#one day destruction came through my front door | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seraphdreams · 1 year ago

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"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

"TO SEE WHAT YOUR INSIDES LOOK LIKE." | GHOSTFACE!ARMIN ARLERT.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 4.6k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader, smut, modern au, mentions of murder / death / blood, fingering, armin’s a creep, symbolism, noncon/dubcon, insanity, manipulation, monomania, creampie, knives, stalking. mdni <3.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. armin’s worked hard to build up his perfect life, and he certainly wasn’t expecting for someone to rip that from under him. he’s obsessed — with a life that isn’t his.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! we are sooo back n in full swing for kinktober this year !! i’ll drop my masterlist here for all the prettie dolls to check out … please show this some love by reblogging / sharing, it’ll mean the absolute world 2 me !! kk, luv ya, bye ♡

Armin Arlert. Age 23. Graduated from Shiganshina University.

Armin Arlert, starting his new life under a freshly installed roof that rivaled his dorm of the past four years and provided him with much needed privacy. Armin Arlert, with a degree in humanitarian affairs accompanied with a promising future ahead, it’s the life he deserved after the turbulent destruction that was his tragic past. He could start over now in high hopes of making a name for himself in this unfamiliar city. Nothing could stop him, or the unperturbed spout of elation percolating within.

Aside from optimism, though, he remained undoubtedly sure that the life he had curated for himself was one that no other could outclass. He was smart — spent his days in libraries, in his study room, reading about anything that satiated his appetite for enlightenment, and be that as it may, he wasn’t looking for a lover. His solace brought him far better pleasure than any person could possibly imagine.

He’d work, research, and then work some more, day in and day out. And the day of your meeting was no different.

He had decided to utilize the time he carved out of his restless schedule for a much needed re-read of his favorite book. Moments like these were significant to Armin; the pungent aroma of freshly brewed tea in his mug, luminescence dim in the apartment, and a faint timbre of violins that spilled from his speaker.

Moments like these were when he couldn’t keep track of how many hours had passed him by as he flipped page by page into whatever universe his books had drawn him into.

Rested against the kitchen counter with his novel in one hand and retrieving a sip from his beverage in the other, his eyes scanned the piece of literature. Every once and awhile, he’d shift his weight from his left hip to the right, or opt to sit on the cozy loveseat in his study. All without withdrawing his attention from his book.

Glasses low on the bridge of his nose, he gently pushed them up — Then it came. The sonority of his doorbell, jostling him out of his serene thoughts and the inquisitiveness that flowed through his veins soon after, urged his body to tread to the front door in search of the cause.

As his footfall led him closer to the handle of the door, he could make out a silhouette, seemingly of a woman. All inquisitions of who could be at his doorstep were fulfilled once he opened it and you stood, with a bright smile on your face.

Armin’s angelic features hidden underneath a veil of golden blond tresses accentuated his soft, azure-hued eyes. His face was one of few that aided you in comfort just upon first glance, which chased away the unease of the possibility that he could’ve been ill-tempered.

“Hi, I’m Y/N! I moved in next door,” You pointed your thumb in the direction beside you as if to signal which side of the building you’d be occupying. “I just thought I'd introduce myself,”

He matched your syrupy sweet beam with one of his own, the corners of his eyes turning upward in tandem as if they were smiling too. He held the door open slightly wider to catch a better glimpse of you. From your attire, he could discern that you weren’t much of a modest girl, but it’d be wrong of him to idly make assumptions. Especially when his choice of dress during the lax hours of the day were a white button-up, cashmere cardigan thrown atop, with a pair of tan slacks.

“Y/N?” He repeated, in a manner to affirm that he had heard correctly. “I’m Armin. It’s nice to meet you,”

He would’ve held his hand out for yours had it not been engaged by his book. You weren’t trying to pry, yet the cover of the story was lucid in your mind once you took notice. “Berenice? The Edgar Allan Poe novel?”

His eyes trailed to where your manicured nail was pointed. The rosy flush of his cheeks deepened while he rubbed away the discomfiture stirring at the back of his neck. Once again, he had mindlessly brought his book with him wherever he strode.

“Y-Yeah, It’s my favorite. Have you read it?”

“A few times,” You hummed, meeting his sheepish gaze. “It’s so jarring, right?”

Armin skimmed over your face before allowing himself to speak. “But there’s beauty in the madness,” His words trolled over in a more weighty tone than he had intended, an apologetic smile on his face once he caught wind.

“Or at least that’s how i interpret it,”

His outward timidity roused an endearing chuckle from you. “I truly don’t mean to bother you, though. If you need anything I'm on your right!” You retort with a vague inclination of haste.

Truth be told, Armin’s interest in you piqued with the mention of the Poe story. “Oh, you’re not a bother-”

His vocables fell short against your own when you waved him goodbye, and he mirrored your actions with cordiality in his eyes.

Maybe she’s just busy.

—

Ever since Armin’s first encounter with you, he had found himself taking a rather atypical interest in the relations of you. The first bout of instances being regular events of curiosity where he’d watch as the moving company aided you in getting your belongings settled; hauling in furniture and appliances, all while Armin remained under the guise of checking his mailbox. Over a short span of time, though, he found himself increasingly knowledgeable in the subject that was you.

You showered at 8:00pm. You ate dinner at 7:00pm. The alarm settled on your desk, a few feet beyond your bed would go off at 6:00am sharp, and he’d be up at that same dawning hour to anticipate your departure to work.

He knew these things. Of course, he did.

He memorized all of your schedules to calculate what you’d be doing throughout the day, and where.

His own work was slow for him during those days, and books didn’t seem to capture that spark of exhilaration like you did. For once, he felt enthralled by each day granting him an opportunity to analyze you further.

On another day, he’d built up enough confidence to observe you as you came home from work, once more, under the false assumption that he’d been checking his mail.

“Good afternoon.”

Armin’s voice registered within your being quickly, startling you out of your fast-paced strut to your door. “Oh, good afternoon!” Your footfall faltered until you reached a close. “Armin, was it?”

Over Armin’s time of stalking- no, studying you, he’d come to realize just how ethereal you were. It was as if the deities above handmade every feature on your face, curve of your body, lilt in your voice with the intention of making you one of their own — an angel.

He found you charming.

With a nod of his head, he braced himself to inch toward you. Not proximal enough to cause you discomfort, he wouldn’t want that, yet enough to signal his unwavering immersion. “Did you just come from work?”

It was otiose of him to ask the question seeing as he undeniably knew the answer. Judging from your business attire and pencil skirt just a little too short for any other establishment’s dress standards, he had assumed you worked a kushy job at an office firm. You evidently earned a heap of money, with him recalling the numerous occasions you’d come home with luxury shopping bags hanging off your arms, tied in with the fact that the suites he inhabited weren't exactly affordable for the average person.

You responded hospitably to his question, that same lovely smile poured over your features and seeping into his personage. “Mhm, and what about you? Your work?”

He was surprised at your need to pull the conversation along further, it was as if you were succoring to curate his plans, as if you could read his mind and pick out from a haystack that you were his only interest, you were his source of bliss. A serendipitous moment, indeed. He straightened himself up, clearing his throat. “Me? Oh, well I just help out at charities and organizations from time to time,”

He’d be a fool to deny the set of wide eyes that were fixated upon his figure.

“For real? You must be a really good person then.” You responded with your hands clasped together and held against your chest, pupils of your eyes glittered in a sense of unshakable admiration.

As the conversation went on, you had begun to synonimize your neighbor with the fresh, and comforting feeling of congeniality. It helped that he was easy to converse with, seeming as he’d always been listening while keeping eye contact and rewiring his queries in a way that deemed you the main focus, and he, a vessel for your words to absorb within.

For Armin, he enjoyed getting to know you. You were perfect, in all the best ways.

And soon enough, through an exhausting series of prying inquiries, he’d piece together that your perfection wasn’t hulled along by determination or strong will, but by God’s good grace. He’d come to register that you didn’t have to struggle like he did to reach the triumphant point in life for which he stood. You were born that way, born with a silver spoon in your mouth and just the right kiss-ass people in your life to keep you that way. A spoiled fucking brat.

What had been the rationale behind his suffering? The years in which he’d been bullied repeatedly in public schools, had acquaintances that had only cared about him for their personal gain, and parents so utterly vapid that they’d give up their only child if it meant they could continue working towards an unattainable goal?

Fueled by a sense of jealousy, he waned your nepotism a hindrance. You were merely a telescope that he wanted so badly to see into.

For Armin was obsessed with a life that wasn’t his.

Meticulously, he had spent his time after that hidden away within his flat. Armin didn’t care to know anything more about you, he didn’t care to see your face, and he surely didn’t care for you.

When he stumbled across an unkempt, unpacked box in his room with the label of “Uni 2019,” written on the side in thick, inky letters, his concern led him to relive those memories upon removing the cardboard lid.

In it, there were polaroid photos, compact trophies he’d won from participating in school events, courtesy of his STEM minor, and a dark piece of fabric that caught his eye more than anything.

He recalled his first year of college where his two closest friends, Eren and Mikasa, dragged him out of their stuffy shared dorm and onto one of the first parties held by the school’s fraternity house during the fall semester.

“Armin, you look ridiculous,”

Mikasa said as she stomped away in her leather boots, leading the way for the two men accompanying her to follow her off-campus.

She was dressed in homage to Misa Amane from her favorite anime, although the style of dress aided no significance since it was hauntingly similar to her everyday wardrobe.

Eren was intended to show up as “Light” but he insisted on wearing something he deemed appealing, his plan was to get initiated by the end of the night, anyhow. He wore a deep black cloak, dark ripped jeans and had his hair tied aimlessly into his warped perception of a bun, with the mask of a ghost facing sideways on his head to allow for him to see.

Ghostface. Scream (1996).

Armin allowed himself to be pulled away by the Ackerman, his rebuttal falling on deaf ears. “You didn’t give me enough time, Mika. This is all I could come up with.” Armin’s poor excuse for a costume was tissue paper wrapped around his frame in stereotypical mummy fashion, a classic of all classics.

Though, that night had concluded like any other gathering involving college-aged students, the trio having woken up to hangovers and bad decisions.

Armin stared at the contents of the box a while longer before taking the cloak out and trying it on for size. Obviously, it was meant for a taller person, but regardless, the wheels in his head gradually spun.

He took it off after careful observation when the sensation of juvenility filled his veins. He wasn’t fond of the costume rousing the impression that he was an illegitimate killer — He knew more than he let on, and his passion for the grotesqueries scribed in his books further proved that.

Concurrently, you had been pondering the reason for Armin’s disappearance. After your last conversation with him, he’d stopped formulating ways to talk to you and seemed to never leave his suite, and your heart yearned for his presence once the feeling truly settled in.

You had been swayed by his charm.

His dulcet tone of voice, the intriguing quirks that seemed to hang off of him like leaves to a tree; You missed the way he cared for you, through mundane matters and the like.

Night had fallen, the warm, ochre hues of the day meshing in perfect balance with deep purple tones that signified time’s passing. You were settling into bed, just about ready to fall into slumber when you heard light tapping at your door.

Only for a second did the thought of who could possibly be up this late float through your mind.

Your soles kissed the floor when you made your way to the front door. And once you finally opened it, the sight of your worst fear was drawn to life — The deviant sight of the unknown, with what seemed to look like a kitchen knife in its right hand.

Quickly, without time to react, you attempted to slam the door shut with the force of your shoulder but the action proved futile when the aggressor’s strength pushed back against the wood, sending you stumbling backwards and vulnerable to any attack.

Heavy footsteps creeped eerily towards you out of something from a horror film. Your worst mistake was turning your back, scrambling for a way to retrieve your phone, or even a weapon.

“Help! He-”

The stranger was more agile than you had assumed, easily capturing you with one arm around your waist and its hand cupped against your mouth. You couldn’t shake the terror growing within you as hot tears seemed to spill down your cheeks and your heartbeat so intense, you were sure that it’d had been noticeable.

Your body soft in the assaulter’s touch, they embraced your body taut. The sensation was suffocating, your eyes squeezed shut to further distance yourself from the situation at hand, even if it was only a mental trick.

You resided in a relatively safe area, so why were you in this situation? What cruel joke were you the target of?

The grip on your body loosened ever so slightly, yet you were still fixed in place by the attacker’s opposite hand. While your body was immobilized, you felt the lingering of metal lightly drag against your abdomen to find itself settled just underneath the band of your lace pajamas.

Just moments prior, you had completed your elaborate nightly routine consisting of a glass of wine, face mask, and a warm bath. You also found it fitting to change into one of your newer pajama sets — Thin, baby pink, lace bralette with matching shorts that called for forgoing the need for panties.

All you wanted was to wake up from this nightmare.

“It’d be so beautiful if you died right here in my arms,” Your assailant spoke.

Through your ears, his voice was familiar. A tone so soft, you refused to believe the possibility of who it’s owner could be.

His hand over your mouth was hesitant to situate itself elsewhere in wariness of how you’d react. He was aware of the power behind a blood-curdling scream. The neighbors in this area were nosy. He would know.

He let out a sigh. “But you look really pretty tonight. I wouldn’t want to get blood on you,” His knife trailed further into your shorts, the edge cutting out a hole in the fabric at the seat of the garment.

“Did you do all this for me?”

You winced when the sonority of cloth ripping resonated through your ears. The blade felt dangerously close, running along your body as if to taunt you. That had to be the case; You were in the perfect position to be harmed, so why hadn’t your attacker done so? With your body stricken from fear, his job was easy. Was it not?

The hand over your mouth moved to caress your face and you gasped heavily for the air you were denied.

“W-What do you want?” Your voice echoed shakily throughout the room, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. His knife inched upward to your sternum, and slowly dragged itself back down to your abdomen as he spoke.

“To see what your insides look like.”

For a split second, his hold on you seemed to diminish, granting you the perfect opportunity to run. Yet, your legs felt frail as if there were weights tied to your ankles. The assailant quickly repositioned himself in front of you, his head tilting slightly while he continued his up and down ministrations with the edge of the blade gingerly pressed against your flesh. Not forceful enough to draw blood.

“But maybe now, I want to feel your insides,” His steps crept closer, and instinctively you tried to create as much distance as possible by stepping back. It proved useless when your back hit the cold surface of the door, his face mere centimeters from yours.

Your breath hitched as you found comfort in the presence of the door, leaning against it as if it’d keep you from harm’s reach. You fidgeted, fumbling to grasp at the handle that’d grant you escape. The masked man took notice, hovering over your frame to keep you from trying anything.

“Please- -” Your plea fell in the form of a choked up whimper, just the sound he wanted to hear.

More uncomfortable ripping was sounded when his blade etched a perfect cut in your shorts, leaving your bare cunt out on display for his eyes to see. “Don’t be shy, pretty. I’m sure lots of guys have seen you like this. Am I right?”

Crudeness started to sink in as your face morphed into a contradictory pout. He took your expression for a no and chuckled genuinely, albeit louder than his previous tone. “No? Does this make me the first?” His eyes scanned your lower half once more, then flit back to meet your fear-blown orbs.

“I’d really love to be your first,”

Having grown confident enough to be sure that you wouldn’t try to break free, he dropped the knife to the side, metal clamorously clinking against hardwood flooring while he used his free hand to lift your right leg over the juncture of his elbow. He carefully slotted his middle and ring fingers into your hole, shallowly pumping. Your legs threatened to close with what you couldn’t make of embarrassment or denial.

Your mind felt cloudy once your body gave up its immobility and allowed pleasure to course through your veins, heat rushing to your core with every pump of his fingers. He took notice of the way your expression hastily contorted into one of pure pleasure, eyebrows knit together and your mouth slightly agape, eliciting quiet moans to tumble past.

It was a whorish sight, indeed. A circumstance you couldn’t control with your death at the forefront, yet it was terrifyingly easy to succumb to the euphoric sensation building up within you. The pad of his thumb found its way to your aching clit, and from just the light circling motions in tandem with his fingers, you felt yourself floating to the cusp of release.

“F-Fuck- -“ you rasped. Your hand reached out for his wrist to push him away but the attempt was futile and in turn, he sped up his ministrations.

“Didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth. You’re making me lose interest.” He coyly teased.

He was thankful you couldn’t see how flushed his face appeared under the mask. The sight of you spread open for him was too much to bear, he could cum in that moment without ever feeling your gummy walls wrapped around his painstakingly hard cock.

Just before you were about to hit your orgasm, he pulled his fingers away. An agitated groan rumbled from your throat, eyes finally opening to the sight of the man before you, removing his mask and unveiling his true identity.

Something within you didn’t want to admit what you had seen.

From the golden strands of hair that shimmered against the moonlight to his cyan-hued orbs tinted dark with madness. It was Armin, but it wasn’t Armin.

“M-Min.. You —“ The words failed to leave your mouth in a coherent string of sentences. It couldn’t have been your neighbor, not Armin. He was far too delicate, too feeble to carry out a task like this.

He kept unwavering eye contact with you, your pupils shaking from shock. “Hm? Couldn’t see a thing with this mask on,” His response was that of nonchalance, his hand coming to caress your tear-stained cheeks.

“You’re much prettier behind the mesh.”

He pulled down the zipper of his slacks along with the garment itself and his briefs, just enough so that his cock was freed. You didn’t want to look, but you did. You notice how bulbous the head was, glowing a bright pink while the rest of it was pretty girthy as well. It bobbed under its weight, the strings of precum leaking onto your inner thighs as he lined it up with your entrance.

“Why would y—“

Just before you could get the vocables out, he pushed his entire length inside of you, head tilted back and adam’s apple bouncing with each groan he let out. You felt as though you were being split open by how fat his cock was, how it glided effortlessly in and out of your heat.

His pace was tauntingly slow as if he’d shoot his load prematurely. Once he gradually thrusted more vigorously though, you found it hard to keep whimpers at bay. Each push in felt deeper than the last, the wind within your system struggling to keep you afloat. You reached for something to hold onto, scrambling for Armin’s shoulders in the end. Your nails dug deep at the lean muscles of his back, creating raw, catlike scratches on the flesh.

The pain was enough to make him smile. Or maybe it wasn’t the pain, but the sight of you so desperate for him — So desperate for your killer.

How pathetic.

He leaned himself upward to meet your gaze again, that of something from a horror movie, his gaze was darker than before, strung together by a serious expression. “Kiss me.”

You almost didn’t hear him as your impending orgasm was your only focus. When you took too long to respond, he glanced back at the knife settled just underneath his foot, in a manner to remind you of the real dangers he was capable of.

With the slightest inclination of hesitancy, your lips met his. Contrary to his actions, his kisses were soft, sloppy, and hungry, as if he were craving you. He hooked his arms beneath your knees to hoist you up and against him.

Deeper. You whimpered into his kisses wondering how his cock fucked into you deeper. He slammed your body down onto his length, using your body like it was a toy. You pulled away from the kiss, heaving for air as your head fell upon his shoulder. “Gonna cum, ‘m so close!” Your words slurred, and before you knew it, your essence came in waves, each aftershock more jolting than the last.

He continued pounding into you, shifting his position to hold you up against the wall. Your pleasure reverberated in the form of an inaudible cry while you allowed for the bullying of his cock in your cunt. It was evident to you that he was close from the way his features were etched in pure ecstasy.

Armin looked pretty like that — Wisps of tawny bangs messily splayed across his forehead from perspiration and a light tinge of scarlet dusted across his nose and cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. His soft, rosy lips were slickened with the mixture of your wet kiss and his.

“Oh, God-”

The guttural groan he let out had your walls clamping down taut around him. “Cum for me again—Shit! Say my name,”

The stamina he retained came as unexpected to you, your overstimulated heat trying to find pleasure in the way it’s being battered up. He spoke again, this time with a docile lilt in his tone.

“Tell me you’re mine, Y/N. I wanna be yours.”

You didn’t want to. You were beyond opposed to feeding into his hedonistic delusions, especially in the impuissant state that you were in. Yet, you couldn’t stop the affirmations from flowing once another orgasmic high coiled up in your core.

“Armin! ‘M yours! All yours,”

Just as soon as your words circulated through his mind, he felt his balls tighten, his thrusts faltering in potency as he reached closer to his high.

In his mind, it was profoundly amorous that you both had hit euphoria simultaneously, warm ropes of his sticky seed painting your walls while he shallowly jettisoned every last drop. Your womb was the goal, and he had scored.

He was tentative to pull out, wanting to relish in the warmth of your core for as long as he possibly could but he knew the idea wouldn’t be feasible. “You’re so good. I mean, you listen so well,”

He delicately placed you back on your feet, your body lax in his hold. “Thank you!” He beamed, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze.

“Thank you for what?” You responded, your eyes searching for anything else to focus on as you gained enough strength to separate yourself from him, even if it was just a few inches.

“You helped me,”

You couldn’t make sense of the nonsense coming out of his mouth nor his need to be a hair's breadth away from you at all times.

“You helped me realize I never wanted to hurt you,” His hands found their place at your waist, softly running along the curve. “I just wanted to be inside you.”

