#titanic imagine

[80s4life]

Pawns”

Word Count: 4,522

Status: Requested!

Ask: Pleeeeeaase write more of Cal from titanic. Literally any prompt I’m so hungry😭

Ask #2: Pleasee could we have more cal hockley content, specifically more chapters for "the things I've never done" and even more short stories if you have the time, I love your work 💕 [THANK YOU SM! I WAS STARTING TO GET SELF CONSCIOUS OF MY WORK AGAIN]

Ask #3 will have an attachment to a separate Cal fic as well, so no request will be shown here until that one.

@: Three cutie pie nonnies!

Relationship: Caledon “Cal” Hockley x Female!Reader

Fandom: Titanic 1997

Summary: Thrusted into the roaring 20′s, all you wanted to be was free and outgoing as all the booming women in city. However, your father’s deal with the devil seals your fate in the hands of your advisor and boss, Caledon Hockley; a man who is haunted by memories, stubborn in his ways, and opposed to the newfound strength in the young women of America. You’re a slave at his will in his eyes, yet you’re just as free as the new reformed women in your own. You’re stuck at a standstill in this endless game of chess, but who’s the pawn?

Warnings: forbidden, early 1900′s morals and customs, Reader is a maid, Cal is the head of the house, Post-Titanic sinking, mature language, kinda spicy, PTSD, domestic violence (included in a PTSD episode ONLY), Kind of a Beauty and The Beast AU for inspiration

{gif is not mine, credit goes to @locke-writes​}

It was all an act of practicality from the start: your father owed his father money and he had a set of nimble hands to rid himself of. 

Nathan Hockley was a millionaire who dealt in the steel tycoon business in Pittsburgh. Your father had a habit of gambling with the wrong people, which had allegedly caused your father to have an uncomfortable run-in with the powerful man. Unable and too stubborn to do so, your father handed you off as a way of reparation for the damage the bastard had caused.

Nathan’s son, Caledon Hockley, was the exact replica of his father. He was cunning, stubborn, powerful and wealthy; a disrupting mixture of facets that could either lift or crush you with a simple snap of a finger. He was dangerous, among many of his other qualities, which made your business in the Hockley’s presence just that much harder.

With the pandemonium that followed the sinking of the Titanic in 1914, the physical and mental effects had taken ahold of Nathan’s deeply treasured and only son, practically keeping him on house arrest until he was “better”. However, to both Nathan and Caledon’s dismay, 6 years had done nothing for his declining health, the reasoning behind why Nathan had administered you into Caledon’s household in the first place.

All of these events have led you up to this point, your suitcase rolling behind you as one of the many maids in the manor lead you up to your room to unpack. You haven’t seen this young and precarious man yet, but something is telling you that you most likely don’t want to. You are soon to be given your list of instructions to follow immediately and precisely; left to your own devices to either stay afloat or drown in the fury of the Hockley men.

Maria, a young maid in her 20′s, around your age, approaches you with a pure and youthful grin, a light blush to her cheeks. Her hair is cut into a cropped bob of black hair with short but soft curls, her lean frame with modest green eyes making her endearing - intoxicating. “You must be Miss Y/L/N?” her cutesy, high pitched voice only adding to her allure and picturesque innocence.

“Yes, that’s me,” you mutter, displaying your hands as if to show yourself off in sarcasm.

“No need to be so glum!” she giggles, bowing her head to catch your eyes and raise your line of sight. “I’m Maria Espinosa, but I’d assume the least you’d want right now is formalities.”

You snort, but let her continue nonetheless.

“I’ve your instructions - written myself, of course!” she smiles brightly; any harder and she might break her face. “As you know, with your appointment into this manor, the rest of the faculty will be let off, per Nathan Hockley’s request. But, don’t fret, the list is simple, short and can last all day without having to pay too much mind. Every Tuesday and Thursday, there will be a grocer that will restock the cabinets, refrigerator, etc. and help you with the cleaning. You are not to touch the east wing and only reside within the west - this will help eliminate the messes to clean and prevent extra exertion-”

“Sorry, if I may be crude, why are we not to go in the east wing?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“It was...” Maria drifts off, choosing her words lightly, “After the accident in 1914, the east was torn by his own hands. It was once used for balls and such, but after the Titanic,” she whispers the name as if someone might hear her, “Caledon was bedridden and sick, upset, angry, any emotion in the book. He used that wing as a way to let those emotions out.”

You stay silent as you stare at her with morbid curiosity and fear, nodding once before returning your attention to the list. The rest seems easy, not like the job was ever hard to begin with, just an annoyance for better words. 

Maria clears her throat, “Anyway, you must make at least two meals a day, mainly breakfast and dinner, both at 8 am and 8 pm. Caledon might decide not to have lunch some days, but if he does, make sure it is brought to him by 12 pm. He doesn’t like tardiness, so as long as you follow the rules as tightly as you can, you won’t be a target. Any questions?”

“No, no. I’d presume you’d want to be heading out?” you smirk at her mischievously and instantly watch as her taut muscles relax.

“Very much so, yes! It’s been forever since I’ve had a moment of freedom.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you shoo her off playfully. This is your family’s mess to clean, the least you can do is let her be free of the shackles that are now passed down and chained to your ankles. 

Maria is halfway through the door when she turns to you from the foyer, “I’ll do a monthly checkup to make sure everything is in line, and for a little company in your lonesome, okay?”

You smile gratefully, hands coming up to play with your nails, “Thank you, you’re very kind. Though, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“A burden? You just gave me my freedom!” she exclaims, laughing as she waves a hand. “I’ll be back by the end of the month! Settle in and enjoy the quiet!”

The moment the door slams shut, your shoulders droop heavily. Your eyes scan the spacious mansion with frightening curiosity. You’ve never even remotely been near land such as this, and now that you’re inside, it feels almost too much. You let your hands glide the carved wooden banister as you walk up the huge steps to the second floor, taking a left down a hall.

Your legs carry you down the long corridor, and, as you place your key into the fob, your eyes lay onto the door across from yours: ‘Lord Hockley’ carved neatly on the door. There’s a rustling behind it and footsteps that approach the other side of the door, eliciting you to push the key one click further and dive through the door as quickly and quietly as possible.

You flop onto the bed with a huff, trying to calm the beating of your heart just enough to allow you to unpack and prepare dinner within the course of 3 hours. When your room is finished, you nod in satisfaction, taking a bath in the connected bathroom and changing into a thin, sheer dress before exiting your room and back down the steps to the kitchen.

Finally do you take the time to read the list on your own. It includes very detailed and descriptive instructions, easy nonetheless, of medication usages and what to do with each, meal plans, recipes, a map of which rooms to clean and how to clean each one, and Caledon’s nightly and morning rituals to follow precisely.

Shrugging your shoulders, you roll your neck to release the tension before opening the cookbook up to the recipe designed for today’s date. “Pork roast,” you state alloud, cringing at the echo of your voice being followed by more movement in Hockely’s room.

Your mind roams as your eyes get lost at the sight of the luscious woods out the window, hands deftly whisking away at the pork roast’s grease with the intent of making a nice gravy to coat the dry, but tender pork roast. Shaking your head, you peer down and try to busy yourself with the already settling boredom you’re consumed by. 

You can hear the halls creak, the water drip from the faucet, birds chirping outside, the soft sway of the wind, random clicks, ticks, and other noises. You’re destined to go insane.

You jump unexpectedly with the sound of a crash from upstairs. The noise comes from the general direction of Caledon’s room and you all but groan at what the sound indicates -  what your being here demands. 

Putting the roast of low, you close the lid with a soft click before ascending up the stairs to Caledon’s room. You stand outside the door, hand on your heart, as you try to calm your rapid heartbeat and breathing. This was to come about sooner rather than later, so you should be glad it’s happening now. However, the banging continues within the room and you know that even if you had met him in a few months, the hell that follows him would never be escaped for as long as your father’s debt remains.

Knocking on the hard wooden door, you speak softly, “Lord Hockley? Is everything alright?”

You’re not given an answer, only the sound of something heavy being thrown and falling to the floor.

“Lord Hockey?” you call out again, louder this time. Unsurprised, you are followed by no answer once more. Annoyance creeps into your words a third and final time, “Lord Hockley, I will come in there myself if you do not open this door. Now,” you demand.

Shrugging when no voice calls to you form the other side of the door, your hand twists the doorknob and pushes the door open. You legs carry you only so far before they stutter to a stop just past the door frame. 

Just before you, there is a disheveled, sweaty Caledon Hockley, fit from youth and some maturity in his thirties, shirtless. His eyes look crazed, like a madman, as his hands grip a chair at his desk with white knuckles. Around the room, there’s shelves torn down, broken, books in a disarray on the floor. His bedsheets are thrown about with the other chair from his desk propped against the wall in his fury.

