he lifts your dress up and takes notice of the thong you're wearing. red, just like your heels. He grabs your ass squeezing it harshly. You moan into his mouth and smile, instantly reconnecting your lips. Harry moves one hand closer to your pussy and runs two fingers slightly and slowly against your slit. you whimper at the amazing contact.

He slips a finger inside, but it's only there for about two seconds until you say, "No time for that, want you right now." He smirks, agreeably nodding.

He flips you onto your back so he's on top. He slides your dress down and he's admiring your beautiful body. You suddenly feel shy since he's not naked, so you pull him in for another kiss and push his boxers down. He kicks them off the bed, taking it off for tonight.

"Ready, baby?"

"So ready," you say while licking your hand slightly and stroking his dick.

He smirks as he grabs his very, very hard dick and slowly pushes it in. You gasp at the feeling of how big he is, but you immediately get used to it, letting out a moan. Harry also lets out a moan at the tight walls that are hugging him.

Harry starts to rock his hips in a slow motion, but you can't take it.

"Faster. Go faster, Harry." He obeys immediately, sitting up on his knees, and starts going faster and harder. He goes hard that you have push on the head board for you to stop rocking so much and preventing you from hitting your head against it.

Harry is letting out raspy, deep groans and you're sure that's the hottest sound you've heard in your life. You sit up, carefully not making him lose contact with you, and give him a tongueful kiss. He's still sitting on his knees and grabs your lower back, pulling you closer so you're chest to chest with him. Harry sits on his shins and you wrap your arms around his neck and plant your feet next to his sides and slowly rock your hips, grinding on him. He places multiple kisses your shoulder, feeling his lips pepper you sweetly. You let go of his neck and place your hands back on the bed below you as Harry is still in the same position. You let your legs and hips do all the work. Working up and down on him, feeling every inch of him. Harry stares shockingly at your beauty and sexiness. He’s in pure bliss as he watches you ride him. He sits there with his hands running up and down your thighs then to the bud of nerve with his thumb, intensifying your high. Your legs hold you up and you keep moving, determining to get to your climax.

Harry pushes your shoulder back onto the bed, making you flop down. He grabs your hips with force and starts thrusting harder, determined to get both of you to the peak. And after all the moans and groans, the sweat, and sore legs, you both finally reach intensity. You put your hand on you the top of chest, feeling your heart beat racing through your chest. Harry throws his head back as he runs his hands over your breasts and kisses you once more.

Harry pulls out and lies next to her. There was no cuddling, just trying to catch both's breath in a room that was so hot and stuffy. Hands down, it was harry's best and it was for you too. You just knew it probably wasn't going to happen again, no matter how much she wanted it again. Although, harry is thinking opposite. He wanted it again and again. He simply craved it and is already thinking about the next time he’ll touch you again. Harry wanted to go again, but he didn't want to seem too desperate.

Once each breath was caught, you get up and scramble for your clothes. Harry knew it was one of those kinds of things, so he didn't want to stop her if she wanted to leave, but he had to tell her that he wanted to see her again. After you dressed, he walks you to the front door. You rejected a ride home from him, thinking he's just being nice, but really wants you out already. Until he gives you a piece of paper. You look down at it and see a phone number on it, you look up.

Harry staring down at her smiling and gives her a kiss, "Call me when you're lonely, baby.”

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #temporary fix #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #older writings

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