“No, you wanted to kill me.” You spoke in a more conflicted tone, wondering if the gears in his head were turning at all. He chuckled, creating a few inches of distance between the two of you.

“I mean, I did at first. I was jealous, Y/N,” His voice sounded like that of a beg. “You have such a perfect life and I want it — I want to be in it.”

You couldn’t bear to listen to anymore of his twisted thoughts, feeling the heavy coat of uncomfortability weighing your shoulders down. “Armin, you’re crazy.”

“I love you, Y/N. Let me into your life, please?”

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his hands furthering south until they halted at the small of your back.

“I won’t hurt you,”

“I love you.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — @valentinevampyr @oneofthesevensins @iamtrashgod @iconicbabii @inusdoll @kloesklarity @bakuhoe-3 @antistellxr

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nectardaddy · 8 days ago

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YOU'D NEVER KNOW . . . k. sugawara + f! reader

♬ mentally exhausted // she don't recognize herself yet // and it's getting too much to bear // but it's hard to tell by looking at her // she seems so well put together // you'd never know

✩ you'd never know, evan honer

₊˚. notes/CWs : hurt/comfort, depression + anxiety, panic attack, nausea/feelings of wanting to vomit, feelings of self loathing, reader is a teacher, not proofread, self shippy as fuck I'm sorry, this felt good to write so just…don't perceive me

Her fingers hurt from the tight hold on the sink. Knuckles tensed and hands in an ironclad grip on the porcelain; the chips and dings on the side dug into the exposed skin of her hand, leaving small indentations and bruises from holding on for dear life.

Her chest was sore, her throat scratchy and hoarse, as each deep breath hurt worse than the last. In and out - what her therapist taught her. But she didn't believe her therapist had ever taught a room full of ten year olds, nor did she believe the professional would ever be stupid enough to do so. The deep breaths never worked. Filling up exhausted lungs with hot air could never be the solution to her problems.

Too many things to do, and not enough time.

For a moment she thought this was time wasted, bent over the sink heaving for air. Gasping and gulping for just a single, peaceful, deep breath. But she let the thought pass as soon as it came - she was always wasting time.

‘You're an asshole.’

‘I hate you.’

‘Why can't we do anything fun?’

‘Do we have to do this? Is this for a grade?’

‘Are your plans done for next week?’

‘What did you do for that child to act out like that?’

‘Remember your why.’

‘My child would never do that.’

‘You need to get a 70% passing rate or we'll lose our accreditation. We're counting on you!’

A never ending slew of questions, insults, assumptions, and standoffish statements landed her to the chasms of her own mind. Hunched over the bathroom sink, and fighting the urge to vomit. A swirling, dark, nauseating pit fell to her stomach like a rock in the morning and remained there all day; only now was she allowed to feel it. Only now, in the comfort of a rundown apartment bathroom, was she allowed to set the emotion free from a happy-faced facade that made her skin crawl, that felt wrong in every regard, and was a complete and utter lie.

She had gotten home five minutes ago, held the pulled taught feeling so strongly until the moment she stepped through the threshold. It was a crumbling tower from there on out. Cracked, broken, and out right destroyed as soon as she managed to push herself to the bathroom. Tears slipped down hot, frustrated, cheeks until the stream became a broken dam. Gushing and never ending - a nightmare to those in its wake. She cried in anger, in sadness, in grief - pure desperation to feel something other than exhausted.

She didn't hear the door open and shut softly, too focused on the task of taking a full inhale (that she never could get) to hear it. Didn't register the thud of a bag hitting the ground, or the confused call of her name. Her mind too warped with a sense of self loathing to even comprehend that there was a gentle knock on the door before it creaked open.

Her appearance was lackluster and bleak; jostled professional attire now wrinkled and blotted with tears. But Sugawara knew the feelings the woman felt all too well: a deep pit of loathing and wanting, teetering the line of desperation and outright giving up, just before the last crack feathered out and caused chaos and mass destruction.

Her eyes flickered up to the mirror in front of her, dusty and speckled with dots of dried water - neither of them had the energy to clean it in weeks, and locked eyes with familiar brown ones. Brown ones that swam and dipped in concern and adoration, feelings she wished others would look at her with.

She watched him look over her a moment, brows knitted together before his eyes softened. “Hug? Or not yet?” Asked softly, and in second nature. The pair had a prior agreement to leave the fleeting touches for later, when they both had time to settle back into their own skin. Nothing was worse than an argument caused by overstimulation, and words spoken in anger that could've been resolved by a simple question such as this.

“Hug.”

A single word was all the man needed to engulf her in warmth.

Sugawara taught second grade, while she taught older. And to this, she thought as if the lingering smell of crayons and glue would always be a part of him. Stitched into the seams of his clothes every time he got home, soaked into his skin the moment he walked in the door until he showered. But it became a smell she associated with peace, with serenity - with love.

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, like a missing puzzle piece that had finally been found. And he remained stationary, unwavering, as she closed her eyes and tried to hide herself amongst his sweater. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It'll turn into a two hour rant if I do,” she whispered, voice almost incoherent as she spoke into the fabric above his chest.

“You could go on for four and I'd still listen.”

She paused, and for a split second the nausea disappeared. His words flipped the breaker in her mind before it turned off once more, and the need to spill her guts punched her in the stomach again. Her hands gripped the wool fabric of his sweater tightly when the feeling returned, and fingers went numb as she remained tense.

“I don't know if I can keep this up, Kou. I'm so tired.” Her voice wavered and broke, another crack in her overall appearance that made his heart sink further.

“I know,” he breathed. “I know you are.” A blanket statement that he knew right down to the roots. An exhaustion that, really, no one could understand unless they too were in the profession. A tired that swam in shallow veins, and dipped into the psyche - driving one mad.

“Everything I do, and every choice I make is wrong to someone and I'm just so sick of it.” She groaned, “and I'm so sick of being told to ‘remember your why’ to legitimate concerns about something.” He hummed before she continued on, “I don't feel appreciated at all.” Her voice dropped once more, before she let out a shaky sigh, “by anyone.” She felt him rest his chin on her shoulder, and he let out a gentle sigh. Not knowing what to say to make the situation better, as he knew nothing truly would - a broken system would remain fractured whether he despised it or not.

“I appreciate you more than anything.” His voice was quiet, knowing if he spoke any louder it would rile her even more. “And I don't need a why, I just need you.”

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@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @aozui

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@angelichwv @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @crypt-0rchid

#hq x reader #haikyuu #hq #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara fic #sugawara x reader #hq sugawara #haikyuu sugawara #sugawara koushi #hq suga #haikyuu x reader #koushi sugawara x reader #suga x reader #suger <3

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uranometrias · 7 months ago

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don't forget to kiss me, jennifer jareau x fem! reader

★☆

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summary: in which jj has been into you for as long as she can remember. from your first day on the team she'd found herself utterly enraptured. she had partially assumed her adoration for you was merely a result of your personality, and the fact you were closest in age. seven years later, and she finds that her feelings towards you are a bit more complicated than she thought. which is why you being angry with her is even more gut-wrenching. pairing: jennifer jareau! x bau! female reader category: angst, unresolved content warnings: violence (reader smacks jj) love confessions. jj is kind of... self-destructively in love with you... you're disastrously oblivious + could potentially be unaware of your own feelings for jj. this is my first time writing for her, so fingers crossed her characterization lines up w/ canon. if not ? sue me :( author's note. this is my first time writing for jj, im so nervous about it. this can be read as an alternate universe for “you’re still a traitor” it picks up about a month or so after the court proceedings and reader has been ignoring jj , so she shows up at her house! idk why when writing for criminal minds, i always write jj with underlying feelings for reader… maybe because i actually like her a lot more than i initially thought (I’ve been a jj hater for years so this is a little jarring ) kinda spurred on by glue song xx unhappy ending, but room for a part 2

You hadn't been expecting any company, so when you heard a faint knock at the front door of your apartment, you were a bit confused. You were wearing a tank and boy-shorts, the weather in Quantico picking up to unbearable temperatures. It was impossible to focus with too many layers, and you supposed your choice in loungewear was a major sign that you were off duty. After the week you'd had, you'd become a bit of a recluse. Maybe "a bit" was underselling it.

You had wanted to be excited, happy, relieved even, that Emily was back. The team could be whole again, but your anxiety hadn't allowed you to. Instead, you'd found yourself feeling betrayed, angry, hurt. You lashed out at everyone, you didn't want to be bothered. You got to work earlier so that you could be the first to leave when evening came. When you were out on a case, you stayed glued to Rossi, Derek or Spencer. You couldn't meet the eye of the others.

Hotch, who had one point been your favorite person on the team, was now someone you avoided. There was some saying out there about 'never meeting your heroes', you felt that with this life changing reunion this quote had managed to sum up your life. You'd held him to such high regard, and had never expected him to lie to you. But he had, he'd done it without pause. And somehow he'd felt like the only person he needed to share this with was JJ.

That stung a little bit more. JJ was supposed to be your best friend. Even while she'd been gone, away working at the Pentagon, she'd been your rock. You couldn't count on your fingers and toes the amount of nights you'd spent crying your eyes out over the perceived loss while JJ combed her fingers through your hair and promised that 'everything would be alright.' In the grand scheme of things you assumed this eventual end was what she'd meant by that.

She had expected you to be okay. They had expected things to be normal, but they couldn't. After you'd been called into court to talk about the way things went down you'd become more of a ghost around the office. You had transfer papers hidden at your desk, and a ticking clock in the back of your mind. Maybe you were going overboard, being childish and stubborn, but you couldn't find it in you to care. How could you be on a team with people who lied.

After everything you'd seen, everything you'd been through together, they'd still chosen to lie. They'd kept you in the dark, because they thought they knew what was best for you. How were they any different from the higher ups that were constantly making decisions that put the entire team at risk? They weren't, and that's what sucked. You remembered when you'd confronted them with your feelings, they'd tried to pacify you with reminders of Emily's safety.

Somehow the fact that in their heads your grief was of little concern in comparison to Emily hurt the worst. You couldn't seem to understand the secrecy... especially since in the end, Emily wouldn't have managed to take down Doyle for good without you all. It felt like a waste of time, and when you'd placed your paperwork for a leave of absence on Hotch's desk, he hadn't had the guts to say anything. No one had said a word, they'd let you leave.

If it had been anyone else the calvary would've been out, but here you were on day ten of the longest break you'd had since you'd joined the bureau, and the only thing you had that proved you were missed were your unopened text messages from Penelope and Spencer. Penelope had been relaying messages for both her and Derek. Spencer had made you promise not to quit without saying goodbye. You knew how important it was to him, so if it came down to it, you'd give him that.

Still, your unwelcomed guest has grown impatient. They tap against your door a bit more impatiently, and you're climbing off your couch. Your slippers squeak with every step, and it's a bit funny, lightens your mood just barely. This hardly lasts, because the second you're swinging the door open your mood is dropping. Jennifer Jareau stands before you, looking more worse for wear than you'd seen her. She looks relieved when your eyes connect, you suddenly feel faint.

"Y/N." she always has this way of saying your name, like she's learning how to breathe for the first time, and before it was a symbol of your bond. "I'm sorry to show up like this, I didn't think you'd answer if I tried to call you." she admits, and you don't know how you look. You can't tell if she's receiving a bitter glare or something of the sort. All you know is how you feel. You feel like you're suffocating, like it's suddenly too hot. You feel like your clothes are too tight.

JJ is the one doing this to you. You're certain that's why you take a step backwards. She hasn't been at the profiling game long enough to mask the way you'd outrightly rejected her. "Why are you here?" you demand, and she crinkles her nose, almost like she's trying to keep from sneezing or something along the same lines. She honestly hadn't thought much of what she'd say. It had been almost two weeks since anyone had seen you, and she was going crazy.

"I just-" she exhales shakily, and you're about two seconds away from slamming the door in her face. "I wanted to see you." she admits, and you're unfazed, and visibly unimpressed. She'd waited almost two weeks, you were happy her guilt was eating her up. "No one's heard anything from you.... I just wanted to make sure that you were alright." she adds, and you take note of how she shuffles from foot to foot, nervous eyes jumping from one side of your face to the other.

She looks so unlike herself, not quite as bold and confident as you were used to. It's off putting, more than that though, it's a little suspicious all things considered.

"I'm fine." you insist, and you don't try to take some of the sharpness from your words. JJ's blue eyes are swimming with more emotions than you care to count in the moment. They're glassy, surrounded in dark circles and bags, she hadn't been sleeping. You hoped that wasn't on account of you, because in your current position you couldn't afford to be moved by her guilt. "And that could've been a text." you admit, and JJ winces. The drive from her place to yours was well over thirty minutes. She'd wasted her time.

"Are you going to hate me forever?" she asks, and you're at least offered the peace that comes with not finding anger in her tone. You were happy that at least she wouldn't be trying to make you feel bad for being angry. You don't know how to respond, because you honestly didn't know. You didn't know why you were so torn up about this, but you were. You couldn't look at her and pretend everything was okay, you couldn't go back to how things were before.

"Maybe." you mumble under your breath, and JJ looks so crushed. That manages to tug at your heart strings, you'd always been weak.

JJ's suddenly shuffling, digging through her bag. "Is that why you never said anything?" she asks, and she's holding your completed transfer application out towards you. It takes a moment for it to register, and you want to cower behind your door. Her gaze is so sharp, so crystalline like she was looking right through you. "Y/N..." and she says your name like she's the one who's been betrayed.

"You went through my stuff?" you counter, veering the subject off of your decision, and putting the focus back on her. "Bad way to go about regaining trust there, Jennifer." you say, and she flinches. You'd known one another for years, and you'd never called her Jennifer. You'd been calling her Jaige since you first became friends, what she wouldn't give to hear you call her that now. "I don't owe you an explanation." you add crossly, snatching the paperwork from her.

"Maybe not, but you owe it to Hotch." she argues like the know-it-all and little kiss ass that she's always been. "You owe it to the rest of the team." she adds a bit more gruffly, and you want to laugh at the hypocrisy. "You can't just spring this on them blind. If you're gonna run away at least have the guts to own up to it." she lectures, and you want to hit her, maybe grab her by her throat and shake her from side to side. "Instead of hiding out in your house like a child."

She gasps when you hit her, you think that you gasp too. You can't tell though, not with all the blood rushing to your head. You feel like your ears are clogged, and your eyes are wide, surprised at yourself. JJ's head is cocked to the side, cheek reddening as she gingerly clutches it. "JJ." and she supposes it's sort of a win. You weren't calling her Jennifer or Agent Jareau anymore. But her face stings, and it's starting to throb, and she thinks that she may burst into tears.

"It's okay." she says, because it kind of is. She was stupid in that way, willing to do whatever it took to get you back. Even at her own self destruction, and she supposed that's why she'd waited almost fourteen days to come see you. "Y/N/N, hey, it's okay..." she promises, and now it's your turn to feel guilty. There's this knot in your gut that pinches and twists and tightens. It steals your breath and makes you want to run and hide in your bedroom.

"I'm so sorry." You sputter, and your eyes are stuck wide open.

It's a good sign that you can apologize. Lucky you, you weren't as numb as you thought. JJ was still in your heart, maybe that meant Hotch and Emily were too. "I didn't mean to-" and you reach out for her, fingers ghosting just barely over where her cheek was starting to welt. You retract your hand at the last second though, you hadn't expected to actually hit her. "JJ, I'm so sorry." you reiterate, shuffling backwards, mostly so she doesn't touch you.

"It's okay." and you think maybe her ability to forgive you so easily is partially why you snap the way you do.

"No it's not!" you exclaim. "Nothing about this is okay, JJ." she jumps a bit at your tone, eyes flitting down the hallway. It was still vacant for now, which was good. "And just because you choose to forgive me quickly does not mean, I'm obligated to get over this now." you remind her as she pouts at you. She didn't understand why you were choosing not to forgive her. It didn't make any sense, it wasn't like she'd intentionally tried to hurt you. She hadn't had a choice.

"That's not fair." she exclaims, and now it's her turn to get aggravated.

"No, it isn't." you agree. "But, guess what JJ, it's my choice." the reminder makes JJ's face sour. Her heart though chooses

"I don't have to forgive you, especially when you haven't even actually told me why you're sorry. I don't want some apology that's just a means to keep you from feeling guilty about the fact that you fucked up, and you betrayed me." and it certainly sounds melodramatic. JJ's eyes are instantly rolling, and you feel a bit bad for your neighbors.

"You're treating this like it was some personal vindictive decision we decided to make." she counters. "It wasn't about you." she reiterates. "It wasn't about any of us." her voice raises just slightly. "It was about Emily." she sneers, "Do you remember her? Our friend." she emphasizes. "We did what we thought was best, Emily wasn't safe as long as Doyle was on the run, we wanted to minimize any chance of an attack." JJ proceeds. "We did what we had to for her." she adds.

"Don't you think we would've understood? We're supposed to be a family, JJ." you shoot back, and JJ's letting out an agitated sigh.

"We are a family."

"Give me a break." you're checked out of the conversation now, and you wonder how quickly you can shut the door in her face.

"What are you actually angry with me about, Y/N?" JJ presses. "I saw you that first day

You're telling me you're willing to throw away all your years at the bureau, all your years on this team, because of a decision that was out of our control?" she says, and she looks so disgusted at the thought. Maybe she was, it felt like the cowardly thing to do. Run away with your tail tucked between your legs instead of owning up to your feelings.

"I trusted you, JJ." you shout. "There's nothing deeper beneath the surface then that." JJ's eyes widen a bit at your outburst. "You watched me grieve for seven months. All while you got to sleep peacefully at night, because you knew the whole time that you hadn't really lost your friend. To you there was always an end to this, a day where Emily would be back, so not being able to see her for a little while doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things." you add.

"Y/N..." she begins and you shake your head.

"I think you should leave, I don't know why you came here." you mumble, and your hands on the door, ready to shut it in her face.

"Because I hate this." she answers sternly, voice raising just slightly. "And I'm tired of pretending that I don't." she emphasizes as your mood seems to worsen. "I-" she takes in a sharp breath. "I miss you, okay?" she exclaims. "I just want you to hear me out... for one second, and then I'll back off." she insists. "I'll leave you alone, and I'll accept that you'll never forgive me, but just... give me the chance to explain." you don't like to see JJ begging. It seems wildly out of character.

You think that's why you give her the chance. You nod your head stiffly, and she visibly relaxes, exhaling a shuddered breath.

"You have-" and her hands curl up into tight fists. "You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you." she exclaims, and you don't hold back with the visibly unimpressed look that crosses your face. "It's true." she deadpans forcibly. "And I know you can take care of yourself, you've been doing this profiling thing a lot longer than I have... but I couldn't rationalize putting you in harm's way, okay? I was trying to protect you." she explains, and she sounds desperate.

"I didn't ask you to do that." you shoot back instantly.

"That's the point, you never have to ask me." she cuts you off abruptly. "You'd never have to ask me to take care of you." and you note the way her turn-of-phrase has changed just slightly. "It's not something that I even have to think about doing, I just do it." she proceeds, and you blink a bit harshly, hand immediately moving to drag against your eye. You're sure on the outside it makes you look even more disengaged from the conversation.

You are listening though.

"I have known you for seven years-" her voice cracks, words slurring just slightly as she nervously gestures with her hands. Her eyes are glassy, but she still hasn't cried, you think that's just a part of who JJ is. Strong emotionally, unable to really let herself feel anything, she never wanted to look weak. You'd never expected such a front with you, even now when you were at odds, but here you were. "And-" she chokes on a breath, and none of your profiling skills seem to allow you to read between the lines. She would just have to spell it out.

She grows more anxious the longer you stare at her with an dry sort of expression. "And I've loved you for all seven of them." she finally blurts it out, and you feel it when a shiver snakes its way down your spine. "I just kept thinking about Doyle, and what he was capable of-" she proceeds to jump right over the confession. "I don't know how to be normal about you..." and it's lighthearted, it makes your lips twitch just slightly. "You're my best friend." she continues.

"And sometimes I just can't- I can't think straight... I go into this place where the only thing that ever matters is-" and her eyes widen just slightly before she's backpedaling. "I want to keep you safe, always." she insists. "You're my priority, you always have been, and I don't know what it'll take for you to trust me again, but I'm asking you to remember who I've always been to you, okay?" and her words are starting to lump together as she begins to speak much quicker.

You resist the urge to place a hand on her shoulder.

"And-and I just want you to ask yourself if I would ever do anything to hurt you deliberately." and you know, of course that she wouldn't. She hadn't. "Because I know that hurting you is the last thing I'd ever want to do. You purse your lips some, body leaning sideways as you press against the doorframe. You had a lot of thoughts swirling around your head, and many a feeling revving up in your chest. "I'm not good at this stuff." she admits, and of course you know that as well.

"But I'm asking you to let me make it up to you, I'm asking you to forgive me, and to believe that I only did what I did, because I was scared that you finding out about Emily would leave you open to danger." she pries. "I didn't think I had many options..." and her arms swing out, palms smacking against her thighs. She takes a breath that makes her chest heave. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, Y/N/N. I am so sorry." and she's trying to slow down her heartbeat.