You stare wide-eyed, but somehow, not alarmed in the slightest. You were accustomed to this sort of outburst, especially within the hard working men. You saw it in your father - even in your younger brother. “Lord Hockley,” your voice is softer again, all annoyance and anger lost at the door. 

His eyes snap up to you, as if he had just noticed your arrival or presence. “What are you doing in here? You are not to barge in a man’s room, that is uncouth for a woman of your age and status. What is wrong with you?”

“Lord Hockley-” you try to start your confession.

“A woman is not to speak up to a man; are you ferel? Are you-?”

You don’t allow him to finish his slandering, “-I am mentally efficient, Lord Hockley, and very aware of my positioning here. However, I did knock, three times to be exact, with no answer. There had been a ruckus in here for about-” you peer up at the clock above his desk, “-an hour and a half now. I came to be of assistance, but if my help is unwanted, I’d happily leave you to your self-pity on your own?”

He has no other emotion present except bewilderment plastered to his face; eyes wide, mouth agape, and at a struggle for words. His fists clench and unclench as his eyes pan down to stare at the floor, appearing deep in thought.

“Lord Hockley, if I may be so bold?” you ask, scanning his body language and searching to find the meaning of this man’s crazed outburst.

“Go ahead,” he mutters, a hand going up to rub some hair from his eyes, still staring at the floor. 

“You may confide in me if that means helping your mental health?” you offer. You know this could go one of two ways: either one, he’ll turn you away, suffer alone, and claim that men have no such weaknesses, or two, he’ll let his guard drop and release him from these dark episodes he’s no stranger to. The latter seems rather unlikely.

“I am not mental.”

“I did not say that. I was simply insisting that everyone has a dark place their mind goes to, which is a detriment to a person’s mental health. Let alone someone who is expected to heal quickly and pick up the family business, am I correct?”

Just as you thought you were getting somewhere, Cal’s eyes snap back up to yours with anger, the malicious anger tearing at his body again, “You know nothing of my family’s business and nothing of me. You have no audacity as to even assume or place yourself in my shoes. I should have you thrown out or hanged for your mouth alone. Get out!”

“Just trying to be of service, sir, since I’m at your will!” you smile sickeningly, bowing to him and sliding through the door just as a book is picked up and thrown.

You let out a deep breath of air on the other side of his door, now in the safety of the hallway. Your throat tightens with a soft sob, tears welling in your eyes. You truly feel as a prisoner on death row, hands and ankles encased in heavy metal cuffs; struggling to walk under the watchful gazes and heavy chains slowing you down, keeping you locked in this manor. 

You weren’t the perpetrator, you know this, but you were framed to support the guilty with your own naivety and love.

You drag yourself back down to the kitchen to finish the man’s meal with dejection, but still devoted for the greater future - when you no longer have to be a maid in this manor and be free, lost in the world again.

“Lord Hockley?” you call once more at his door, only this time, you’re holding his tray of dinner. “I have your meal, are you decent?”

You hear a muffled ‘Yes’ and proceed through the door cautiously.

It seems he’s settled now, sitting at his desk with notes and papers scattering the floor and desk. He hadn’t cleaned the room, which you suspected you’d have to clean in the near future. However, you notice the bed is drenched in liquid, and when you look back at him, you notice sweat beading at his forehead, a thin sheen of sweat glistening against his skin.

“Lord Hockley?” you call again, stepping closer towards him. He chooses not t answer you, so you press further. “You’re sweating.”

“I’m very well aware of what my body is doing.”

“Are you feeling ill? I can help you if-” you are cut off by his fist meeting the solid oak of the desk.

“I do not need any assistance from the likes of you, nor do I want it,” his voice is stern, scary.

You try not to lose your temper so easily this time, so you give him a kind, tight-lipped smile. “Of course, my lord, you are a man after all. A man is able to take care of himself just fine, though he installs many maids within his manor. Maids like me,” you giggle dryly, “What shall I do instead, since you are able to clean, cook, and much more without the help of the ‘likes of me’?”

Caledon only groans, “Just leave the food here, you are dismissed. I’ll leave my tray for you to clean in the morning.”

“Oh, how kind,” you roll your eyes, scurrying to the door.

“Oh, and Miss, maybe you could find a better countenance and leave your convictions in your pillow when you arise. Wouldn’t want to explain to my father - and yours - as to why you were no longer needed and let go.”

You can hear the sinister smirk in his voice, but you choose to ignore it - for now -  and head to bed briskly.

The next two weeks follow you in a similar form. You do as your told, albeit begrudgingly, and get into many of your childish arguments. Your interactions with the man are nasty and violent at times, always finding yourself dodging an object, taking threats, and coming in the next morning asking for more. 

More, more, more; you ask for more because there is nothing else to be given. You have to take everything as a grain of salt. You have to because this means your father’s life and yours. If you manage to screw up, and you will, they will not only have your father’s head, but yours for Caledon’s punctured ego.

Though, somewhere within those weeks, you started to care less and less.

“Lord Hockley?” you knock at his door, tray of food in hand. He once more gives you no answer, so you push in.

Greeted by no light in the room, you walk around in the darkness, knowing this room like the back of your palm now. Placing the tray of food on the oak countertop and go to strike a match, lighting the candle on the desk. Going around the room, you light each and every one of them until the room is dimly lit enough to see.

On the bed, you find Caledon, sweat having gotten worse as you’ve noticed he never leaves his room. When you step closer, he is shivering, teeth chattering. Worried, you go to place the back of your hand to his forehead, but quickly draw your hand back when he jerks upright.

“Lord Hockley!” you jump, the ghost of his skin still lingering on the pads of your fingers. “You’re burning up, I need to help assist you now. You’re very ill and the sickness has gone on long enough-”

“No!” his voice rips through you quiet pleas, rattling off the walls.

“But, Lord Hockley-”

“I said ‘No’! I do not want assistance, I am a grown man!”

“’You can take care of yourself’, yeah, yeah, bullshit!” you scream, the frustration, fear, and hurt finally meeting your words as you are blinded by your emotions.

“What did you say?” Caledon looks at you in disbelief.

You cringe as you can guess what is about to take place in mere minutes, but you don’t hold back anymore. “Is your bigotry deafening your hearing or did you hear me call bullshit?”

Shakily, Caledon gets off his bed, his frame towering yours as he glares down at you with pale skin and dark, chocolate brown eyes.

“Your father wouldn’t want you to be sick, knowing that you would have to run his business soon.”

“My father-” Caledon cuts himself off, a hand going to wipe his face. “This has nothing to do with the business.”

“No? Well then, why else would I have to pamper you like a king? Is it because you’re defective?”

Caledon’s pacing now, trying to calm his increasing ragged breathing.

“Or is it because your useless to him? Mentally unstable?” you continue, trying to get a rise out of him.

“You know nothing of his business nor my personal life!” Caledon snaps back to you, anger finally bursting.

As his anger ensues, he takes steps close to you each time, piercing his thick index finger into you chest for emphasis. “You are nothing, you are worthless. I am a wealthy businessman. I am a strong, independent man with power. People would miss me if I were gone!”

“If you’re such a big man, you wouldn’t lock yourself away in your room like a toddler.”

That’s what finally did him in. You pressed a personal button when your short quips finally hit a nerve, testing his masculinity. Before you have time to react, a glass vase is hurled at you. It was a short throw, and was nowhere near your face, however it caught you by surprise and smashed against your hip.

You ignore the pain, though all you wanted to do was bury yourself in a hole. You came here to help him, but all you are returning is anger and hurt that is most definitely placed at you. 

“You’re sick and it is my job to take care of you, so your father won’t have my ass because his baby boy isn’t okay. It’s my job to make sure you are very well satisfied. It is my job that you get your linens washed, food prepared, room cleaned, and make it my duty that your estate is fully functioning all on my own!” you jab a finger in his direction, placing more distance between your bodies until your back hits his door, his body on the other side of the room behind his desk.

He goes to say more, but you cut him off with more furious blows.

“Though, what isn’t my job is to allow you to threaten me. It isn’t my job to be belittled and yelled at by you. It isn’t my job to allow you to throw objects and whatever anger you have and hurl them at me! That is not my job, nor what I will allow any longer!”

“I never asked you to be here. I didn’t want you here. You forced yourself into my estate to protect your father. You knew what you were getting into just by the public papers alone. You knew what was to be expected and yet you came here anyway. You made a prisoner and a victim of yourself.” Caledon’s gaze does not falter and neither does yours.

“You’re correct, Lord Hockley, I may have known what I was getting myself into. What I didn’t know nor expect was the childish frustration and blatant disregard for human decency. I’ve tried over and over again to be kind, but against your better judgement, you couldn’t allow me to be the person to hold such compassion.” 

Your eyes are welling up with tears now as you feel a warm liquid flow down your palm and to the tips of your fingers.

“You do not understand what is bothering me and you never will,” Caledon finally starts to calm himself, the self-pity returning as he recounts lost memories you cannot decipher.

