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suhkusa · 8 months ago

Text

TO THE TOP.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!Reader

SUMMARY. Sakusa Kiyoomi was ranked #1 in his class. Was, at least until you came along. After this revelation, he makes it a (personal) challenge to overtake you. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a genius at everything he does, but for once he finds it a challenge when it comes to you.

CW. hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, rivals to lovers except kiyoomi is the only one competing, idiots in love (but theyre actually geniuses), high school setting, ~3k words

A/N. Got inspired from a tiktok and came up with this word vom hope u enjoy

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Academically, at least.

While all his classmates found themselves struggling to take tests or study, it was as natural as breathing for Kiyoomi. There were some cons to being as incredibly intelligent as him, but he found himself drowning in the gratification of being #1.

At least until the 2nd semester of his third year. At least until you.

———

Class Rank: 2

Sakusa finds himself staring at the transcript in his hand, as if his ogling would have an effect in changing the number presented before him.

His eyes scan through his class history, looking for any clues as to how he might’ve dropped in ranking. But there was nothing. All A’s, and as many extra classes stuffed into each year as possible.

Kiyoomi’s home room was rowdy as students caught up with one another, as winter break had just ended. While in his own little world, his ears catch onto a couple of words his classmates threw around.

“I heard Sakusa isn’t the top in our class anymore, is that true?”

“Woah, hasn’t he been the top of our class since the 1st year? I wonder who was able to catch up,”

His eye twitched a bit at that one.

“It was that new girl, Y/N,”

The paper crumbled slightly under his grasp. Y/N?

The ring of the bell, signifying the start of class, caused him to slightly jump in his seat. Kiyoomi crumbles his transcript before tossing it in his bag, it’s going to change soon anyways.

He would just have to step up his game.

———

It was ironic really. The world really loved to test Sakusa Kiyoomi, and not only at his school subjects. Of course, you were his desk partner in his math class. Only he had the amazing luck of being seated next to his new self-declared rival.

Kiyoomi knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t himself because you’re the number one student? You?!

Honestly, you don’t seem like the academic type. You seem too pretty to be caring about stuff like that. At first, he considers the fact that you could be using your looks to get people to do the dirty work for you. But he witnesses first-hand as you write down every math equation, answer every question correctly, and even check your work not once, but twice.

His hyperfixation on you is bad. So bad, he missed the whole introduction lesson and is trying to rapidly copy down what’s on the whiteboard as the teacher is erasing it. Fuck-

“Would you like to see my notes?”

Kiyoomi’s pencil comes to a halt as he looks back at you, your papers are being pushed towards him on the desk. He watches as your eyes widen, as if you suddenly became self conscious.

“I-Is there something on my face? You were staring at me so I wasn’t sure…”

Shit.

“No,” he tries to make up something, but what comes out of his mouth is stupid, “I was just looking past you,” it appears it’s sufficient though, as you nod in response.

“I see, well, did you want to see them?” you gestured to the notes between the two of you.

Kiyoomi tells himself that if you hadn’t offered, he wouldn’t have asked. But since you oh so kindly offered them up, who was he to say no? He doesn’t need them. He could always ask his cousin, though his handwriting resembles chicken scratch more than human writing.

“Sure,” he takes the papers and positions them in a way where he could just look between them and his own.

In his head, Kiyoomi is scolding himself over and over again for not paying attention. This cannot be a regular thing. If he was going to take back his rank, he needed to be on his A-Game.

His pencil slaps against his desk as he finishes, quickly sliding your papers back towards you.

“Thanks,” Kiyoomi offers.

He watches from his peripheral vision as you smile and give back an “Anytime,” before gathering your things and getting up to go to your next class.

Kiyoomi doesn’t know what it was about you, but he could tell he was going to need to up his game. This was war.

———

By the second week of sitting by you, he decides you’re annoying. More annoying than the people who talk while the teacher is talking. Which, in his book, is hard to beat.

Maybe you weren’t as smart as he pinned you to be, since you kept helping Kiyoomi with his work when he did not need it.

Though, you were only able to backseat his work because you somehow finished before him. He’s used to being the only one who sits back and relaxes as the rest of his class struggles to complete the practice problems.

It’s weird though. Because as much as Sakusa hates your yapping, he doesn’t find himself putting an end to it. Instead your voice plays in the background as he completes his work.

He hates it, or at least that’s what he tells himself, the way you praise him like a little kid when he finally completes the work sheet.

“Nice job!” you smile at him, “but, how come you don’t check your work to make sure you’re right?”

“Because I’m always right,” he replies with a slight roll of his eyes.

You laugh at that, I’m not joking, he thinks.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you tell him.

Kiyoomi gives you a shrug, “Whatever,”

———

A month in, he begins to indulge in your shenanigans. But only because he had felt bad.

During the third week of sitting by each other, you had taken his short and dry responses personally. You halted your chatter and no longer offered to help like you usually did. The way the classroom felt quiet without your talking was eerie, so Sakusa reluctantly decided that he’d rather hear your voice instead of nothing at all.

So a month in is when your friendship, or whatever you called it, began with him.

“Why do you use erasable pens? Just use a pencil,” he questions you, eyes peering down at your pen.

You look taken aback as you respond, “I don’t know, is there something wrong with it?” you examine your pen, “I just found it on the floor and stuck with it,”

First of all, gross, remind him not to touch you or your belongings ever. “It’s just a hassle, sometimes it doesn’t erase,”

“Well, it hasn’t given me any problems, so!” you exclaim as you get back to write on your practice quiz. “This is kind of challenging, huh?”

“Nah,” he lies, “You’re just stupid,”

You laugh in his face, “Rude,” Kiyoomi watches as you glimpse at his paper before going back to yours, “That’s why you got the first problem wrong and I didn’t say anything,”

Sakusa can feel his eyebrows scrunch up, he’s quick as he glances at it and then yours. Fuck. He’s mumbling something under his breath and he begrudgingly erases the circle around his answer.

“Told ya,” you smile before moving onto the last problem, “you know, we should hangout or something,”

“No,” he’s quick to cut you off, catching you by surprise.

“Whaaat, it doesn’t have to be like that, weirdo,” it seems like you’re going back on what you meant, “Like to study,”

“Still, no,”

“C’mon, don’t knock it till you try it,” you nudge at him, and to be honest, if you were anyone else he might’ve punched you, “please, just once,”

You’re annoying and pushy. But he supposes that if saying yes to you would get you to leave him alone, he’d say, “Fine, whatever, it has to be my house, though. Your house is probably messy,”

Kiyoomi watches as your face slowly brightens before silently celebrating to yourself as you get your way with him once again.

———

“Wow,” you’re amazed as you walk through Sakusa’s house, “your house is so nice, do you have a maid to keep it clean or something?”

“No, just me,” he says before leading you into his room, “please don’t make a mess,”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you say before settling down on his rug, playing with the soft threads, “Okay, I was hoping to review the practice quiz, I know the teacher said I got it right but I feel like there were some parts that had me second guessing myself,”

You’re quick to open up your textbook and blab about whatever problem you were having trouble with. You actually came over to study. Kiyoomi was under the impression that once you got over to his house you’d make him do whatever silly shit you usually have in mind. But no, you actually respected his wishes. Which in turn, earned you some respect from him as well.

“So you’re number one, huh?” He asks, looking up from his textbook to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s surprising that all my credits from my old school carried over,” you mindlessly say as you continue to write on your sheet of paper.

The sound of the pencils scribbling on paper fills the room before you interrupt it, “You were rank one before I came, right?”

His pencil stills, “Mhm,” It was a touchy subject, though he never thought he’d hear it from you.

“I’m sorry,” you surprised him, “When I found out I took your ranking spot, I was nervous because people are serious about that stuff. And then, when I got seated by you and you stared me down, I thought you hated my guts,”

Well, you had it down to the T, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s out of your control,” you smile at his words.

“Thank you,”

It’s then, in his room, when he realizes he’s losing sight of his goal. To overtake your position. As he watched you look back down at your textbook, he found himself locking in as well.

He needed to get serious, now.

———

These hangouts, or study dates, or study hangouts, whatever, became basically practice. Always at his house, though. Since he couldn’t fathom the idea of how dirty your room might be.

“I don’t know how you balance volleyball and school, Omi,” you say from your position lying on his floor.

“Don’t call me that,”

You laugh before continuing, “All I do is school and I’m always exhausted. I had to quit my shifts at the cafe down the road because I would fall asleep before making it to my room,”

“Dangerous, Y/N,” he says, frantically writing down practice problem after practice problem.

Picking yourself off the ground, “Wow, you’re serious about this final, huh, Omi,”

He glares at you, causing you to laugh again, “Sorry, sorry,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before he looks back at his paper, “but you know it’s okay to take a break, right, that’s all you’ve been doing. We haven’t even gotten to try to compete for today’s Wordle yet,”

“Mhm,” is all he offers you.

You sigh in response to that, “Boring, so boring,” you say as you lay back down

“You can go home if you’re bored,”

“Ugh, rude,” you roll around to make yourself comfortable, “I would but sadly I like being in your presence,”

“Whatever you say,”

“Do you like being in mine?” you question, causing Sakusa to hesitate on the problem he was on.

“You’re tolerable,”

You find yourself cheesing, “That’s a yes in my book,”

———

Finals are coming up. There’s so much on your mind, that you finally decide to let one of the thoughts that have been driving you crazy go. The fact that you like Sakusa Kiyoomi.

It’s nerve wracking. Not only because you’re basically confessing your feelings, but also because he’s your only friend you’ve made since being here. A lot of people think he’s rude and condescending, but to you he’s different.

He lets you talk your head off about whatever your brain decides fits best. And while he gives you short responses, they show you that he’s listening and observant. He’s on your level regarding academics and can keep up to your train of thought. He just cares.

And while you hope he might feel the same despite only knowing you for the past couple of months, you chalk it up to fate as to whether or not your intuition is correct.

As you approach the gymnasium, you slow and quiet your steps as you hear familiar voices by the entrance.

“You’ve been hanging out with Y/N quite a bit, huh, cous’? Your mom told mines,” you assume is Komori based on his words.

“Yes. It’s not like that, though,” you recognize as Sakusa.

You assume he might be fronting since it is his cousin, and feelings are embarrassing at times.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t like her, she’s like one of the prettiest girls in class and she’s smart. So like, your type,” Komori pushes. And while part of you likes that he said that, you soon take it back after Kiyoomi’s words.

“I don’t like her. I only put up with her because she’s so pushy and always hovers over me while I try to do my work. Plus, she took my ranking spot,”

The world feels silent for a second, the only sound audible to you is the sound of your heart slowly breaking.

“She’s just a nuance, honestly,”

Your feet are moving before you realize. Slowly backing away before running the opposite direction.

He doesn’t like you? You were right that he hates you because you’re number one? He let you into his house but only because you pushed him? Your thoughts are running faster than your own legs, you don’t even realize the drips of water slowly running down your cheeks.

If number one was what he wanted, then you were going to give it to him.

———

Kiyoomi finds it weird. Finds you weird. Well, he’s always found you weird, but particularly as of recent. But only because you’re quiet. And have been for the past couple of days.

At first, he assumes it’s because the finals had finally arrived and you wanted to focus on your work. Which, respect, because it also allowed him to focus on his own.

But even after the finals had passed, you were still quiet. You opted for doodling in your notebook instead of talking to him about a new video game you’ve hyper fixated on or this new show you started to watch.

It’s even weirder when the teacher is going around passing out the graded math finals, that he stops by your desk, letting out a whispered, “I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,”

Kiyoomi hears, and it calls his attention towards your paper before even his own. His eyes widened.

A big, fat, red 0 marked at the top of your quiz.

“Y/N-”

“Are you happy now, Number 1?” you ask, still looking down at your paper.

He’s about to ask you what the hell you’re talking about before the bells conveniently cut him off, allowing you to take off without a second glance back at him.

His mind is caught up on your words, Number 1. Kiyoomi has never brought up his disdain regarding the rankings to you, ever. Yes, it bothered him at first. But eventually he didn’t mind it, since the only person he’d ever allow to be above him is you.

Kiyoomi thinks back on any time he’s ever mentioned it before he remembers the one time he had ever verbally brought it up to anyone. But there was no way… unless.

Fuck, Sakusa thinks as the bright red 100 on his paper stares back at him. It mocked him, poking at his head uncomfortably. Without a second thought, he crumbles the paper before stuffing it into his bag. Kiyoomi had finally gotten back what he’s been working for this whole time, so why does he feel empty?

Kiyoomi realizes then that while you may have lost your Rank 1 position, he was the true loser. Because he didn’t have you.

———

He finds himself at your door before he even knows it. He’s giving an excuse of “she left her notebook,” to your parents as they direct him to where your room is.

When he finally walks in, he’s shocked. Your room is clean.

Even as you lay in your bed so peacefully, the space around you is clean, and he feels like it’s safe to walk in.

“Y/N,” is his first attempt at waking you up, before he’s walking closer to your bed, crouching down a bit to pat your back, “Y/N,” again.

It’s by the fourth or fifth time that he calls your name that you finally look up at him, and you look heavenly.

He’s always known you were pretty, but even more so now you were gorgeous, hair messy, eyes droopy with sleepiness. You were perfect.

Your eyes blink a couple times before you look like you’ve processed who is standing before you. Quickly sitting up, hands moving every which way to fix your appearance, “Omi- I mean Sakusa what are- what do you want?”

Ouch.

“You need to leave, I-I don’t want to see you,” your voice is beginning to tremble and it hurts him, “You finally got what you wanted, I don’t know what more you want,”

“You, I want you,”

Your face drops in disbelief, “No, you don’t. I heard you, what you said,”

“Y/N-”

“No, you hurt me, Kiyoomi. I like you,” you cry, “You can’t just say all of that and then show up out of nowhere claiming otherwise,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he’s kneeling now, allowing him to be the same height as you as you sit in your bed, weeping, “I-I’m sorry,”

His rough thumb smoothes away your tears as they fall, “I didn’t mean it, I was frustrated- and that’s no excuse for what I said, I fucked up really bad,” with every word another sob breaks loose from you, “And I’m sorry,”

“At first, all I ever wanted was to be rank #1, but then you came along and changed everything… Then I realized that it wasn’t being #1 I wanted, it was you,” he continues, “and that’s scary, because my ranking was all I’ve known all these years,”

“But even so, you made it okay. I was okay with being #2, I was so caught up in you that I forgot I ever wanted to be #1 in the first place,” your eyes finally meet behind the thick tears in your lashes, “I like you, Y/N,”

He can tell you’re at a loss for words. And for once he can finally say he has out-talked you.

Until finally, you decide words aren’t sufficient in this situation. Before he knows it, you’re leaning forward, and your lips are on his. The kiss is short, but definitely more than a peck. But it felt infinite to Kiyoomi. He never wanted the moment to end, and found himself sad as you finally pulled away.

You stared him down for a brief second before tackling him down to the ground in a big hug, “I hate you, Omi,” you laugh angrily.

“Sure,” he smugly replies, watching as you smile into his shirt.

“My number one,” you sarcastically mutter as you fake pout at him.

He cringes, “Ugh, don’t. I feel guilty, why would you even do that? You’re crazy,”

“Because I don’t care about the ranking. I never did. Plus it somehow only dropped me to #2 since the rest of our class failed and I’ve taken too many extra classes,” you say, “I only cared about you,”

Kiyoomi smiles at you before crushing you in his hug.

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Especially now, his feelings for you.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #sakusa x reader #hq angst #sakusa angst #haikyuu x reader angst #sakusa fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #raeworks #sakusa x reader angst

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ellesthots · 1 month ago

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iiiii have a one shot prompt!! (if that’s okay)

Bruce and reader in a long term relationship and one day they hit him with “I want a baby” and scare the living Christ out of him?? (the idea came to me in a dream)

u don’t gotta write it if you don’t wanna I jsut thought I’d try to suggest :)

“with you”

bruce wayne x reader

words: 1.3k

“I want to have a baby.”