Silence befalls the hallway immediately after, all you can really hear is JJ's booming heartbeat. She looks a bit crestfallen, and her face crumples up in that way that lets you know she's definitely about to cry. Still, JJ was the strongest woman that you knew, and you knew that no matter what, she'd wait until she was alone before she ever let you see her cry. She breathes in deep, back straightening as she fixes her posture just slightly. "I understand." and she curls her nose.

"I'm sorry for showing up like this." and she gestures to the space in between you both. "It wont happen again." she says it like a promise. "Bye, Y/N." her voice has grown a tad more glum, but you think you love her more because she doesn't beg.

"Bye, Jaige." and her chest fluttering at the nickname is a huge betrayal. Still, she couldn't deny how strongly she felt for you, even as you were crushing her heart in your hands. She watches as you stand back upright, stepping back into your apartment before you gently let the door shut. She gasps when the lock slips into place, and it's then that she allows herself the moment to shed a tear.

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"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Derek's beaming at you, pretty teeth almost glistening underneath the shabby bullpen lights. It had been two days since JJ had shown up at your house, two days that had given you ample opportunity to think and reel in all your emotions. You held two cups of coffee in your hands, you supposed it could count as a peace offering. A truce declaration if you needed to label it as something. The aroma was pleasant and definitely calming.

"You look good, sweetheart." and there's no flirting beneath his words. He genuinely looks pleased with the fact, and you're grateful.

Derek Morgan was as sweet a friend as any, and despite his macho-manly outer shell, he'd treated you like kin from the day you started in the unit. He didn't smother you or hover over you, he let you be exactly who you were, but never failed to watch your back.

"I feel good." you admit, and you let out a quiet breath. "I'm glad to be back." you add a second after, and you're placing your coffees down long enough to wrap him a hug. It's needed, the comfort of your big brother, who's immediately scooping you into his arms. He squeezes like he's worried you'll disappear the second he lets you go, and you can only imagine that word had spread about your desire to step down from the unit. "I missed you, Der." you admit with a quiet huff, and Derek bends his chin to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"And I missed you, but I'm glad that you got what you needed." he then leans back, arms resting on your shoulders. "You did get all that you needed, didn't you?" he questions, and your head nods. "Good. This place isn't the same without you, and it'll do it some good to have you back." he purses his lips, because he's serious, but the desire to grin is still so prevalent. "Make sure you go see Garcia, she'll have a conniption and kick both our asses if she finds out you're making rounds, and I didn't tell her." he says, and you grin.

"That's my next stop, I just need to give something to JJ." you say quietly, and Derek's got this know-it-all expression on his face.

"Certainly not that coffee you've placed on my desk?" he asks, and you let out a quiet giggle. "Because once it hits my desk, it's finder's property." he teases as your eyes roll. "You know that." and he's mainly joking, and you appreciate it. It reminds you so much of how things were before, it takes away all the first-day-back jitters you'd been dealing with since you'd woken up and decided you were coming back. Derek always seemed to know exactly what to do.

"You didn't find anything, smart guy." you huff. "But, since I love you so much, why don't you just take this one." and you gift him the one that was originally meant for you. "Taste and be astonished, sir." and he takes the scalding paper cup from your hand, and brings it up to his nose to take in a sniff of the cinnamony beverage. "Just taste it." you huff, and he chuckles, free hand raising in surrender, as he brings it up to his mouth. The first sip like clockwork has him groaning.

You didn't consider yourself a caffeine connoisseur for nothing.

"You are an angel." he compliments, and you glow.

"I aim to please." you retort with a wink, and you look around the bullpen in search of the blonde profiler. "Have you seen Jaige?" you ask as Derek's head nods, taking another indulgent sip of the drink he'd manifested.

"She might be in with Hotch." he shrugs. "I told you things were different without you, little bit." and you resist the urge to frown. "He'll want to know you're back anyway though, right?" he continues, and you're immediately nodding your head in agreement.

"I guess you're right." you hum.

"I'm always right."

"Just shut up and drink your coffee." with that you're grasping the other cup in your hand, ignoring the way Derek's chuckle chases after you. You're not quite sure you're ready to face your boss, and despite how vacant the bullpen remained (and you were nearly forty minutes early), you knew eventually you'd have to face Emily too. You wondered if there was still time to change your mind and go back home. You don't have the time to decide either way, because the second you've climbed the ramp, you're met with the sight of Dave.

"The prodigal daughter's returned." he expresses, hands extended out as if he hoped you would hug him. Your face feels a bit warm, but you're ecstatic as you take the four short steps towards him. You use one hand to loop it around his side, head leaning against his shoulder as he hugs you just as tightly as Derek had. "I'm glad that you're back." he says, and there's this undertone that often lied beneath Rossi's words. "Everyone will be." he seems to finish his thought directly after, and you're hopeful that the same can be said for you.

"I hope so." you admit, and you offer a small smile. "How have you been?" you question politely, not really sure how to go about getting your groove back.

"I've been good." he replies with a content sort of smile. "The bad guys don't ever seem to stop, but I'm good." he answers and you grimace just slightly. "I'm much more interested to know how you are though." he expresses, before he raises an eyebrow. "JJ came back to work with some very interesting news about your future here at the bureau." he says, and he lowers his voice, which you think is indicative of something. Maybe that she hadn't blabbed to the entire team, and instead had only mentioned it to Dave.

"That sounds like JJ." you reply with a huff. "I'm good, I'm back... I think that's what matters most, isn't it?" you question and Dave scrutinizes you for a moment, but nods.

"Yes, I'd agree." he replies, and you relax a bit. "Thirsty?" he looks down at the cup in your hand, and you blanche.

"Uh-" you look towards Hotch's door. "It's for JJ... Derek said he thinks she's in with Hotch." and you nod your head towards it. Dave offers you a contemplative sort of look, you don't understand why. He then gives you a small smile, almost one of understanding.

"Then I won't hold you any longer," he promises, and you relax. "I'm glad you're back, Y/N." Dave finishes, and you beam, feeling a bit better about your decision. He leaves you with that, heading back into his office, as you take the few short steps from his office to Hotch's. It seems like things are working in your favor, the second you're raising an arm to knock, the door is swinging open. You're met with the sight of blue-eyed JJ looking back at you and you gasp.

You instinctively take a small step backwards, as she stares at you in surprise. "Y/N/N?" she questions, and that seems to garner Hotch's attention. The older man's focus being drawn towards the door as well. "What are you doing here?" JJ asks, and your mouth feels incredibly dry. All you can really do is push your hand forward, cup of coffee resting against JJ's chest. She's quick to look down at the beverage that was steadily cooling.

It takes her a second to garner the focus to grasp it in her hand, fingers brushing against yours. "Good morning." you slur out, and then you're motioning to the coffee in her hand. "This is for you." you proceed, and JJ's eyes are back on the cup, perfect brows pushing together. "C-Can we talk?" you shift from one foot to the other, not quite nervous, but definitely apprehensive and unsure. "Just for a second?" you question, and she's opening her mouth to respond.

"Uh, Y/N." it's Hotch's voice that pulls you both from what could have been a moment. "Can I see you for a moment?" he questions, and JJ's bottom lip is disappearing, front teeth just lightly pressing into it as you both realize that you don't have time to unpack the last conversation you'd had. You nod your head slightly, walls as high as the ceiling as the air around the both of you seems to grow frigid. You don't look at her, and she finds herself more confused than ever.

You step into Hotch's office, and let the door click shut behind you. JJ holds the cup of coffee in her hand, and her mind reels. Was this it? Were you here to step down? Were you about to make the choice that would change the unit's trajectory forever? She doesn't want to wait around to find out, instead she's being pulled towards Emily, who's walking through the elevator with Spencer on her heels.

"Oh, hey! Is that for me?" Emily's teasing, hand held out for the coffee that JJ feels the need to tighten her grip on.

"Uh, no." she denies sternly. "This is-" and she looks down at it, takes in the way the side is scribbled over with that nickname you'd created just for her. 'Jaige', there was no heart, no other note that would be indicative of what your motives were. But the 'Jaige' said a lot, maybe you had started to forgive her, maybe her words had actually meant something. Even if she'd poured her heart out, and you'd stared back at her like it meant nothing. She ignores that last part though.

Maybe she does it because she's secretly a masochist.

Maybe she thinks she deserves it.

"Y/N got this for me." she finally says it, and Emily's eyes are shocked. Spencer, who was gearing up to offer a greeting seems to stop in his tracks at the mention of you. "Yeah, she showed up this morning... and she gave me this." JJ explains, her eyes turning towards the shadowy, looming, darkness that seemed to sit outside Hotch's office as the two of you discussed God knows what. "She's here." she breathes this out, and Emily's head is tipped a bit to the side.

"That a good thing, isn't it?" she treads lightly and slowly. Gauging JJ's reactions, she couldn't deny her slight annoyance towards you. JJ hadn't been shy about her guilt, about the feelings she harbored that you had so eloquently ignored. She knew that you were handling things in your own time, but JJ deserved better than that, right? She didn't deserve to be blamed for something like this.

"I guess we'll see." JJ retorts, lips pursing together.

"Y/N is here?" Spencer questions, eyes still wide and bright, clearly unfazed by the inner turmoil JJ was currently dealing with.

"Yeah, she's in with Hotch." JJ replies as Spencer's face seems to glow, a newfound vigor to his look as he smiles slightly. Spencer says something about going to see Penelope before he takes his leave, JJ and Emily suddenly left alone. JJ heaves, hand clenching around the cup for a moment. It's warmth was far from blistering, but it would still be hot enough to wake her up a bit. For some reason though she's not so keen on drinking it anymore.

"Hey, are you okay?" Emily questions and JJ nods her head. "You know you can always tell me if you aren't." the raven haired woman adds a moment later. "I know things between you have been kind of weird, and that's partially my fault-" JJ's immediately holding a hand up to cut Emily's rant short.

"It wasn't your fault." she deadpans. "I chose to keep it a secret. I did it because I understood the importance of discretion, even if she can't." and she's a bit exasperated, mostly just tired of all of it. "I'll be in my office." and then she's taking her leave, grateful for the fact that despite her year away at the pentagon, she was lucky enough to come back to her own space, instead of being delegated to the open space of the bullpen with the rest of the team.

When she reaches her office, she sets the coffee cup down, moving to sit in her chair as she prepared to start her day. She hardly has the chance to get comfortable, because she's quickly getting a notification from her cellphone with a message from Penelope asking her to come to her lair. She huffs, feeling the early beginnings of a migraine forming. This time when she grabs hold of the coffee cup it's to toss it into the trashcan on her way back out the door.

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"Hey." you look up, a bit surprised to be getting approached by Emily. She looks a bit contemplative, but polite, sweet as always. After your long talk with Hotch, you'd been trying your best to get back into the swing of things. There hadn't been a call for a case, so instead everyone was catching up on paperwork. You'd been immediately cornered by Spencer, who was visibly overjoyed to see that you were back at work. He'd even surprised you with a hug that managed to be surprisingly mood lifting. But you hadn't run into Emily.

You also hadn't managed to run into JJ either.

"Oh, hey." you say, and you think back on Hotch's words, about the severity of Emily's case. He'd even tried to school you a bit on the real nature of Doyle's crimes, you supposed that was his way of expressing just how pertinent it had been to keep Emily safe. You tap your nails against your desk. "What can I do for you?" and it's a bit formal, but it's still taking some getting used to, being this close to Emily, who nearly eight months ago you'd believed to be dead.

"Nothing." she replies, "I just wanted to know if I could talk to you?" and she looks a bit hopeful, but you also know Emily was a thinker, you wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if she had premeditated this whole conversation. "It will only take a second." she adds as if recognizing the discomfort on your face.

"Uh, yeah... sure." you agree, albeit reluctantly. You knew full well the unit would not be able to function with you choosing to behave like a brat. You'd made the choice to come back, which meant that moving forward with every member of the team was important. You move to stand up, and Emily's holding a hand out to stop you.

"No, please." she gestures back to your seat. "Sit." she instructs, and you listen, dropping back into your office chair. "Look, we're all real happy that you're back." she begins, and you feel a bit awkward. Mostly because it's all you've been hearing all day, similar sentiments from all the current members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Derek, Hotch, Spencer, Penelope, Rossi, and now Emily. It served to only make you feel more guilty for seemingly throwing the world's biggest tantrum over the last four weeks.

"Thanks, Em." you reply, and she offers you a ghost of a smile.

"I don't know how long it'll take for things to feel normal again for you, and I know this is... absolutely a crazy situation." she pushes her lips to the side as she finishes this, "All I ask is that whenever you're feeling a little too... overwhelmed or it starts becoming too much for you again that you tell us." she propositions. "It's like Garcia always says right? This team works best because we're a family. We trust one another... we've got no other choice, right?" and Emily pauses, seemingly giving you the chance to input with your own opinion.

"Yeah." you agree, and she visibly relaxes.

"JJ's a really great girl by the way." she says, and your eyebrows jump up. "And she cares about you a lot. Too much I think." Emily continues, and you shuffle a bit in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "Cut her a bit of slack, okay? Don't punish her too badly for this." she instructs you, and your face ticks, you're unsure if you're going to frown or scowl.

"I wouldn't." you insist, and Emily offers you a look that you know says she doesn't quite believe you. "And I don't really need you trying to give me the protective friend speech." you add a bit unimpressed.

"I'm not trying to lecture you." Emily counters, and you cut your eyes at her.

"So then don't." you huff. "I've got a lot of work to do... so if there's nothing else." and you turn your head back to your files, face screwed up at her. Emily scoffs, letting out one of those huffed laughs that escape from your nose. It makes you look back up at her, eyes narrowed as you offer her a look that said something that was quite frankly not appropriate for work. "What?" you snap.

"You're being unreasonable." she deadpans, and you think that's part of the appeal of your bond with Emily. You'd both always had the liberty to say what you felt to one another, no holds barred. "And you're being unfair. JJ told me what happened, okay? How many times are you gonna make her apologize? And how long are you going to hold it over her head? I know that we hurt you, but you can't use that as your excuse to keep treating us like we're dispensable."

Your jaw drops at the accusation, "I'm not doing that. I'm not the one that keeps trying to push the damn envelope. I left to regroup, and the only reason I came back was because JJ was the only person that had the guts to apologize and to-to be honest with me. I would never use my feelings about the situation as some rouse to get my way, I'm not a child, and I don't appreciate you insinuating that I'm that unprofessional." and you admit, it's getting a little tense.

Derek's eyes haven't left you since Emily walked up, and you know it's not because he's looking for gossip. It's because he knows if the two of you go at it, you could both potentially say something that would hurt each other. But he also supposed it all had to come out eventually, Spencer's seemed to disassociate. His eyes haven't left his book, even as your voice picks up a bit of volume. Lucky kid.

"She told you that she was in love with you, and you shut the door in her face." Emily exclaims, and she's stern, but also certain to lower her voice. JJ wasn't subtle about her feelings for you, but that didn't mean she wanted it as something for the Unit to talk about. Emily watches as your face screws up, clear confusion swirling in your eyes as you shake your head involuntarily.

"Emily, what the hell are you talking about?" you demand, and Emily's face ticks.

"The other day..." she begins, and she's blinking rapidly, her own confusion starting to catch up to her. "When she went to see you?" Emily trails off, and your face pinches up even more, like you had no idea what she was talking about. "When she-" and she trails off.

"No. No she didn't." you deny. "She told me that she loved me, yeah... but JJ always tells me that, and it certainly wasn't like she was confessing secret feelings for me." you deadpan. "She told me why she lied, and she asked me to think about it, and see if I could forgive her. I did, I thought about it, and that's why I showed up today..." you continue, and there's no malice behind your words, it's only that same confusion from before. "Why would you think she was in love with me, Emily?" you press, and your head tips to the side a bit.

"I-" and she's floundering. JJ had made it so clear to her, she'd been so devasted by what happened. How she'd put her heart out there for you, and received absolutely nothing back. But looking at you now, there were no signs of deception, nothing that would prove that you'd willingly ignored a love confession. "I think you should talk to JJ." she retreats, suddenly feeling like she was majorly overstepping. Her annoyance towards your behavior disappears instantly.

This was all a misunderstanding, and you were painfully oblivious.

"Emily?" your confusion triples, watching as the raven haired woman takes off, ignoring the call of your name and serving to put you in a more sour mood. Your foot taps against the ground for a moment, looking over your shoulder at the only person in the unit besides you that could be considered exceptionally close to JJ. "Hey, Spence?" you call, and he's looking up at you instantly. You wave him over, and watch as he puts his bookmark in his book before standing up.

He passes Derek, who's settled back into his own work now that the tensions have declined. When he reaches your desk, you're reaching over to pull another swivel chair up beside you. He takes the hint, sitting down in the seat as you put on your best pleading face, it may have been a bit unethical, but damn it all, if you weren't confused now. "Can I ask you a question?" you plead, and Spencer's new haircut is cute, it fits him, makes him look more like the grown man he is, and not the little kid he'd been dubbed as by the rest of the team.

"You sort of just did." he tells you and you exhale, not out of annoyance though. It's humorous the way you walked right into that one. He's beaming at you, proud of it all, before he clears his throat, using a hand to gesture for you to continue with your real question.

"Do you have any idea why Emily would think that JJ was in love with me?" you question, and the thought is stuck on repeat now that it'd been brought to your attention. You hadn't really taken her words from the other day as some indicator that she held deeper feelings towards you. You watch the way Spencer's eyes widen, before he sets his face, allowing it to rest in a more relaxed expression. He was about to deflect or lie, either way you'd already gotten your answer.

"I think everyone's entitled to their theories and hypotheses..." he offers, and you roll your eyes. "Emily might have noticed something about JJ that led her to that sort of... conclusion." he adds, and your head tips to the side. "But, the only person who'd really know is JJ. Why don't you just ask her?" he offers, and his lips push to the side, almost like he's worried it was the wrong thing to say. Classic Spence.

You lean forward and plant a kiss on his forehead, "Thanks, Spence, you're the best!" you mumble as you stand to your feet, making your way across the bullpen to find JJ's office. The walk is short, and soon enough you find yourself hovering outside of the cracked door. It was a sign that she was sitting inside. You didn't really know how to go about this, on the one hand if it was all a big misunderstanding that'd be a bit embarrassing. On the other hand though, how were you supposed to deal with the fact that your best friend was into you.

For so long the Unit had remained a safe haven from things like crossed boundaries and inappropriate relationships. Of course there were those that toed the line (You still believed that Spencer and Elle had fooled around in the weeks leading up to her departure) and others had crossed the line (Penelope and Derek) but things had never gotten so intense. There were no weddings, dates, children between any of you. You all understood the importance of separation. How could you manage and sustain a relationship like this?

How would things change if one day someone felt that they weren't getting enough? You all had at one point or another prioritized work over your social life, and you all had seen exactly what a life like that led to you. It led to divorce and breakups that only appeared civil, but were really irreconcilable beneath the surface. Still, you push that all to the back of your mind, hand reaching forward to knock on the door. You take a small step backwards, giving her a chance to answer.

"Come in." she calls, and you take a deep breath before you push the door open. JJ's eyes widen the second she takes you in, and you wonder whether or not this was your smartest idea. "Oh..." and she immediately stands up from her chair. "Hey, is everything okay?" she asks, and you're finally stepping inside, shutting the door behind you. It closes with a soft click, and the air suddenly feels charged.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Of course." she replies, "What's up?"

You think about starting off with a bit of small talk, hoping to ease into the obvious hard part with a bit of a buffer between you. You decide against it at the last minute. "The other night when you told me that you've... loved me for all seven years we've been friends, what exactly did you mean by that?" you pry, and JJ's face is immediately showing off her shock. Her eyes are wide, mouth dropping just slightly as she gaped at you.

"W-What?" she stammers, and you offer her a blank stare.

"It wasn't a difficult question, Jaige." you tell her and she doesn't really know how to respond. "Emily said-" and JJ's eyes are rolling, only because she couldn't believe that Emily had decided to confront you and turn it into an entire ordeal. You weren't obligated to reciprocate her feelings, and she really didn't need anyone fighting any battles for her, especially when she had already begun to make peace with moving on.

"Emily shouldn't have said anything to you, okay? After I left your house, I'll admit I was upset... but-" and she exhales, "You don't have to overcompensate for not feeling the same way by... bringing me coffee, and-and trying to relive that confession, okay? It's only going to hurt the both of us." she tells you sternly, and now it's your turn to be shocked. "It was really stupid of me to even mention it to you then, so we can just forget about it, okay? I'm happy you're back, but if that's it-" and then she's motioning to the door.

"JJ, I didn't know that you were confessing to me." you tell her. "Do you actually think I would've shut the door in your face if I did?"