“No, but I have made it abundantly clear that I was here to help assist you. However, you saw it as being weak, so it wasn’t in your cards to even allow me the common courtesy of being a human being. You felt as if I was lying to you.”

“God, you are so annoying,” Caledon groans.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“You know, when you’re silent, I almost like you -  wait, are you injured?”

“No!” you yell almost instantaneously. 

“Did I do that? Its dripping on the floor, what happened?”

“The glass,” you almost stutter, the atmosphere changing quickly. “The glass shatter and cut some of my hand, I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“And, you’re ill.”

Caledon sighs, his shoulders slumping. Motioning for you to exit the room, Caledon says nothing as you make a silent pact to clean up. 

You are suffering whiplash from the sudden change of emotion and it leaves you on edge, but with the cooling of his mood, it allows the adrenaline and some stiffness to leave you. Confusion overtakes your mind.

Guided into the kitchen, you start to take out numerous medications, searching for something to accommodate his symptoms. Caledon walks up to you quietly, almost afraid to get too close.

You do not say or look at each other, finally finding the right medicine and sliding it to him on the counter before sitting down on one of the bar stools. He sits beside you carefully, taking the medicine. 

Taking some gauze and wiping away the cuts with an alcohol wipe, you struggle to wrap your hand. That is, until a warmer, larger one goes to encompass it gently, waiting for an action of opposition to its intentions.

Caledon gaze burns the side of your head before you finally acknowledge him with fear. Softly, he starts, “…Just allow me to help?”

You nod softly as the tears form in your eyes again. Some time passes before you finally work up the nerve to ask, “Why do you do this?” 

Caledon looks up from you hand with confusion, which urges you on to elaborate, “Why does your mood change so swiftly, so suddenly?”

Sighing, Caledon gives you a firm look, as if he’s deciding whether to trust you or not -  to tell you. “The Titanic,” he starts, “When I survived, I lost almost all of who I was. When I returned home to my father, I was constantly burdened with memories. They would consume me, control me, until I felt like a madman. The only solution was anger. When the anger takes control, there is no longer that burning sadness, guilt, and regret; no hoping I’d done something differently. I couldn’t allow myself to do that because I was no longer that man anymore.”

“It’s scary,” you croak, peering into his eyes.

“It is, but what’s worse is the life I’ve lived after the episodes. My father found me defective, worthless. I will never be able to fully recover, which is bad for business. He locked me away in this estate to stay hidden from prying eyes, bedridden to remain unseen even in this secluded property. I insist on doing the simplest actions myself because it makes me feel as if I’m showing my father I am still capable, just changed.”

You nod slowly as you take in this new information, grateful. The man has finally opened up to you, he’s no longer a stranger in his own home as it seems.

Calmly, Caledon pats your hand, signalling that the wrapping is done. A hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair from your face, resting it on your cheek just afterwards. “I know I’ve hurt you, but please, try to understand me, I’m not asking for your forgiveness... I just wanted you to understand-”

“You don’t need to ask that, I already forgave you a long time ago,” you smile softly, placing one of your hands on his opposing cheek. “We will learn to adapt, just as you have many times before. We are no longer strangers, yeah?”

“Yes,” Caledon smiles with glossy eyes.

“We will work on this together. You are not alone anymore.”

Caledon looks at you with uncertainty.

“I am here, always. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Kissing his forehead softly, you other hand goes to be placed on his shoulder, “Repeat it.”

“I am not alone,” a tear slides down his cheek.

“Not as long as I’m alive,” you smirk, placing a kiss to each of his eyelids.

“Never again,” the both of you say together, lips finally meeting as if to seal the promise the both of you now shared deep in your hearts. 

“Never alone.”

[swanimagines]

TITANIC AO3 SERIESES

EVERYTHING FOR TITANIC

Jack Dawson

(Any of the other characters don't have any requests written nor pending as for now, so I'm unable to have serieses for them as AO3 requires you to have at least one oneshot written to be able to add it to a series, and I can't promise serieses for characters who don't have requests pending/I have no ideas of my own for them)

For anyone who's concerned, THESE ARE NOT ONESHOT COLLECTIONS, they are made using AO3's "series" feature.

If you want to be informed about new fics for Titanic or its individual characters, create an AO3 account and subscribe or bookmark any of those serieses listed above. There are buttons at the top right corner for those, or on top on mobile. I do not do Tumblr taglists anymore.

Also, if you're wondering, requests are ALWAYS open and you're welcome to leave one or multiple. Just remember to read my rules and pick a request type from this list.

[thesithdiaries]

Misery (Titanic fic) - *Coming soon*

Pairing: Cal Hockley x OC / Thomas Andrews x OC

Warnings: angst, disaster, real life events, violence, manipulation, drowning, guns, affair, cheating, mentions of SA and panic attacks, marrying young

Author's note: This is solely based on the film. Anything written for historical characters is for fictional purposes.

Additionally, I saw the movie in theaters for the first time and it kinda inspired me to actually write this. I've thought about it for so long.

-

Summary:

Ruby DeWitt Bukater was the oldest daughter of the family. When she was 19 years old, she was married to Caledon Hockley, the heir to a Pittsburgh steel fortune. Her mother, Ruth, often said it would "ensure their survival" since he was a billionaire.

Ruby did anything her mother asked. She was fit for royalty, another thing Ruth would say. Ruby took all the responsibilities so her younger sister, Rose, would be spared from her mother's absurd rules and ideas.

The maiden voyage of the Titanic changed her life in more ways than one, especially after she met Thomas Andrews, a man who showed her kindness and the beauty of life.

[foolsocracy]

anon sent an ask abt roy and garth but it vanished into thin air so this ones for you, wherever you are

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI

fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words

“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss. 

he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live. 

cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.

he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.

“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.

“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.” 

a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.” 

“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."

normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks. 

levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”

you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice. 

levi makes his way towards the door. 

“levi?” 

he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him—if he’d be mad if you didn’t. 

but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought. 

you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.” 

he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting. 

he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter. 

no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle. 

levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess. 

their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say. 

his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first. 

“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.

armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”

levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red. 

he should've known.

“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.

“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."

levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you. 

“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”

eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice. 

or so he thought, anyway.

historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness. 

“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”

levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.

eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned. 

it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety. 

“how long have you been together?”

“does she actually like you?” 

“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.” 

“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.” 

“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.” 

"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.” 

“five—” 

a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.

levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.

even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.

he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.

[daemontargaryenwhore]

He couldn't afford to lose another kid knowing he's going to lose one just for the battle to end.

[ndglt]

I had to do dick justice and hide that enormous forehead

anyway here's my rendition of the cutest canon picture of the tween titans IT'S SO CUTE (if we ignore the context on why we see the picture)

[http-tokki]

Levi comes up beside you, hand sliding over your waist to rest on your hip and hold you close.

"I don't know how to approach this so I'm going to break it down." there’s a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Uhh, okay?" you're confused and look up at him to give him a look.

"You know I respect you right? and that I know you're not an object?" he waits for your answer.

A huffed laugh leaves you, "Yes? why, where are you going with this?'

"So thats been established. I don't see you as an object to possess or own?” another pause for your acknowledgment. " I just want to make that clear because I don't want to say anything that's gonna make you think that I own you or-

"Levi, what are you talking about?'

"There's a guy over there," he nods his chin in the direction of said man. "Who has been staring at you all night and I really don't like it and I wanted to talk to you about it but I didn't want you thinking I was being possessive. I just don't like the way he is looking at you, like he wants to own you or something but you belong to - wait never-mind, I just don't like it."

"Levi?"

"Yes, love?"

"Do you belong to me?"

He pauses for a moment to really think about how to answer you. "Yes, I think I belong to you."

"And do you think I belong to you?'

"Well, I like to, I hope you do."

"Then I do."

"But you know its not in a toxic way, I'm not being controlling.”

"Yes, baby I know, but for all intents and purposes, you belong to me and I belong to you.”

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon/dubcon, bullying, reader wears glasses

♡ gn reader

Thinking about jock bully hunting you down after the bell rings...

You hurry – haphazardously shoving your books and pens into your bag before slinging it over your shoulder – ready to get out before the chimes are even done singing.

Thankfully, it seemed fine for now as you couldn't hear the roaring of buzzing students in the hallway just yet, only your own class packing up their belongings with movements rather lazy compared to yours. 

But you couldn't afford to take your time – even with the free period following the end of your class. You needed to leave before he could find you.

"Where’ you off to in such a hurry, Specs?"

You ought to have knocked on wood before finishing your thought – you admonished yourself with eyes squeezed tightly shut and a punishing bite to your lower lip.

It's funny – you winced – how his voice is so casual, so breezy and laidback, all cool and friendly – funny how it sends such spiky goosebumps down your spine.