The statement fell out after feeling Bruce’s gentle hands on you as he maneuvered to the cutlery, his soft laugh lilting in your ear. You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You’d already almost cracked the night before when he opened a new box of condoms. Your words echoed across the suddenly silent kitchen, and his hands dropped from your waist.

The only indication he’d heard you—or that he hadn’t disappeared—was the breathy, nearly inaudible “What?” a foot behind. You turned to look and he took a step back. His face was ghostly pale, eyes wide. In four years together he’d never looked so petrified, let alone of you.

He prayed he hadn’t heard you correctly. He never prayed. Maybe you wanted to start babysitting, simply have babies around. Surely you didn’t mean…

You cleared your throat, wondering if he truly hadn’t comprehended it. “I want to have a baby with you.”

You’d anticipated some apprehension, sure, it was why you’d wanted to wait until after dinner when you were both relaxed. But Bruce loved kids, and kids loved him. Every holiday with your family all the little cousins, nieces, and nephews flocked to him like a shiny new toy, pouting when he’d have to leave. On your second date (after realizing he was more than just a pretty face—and damn was it pretty), you’d asked the usual questions to filter out mismatches.

“Do you want kids?” You crossed your fingers under the table, conjuring the power of the universe to make this perfect, perfect man be in total alignment.

“Someday, yes. Absolutely.” He smiled, directed the question to you (‘Yes’, and by this point you were absolutely swooning), and the date continued without a hitch.

Now he stared at you like you’d asked him to bury a body.

The pit in your stomach morphed into a boulder as he stumbled out of the kitchen toward the hall. “I need a minute.”

He didn’t hear you say anything else, so he took off down the hallway. Then turned back around, his body buzzing. You stared limply at the bags of groceries adorning the countertops, your eyes flickering up to his in surprise.

“A baby?” The words felt foreign on his tongue. Already the responsibility tore at him, making the edges of his vision white out.

“You said you wanted kids.” Your eyes narrowed when you noticed the shallow heave of his chest. Was he scared?

He wheezed a nervous laugh and leaned against the hallway entrance. He had no clue how to articulate that it was still true with the wind knocked out of him. Not in any way that would be convincing. But so soon? Four years was… not nothing, but he suddenly felt like a helpless child.

He had panic attacks sometimes, and this looked like the beginning of one. As you left the kitchen to close the distance between you, you ached to think that you wanting to start a family would induce such a state. Your voice was softer, tentative. “Do you not want to have one with me?”

Your somber gaze met his like a caress. “Of course I do.” Your face, your eyes, your heart… he couldn’t imagine starting a family with anyone else. The thought was outright blasphemy. He’d thought he wanted kids—no, he knew he wanted kids, but the way you said it made it not only feel real, but within reach. It brought all his fears to the surface.

‘Of course I do’, but he looked devastated, frozen. His hand was quivering when you took it, and when your fingers interlaced, he squeezed. Staring at you with unblinking, timid eyes that broke your heart. His mouth opened but nothing came out. You released his hand, upset you’d even brought it up. “Let’s make dinner, okay?”

Ten minutes prior, the kitchen was full of whistles, jokes, and the crunch of snacking on groceries. At present, the hollow sound of knives slapping wood cutting boards filled the space. You lamented on the terrible timing of your ask, kicking yourself for not taking greater care. Talking about getting pregnant, about having and raising a child, starting a family, it wasn’t something you could be so flippant about. No wonder he’d reacted like that.

Dinner was tense. You ate in silence, punctuated only by an occasional scrape of metal on ceramic. Bruce was so kind, probably preparing how to let you down easily. Ask to push it back a few years. Promise to be ready by then, apologizing for making you wait.

He got up abruptly, leaving to where you could only imagine was the Batcave. You put your head in your hands. Or he’d changed his mind, and was about to break things off with you. You shoved your plate away, tears springing to your eyes. You knew it was too good to last. It would always end up here eventually.

Bruce didn’t come back for hours. You tried to distract by vegging out on the couch to a show, but your stomach swam with tight, jumbled knots. On a constant loop were memories you’d never experience again. Last holidays together, last nights sleeping in the same bed, soon to be last hugs. Hopefully he’d at least give you a kiss goodbye. You pulled a blanket over you as a chill swept your bones. It didn’t warm you.

By the time you heard movement in the house, you’d migrated to your shared bedroom and tucked under the covers. How would you explain it to your parents? That the man you loved more than anything in the world would now be relegated to pictures stowed in their attic? His footsteps drew closer. You held your breath. This is it.

He stood in the doorframe, illuminated in the night by a single bedside lamp. You’d miss this. You’d miss him. So much.

You spoke at the same time. “I’ll get my stuff.”

“Let’s do it.”

Your ‘what’s stacked atop each other. His brow furrowed as he stepped into the room, crouching beside the bed. The air had been removed from your lungs. “I thought…” You searched his face, dizzy. “With the way you were acting,”

He shook his head, horrified he’d left you like this so long. “I’m so sorry,” he took your hand and drew reassuring circles along your palm. He’d come up as quickly as he could get a reign on himself, get his body to stop shaking and his mind to stop racing. He’d wanted to ensure this moment would be a good one, not ruined by his anxieties.

“It made it feel tangible when you said it, and…” he trailed off, thoughts swirling again. He swallowed hard. “I was nervous. I am nervous. I don’t have experience with it, of even being parented.” The rumination he’d tried to leave in the cave came back to him. “What if something happened to us, or something happened to them?” He struggled to blink away the sting in his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

And everything clicked into place. You cupped his cheek with your cold, clammy hand, soothed by the heat off his skin and the roughness of his stubble. He leaned into your touch. For a minute you both sat in the tenderness, soft waves of wondering how you could convince him he had nothing to worry about. That even if he did mess up, or something did happen, he was persevering, loving, and everything good in the world.

“But I want to try." As his panic had subsided, he'd been left with a thought so hopeful and persuasive it threatened a sob: he didn't want the possibility of tragedy to stop him from living.

"I’d do anything with you. I want this.” He wore his earnestness on his sleeve, his words mushy and saccharine, if a little shaky. Looking into your glowing, radiant face, imagining it mirrored. A small smile tugged up his lips. “As long as they have your eyes.”

a/n: this was such a cute idea!! i can imagine him becoming overwhelmed almost thinking he's a living curse, down there freaking out about potentially traumatizing someone like he'd been traumatized, or the fear of having his heart walking around outside of his body. thanks so much for the prompt!!! <3

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tinydefector · 8 months ago

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TFP Shockwave with a pet human who he's come to be rather affectionate with absent mindedly and has become more interactive with them outside of experiments even. One day human goes missing / isn't in usual spot and Shockwave is trying to figure out wtf is going on but then a con makes a cruel joke (anyone of choosing I thought arachnid or starscream) that they fell out of their cage and got caught underfoot whoopsies . how does Shockwave react before the human comes out from their hiding spot where they were resting??? O_O

Out of Reach

Shockwave x human

Warning: none

Word count: 1k

Shockwave masterlist

_________________________

Shockwave grew increasingly troubled as his thorough search of the lab turned up no sign of his human companion. They were always precisely where he expected upon his arrival, yet this cycle they were nowhere to be found. A nagging unease arose within the Decepticon scientist, though he remained outwardly calm as he searched.

Shockwave diligently swept across the laboratory once more, searching for any trace or clue that could indicate the human's whereabouts or condition. This simply made no logical sense. They had never hidden from him, something must have happened. Had something interfered with the lab's systems without triggering alerts? No breaches were indicated. Shockwave did not appreciate unexplained variables in his work.The sooner this small mystery was solved, the better.

Arachnid watches with a smirk on her lips as Shockwave walks through the halls checking different areas and in hopes that his little companion was just hiding. "Missing something Shockwave?" She inquires with a raised optic brow, not looking rather interested.

Shockwave paused in his meticulous vent searches to regard the inquisitive Arachnid. She took far too much pleasure in others' losses, however minor.

"My human subject is absent from their Enclosure without explanation," he stated flatly. No sense indulging her obvious gloating. "Their whereabouts remain unknown." Her smirk only widened. "And you thought you had everything so neatly ordered. Surprises happen, even to our beloved scientist." Her tone held thinly veiled mockery. "Perhaps a fleshling has more spirit than you gave it credit for."

Shockwave disregarded her taunting for now. "If you possess any data that could aid my investigation, speak. Else your presence here serves no purpose." His patience for games was nonexistent. She lets out a huff as she turns away. "Last I saw them Starscream was rambling about discarding the little pest, I would much rather have added them to my collection, but no use once they are squished" she replies amusement flicking in her optics. It makes Shockwave's spark go cold at the thought.

Starscream, interfering in his work yet again... but to harm the human? It made no sense. "Elaborate. What precisely did Starscream say?" Starscream's actions often lacked reason, but there had to be a thread of logic here. The thought of harm coming to his research subject was. displeasing.

His optic narrowed on Arachnid, another smile graced her lips. "If my memory serves correctly, starscream stepped on them when he was in your laboratory last, and decided it was easier to discard them before they made a mess with all their bloo " she teases. She was going to see just how far Shockwave was willing to go for the little flesh bag.

Something akin to anger flashed through Shockwave's circuits at Arachnid's vague 'memory' and obvious game. Starscream would pay dearly for damaging laboratory property and disrupting critical research. His optic burned into hers. "Show me. Now."

Starscream looks up from his data pad when the sound of Shockwave's shadow forms over him. Arachnid gives him a little wave before stalking off, leaving Shockwave with him. "What can I do for you, Shockwave, as you can see I am rather busy" he states, wings flickering in annoyance at being interrupted.

"You will explain the human's current status and your role in their disappearance, Starscream," he stated calmly. Too calmly, given the swirling calculations within his processor. "Arachnid insinuated you were involved with deactivating them."

Starscream shifted uneasily under that baleful optical lens. “How dare you accuse me!” he snarls as his optics glare at the scientist. Shockwave cut him off. "The human. Where is it? I will have answers, one way or another. Do not test me further, Starscream."

"You babbling Moron I haven't been anywhere near your Lab nor near that disgusting little creature you adore!I'm Sure Arachnid would just love to add them to her collection of prizes and is using this time to hunt them" Starscream snarls out wings flickering even more as Shockwave threatens him.

The moment those words leave Starscream, Shockwave turned on a heel strut and departed, optic aglow with sheer anger. When Shockwave stalks back into his laboratory Arachnid isn't paying attention as she looks through the vents eager to try and find the human before Shockwave's return.A faint whirring was Shockwave's only warning before his blaster cannon trained directly on Arachnid's backstrut. "Cease your prowling immediately, My companion is off limits as is instructed by Lord Megatron" he commanded, weapon charged and ready.

She froze at the sound of his calm yet irrefutable voice. “Such a shame, yet you still have found your precious little pet, perhaps they have finally abandoned you” she sneers back at him. His optic narrowed to a slit. He took a measured step forward. "The human. Where have you hidden or disposed of them, Arachnid?" A hiss escaped her in mingled frustration and wary respect. Lying to Shockwave was never wise. Slowly, delicately, she extracted herself away from the vent. "I have no idea."

Movement catches Shockwave optics from over on his bench, it makes both Decepticons helms snap to the moment. "What time is it?" the little human asked while rubbing their eyes as they pulled the large cloth around their body. walking out of the unoccupied crate that originally held Shockwave's energon cube rations. Arachnid snarls as she pushes Shockwave off before stalking out of the lab. "What was that about?" They mumble tiredly.

Shockwave's cannon whirred down as he took in the dishevelled yet apparently unharmed human, "It is roughly mid-cycle," he replied calmly, his servo moving across their frame taking in their appearance making sure they are not injured. all traces of anger leave his processes.

"You appear undamaged. How did you get to be within the energon container? Arachnid led me to believe you'd been.harmed." he questioned, Relief pulsed through his lines, though he showed no outward emotion.

"I fell asleep in there last night while you were working, sorry I didn't mean to cause any issues" they state as he lifts them up. Shockwave processed this new information and he cursed himself for not checking the crate. "You have nothing for which to apologise for " he replied calmly, holding the human against his chassis. “I ask that you alert me as to your wear about before recharge for your own safety” he states before setting down with them in his servos.

______________

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#transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #idw shockwave #tfp shockwave #transformers shockwave #shockwave transformers #shockwave #shockwave x human #shockwave x reader

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natsaffection · 1 month ago

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Auge um Auge Pt. 1 | N.R

Investigator!older!Natasha x Robber!younger!reader

Warnings: Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22) heist, hostage

Word Count: 4,6 K

A/N: This is the first of many. I tried to design the phone calls in a way that you can tell who the scene is currently focusing on. If the text is written in italics, it means the person is just be heard over the phone, we can’t see the person. Does it make sense? 😀✨

Inside the café, you sat alone at a corner table. You had chosen this spot instinctively: back to the wall, with a clear view of all the windows and exits. A cryptic clue had brought you here, an anonymous message about “an opportunity to make good money” and your curiosity had pushed you to accept. You didn’t know how carefully orchestrated this “coincidental” meeting really was.

A man entered, moving deliberately slowly as he looked around. Then, his eyes met yours. With that one deliberate glance, you felt his unspeakable presence. Without asking, he sat down across from you and placed a worn leather briefcase on the table between you. For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. The quiet hum of conversations and clinking cups in the café filled the silence, but in your immediate surroundings, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared.

“Thank you for coming.” he began, his voice so smooth and even that it could have calmed thunder. “I know the message was vague. But if it caught your attention, then I believe I was right to seek you out.” Your posture remained guarded, one hand resting on the table, the other hanging loosely below, close enough to your bag where you kept a small knife. You had reasons to mistrust strangers offering you “opportunities.” Yet something about his demeanor made you hesitate in your suspicion. “Who exactly are you?”

He tilted his head and offered a slight smile. “My name isn’t important right now. What matters is that I know you. I’ve done my research. Born in a small village outside Madrid, left at nineteen to find work in the city. Smart, but restless. Various odd jobs, some of questionable legality.” He paused, letting the words linger in the air. “You have certain..talents. Quick thinking. A knack for improvisation. And most importantly: a silver tongue when you choose to use it. A gift for distraction.” You stiffened, a flicker of indignation flashing in your eyes. “Do you run background checks on everyone who responds to your cryptic messages?”

“I only contact people who have the potential to be exceptional.” he replied simply. “You’re resourceful, charming when it suits you, and you know how to read people. That’s exactly what I need.” You felt both flattered and uneasy. Your head swirled with questions. Who was this man? Why you? Yet his way of speaking made you curious enough to listen, if only to figure out what game he was playing.

After a moment of silence, the man leaned forward and opened the worn leather briefcase, revealing a neatly arranged set of papers. “I have a plan..” he said slowly, each word precise. “A plan that requires a group of very specific individuals, each with their own unique skills. The payoff, if done correctly, will be unimaginable.”

He slid a sheet toward you, a digitized blueprint of the Spanish National Bank. You raised an eyebrow, forcing yourself not to overreact, but your pulse quickened. Everyone in the city had heard of elaborate heists, but this? This was a whole different league. “You’re seriously planning to rob a bank?” you asked in a hushed voice. His gaze didn’t waver. “Not just rob it. Print. We’ll control the bank from the inside and print our own money. Theoretically billions, without harming any hostages, if everything goes according to plan.” He let that sink in before continuing in the same calm tone. “I want to be honest. It’s dangerous. But if executed with precision, we can pull it off with minimal risk.”