"You know what? I actually don't know. I mean, the last few weeks we haven't exactly been seeing eye-to-eye." she reminds you, "And it's not like anytime during that conversation you ever gave me anything to work with." she reminds you. "You just did what you always do." she proceeds, and you scoff, growing offended.

"What I always do?" you hiss.

"Yeah, what you always do." she reiterates. "That thing you do where you pretend that nothing matters at all. Like you're just this impenetrable wall that feels nothing, isn't bothered, doesn't care." she says, and you're surprised to know that she thinks this about you. "Y/N, you're a profiler, isn't the whole point that you see the things other people don't?" she presses, "I mean, I don't know how much more clearer I can get. I told you that you were my priority, that doesn't exactly scream you're my best friend." JJ crosses her arms.

"We're not supposed to profile each other." you counter, and you think in a way this is you deflecting again. You didn't know what to say, you didn't even really know how you felt. She shoots you a dry look.

"Okay, Y/N, maybe we aren't." she says with a deep breath, and a tired expression on her face. "I don't really know what you want from me..." and you're taking a small step backwards,

"I'm just trying to understand-" and she's cutting you off instantly.

"There's nothing for you to understand." she snips, and your attitude towards JJ is back, your face screwed up.

"Okay then." you snap, and JJ seems to notice her mistake, her eyes instantly softening, but you both know that it's much too late now.

"Thank you for the coffee..." she gripes, almost like it hurts to say the words, "But I think maybe it's best if just for a little while, we give each other some space." she looks down at the ground. You blink, and you think you might burst into tears, your face and neck scalding hot.

"Is that what you want?" you question, and you ball your hands up into fists at your side.

"Yeah, it is." she agrees, though she doesn't mean it.

"Fine." and before she can really wrap her head around this decision, you're storming out of her office, allowing the door to slam shut behind you. It's childish really, but you can't find it in you to care. The excitement you'd felt that morning at the thought of reconciling with your friend was long gone. All that was left was the knowledge that JJ was supposedly in love with you, and the fact that you liked her a lot more before you found out.

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bones4thecats · 4 months ago

Note

you can do, Zamasu x wife Amane reader, Both have quintuplets, in the universe where Black Goku is, he killed the reader and her two daughters leaving only three alive in his universe, and he wants to keep the reader of the original Zamasu

Amane! Reader; Make the Clock Reverse

Characters: Zamasu and Goku Black Requester: @zinnia1506 A/N: Sorry this took so long, ideas kept making me change it up. But, I hope you like this! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Fighting, physical abuse, arm getting cut off, and death ⚠️

Disclaimer: This is set with a timeline separate from the canon one

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Zamasu and Goku Black ════════════════════╝

🔥 You heard your front door open, making you look upwards in confusion. Your husband, Zamasu, was currently out in Universe 10 with his teacher, Gowasu, to observe the mortals for the day, while three of your children were hanging around Romsshi and Kusu. So, the sound made no sense

🔥 Grabbing the towel next to the sink, you dried off your hands and turned around to great whomever came inside. The only people who had access to your home were the other Gods of Destruction, their Angels, the Supreme Kais, Grand Zen'o, and Daishinkan

"Pardon the mess, my oldest have been messing around with their powers more."

"Oh, that's of no issue, my love."

🔥 That voice was not someone that you knew...

🔥 Looking up in shock, the towel you held fell to the ground. Fear in your eyes was obvious as you staggered back. There stood a mortal, but he was not a human, no, he was a tail-less Saiyan. But this Saiyan had a far different aura than a normal one

🔥 Your back hit the counter-top as the mortal walked up to you slowly, his arms opened widely as you shivered in fear

"Who are you?!"

"It's me, Y/N. Your husband."

"You're not my husband!" You screamed, grabbing a knife and launching to stab the man.

🔥 Goku Black dodged the attack and gripped your wrist, pressuring it to the point where you screamed in pain. You fell to your knees as your two oldest daughters ran inside the room in confusion and shock

"Mom?! What's going on?!"

"My children..."

🔥 The possessed-Saiyan dropped you onto the ground before slowly walking over to your daughters, kneeling before them to look into their eyes

"Stay away from them..." You said.

"Shut it, woman."

🔥 You gritted your teeth as he looked back at the girls, raising his hands to brush their hair behind their ears. But, before he could touch them, a blast caused him to go flying across the building and through three walls

🍵 Looking back at the door Goku Black had come in through, you were shocked to see Zamasu, Gowasu, Beerus, Whis, and a similar-looking Saiyan standing there

🍵 The group walked inside as you tried standing. Gowasu ran up and grabbed both of your daughters, bringing them to you as he rubbed your wrist in pain from the near bone-crushing grasp the one male had on you

🍵 Zamasu looked at you and fell to his knees, raising his own hands to look at you and his oldest children's faces. He was looking for any kind of wound on you guys, happy that he couldn't find any other than the slightly-bad bruising against your wrist

"Zamasu, step back." Gowasu said.

🍵 The older Supreme Kai lightly grabbed your husband's shoulder, pulling him and his daughter's back as Whis bent his knees and held your hand, bringing his staff up to lightly hover over your injury. He smiled as the injury healed from his magic

"There, all better." He said.

🍵 You smiled at the angel and hugged him before turning to your children and husband, hugging the three of them as you heard screams from outside, alerting everyone to look at the hole in the wall

"Why you-"

🔥 A yell and crash made you look away from your family in shock. There stood the same Saiyan that walked inside the house, smoke coming off his form as he breathed heavily

🔥 He turned to look at you quickly, and he looked beyond angry

"You think just because you have them you're strong?!" He screamed.

🍵 Zamasu then stood and planted himself in front of you both. His eyebrows were furrowed as his mohawk lightly moved with the wind from the landing fighters

🍵 His right hand was then wrapped in purple energy, alerting everyone around to stay away from his swipe. As Goku Black sprinted towards him, Zamasu raised his hand and swiped down, slicing Black's own right hand off, causing a scream of pain to come out

🍵 Goku landed next to Zamasu and furrowed his eyebrows, he was obviously angry. But nobody's anger can reach Zamasu's at that moment

🍵 Beerus then grabbed Black's arm, gripping it tightly as to not allow the man to run away, raised his opposute hand in front of his face as said the scariest thing you could hear from a God of Destruction

"Hakai."

🍵 A scream again made you cover your children's eyes, and as they covered their own ears, Zamasu held you three in his own grasp whilst the other version of him became nothing but purple dust and then transferred into nothing. No cells left in the air. No nothing

🍵 As everything settled, Romsshi and Kusu appeared with your three other children. You smiled and hugged your other two daughters and son while Zamasu walked up and hugged you all once again

🍵 From a distance everyone else watched, but they also all wondered; why did Goku Black come after you and treat your children so delicately?

🍵 They were gonna need to do some more digging on this...

#Dragon Ball #Dragon Ball Super #DBS #DB Deities #DBS Villains #Dragon Ball x Reader #Dragon Ball Super x Reader #DBS x Reader #DB Deities x Reader #DBS Villains x Reader #S/O! Reader #F! Reader #Human! Reader #DBS Zamasu #DBS Zamasu x Reader #Goku Black #Goku Black x Reader

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zayne-li · 8 months ago

Text

Cross posted on AO3, may be edited in the future, it was written very shortly after the game actually came out.

Explicit, MDNI.

Zayne gets injured, MC saves him, and Zayne has very normal feelings about it.

Feelings like: femdom, etc.

"Zayne! Zayne! Can you hear me? Come on, get up, you have to get up, we need to go now!"

The world is fuzzy at the edges, and there's a tinny sort of ringing in his ears, but he hears his hunters voice. She's upset. Why?

Arms stronger than they should be tug at the lapels of his white doctors coat, dragging him up off the concrete, and he blinks hard several times. His head is swimming.

Zayne groans, deep and low as his awareness slowly returns, able to blearily look around and recall that right, yes, we were at my favorite sweets shop... And then...

"I know it hurts, Zayne, but I really, really need you to get up right now." That's her voice again, and then he can see her. Right in front of him, holding him halfway off the ground. There's blood smeared across her lips, cheek, and eye, and her hair is ashy with dust, no hint of the real color underneath it all.

It occurs to him that it's concerning he can't recall what exactly has happened. Was it Wanderers? Some sort of accident? A weak cough escapes him as his shoes scrape across the loose pebbles on the road.

Everything hurts. Like one giant bruise all over his body. But he is slowly regaining his senses. He does have at least that.

All around them is destruction: rubble and dust and shouts for loved ones piercing through the fog. The air smells and tastes metallic as his hunter helps him up onto shaky feet, hoisting one of his arms over her shoulder and wrapping the other around his middle.

"Can you walk? We need to get you to Akso now."

Her pupils are blown, and eyes wild. It's a look he hasn't seen on her before. Despite the pain and danger they are in, there is something about her in this very moment(maybe the blood, the adrenaline, this demeanor he's never seen before) that makes his gut clench.

Ought to dissect that later, he thinks. Then again, perhaps not.

"Akso?" His voice is rough, throat sticky with dust.

"Yes, you broke at least two of your ribs in that explosion, you need medical care, do you understand?"

His eyes drop down to hers, and he realizes just how much they are touching in this moment. All the way from their feet to her head, becoming a long line of heat down the right side of his body.

What timing, Doctor Li.

"I understand." He confirms to her, and plants his gaze firmly ahead of them, forcing his attention onto the task at hand rather than the way that look in her eyes makes him feel.

Weeks later he is still recalling that day, though who can blame him, confined to bed rest as he is? Three broken ribs and a full month of leave from the hospital, it's difficult to find ways to entertain himself.

Zayne closes his eyes and he sees her covered in sweat, that single minded determination carving deep lines into her face. If she'd had to, she would have dragged his limp body to the doors of the hospital. It was a look that told him, "I'm not losing you too. Not today." It was that look that had given him the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

It aroused him deep in his gut, somewhere he hadn't even known existed.

It was disturbing, in more ways than one.

He'd begun to have dreams.

Dreams of her coming home to his apartment, the door closing with more force than necessary, her dirty boots crossing through the kitchen with purpose. And when she found that purpose, she would have that same look on her face. In some of the dreams she'd still have blood on her face, and she'd lick the droplets away, just as she did while she labored to save his life that day.

She would grab him by the knot of his tie, stifling his surprise with a bruising kiss, plundering his mouth like a woman starved, using her unexpected strength to push him back against the wall, to cover him with her smaller frame. He would moan into her throat and her lips would curve into a smile against his.

One night, he wakes around four in the morning after dreaming of his hunters battle lust and he finds himself in an uncomfortable, sticky mess.

Zayne knows he loves her. He has since he was a boy, that has never changed, but through the years, his crush has waxed and waned, but remained fundamentally childlike. It hasn't been until they reconnected this past year that he'd even begun to let his thoughts drift to more unsavory places. And now... Well he determines that this new... Discovery of his remain well and firmly hidden.

Her presence in his life is too precious to waste with his depraved imagination.

After all, while he's been bored and cooped up in his apartment, with strict instructions from every person in his life to "Sit and rest, for once!" She has been visiting him almost daily. Usually not for long, as her own work keeps her extraordinarily busy(he supposes he's never noticed just how hard and much she works before, because he himself is often entrenched in his own), but always with an easy smile and some sort of treat for him. Chocolate, or cookies, one afternoon a little fruit tart from a vendor she passed on her way to see him.

Most of the time, it is no challenge for him to recognize that her friendship is far, far too valuable to risk losing.

Today, she knocks on his door, and when he opens it, he almost forgets.

She's a mess.

There's a fairly large, but shallow cut across most of her face, from her cheek down to her chin, her hair is pulled up haphazardly, the leather glove she normally wears is missing, and her clothes, though neat, have small tears across one of her knees, and her shoulder.

Zayne swallows before he greets her.

"Difficult day?"

She exhales a chuckle. "Just a long one, sorry. I was going to go home to clean up, but by then it would have been pretty late, and I was already nearby when I finished, so I thought I'd just uh... Drop in."

She's sheepish, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand, and Zayne forces himself to look away, making eye contact with the corner of the wall instead. There's a chip in the paint.

"Really, you needn't trouble yourself on my behalf, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You require rest as well as I."

What would it feel like, right now, to have her press up against him? Warm. Solid, he thinks. Would she grab him by his jaw? Turn his face this way and that?

He imagines how she would taste. Salty and metallic, he thinks, especially now. His hunter, shoving him onto his back in his bed, she would be impatient, barely taking the time to undo their pants before sheathing herself on his cock, using her palms on his chest for leverage to fuck herself as she pleased.

"Yeah, well then we might as well rest together, huh?"

She pulls him from his depraved thoughts.

Zayne realizes that the heat between his legs, if not controlled soon, will become a much larger problem(no pun intended).

"You have quite the knack for turning phrases, you know." His tone stays even, and he turns away, inviting her inside without another word, his excuse being the television in his living room that needs muting.

"And you never have this much time off. It's kinda fun, really."

He hears the click of the door shutting, and the turn of the lock.

"I brought you something, too."

Thud on the kitchen counter. Whatever it is, it sounds hefty. While he pretends to look for his remote, he adjusts himself in his pants, burning with shame for this predicament.

"What is it this time?"

"Brownies! Salted caramel flavored. They're my favorite."

She appears quite suddenly in the corner of his vision, and he jumps, feeling his face grow hot.

"Thoughtful as always." He smiles, and hits the mute button on another story of wanderer attacks.

His hunter frowns, leaning her body around to get a good look at him.

"Something's wrong. What's wrong?" Her tone leaves no room for arguments, and Zayne's eyes go a bit wide just for a moment.

"What makes you think anything is wrong? Other than my broken ribs?" He doesn't realize it, but he imitates her in the way he tilts his head. The mirth in her eyes makes his chest ache.

"You're blushing, Doctor Zayne." Her tongue pokes out from between her teeth with her smile.

"Perhaps I'm coming down with a fever." He counters.

She squints, but moves away, rolling not just her eyes, but her whole head. "Oooh-kay. Then perhaps I should leave, huh? Keep you from spreading your virus all over Linkon?"

His mouth opens, but he has no immediate response.

"Uh-huh." She oozes with smugness.

God he wants her. Whether in his dreams, or right now, either will do. He's wanted her for so long. And now she's so close. Zayne feels his entire chest go tight with longing. He wants everything with her. For her.

He wants her to be with him always. If he could put a tiny little hunter in his pocket and keep her there he would, just so he could pull her out when he likes to soothe the ache in his soul that she both creates and fills in equal measure.

He wants her just like this, messy and stinking of rain and sweat and blood, he wants her sweetness, her humor, her easy charisma.

And God he wants her to claim him. He wants the battle lust, her fingernails deep in his scalp, the stinging on his back. He wants her to take whatever she likes from him, his body, his soul, his everything.

"I wasn't blushing. You are mistaken." Somehow he keeps his voice even and calm, though inside he fights to keep from pouncing on her.

Down, boy.

Recognition flashes across her face.

And then a flurry of emotions he has trouble naming. Confusion, shock, and something else he can't define, but it reminds him of the day they were in that explosion, and she became someone he didn't know.

His hunter steps forward, further into his space, and on instinct, Zayne steps back, his swallow loud in the quiet apartment.

She must see something on his face. Fear, he thinks. And her expression of bewilderment changes as her gaze flickers rapidly across his features, first his eyes, his mouth, the bob in his throat, the fist clenched at his side, and then back to his mouth.

Her movements are slow as she takes another step forward, as if she's afraid to spook him, like one would a wild animal. She grabs the front of his shirt, and he swallows back a whine.

His hunter sees this too.

"Why haven't you said anything?"

"You frighten me sometimes."

Do I, Doctor Zayne?" Her eyes are dark, and she pulls him down to her, tilting her head just so, and holds him a hairsbreadth away from her lips.

He can taste her breath. It makes his knees weak. God, if you are there, don't wake me from this dream.

#lads zayne #love and deepspace #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year ago

Text

when satan falls in love

content + warnings: satan x reader, satan's in his demon form and his tail is Not Cooperating, fluff // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.4k

satan's feet drag along the floor as he journeys from the front door to his safe haven. he stopped hiding his demon form the moment he trudged through the door-- now his heavy footsteps and the ominous drag of his tail against the ground are what tell people to stay away. the barbs catch a little along the wood floors. lucifer will bitch at him again when he notices, but right now satan isn't the least bit worried about his older brother's opinions.

the door to his room shuts with a loud thunk! the bookcases shudder with effort, the disorganized book stacks groaning with a quiet threat of toppling over. the noise echoes to his high ceilings, then dies amongst poetic words and fantastical novels.

he collapses on his bed and groans testily. his tail flicks about, impatient, looking for things to destroy-- he knows if he gives into his destructive urges he'll only regret it later. he's lost countless tomes to a fit of rage, spent hours cleaning up his messes only to piss himself off more.

satan rolls over and closes his eyes, practicing his breathing exercises to calm himself down. what had him worked up this much, anyways?

lots of things. his brothers had been especially rowdy today, starting his day off with an unusually irritating breakfast. then he had a surprise quiz early in the day. at lunch, you were whisked away by lord diavolo for some bullshit reason or another. he can still picture the apologetic look on your face, waving over your shoulder with a slight frown as you had to abandon him in favor of your responsibilities. pair that with a few hellish classes and another surprise student council meeting, and you'll understand why satan is particularly testy today.

damn. after all this time, he'd grown much better at making sure he could handle massive slights that pissed him off. it's the stacking of little things on top of each other that presses his buttons.

in truth, he'd probably be better if he'd seen more of you lately. lunch just seemed to be a tipping point in the drought of your love. how long has it been since he's been able curl up with you at his side? since he's gotten a moment to have a proper date with you? the tangled emotions only make his blood boil more.

his emerald eyes catch something unfamiliar at the edge of his vision. he knows the layout of his room top to bottom-- any minor changes to his disorganization are noted fairly quickly, regardless of what others might think.

there's an envelope peaking out of a nearby bookshelf. it's subtle, but noticeable enough when he believes he was intended to find it. his first instinct is to be angry. who the fuck thought they were entitled to access his room when he was gone?

satan rises from his bed and angrily snatches the envelope from its hiding spot. he's ready to rip it in half in a destructive fit of rage when he spots your handwriting on the front. the fire inside of him settles to embers as his eyes follow the curl of your letters as you wrote his name. he could spot that handwriting anywhere. the "s" in his name swoops with grandeur, like you're going out of your way to be fancy, and he can't help but smile a little. he opens the letter carefully-- there's no way he won't keep whatever this is, all because it came from you-- and begins to read your familiar scrawl across a nice piece of stationary.

my beloved satan,

i've missed you! that's odd to say considering we live together, but... life seems to find new ways every day to keep us apart. it's weird to look back on my day and realize i've barely seen you. we barely get a peaceful lunch together anymore! there's always someone joining us or pulling one of us away before we can settle... i don't mean to sound clingy, but i don't think it's bad to want to have some alone with your boyfriend!

as i'm writing this, i'm cooped up in diavolo's office during a little break in some meetings. there's some trouble with some of their human world contacts, so i've been brought in to act as a "bridge" between the two. that apparently means sitting through lots of boring, professional talks and trying to pretend like i'm not about to fall asleep. barbatos made some really nice tea, though, and that's been my saving grace so far.

i can't wait until we find some alone time again. i've never found something more peaceful than cuddling up to you while you're reading and listening to you breathe. if i rest my hand on your chest, i can hear your steady heartbeat, too. you always tease me for being so sleepy and run your hand along my back, but who wouldn't fall asleep under those conditions? i just feel so at peace when i'm with you. nobody else can make me feel so safe and cared for. even when we're not together, knowing you're there for me makes each day better.

was it weird of me to write this as a letter? i hope not. you hear about people writing their lovers romantic love letters in the movies and books. i thought i'd give it a try. it's nice to have a physical reminder of someone's feelings for you. ticket stubs and stuffed animals are nice, but i wanted to give you something that illustrates my feelings more clearly. i adore you. you mean the world to me. i feel like it's harder to say things like that when you look at me, but here in the letter i'll say it as many times as i want to. you are my best friend, satan, and i'm glad to have you as my partner.

i hope this letter makes you smile. i'm planning on hiding it in your room, so hopefully it'll take you a bit to find it.

yours always,

so much for him waiting to find the letter.

in the quiet of his room, devoid of all distraction except the gentle whir of the air leaving a nearby vent, satan realizes he's in love with you.

his body freezes. for these past few weeks, he's intellectualized his feelings for you-- it's not love, but adoration. infatuation. lust, even. but no. he can feel the realization settling on his shoulders like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer.

when he was created, all satan would feel was reckless, horrifying, world-ending rage. it consumed him like a wildfire during a dry season, devouring any part of him that might be redeemable with the crackle of wild grass and the unforgiving heat. but meeting you changed him. his smiles were no longer plastic, but easy and natural. his irritation often simmered in his chest instead of exploding from his lips as harsh words, now just huffs and sharp glances.

you made him better. he knows now there's more to him than wrath. every single positive change in his life ever since you came to the devildom was driven by you.

he takes a deep breath to calm himself. instead of wrath, he's fighting the flush creeping up the back his neck. he reads the letter again, then again, each time sparking something in his stomach that he had to push down.

love. so this is what it feels like, huh?

he's read his fair share of sappy stories, but they all pale in comparison to the real thing. it's unsettling for him to be bursting with positive emotion, but here he is. flushed, stiff, listening to the silence as his heartbeat pounds in his ears. it takes him too long to realize that his tail was swishing behind him, thumping against a nearby chair enthusiastically. that only embarrasses him more-- is he really so in love with you that he's wagging his tail like a dog?

originally, he thought to corner you right now and show you just how much he appreciates the letter. but with his body acting out like this...

satan takes a seat his desk, digging around until he finds some suitable stationary, a writing feather (pretentious, he knows, but he can't ignore the urge to be so traditional), and an inkwell. if you were exchanging letters to express your feelings, now, then expect him to write you the best damn love letter you've ever seen.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset // @katerinaval // @lurkingsnails // @chirikoheina // @all-mights-wife // @notareum

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #otome

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alice-angel12x · 9 months ago

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Born of Unkown Stardust

Ch. 4

summary: The angles formed the world and all mortal life from dust. One day from the unknown the angels came across bizarre dust, that seemed to have a will of its own. It refused to be molded and shaped to the angel's will. So they cast it aside, till a certain angel got his creative hands on it.