You ignore him, trying to squeeze past him – quick and dexterous as you attempt to slip away and disappear out the door – maybe be so lucky to lose him in the crowd.

"Whoa, whoa- you tryna run off on me?" He joked. His large hands held up to block your way. 

You watch the rest of your classmates leave – leaving you to fend for yourself. But you couldn't really blame them… none of you wanted to explain new bruises to worried parents at home.

He was like a shark circling, and if he smelt blood in the water, you were as good as done for. And you were like an open cut.

"Now, what did I do to deserve a disappearing act, huh?" He pouted. His head tilted, blocking out the lights in the ceiling, shadowing his already scary face. 

You nearly squeaked instead of speaking. "Please- I- I-"

"Calm down, will yah?" He dismissed. Flashing you a wide smile – the one that nearly fooled you into believing he was a good and decent guy. "I ain't come to pick on yah…"

You didn't listen. Once again, you bravely tried to push past him with your bag squeezed tightly to your chest – trying to rush to the door.

But his size was like the door itself. Big and squared. Muscly and tough as he blocked your way effortlessly. Though, no less bothered with your insistent attempt at running away from him.

"Now, when I tell you to do something-" He laughed passive-aggressively as his hand reached out to clutch the handle on your bag, yanking you back. "You should perk up and listen, yeah? Use that head of yours for something useful for once."

His knee rode up between your thighs – making you whimper where you stood, caged between his thick arms and the desk behind you.

"Wouldn't wanna make me angry now, do yah?"

His breath tickled your face, and you bowed your head under his gaze – unable to take your eyes off of the veins flexing along his beefy arms as his large hands gripped the table’s edge, sleeves rolled up like usual – the sight of his knuckles whitening, making you queasy with unease.

You tried ducking away once again. "Please, I need to-"

But he just clicked his tongue at the measle effort. Cutting you off yet again. 

"You don't need to do anything but stand here and entertain me." He decided with a voice a bit more biting than before.

You jolted, your eyes round and wide as you looked back up into his glare.

He laughed out a lighthearted chuckle before his hand broke off from marring the desk – scratching the back of his neck with an apologetic smile – serving a small effort at easing your worries where you stood tense and rigid in your place in front of him.

"Thing is…” He started once again, his tone back to normal – or whatever he wanted you to think was his normal. “Coach is gonna kick me off the team if I don’t get my grades in order.” He explained. “So’s thinkin’ since you’re such a good little nerd, you wouldn’t mind helpin’ me out.”

His hand reached out to tickle your chin.

“M’sure havin’ a cute little nerd-tutor like you is exactly what I need.”

Your throat was so tight you thought you might just choke. “I don’t-”

“Good!” He boasted over your pitiful protest. “Since y’got nothin’ better to do, how ‘bout we just head straight for my dorm right now?” He asked – though you knew better than to think it was a question. “Le’me carry that for yah-”

He yanked your backpack from your chest, ripping it out of the tight hug before throwing it over his own shoulder.

“I can carry you too if yah want?” He posed – smirk loud on his face as he placed his large paws at your waist – followed quickly by you shooting your arms forward to shove him off in protest.

But though you thought you’d put in some strength behind it, the boy in front didn’t budge at all. 

He just arched a brow as though asking if that was really all you had. And you hoped dearly he couldn’t see how the stiff muscles of his shredded chest had actually strained your wrists instead.

“What do you say, short stuff?” He leaned in, his breath foggy on your glasses and hot on your cheeks, as his hands clawed themselves into the fat of your waist, pulling you off your feet just a bit.

“N- no, thank you.” You stuttered out, stumbling a bit as you braced yourself against him. Your eyes squished close as you bowed your head away from him in a mix of fear and embarrassment while you suppressed the mortifying feeling of nearly pissing yourself.

But the tall boy realized little of your inner turmoil – rather enjoying it as he scoffed out an amused laugh at you. “A'ight then, come on.”

He yanked you along – his large paw gripping your arm as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. Nearly needing to resort to jogging where you otherwise tripped when the gap between the two of you became so large you had to skip a step or two to catch up – and before you even realized it, you were already standing outside the boy’s dorm waiting for him to find his keys.

He unlocked the door and welcomed you inside with the same grace of a warden showing a prisoner to their cell – with the weight and breadth of his warm hand on the small of your back as he nudged you inside.

The room had an overwhelming dank scent of both bodyspray and sweat and other things you’d only expect to smell in a boy’s locker room.

“Yo.” Came another voice from inside.

“Sup, roomie.” Your bully replied lazily. Grinning at how you gripped his shirt, all but jumping into hiding behind him. 

You’re cute…

“Who’s that you got there?” His friend arched a brow at you, where you peaked at him from behind your bully’s sleeve.

“I’mma need the room.” He announced, not really answering the question.

The roommate then scoffed with a grin, beholding you with slim eyes for a moment, then scoffed once more before he got up to leave.

“Don’t hit the books too hard – Coach’ll have your ass if you don’t bring your A-game later.” He warned, pulling his gym bag up on his shoulder as he excused himself.

You looked around once he was gone, spotting dumbbells and other equipment – and quickly realized how there must be many more muscles beneath his shirt than what you’d already borne witness. 

“So- uhm-” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you awkwardly turned to the boy. “Where're your books?”

Your bully smiled, taking a casual step toward you. “My books?” He asked, nowhere near even trying to sound the least bit genuinely confused.

“Your- uhm...” You paused, feeling uneasy. “Textbooks?”

His smile sharpened. “That’s cute.” He mocked sweetly while buttoning up the small black buttons of his white uniform shirt, giving a flash of those muscles you’d been anxiously anticipating. “You actually thought we were gonna study?”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Miya twins, Tendou, Ukai ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Full fic with smut available here:

[sunnystrikerz]

Mac and his scary titan privileges :]

[80s4life]

The Things I’ve Never Done Pt.8

Word Count: 2,695

Status: Suggested!

@: @outrosins & numerous lovely Nonnies!

A/N: It;s been like a year of multiple ideas and ways to continue this book, but I’ve finally got the ending in mind. These last chapters are gonna HURT!

Fandom: Titanic 1997

Relationship: Caledon "Cal" Hockley x Brown!Female!Reader

Summary: All dreams come to an end soon enough; and that meant the end of the small vacation on the Titanic. Bonds are formed, broken, and pulled as the last, fond memories of the Titanic come to a close - before its name is encompassed by a dark pit in your heart. 

Warnings: mature language, switches between past and present day Y/N, some angst, fluff, this is April 13th in April 14th, 1912 when the Titanic sinks in the early hours of the morning, dreams of the future, some nostalgia from older Y/N, uncertain future in the end

Masterlist Titanic Masterlist Part One Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4* Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.9   Pt.10 [epilogue]

Taglist: @tangledcopperstrands @snapessecretdiary

{gif is not mine, credits go to @ofdyingdragons​}

Y/N had made her bed that morning, something she didn’t do regularly or without being instructed by her mother. She cleaned her room up and left no traces of dirt behind, skipping breakfast altogether to bask in a long bath. Molly had told the women that she was feeling seasick, allowing her daughter the freedom society only allows rarely.

By lunch, Y/N was draped along a lawn chair on the side deck, reading a novel with a glass of tea. After some choice wording, her mother tore away from the wealthy folk too, and snuck away with her daughter for bonding time. She found her on the deck and played games, describing the shapes of the clouds and just embracing random conversations. It wasn’t much, but it meant the world to Y/N every time they did something like this; to just bask in her companionship and bond with her mother.

And, by night, Y/N sat at the table with the rest of the people once more, claiming she’d felt better with a smile and sly glance at her partners in crime: Caledon Hockley and Molly Brown. It was the same banter, the same gossip. It felt like nothing was out of place and no one had seemed to truly admire the normalcy. 

To Be Continued...

Chapter 8: All Good Things Come To A Bittersweet End

<3rd Person Perspective>

With a glass of wine in her hand, Y/N continues to rock in her chair, eyes blurred as she recounts the memories of decades past. Her eyes are trained on her hand, still holding the sharpened pencil above the drawing in her lap; another one to add to all of her special drawings in the folder on the coffee table beside her. The picture, looking back at her, simply just brings more pain. She can still remember the people she’d met, the roles that were so miniscule then, but mean so much to her now. She can still recall the content happiness, humbled hopes and dreams of the young girl she was. 

That final day was spent dilly dallying and daydreaming, and for once, she recounts feeling whole -  a total and complete fulfillment of what she had on her checklist. She’d found her man of her dreams, saw life for what it was, spent time into education, and was excited for her new adventure in America.

Swirling the alcohol in her glass, she takes a sip. She’d hoped that feeling would’ve lasted. Even now, she fears that feeling would never amount to feel completely and utterly the same again.