You swallowed hard. Small-time cons, pickpocketing, the occasional forged ID, those were nothing new to you. But this was on a scale you’d never imagined. “Why me?” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady. The man clasped his hands together. “Because the role I need to fill is unique. I need someone who can manipulate from a distance. Someone who can talk, persuade, and distract. The police will send their best negotiators, their best investigators. I need our best talker to run them in circles.”

You studied the blueprints, “And you think I can do that?” He smiled faintly, a hint of warmth breaking through his cool exterior. “I know you can. You see, most of the people I’ve recruited so far are experts in other areas..lockpicking, explosives, hacking. But none of them have your talent for conversation and deception. We need you to mislead the police or divert their attention through phone calls if necessary. Maybe even face-to-face, under the right circumstances.” His expression grew serious. “You’ll be the voice standing between them and us.”

Your thoughts raced. This was insane. But the promise of such an enormous reward, combined with the sudden spark of possibility, tugged at you. Could you really pull this off? Deceiving the police? You couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement pulsing beneath your skin. “That’s..a big challenge.” The man nodded. “I’m aware of that. And it won’t be easy. You’ll be taught, trained. I have an entire plan for handling negotiations, exploiting their psychology. But your role, your brilliance in improvisation will be crucial.” You clenched your jaw, forcing the surge of adrenaline back.

“Let’s say I agree..What guarantee do I have that you won’t let me take the fall if this all goes wrong?” His eyes softened. A carefully orchestrated expression of compassion. “I don’t pick people just to abandon them. I want every one of us to leave that bank alive and wealthier than we ever dreamed. I’ll make arrangements for everything, including your safety.”

You studied him closely. There was something reassuring about his self-confidence, the way he radiated unshakable calm. But a heist of this magnitude? If you got caught, you could forget the next twenty years of your life maybe more. “Why not just hire a smooth con artist?” you asked, still skeptical.

“I didn’t hire you,” he corrected gently. “I chose you. I’ve followed your career closely. The forgeries you pulled off last year, the incident in Valencia. You disappeared right under the police’s noses. That means you’re not only skilled with words but also unafraid of taking risks.” He tapped the blueprints again. “You’re exactly the person I need.”

You took a sip of your latte, your thoughts racing. Part of you wanted to run, to go back to the life you knew. But a larger, bolder part of you was intrigued. Maybe it was pride, maybe ambition. At twenty-two, you were restless, searching for something bigger than petty crime.

The man noticed your hesitation. “Let me put it another way. If you stay on your current path, how much will you make in five, ten years? Enough for a run-down apartment, enough to get by. If you join me, you walk away with a future you can shape yourself, no more scraping by, no more limited horizons.” You took a deep breath. “I’m not suicidal. I’m not looking for a thrill.”

“Neither am I.” he replied. “But I believe in orchestrating the perfect plan. And you can help make it perfect.” The next half hour was spent discussing hypothetical scenarios: the bank’s security forces, how negotiations typically played out, the psychological profiles of the best police investigators. With every insight the man revealed, you felt more convinced that he knew what he was doing. There was an almost obsessive thoroughness to his approach and it was infectious.

Finally, as the coffee cups were empty and the café had grown quieter, the man leaned back in his chair. “This won’t be a short operation. We’ll spend months at a remote location preparing. You’ll learn negotiation tactics, how to handle phone calls, modulate your voice. We’ll plan for every possible scenario.” You raised an eyebrow. “Months? You’re serious.”

“I’ve been planning this for years.” he said plainly. “And I need complete dedication. If you say yes, you have to be all in.” Your heart pounded loudly in your chest. Your entire future, one path leading you further into small-time cons, the other a leap into the unknown hinged on your next words. You stared into his calm, patient gaze and found something you rarely saw in others: unshakable conviction. “Alright..” you said, your voice quieter than you’d intended. “I’m in.” The man nodded, a flicker of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “I promise you.” he said, closing the folder. “You won’t regret it.”

You left the café with your thoughts racing, the images of the blueprints burned into your mind. Outside, the night felt sharper, colder. But inside, a new spark had ignited a heady mix of fear and possibility. You realized this was the turning point in your life. Whether it led to ruin or triumph, you had stepped onto a path few dared to tread.

That night, as you tossed and turned in your..let’s call it an apartment, the man’s calm smile replayed in your mind. His words echoed: You’ll be our best negotiator. You’ll be the one to stall them. Despite your nerves, excitement coursed through your veins. You imagined talking to lead negotiators, deflecting their questions with clever half-truths, steering them off track to protect your newly formed crew. You thought about one day facing the country’s best investigators, outwitting them, buying precious time. You could hardly believe you’d agreed, but there was no turning back. If the man’s plan was as flawless as he claimed, you would leave that bank with a fortune and a reputation for pulling off the greatest heist in modern history.

Days later, you stepped out of the car. Before you stood the hideout, a large, slightly rundown estate hidden among dense woods. You slung your backpack over one shoulder, trying to mask your nerves as the man led you inside. The house’s interior was simple but functional. The walls were a dull beige, and the furniture looked like it had been pieced together from secondhand stores. At the end of the hallway, you spotted a large whiteboard covered in notes and diagrams.

“You’ll live here with the others.” the man said, opening the door to a modest bedroom with a single bed and a small desk. “This will be your space. I hope you’re comfortable sharing your time and ideas with the team.”

“Are they already here?” you asked, stepping out of the room. “They’ve been waiting for you.” He replied. “Come. It’s time to meet your colleagues.” The team was spread out on mismatched chairs and sofas, chatting loudly and tossing playful insults. When you entered the room, the conversation stopped, and all eyes turned to you.

“Everyone..” the man began, gesturing toward you. “This is our final recruit. She’ll handle external operations, disinformation, strategy, and hacking. You’ll rely on her as much as on each other.” The silence lingered until a tall man with slicked-back hair stood and walked toward you, his steps measured and deliberate. He extended his hand, his gaze cool and appraising.

“What should we call you?” he asked. You shook his hand and met his gaze. “I guess we’ll figure that out.” Berlin grinned and stepped back as the others introduced themselves. Tokyo was the first to offer her hand, her grip firm. “You’re sure she can keep up, professor?” You scoffed. “I’ll manage just fine, thanks.” Rio grinned and waved from the couch. “We had a bet about what kind of person you’d be. I said tech genius.”

“And I said brat..” Nairobi added with a wide grin, arms crossed. “Let’s see who’s right.” The next morning, you sat at a long wooden table in a makeshift classroom, a notebook open in front of you. The rest of the team was scattered around the room, some leaning back in their chairs, others fiddling idly with pens.

The Professor stood at the whiteboard, methodically sketching the layout of the Spanish National Bank. His voice was calm yet compelling as he explained the plan. “This..” he said, circling a section of the blueprint, “is the control room. Once we’re inside, we’ll take control of the security systems and isolate the bank from external interference. And this is where you come in.” He looked directly at you, and you straightened in your chair. “Your job will be to monitor law enforcement communications, lay false trails, and manipulate media coverage. We need the public on our side.”

“Understood.” you said, jotting down notes. “What kind of false trails are we talking about?”

“Think like a magician..” the Professor replied. “The hand the audience sees is never the one doing the work.” Tokyo leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes. “Why does she get to stay outside while we risk our necks inside?”

“Because I can lie better than you.” you shot back with a sly smile. The room erupted in laughter, and even Tokyo couldn’t suppress a grudging grin. After another long day of lectures, the crew gathered in the common room. A half-full bottle of whiskey sat on the table as they relaxed. Nairobi leaned forward, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Alright, it’s time.” she said, tapping the table. “What’s your city name, new girl?” You blinked. “I thought that was just for the people going into the bank.”

“Nope!” Rio said with a broad grin. “If you’re part of the crew, you need a name. House rule.” The others immediately started throwing out suggestions. “Paris” said Nairobi. “Elegant but a little edgy.”

“New York..” Tokyo chimed in. “Got attitude.”

“Vegas!” Denver called out with a laugh. “A wild card…” You rolled your eyes. “You’re all terrible at this.” Berlin, who had been silent until now, took a sip of his drink and grinned. “How about Lisbon? Unexpected. Like her.” The room fell quiet for a moment as everyone considered the suggestion. You looked at Berlin, surprised by the thoughtfulness of his choice.

“Lisbon..” Nairobi said, testing the word. “I like it. It suits her.” Over the next few weeks, you grew closer to the crew. Despite their teasing and larger-than-life personalities, they worked seamlessly together under the Professor’s guidance. One evening, Nairobi found you sitting alone in front of the whiteboard. “Everything okay?”

You hesitated before admitting, “This..this is bigger than anything I’ve ever done. What if I screw it up?” Nairobi placed a hand on your shoulder. “We all feel that way. But we’ve got each other’s backs, okay? You’re not alone.” Late that night, you found the Professor in the study, surrounded by blueprints and diagrams. You hesitated in the doorway before stepping in. “Why did you choose me?” you asked quietly. The Professor looked up, surprised by the question. “Because you’re brilliant. And because I saw something in you..a willingness to challenge the system.” You frowned. “But I’m young and Inexperienced.”

“You’re also adaptable.” he replied. “And resourceful. Those are qualities no amount of experience can replace.” Slowly, you nodded, his words sinking in. For the first time since joining the crew, you felt like you truly belonged.

Exactly four months later, the bank was a scene of chaos. The echoes of screams, hurried footsteps, and the loud clatter of boots filled the marble halls. Tokyo was leading a group of terrified hostages into the main hall, her rifle slung over her shoulder. Beside her, Berlin radiated calm authority as he issued orders to the crew. “Rio, secure the hostages. Nairobi, lock down the printing area.” Berlin’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Denver, check the security personnel. I don’t want any surprises.”

“On it.” Denver replied, moving toward the staff members who had been removed from the security room earlier. Behind the locked doors of the bank manager’s office, your voice crackled through the earpieces. You weren’t physically in the bank but monitored everything through surveillance cameras the crew had hacked. Your calm, steady tone stood in stark contrast to the tense atmosphere.

“Tokyo, you’re pacing too quickly..” you said. “You’re making the hostages nervous.” Tokyo scowled but slowed her steps, muttering under her breath. Berlin, catching her reaction, chuckled quietly. “It’s like having the Professor in our ears. How delightful.”

“I heard that!” you retorted sharply, though there was a hint of amusement in your voice. “And Berlin, fix your posture. You’re less intimidating when you slouch.” Berlin smirked and glanced at the nearest camera. “She’s lucky she’s not in here with us.”

A few miles away, in an unassuming abandoned warehouse, you sat at a desk cluttered with monitors, laptops, and cables. Wearing a headset, your eyes flicked between various camera feeds, one of the hostages in the bank’s main hall, another of Rio working on the vault door, and another of police cars setting up barricades outside.

The Professor stood behind you, arms crossed as he studied the feeds. He was calm, but his fingers twitched slightly against his sleeves, a small sign of his nerves. “How does it look?” he asked quietly. “So far, so good.” you replied. “We’ve got the media narrative under control. I published the fake manifesto this morning, so they’re already painting us as anti-establishment rebels. Public opinion should swing our way by this afternoon.” The Professor nodded, satisfied. “And the police?”

“They’ve set up a perimeter.” you said, pressing a few keys to pull up a live drone feed. “But they’re waiting for someone to take command. I’m guessing that’ll be their negotiator.” As if on cue, a new voice crackled over the police radio you had tapped into. You froze, your eyes narrowing.

“Natasha Romanoff, FBI. I’m taking command.” She stepped out of a sleek black SUV, her expression unreadable. Dressed in a sharp black suit, her red hair tied neatly into a ponytail, she exuded authority. The air buzzed with tension as officers bustled around, setting up barricades, unloading equipment, and securing the area. Natasha surveyed the scene with a practiced eye. Her gaze lingered on the massive front doors of the bank, barricaded from the inside. On nearby rooftops, snipers had taken position, their scopes trained on the windows. A young officer hurried to her side, clipboard in hand. “Agent Romanoff, the perimeter is secure. No one gets in or out without our clearance.”

“Good,” Natasha replied, her tone crisp. “Have we made contact?”

“Not yet. They’ve refused to answer the phone lines.” She nodded and stepped into the command tent. Inside, monitors displayed live drone footage of the bank’s exterior and a floor plan of the building. Natasha studied the images, her mind already working through possible scenarios. The officers in the tent glanced at her cautiously. She had a reputation. Efficient, methodical, relentless. Natasha didn’t tolerate mistakes, and everyone knew it.

“What do we know about them?” she asked, crossing her arms as she addressed the room. “They’re highly organized!” an officer replied. “They took over the bank in under five minutes. No one’s been injured, but they’re heavily armed.”

“Any demands?” She asked. "Not yet. But we found this outside." the officer said, handing Natasha a printed copy of the fake manifesto you had planted earlier. "They claim this is a statement against corruption in the financial system. It’s already all over the news." Natasha scanned the document, her sharp eyes taking in the calculated wording. "They’re trying to sway public opinion to their side.." she murmured. "Clever. That’ll make it harder for us to take an aggressive approach."

She tossed the paper onto the table. "Establish a line of communication with their leader. I want to know who we’re dealing with." Natasha reached for the phone connected to the bank’s central line. She knew this call wouldn’t be about negotiating, it was about gathering information. She needed to figure out who was on the other end, what they wanted, and how far they were willing to go.

Inside the bank, Berlin picked up the ringing phone with a charming smile. "This is Berlin." he said smoothly. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"This is Natasha Romanoff, FBI." she replied. Her voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for pleasantries. "I’d like to speak to the person in charge."

"I’m afraid that won’t be possible right now." Berlin said with amusement. "But I’ll happily take a message." Natasha’s eyes narrowed. "My only concern is the safety of your hostages. That’s my priority."

"Of course it is.." Berlin replied, his smile audible. "And you’ll be pleased to hear they are..so far..perfectly safe." Natasha paused, listening intently to the faint background noises on the line. Muffled voices, the sound of footsteps on marble, and something else, a faint beeping, like an alarm.

"You’re playing a dangerous game." she said finally. "But I’m very good at games." Berlin chuckled softly. "I’m sure you are. But this isn’t chess, Agent Romanoff. This is..theater. And the show has just begun." He hung up before she could respond.

Back at the hideout, you listened to the conversation through the tapped line, your headset firmly in place. Leaning back in your chair, you chewed on your thumbnail, analyzing Natasha’s voice. "She’s sharp.." you murmured. "If we’re not careful, she’ll see right through us." The Professor nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Then we’ll have to stay one step ahead of her. Remember, the goal isn’t just to survive this heist. It’s to make them believe they’re in control, right up until the moment they lose everything."

You glanced at the screen displaying Natasha’s image from a news feed. Her piercing green eyes, the way she moved with calm authority..it was unsettling. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel something else. Admiration, perhaps. Curiosity. "Be careful." the Professor said, noticing your gaze. "She’s not just your opponent. She’s your equal."

The rest of the team was already hours deep into securing the hostages and working on the vault. Berlin’s voice crackled over the comms: "Lisbon, it’s your turn. She wants to speak to the mastermind. Time to give her a show." Adjusting your headset, you took a deep breath. Your nerves were taut, but you masked them with a confident grin. "Understood. Let’s do this."

You activated the line and pressed a button on the soundboard. A calm, distorted male voice filled the air: "This is Lisbon." In the command tent, Natasha picked up the phone. The room fell silent as the officers leaned in to catch every word. Natasha held the receiver to her ear, her expression neutral, but her eyes sharp as razors. "Lisbon." she repeated. "So, you’re the one pulling the strings here."

"Correct." your distorted voice replied. "And you must be Agent Romanoff. I’ve heard quite a bit about you." Natasha ignored the flattery. "If you’ve done your homework, then you know I’m here to ensure your hostages come out alive. That’s my only concern." You pressed a button on the soundboard, triggering a soft, deep laugh. "And here I thought you were here to negotiate."