(bittersweet story) (platonic) Lucifer x (???) Reader x Sera

<-Part 3/ Part 5 ->

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

Yuu Cried out as pure energy flowed from them like a roaring river. The vortex thrashed and trashed everything in the room, as Yuu let everything flow. Sera watched in worry as the energy started to get stronger with no signs of stopping. The roof above the child threatened to give way, so without a thought Sera rushed to Yuu.

She quickly wrapped her arms around the crying child. But the energy rushing out of Yuu burned her skin as she held the child close. The energy was hot?... Cold? All she could tell was that hurt like Hell.

(Song You'll be in my heart)

"Come stop your crying It will be alright Just take my hand Hold it tight I will protect you From all around you" Sera sang, straining through the pain.

Yuu's thrashing started to slow a bit. Sera slowly and gently held the child's hand, giving it a small squeeze.

"I will be here Don't you cry

For one so small You seem so strong My arms will hold you Keep you safe and warm," Sera continued as the flow of energy started to weaken, very slowly.

"This bond between us Can't be broken I will be here don't you cry," She sang as Yuu slowly curled up close to her.

"Cause you'll be in my heart Yes, you'll be in my heart From this day on Now and forever more," As The angel sang, Yuu's cries became soft whimpers as the cortex finally vanished.

"You'll be in my heart No matter what they say You'll be here in my heart Always," Sera sang as she looked at the destruction around the room. She slowly walked out of the room to Yuu's room to tuck them in.

"Always," She finished as she gently tucked the blanket over Yuu. With that, she quietly turns to leave.

"Don't leave. Don't leave," Yuu whimpered in their sleep.

Sera paused for a moment and looked at the door. Yet her heart wouldn't allow her to go, not after what she saw. So with a sigh, Sera sat down in a comfy chair in the room and slowly drifted to sleep.

_________________________________________________

Crash!!!

Sera gasped awake at the sound of crashing plates. She looks over to Yuu's bed to see it is empty. She quickly rushed down to the kitchen to see. Yuu... Making Pancakes? How were they making pancakes? They're a child!

"Ah Sorry, Ms.Sera! I was making SorryCakes. But some pans fell over," Yuu said as they cleaned up the spilled dishes.

"Sorrycakes?" Sera asked with a confused chuckle.

"Sorry Pancakes. Cause I of that," Yuu said as they pointed to Sera's burns on her arms and torso.

"Oh, Well apology accepted Yuu," Sera said as she used her magic to clean the mess around the kitchen. "Did Lucifer teach you how to make pancakes?"

"I watched him, so I copied what he did. I got better at it when I had to cook for myself... When he left me...Alone," Yuu said as they placed the plate in front of Sera.

"Thank you," Sera smiles and takes a few bits out of the food. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. I think sad...Angry? I don't know, I just... I just want me Da," Yuu said weakly. "Was what Da did really that bad?"

"I'm afraid so. He has let Roo take hold of Earth and now her influence will reign over humanity forever," Sera explained.

"Why is that a bad thing? It only affects humans, and not us," Yuu pointed out.

"If only it were that simple. Humans are mortal and don't live forever like you and I. Originally when they passed on, their souls would join us in heaven. However now that sin has entered Earth, we can't accept bad souls into our realm," Sera explained.

"Bad souls?" Yuu asked.

"Humans who in life have done bad things, committing sin," Sera said slowly, trying the best she could to explain to the child.

"So if souls don't sin, and stay good. They can come to heaven?" Yuu asked slowly.

"Or at least lived a not-to-sinful life," Sera nodded.

"So If... If I help humans not be bad... And not sin. Can Da come back?" Yuu asked with slight hope.

Sera sighed sadly as she could see the gears turning in Yuu's head.

"I'm not really sure if it is possible. Lucifer's banishment was decided by the vote of the elder council," Sera tried to explain. But she could already see the gears turn in the young child's head.

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

60 Years Later

Suddenly a grand bell rang. A Human soul has arrived in heaven.

"What's that?" Yuu asked.

"The first human soul has arrived in heaven. Come, let go welcome them," Ser smiles as she holds her hand to Yuu.

"Okay," Yuu said nervously as they held Sera's hand.

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

The angels of all ranks stood at the pearly gates, all excited as they welcomed this first human. I've never seen them so excited before. Sera parted the crowd as I followed closely behind her to see this human.

And there he was standing in the middle of the crowd, who looked on in awe. Yet The human seemed really freaked out as he looked around frantically.

"Abel! Abel!" The human man cried out. "Where's my Son?! Where Is Eve!?"

"Son? Where is his family?" I asked Mother Sera.

"Wait right here okay," She said gently as she flys over the Human.

I watched as Sera spoke to the human, who was tiny compared to her. As She spoke to him, at first, he was upset and yelling. When suddenly he wasn't, he was quiet and sad. Only to quickly fly off somewhere, and no one followed. I hope he is okay.

So, Silently I followed this human. He flew off to some distant cloud to sit in silence. Slowly I inched my way closer and closer when he suddenly turned. Quickly spotted me.

“What? What are you? You don’t looks like the others,” Adam questioned.

“I’m… Huh… I don’t really know. My Dad created me,” I answered honestly.

“Why are you here?” Adam asked sharply.

“W-why are you sad. Is it because your family isn’t here?” I asked softly.

“There not, and it’s all because of that Bi-… S-Snake of a women’s fault,” Adam stumbled as he looked at me.

I wonder what he was going to say, and who is the snake Women?

“E-Eve?” I asked slowly.

“No! Lilith! I knew she was up to no good. I should have listened to my gut, and sent her away when she came back,” Adam said in anger as he passed back and forth.

"What did Lilith do?" I asked.

"She tricked my wife, and know she is condemned forever. When Eve out of anyone should be up here. Lilith and her stupid Angel lover screwed her over. Just to get back at me," Adam said bitterly.

'wait angel lover? Can't be right?' Then I remembered something, from the last night I saw Da. He was working on something. Saying that "she" believed in his dreams. And hidden behind his arm was a small red fruit, crafted and embued with magic.

"Did Lilith use a red fruit of some kind?" I asked slowly.

"Yeah an Apple," Adam confirmed but paused as he stopped to look at me. "Why do you ask?"

"That was my Da. I saw him working on it. But he promised me he wouldn't cause trouble! He promised," I said weakly. That promise is nothing known.

Adam just sighed in frustration as he randomly tousled my hair. He simply sits down and stares into the distance.

"Looks like you were also screwed over by Lilith. She screwed me out of being with my wife, Screwed Eve out of getting into heaven, and you out of a Father," Adam said simply as we sat in silence.

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

"Yuu! Yuu where did you go!" Sera called out as she searched for them.

As she looked around she spotted them, Adam looked up to see her. He turned to Yuu to turn their attention to Sera. The seraphim smiled in relief as she opened her arms as Yuu floated into her embrance.

"Thank you Adam for finding them," Sera nodded.

"No problem," He said plainly as he walked off.

As Sera carried Yuu away, she noticed that Yuu was still deep in thought. Very troubled thoughts.

"What's on your mind Yuu?" Sera asked.

"Adam said that Da was Lilith's lover... What is a lover?" Yuu asked.

Sera stuttered a bit as she quickly came up with a child-friendly explanation.

"Lovers is something that happens between two adults. When they love each other very much, they want to spend the rest of their lives together. And eventually, start a family all their own," Sera explained.

Yuu remained silent for a bit as they mulled over the information. When Yuu slowly asked again.

"So... Da loved Lilith more? And that's why he chose not to keep his promise?" Yuu asked, their eyes began to water. "Did... Did Da no longer want me? To be with me?"

Sera gasped as he held the poor child and they began to cry.

"Was it cause I couldn't make the world we said we'd make fast enough? I tried, I really Tried! I worked so hard," Yuu said as the tears started to roll down Yuu's cheeks.

"Oh, Yuu. It is not your fault. Lucifer loves you very much. But the love he felt for Lilith blinded him from realizing he had someone important home. He left you alone for days on end for Lilith. That was selfish of him," Sera comforted Yuu. "If only he slowed down to see how much. How far and beyond you went for him, to make a world for him."

Yuu hugged Sera tightly, their little arms wrapping around Sera's neck.

"Now, let's get lunch," Sera smiles.

"PANCAKES!" Yuu says as they try to wipe all the tears away.

"Pancakes? Didn't you have enough pancakes for a lifetime," Sera chuckled.

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

Meanwhile in Hell

Lucifer was able to create a safe castle within hell for himself and Lilith. Lilith slept soundly on the soft king-size bed that she shared with Lucifer. Sadly as the new queen slept peacefully, the king on the other hand was haunted. He thrashes and turns on his bed as falls into a dream.

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

Tags:

@@littleladydemon , @corvid007, @ellaprime7, @just-here-reading, @kyo-kyo1

#luficer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x y/n #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin sera #hazbin hotel sera #Hazbin hotel Sera x reader #hazbin hotel angels

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venus-haze · 2 years ago

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Baby Let's Play House (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: After noticing your exhaustion in trying to balance managing Homelander’s day-to-day and your relationship with him, he decides that you’d be happier behind a white picket fence than an office desk. You initially agree, but the housewarming party you throw reveals how differently the two of you view your relationship.

Note: This can be read as being related to My Destruction Is an Hour Late, but you don’t need to read that to understand what’s happening in this. Reader is a cis woman, but no other descriptors are used. First time incorporating Homelander’s perspective into a fic, also I took some creative liberties on how his costume works. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Homelander is his own warning (I never tag his stuff as yandere because that’s just how he is), but toxic relationship that includes possessive tendencies, gaslighting, guilting. Mirrorlander makes an awful, misogynistic appearance. Sexually explicit content which involves coercion/dubcon, oral (m. receiving), brief orgasm denial and choking. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Dating your direct superior was undoubtedly an ethics violation, but the trembling HR manager who signed off on Vought’s workplace relationship disclosure form couldn’t conjure up any protests when Homelander and you showed up at her office to make your relationship “HR official.” When you’d expressed concern about how dating him would affect your career, he scoffed, ‘What are you talking about? Babe, I am your career.’ You faltered under the weight of his gaze, knowing full well he could hear your heart skipping frantically along as you thanked him for his reassurance.

He’d resisted the idea at first, one you brought up almost immediately after you’d become his girlfriend and he gave you a promotion. He was The Homelander. He didn’t need Vought’s permission to date you. It wasn’t until you reframed it as a declaration rather than permission that he was on board. Stan Edgar could read the damn form and weep. No more publicity relationships, not when he had you. It didn’t take long for things to spiral out of control from there.

Your coworkers treated you differently, with a nervous politeness that was unsettling and isolating. Loneliness settled in soon after, almost as if by design. Suddenly, Homelander was the only one you could turn to, and by the nature of your job, he was almost always there, ready to fill whatever emotional void you needed filled, from co-worker to lover. He thrived off of your dependence, each display of it a hit that coursed through his veins. An addict in thought, he couldn’t get enough of you.

When he brought up this idea to you, not long after his grandiose proposal, you welcomed it. A cozy house in the suburbs didn’t sound so bad compared to the whirlwind of your responsibilities at Vought managing Homelander’s day to day on top of your relationship with him.

Now, as you walked up the pathway to the front door with the last of the groceries you’d needed before the housewarming party you were hosting the following night, the white posts of the picket fence that surrounded the house looked more like teeth rising out of the ground to devour you, red roses planted along the perimeter painted droplets of blood on the unhinged jaw. You knew it was never your choice.

Most of the time, things were good, and you and Homelander fell into a comfortable, domestic rhythm. When things were bad, however, there was nothing you could do but sit back and wait for it to end. That hadn’t happened in a while, and despite your excitement for the party, you could tell he wasn’t nearly as enthused. You foolishly hoped that the night you’d been planning for weeks wouldn’t end in disaster.

Almost as soon as you finished unpacking the groceries you’d bought, you considered what to make for dinner. Despite Homelander’s enhanced palette, he wasn’t that picky when it came to your meals. You wished he expressed some preference, though, since your Pinterest board for recipes was out of hand, even with your organizing it as best as you could.

“Hey babe,” Homelander greeted you with a smack on the ass, a domestic yet outdated gesture he favored upon seeing you in the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

He never used the services of Vought’s chefs after you and he began “going steady,” even though he did like their food more than yours objectively. Getting food cooked by a chef in an industrial kitchen and then brought up by an intern was too impersonal. You cooked with love, always adding a personal touch that made even the overcooked chicken cacciatore you’d served a few nights before worth eating.

“Do you consider soup a meal?”

“What is this, a Seinfeld episode?” he asked. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on the soup.”

“French onion.”

“That’s basically a deconstructed French dip. Sure, that’s a meal.”

“Perfect, I’ll make that, then.” you said. “I’m so excited for the party tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’ll be a blast,” he mumbled, leaning against the kitchen counter and folding his arms across his chest.

“C’mon, I get to spend the whole night showing off my amazing fiance and our incredible home,” you smiled, giving him a kiss on his clenched jaw.

His pouty mood cracked just the slightest bit, though he didn’t like how your attention had been all over the place in the week or so leading up to the housewarming party rather than solely on him. It was all you could talk about, and to add insult to injury, you’d started ordering him around far too much for his liking. You’d ask about his day as if it were an obligation to do so, a segue into ‘Pick up these streamers’ and ‘Remember to ask Jason and Patricia about their baby’ and ‘Tell Vought you need to be home by five.’

His biggest reason for even getting you this house and convincing you to quit your job at Vought was so you’d have more time for him. Even though your work schedule had been mostly dictated by him, you found yourself exhausted most nights, passing out in bed almost as soon as dinner was over. That was no fun at all.

Far too soon for his liking the next day, your stupid friends made their way up the street and to the house, bottles of wine and wrapped gifts in tow. He realized that he shouldn’t have left so much of the planning to you. To his displeasure, the guests were evenly co-ed. Though your hugs and greetings to the men who entered your home were polite and platonic, he didn’t like it. Not one damn bit. Who the fuck kissed someone’s cheek as a greeting anymore anyway?

He watched as you played hostess, a tornado of hospitality as you ran yourself in circles around the house to refill drinks and jump in on conversations. You looked like you were having the time of your life, and his gloved hands balled into fists at his side every moment your attention wasn’t squarely on him, especially when you were all dressed up the way you were. None of them deserved to see how perfect you looked.

Finally, he crept up on you while you were speaking with your old college roommates who’d asked you to give the details on how you and Homelander got together. He was more than happy to indulge them, his arm tight around your waist as he took control of the narrative.

The version of the story that left Homelander’s mouth almost made you choke on your own spit. Of course, it started at work, with you harboring a crush on Homelander for far longer than he’d even noticed you. Your persistence was cute, though, and soon enough you’d wormed your way into his routine. Curious about your infatuation, Homelander would make excuses to keep you in the office late, until the projects became canoodling. He’d finally asked you out on a date, and you graciously offered to cook dinner for him.

He’d flipped the whole thing on its head. You had helped him with one project, and in the months spent building up your reliability, he was the one who’d become infatuated with you, until almost your entire life revolved around him. His story was far more palatable, as evidenced by your friends’ expressions of congratulations and how lucky you were.

You supposed you were lucky in a way. Homelander made sure you had nothing to worry about, except for him, of course. His moods were increasingly volatile as he was slowly pushed out of the spotlight of The Seven. The glance he gave you, loving to the untrained eye, was a warning. Despite your hope that the housewarming party would open up Homelander to the idea of you getting a bit more social interaction outside of just him, it was proving to have the opposite effect.

Then again, he never wanted to have a good time at the party, as you dejectedly reminded yourself. It was a shame, your friends all seemed to like him well enough, even if you did catch him being backhandedly rude to some of them a few times that night. He was so good at pretending when it came to the fans he supposedly hated so much. You weren’t sure why he couldn’t put up a front for a few hours for your friends.

By the time everyone left, you were exhausted. Drained physically and mentally from the demands of the party and your fiance, you were glad you’d opted for disposable plates and cups. The little clean up you had to take care of was just manageable enough to take care of before you headed up to bed.

“Glad that’s over,” Homelander said, drying the charcuterie board you’d handed him.

“Why were you so determined not to have fun tonight?” you asked.

“Excuse me if I don’t find entertaining your idiotic friends fun.”

“Then you suck it up and pretend, for me.”

“Don’t—don’t pull that.”

“Pull what?”

“That ‘for me’ thing. Everything I do is for you,” he said, huffing before lowering his voice, his icy glare making your breath catch in your throat. “You don’t need them. You don’t need anybody. Not when you have me.”

“Homelander, codependency isn’t—“

“Don’t pathologize me!” he shouted, slamming his hand on the granite countertop which cracked from the force he used. Upon noticing your terrified expression, he drew back a bit, letting out an unnerving laugh in an attempt to ease the tension he’d created. “You almost made me lose my temper there, missy.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, wide-eyed as you moved to take a tentative step back from him.

He quickly grabbed your arm, keeping you in place. “I know you are, darling, but a love like ours–it can’t be put into clinical terms.”

Fuck. You hit that specific nerve. It took him a while to open up about his childhood, the real one, not the Midwest little leaguer who loved god, mom, and the good ol’ US of A, in that order. That story sold comic books, it was comforting to watch on screen, the warm apple pie with a scoop of melting vanilla ice cream. Not even born in a lab, by his own accounts, but dumped from a test tube and caged like any other animal used for experimentation. Except Homelander had been a boy, scared and alone as white coats filtered in and out of exam rooms and testing labs, poking and prodding. Though, torturing was more like it, pushing him to see the extent of his powers, whether their unbreakable hero was truly unbreakable. Then he was unleashed onto the world, the weight of it on his shoulders.

Something was wrong with him, psychologically at least, and you knew the unhealthy fixation on your relationship as his sole source of emotional fulfillment would have sent you packing if it were anyone else. Every time you considered leaving, as if you even could, you just as quickly thought of how scared and hurt the most powerful man in the world looked when he recounted every painful experiment he endured, the plethora of human rights violations that became so entrenched in his identity. The ensuing tug of empathy and guilt at your heartstrings made you stay.

Still, you had to let him know that you wouldn’t tolerate an outburst like that just because you’d had a lapse in judgment when it came to your phrasing.

“I think you should stay at your old place tonight,” you said.

“Babe, c’mon, the counter can be fixed. I’ll have someone at Vought call a contractor tomorrow and—“

“That’s not what I mean.”

“You still love me right?” he asked, desperately searching your face for an answer. “Right?”

“Of course I do, but we both need space to cool off.”

He huffed, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Fine, have it your fucking way. As always, babe.”

He stormed out before you could get another word in, you mentally sent your apologies into the universe to whoever would end up being at the receiving end of his wrath.

A few cars were lasered to smoldering hunks of metal on his way to Vought Tower. He didn’t care, the company had millions of dollars set aside each year for superhero-related collateral damage. After all, they weren’t even nice cars as far as he could tell. He was doing them a favor that’d go unappreciated, not unlike you.

Homelander’s arrival to his suite was devoid of any fanfare or announcements of his return. He was embarrassed to be back. Standing dejectedly in the dark doorway, he glared at every object in the room with disdain. It’d been a fine place to live before he knew any better, before he’d experienced what a home truly felt like. You’d once described it as like being in a museum, and he couldn’t disagree. At one time he thought it was to his taste. Now, the suite he’d resided for so many years without you felt cold, hollow, and unfamiliar.

He looked out on the city, rage boiling in his veins. Things were fine when it was the two of you against the world. Your shitty friends had to come in and ruin that. No matter how hard he tried, it was like you refused to listen to reason and see that he did everything because he loved you. He loved you so much it hurt.

“Now this is really pathetic.”

“You saw how pissed she was.” Homelander argued weakly against his sneering reflection.