///

April 13, 1912

The next day had followed in a blur of events. The poor danced, the rich drank, and everyone talked. As for Y/N, she was found by the stern, cigarette in hand as she watches each individual plume of smoke touch the cold, night air, and disappear. She smirks as she dreams of the future ahead of her and it looks beautiful through her pink shades: a few babies running around buck naked, Cal smiling as he chases them with her placing a hand on her stomach, another to come. They’d be happy with a family of their own, comfortable in their suitable wealth with no other care other than their little bubble they would create.

“There you are,” Cal says softly, his hands going around to encase her waist, head plopping atop her head. “What are you up to?”

“Mischief, of course,” Y/N giggles, one hand going to lay atop his as she finishes off her cigarette. “I was dreaming of our future,” she smiles.

“Ah,” he smirks, “And how does it look?”

Y/N tries to sum up all her feelings into one, beautiful word, choosing them properly, “Gilded and achieved.”

Cal places a kiss on her head, not completely understanding of the choice of words, poking her side to prod her on.

“I would achieve and earn everything I wanted. We would be one, I would be loved and cared for, have a family and live up to my greatest desires. Everything I dreamed I would have as a child would finally finish off the lifelong puzzle I’ve been trying to complete - all I would need would be that final piece.”

“And, what is that final piece?” Cal asks, a look of fear crossing his features as he fears he would not have everything she needed.

“You,” Y/N smiles, turning around in his grasp to wrap her arms around his neck, hands toying with the hairs of his nape. “If I don’t have you, I wouldn’t have that future, would I? At least, not the ending I would hope to obtain without you.”

“I’m right here,” Cal pecks her forehead, “I don’t intend on going anywhere.”

“That’s g-” Y/N is cut off by the sound of boisterous laughter, soon cut off by the company of the pair. 

Jack Dawson and Rose Dewitt Bukater stand before Cal and Y/N, hand in hand with surprise and fear in their eyes. Rose is the first to break the silence, “Cal,” she states, standing defiantly and straight, making sure her hands in Jack’s are known.

“Rose,” Cal says indifferently.

Y/N’s gaze sets upon Cal’s features. He’s fighting an internal war. He knows that he believes Y/N is his forever, but with the sight of Rose, the woman he had been trying to make his wife and future for months, he cannot resist the urge to still fight for her.

“After all this time that I’ve tried to give you everything, to appease your mother and make you both all the more comfortable, you choose him?” Cal asks, a sickness to his tone that causes Y/N to relinquish her grasp on his hand.

She feared this would happen; she feared that she would spend all this time getting to know and love this man for nothing.

“Cal, this does not concern you,” Rose states calmly, trying not to provoke the threatening man.

“This has everything to do with me! What would your mother say? What about your misfortunes, hm? You’d rather be this rat’s whore?”

“I’d rather be his whore than your wife!” Rose yells in defiant freedom. 

Y/N is unable to stand another moment. She’s simply watching the man throw everything away just so he can obtain someone he never had. He simply cannot let the past be the past, and this ruins her. 

With a soft sniff, Y/N tears away from the group, running away from the area to be alone. She starts off on the starboard just as a hand grabs her wrist. “Y/N,” Jack almost questions her, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“How could I be alright?” she almost screams at the young man. “I can’t stand there and watch my heart break for the third time! I can’t keep watching him choose her over and over and over again...There’s simply no space for me here.”

“Y/N, this will all work itself out, I’m sure of it. You can’t let a good thing go. They’ll...They’ll learn that they’re not meant for each other. You just have to keep pushing.”

Y/N sniffles as her arms wrap around herself. “They’ve already gotten into this type of issue before, and for all I know, this may be a young girl’s fling. I’ve only known the man for a short time. This could all just be nothing at all,” Y/N concludes, trying to mature herself for the first time in her young adulthood.

Jack groans, “Do you love him?”

“I don’t even know if it’s-”

“The feelings you have right now, in this moment, is it love, Y/N?”

“I-I think so. What does this even-”

“These feelings are strong, yes? And, it’s so strong that you’re willing to die for him, go poor with him, help him when he’s ill?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all that matters, Sugar,” Jack smiles, “That’s love and you better not waste it, even if it seems helpless. Everything can be fixed.”

“God, you sound like my mother. You need to stop keeping her company,” Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, turning back to Cal and Rose, “But, what about them?”

“Oh, he’ll realize he’s an ass and eventually get over his issues.”

“And, Rose?” Y/N giggles.

“She’ll be mine and waltzing off the ship with me.”

“You seem so certain for such a man of...”

“Oh, no, don’t stop there,” Jack giggles, “Continue off of ‘poor misfortunes.’”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Y/N giggles, shoving his shoulder. 

“I know, and I’ll make it all up to her. Just promise we’ll meet again sometime.”

“As long as you’re still in the country, Jack Dawson.”

“Can’t make any promises. It ruins the fun.”

“Then, you’re just a hypocrite then?”

“Sounds about right,” he giggles, jogging away with a wave as Rose tears away from Cal and back around the other direction of the ship’s stern.

Y/N awaits Him with annoyed devotion, arms crossed as Cal catches her eyes. “You have your fun yet?” she asks with annoyance.

Cal simply says nothing, head bowed with stress and uneven thoughts. He starts to walk over to Y/N once more, but he fears if he gets too close, he’d be even more confused than before.

“I know it’s not love we share, Rose and I, but there’s an obligation somewhere in the wind,” Cal starts, eyes still focused on the ship’s starboard planks. “We were - I chased after her for a long time, Y/N. I went through her father, but then he passed away, so I tried to proceed on my own, but she seemed uninterested. I would’ve left her alone, Y/N, I would have, but then her mother came to me. She said everything would be fixed and she’d convince the stubborn girl.”

“So, you do love her,” Y/N tries to remain nonchalant, hands on her hips as if she’s figuring this mystery out with him. She’s trying, she really is, but she can;t help the feeling she would be discarded; that all she had just said to him and the many days prior were just something Cal needed to heal himself and move on. Y/N couldn’t - wouldn’t - be this girl for him: a rebound.

“That’s where I’m lost!” Cal chuckles stressfully, hand going to comb his hair back before he plays with the rings on his fingers. “I was so caught up in the chase, influenced by others, that I lost that spark I thought I had for her. It’s pitiful, really, but all the same painful for both ends. I didn’t mean to bring her through all of this, but I thought it was love that we shared. I just wanted to be that man for her because everyone thought I was. I don’t think I love her anymore Y/N, but I do feel there is a sense of protection and care that I still carry.”

Y/N looks at him impassively, “Well, do you love me?”

“I don’t think I know what love is, Y/N.”

“That’s not good enough, Cal. I know how I feel for you; I’ve told you a million times over, too. I’m willing to set my life down on you, but I can’t do that if you aren’t willing enough to do the same.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You don’t want to keep me either, it seems.”

“I-I do, Y/N, it’s just difficult,” Cal snaps his eyes to meet hers, hand reaching for hers with a pained look. “I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.”

Y/N stares at his hand for a moment, debating on whether or not she’d be willing to follow this man with his heart in knots. She wants him, she knows this, but the question is if he wants her. She fears she might walk down this path with him and somewhere in the woods, he decides it was all a mistake.

“I think you should talk to Jack,” Y/N suggests with a small smile. “He’s very smart and a good ear. He gives very good advice, too, and it seems you need it.”

Cal tries to reach his hand out for her to grab once more, but she pulls even farther away. 

“I want you to think this over, Cal, please. I need you to think this over just as much as you do. I don’t want either of use to regret this in the end and I wish for you to be happy. I’m not leaving, not yet. Just - think everything over, and don’t put your heart on me just because you know I need you. I’ll be in my room with my mother when you’ve thought it through,” Y/N smiles warmly. “Besides, even if we don’t work out, we can always be companions and have a crazy story to tell. Maybe cut the infidelity part out.”

Slowly, Y/N avoids Cal’s hands as she leans into him. His arms wrap around her waist as she stands in the embrace. His head leans into the crook of her shoulder in a bone-crushing grasp. She would give anything to hug him back, but it would make him the more confused. 

Her hands come up to cup his face, her thumbs stroking the apple of his cheeks. She smiles with a sadness in her features, eyes slightly glossy. Slowly, she leans in to peck a soft kiss to his forehead, then both eyelids, and finally, his mouth with a featherlight touch.

Just as quickly as she had entered his space, she removes herself completely, the immediate chill returning to Cal’s body and heart. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Y/N smirks over her shoulder, keeping face in front of the man who had broken her and filled her up multiple times in their short while being on the RMS Titanic.

Once she is finally out of view does she let her facade fall, tears brimming her eyes quickly as she makes her way to the bow of the ship, needing some air. She wishes this wouldn’t be so hard, but she knows emotions tend to get in the way of things. What may seem to be such a simple answer would be ignorant to include all the attachments and effects a decision has.