"That depends." Natasha replied smoothly. "What do you want?" Leaning closer to the microphone, you tapped your fingers on the desk, guiding the conversation. You knew Natasha was trying to size you up, searching for any slip, any weakness, but you weren’t going to make it easy for her.

"What do I want?" Your distorted voice pondered, deliberately stretching the pause. "I want justice. The kind that makes headlines. The kind that shakes the foundations of a broken system." Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. "You’re talking about the economy."

"Very good, Agent Romanoff. You catch on quickly."

"Don’t patronize me." Natasha snapped, her voice tight with tension. "If this is about making a political statement, you’ve already made it. But taking hostages isn’t the way to change the world."

You smiled, pressing another button to play a short, dismissive laugh. "Isn’t it? History would beg to differ."

Natasha’s jaw tightened. "If you think you’re the first person to try this, you’re mistaken. I’ve seen how these situations end, and it’s never in your favor. You can still stop this."

"Stop?" you repeated, genuine amusement creeping into your real voice beneath the distortion. "Agent Romanoff, I didn’t plan this for years just to ‘stop’ now. But I appreciate the offer."

Natasha changed her tactic, her tone softening. "How about this. Give me something in return. A gesture of goodwill. Release a few hostages, and I’ll ensure you get a fair hearing." You hesitated for the briefest moment, not because you were considering it, but because you felt the sincerity in Natasha’s voice. For a fleeting second, the tension felt personal, almost disarming. But then you steadied yourself, pressing another soundboard clip.

The voice came through, cool and calculated, "A generous offer, but unnecessary. I assure you, our hostages are perfectly safe, as long as you follow my instructions."

"And what are those instructions?"

"Patience, Agent Romanoff. All in good time." Natasha leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she studied the voice on the other end. Something felt..off. The rhythm was too perfect, too controlled. It reminded her of an actor reading from a script. She decided to apply pressure.

"You know, you’re remarkably composed for someone running an operation of this scale. Most people would sound different." Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you played another soundboard clip: a soft, measured chuckle. "I’m not ‘most people,’ Agent Romanoff."

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. "No, you’re not. But you know what? I don’t think that’s your real voice. You’re hiding something." Your grin faltered for a fraction of a second before you recovered, quickly playing another soundboard clip. "Believe what you want. It changes nothing."

"Maybe not." Natasha replied, her voice colder. "But you should know one thing about me: I don’t stop until I find the truth. And when I do, you’ll regret underestimating me." You glanced at the Professor, who gave you a small nod of approval. Deciding it was time to end the conversation on your terms, you spoke with finality. "I look forward to it, Agent Romanoff." you said, your real voice still hidden beneath the distortion. "In the meantime, I suggest you focus on keeping the public calm. The more chaos you allow, the less control you’ll have. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?"

Before Natasha could respond, you cut the line. You took off your headset and exhaled deeply, running a hand through your hair. Your heart was still racing, but a hint of pride coursed through you. You had held your ground. The Professor approached you, his expression calm but thoughtful. "Well done." he said. "But you need to be careful. She’s already suspicious."

"She’s sharp.." you admitted, leaning back in your chair. "It almost felt like she could see right through the soundboard."

"She’s testing you." he replied. "She’s looking for cracks in your façade. But she won’t find any as long as you stay focused." You nodded, though your mind lingered on Natasha’s voice. There was something about it..something unsettling yet magnetic. You pushed the thought aside, knowing there was no room for distraction.

In the command tent, Natasha set the phone down and leaned back in her chair. The officers around her whispered among themselves, but she waved them off, her mind already working at full speed. "He’s good." she said aloud, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. "Ma’am?" an officer asked.

"That voice.." Natasha continued, her brow furrowed. "It’s too smooth. Too controlled. Whoever that was, they’re hiding behind a mask. And I’m going to find out who they really are. Bring Hill here. I want her to look into this." She stared at the bank, her green eyes sharp with determination. The game had begun, and Natasha Romanoff was ready to play.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader #dom!natasha x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova

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grimm-writings · 9 months ago

Note

HI ITS BARD ANON I MISSED YOU!!! insane request but what about a situation where the party + kabru + chil’s family orchestrate a date between chil and reader? like setting them up… i think that’d be so cuteeee

for the dancing and the dreaming

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, post-canon spoilers, chilchuck’s wife remains nameless, i love chilchuck's family can you tell

…wc! 1887

…notes! BARD ANON I’M BACK FROM WAR (burnout) !!!! these two requests are similar so i decided to make ‘em a wombo combo!!! enjoy my loves!

The woman gives you a kindly smile as she waves you off, you and her ex leaving the tavern. She sighs and leans back, crossing her arms.

God, Chilchuck is more stupid than she remembered.

How could he possibly miss the affection in your eyes when he called out to you both before you left? Or how you clearly wanted to ask if you can stay with him longer? He’s just going to ignore that and consider it all platonic?

What an idiot. Do I really have to step in for him again? Just like old times, huh…?

The half-foot taps a finger against her cheek in thought. Maybe she can push you to confess? No, you’d probably wave your hands around and insist against having feelings for Chilchuck in the first place. A heavy sigh escapes her.

Looks like she has to do things the old-fashioned way.

Step 1 – Family

The quickest way to alert someone is to see who the people closest to you know. Flertom is rather in-the-know about any gossip. Usually, as a mother, the half-foot really doesn’t want to encourage such things, but for now…

“What’s trendy in dating circles nowadays?” She asks offhandedly, eyeing a bouquet Flertom bought to gift a possible suitor. “Is the man still expected to be the one to initiate everything?”

She could nearly scoff at her own words. Only reason she and Chil got together was pure happenstance. Practically a blur by now. He’d be hopeless at actually trying to start anything with you.

The younger woman hums in curiosity, before stopping to think. “Not really nowadays, no… If you have enough charisma, you can charm any man into taking you out for a drink. Why do you ask, Ma?”

Flertom squints as she watches her mother laugh and shake her head in response. “Oh, I just think your old man might need some… encouragement with a new flame is all.”

Just as she expected, Flertom was immediately on the ball with planning, rushing out to the town in order to visit her sisters and inform them of the operation. She practically commanded her old mother to see if she could look for any clues about Chilchuck’s possible beau. With a knowing smile, she remarks that she’s very happy to pay a visit to Melini.

Step 2 – Friends

“You really think something that elaborate could work?!” Marcille Donato leans forward in her chair. Her eyes shine with a certain kind of joy at the idea of playing Cupid that amuses the matured half-foot significantly.

She nods. “I don’t see anything else coming close to pushing them. Force might be the only way.”

A female tall-man, Falin if recalled correctly, squints and hums, tapping her finger on her chin as she tilts her head. Her brow furrows. “From what I know, Chilchuck seems to be more open, but… I don’t know if he has the courage to be truly vulnerable in front of someone like that.”

“No need to tell me twice,” his ex scoffs.

“Oh!” The king, of all people, seems to have an epiphany. “We could hold some sort of ball, encourage him to invite a plus one. That can work, right Kabru?”

All eyes turn to look at the advisor standing to the side, clearly enjoying the conversation but not wishing to intrude. He startles at the sudden attention, before clearing his throat behind his fist.

“It will take some time to plan, but it could work… You mentioned having three daughters, ma’am, you can take one as a plus-one, and the two will take each other.” He’s calm with his conclusion, which the half-foot woman can definitely respect.

“A banquet of all their favourite foods,” the dwarf Senshi, as food-brained as ever, sighs in daydream.

Kabru takes a step forward. “Though I have to ask,” he enquires, “is it really necessary to call upon all of the king’s advisors and himself for a Cupid scheme?”

Silly boy. He doesn’t yet realise the stakes.

If Chilchuck and you don’t say something soon, then you may stay silent forever. This idea might be the best shot they have.

Step 3 – The Preparation

“What’s even the occasion…?” Chilchuck sighs as he adjusts the sleeves of the formal outfit he’s wearing. He’s definitely unused to something so high-class. Being invited as a guest of honour certainly isn’t doing any favours either.

Not to mention, Laios was stupid enough to not even bestow upon you a guest of honour title! Chilchuck has to go through the means of inviting you as a plus one due to some ‘organisational issues’, as Kabru put it.

What a load of crap.

“I ‘unno!” Puckpatti peeks her head around the corner to look at her father. “Royals just seem to like their balls!”

“This isn’t one of your period romances…” Meijack’s voice rings from the other room too.

You sit with them, talking amongst one another. Flertom’s plus one remains a mystery to you, though she assures you that you’ll meet with her when you get there. You can only assume it’s the girls’ mother but you have no clue why she’s so giggly and secretive about it.

“On the contrary!” Flertom announces. “I think it’s exactly like a period romance. Maybe one of us will be swept into a dance so beguiling, you forget there’s a whole ballroom of people!”

You squeal in surprise when Flertom takes your hands and pulls you out of your chair. You dance together in a fit of giggles. You only barely miss Chilchuck walking out to meet with you all, a fond smile on his face.

Little do you know, he’s thinking about what it would be like if joy like this could be shared in a household with the two of you.

“Come on now, settle. Apparently there’s gonna be a carriage taking us to Melini. I couldn’t fight against the theatrics, according to Marcille…”

“Oh Papa!” Puckpatti sighs blissfully. “We truly are living like nobles now! Maybe you can… ah…”

Both you and Chilchuck spy her eyes darting towards her sisters with unsureness. How strange.

“You can find… someone nice there!”

“No, Patti.” Chilchuck shakes his head with a sigh. “I’m not gonna marry some rich dwarf.”

“You are too cruel, Papa,” Flertom points out with a pout. “No one will want you if you just keep saying no.”

As the three bicker, Meijack spares you a sympathetic glance, and she rolls her eyes. Her sisters hardly know subtlety. Finally she stands up and walks to your side.

“I’m glad you’re here with us,” she says with uncharacteristic softness; she’s similar to her father like that. “Papa has good taste.”

You go red just as much as Chilchuck. For a moment, Flertom and Puckpatti wonder if their less romance-focused sister has some secret charisma she’s been hiding up her sleeve this whole time. It seems to work though, as they chorus their agreements loudly.

“Very good taste!”

“Their formal wear matches yours fashionably well!”

“Just as pretty as Ma too!”

“If not prettier!”

The entire carriage ride to Melini was full of this type of chatter, asking questions about you and Chilchuck’s time together the whole way. A few times you had to clarify that you are only as close as the rest of your old party were close, but were only met with a few smug “mhms” and “sures”.

Chilchuck can only roll his eyes when he gets the chance to comment on it privately with you. “I have no idea what’s up with them.”

“Oh, cheer up!” You laugh softly. “I’m flattered that they like me.”

Chilchuck can’t help but hear your laugh and chuckle along – music to his ears. “...Yeah, I’m glad they like you too.”

“Come on! Ma is here to greet you two!” Flertom’s voice calls out.

The mastermind has been watching you and Chilchuck the whole time you approach. Her expression remains neutral, with the smallest sliver of a smile. Seems like the proximity has been lending itself quite well.

“Well, aren’t you two a pair,” she greets you both. “Ready to take the ball by storm.”

“Your jokes haven’t gotten any better,” Chilchuck replies.

“And you’re still wearing the same shabby suit from sixteen years ago.”

Chilchuck flushes red once again and you can’t help but laugh, patting his shoulder sympathetically as he hooks his arm through yours.

The watching half-foot knowingly grins. Yes, you two are definitely going to take it up a level after tonight.

Step 4 – Profit!

The ball came and went. It goes as typical as the dark-haired half-foot expects. What really is supposed to be a high-class noble event is a mask for foodies, romantics, and those looking for a fun time.

Senshi’s food was as wonderful as promised, and even if this was all done in the name of romance, Flertom and Puckpatti had to be held down from trying to approach the dwarf with lowered eyelids and twirled hair. Chilchuck doesn’t need more heart palpitations than he already did.

She did her best to encourage Chilchuck to drink. She knows better than anyone that his tongue only loosened when he got enough alcohol in him. It hurts just a little, knowing that this is one of the only ways Chilchuck can be open with someone romantically.

The temptation did cross her to ask how Chilchuck views her now, but she stood against it. It’s not the night for that.

By the time the party drew to a close, people were exhausted, drunk, in a food coma, or all of the above. The King had to be dragged over to his quarters, and Marcille had since passed out on Falin’s shoulder, who’s bidding farewell to guests.

The dark-haired half-foot swirls the last of her wine in a glass as she stands outside, making small-talk with the tall-man. It’s not until you stumble out with Chilchuck clinging to the fabric on your hip that she looks up.

“Do you—”

“No need for help!” You reassure her with a grin. “He always seems to get clingy with me when drunk, so I’m kinda used to it at this point!”

Your laughter meets a knowing smile, not knowing exactly what she’s so smug about. “Yes, he seems to really like you.”

“I sure hope he does, considering he’s accepted my request to go on a date with him.”

Falin perks up enough to wake up the elf on her shoulder. “A date?”

The half-foot across from you is stunned into silence. It actually worked. The atmosphere and passion of it all actually egged you both on!

“Congratulations.” You’ve seen more emotion from the dark-haired woman than ever before. Her smile relaxed but her eyes shining, the lines underneath crinkling with happiness. “Treat him well, okay?”

“Of course,” you reply, and you lean forward a little. “Thank you for your help. Kabru couldn’t help but gossip to me.”

You wink and lean up again. Chilchuck at your side whines for your attention and you laugh, walking towards a carriage.

Safe travels were promised, and the dark-haired half-foot turns to the two blonde women.

The elf blinks slowly, red-faced from drink.

“Did we win…?”

The two other women laugh. Stories must be exchanged the next time you all meet – especially on your end of things.

#✮ grimm's fics!#oh man this will be hell to tag #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims imagines #meijack chils #puckpatti chils #flertom chils #chilchuck's wife #yeah that'll do

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reidslovely · 2 years ago

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Something about helping frat!blonde! Peter touch up his roots. Like he calls you and reader must think its for hooking up purposes - then he surprises her w “can you. uh..retouchmyrootsplease” and she’s like “??? 🤨wat” and you just go over to his place and spend time with him, washing his hairr, he making eye contact with reader through the mirror, etc. But he’s still stubborn about his feelings so he’s like “this was a one time thing only don’t let it get to ya head”

sorry if this was jumbled I just had this in my head for a while now

Yes this idea is so so so so so cute. I have written something vaguely similar before but I love it so much I don't care to write it again

please reblog or comment in place of liking/hearting this post 🫶🏼

“Pete?” You questioned picking up your phone, your eyes locked on the clock that read 4:00pm. “It’s far too early for a booty call..what’s up pretty?”

“Ya flatter bashful.” His chesty laugh could be heard on the other end of the phone. It sent your heart doubling in speed, your cheek pressed lovingly into your shoulder.

“You still with me bashful? I need you to do me a favor.”

“So this is a hookup call..you only ask me that if-” You're cut off by him rushing out a string of words. None of which you caught. “Pete..baby. I need you to breathe and say that again.” You laughed softly, already gathering your stuff up to head over to the Theta Tau. Regardless if this was a hookup situation or not you were tired of your homework and Peter always seems to take any type of stress away.

“Can you uh..” There's an awkward cough and sigh. “Retouchmyrootsplease?”

The questions still came out as one word this time around but at least you actually caught what he was saying.

“Sure, Pete.” You tried not to laugh. “Do you have what you need or do we need to run by Sally?”

“No, no I have everything here for you. Thanks for this.”

“Course Pete, anything for you.” You hung up before you could get any type of snarky reply.