“She’s a woman. That’s their default state when they’re running the show.”

“She’s not running the show.”

“Really? So that’s why you’re banished to the proverbial couch?” his reflection taunted.

Homelander swallowed the lump in his throat. “What do you suppose I do, then? Flowers? A box of chocolates?”

“No. That’s practically admitting you did something wrong. Do you remember how you got her in the first place? You didn’t ask. You took.”

Homelander nodded along as his reflection spoke.

“What you do is remind her who’s in charge. You’re the man of the house. Take the respect, the devotion, you deserve.”

You awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to a figure standing at the end of your bed. At first, you thought it was a dream, until the figure began to move. Turning on the lamp on your nightstand, its soft glow illuminated your side of the bed, casting shadows over your fiance’s face.

“Homelander!” you gasped. “Oh my god, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he said.

“You know what I mean.”

“You know the old saying, ‘Don’t go to bed angry.’ I already forgive you for tonight, but things need to change.”

“I need you to leave.”

“You don’t call the shots, babe. I’ve been way too lenient with you,” he said, a dangerous grin spreading across his face. “Think you need a reminder of who’s in charge here.”

“Honey, what’s this about? You know I love you.”

“Sure, but you don’t respect me.”

“Of course I respect you—“

“No, you don’t. By the end of the night, you will,” he said, before beckoning you over to him with a curl of his index finger. “C’mere, sweetheart. You haven’t even welcomed me home yet.”

You felt his eyes practically burning a hole through you as you silently complied, pushing back the covers you’d been bundled under and padding your way across the room to where he stood. He somehow loomed over you, stony-faced like a marble statue honoring a god with disdain for humanity. His eyes glistened as he took in your face, though, betraying the whirlpool of emotions that rushed through him whenever he was in your presence.

Dozens of dresses and lingerie sets had been casualties of his lust and strength, the material torn from your body like gift wrap and promptly replaced within a few days. This night was no exception, as with a flick of his wrist, your satin nightgown was a pathetic pile on the floor.

Though you expected as much, he captured your lips in a heated kiss that almost made you lose your balance with his intensity. He held you close, his arms wrapped around you the way old tree limbs twist and tangle around objects left in their course, time and nature making it impossible to separate the two without irreversible damage to both.

“John,” you whispered against his lips.

There were plenty of men named John. It was a disgustingly common name, chosen for him by Vought to give him that relatable, everyman persona. Bullshit. He wasn’t an everyman. He was a god. People praised and worshiped Zeus, Jupiter, Jesus, Homelander—not fucking John.

Whenever you used it, though, suddenly the name was his. His. Not some stupid placeholder the white coats gave him instead of “subject whatever.” He was grateful you couldn’t sense the crack in his facade, his heart skipping a beat at how lovingly you said his name. How could you ever expect him to want to share that? Reluctantly, he pulled back from you, releasing you from his embrace. He still had a point to make.

“Get on your knees.”

You looked almost confused by his words.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warned.

Slowly, you knelt on the shredded satin that lay at your feet, and with trembling hands unbuckled his belt, avoiding eye contact with the eagle that adorned it as if the metal bird of prey were judging you. You tried telling yourself there was no reason to be nervous, you’d given Homelander plenty of blowjobs before, but his mood was always much, much lighter when you did.

When you pulled down the spandex pants of his suit that was practically painted on him, you were greeted with an eye full of his hardening cock, already leaking with precum when you took it in your hand, eliciting a moan from him that seemed to echo through the bedroom. You stroked his cock, leaning in to give a teasing lick to the head that made his breath hitch.

“You like that baby?” you asked. “Do you want more?”

He whined, struggling to respond as you pumped his hardening length.

“C’mon, baby, use your words and—“

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped, grabbing you by the root of your hair and shoving his cock in your mouth.

You gagged, trying to adjust yourself to the sudden change. Although, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to how big his cock was. The bulge in his suit certainly wasn’t compensating for anything.

“Go on, put that smart little mouth of yours to good use,” Homelander said, fingers still tangled in your hair as he tugged at your scalp. “Or are you so helpless without me that you can’t even suck a cock on your own?”

With a whimper, you did your best to massage his length with your tongue, taking as much of him as you could, though you never managed to fit all of him in your mouth. It wasn’t without a lack of trying. You gagged again, and this time he seemed to bore of your struggle and instead began fucking your throat at a merciless pace.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re it. You’re the only one for me. Why don’t you—fuck—get that?”

Your response was a garbled choking noise as you placed one hand on his thigh to steady yourself. The other reached out to fondle his balls, prompting an erratic thrust from him that nearly knocked you over. As unpredictable as Homelander could be, if you thought too much about how much self control he used to not accidentally kill you whenever the two of you were remotely intimate, your brain would start to feel fuzzy. Or maybe it was the way you couldn’t seem to catch your breath.

When you looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, he was barely able to keep his own open. Blonde hair flopped across his forehead, he looked at you with hooded eyelids, the faintest smirk flashing across his face before he groaned again, throwing his head back.

He never lasted all that long to begin with, woefully sensitive and touch-starved despite his experience. Normally, you found it endearing, but tonight you were grateful as you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle his mercilessly fucking your throat.

With another involuntary thrust, his cock twitched against your tongue. You struggled to swallow his cum that was pumping into your mouth. Some of it mixed with spit as it dribbled from the corners of your lips down your chin.

As Homelander pulled his cock from your mouth, he observed your ruined state—disheveled hair, puffy lips, tears tracked down your face. Pride filled his chest as he watched you try to catch your breath. He’d never pushed you quite this far before, and he wanted so much more.

“Messy little thing, huh?” he asked, swiping what had escaped your lips on his thumb and bringing it to your mouth.

With a shaky sigh, you wrapped your lips around his finger, weakly sucking the residue from it until he was satisfied, pulling it from your mouth.

He smiled, caressing your cheek with his wet thumb. “That’s my girl.”

You hummed in response, the most you could manage with how sore your throat felt. It was good enough for him, because he offered you his hand, pulling you up from your knees with ease. His gentleness as he laid you back on the bed felt almost foreign compared to his ruthlessness just minutes earlier.

The reprieve was short-lived, however. As soon as he shed the rest of his suit, he pounced, his eyes betraying the intention to devour you whole. Animalistic, manic, from his predatory gaze to the prominence of his canines, he could rip your throat out if he wanted to. There was no point in trying to conceal your concerning arousal at the thought, even if he hadn’t reached between your legs to feel your wet pussy, he could smell it on you from a mile away.

He licked his lips, leaning over you as he teased your clit while sliding his cock inside you.

“Oh my god,” you moaned.

Homelander grinned, rolling his hips against yours. “I know I am.”

He’d been aggressive in bed before, usually due to jealousy or possessiveness. The way he moved was far more calculated than impulsive, as if each thrust intentionally pushed you closer to climax as he rubbed circles on your clit instead of just him releasing pent up frustration and insecurity.

“You love taking it all, don’t you? Love the way I fill you up?”

His mocking tone went straight to your pussy, and you could hardly manage a coherent response as he pounded into you. Even then, it didn’t feel like enough, as you bucked your hips to get more of him.

He was studying you, observing every contortion of your face, feeling the way your wet pussy clenched around this throbbing cock as he thrust into it, the sound nothing short of obscene as it echoed with your desperate moans. Then, just as you were about to orgasm, he moved his hand away from your clit and pulled out of you so quickly, you almost started crying.

The look of hurt and betrayal on your face gave him conflicting feelings, but the one that won out was a smug superiority. He’d never loved anyone as much as he loved you, and it seemed like this ‘tough love’ approach was working. He wrapped his hand around your sore throat, his cold and intense stare as he leaned closer to your face sending a shiver down your spine that he could surely feel.

“You don’t come unless I say you can. You got that, sweetheart?” he asked, voice dripping with condescension.

You nodded weakly, a pained whimper trapped in your throat. As soon as he gave you a wicked grin in return, you knew that he wanted you to give in to your base desires like humans do. With so much of his life spiraling out of his control, he wanted to be sure he didn’t have to worry about you.

He released his vice grip on your throat, and, as if reading your thoughts from just a few minutes prior, leaned down, pressing a kiss to your neck before grazing his teeth down the tender flesh, feeling your racing pulse’s vulnerability.

“John,” you breathed, your voice inaudible to anyone but him.

“I know, darling. You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Please,” you whimpered, “please.”

“It didn’t have to be this difficult, you know,” he mused, his fingers playing with your sensitive clit.

You choked out a sob at the almost painful feeling of overstimulation. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not that hard to be good for me, is it? To just do as I say?”

“No.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to remind you again,” he said, his voice soft and low as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

The emptiness you felt between your legs was soon filled again by his cock.

You fell limp at this point, no movements in an attempt to match his thrusts. His reflection had been right, he just needed to take what he wanted and remind you who was in charge. He was in control, all you needed to do was lie back, look pretty, and take it. You should be thanking him for making things so easy for you.

He kissed you, reveling in how sweetly you moaned in his mouth now that he had you exactly how he wanted you. Your heart was racing, he could tell you were getting close, and he was too, but he wanted you to come first, to be the one to fold and give in to him completely.

“It’s all right now, darling. I’ve got you,” he whispered.

It felt like all of your muscles tightened before your release, your hips rocking involuntarily as your orgasm rippled through your body. The pent up pleasure was almost too overwhelming, and you had to grab his bicep to ground yourself, digging your nails into his skin. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like you could break it anyway.

With the way your pussy squeezed his cock as you came, an unhinged moan and tears and vision clouded by stars, his own orgasm followed soon after. He never bothered with the pretense of pulling out. Filling you with his cum was right, it was natural, another way to lay claim to you. He hated condoms, but he knew his next course of action would be doing something about your pesky birth control soon.

You winced as you moved closer to his chest, allowing him to hold your body against his. Your muscles ached, and you knew that in the morning you’d hardly be able to move at all. It wasn’t uncommon with Homelander, and he loved your dependence on him on those mornings when he’d carry you from room to room, a reminder of his strength. He was the most powerful man in the world, you might as well have been a feather.

“How’re you holding up babe?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said softly.

He smiled, stroking your cheek. “I’m glad we’re on the same page now. It’ll make things so much easier, babe, you’ll see.”

You gave him a weak smile before closing your eyes, knowing fully well that he could hear by your thumping heart that you were faking sleep.

#homelander x reader #the boys x reader #homelander x you #the boys x you #homelander imagine #homelander #the boys

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leclercss · 1 year ago

Text

Tainted Love, Part 4 (Charles Leclerc ft Lewis Hamilton)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: thank you guys for the love for this story so far. i'm hoping i can keep it exciting and enjoyable. pray for my creativity x

word count: it's a longer one, 6.4k

taglist: @ironmaiden1313, @ru-kru, @buendiabebeta, @flwr-quicksilver, @ravioli19, @julesandro, @hornedravenclaws, @thatobsessedreader @pinkangelavenue, @queenofshinigamis, @notleclerc, @paullinne, @bisexualbith, @strolleclercs, @cl16gf, @estapa94, @yunnie-f1, @headinthecloudssblog, @girlintheredscarf, @taylenas2

Now that you had broken a rule in your and Lewis' arrangement, you were expecting all-out warfare and destruction. So far your predictions were wrong, all you had gotten was the silent treatment.

In your short war against Lewis, your home had become so hostile that you've been working overtime the last few days to avoid being in the flat other than to sleep, shower and eat. Lewis had taken a different approach and had been going to the gym, or fucking other girls, you weren't entirely sure how he spent his time but you wouldn't be surprised by him taking up either option. Or both.

Either way, he comes home, drops his bag by the front door, plays with Roscoe and downs a protein shake before taking a shower and going to bed. All without saying a word to you.

You weren't hurt by this. Lewis had unintentionally (or intentionally, you were never sure) been ignoring you in your relationship for several months and so this wasn't going to hurt you. But what did hurt you was that even Roscoe was starting to ignore you and had been spending less time with you these last few days. He stuck by Lewis' side as your husband took every opportunity to make you feel like an outsider.

Well, I guess we know who's getting Roscoe if we were to divorce.

You had at some point used Whitney's home as a refuge, which you were secretly grateful for. She had known that you and Lewis were going through a tough time but you had never told her the exact reasons. Especially the ones that had unfolded in the last few days. You weren't ready for another round of I-told-you-so's when it came to your relationship with Lewis.

She still had no idea about your open relationship. Nor was she aware of your fling with Charles after you had left the club that night. For all she knew, you had danced with and kissed Charles in a drunken moment after a fight with your husband. No biggie.

And when you rocked up to her apartment shortly after your argument with Lewis, she seemed to be none the wiser. You were there to grab your belongings after all.

"Look at you. Making out with a hot Frenchie before having angry sex with your husband," she teased. "Told you girls night would be a good idea".

"What are you talking about?" you scoffed as you had gathered the belongings you had left behind.

Sex with Lewis? Like that was on the cards these days.

"I recognise hate sex when I see it. I mean, look at those hickeys on your neck," Whitney laughed.

Shit! You had noticed them when you left Charles’ and you were going to cover them up when you got home but then you got so lost in your argument with Lewis that you got changed as quickly as you could before you left for Whitney's.

"Oh yeah," you laugh sheepishly. "I forgot he left those on my neck".

Dammit, Charles! If Whitney had noticed them then Lewis definitely would have noticed. Great, even more ammunition for him to use against you. You pull up the collar of your shirt in a pathetic attempt to hide the markings on your neck.

"It's fine. Max always used to leave marks on me when we used to have makeup sex," Whitney tells you. "He was always up for that kind of stuff when we argued".

You laugh to yourself at the memory of Whitney's ex, Max. A sweet and funny guy until you pissed him off and then he became a hot-headed Dutchman. You were all too familiar with them from growing up in Belgium.

"How was the sex, by the way?"

"What?" You're completely out of the loop when it comes to the conversation from your brief trip down memory lane.

"The sex? With Lewis?"

"Oh!! Yeah, it was good," you lie. "Pretty hot. He got really into it".

Whitney cackles. "Well, I'm not surprised. The way you two have been arguing lately you were due a hot and heavy go at it."

You roll your eyes when she's not looking and take the first opportunity you can to move the conversation away from you and Lewis. "Enough about me. What about that guy you brought home?"

Whitney blushes as she's clearly having flashbacks. "It was good. Better than I thought, to be honest. I'm actually seeing him again this Friday," she gushes.

"Oh, do tell".

"Well, he's having a house party this Friday for his birthday and invited me. You should totally come," she sounds so excited. Before you even get a chance to respond, she's already beaten you to it.

"You need to come. I think he lives with that sexy guy with the dimples. You know, the one that you kissed?" She teases. You're tempted to throw the cushion that's beside you at her head. You loved your best friend but boy, did she never let you forget your actions.

"Whitney, don't!" you plead. You've just moved on from the Lewis conversation. You really didn't need to get into a conversation about Charles with her.

But she dismisses your pleas, "Oh, come on! It was just a kiss. One that you seemed pretty into, by the way. And besides, it's not like you fucked him."

Yeah, about that...

"Anyway, you're having a shit time at home with Lewis. Maybe you guys need to have some social time apart until things cool down. Plus, there's nothing wrong with having a sexy French guy flirting with you every now and again".

"They're Monegasque, Whitney," you whine. Charles had told you that it was one of his pet peeves when someone got his nationality wrong.

"As if there's a difference. But you're coming to that party".

You were slowly edging closer to Friday and as the week continued, so did the cold front you were receiving from Lewis. Before he was just blatantly ignoring you but now he was just being downright petty. He'd been constantly texting and giggling whenever he was in the same room as you. Leaving and coming back to the apartment at all hours. Speaking obnoxiously loud on the phone with his friends about going out and partying this weekend. You're pretty sure you even saw him pull a woman's thong out of his backpack at one point.

And I'm the one that's supposed to be 10 years younger than him? you had thought to yourself at the time. If you had rolled your eyes any further they'd be permanently at the back of your head.

Whatever tactic Lewis was going for you weren't sure. Was he trying to make you feel guilty? Have some regrets? Possibly even to make you jealous?

You had even started to think in the other direction.

Was he just so shocked that you finally made a ballsy move in your marriage that he didn't know how to react? Because prior to last weekend it would have been so unimaginable that you would do something without thinking how it would affect Lewis. You had spent most of your relationship being infatuated with him after all.

Or, god forbid, he was genuinely hurt that you had slept with someone other than him so easily. And he was trying to process the hurt and confusion that he was feeling, even if he didn't have a leg to stand on.

Whatever his motive was - it was unclear. This was behaviour from Lewis that you had never experienced before. And so, rather than engage with him in a game you didn't have the energy or knowledge to partake in, you used it as an opportunity to explore your own thoughts and feelings.

You were still undecided about if you should go to Joris' party on Friday or not. It could be a recipe for disaster and result in further hatred from Lewis. But a part of you was still curious. Charles was most likely going to be there and you hadn't seen or spoken to him since you had left his apartment last weekend.

You were keen to see him again. The night and morning that you had spent with him almost felt surreal. Whenever you had a moment, your mind would flicker back to him and you thought about all of the things that you found attractive about him:

His accent. His scent.

Those dimples.

His adorable laugh which ranged from a light chuckle to sometimes sounding like a seal was dying.

His toned body.

The way he called you amour.

His warm breath hitting you as he moved on top of you.

His tongue slipping into your mouth.

You had to catch yourself a few times as you were finding yourself replaying the events from the weekend in your head. The more of these moments you had, the more you realised you had to settle this sense of curiosity once and for all.

And so you had texted Charles asking if you guys could meet in person. He had agreed and you had decided to meet after work on Thursday.

As you made your way to the entrance of the bar that you had agreed to meet in, you were hit with a wave of nerves. Seeing him again sans alcohol had you doubting yourself. Was this really a good idea? You were already in the doghouse.

But how much further into the doghouse could I be in right now?

Whatever sense of panic and doubt you were feeling left your body as soon as your eyes connected with Charles'. He was already sitting at a table and from the moment he noticed you walking in, his lights lit up and a bright smile immediately spread across his face.

He was stunning. And you were reminded of it each time that you saw him.

He stood up from his seat as you made your way towards him and he opened his arms for you to fall into you. You obliged and rested your head against his chest as he held you for a few moments.

"Hi," your greeting was so blunt that you could feel Charles' chest vibrate against your head as he chuckled.

"Hi, [Y/N]," he laughed.

You lifted your head from his chest so you were now looking up at him and into his eyes.

"It's good to see you again, amour," he whispers as he moves his hands from around your body to cup your face.

He examines you before placing a delicate kiss on your lips. You feel like you're about to melt into him at just the slightest touch of his lips against yours.

"Hi, Charles".

You open your eyes and see that Charles' pretty green eyes are looking into yours deeply. He's been just as curious as you have over these last few days. Especially when it comes to the thought of what it would be like to see you again. To feel you. Were you as into him as he had originally thought?

After your embrace, you take a seat opposite him and your hand immediately reached for his across the table. You've only been here for a minute but you already feel like you need to have your bodies intertwined in some way. He laces his fingers through yours and gives your hand a light squeeze.

"How have you been, amour?" he asks you gently.

God, just hearing him say amour again makes you want to launch across the table and plant another kiss on his lips.

"I've been okay," you tell him. "It's been an interesting few days since I left yours on Saturday".

Charles smiles at you sympathetically. "I can imagine".

You sense a hint of nervousness in his body language as he asks you another question, "Does your husband know?"

"He does," you sigh. "I mean, I arrived home in the clothes that I left yours in. It was pretty obvious".

"And how did he react?"

You can't help but let out a laugh, which confuses Charles a little.

"Well, let's just say he hates me right now. But honestly, I don't really care," you tell him truthfully. "He's being insanely difficult but he's a hypocrite. He's done stuff like this for so long now that he's now just throwing his toys out of the pram. I don't think he ever expected me to prioritise my own feelings for once".

You take a sip of the drink that Charles had already ordered for you before arrived before continuing, "And it only confirms that I made the right decision to stay with you".

You can't help but smile as a sense of relief washes over Charles and he smiles back at you. "So you don't regret coming home with me?"

"Charles, it was the best decision I've made in a very long time".

To reassure him, you lean over the table and place a kiss on his lips. You stay there for a moment, slightly deepening the kiss before eventually pulling away. As much as you would like to, you can't tongue him down in the middle of a bar on a late-Thursday afternoon.

"And aside from the great sex," you laugh, pausing after you see Charles look ever so slightly more smug at your comment, "I also really enjoyed getting to know you."

"I really enjoyed getting to know you too, [Y/N]," he replies. His voice is so soft and genuine that a warm feeling rushes across your entire body. "I wanted to message you after you had left on Saturday but I wanted to give you the time and space you needed. I mean, your situation from what I can see is a lot more complicated than mine".

You nod. Complicated definitely felt like an understatement these days.

"But my feelings towards you aren't complicated. And I'd like to get to know you more," his voice is soft once again. His eyes are glued to your face. He's looking at you deeply, your fingers still laced with his.