Y/N knows, for her own selfish greed, that she would want Cal to be hers fully, but she also knows that that wouldn’t come about easily. Even if Cal were to pick her tonight, he would still have to learn a life without a woman he had grand intentions for; a man who felt so strongly for a woman and her protection just a few days ago - even if the woman never wanted him.

It’s a hard decision.

Y/N continues to think and mull over her options as she sits on a bench at the front decks, basking in the cold and enjoying the view of the stars. Drawn from her thoughts, in the far distance before her, there’s a huge, dark figure.

She jolts up quickly, fearfully watching as the figure grows closer by the second. It doesn’t take long until the true size of the figure, in its everlasting glory, makes itself apparent.

“Iceberg, straight ahead!” the men yell from their posts above her.

Quickly, Y/N runs back towards the starboard of the Titanic where she had last seen Cal, but she isn’t fast enough. The ships turns sharply to the left, the iceberg coming straight for the right side. Her side. Cal’s side. 

She’s forced to throw herself flush with the wall, the ice slamming onto the starboard as a hard, disastrous screech of metal is met with an unstabling shake. Falling on the deck’s wooden planks, she stares in horror as she feels the premature grief and paralyzing fear.

The Titanic has been hit. 

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Hey, does anyone remember that one episode of the OG teen titans where it was that contest of champions or whatever? Becuase...

"Welcome, champions all! I am the Master of Games, and you are hereby invited to compete in the Tournament of the Strongest! Each of you have been specially chosen as the smartest and strongest each species has to offer."

"Hey, isn't that a fourteen-year-old?"

[mwagneto]

i'm sorry but i cannot stop thinking about it for reallll imagine you're richer than god and never had to face consequences for anything and you have so much money you don't even know what to do with it so you toss a quarter million at the stupidest tourism option on earth. and you see that the paper you have to sign tells you you could die and you look at the flimsy metal tube you're going to be plummeting into the ocean in and it doesn't even phase you because bad things don't happen to people like you. imagine some hours into the journey you realise something is wrong. maybe not you but somehow the knowledge that there was a fuckup becomes known to the 5 of you trapped in there. and you know you can't get out from the inside and you know you have no food and no bathroom and not even the room to ever stand up again. when does the realisation that your wealth cannot protect you from your inevitable mortality set in. how does someone like that reconcile with both death and the fact that it's 100% their own doing? can someone like this even come to terms with that or will they be fighting to find someone to blame until the last second? when does it reach you that all 5 of you are going to die one by one and there's nothing you can do? does the fact that 5 of you have enough air until thursday but one of you could have enough air until at least next week ever cross anyone's mind.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

bluetooth j.t.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: A little suggestive if you squint

Word Count: 1.2k words

You don't know how you allowed yourself to get manipulated into being a girlboss and moving out of your childhood home to live in your own apartment. While it was nice to have your own privacy and decorate your home however you liked, you realized just how many privileges you lost now that you weren't in the care of your parents.

There was no one there to make sure you woke up on time in the few cases where you slept through your alarm, no one that you could call on your way back from work to ask to switch on the water heater so you could take a steamy shower immediately.

You didn't have your mother's homecooked meals and you didn't have your father to pick you up snacks from the grocery store.

And one of the biggest thorns in your side was the reason you were dreading the entire day. Car maintenance. The auto shop was one of the most daunting places in your life as a girl who knew nothing about cars. Never once had you regretted not learning how to take care of your car or even the procedure required when you eventually take your car down to the auto shop.

But now standing in the hot and dusty garage, you were seriously rethinking your life choices. You should've scheduled these things for when your dad was visiting so you could ask him to take it instead. Or, even better, you should've gotten a boyfriend.

You were complaining in your head, dragging your feet about having to be here in the first place and whined about handing your car keys, with a bunch of adorable keychains attached to some rando.

But when Jason Todd, 6'2 man with biceps that were larger than your own head and a body that looked like he was shaped out of marble by Michelangelo himself walked out with a form for you to fill out, you were all too happy to be there.

Perhaps you'd be leaving here with a boyfriend after all.

"I have to admit, I don't really know much about cars so please don't scam me."

Jason chuckled, a deep, hoarse laugh that made you a little weak in the knees honestly and the boy-crazed fraction of your brain began to imagine how he would sound as soon as he woke up next to you, after a night of—

"A bit of advice, you probably don't want to let scammers know that you have no idea what they're talking about."

You giggled, scolding yourself mentally for finding that funny.

'Come on, (Y/N), pull yourself together it wasn't even that funny. His face is just great delivery.'

"Or I could keep coming here and have you check my car, since you're so trustworthy." You mused, sparing him a teasing smile.

Jason was completely picking up what you were putting down, giving you a coy smile of his own before responding, "Or perhaps this is just a tactic to get you to keep coming back."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, "Devious."

Looking back at his little clipboard, a thin metal rod of some kind tucked behind his ear instead of a pen, Jason asked, "When was the last time you got your car checked out? If your battery and brake pad was replaced recently, we could probably skip that and just do a routine check to make sure everything's running smoothly."

You winced, "I couldn't tell you, honestly. My dad usually handles this kinda stuff for me, I'm still kind of a new lamb when it comes to taking care of my car."

Jason raised his eyes from the clipboard for a second, "Your boyfriend can't do this kinda stuff for you instead?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

He perked up immediately and you ducked your head to hide your smile, "I'm sure you probably have a record of it in your glovebox or something. Most places keep a little sticker with the date of your last service under the dash. I'll check it out for you, do you have somewhere to be, or do you have a couple minutes so I can make sure?"

You shook your head, shrugging your shoulders with a carefree smile, "It's my day off so I'm free as a bird."

He grinned, "Noted. Just give me a second."

You watched his back receding as he walked toward your car, shoulders looking like they could span the entire ocean and it was only when he was sat in the car and had turned on the engine did you whip out your phone at lightspeed.

"Ohmygosh Julie, I think I just met my future husband. Holy shit. He's so cute—gorgeous actually. He's working on my car right now and God, those arms, wow. And those eyes? God, I feel blessed just by looking at his face." The end of your message was interrupted by another mechanic running the engine.

You waited patiently for the sound of the engine to die before replaying the voice message so you could re-record the part that got cut off. Only you couldn't hear a thing.

Confused, you increased the volume, taking a sip from your coffee to soothe the inhumane squeal that you had let out while sending Julie the voice message. Once again you heard nothing.

You bit your lip at this, swiping down at the corner of your phone at access your control center and realizing the reason you couldn't hear anything was because it was connected to the Bluetooth on your car.

Wait.

THE CAR?!

You whipped around in horror only to find Jason smirking at you from the front seat of your car. If the world were fair, you'd be struck down with lightning right then and there. Or, since you were at an auto shop, a sentient car might run you over.

Alas, you continued to stand there in horror, completely unharmed no matter how badly you wished to be reduced to a puddle on the ground.

You called him your future husband. The ground should've swallowed you then and there. Instead, you just stood there in complete mortification and embarrassment while you stared at his amused expression.

Something startled him out of his gaze for a second and he pointed at your console, making a gesture like he was taking a call. Confused, you glanced at your phone.

'Incoming call: Julie'

Ah, saved by the bell.

*

"How much do I owe you?" You asked, quickly popping open your purse to fish out your credit card. You had stretched out the conversation with Julie as long as possible, begging her not to hang up and only interrupting her tangent when Jason finally came up to you, saying that your car was good to go.

"It's on the house." He gave you a charming grin, leaning an arm against the counter, "Can't have my future wife paying for anything, can I?"

Your cheeks flared red, still holding out your card for him to take, "O-Oh, I couldn't, really."

"If you insist, then you can always repay me with dinner. Today's your day off, right? Think you can pencil me in for 7?"

A shy smile grew on your face, your body so warm you had to resist fanning your burning cheeks, "Sounds like a plan."

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

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@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

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@some-lovely-day

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ COME BACK TO BED — levi ackerman

summary . . . you crave levi, but he isn't there when you wake up.

contents . . . f!reader, nsfw mdni, cock warming, office (?) sex, creampie, piv, unprotected sex, fluff, honestly i haven't been in much of a mood to write smut but this has been in my drafts for a while so it gets really soft at the end— 2.2k

you walk into the room, frowning at the sight of your lover still behind his desk, bent over the parchment. light shadows his face, sparkling over him like a candle, illuminating him in a yellow hue. he’s so beautiful, and you ache for him. the desperation inside of you only grows, even though it is dually coated in worry. 

“levi?” you say, lips drawn down as you approach, blinking away your sleepiness. “why are you still working?” 

it’s nearly three in the morning; the bed was cold and empty when you left, and the middle of winter was unforgiving. though levi didn’t sleep often, he, at least, made an effort to when you were at his side. tonight, though, it seems he’s given up on the matter, scribbling notes on the paperwork instead.