Peter’s blond locks were a new addition about three weeks into your situation ship and you absolutely loved them. They flattered his face, and made his little baby deer eyes even more baby deer like. Which made you want to kiss him even more, and made it hard to say no when he’s asking you for another round.

“You’re literally the best for this. Just moved up to like number two in my ranking.”

It was a joke, you were easily number one if not the only girl in Peter’s ranking but you have to play along or else you’ll scare him away.

“Offended, whose number one.”

“May..sorry.” Peter sighs dramatically, leading you up the stairs to his bathroom. Tossing a few nods and hey’s to his brothers walking down the steps.

“Mhm can’t be mad at that.”

Peter laughed sitting on the chair he’d tucked away in the bathroom, pulling off his shirt.

“Awe did you go ahead and set everything up for me?”

“No I was gonna do it myself but that's how we ended up in this scenario in the first place.”

Peter would never admit to it but he had set everything up for you. He’d done it before he even picked up the phone: not that he knew you'd say yes but he could hope.

“Mhm I see.” You hummed running your fingers through Peter’s hair. He grabbed his phone starting his music, looking at you in the mirror as you started sectioning his hair out.

Admittedly the whole time he was locked on you. Every move you made he was locked on you, not wanting to miss a moment. His head lolled back as you ran; you painted the bleach on his roots. Earning soft little ‘stops’ and ‘hold your head up’ from you as he relaxed. Your eyes were fixed on his hair making sure you’re applying everything evenly and correctly. Peter held his phone up in the mirror snapping a quick photo of the two of you. The photo falling amongst the others he’s sneakily taken of you or the both of you that you had no clue about.

“Okay you gotta sit for a while and then I’ll wash it, tone it, all that after.” You said sitting on the toilet lid next to him taking the gloves off, tossing them in the trash can.

“This is nice.”

Peter's comment threw you off, you two only really hung out in the context of having sex or it being mutually beneficial for both. You hated to admit you had more moments like this.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm no pressure, at least not for you. I still gotta make jokes and keep you entertained.”

“Tragic.” You tsked resting your arm on the sink hand to head as your free hand started a 30 minute timer.

“Come on, we have enough time to watch some of that Hulu cooking show you like.” Peter stood taking your hand in his walking to his room. You flopped down on Pete’s bed watching him sitting next to you. “Careful you’ll get bleach on your..”

“No no, I'm good sitting up.”

You nodded and laid your head on his lap watching The Bear, Pete’s fingers combing through your hair switching between watching the TV and you.

Pete’s head was tilted back in the sink, a towel under his neck for comfort. “Stop looking down my shirt, Parker.”

“I’m not…I’m not.” He lied, turning his eyes up to look at you as you shampooed after toning his hair. “Do I look fabulous?”

“Oh absolutely.” You laughed wrapping his hair up in a towel helping him sit up. Ruffling the towel through his hair you laughed watching it sticking up every which way. You blow dried it for him smiling and singing under your breath as you fixed his hair perfectly.

“How do you feel Parker?”

“Amazing..I look great thanks bashful.” He says turning around, capturing your hips in his hands. “Let's get dinner, and then we can come back here.”

“I hate sex after dinner.”

“No, no we come back here and finish the show.”

“Oh I get to come back to the Theta house? And not have sex?” You fake a gasp of shock.

“I know it’s a rare occurrence. This is a one time thing though, don’t let it get to ya head.” Pete taunts, hand rubbing your side grabbing his wallet off his dresser.

“Oh baby it has.”

Peter knew and even in his playful disdain and stubborn personality you were slowly craving a spot out in his chest and making a home in it, and at this point he had no say in it.

___________

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @moonyslove78 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter parker #bambi writes #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter #tasm peter smut #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter fluff #andrew peter parker #tasm peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #frat!peter

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daughterofapollo-official · 2 months ago

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Leo Valdez Fan theory.

OK, I have two really strong, but really dark head cannons about Leo Valdez.

1) he’s got wrapped up in crimes really really in life

2) he’s anorexic.

First, I want to establish that anorexia isn’t necessarily the need to be as skinny as possible.

Can develop and form at age for multitude of reasons the most popular being: constant needed to lose weight, strong need of control, or self harm/punishment.

I feel like Leo is either need for control or the need for self punishment.

I have a lot of thoughts about this, but in order to do this correctly, I wanted to start with the very first appearance Leo has in the Percy Jackson universe.

His very first line is a response to Jason saying “I don’t belong here.”

Stating “you’re right! We’ve all been framed. I didn’t run away six times and Piper didn’t steel convertible.”

How is running away even comparable to stealing a car?

This makes me believe that Leo did something far worse than just run away either he did something and that’s why he ran away or he ran away to do something.

Or he ran away and did something.

But comparing running away a few times and stealing a car and then giving them the exact same consequence scenes unreasonable to me I think Leo probably did something a lot darker but because this is a kids book it’s not mentioned.

Shortly after being introduced to Leo in the form of this first statement, Jason’s in her monologue goes on to describe Leo as this mischievous, looking boy that the second he looked at him and looked in his eyes. He could tell that he couldn’t trust him with matches and sharp objects.

No one could see this as for shadowing for Leo’s godly parent, being the god of forge and fire.

But I see this as a sign that despite his physique Leo Valdez has this aura of danger.

“crash course for the amnesiac: we go to the wilderness school. Which means we’re bad kids. Your family, or the court, or whoever. Decided you were to much trouble so they sent you off to this lovely prison. Sorry, boarding school.”

The words in the statement from Leo Valdez in chapter 1, give us a valuable clues on the type of environment. Leo Piper and Jason are inside.

As if the further emphasize the point that these kids have committed crimes, Jason’s inter monologue says that none of these kids look like a “hard criminals” and he wonders what they could have done to be “sentenced to school for delinquents.”

And again, these are actual lines from the book Leo Valdez canonically is classified legally as a delinquent.

And knowing Leo does not have any family it’s clear that Leo received this as a sentence from a courtroom.

As he himself stated, as we just saw you can be sent to this place not just by parents who think you need a strict or lifestyle, but by the court.

“ he had survived and tough neighborhoods, tough schools, touch foster homes, by using his wits, he was the class clown, the court jester. Because he learned early that if you crack jokes and pretend not to be scared you usually didn’t get beat up. Even the baddest, gangster kids will tolerate you. Keep you around for laughs.”

This quote from the novel also is a clear clue that Leo a dark skinned kid in the United States, grew up, hanging out with delinquents hanging out with kids that were in gangs he literally said gangsters.

Which means he probably got into school fight, street fights, and substance use.

Because that’s what teenagers do in those social groups.

Crimes canonically mentioned that Leo committed:

• truancy; this is when so, and skip school so much that it becomes legal issue.

Ask yourself in United States, with xenophobia and racism, if a Latino 11 to 14 year old boy, who doesn’t have parental supervision is skipping school. What do you think he’s doing?

It’s only mentioned that he committed truancy, which isn’t it hard crime but knowing reality, it’s very probable that Leo has experimented within this timeframe within running away and being arrested for truancy he also committed underage use of substances.

So let’s take a break from the crime dive. Because I’m pretty sure for the rest of Leo’s appearances in the universe it’s not hinted out or mentioned anymore. I think that’s all I have to say, but I might revisit this later.

This is the first inkling of anorexia:

As I mentioned in the beginning of this post anorexia can manifest at any point of someone’s life for a multitude of reasons.

It is usually during development either late childhood to any point in adolescence.

Although it can form adulthood, it’s more common for it to start in developmental stages.

Anorexia is a cycle and for whatever reason you start starving yourself this little bit and then you lose your appetite and your stomach shrinks and you feel less hunger so you eat less and then you struggle to eat a healthy amount.

You may be thinking there’s no way Leo is anorexic because he is self-conscious of how skinny he is.

True.

But I don’t think him himself because he wants to be skinny. I think he does it for one of two reasons and maybe it’s a mix of both maybe they’re both correct or maybe it’s just just one I don’t know.

1- control.

2- punishment.

In chapter 5, we have a chapter from the point of view of Leos for the very first time, and this is when we first learned about how Leo’s mom died he died tragically in the housefire that he started, and even as a 15 year-old, he blames himself, and he sees himself as the person responsible for his mother’s death.

His mother died when he was eight years old obvious this is going to have severe psychological trauma on him, I believe that Leo stopped eating.

Maybe at first he just didn’t wanna eat anything because he was in grief and he couldn’t eat, maybe it was because he didn’t eat his mom didn’t cook Mexican culture love cooking and he just lost the person. He loved the most in life and he couldn’t imagine eating.

But I think he stopped eating as a way to punish himself for killing his mother, and then it spiraled and snowball and got out of control to the point where he’s severely underweight as a fifteen year old.

As for control, we know that he didn’t have control over where he lived, or who took care of him or what school he went too.

His life was flipped upside down as it went into the foster system and he felt powerless. He felt like he had no control and one way of his for dealing with that was running away, but I also feel like he just wouldn’t eat because if maybe if he could control his weight and he can control what he eats then at least he had control over one thing in his life. He didn’t have control over anything else, but at least he had control over what he ate and then that’s snow bolt into the point he got underweight as a teenager.

It’s one of these reasons or a mix of both of these reasons.

I think Leo is somewhat muscular.

He’s always lift up heavy pieces of metal he uses hammers. He knows how to forage. This requires a lot of muscle mass in the arm and abdomen at least but I feel like the reason he gives the scrawny description is because he doesn’t eat enough.

Even at the end of the war with the Giants, eat enough and he was just like oh he doesn’t work out then he would have a lot more muscle mass and he would not be seen as scrawny as we seen with Percy was seen as little kid in the beginning and now he’s very physically muscular because of the war he went through, but that didn’t happen with Leo because I think he’s already muscular. He just never eats therefore he’s not healthy looking.

Chapter 30, Yet another example of Leo allowing himself to be put at the risk of death without hesitation.

Man for Jason to take Piper and fly away from Festus as the dragon Falls, Leo would stay on his dragon and try to fix it. Then he said he couldn’t fix it he would die.

The first time I read this I didn’t think much of it didn’t even remember this thing happened because it seems like just natural reaction to trying to save the ship sacrifice yourself, knowing how the giant war ends and he did kill himself. I think it’s a reasonable assumption that just does not have enough regards for personal safety and probably not taking care of himself.

During the lost hero indicated that part of the reason how Piper Leo invasion survive the quest was that whenever they were hungry, Leo would cook for them.

But did anyone other than me notice that hyper had to ask for Leo to cook every single single time because he never remembered he was never hungry and he would only eat if they were hungry if they told him they were hungry and asked him to cook.

I didn’t find the scene again because I was only reading chapters in Leo’s point of view, but I think it’s in Pipers and this for me the first time I read it was like the first indication that Leo doesn’t have a healthy relationship with food.

Mark of Athena.

The very first time Leo met Hazel first thing he noticed was that she paid a lot of attention to him. And he didn’t like it you can argue that this is because he was so used to not be center of attention, but we all know that Leo craves attention so that wouldn’t make sense. He says that the reason he feels uncomfortable is that she was staring at him through looking at his body, and it made him feel self-conscious.

House of Hades

“ you haven’t eaten in a few days.” Calypso told Leo. And Leo didn’t even notice.

Wikipedia Page.

I read the entire page. Yes. The whole thing.

I never do that.

But I wanted to see if there was any other extra evidence for my theory.

In the early life section there’s a paragraph about the day of the dead, where Leo’s aunt and his cousin who would bully him went to the cemetery. To clean their relatives graves and bring offerings.

I found this quote “Rosa would force him to stay for the picnic, as if eating with dead people would fix his appetite.”

So his family was aware he wasn’t eating.

“Leo woke up in an ambulance, and the paramedic was kind to him, saying that the warehouse had burned down and his mom hadn't made it out. Leo felt hollow, and realized he had lost control like his mom had warned him about.“

This supports my theory that Leo feels a lack of control in his life, which is why he’d result to controlling his food intake.

“He thought her death was his fault” this quote supports my second theory of what triggered his anorexia. Self punishment. In his very core. He believes he was responsible for the person he loved most in life being dead.

“The police wondered what kind of child would've started a fire. His neighbors in the apartment complex gossiped about him, saying they always knew something was wrong with him.” So already at 8 years old he called the attention of the cops and his community as dangerous. And once you’re labeled as dangerous, and dark skinned… there’s only a matter of time until you do and up being caught in the wrong groups.

Something we know from the books, at Leo’s mention of gangs and a school for delinquents… he did exactly that.

“He even had an abusive foster mom, Teresa.” Another common trigger for eating disordered behavior, abusive parental figures. Usually parental figures can say very nasty comments about the child’s body psychologically parents tend to reflect their insecurities and their life and their body onto the bodies of their children. This is very common with biological kids, but I assume it could be possible for a foster child as well.

Your abusive foster parent also means he probably had a strong distrust between him and the foster mom.

Meaning, if he was caught up in a gang while living with her, you would not tell her he could not confide in her.

Having an Abusive mother figure, hold onto the money issues he had from his mother dying. This strongly explains why he stayed in a relationship with fucking calypso!!!

That woman treated him like every second of the relationship and he was fine with it because she was an older woman, and he was treated like shit by women.

Side tangent that does not have to do with anorexia or his crime history.

Did anyone else notice how every single girl Leo’s tempo was much older than him in the entire books series?

• Hazel

• the ice goddess

• calypso

• Thalia

Two out of four of those were mean to him!! Yes mommy issues really bad mommy issues that turned into a mommy kink. He even calls Calypso Mamacita!!!

And he will stay in an abusive relationship as long as he has an older woman who he is as attractive and more dominant

Another paragraph I found was full of little nuggets I found:

“Maenads from Demigod Diaries, indicating that Leo is quite good-looking despite not finding himself attractive” so just further proof that Leo is a pretty boy but has dysmorphia and low self esteem. “Leo has been called 'cute in a scrawny way' by nymphs”

“a diminutive stature with a slim and relatively scrawny build.” Of course we all remember Leo is skinny, hell that’s what this whole theory is about. But I want to point out the word Relatively. Which reminds me of my assumption that since Leo works with heavy metal he has muscle definition but not enough body fat, making him skinny.

“Leo wears a pair of Georgina's overalls during her absence, so they are probably around the same size.”

Oh that probably doesn’t seem like a big deal to you— GEORGINA IS AN EIGHT YEAF OLD LITTLE GIRL AND HE IS A SIXTEEN YEAF OLD BOY!!!!

They should not be the same size!!!!

“He is said to be sensitive about his size and occasionally makes self-deprecating jokes about it.” Dysmorphia, I’ve been telling you guys over and over! He has dysmorphia.

“Superhuman Strength : Being a demigod, Leo is stronger than a regular mortal. However, Leo has many times labeled himself as weak because of his small stature, and is definitely the weakest male demigod of the Seven, indicating that Leo is pretty weak for a demigod. Leo also is extremely skinny and short and doesn't look very strong. However, Leo has been shown to be quite a bit stronger than he looks as he used two silver-tipped blacksmith hammers to smash full-grown monsters that got in his way”

So even though logic would suggest the opposite Leo always thinks of himself, of his body negatively.

There’s so many other examples but I’m tired.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #greek mythology #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #pjo series #pjo #ancient greek #leonidas valdez #leo valdez

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blackleatherjacketz · 8 months ago

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Shadow and Sin: Chapter 9

Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Klaus pleads his case as you wrestle with guilt, while Elijah attempts to ease your mind the old fashioned way.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, Love Triangle, Infidelity, Klaus Pinning You Against the Wall, Shoving, Neck Kissing, Licking, Elijah Undressing You, Kissing, Massage, Nipple Play, Vaginal Fingering, Lying, Manipulation, Compulsion, Blood, Sweat, Tears, ANGST

Word Count: 3.2k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

His brother? Elijah? Did you really just hear him correctly? No. No, that can’t possibly be true. They look nothing alike! And can vampires even BE brothers, especially if Klaus is over a thousand years old, like he said? Maybe it’s just some weird figure of speech and not an actual term. Or maybe it’s just part of the vampire lore that only the elder insiders know about? You can’t…no… this can’t be happening! Either way, you can’t deny that you’re in deep trouble here. It’s only a matter of time before you get found out, and you can’t imagine that either of them will take it very well.