You take in a breath before you reply with,

"I'd like that a lot, Charles".

You both lean in to meet each other in another kiss, this one a little more passionate than the previous ones you had shared today.

As you both move away, he presses his forehead against yours in another sign of affection.

You and Charles continued your conversation about getting to know each other. He did have a few more questions for you about your marriage. Before today you would have tried to dodge Charles' questions but after he so openly shared his feelings and intentions towards you, you felt like you owed him some reassurance. And that you and Lewis had some sort of agreement. You also weren't just stringing him along in some shitty affair to get back at your husband but you wanted to get to know him on a deeper level.

You'd also discussed the party that Joris was hosting the next day and Charles was more than keen for you to come but he noticed you still had some hesitations.

"How many of your friends know about us?" you asked him quietly.

"Just the guys that you met, Riccardo and Hugo. Joris knows too," he tells you. "I think some of the others would have known that I kissed you but I'm pretty sure they don't know that we slept together".

You hesitate a little, "How sure is pretty sure?"

"I mean, I told the guys not to say anything. It's not really their place to run around telling everyone your business," he replies. Your hands are in his and he's stroking the back of your hands with his thumbs to soothe you. "I also didn't want them to ruin my chances of seeing you again".

You relax a little and you can't help but to smile at him. "You're too good at this," you joke.

"I'm not always this good," he sounds honest but when you look at him and take in his beauty, you wonder how he couldn't be so good at this. "But with you, amour, it feels natural".

You jokingly roll your eyes but you feel warm and fuzzy inside. You're so easy when it comes to him. And for a moment, your mind flashes back to the beginning of your relationship with Lewis and how you so easily fell for his charm.

But Lewis was much older than you and way more experienced. With Charles, it's beginning to feel more natural, more authentic.

Before you could begin to compare the two further, Charles brings you back to attention.

"Your friend..."

"Whitney".

"Whitney," he carries on, "does she know?"

You shake your head a little. "Erm, no. She doesn't. She did see us kiss and stuff on the dance floor but she still thinks that I went home that night."

Charles nods, he seems quite understanding.

"And she thinks those love bites that you left on my neck are Lewis'. Just in case it comes up," you tease.

Charles drops his head in embarrassment. His cheeks flush a little but you can see he's trying to hide a smile. "Sorry about that".

Somehow you don't think he's sorry.

You both tease each other for a few moments before you become slightly more serious again. "She doesn't know the true nature of my relationship with Lewis right now. She just knows we're having a shit time".

"So I'm going to have to drag you to a private room if I want to kiss you tomorrow?"

You giggle as Charles flashes you a cheeky grin. "I think so".

You pulled out your best acting skills as you and Whitney made your way to Charles and Joris' apartment for the party the following evening, pretending as if you hadn't been here just seven days before.

"What apartment number is it?" you ask as you both stand downstairs at the main entrance.

807, you reply to yourself mentally.

"Err.... 807!" Whitney replies before punching in the apartment number.

A muffled voice accompanied by some thumping music tells you to come in before the door unlocks in front of you. As you wait in the lift with Whitney, you begin to think about how you'll interact with Charles tonight and not make it obvious that just one week ago he'd been fucking you in this very apartment for five hours straight.

Especially if you have a few drinks in you. Your composure was non existent after you got a few tequilas into your system.

"I swear to god, if tonight doesn't result in sex with the birthday boy, I've lost my touch," Whitney sighs. You hold back a laugh as you remain grateful for your friend's ability to always get you to snap back into reality. Even if that was discussing whether or not she'd be giving the birthday boy her own special type of gift.

As you approached the apartment door, you were both greeted by the birthday boy, Joris, who drunkenly threw his arms around the both of you.

"Come on in, ladies," he drunkenly yells in your ear. "Time to get drunk on my birthday".

He begins to drag the two of you into the apartment and into the kitchen where you're greeted with the sound of music blasting and the smell of alcohol.

"Looks like someone has already started," Whitney teases. You feel like a third wheel as Joris whispers something into her ear and Whitney starts giggling. Unfortunately, Joris still has his arm wrapped around you as they continue to flirt with one another.

You try to free yourself as one of the other guests hands you a cup of something but Joris has you trapped as him and Whitney continue their conversation.

"I'm going to leave you two to it," you hope your attempts of freeing yourself aren't too subtle but Joris and Whitney are already too into each other for them to even remember your existence.

A few minutes have passed and you've finally freed yourself from Whitney and Joris. You haven't told Charles that you were here yet since you and Whitney had gotten ready and come to the party together, not needing an opportunity for her to spot you texting Charles. You two were going to have to play it casual tonight.

Once you've poured yourself something that doesn't want to make you throw up, you begin to make your way into the living room to find some other company. As you make your way back into the hall, you bump into none other than Charles' friend from last week. Hugo.

"Heeeyyyy... isn't it long time no see?" he yells as he jokingly throws his arms around you. "Been a while since I've seen you here".

You try not to roll your eyes as he's clearly intoxicated and lightly poking fun at you.

"Nice to see you too," you reply dryly.

"Only joking, apparently I'm not supposed to be telling anyone that you and Charles are fucking," he continues, his words are slightly slurred. What time did these guys start drinking?

"Well, you're doing a very good job at it I must say," you say sarcastically. You look up at him and he's smiling down at you.

"Thank you," your sarcasm has completely gone over his head. "I've always been good at keeping secrets". His arms are still wrapped around you in a friendly hug. Just as you've managed to free yourself from one drunken embrace you've now found yourself in another.

"I'm going to just have a quick walk around, I'll catch you later, yeah?" you tell him and manage to free yourself from Hugo's grasp. As you make your way towards the living room he calls after you, "Your boyfriend is in the living room if you're looking for him".

This is going to be a long night.

Despite his lack of composure and subtlety, you thank Hugo before making your way into the living room in your search for Charles. You have a quick look around the living room, weaving your way through plenty of people. You can't see him. As you're about to turn and make your way back into the kitchen, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey you".

You quickly turn around and see Charles standing behind you with a smile on his face. You return the smile and feel grateful at the fact that he's clearly not as intoxicated as the rest of his friends.

"Hey," you greet him softly.

You take in his appearance and as usual, he's looking good. His brown hair is in its usual style and he's rocking a slight tan thanks to the rare London sun. He's wearing a baby blue linen shirt that has the first three buttons undone, his toned chest peaking through. You would have leaned in to kiss him already but you remind yourself that you two need to be on your best behaviour tonight - leaving no signs that you have been involved in any way.

Not that Charles' friend are sticking to that party line.

"Nice to see you again, Charles," you tell him, slightly blushing as he's amused by your staring.

"Thank you, [Y/N]," he says before leaning down to your ear and whispering, "You look beautiful, amour".

The rosiness returns to your cheeks.

You and Charles are trying to find ways to have a normal conversation with one another without wanting to display signs of affection when you hear loud, drunken voices make their way into the living room.

"Shots!"

The voice carries towards you and you see Joris make his way through the crowd of people with a tray of liquor in his hands. He spots Charles and manages to make his way over to him without spilling any alcohol, miraculously.

"Charles, bro, take a shot!"

As Charles takes a shot glass from the tray, Joris looks over to see you standing there and a grin instantly appears on his face.

"Aw, you found your girlfriend," Joris teases and you feel like you're about to shit yourself when you see Whitney following behind.

"Joris," Charles grits through his teeth in an attempt to shut his friend up but if you and Charles are planning on having an easy night with no teasing from your friends, this was not a great start.

"Ohh... look who it is," Whitney laughs as she looks between you and Charles. "Two more of these sambucas and she might kiss you again".

"Whitney!" it was your turn now to scold your friend. Charles quickly flashes you a look of sympathy.

"Come on, it was a joke. Just take a shot," she yells at you and gives you an elbow into the side. You obey her orders and take a shot glass from the tray.

You were definitely going to need more of these if you were going to get through this night.

"3... 2... 1..."

The four of you take a shot, wincing in the process. You're still getting over the vile taste of the sambuca when you feel Whitney grab your arm.

"Come on, [Y/N}, let's go to the bathroom," she says as she begins to drag you out of the living room. "We'll catch you guys in a bit".

Before you're completely dragged away, you look at Charles one last time, mouthing "Pray for me!" which earns a chuckle from Charles.

Once you and Whitney find your way to the bathroom, she locks the door before plonking herself down on the toilet.

"You've told - what's his name again, the hot Frenchie?" Whitney asks.

"Charles". And he's Monegasque.

"You've told Charles that you're married, right?" Whitney quizzes you. Her questioning soon accompanied by the sound of her peeing.

"Yeah, I have," you reply. You hope that your expression is neutral, enough to hide the sudden stress that you're feeling inside.

"Okay good!"

"Why do you ask?" you feel like you might regret asking this one.

"Because I'm pretty sure he was giving you, I wanna fuck you eyes".

You had managed to escape further questioning from Whitney as you successfully moved the conversation along to how she was going to end the night with Joris again.

After you'd left the bathroom, you'd enjoyed the evening with more alcohol and talking to random people at the party. You and Charles occasionally bumped into one another. As much as you wanted to spend most of your night with him, you often had to have surface level conversations and make eye contact with him from across the room.

But right now you were the closest you had been together all night since taking shots with Joris and Whitney. You currently found yourself sitting on the sofas with a few randoms, one of Charles' friends whose name you still hadn't gotten yet and an agitated Charles who was basically eye fucking you from the other sofa. You both were evidently frustrated, it's the longest you two had been around each other without being able to touch one another.

As you were stuck listening to one of Charles' friends rambling on about something football related, you noticed Charles take out his phone and type away aggressively. Once he finished his text, he locked his phone and returned to burning his eyes into your body.

Charles' drunken friend had now moved the conversation onto why he called himself a "Smooth Operator" when you saw your phone flash in your lap. You look down and see a text from Charles:

I can't take this any more, I miss you. Meet me in my bedroom x

You close your phone and briefly look over at Charles, slightly nodding to confirm his request, before you briefly continue your conversation with the "Smooth Operator". In the corner of your eye, you see Charles excuse himself and make his way towards his bedroom. You give yourself thirty seconds before telling this guy that you needed to go to the bathroom.

You try to avoid detection by Whitney and any of Charles' friends that knew about the two of you and eventually make your way to Charles' bedroom. His door is closed and you quietly push it open. You take a quick peak inside and as you're about to take a step in, you feel a hand grab onto your arm in the dark and pull you inside, shutting the door quickly after you.

"Merde, it's about time I got you to myself tonight," Charles growls as he presses you against the door. He wastes no time and, in the dark, he presses his lips onto yours hungrily.

You've barely had a chance to breathe since Charles pulled you into his room as his hands find their way onto your body. One hand finds it's way to your ass and begins grabbing at one of your cheeks like a possessed animal.

"Mmmm!"

Charles initially ignores the noise that you've made against his lip but when you grab onto his hair and pull onto the strands at the back of his head, he slowly pulls away from the kiss.

"Sorry, amour. I got a little carried away," he pants. "I've been waiting to do that all night".

You let out a little laugh, "It's okay, Charles. I've been dying to do the same thing".

As you both recover your breath from the heated kiss, Charles' hands are firmly placed on your ass. "I've been trying my best not to get my hands on this leather skirt all evening".

You giggle, a way to let him know you wore this tight skirt on purpose and find his lips once more in the dark. You wrap your arms around his neck and push your tongue into his mouth. The kiss is a little slower this time but the passion is very much still there.

As the kiss begins to heat up once more, Charles presses his body onto yours and you feel your back press against the bedroom door once more. You can't help but smile at the hard bulge you feel that's pushing against your hip. The poor guy is already needy.

Taking the initiative, your hands run down Charles’ chest and you slowly begin to unbutton his shirt. You reach for his belt and begin to tug at it, undoing the buckle. He lets out a soft moan against your lips.

As you unzip his jeans and begin to pull them down, you decide to tease him, "Do you want me to touch you, Charles?"

He bites down on your lip in retaliation and you let out a whine.

"Fuck!"

"Don't tease me when I'm this hard for you, amour," he tells you before moving his lips to your jaw line and towards your neck.

Looks like those marks will be making a reappearance this weekend.

You ignore Charles' demands and begin to rub him over his boxer briefs, his dick is almost solid at this point. You feel him moan against your neck and one of his hands rests above your head on the door to hold himself up.

You continue to rub him, not giving him skin-to-skin contact down below.

"Baby, please," he begs.

You're trying to hold back a smile and before you get a chance to tease him further, he grabs your hand and shoves it down his boxers so your hand is on his dick.

"Fuck!"

His groan is so deep in your ear that you can feel yourself starting to get wet from it. You realise that you've teased him long enough and begin moving your hand up and down against his shaft. You rub your thumb across the tip and feel a bit of pre cum.

"Oh fuck, [Y/N}, just like that," Charles pants in your ear. You follow his demands, slightly picking up the pace with your movements. He attaches his lips to your neck in an attempt to stifle his soft moans.

Eventually, you grow bored of just having his hard cock in your hand and so you pull yourself away from him. As you get down on your knees in front of him, Charles opens his eyes to complain.

"Baby, what the-"

You silence him by taking him into your mouth.

"Merde".

You pull your mouth off of him so you can spit on his dick before moving your hand up and down his shaft once more.

"Do you like that, baby?" your voice is sickeningly sweet.

"Oui".

You smile and take him in your mouth more, placing your hands on both of his thighs to keep you upright and you begin bobbing your head up and down. His dick hitting the back of your throat. As Charles' moans get a little louder, you feel him lift up your hair and make it into a ponytail so he has better control of your movements.

As your mouth continues to move up and down against his shaft, you peer up at him through your lashes and see that he's staring down at you. His mouth is slightly open in the shape of an "o" as he watches you down below. His head resting against the back of his bedroom door.

"You look so perfect like this, amour".

You've missed him calling you that. And so as a reward, you take him out of you mouth, making a popping sound in the process so you can move down to take one of his balls into your mouth. One of your hands moves back to his cock so it doesn't get lonely from your mouth.

Charles is clearly enjoying it as you feel him tug on your hair slightly, another deep moan leaving his mouth in pleasure.

You pay attention to the other ball for a while before taking him back into your mouth once more. Charles decided it's his turn to take control and places his hands at the back of your head and begins to lightly thrust into your mouth. His dick hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

"Oh God!"

His moaning is met with the sound of you slightly gagging as he hits the back of your throat. He continues thrusting into your mouth and you feel your eyes begin to water at the sensation, spit drooling down either side of your mouth.

Once the sensation becomes a little too much, you squeeze Charles' thighs so he can pull out of your mouth and you take in a deep breath. You feel your spit run down the side of your face and Charles looks at you with so much lust.

You place his cock into your hand once more for assistance and take him into your mouth, you're a little quicker this time with the movement, wanting him to climax.

He's starting to twitch in your mouth and you know he's close. His hands are still holding your hair into a pony tail but one of his thumbs is now caressing your cheek.

"Baby, you're so good at this," he whispers.

He lightly thrusts into your mouth once more to let you know he's almost there. Just a few seconds later, he lets out a grunt and aggressively pulls his dick out of your mouth. One hand grabs onto the hair on top of your head, pulling at it lightly, while the other finds its way to his shaft. He rubs it a few times.

"Put your tongue out, baby," he pants.

You obey, tongue out, and soon after his cum begins to fall into your mouth.

A number of fuck's and merde's roll of his tongue as he shoots the last of his cum into your mouth.

He lets go of the hair that he's grabbing onto and places it against the door so he can hold himself up right and recover from the pleasure you've just given him.

As he tries to get his breathing back to normal, you place a kiss against his lower stomach and stand up. You wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek. He lifts his head slightly so you have easier access to his lips and they meet once more in a kiss. His tongue is in your mouth and he can feel the taste of his own cum against it.

Despite the fact that he's still recovering from his climax, Charles doesn't want to leave you unsatisfied for long and begins to fiddle with the zip on your leather skirt, with you assisting him along the way.

As your skirt falls to your ankles, you open your legs slightly so Charles' hand can find its rightful place between your legs again.

"I can't wait to fuck you," he whispers against your lips as he quickly moves your underwear to the side. He pushes a finger through your folds to find itself in a pool of wetness.

He's about to stick a finger inside of you when you both suddenly become distracted by someone calling your name from the other side of the door.

It's Whitney.

Your eyes are wide open out of shock and you feel your heart begin to pound at the idea of being caught in a very compromising position with another man that isn't your husband. Especially by your best friend who has no clue about your situation.

You look into Charles' eyes out of panic. He places a finger to his lips as a gesture for you to stay quiet.

"[Y/N], are you here?" Whitney calls out.

You don't answer. You cling onto Charles and place your head into his neck.

Whitney is about to call your name out again when you hear someone else out in the corridor. You hear Joris' faint but drunken voice. You can't make out what he's saying but whatever he said, it's enough for Whitney to walk away from Charles' door and back down to the commotion and party in the rest of the flat. Once you're sure that she's gone, you look up at Charles.

"They're going to find us here," you whisper.

Charles nods. "I know. But I still need you so badly".

You both pause, allowing yourselves to think of a place for you to continue this away from any wandering partygoers.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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arealphrooblem · 2 years ago

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Mutually Assured Destruction

Snyopsis: Villain x Civilian. Civilian can sense other people's powers through auras but hides this ability. They are terrified of the most boring person at their office job, who hides the most powerful aura Civilian has ever felt.

Being the first person out the door undoubtedly did Civilian no favors to their work reputation.

Anytime someone joked about it, often with an edge, Civilian would make excuses: their dog needed let out (they didn’t have a dog), they had to get to the bank before it closed (they use their banking app 90 percent of the time), they liked having a work/life balance (that one’s true).

The real reason, of course, was to avoid any encounters with them. Their newest colleague -- Jonathan Anderson. A bland, forgetful name for a bland, forgetful person. He arrived two months ago in her data entry division, dressed everyday in the same unremarkable navy suit with a grey tie, gave generic responses to small talk at lunch.

And he scared the shit out of them.

Luckily for Civilian, their paths didn’t cross that often and when they would, Civilian had found ways to neatly side step them -- emails instead of face to face conversations, calling in favors, and once, even taking a sick day to avoid a meeting.

It worked great -- until it didn’t.

The elevator descended at an agonizing snail’s pace. Civilian stood in the back, gripping the railing behind them with a sweaty hand and tried to breathe slowly and evenly.

The only other person in the elevator with them -- and the only other person in the building -- was Jonathan Anderson. Because of course he would be working late the one time Civilian had a deadline change and a mad scramble to get everything read by tomorrow.

He stood in front of the buttons, his back to them, plain brown leather briefcase dangling from his hand. To everyone else, he looked harmless. But the sheer power of his aura radiated like the sun. It made Civilian light-headed being in such close contact with it.

Thirty more seconds, they thought to themselves. That’s all this elevator ride would last. After that Civilian could scurry off to the parking garage and screech out of here.

29 . . . 28 . . . 27 . . .26 . . .

The elevator came to a sudden, sickening halt and Civilian’s heart with it. They waited for the emergency alarm to blare, but the elevator stayed eerily silent.

“Is there . . is there something wrong?” Their voice came out shaky and hoarse. They cleared their throat.

For a moment Jonathan didn’t respond. Instead he turned around to lean casually against the wall and survey them, his face as bland and unreadable as always.

“That’s a question I think I should be asking,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

Instantly their hackles rose. It took considerable effort to keep the panic from their face, to force their shoulders to relax, to look confused and concerned.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re afraid of me.”

The truth struck true, lodging itself between their ribs. Civilian swallowed, suddenly dry mouthed, and tried to find the air again.

“You’ve trapped me in an elevator and you’re bigger than me,” they pointed out.

“That is rather nerve-wracking, I’ll admit. It’s almost believable. But this started a long time ago, didn’t it?”

He straightened and took a step towards them. And another. All while speaking in that affable, level tone, as if commenting on the weather.

“Since my first day here. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you never shook my hand that day. Or that I don’t notice all the little tricks you pull to avoid me. Yet we’ve never had a negative encounter. You’ve never given me the opportunity to create a bad impression. It’s rather baffling, don’t you think?”

He stopped a safe distance away but close enough to prevent any attempt to escape. Despite being only a couple inches taller than Civilian, they loomed in the small space.

“So tell me -- how do you know?”

“Know what?”

It was their only defense, this wide eyed denial. To pretend they were discomfited by a bizarre encounter with their coworker, rather than straddling the edge of a panic attack while stuck in an elevator with a man who could kill them with a snap of his fingers probably.

He snorted. “You gave up the ability to be coy when you stepped into this elevator. Please don’t make me ask you again.”

Though he made no threatening movements, the swell of his power spoke for him, the pressure of it nearly suffocating.

“I can feel it,” Civilian whispers shakily. “Your power. Anyone’s power. They have an -- an aura about them and I can feel how strong it is.”

“So you can tell, instantly, who is and isn’t a powered individual?” he clarified, his focus sharpening like the sun through a magnifying glass.

They only managed a nod, their throat tight.

“Fascinating.”