“i have to finish this by tomorrow,” levi says, dismissive, not even bothering to glance up. 

your frown deepens, and you repeat his name, softer as you come around the side of the desk. you’d woken up so desperate for him, and when he was not there to coax an orgasm out of you, you’d tried to take on the task yourself. 

though, your fingers didn’t feel as nice as his did, hadn’t reached the places inside of you that his cock could. and, you craved it, craved him so much that you hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. 

“come back to bed,” you mutter, but even then, you can hear the desperation in your voice, the subtle tone that it takes on whenever you want him badly. 

his writing stops. he turns back to you, eyes hardening as you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. you run your soft fingertips along the juncture between his neck and jaw, batting your eyelashes at him so sweetly. 

there’s a dark look in his irises that you pick up on easily, but you can’t tell if he’s irritated with you, or if it’s the lust that is spreading in the ocean of his eyes. his jaw sets, and his normally straight mouth draws tighter. “i have to finish this.” 

“can i stay here, then?” 

he sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek. “i’m—”

you can already hear his protest, how he’ll say your name so softly in an apology, kiss you on the lips before sending you back to your shared room. but you’re determined to get your way tonight, and you can feel the wetness gathering between your legs, the ache still thrumming through your body. 

“want you inside me, levi,” you say softly, almost begging as you lean down to whisper into his ear. “please.” 

levi stops, eyeing you with the intensity that he faces with everyone, an intensity that doesn’t always soften for you. still, by now, you’re used to it — find it endearing, really, how serious he can be. 

“you going to be a distraction?” levi scans your face. 

you jut your lower lip out just a bit, almost pouting, “no,” you promise. “just want to feel you.” 

for a moment, he considers, before finally relenting. levi sighs, then pulls back the chair, his strong thighs on display as you maneuver yourself onto his lap. even the brief feeling of his knee against your clothed cunt sends a sharp whimper through you. 

“you can’t move. i’ve put this off for long enough.” 

“since when did you care about any of that?” you ask, yawning as you slip your pants off your hips. “i thought hange did the paperwork, anyway.” 

“if only.” he gives you a pointed look, tracing your jaw with his thumb. “just sit still.” 

levi focuses his attention back on the paperwork, and when you spare a brief glance at it, you notice that it’s reports from the past few missions. for the government in the interior, assigned specifically to captain levi. 

you refrain from a sarcastic remark, and instead, slide levi’s zipper down, waiting for any reaction. he gives you none, signs his name on the bottom line, and flips the parchment over. 

“levi,” you start, but he shushes you again, kissing your cheek dismissively. 

“no talking.” 

“you’re so rude.” 

he raises his eyebrow, but you slide his cock out of his pants, warming it in your palm. a soft little sigh leaves him as you stroke him until he’s hard, but he schools his expression into a neutral position, leaning back in the chair. 

you’re naked from the waist down, but he doesn’t seem to care. with something of a frown, you slip his cock inside you and sink your hips down. your fingers dig into his shoulders as you move, sliding right into him.

levi’s dark eyes dart towards you. “shit,” he gasps, his other hand holding onto your hips. “why are you so wet already?” 

a small whimper leaves you as he fills you up, stretches your walls, as you settle onto his cock. though it feels so good, you squeeze his arms and try not to move. “you weren’t there when i woke up,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the space between his neck. “so i tried to take care of it myself.”

levi’s eyes flash. “dirty girl.” his voice is deeper, a rumble that you feel in his chest. “couldn’t help but touch yourself to the thought of me when i wasn’t there, hm? but i bet your fingers weren’t enough, were they?” 

you exhale deeply, shaking with the need to move as your walls flutter around him. “levi.” 

“needed my cock inside you instead, didn’t you, love? probably would’ve begged me to fuck you until you were tired enough to fall back asleep.” 

“god, levi, please.” you start, and you shift your hips once. your clit rubs right against him, his long cock settling inside you as a heavy moan almost escapes. instead, you bite down hard on his neck; but levi forces you down even harder on his lap, his eyes relentless. 

“i told you not to move, didn’t i?”

you blink back at him, but his face is serious, hardened lines stretching from each angle of his face. and though you want fuck yourself on his dick, and every atom in your being tells you to do so, you listen to him. somehow, you refrain from shifting your hips again.

sitting still, you bury your face into his neck and heave a great sigh, brushing the delicate skin beneath his jaw. 

“good girl,” levi says flippantly, his long, slender finger grazing up your spine. the simple words alone send a pulse straight through your body, and you whimper against him, your cunt squeezing tighter, wet from the deep intonation of his voice. 

levi says nothing else, but you can feel his smirk as he kisses your temple. he never fails to remind you how precious you are to him, even when he is a bit short with you. and even though he is never the best about telling you how much he loves you, his affections run deep.

he plays with the end of your hair, soothingly, and though you can’t ignore him deep inside you, it almost lulls you back into a peaceful sleep. 

after what feels like hours of subtle torture, you speak again. 

“levi,” you hum against his throat, when he flips another page, signing his name on the dotted line. “i love you so much.” 

his hand stills on your back, fingers tapping once against your spine before resuming. it’s still difficult for him to repeat the words, but you know it’s only out of his fear that you will one day be taken away from him. levi squeezes your hip once more, huffs, and sets the pen down. 

“i’m certain you know how much you mean to me,” levi returns, pulling you away from his neck so that you’re able to face him once again. “you’re supposed to be being quiet.” 

his face is stern, but his eyes are anything but; soft and loving. levi’s cheeks are flushed red, and though he is strong — the strongest — that alone is not enough to combat how he feels when he’s inside you. it brings a small, knowing smile to your face.

“i was being sweet,” you say, sleepily, testing your luck by lifting your hips and settling them once more. the feeling is more intense than you’d expected, and a little moan escapes your mouth, lips parting softly. “i do love you.” 

“i’m certain you’re just trying to butter me up,” levi’s mouth is against your own, the words leaving on a shaky breath, tickling your skin. “so you can get what you want.” 

you laugh, fanning your fingertips against his cheeks. “is it working?”

levi spares you one more hardened expression, tightly drawing his mouth together, before he’s lifting you, shifting you onto the desk, your back pressed against the papers. “unfortunately,” he grunts, kissing all over your face before he threads his fingers with your own. “god. the things you do to me. can’t think straight.” 

he thrusts up into you, hard, and you close your eyes, kissing him, much more slowly than the pace he sets with his hips. levi squeezes your palm tightly, the other roaming across your chest, your stomach, before settling at your hips. “you’re everything to me, you know? my beautiful girl. don’t know what i’d do without you.” 

you smile against his mouth and tug at his hair with your free hand, feeling the soft tendrils between your fingers. it’s ironic, that he thinks you’re beautiful, when you’re certain he’s the most angelic creature you’ve ever seen. “i’m not going anywhere, levi. i promise.” 

levi speeds up, involuntarily, eyes so intense as he watches every subtle change of your expression. but you are too sleepy to do much but breathe into his mouth, soft little moans that have levi thrusting into you twice as hard.

it doesn’t take long for him to coax the first orgasm out of you, and you’re barely able to whisper his name before you clench around him, squeezing the palm that’s still locked within your own.

levi smiles, but it’s snarky, a mix between satisfaction and annoyance. “looks like you got your way after all.” 

you laugh, breathless, kissing across his cheeks as he grows sloppy, chest heaving with the weight of his exhales. though levi wants to pin this all on you, you can tell that he needs to relax too. the past few hours without a moment of sleep, doing nothing but paperwork, have taken a toll on him. 

“must be so hard for you, huh?” you tease, eyelashes fluttering closed as you lean against him, letting your forehead drop to his shoulder. “getting to fuck me on a desk like this. what a chore.” 

“you shouldn’t talk to your captain like that,” levi teases, but he groans out the last few words, cheeks flushed from how close he is. lazily, your fingers run across his chest, and though a second orgasm is steadily building, you want to watch him come apart first.

“perhaps,” you say, smiling as you kiss his chest, your hair tickling the bottom of his jaw. “but i’m not talking to my captain, i’m talking to you, levi.” you lean back up to kiss him, once, again, just the softest brush of your lips. “and i want you to cum inside me.” 

levi’s eyes flash, and you can see the moment that he unravels, the next few seconds where his movements get erratic. then, his features change, plump bottom lip separating from the top one. the look in his eyes grows distant, and his stomach flexes, abs tightening, before the heat of his cum shoots inside of you. 

levi topples onto you, his chest landing on yours as you fall back onto the desk. his cock finally slips out of you.

“shit,” levi says, running his hands along your thighs, sweaty skin sticking to each other. “we’re going to ruin the papers.” 

“who cares,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes before encircling levi’s neck with your arms. “the military police can deal with the mess.”

“you’re disgusting.” 

“they’d probably get off on it, don’t you think? the interior is full of hedonists anyway.”

levi snorts. “maybe. but i prefer not to think about how they spend their free time.”

you laugh again, just a breath of air, and settle against him. levi is warm, his arms are strong, and he smells clean; a mix of soap and the sweet fragrant of citrus. he holds you so gently, despite all of the hardness that lingers in his body. you’ve never known anyone to feel so much like home.