Time to put that guard up.

“Well, half brother, if you want to get into the specifics, but that’s a story for another time, love.” Klaus’ blonde lashes flutter across your cheek as he kisses the skin of your chin and jawline while you tremble with guilt. He doesn’t seem to be worried about the idea of Elijah right now, so you welcome his continued seduction with a sigh of relief as it helps throw him off the scent. You force a smile as he slowly releases the vice-like grip he has on your wrists only to ghost his hands down your forearms, forcing you to shiver.

“Oh, really?” you whisper as your bloodstream plays host to an increased supply of oxytocin, chemically connecting your body to his no matter how badly your brain wants them to separate. “So do you have, like a whole family of vampire siblings living under one roof?” You jest, only to be met by his thumbs playfully digging into your axilla before squeezing their way down your sides.

“Maybe I do, but it looks like we both have surprise siblings that neither of us knew about until today. It really begs the question though, are there any other secrets that you’re hiding from me, hmm? A husband, a wife, a child?” His mouth moves down to your neck as you shake your head in response, licking the path of your pulse as it continues to throb against his tongue.

“Klaus,” you groan, trying to focus solely on the mental image of your brother instead of Elijah rocking his hips into you, those gorgeously lust-blown eyes of his nearly blacking out completely. That’s something you could never forget, but you shove it into the back of your mind for the time being, anyways. “Klaus, we can’t do this, I’m at work!”

“Oh don’t worry, love. I’ve compelled everyone on this floor to forget that I came here tonight, to forget that you ever left your post.” He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye with a reassuring wink.

“Compelled?” You push your palm against his chest to put some distance between you, secretly hating yourself for cutting off that rush of hormones that set your skin on fire. “What do you mean, compelled?” You need more of an explanation than just the context clues he’s barely giving you.

“Well, if you must know, it’s one of the many gifts that comes with immortality; a sure fire way to get others to do what we want, to cover our tracks.” His hands rest gently against your hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin beneath your scrubs as he explains himself.

“Like mind control?” You had dated some seriously manipulative men in your day, but this really takes the cake. If he can really do that, can they all do it? Can Elijah?

“Think of it more as… the power of persuasion. I could compel your boss to give you a raise right now, Marjorie to give back your favorite pen that she stole, or your patients to stay in bed. But instead I chose to compel every last one of my men to protect you, to keep you safe from any harm that may come your way. You won’t have to worry about any more attacks in the quarter, love, you or your brother.”

Damn. Well, that’s a relief, you guess.

“Wait, have you ever compelled me before?” Your logic finally kicks back in, trying it’s best not to get led astray by his silver tongue and good looks, which isn’t as easy as it sounds.

He pauses and takes a breath, smirking while he chooses his next words very carefully. “The thing I love most about you is that I’ve never felt the need to compel you before.” He weaves his web of words with such eloquent precision, it’s almost impossible to tell if there’s any bit of truth in them. “I’ve compelled people in the past to lie, cheat and steal for me, even to kill for me if the occasion calls for it, but in the end it’s just not as fun as earning their loyalty the old fashioned way.

“Compelling you to act any differently, to be anybody else would just be too boring, and you’re anything but boring, love. You find death just as beautiful and vibrant as I do. It’s apparent in your art and your choice to work here as your patients tiptoe that flimsy tightrope between life and death. You get off on the power you hold over it, the power you have to stop it, to prolong it. In the end, you and I aren’t that different after all.” He strokes your hair affectionately, looking longingly into your eyes as he waits for you to respond.

“You think so?” You reply dumbly as if you’re blown away by his words, trying to really sell the idea of being on board with his ethics of compelling people against their will.

“I left you a note at the nurse’s station next to a cup of chicory coffee from your favorite cafe. Meet me at that address tomorrow night, then we can really begin to flesh out our epic masterpiece… but only if you want to.”

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Klaus’ words haunt you well into your much needed shower after work as you try to wash his scent out of your hair and off of your skin. You scrub the wash cloth over your body more times than you care to admit, letting the soap lather up to a ridiculous level before rinsing off in the steaming stream of water. Once you finally reach the level of cleanliness that you desire, you step out of the shower and dry your hair, switching the towel around before wrapping it around your body.

You rotate your scrubs over from the washer to the dryer, making sure to eradicate any of Klaus’ scent from them as well, hoping that Elijah won’t catch on to your surprise visitor at work. You’re sure that he would take the news better than Klaus would, but there’s no telling how merciful a ruthless vampire like him could react when he’s betrayed, no matter how refined he seems so far.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Elijah’s voice is just above a whisper as he enters your apartment through the balcony, your purple curtains surrounding him in the breeze of dawn, staging him to look like your beloved phantom. His suit is littered with streaks of crimson, the truth about his nature staring you right in the face as he slowly takes a step toward you with an outstretched hand.

Perfect timing, as always.

“I just had a really rough day at work.” You mutter, letting your hand instinctively slip inside his fingers as he draws you near. You aren’t necessarily lying to him, but you can’t bear to tell him the whole truth yet either. “That’s all.”

Had he been with Klaus earlier tonight? Had they killed someone together? Compelled them to stay calm, not to scream or run away before they drank their blood until there was nothing left? Had they done it so many times in their endless lives together that they don’t even register it as something bad anymore? How could someone so calm and considerate like Elijah be related to someone so fiercely aggressive as Klaus? Even worse, how could someone like you who claims to be such a good person be attracted to both of them despite it all?

The reality of your situation slowly begins to set in now that you’re free of Klaus’ pheromones, the brutal truth of what you have to do now more obvious than ever. You have to leave. It’s the only logical course of action. If you stay and choose Klaus, you’ll have to deal with seeing Elijah every day, and you’ll be heartbroken as you keep that secret between you… if he’s even kind enough to keep it. If you stay and choose Elijah, you can only imagine what maniacally violent punishment Klaus might dole out to you in retaliation… and to his brother. And if you stay and choose neither of them, well… the odds just aren’t really in your favor, are they?

Damn your libido!

“Are you alright?” Elijah asks softly, placing a single chaste kiss on the nape of your neck as his other hand holds onto your waist, calming your nerves somehow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I umm…” You try to disguise the weight of your dilemma as best you can, all while telling him something along the lines of the truth. “This patient of mine, she doesn’t know how much time she has left. She thought it was just a simple stomach ache, maybe a food allergy or a survivable chronic illness like Crohn’s, but now they’re testing her for something more serious, for something fatal.”

“I’m so sorry.” His free hand undoes the loose knot of your towel, setting your naked body free as he sends the terry cloth falling silently to the floor. “She must be terrified.”

“She is,” you admit, relishing in the comfort of his touch as he navigates his palms over your breasts and belly as if they’re precious jewels to be treasured. “But the choices she’s made up until now can’t be taken back, can’t be erased no matter how hard she wishes they could be.”

Elijah’s lips part as he takes you in, his features softening before shrugging out of his jacket and tie. “Even those of us who live forever wish we could turn back time, that we could take back certain decisions.” He sets his clothes on the back of a chair and unbuttons his collar. “Your job has to be filled with people who are shrouded in regret.”

“It is.” You help him unbutton the rest of his shirt, recognizing that this may be the very last time he holds you in his arms before the truth comes out, before it’s all over. That bittersweet realization fills your eyes with tears that aren’t quite heavy enough to fall onto your cheeks as you look down at his navel before pulling his perfectly pressed shirt off his torso.

Good God, you’re going to miss this. You’re going to miss him.

Elijah takes your hand as his shirt falls to the floor next to your towel and guides you over to the couch, setting you in between his legs with his chest against your back. “And what are your patient’s options? What can she do?” He kisses his questions between your shoulder blades as his fingers massage your aching muscles, releasing the tension in your body the way that only he can. You swear that one of his immortal gifts is the strength in his magical fingers, and you can already imagine how many tears you’ll cry the next few nights in your bed without them. But for now, you’ve got to put on a brave face.

“She could make a drastic life change that might give her a sliver of a chance at survival.” You blink your tears into your lashes before closing your eyes as he continues to knead his thumbs against your skin, replacing your sorrow with a deep somatic pleasure. “But she wonders if it’s too late, if she’s in too deep to even make any kind of a difference.”

“That sounds very bleak, little Lotte.” He rubs his hands over your shoulders and up the back of your neck, collecting your hair at the top of your head to better massage your scalp as you languidly drop your chin to your chest. He grins as your rapid breathing eventually slows to a cool, measured rhythm with each pass of his fingers, the pressure slowly increasing before his hands finally venture down toward the peaks and valleys of your chest.

“I know, I feel terrible.” You mumble as he pinches your nipples, twisting them hard enough for your muscles to tighten back up, ruining all the work that he’d just done to get you relaxed. You lean back against him with a needy moan, your head resting on his shoulder as you feel his heart beating faster, his own arousal grows against the expensive fabric of his pants.

“Why don’t you let me take your mind off of it for a while?” His hand travels down your stomach as he whispers into your ear, sending tingling waves of warmth up your spine as it wastes no time in settling in between your thighs. He kisses your lips with a smile as he feels your body writhe against his, urging him to continue as his fingers take the hint and eagerly glide in between your dripping wet folds, building those waves even taller than before.

“Mmm hmm,” you moan your stuttered approval, suspending your fear for one more night as you practically fall limp in his arms. “I think I’ll let you do that.”

————————

You wake the next morning without him next to you, without his arms to wrap around you with a sleepy groan that you’ve almost gotten used to, without his chin nuzzling into the nape of your neck, pleading for five more minutes in bed with you. Those five minutes almost always turned into ten more of him thrusting inside you, working each and every muscle awake the old fashioned way as sweat dripped down his chest and melted between your thighs and his hips. But not today.

Today starts with you reluctantly opening your eyes, reaching over to the empty spot on your bed that he’d recently filled as his smoky scent lingers on your sheets and pillowcase. You inhale his aroma one last time before forcing yourself upright, greeted at least by a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen and a note next to it saying that he has business to tend to today. You pick it up and sigh with a sad smile, wishing you were awake enough to watch him walk out your door one last time, but decide that it’s all for the best, and get dressed for the day with a heavy heart.

After waiting a few painstaking hours in a cafe down the street for your phone to finally get fixed, you decide to drop by your brother’s place to see how he’s doing, holding your breath in anticipation as you wait for him to open the door after you knock three times.

“Hey loser, what’s up?” Austin seems rather surprised to see you, his expression more tired and worn than usual.

“Oh, thank God!” You wrap your arms around your brother as if your memory of being concerned for his life suddenly returns just by seeing his face. That’s funny, you don’t remember being worried about what happened to him after the night of the attack, but that doesn’t really make any sense, now does it? “I’m so glad you’re okay! I didn’t know what happened to you after…”

“Of course I’m okay, and what are you talking about?” He looks you up and down like you’ve lost your mind, like you have lobsters crawling out of your ears. “And you usually call first before you come over, are you sure everything’s alright?”

“No!” You pause, studying his features to see if he’s attempting to play some kind of prank on you or something. How could he not remember? “My phone got shattered the other night, remember? I just got it fixed.” You barge into his apartment like you own the place, shocked that he even has to ask you about it. Was he feeling alright? Were you?

He continues to stare at you as you wander aimlessly around his living area, completely bewildered.

“You mean to tell me that yours is fine? That your phone survived the attack without even a crack, a dent, nothing?! They roughed both of us up pretty bad that night, I can’t believe you don’t even have a scratch on you.”

“Doing what? And you should talk, you don’t have any marks on you, either, sis.” He seems genuinely confused as he hurriedly shuts the door behind you and locks it behind you. “Look, is everything alright? Did you hit your head or something? Are you talking about the night that we had dinner together? When you ran into your buddy Elijah and I had to walk the rest of the way home by myself?”

“Yes!” You nod, folding your arms across your chest. Now you’re getting somewhere.

He rolls his eyes. “You were supposed to be my designated walker that night, by the way.” He walks over to the couch and plops down with a loud, disappointed sigh, a sound you know all too well. “Thanks for nothing, I guess. I hope you at least got laid, or some free drinks. That guy reeks of money.”

Holy shit, Elijah compelled him to forget everything about the attack that night. It really does work. Fuck, you’re in trouble!

You sit down on the couch next to your brother, looking him deep in the eye. “You really don’t remember anything else about that night, do you?”

“No.” He sits up straight and looks at you solemnly, placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “Sis, what the fuck is going on? You’re scaring me.”

You consider telling him the truth about everything you’ve been through these past few weeks, about Elijah and Klaus, about vampires and witches, but all the sudden you see the benefit of compulsion. You see that wiping someone’s memory of an event or a person isn’t always necessarily a bad thing. It can keep your brother safe and in the dark while the creatures of the night lurk around the corners of the city feasting on the innocent while he remains none the wiser. Maybe it’s better if you leave him like this, to continue on believing only in the things that he can explain with laws and logic.

“Maybe it was just a bad dream.” You whisper softly, looking down at your feet before glancing back up at him. “Sometimes they just seem so real, you know?” You bite your lower lip as a mixture of guilt and futility washes over you, almost triggering those tears to come back with a vengeance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” You take a deep breath and ruffle his hair before standing up from the couch, realizing that you’re on your own with this from here on out. It’s probably better to keep him out of the mess you’ve created for yourself. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Alright, but… don’t be a stranger, okay? And if you need anything, anything real, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I promise.” You hug him before seeing yourself out, walking down the street toward the bus station before everything goes black.

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Tags: @hcqwxrtss123 @hayleym1234 @derangedangel @spnaquakindgdom @natalie668 @arbesa-mind

#klaus mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson smut #nikalus mikaelson #joseph morgan #daniel gillies

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anistarrose · 6 months ago

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the most interesting tension in any analysis of The Book of Bill, in my opinion, is the pendulum between "Bill is explicitly trying to manipulate us, we can't trust a word he says," and "with a few notable exceptions, most of which relied on the victims not knowing who they were dealing with, Bill is constantly failing onscreen at manipulating people. he's actually bad at this <3"

(or, rather: it's not that he's not a threat, but there's a certain level of 4D chess puppet master behavior that he's simply not capable of. it's not that any victim was dumb for being tricked by him — if he correctly identifies an insecurity, he can absolutely run with that long enough to ruin lives. but it gets so interesting when, say, Bill's narration (unreliable source) has subtext that a character like the Axolotl (tentatively probably reliable source) corroborates explicitly. say, all the signs in the book pointing to Bill's denial and guilt, and the Axolotl explicitly declaring that Bill misses his home and lies about being happy. do we believe that Bill is skilled enough, or has enough faith in the reader's intelligence, to plant subtextual clues to that guilt to make us sympathize with him? well, I don't think that's an inherently incorrect reading — but in light of corroboration from the Axolotl, I think it's at least as likely that Bill is just floundering, and the truthful details he normally suppresses about his backstory are starting to leak out.)

#gravity falls #bill cipher #the book of bill #gravity falls meta #gf spoilers #the book of bill spoilers

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webbluvrsugar · 2 months ago

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through and through. S.R fanfiction. CHAPTER ONE.

➠ fanfic masterlist ৎ୭

content warning: angst, lowkey mean Spencer, female reader, no use of y/n.

You knew that no matter how much Hotch begged for your help on a case, coming back was a mistake.