The hint of awe in his voice would have been flattering if Civilian hadn’t spent so much effort to avoid this kind of attention.

“And which organization is benefiting from this power? Who is keeping tabs on me?”

“No one,” Civilian said hurriedly. “I haven’t told anyone.”

A wicked smirk spread like slow poison across his face, transforming a visage that no one looked twice at into something terrifying.

“Do you think I’m as stupid as I pretend to be for work? There is no possibility that any organization would allow someone like you to walk untethered. Now, answer the question before I show you exactly why my aura frightens you so much.”

His hand hovered just over their heart, the beat of which a cacophony in their ears. Nothing happened -- yet. But the anticipation of it, coupled with the fact that Civilian still had no idea what such power was, made their whole body start to tremble.

“They don’t know about me,” they said, throat tight. “No one knows about me. I’ve kept it a secret my whole life.”

Jonathan still surveyed them with suspicion. “Why? I imagine you would be an extremely valuable asset to them. And those tend to be very well compensated. You expect me to believe you’d rather be a data clerk for a bank?”

A flash of rage breaks through the fog of terror. “My father was an extremely valuable asset. It didn’t stop him from dying an excruciating and unnecessary death. I’m not following in his footsteps.”

For a moment he looked taken aback at this confession before his eyes narrowed in what almost seemed like approval. It emboldened Civilian.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here and I don’t want to know. If I tell anyone about you, it will blow my secret too. So just . . . let me stay out of your way?” They swallowed, tongue darting out to moisten cracked lips. “Please?”

For several agonizing seconds he just looked at them, his face blank as printer paper. Civilian tried to meet his eyes, to look trustworthy, but the weight of his flat, calculating stare was too much. Instead, their gaze fell onto his hand, still hovering over their heart, ready to crush them or incinerate them or dissolve them or whatever ungodly thing he could do.

And then his hand slowly slipped down further between them and flipped up, palm open.

“What take out do you enjoy?” he asked.

“ . . .what?”

“It’s a bit late for a restaurant, but I know several takeout places still open this time of night. Do you have a preference?”

It was Civilian’s turn to stare at Jonathan with their brow furrowed.

“You -- you don’t need to buy me dinner,” they stammered.

“Of course I do. It’s customary for a date, yes?”

“For a what?” Civilian choked.

That wicked smirk appeared again, giving life to the void of his neutral expression.

“You know what they say. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“I -- I’m not your enemy!”

“And you will never have the opportunity to be one. I’m ensuring it. And since you refuse to acknowledge my presence here at work, there is only one other recourse. Now choose or I shall choose for you.”

A date. Dinner. With him. Someone with the strongest aura Civilian had ever encountered. Someone who was definitely planning something illegal.

“I like tacos,” they said faintly.

With a wave of his hand, the elevator shuddered back to life and continued it’s gentle decent to the ground floor.

“Then we shall get tacos,” said Jonathan, taking their hand.

Part Two

#my writing #not a prompt #enemies to lovers #villain x civilian #civilian x villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain

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animasola86 · 1 year ago

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Smutmas: Take your anger (and stick it where the sun don't shine!)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x m!reader

Genre: Angst/Smut // Words: 3.9k // [Read on AO3]

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content! Hate sex, oral, anal, mutual masturbation, double the amount of dicks!

Synopsis: You and Sebastian are both flawed boys and there is only one way to let out that pent-up frustration.

Notes: Beware: I am entering my explicit gay porn era! But hear me out: I, as the author, identify as female (and do not possess any male genitalia), and I believe most of my audience does too, but I wanted to try something new, so here we go. Don't worry, I did my research, yet I hope it was enough to convey what is going on.

Last warning: There's gay smut below! Read at your own risk!

Take your anger (and stick it where the sun don't shine)

“You insufferable little shit!” you could hear Sebastian's voice behind you. As you turned around, you saw him stomping right at you. You recognised his angry stance immediately.

“What did I do?” you asked innocently, putting your hands on your hips as you waited for him to reach you. You wondered how you angered the Slytherin this time (until the memory came back to you), though it didn't really matter either way, because when he stopped right in front of you, he glared at you out of dark eyes, working his jaw, and then grabbed your tie and pulled you unceremoniously after him. “Hey, easy!” you tried again as you stumbled along but to no avail.

Moments later, you found yourself being pushed into an empty classroom, heard the door being closed and enchanted, so no one would disturb you. You should have been more surprised, or even alarmed, but you knew the drill. This wasn't the first time Sebastian Sallow took his anger out on you.

Frankly, you were kind of hoping he would find you after you had convinced Madam Scribner that it had been Sebastian who was responsible for a bookshelf to collapse and burst into flames in the library the other day – when it had been you all along because you were still struggling to control that blasted ancient magic coursing through your veins, and sometimes things just happened, mostly destructive things.

And because it was easier to distract yourself rather than to deal with a problem head-on, a notion you certainly shared with the brunet pinning you to the wall right now, you often found yourself in his presence when you needed to take care of the steam threatening to burst free.

“You landed me a week in detention!” he growled and stared at you.

You raised your eyebrows. “Only a week? She threatened to expel me if I didn't tell --”

“So you admit that you blamed me? For something you did, presumably? You bastard!” Sebastian grunted and grabbed your shoulder to turn you around, pressing your chest against the wall. “You could have just asked to spend time together, you know?” he added in a lower voice as his hand slipped down the front of your breeches, his fingers expertly gliding over the stiff fabric.

He was right of course. You started doing those stunts to see him, meet him in detention, meet him anywhere really, because you couldn't think of anyone else who you could share your anger and frustration with than the boy behind you. You'd been to hell and back together these last years, and somehow when things got really bad, you always found yourself next to him, very, very close to him.

If anyone had ever told you that you would feel the most relaxed with another boy's dick up your arse, then you would have laughed and felt ashamed and frankly would not have believed them. But it was true. Anger sex was your go-to method of calming down again.

So you forced yourself to play along, counter his rage, defy it as best as you could with your cock already throbbing against the tight confines of your trousers. Even though your frustration had been running high these last days, causing the outburst in the library, you felt your own anger deflating the moment you felt Sebastian's hand palming your crotch roughly. Actually you always seemed to ease up the moment you saw his warm eyes on you or heard his voice in your ear.

Yet you'd never tell him how he made you feel, you wanted him to hate you, you wanted the unbridled wrath he could unleash upon you. So you kept pranking him, teasing him, angering him in any way or form. Because deep down you knew he needed it as well. He needed someone to handle the conflicting emotions running through him, chewing on his insides, destroying him slowly from within, ever since things went downhill in your fifth year.

Sebastian had lost everything that year and had found himself in a very dark place that only you had been brave enough to enter. Mainly because you were there too, for different reasons, but you still shared the rage coursing through your veins. The grief, the anger, the disappointment, the feeling of being all alone in the world, trying to shoulder things you were too young and inexperienced to handle.

It had been the end of the year, everyone had been exhilarated to celebrate the House Cup, to leave Hogwarts for the summer holidays, but you had found yourself huddled away, still in disbelief that you had lost your mentor and that everyone else seemed to have forgotten about it rather quickly. The battle of Hogwarts was no longer on the front pages, everyone had moved on. Yet you couldn't, because you still felt the energy pulsing through you of when you had absorbed Isidora's corrupted magic.

While you had tried to figure out what to do next now that the Keepers had abandoned you for defying them, you had met another lost soul in the dimly lit hallway. Sebastian had still been dealing with the loss and abandonment of his sister, the broken friendship with Ominis and the outrage that had killed his uncle, so when you two had met each other in the shadows while everyone else celebrated the end of the year, you had quickly found yourself in a dark corner, with no word spoken between you as he had rammed his cock into your underprepared arse.

The pain had numbed your anger, and quickly you had become addicted to the sensation. And now, two years later, you had made it a habit of completely driving him insane, bring out his rage, to feel it all over again. You both knew why you'd do it also and somehow he still played along, though you knew he was secretly impressed by your creativity of finding new ways to get him to hate you.

“Where's the fun in just asking you out?” you muttered back as he proceeded to grope you through your breeches. “You know I hate being boring...”

“Oh I know you do,” he grunted into your ear as he pressed his groin against your arse. “Can't do anything the normal way...”

“What's normal anyway?” you whispered as your hand moved around to grab at his thigh. “Definitely not this...”

“No, definitely not this,” he repeated and you could feel his hot breath on your neck as he leaned in to bite at your pulse. You couldn't help but wince when his teeth nibbed at your sensitive skin and frankly you were past hiding all those little twitches he was able to coax out of you.

“It wouldn't be the same,” you started, taking another sharp breath as you felt his fingers undoing your buttons before slipping into the newly created opening to tease at your dick. “I can't even imagine doing this normally with you. What would that look like? Would you buy me flowers and treat me to a nice meal? Out on a cosy date in Hogsmeade for everyone to see? Would you --”

“For Merlin's sake, shut up already!” he grunted, pushing you against the wall as he let go of you. You couldn't help the smirk from playing around the corner of your lips. He saw it when he suddenly spun you around by the shoulders once more, glaring at you out of those dark eyes that made you weak in the knees (not that you would have ever admitted to that). “You really like to hear yourself talk, eh?”

You scoffed and merely glared back at him. Shaking his head, he then grabbed your waist and forced your breeches down, your undergarments with it, and when you stood in front of him, literally butt naked, it was his turn to smirk at you. With his hand on your shoulder, he pushed you down until you were on your knees, looking up with your smug expression unfaltering.

“Look at you,” he muttered, tilting his head. “You pathetic little worm, kneeling in front of me with your trousers down like a bloody whore. Use that damn mouth of yours for better things, why don't you!”

Your hands were at the buttons of his breeches before he even stopped talking down at you. Undoing them with nimble fingers, you quickly freed his hardening erection from its confines and grabbed it roughly, causing him to stumble slightly. He shot you an even darker glance, but didn't say anything as he watched you do what you seemed to be doing best, at least in his eyes.

Leaning in with your eyes fixed on his freckled face, you gave his shaft a long skim of your tongue, taking in every single little reaction you caused in him. One hand moved up to cup his balls and give them a tight squeeze before you grabbed his length with the other and stroked it expertly as you focused the movement of your tongue to his tip, circling and lapping at it, sucking and nibbling on his sensitive skin until you heard the first little groan escaping him.

The sound vibrated through your entire body and you leaned back and watched him curiously, licking your lips as you did so. Your hand kept moving, firmly pushing his skin up and down, until you pressed your thumb to his slit and forced the first droplets of precum out of him. A shiver rushed through him and you saw him clenching his fists at his sides.

You leaned back in and closed your lips around the agitated crown of his cock, tasting and smelling that special musk you cherished so much, that would make your own body shudder in excitement. Of course you held back for now, focusing on him while your own dick stood tall and proud, bumping against your lower stomach with every bob of your head as you pushed yourself onto him and took him into your mouth as deep as possible.

As you felt him pressing against the back of your throat, you closed your eyes and held your breath, but you fought your gag reflex for now and pushed further until your nose was buried in his curly hairs. He grunted loudly as you forced his tip into your tight throat and when you leaned back again, you spluttered slightly and wiped a strand of saliva off your lips as you looked up at him.

He watched you darkly as you continued stroking him with a firm grasp, before you dove back in and repeated the same motion over and over again, each time holding him longer and deeper in your throat until you felt your eyes watering and his body shuddering more and more.

“Fuck!” he spat and grabbed your shoulders in support, his fingers digging into your shirt as he jerked his hips against your face.

You relished in his noises and involuntarily reactions as you kept bobbing your head on him, moving with the slight bucking of his hips, feeling him hardening to the point more and more precum leaked out of his tip. You lapped at it hungrily, the wet slurping noises filling the empty classroom.

Suddenly he gripped your hair and pulled you off him, red spots dancing on his cheeks as he stared down at you. “Get up and turn around,” he told you gruffly and you got to your feet and did what he told you, your trousers still pooling around your ankles as he positioned himself behind you.

He pushed his hard erection between your cheeks and leaned around you, grabbing your previously unattended dick with a fierce grip as he started stroking you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his shallow breaths right in your ear. You couldn't help the shivers running down your spine at the sensations and the little moan escaping your slightly aching throat. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his touch, even pushed your rear against him invitingly.

Not that Sebastian Sallow needed a formal invitation to do anything, he always took what he wanted, and right now, it was to drive his cock into your arse. With one hand on your dick, giving you those needed pumps, his other hand moved around your left butt cheek, groping and kneading it until he teased his thumb against the tight ring of muscles. You inhaled sharply when he pushed past the resistance and forced his digit in deeper.

You felt your legs trembling when he poked around until he pressed firmly against your prostate, coaxing a deep grunt out of you that made you stumble against his touch. You almost came right in his hand there, but then he pulled his thumb out and even let go of your dick, before grabbing your hips and guiding you back towards his cock.

Swallowing hard, you realized you were never really prepared for his intrusion and even though he had gotten better at making it less painful over the last years, it would still always take your breath away when he would fill your arse. This time he pushed his tip firmly against your tight hole and you inhaled deeply, trying to relax, before he used a sharp snap of his hips to push his length all the way into you until you felt his balls slapping against your sensitive skin.

A groan escaped you and you had to put your hands on the wall in front of you in support as he dug his fingers into your hips and just rested there for a moment, buried deep in your bum, giving you the chance to adjust to his size. He had gotten softer for sure, you thought, the Sebastian from two years ago wouldn't have given a damn about how much pain he would inflict on you, he might even have opted to make you suffer more than was necessary.

But this version of the boy behind you seemed to listen for your noises, wait for the shudders of your body to subside, before he finally started moving. Slowly retreating, until his tip was gripped by your tight entrance, then pushing back in with a quick jerk of his hips, back and forth, over and over again until you heard yourself moaning louder.

His hands were on your waist as the slapping of skin against skin filled your ears and all you could feel was the relentless rhythm of his cock sliding in and out of your arse and his pelvis slamming against your cheeks. You were groaning and moaning in unison now, a low rumble of noises mixing with the sounds of your bodies pushing together.

You felt light-headed quickly, but even in your haze, you felt the need to lower a hand and grab onto your own dick to release a little bit of that tension. Yet at the same time he had slowed his movements and leaned around to grab it too, your hands touching involuntarily. Despite the rather rough nature of your 'love making', it still sent pleasant shivers down your spine when his fingers would brush against yours, be it in class or the library when you reached for the same book, or in the middle of having him rail you into the wall, it always felt exhilarating.

Instead of withdrawing or slapping your hand away, he slipped his fingers between yours and guided them towards your cock so you started to stroke your throbbing member together. More moans escaped your throat and you couldn't help but lean your head against his shoulder as you felt your balls tightening under the combined ministrations of your hands.

He buried himself deep in your clenching arse and started grinding his hips slowly, pushing his girth against your sensitive muscles and all the right spots. You grunted deeply, biting your lip as all the sensations at once caused your dick to twitch in your combined hold. He seemed to notice your struggle to move on your own, so he kept stroking you fiercely, his own grunts loud in your ear, and when you came with a low growl, he wrapped his arm around your stomach and held you close, keeping you steady as you felt thick ropes of cum spurting out of your tip and dripping down both of your hands.

He let you rest for a small moment, holding you tightly as you leaned against him, his breath hot on your cheek as he turned his head towards you. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, panting badly, and when your eyes met, there seemed to be another one of those unspoken agreements you both had perfected over the last years.

You saw him smirk and then he let go of you and pushed you back against the wall, his hands on your hips, before he continued to move inside you once more, slow at first, but then faster and faster, as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your tight space with reckless abandon. Your noises of quiet whimpers and deep moans mixed with his grunts and the never-ending slapping of skin against skin when he fell into a rapid rhythm of slamming his hips against your cheeks.

There was the power you had needed, the raw emotion, the unbridled rage, as he rammed his cock into you at an impressively fast and deep rhythm, his length and girth stretching and prodding your muscles with each powerful thrust. You fought against the sensation, forcing your legs to stop trembling beneath you, your entire body tense from the experience.

But this was what you had wanted, all of it, and you craved the pain that came when your muscles started contracting around him, working against you instead of with you. You could have relaxed and let him have it, it would have been so easy, but you were too stubborn and frankly quite the masochist, because you needed every aching muscle, every screaming nerve, every burning sensation.

It was the only thing that kept you from losing your mind. And so you gritted your teeth and strained your arms against the wall as he kept rocking your body back and forth, over and over again, his grunts mixing with yours, as his fingers dug painfully into your hips, his balls slapping against you as his cock moved in and out relentlessly, the delicious heat of the friction driving you almost insane with pleasure.

You felt your dick harden all over again, but you couldn't give it any attention at this moment because it was Sebastian's turn to let go. With a loud growl, he gave you one final powerful thrust that rippled through your entire body as he buried himself as deep as possible before you felt his cock throbbing and twitching as he emptied himself inside your tight arse, his hot seed filling you up completely.

He kept grunting as more and more shudders rushed through him, more and more cum spurting out of him and into you, and as you savoured the warm feeling spreading inside you, you lowered a shaking hand and gave your own dick a few much needed squeezes before you came as well again, your body spasming against his as you leaned your sweaty forehead against the wall, unable to stop your legs from shaking beneath you this time.

Inhaling deeply, you tried to catch your breath, while the boy behind you leaned his entire weight on your back, his arms snaking around your stomach as he held onto you, his cock still twitching inside you. You let him have this rather tender moment and closed your eyes, but as soon as you relaxed against him and even raised a hand to put on his arm, a gesture that was usually too intimate for your liking, he retreated again, standing up straight and slowly pulling out of your clenching hole.

You let out another moan and a surprised grunt when he suddenly slapped your butt cheek with his flat hand, the pain rippling through you deliciously. It didn't however mask the emptiness you felt with his cock no longer lodged inside your bum, and without his girth, your muscles worked hard to move back into their original form, causing his seed to pump out of you relentlessly.

You rather enjoyed the warm sensation of being so full, but gravity and whatever other forces worked ruthlessly against you, leaving you to desire this whole spectacle all over again. Sighing deeply, you eventually leaned down to grab your trousers and undergarments, ready to pull them back up, but before you could do anything, you were suddenly spun around, almost stumbling against Sebastian as he pushed your bare backside against the wall, his eyes boring into yours.

Despite the intense gaze, you couldn't help but break eye contact and look down his front. His spent cock was still out, glistening in your combined juices, yet your eyes lingered on his wand in his hand. For a moment you wondered what he wanted to do, and when he grabbed your throat with his free hand you were really concerned for a second, but he only held you in place while he moved his wand over your soiled skin and cleaned your mutual messes.

You watched him intently, despite the tight grip of his fingers this might have been the gentlest gesture you witnessed him express towards you ever. He usually left you a shuddering, defiled mess (and you were there for it), but having him wash you so thoroughly, was certainly something else. When he was done, he pocketed his wand and let go of your throat, only to bend down and grab your breeches before he pulled them back up and helped you get dressed again.

You were more than confused, yet somehow oddly intrigued by this turn of events. As he grabbed your dick and shoved it back behind the confines of your trousers, you raised your hands and did the same to him. He seemed equally surprised and your eyes met for a long, heated moment. Despite sharing the most intimate desires of both of your bodies, you had never indulged in the more romantic kinds of affection, like kissing or hand holding or even hugging, in that order.

Both of you had resorted to the most extreme type of being together and never looked back, but standing before Sebastian now, staring into his dark eyes, you felt the need to take several steps back and redefine your relationship. Might also be the post-nut clarity, you weren't sure. Whatever it was, the moment quickly faded when he took a literal step back from you and tilted his head, looking you over grimly.

“Next time you need to do this, just send me an owl or something,” he told you gruffly and moved a hand through his messy hair. “I really can't have you ruin my reputation any further.”

“What reputation?” you replied with a low chuckle and a smirk. “I'm only adding to the already existing one... You did that to yourself.”

He groaned and gave you a glare, before he turned around and headed to the door. “I mean it...” he called back over his shoulder.

“I know,” you said and watched him leave. “Expect my owl then.”

Sooner than later, you wanted to add, but you didn't want to come across as too desperate. Though he probably already knew that and frankly you couldn't care less. You needed him as much as he needed you. Not just his cock up your bum, the entire package. And perhaps there was even one of those chaste kisses for you in the future, who knew.

End notes: I've always been a yaoi lover and it still took me more than seven months of being in this fandom to actually write something like this, oh well.

I was certainly channeling the snarky boy that is the male mc when writing this, I can just hear his voice taunting Seb.

Again I took inspiration from this Smutmas prompts list, so here we have Day 4: Anal and Hate Sex. As you can see I'm not doing those in order or even consistently, I just write them as they come (out of my brain).

Thank you for reading!

By the way, I have three other oneshots that are not exclusively female oriented, but gender neutral:

The Ghost under the Table (a bj in the library)

Just Breathe (an angsty love confession)

Just another adventure, right? (angsty first kiss)

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER - AO3

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow x reader #reader insert #sebastian sallow x m!mc #male reader #smutmas 2023 #smutmas #smutmas day 4

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