“will you come to bed now?” you ask sleepily. “i don’t want to go to sleep alone.” 

levi softens, and he traces your cheekbone with his thumb, as best he can at the awkward angle. “sure, love. i should get some rest anyway.”

[angelbwrry]

since you want requests!!! Connie’s a fucking hoe, always cheating/ got bitches in his phone. But when y/n do something she gets fucked UPP😩

figures. connie s. 2k.

cw𐙚 cheating, fingering, choking, dirty-talk, squirting, multiple orgasms . . . connie springer is a fucking asshole and you’re stupid. minors shoo!

everyone referred to connie springer as the college campus ‘playboy’. even connie welcomed this label openly and confidently. he wrapped before he tapped, and that was all that mattered. he wasn’t ashamed that he liked to mess around, no harm no foul in his eyes.

the college buzzed with gossip when he’d revealed he had a girlfriend.people thought you were an airhead for dating someone of his status,little did you realize they’d been right.

you’d transferred colleges mid-semester because you found your original one lacked basic principles and adequacy. not to mention the professors seemed to resent their jobs and took it out on the students.

on your first day at the new college, you were completely lost. the campus was enormous, easily twice the size of your old one, with room to spare. despite receiving a layout of the school, you continued to get confused and turned around. your frustration had grew as your social anxiety spiked.

a man came up to help you, surprising you. you couldn’t deny how cute he was—with his athletic build, short sandy buzzcut, pretty smile, and the most enchanting eyes you'd ever seen. they were hazel, a mixture of green and brown speckled with gold.

“you seem a little lost,you must be new?” connie questioned, a warm smile on his face. he’d stood so close that his cologne had been practically smothering.

you’d laughed softly,shifting your book-bag on your shoulder.

“that obvious,huh?"

connie had nudged you playfully with an inked arm and quipped, "just don't see pretty girls like you around here often.”

you had felt your face burn at the compliment, looking down sheepishly at your white-painted toes.

“i’m connie by the way”

you smiled,”y/n”

you wish you could rewind time to this exact moment and warn yourself to run away from connie springer as fast as you can. he had a way of making you feel important, but underneath it all, he was nothing more than a sex addict narcissist.

he’d decided to take the opportunity to talk to you when he saw you standing there with a quizzical look on your face. up close, you were even more beautiful with your curls that smelled like coconut swaying in the wind, smooth skin, two-tone plump lips lined in brown covered by a glossy top coat, soft eyelashes that shaped your eyes beautifully.

connie never intended to date you, but the more he spent time with you, the more his feelings grew. maybe it was the way your nose scrunched when you focused or your laugh that always made him smile. or perhaps it was your radiant smile that could light up a whole room.

after six months of talking and meeting almost daily, connie asked you to be his girlfriend. you said yes without hesitation, which later became your greatest regret.

the first time you realized connie was cheating on you, you’d slapped him right across his stupid fucking face with your ring, leaving blood dripping down his cheek.

“you think you’re slick? unlock the phone cause settings isn’t texting you at three am!” you seethed,you were in your bonnet and robe. you’d been laid up with connie in your dorm when his phone kept vibrating,and to your surprise he had the contact saved under ‘settings’.

the fiery look in your eyes terrified connie who had never been hit by a woman. he unlocked the phone and sat on the bed, simultaneously pulling his shirt over his toned frame.

you laughed and warned, “yeah, you better put your clothes on because you're about to get your dumb ass out of here.”

you looked through his phone and discovered his conversations with numerous girls that he had been hiding from you. he assured you that he hadn’t met with any of them, but you found it hard to trust his words. the sting of betrayal hit you deeply, and you cried into your pillow all night.

the initial three days following the breakup were extremely hard, and crying every ten minutes made it impossible for you to go to classes. missing connie amplified your agony.

connie, naturally, felt awful about hurting you. he tried to find you during his breaks between classes but kept missing you, assuming you were avoiding him. every glance at his scar in the mirror reminded him of his mistake.

you had already eaten half a box of snickers ice cream when your phone pinged.

it was connie.

you blocked his number, but he continued to text you from burner numbers, pestering you until you unblocked him. you foolishly chose to talk to him in his car and found yourself wedged between the headrest and the backseat while connie had rough sex with you.whispering sweet nothings and apologizing. with cunning precision, he prodded into your g-spot with that devil of his while asking you to take him back.

lost in the moment, you nodded your approval with a whiny ‘okay’

despite everything, connie continued to cheat consistently. whenever you saw incriminating messages on his phone or caught him flirting, you'd leave him. he’d then flood your phone with calls until you agreed to meet him, where he would persuade you to take him back.

it was an endless cycle that you couldn't escape. even though you wanted to leave connie and never look back, your love for him remained strong, and he knew it. your friends called you a fool, and they were right—you felt incredibly foolish staying with a man who had proven unfaithful time and time again.

one night during a girls' get-together, sasha, one of your best friends, said, 'treat him the way he treats you. seriously, men cannot handle a taste of their own medicine!” she threw you a knowing look while munching on a handful of Skittles.

“connie’s ego is so damn big y/n.how do you tolerate him? it’s almost suffocating," annie,your other friend budged in.

“yeah,tell me about it,” you responded with a scoff.

three weeks have passed since your last conversation with connie, and you find yourself lying in bed reflecting on sasha's words from the sleepover.

you never imagined conjuring up plans to cheat on your partner, never envisioned dropping to connie's level. an idea suddenly struck you—to send connie a text 'accidentally' inviting another boy over.

you wanna come over eren? me and connie are fighting right now, i could use some dick

eren jaeger was a boy from your english classes, you two had went on a date.you really liked him but you were still in love with connie, so not wanting to lead him on you broke things off after a month.

eren had grew furious as he struggled to comprehend why you kept allowing yourself to get hurt. you two had gotten into an heated argument and you’d stormed out of his car, never to talk to him again.

you pushed eren from your mind. it felt incredible to come at connie like this as you typed out your message. you were pretty sure he was balls deep in some other girl, so you didn’t expect your phone to buzz right away after sending it.

you couldn't deny that it was exciting to provoke connie like that, it felt good giving him a taste of his own medicine. to your surprise, twenty minutes later, he was standing outside, hammering on the door.

you considered opening it as your anxiety grew as you feared he might yank it off its hinges. his constant calls aggravated you and all this while he stood on the other side of the door.

you’d forgotten to turn your ringer off and he could hear the default iphone ringtones as he spammed your phone.

“y/n open this door. i know you're in there,you’re being mad childish.” connie yelled,irritation evident in his tone.

you could barely believe his nerve for calling you childish, which made you scoff aloud.anger now pulsing through you, you yanked open the door ready to retaliate in words but were silenced when his lips collided forcefully with yours.

his kiss was so intense it left your lips feeling immediately tender; unable to control yourself, a whimpered sound left through your lips. his hand wrapped around your throat, other closing the door shut.

with connie's tight grip on you, one hand tangled in your hair and the other wrapped around your neck, you two walked backwards to your bed.

he had a look in his eyes you'd never seen before, and you felt a hungry tingling sensation in your clit for him.

you realized in that moment you were just as toxic as connie. here he was was choking you up, making you wet; his hands spreading your legs and moving your panties aside.

as he slid a finger into your wetness, you let out a pathetic moan.

"are you planning to sleep with jaeger behind my back?" he whispered sinisterly, and you stayed silent. you weren’t about to reveal that it was just a ruse, because his cheating ass deserved to feel exactly what you felt. because he’d make you feel like that for half a year.

“oh now you ain’t got nun to say? watch how i fuck this confession outta you.” connie muttered,his hands cupping your thighs and placing you on the bed.

connie fucked you relentlessly that night, pounding into you with unbelievable speed. you couldn't keep track of how many times you climaxed and squirted, and despite your soreness, connie kept going without concern.

he choked, spanked, and demanded you to take all of him.

all you could was lay there and take it, he’d fucked your mouth,your ass, and now he was back in your quivering pussy.your voice was hoarse from moaning all night and all you could do was whimper and whine as he stroked your pussy.

you couldn't stand the way connie knew your body so well; with one touch, you would become immediately wet. he was aware of every position that made you orgasm fast,aware that if he licked your nipples you’d squirt, and even though you weren’t keen on anal, he made it enjoyable for you.

"whose pussy is this?" connie panted as he drove into you, his thumb tucked in your tight asshole.

"y-yours, connie," you moaned out in joy, tears streaming down your face as the sound of slaps filled the room. your eyes shut tightly, biting back a cry as connie employed a deep thrust.

"am i the only one who can fuck you like this?" he asked, scalp stinging as he forced your head back by your hair.

"yes,” you whimpered.

“good, don’t forget that mamas.”

y/n girllll…you weak in the knees.STAND UP.

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