You figured it out when you’ve just walked into the BAU and Spencer’s eyes met yours, a flick of disappointment and hurt was pretty evident in the brunette’s eyes and honestly, you wanted to quit that mission right there, you wanted to leave and tell Hotch that you wouldn’t be able to do it — but that would’ve made you even more of a coward than you already are.

You didn’t need any introductions to team, they already knew who you were, the point was.. why were you here? That’s what Spencer asked himself. Were you here to work on a case, would you be gone after? Were you here to you with his heart just to leave to another state entirely? Again?

Whatever it was, he didn’t want to know, in fact, he didn’t want anything to do with you from the moment you walked in that room, he even gave up on his usual cup of coffee because you two were not about to have this conversation, you were not just going to come back here after all those months with no contact and then act like nothing happened, that was not happening because it did, something did happen and he suddenly feels like a fool for leaving all those voicemails when you came to the BAU with just a phone call from Hotch.

Turns out you didn’t change your number like he thought.

It’s clear why Hotch wanted you back on the team, you’ve always been a great addition to it and, with a harder case in hands, he should’ve expected it. He just didn’t think that you returning back would affect him so much, he can’t think, he can’t do his own job as profiler correctly because all he can think about is you — and maybe that is exactly why you two should’ve never gotten with each other, you’d end up hurting yourself or the team. Foolish as it seems, he still hoped it was different.

And now, as you investigate the house of another missing girl, he’s trying hard to avoid you, but you don’t make it easier for him.

You approach him slowly at first, pretending to look for clues, that is until, you actually talk to him. “Spencer, I —“ you try to speak, instead of running away this time, he interrupts you.

“You found a new lead?” He asks, you shake your head.

“No I just wanted to..”

“Then we don’t need to talk at all.” He tries not to come off as rude, but he does.

You should stay quiet and accept it that he doesn’t want to talk now and won’t want to talk soon but that voice in your head… “Spencer, I’m trying to explain, I want to apologise to you.”

You could’ve sworn he saw red from the harshness he closed the girl’s drawer. “I don’t want any apologies from you, this is not the time nor the place for you to start amends with people you lost — a little girl is missing and we need to focus on that.” He scrolls through the bottom drawers now. “And don’t talk to me about what you wish you had done because it’s not what you did.”

To an extent, his words are fair, but the fairness of them still doesn’t help to ease the pain you felt when he spoke like that to you, because it’s not the Spencer you know. It’s the Spencer you’ve seen talking to an unsub — because that’s what you feel like, he’s talking and treating you like you’re some kind of perp and.. that’s not the Spencer you know, it will always be the Spencer you love but not the one you know.

And it hurts to see that he doesn’t even want to look and you when you leave the girl’s house and meet back with team.

Sure, you have a new lead now but.. you’re forced to deal with a broken heart.

You wonder if this is what he felt when you left.

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jadewritesficshere · 3 months ago

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Eddie x fem!reader (reader wears lingerie, no other descriptions of reader given except mentioning hitting that spot just right)

Contents: lingerie, both are a lil pervy tbh, humiliation, crying, praise kink, sub!Eddie, this is literally just horny ramblings

18+ only

It wasn't every day you came back to your house and your best friend had broken in. Maybe, every other week at best.

Usually, Eddie would be high eating your snacks (you were thinking about getting a lock for the cabinets). Or he would be watching whatever show you recorded and tease you about spoiling it (you threatened to use the VHS to beat him over the head and strangle him with the VHS ribbon if he did).

But, you had no clue Eddie was even in your house today. His van wasn't parked in your driveway when you came home. His shoes weren't in a haphazard pile at the front door. You had 0 clue he was there.

Not until you heard a thump coming from your bedroom. Which, your first thought went to the knickknacks you had that someone could be stealing (they wouldn't cause to a normal person it was junk but to you they were memories).

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen (you weren't gonna die without a fight, besides you learned a thing or two from the horror movies Eddie made you watch). You quietly pushed your bedroom door open and-

Shit.

Eddie was standing in your room in front of your mirror. Miles of pale skin just on display, scattered with contrasting dark tattoos he had. Nothing on, save for your lilac lingerie.

The palest purple lace bra, you can see from the back isn't even clipped correctly, missing the hook entirely. But the color is striking on Eddie. The lace thong cuts high on Eddie's ass, and you try not to gawk at the little black heart tattooed on his cheek. Eddie's scars seem softer amongst the lace.

How often did Eddie do this? Come over and put on your lingerie? Stand in front of the mirror and rub his fingers over his one hardened nipple. You couldn't see from where you were, but you knew his cock was hard. He'd be leaking all over your underwear, marking them.

Eddie lets out a little moan and it ignites a fire in your gut. You lick you lips as you watch Eddie, which maybe makes you a pervert but really it is your house and he is wearing your clothes so if anyone is-

Fuck why is it so hot?

"So-" you clear your throat. Eddie let's out a screech (that you are pretty sure ruined your eardrums) as he whirls around. He tries to cover himself with his arms, curls in on himself. And Holy cow he is hard.

He is big, so big, the tip just peeking out of the waistband of the panties. You can see the pearly translucent precum already dripping onto the underwear.

"I- fuck, I'm aha listen I can exp- i can explain!" Eddie fumbles over his words. You blink a few times tearing your eyes away from his massive dick (oh it would feel so good it would hit every spot just right).

Eddie's face is red, tears welling up in his eyes. "Oh Baby, no," you rush over, pausing when Eddie flinches. You gently put a hand out on Eddie's shoulder, drawing him into a hug, " It's- it's okay. Please don't cry." "Don't hate me." You gasp in shock, pulling back to look in his eyes," I could never!"

Eddie's eyes are wet, filled with unshed tears. His nose is turning a bit red, from embarrassment, shame, or sadness you can't tell. But his cheeks are such a pretty pink you think it'd look nice elsewhere on his pale skin.

Eddie hides his face with his hair, shuffling his feet a bit. "So..." you pause unsure how to ask it politely so you just go for it," I can see this is a kink thing...but like, what kind?"

Eddie shrugs," Wanted to feel pretty..." You frown," You are pretty Eddie." Eddie shakes his head and gestures to his abdomen," Not with these."

Eddie really should not be drawing your eyes any further south then his face. Cause your pulse kicks up and the fire inside you lights back up your spine. You can't help but notice his dick is still hard as a rock.

"You are too pretty." "Not really." "Yes!" Not-" You shove Eddie lightly, causing him to stumble back and fall onto the bed. Eddie's eyes widen in shock as he peers up at you.

"Don't talk about my best friend that way! You are too pretty. And handsome. Funny. So talented," You sigh and step forward, into Eddie's parted legs. Eddie leans up on his elbows and blinks rapidly at you. "You're so fucking pretty Baby." You murmur, hand reaching out lightly touching his thigh.

Eddie let's out a whine before looking startled at himself. You can't help but notice his dick twitch under the pale purple lace. "You like being called pretty?" You smirk. "Like when you call me Baby," Eddie replies softly.

You aren't sure who moves first, but suddenly your arms are wrapped around each other. Your lips meet Eddie's without hesitation. His are slightly chapped but still soft, molding perfectly against your own.

You run your hand down Eddie's neck, to the pale bra strap and snap it. He gasps and you take the chance, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tastes of weed, mint gum, and just Eddie.

Eddie moans against you, hips bucking forward seeking friction. You pull back, gasping for air. Eddie let's out a whine," No, come back-" "I ain't going anywhere Baby."

Eddie's eyes flutter shut as he bites his lip. He hums as you kiss his jaw, lightly nipping at his pulse point. He shivers against you, hips bucking forward again. You suck lightly as you decide to give him some relief.

Your hand snakes down, grasping him firmly. You lightly squeeze through the lace, giving just enough friction as you move your hand.

"Look so good in my lingerie Baby, you should wear it more often." You murmur between kisses. Eddie nods absently, gasping and moaning beneath you. "Got a red pair that has some nice straps, you'd look so metal and so so pretty."

Eddie freezes, mouth falling open. His brow wrinkles slightly as he moans, pleasure overtaking him. His hips spasm, even his thighs twitch, as he comes. You can feel your underwear get soaked along with part of his stomach.

You stroke him through it, extending his pleasure until he whimpers and pushes at your hand. You pull back, smiling softly at his face. Eddie's eyes flutter open, darting down to your lips. "Kiss?" He asks quietly, unsure. You simply smile and kiss him again.

#So listen...I wrote this in a feverish state and then sat here and stared at a wall for about 5 minutes #I am sure I could add more contents but uh my brain is not working #Literally just sitting with this scenario and nodding to myself whispering “yea...yeah”#Eddie would look so good #He tries it on all innocent but then likes the way it looks and feels and he is like OH #He is like ya know what I can wear whatever the hell I want he could buy his own but he doesn't cause money #But also something about wearing yours gets his blood pumping #He really never expected to tell you anytime soon and was definitely not expecting you to come home #But as he lays in bed next to you he can't help but be glad #And plan your future wedding but hey what happens in his mind stays in his mind...#And if he writes it in a journal with hearts and your names mashed together so what!!#He is still all mean and metal even if he wants to be called baby and held and look pretty #I love him he is rotating in my brain rn just sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees spinning in the microwave #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson #sub!eddie munson x reader #sub!eddie munson #sub!eddie munson x you #Jade is talking

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aimless-imagines-for-fun · 3 months ago

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Tutor Rewards

Pairing :: Chad Radwell x Fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+ Content, NSFW/SMUT, dub-con?(sex is the only thing that motivates this man), oral(m), implied cheating(never addresses that he's dating Channel at the time)

Word Count :: 1,945

Summary :: As Chad's tutor, you quickly figured out only one thing that motivates him to study: sex. He did well on a practice exam and you give him a reward.

A/N :: I KNOW GLEN POWELL HAS SO MANY OTHER CHARACTERS THAT ARE MORALLY BETTER THAN CHAD BUT he's an idiot and my first introduction to Glen and now whenever I see him in any movie I go "Look at Chad go."

If you enjoy my work consider leaving a comment or kofi as support ʕ • ᴥ • ʔ ❤️

The tapping of Chad's foot and the scribbling of your pen were the only noises in your dorm room. The star jock of the campus sat nervously a good three feet away from your desk, waiting for you to finish reviewing the practice exam he had taken. God, he was hoping he got every question right that way he could get his reward: fucking you.

You were his private– and secret– tutor. An arrangement was created by your biological anthropology professor who promised you extra credit in this class and another class of his you were taking. Your professor told you that Chad needed to raise his D+ to a C- and you'd be golden. The assignment felt easy enough until you started studying with the broad-shouldered stud. After one review, you were honestly surprised he even managed to pass his high school biology classes.

At first, you noticed he was less than enthusiastic about studying, something he rarely did apparently. He even offered to pay you to do all his homework– a suggestion you seriously considered before realizing that no matter how well you did on the assignments he'd flunk the exams, thus tanking his grade again. You tried various studying techniques: crash course videos, flashcards, jeopardy-style quizzes, hell, you even put on a paper puppet show(which surprisingly was the most successful at retaining his attention).

You were damn near ready to give up until you noticed some odd behavior from him one session.

It was a particularly warm day and the library's AC was busted, so you were wearing a spaghetti strap sundress that was a bit tight around the chest. While trying to explain the difference between various hominid skulls, you noticed he was carefully observing the photos you had, like he was paying attention. Which was odd because he never paid attention.

When you asked him to point out which skill was which species based on the teeth, you were surprised he guessed all of them correctly. Naturally, you asked him what was so different about today's session than all the others.

His answer both surprised you and grew your resentment towards him.

“Probably because when you held the pictures up you looked topless, so I was imagining what you looked like behind the photos.”

You felt your brain short-circuit for a moment before throwing all the materials you had at him in a fit of frustration before storming off. Of course, his sexualizing you is what made him pay attention to what you were saying.

God, he's such a pig it's not fair he's so damn handsome, you thought

Naturally, not wanting to fail the class, he chased after you and begged you to continue tutoring him.

“(Y/N), I need your help passing this class. If I fail I- I don't know what I'm going to do!”

“I'm not some object you can ogle at, Chad!’

“Come on! I can't help it! I had no clue you were kinda hot under all those baggy librarian cardigans.”

“‘Kinda hot’?!” Your anger was rising, and he could tell. Not only was he objectifying you, but now he had just insulted your sense of fashion.

“My bad- I shouldn't have chosen those words to say! I'm sorry!” He grabbed your hand in desperation. “Please… I need your help…”

He gave you a puppy dog pout, one that was nearly impossible to refuse. You groaned, tanking your hand away.

“You're paying me if I do this because extra credit is NOT enough.”

“Of course! Whatever you want, just name your price!”

“And we're going to have to start having study sessions at my dorm instead now.”

He cocked his head. “How come?”

You turn away, embarrassed about the reason you were going to give. “That way I can get you to pay attention.”

Chad was dumb, but he wasn't that dumb. He knew what you meant and his dick twitched. He was so sure he had seen a porn that went like this before.

Sadly for him, you genuinely meant to help him learn and had him work. Granted, you were always in a tight-fitted shirt without a bra and a short skirt, but you never let him touch you. You made it very clear, you wouldn't be fucking him– which he did try to negotiate for after getting his first B- on a pop quiz.

Eventually, his attention started to slip nearing the end of the semester. Apparently, he was losing interest in just having to imagine what you'd look like naked all the time. He needed more stimulus to pay attention.

After a lengthy debate– one he was oddly well prepared for– you both agreed you would touch him to get him to focus. You wouldn't touch him underneath his clothes, only over, and he was still not allowed to touch you. You were also getting a boost in what he was paying you.

First, it started with some gentle circling of your hands around his shoulders. Then, some rubbing of his biceps or chest, eventually moving down to his thigh. You could see a small mound forming in his crotch, though refused to touch it.

It was only when one particularly frustrating study session did you put your hand there. He was tired from practice, which would've been fine except for the fact you had a quiz the next day.

You meant to grab and squeeze his thigh to wake him up, instead of grabbing his dick. It worked though, the drowsiness immediately exiting his body and his focus all on you. You didn't want to show him how embarrassed you were, so you looked away in shame with your hand still holding his growing erection and had him memorize the key terms for the chapter you were in. With each word he correctly told you the definition of, you stroked him through his pants.

You refused to make eye contact the entire time, but he was a-okay with that since your shyness made it all the more hot for him.

This method was very useful when it came to getting Chad to memorize key terms, though it always left him wanting more. So much so, that he memorized all the key terms in the textbook in hopes of getting enough strokes he'd be able to cum. You had to admit, watching how desperate he was to cum just from some hand action over the clothes turned you on. Plus, you were majorly impressed with how much getting laid seemed to motivate the guy.

So, knowing how much of a fiend he was for sex, you promised him that if he managed to get every question right on the final exam you’d sleep with him.

Currently, you were grading the test exam the professor handed out. Chad was getting about every eight questions wrong, worrying you slightly that you might have to sleep with him. You only made the deal partly because you didn’t think it would happen. With a score of 83/100, you almost debated sabotaging him a bit. You put down your red

“Nice, does this mean we’re finally fucking?”

“I told you I’d only do that if you got a perfect score on the final exam. Now shut up, or else I'm not rewarding you by sucking your dick anymore, Chad.”

“Understood,” He said with a shit-eating grin.

He got comfortable fast, spreading his legs wide open to give you plenty of room. You sink between his legs, a heat rising to your cheeks and between your thighs. You pulled out his rock-hard erection, not surprised in the slightest that even his penis looked good– of course, Chad Radwell didn't have any physical flaws. He was slightly longer than average(or at least what you were used to), a good girth, and a few veins already popped though.

You opened your mouth up wide and took in his tip, earning a pleased hum when you swirl your tongue around, going down further as you did.

“Shit, did you practice before?” He teased.

You glared, taking in more but still unable to get his full length in your mouth. You began bobbing your head quickly, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. As the droll started to spill out from the sides of your mouth, you noticed the veins on his forearms begin to flex.

“Shit, wait-!” He nearly shouted, hands jumping to your hair and yanking you still.

You whined, wanting to pull away and yell at him for pulling your hair, but his grip remained firm, keeping you in place. You stared up at him, waiting for him to explain himself.

“I wanna enjoy this, not get rushed to cum. This is a reward isn't it?”

He began to guide your head at a much slower pace. When he brought you down, his hips inched up, pushing more of his length down your throat. Unused to taking more down your throat, your eyes started to water as you had to fight your gag reflex. He repeated this until he managed to get his dick down your throat and your face was practically against his pelvis.

Instinctively, your body grew hot. You cursed the wetness that was forming on your panties right now.

“Fuck yes,” He groaned out. He grinned down at you, admiring your crying eyes and full mouth. “You know (Y/N), you might even be hotter than Channel when you're not saying anything and just sucking dick.”

Unable to reply verbally, you lifted your middle finger. A part of you wanted to bite down on him and wipe the smug grin off his face, but another part of you had to admit it felt so good having him borderline face fuck you right now.

He picked up the speed a bit, though he didn't go as far down when he did. He was enjoying the view, yet he desperately wanted to cum. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to finish in your mouth or on your face. With the tension growing in his lower abdomen, he knew he had to make a choice and soon.

You were also aware of his readiness to cum. His guiding was getting sloppy and his hands were gripping your hair tighter.

Realizing you'd be upset if you had to get semen out of your hair, he decided to finish in your mouth. So, he pulled your mouth off, only giving you a brief moment to gasp before standing and ramming his cock back in. He held your head in place as he thrusted into your mouth repeatedly. Your hands reached up, grabbing onto his forearms as you moaned around him.

With a few long strokes, his dick began to twitch, and hit spurts of cum poured down your throat. He held you close, making sure you swallowed every drop. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth until he eventually stopped and pulled himself out. You coughed a bit, and when he released your hair you slumped forward, your hands helping you remain up.

“I can’t…believe…you just…throat fucked me…asshole,” You said between pants.

“Like I said, it was a reward. I deserved to enjoy it.”

Begrudgingly, you took his hand when he offered to help you up. He was still beaming with joy, and your heart sank at his next sentence:

“Don’t make any plans for the 15th. I plan on making the most of my reward again,” and with a wink he left.

The 15th was the day your professor would release the scores for the final exam and possibly the day you had to have sex with that handsome idiot.

#chad radwell x reader #chad radwell smut #chad radwell fanfic #glen powell x reader #glen powell smut #glen powell fanfic #scream queens fanfic

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seikkoi · 11 months ago

Text

ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ | t. stark & s. strange x f!reader

Step one: Work at one of the most successful research laboratories in the country. Step two: Don't fuck it up. Step two and a half: Do not fuck it up.

content/warnings: mildly dubious consent (sooo uncharacteristic of me), degradation, power dynamics, voyeurism, shy reader, org*sm denial, v*ginal fingering word count: 2.6k a/n: im having a small fixation on our favorite witchy doctor dont worry abt it

Shitshitshit!

You chastised yourself mentally over and over again, watching the bright blue numbers tick downwards. It might make sense to get up, scramble across the lab, fling your hand around the incubator and pull the plug. That’s what an amateur would do, but you’re an expert and know that will do fuck all for you now. Then again, an expert would have set the goddamned temperature correctly.

You’d fallen asleep at your desk–a natural consequence of several late nights collecting data (or drowning in term papers and reports). In your half-awake state, right before your head hits the table, you set the temperature twenty degrees lower than it should be. Dreamland gave no clues to the impending doom awaiting you. Instead, you dreamt of a tropical paradise. Your sunny fantasia was inevitably interrupted by the persistent beep that echoed the labs walls.

The digits keep trickling down, and you rest your head in your heads. All you can do is wait for it to hit zero. Thousands of synthetic cultures–gone. That was two months of work down the drain, and your bosses expected a very long report, printed and neatly stapled by the end of this week.

You were so fucking fired.

The numbers finally stop, the computer beeping tauntingly as if you needed verbal confirmation on how screwed you were. You could not even begin to imagine how you would explain this. You worked at one of the best laboratories in the world, there wasn’t room for rookies errors here. Especially not when they come from supposed wannabe professionals like you (and cost millions of dollars). Your first week some larger-than-life MIT grad used the wrong inventory system and was gone by noon. You weren’t any better, just some Ph.D candidate trying to boost her resume.

The computer stops, and in its absence you pick up on the slight tick of the clock on the desk. The red analog reads 9:57 PM. Late, but not too late for your bosses to still be around. You’re nauseous with guilt, but you can’t imagine carrying it through the night, working with nothing through the rest of week just to get canned on Friday.

No, you’d accept your fate now.

If you were lucky, you’d only have to talk to one of them.

You don’t have a preference for either. Stark had no issue showing dissatisfaction through his words, often sternly and without grace. The good part was that he was the same way with praise, although you rarely managed to earn that. Strange on the other hand was, well, strange. You barely interacted with him, but when you did you always left the conversation not sure if he despised you or merely tolerated your presence. It changed your working attitude from focusing on the science to scrambling for perfection to gain even the faintest ounce of approval.

Obviously, not well enough if you were making Alaska-sized mistakes like this. Both were equally arrogant (unfortunately, well deserved) and you knew neither of them well enough to plead for your job.

You make your way down the dim hallway, passing the empty offices and labs. More than one mental pep talk passes through your mind. The end of the hallway held your demise, a cracked open door holding an illuminating light and a pair of voices.

All you could do was hope they weren’t too harsh.

Beyond the wooden door, you listen to two voices argue indiscriminately.

“I suppose you think we should just give it away.” one says exasperatedly, and you figure this is Stark by the sarcasm laced in each syllable.

“No,” the other sighs, “but our shareholders will never agree to this price point.”

“The shareholders will agree to whatever we tell them to.”

“You’re right, to a point. Still, we need to be realistic in our expectation of returns.”

“We haven’t done all this work for realism. We did it for profit and you want to sell our hard work to the lowest bidder.”

You tapped your knuckles against the oak door, heart beating in your chest. You went through a couple of opening lines–promises about how this would never happen again and pleas for understanding. Logically, you knew neither were likely to be granted. The voices on the other side grant you entrance that you take nervously. Inside, Stark sits at the large desk in the middle of the room. Strange stands beside him, peering over papers that you presume sparked their conversation.

At the sight of you, both men seem to soften their hardened expressions. Whatever nonsense flared their words a moment ago is gone, replaced by confusion by their junior researcher at their door this late. Strange glances at the timepiece on his wrist before you can say anything, scoffing and shaking his head.

“Yes, [y/n]?”

The annoyance drips, clearly not amused by your poorly timed visit. You wring your fingers in front of your body.

“Firstly, sirs, I want to apologize, there was a mistake with the incubator, and the cultures were destroyed.”

You wish you sounded more confident, but instead your eyes dart between the men and the floor. Your omission tumbles out in a whiny tone, waiting on every syllable for their faces to turn and tell you how stupid you were and how much you cost them in time and resources. That’s not how it goes, however.

Stark leans back in the leather desk chair, metal creaking as his arms are crossed in front of his body. He makes an annoyed face, sure, but not the angry scowl you were dreading.

Strange’s reaction is even more peculiar, chuckling slightly and glancing back at Tony.

“Did the incubator make a mistake, or did you?” he says lightheartedly, a grin stretching on his face, yet the words create a swell in your throat.

Tony seems to find it amusing as well, watching Strange stalk towards you. He stops in the middle of the office. You’re less than two yards away, trying not to tremble under his gaze.

“I did, sir, I’m sorry. I’ll gather my things and leave.” you whispered, hanging your head in shame.

Your feet are on autopilot, turning for the door until Strange speaks again.

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” he chuckles. “Right, Tony?”

You turn back to see him looking towards Stark, who hums in approval. Even more confused, you watch as Strange beckons you closer, and you obey on instinct.

“I don’t think it’s a good look for a Ph.d candidate to have a termination from such a large company on her record.” Tony coos from his chair.

“No, not at all. That might just tarnish her future.” Strange adds.

Their eyes rake over you. Stephen beckons you forward again, and you comply once more. Clearly, they were mocking you before giving you the boot. The condescending drip in their voices leaves your skin hot with embarrassment.

“We wouldn’t want that for you, sweetheart.” Tony sits up as Strange guides you towards the desk, a large hand resting on your back.

“I-I don’t understand.” you stammer.

They both share another laugh at your confusion. Stephen stands behind you once you reach the desk. He nudges you forward until your hips are flush against the edge. There’s still separation, but not enough that you can’t sense his body right behind yours.

“I’m sure a smart girl like you knows how valuable you are to us,” Tony locks eyes with you as Strange twirls your hair in his fingers. The touch shocks you to turn back to him, only for Strange to push you back to face Tony.

“Everyone makes mistakes, after all.”

Your eyes widen when Stephen presses his body into yours, easily towering over you. Heavy hands trail down your jean-covered hips, hot enough to burn your skin through the denim.

“We’re very understanding, I’m sure we can work something out.” Stephen’s voice purrs in your ear, warm breath tickling your throat.

The glittering look in Stark’s eye is all too familiar, watching Stephen’s hands get acquainted with every inch of your form. You shudder under his touch. The blood in your veins runs cold as you catch a wink between the two men–and suddenly, you understand.

“Wouldn’t want your career to end before it even starts now would we?” Tony taunts.

Fingers tease along your side. Soon, they work their way under your shirt, grazing the skin of your midriff.

Any lingering uncertainty is snuffed when Stephen presses further into you. The desk digs into your hips, trapping you between it and the tall doctor.

“I can’t–we can’t–this isn’t–”

Each attempt at a full sentence fails under Tony's lustful gaze. It’s quite enjoyable watching you fail against Stephen. Recruitment always seemed to be just the prettiest research assistants. Who could blame them for finally getting an opportunity for a taste?

Not to mention you did just cost them a small fortune with your little mistake. Contrary to your beliefs, though, they liked your work ethic (and you, for that matter). Letting go of such a helpful piece of eye candy simply wouldn’t do. That doesn’t mean that kindness is a guarantee.

“No?” Tony hums. “Well, we could always let you go. We can give a shining recommendation, of course having to mention your little incompetencies.”

Being blacklisted would kill you. All you wanted was to work in this field. Years of late nights and term papers down the drain was a far greater loss than a few synthetic cultures.

“Please, you don’t have to do that.” you plead. Behind you, Strange’s beard scratches your throat. His hands travel further north, dancing on the hem of your bra. Goosebumps spread across your skin.

“Like I said, I’m sure we can all come to some sort of compromise.” Stephen’s voice drops low and heavy, enveloping on your covered breasts in his right hand. He squeezes gently, tweaking your nipple through the padded fabric.

“W-what if someone finds out–please, just–”

“Oh, don’t you worry, honey. We know how to be discreet.” Tony smirks.

Your eyes can never seem to leave Tony’s, watching his smile grow as your arousal does. It’s against your doing. Stephen completely surrounds you, touching any part of you he could reach. You gasp when the doctor’s idle hand finds your other nipple, rocking himself into you as you squirm.

“I think she wants to keep her job, don’t you, honey?” Stephen chimes in.

You nod nervously. If this would save your career, so be it. People have slept with their bosses for less, right? And you certainly weren’t blind, both men were attractive in their own rights, able to pander through a catalog of women much smarter and much more their style. It begs the question why they were doing this all–crossing such a boundary with a goddamned graduate student.

“Oh no, honey, we’ll need to hear you say it.”

You barely blink, nor breath, all brain power zeroing in on Strange’s heat pressed into you. Tony raises an impatient eyebrow and you manage to answer out of the need to appease him and keep your job.

“Yes, I’ll do whatever you want.”

The second the words leave you, Stephen’s hand disappears from your shirt to push you over the desk. You would’ve face planted straight into it had his palms not wrapped tightly around each of your wrists, yanking your arms. You try to sit up, uncomfortably pressed between Stephen Itchy wool suit pants and the wooden desk. Tony gleams down at you as the doctor keeps a firm hand splayed across your back, his right hand reaching around for the zipper of your jeans.

In the next moment, you feel cool air bend around your bare legs. Before you can have anything even remotely resembling second thoughts, your lace panties are quickly pulled to your ankles as well. Warmth flushes across your cheeks, feeling Stephen’s hungry eyes and fingers on your exposed cunt–all while Tony’s eyes stay locked onto you, smile growing wider as your shame does.

That became harder the second rough hands grab the supple flesh of your ass before a teasing finger slid across wet folds. You squirmed against Stephen’s hold on your wrists, trying desperately to look anywhere but at your boss as you bit back a soft gasp.

“I think our pretty little assistant is feeling a bit shy, Stephen.” Tony declares, reaching out to caress the side of your face not pressed into the surface. It sends butterflies up your spine at how gently he draws tight circles on the skin of your cheek, humming in satisfaction from how roughly Stephen roams over your body.

“Tsk, I hardly believe that, as wet as she is right now.” he murmurs, distracted by the mess you wish you weren’t making.

You kept your lips pierced tightly between your teeth, lids squeezing shut when a long digit pushes into your aching walls. A deep groan from Strange echoes behind you. You hardly had time to eat, let alone maintain a social life. This meant it had been almost months since you’d slept with anyone–leaving needy and aching from the simplest touch. Even if it was your boss.

You instinctively try to pull forward when a second finger is roughly added, and this time you can’t stop the whimper as you stretch around him.

“There it is–feels good doesn’t it? Don’t be shy, honey.” Tony’s voice sounds like smolding ice, freezing your nerves and setting your skin on fire.

You almost hate yourself for how good this feels, Stephen pistoning in and out of your cunt until the sounds of your arousal against his fingers flood the office walls. All while Tony strokes your face like you're made of fine china. It’s far more than your body can handle, stomach already tightening with each pulse of the doctor’s fingers.

“Go ahead, hon’, tell us how much you like it.”

Your face warms. From his touch or embarrassment, you’re not sure. You stammer under the heat, trying to look anywhere but Tony’s piercing eyes.

Stephen’s hand comes down strong on your exposed ass, earning a loud cry from you as you strain against his hold. It shouldn’t make your head spin as much as it does.

“That wasn’t a request, answer him.” the doctor commands, gripping your wrists even tighter. When you take a second too long to muster a response, another strike falls on your opposite cheek. Your nerves are nearly disintegrated, still relishing good his finger feel stretching your cunt.

“It–it’s good, it feels–” you cry out once more when he spanks you again, taunting you for being too quiet.

“It feels really good, sir.” you say louder, nearly shouting into the wood as your legs shake.

Tony laughs above you, only worsening your shame. It’s an easily forgotten feeling–Stephen’s fingers curl inside you, testing each angle until he finds the one that makes you squirm. Soon enough, you forget where you are entirely, barely able to tell where your skin and theirs begin. Your high is far too close to care about the way Tony watches you, or how bruised your wrists will be after Stephen’s done with you.

Just as your mind starts to split into two, it’s quickly interrupted. Stephen withdraws from your soaking cunt, leaning over you to press you impossibly further into the desk, unbuckling the leather belt at his waist. You jerk your head up at the ache between your legs, meeting Tony’s devilish smirk. Warm lips grace your ear, chuckling at your needy panting.

“Aw, poor thing. Don’t think we’d let you off that easy–you’ll need to earn it.” Stephen whispers.

As he sinks into you, you get the feeling this mistake will take quite some time to pay back.

#tony stark x reader #mcu fanfiction #seikkoiwrites #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark smut #marvel fanfiction #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange smut #tw dubious consent

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