#Bitterness and a sense of superiority | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thecranberriesslut · 6 months ago

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Fawn and the wolf

Summary: You're the smallest one on the team, and you have the compulsive need to prove yourself to Ghost... but have you chewed off more than you can swallow?

Pairing: Simon!Ghost Riley x Fem!Reader 'Bambi'

Warnings: Unspecified age gap, but implied that it's large, Power imbalance (military superior and soldier), DubCon, Degradation, Forcefulness, Smut, Dirty themes, Dirty talk, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Unsafe use of a gun... Read at your own risk

Wc: 4k

Notes: I have never written cod smut before and I know nothing about military stuff so bare with me, also this is way darker than my previous pieces, just a heads up. I love your notes in the comments so tell me what you think! also note that Bambi is a nickname.

You stretch your arms, extending them in front of your chest, rolling your wrists around. The smell of coffee invades your every sense—on early mornings like these on base, the cheap coffee your superiors buy for the worn down common room is like your own personal brand of cocaine, the only thing that wakes you up after sleeping too little.

The physical aspects of military training are tough. They were almost a deal-breaker for you when you first came here... but over time, they had gotten easier. You had grown to enjoy the burn of a long run or the sting of a cold shower after extensive muscle training. After a while, feeling and seeing the results became almost addictive—but that didn't take away from the fact that most days, you were almost too tired to function. Most of the required workouts you were forced to endure were designed for men twice your size, and frankly, you found it a bit sexist. Why couldn't your superior adjust them to fit you better? It would take him a maximum of 20 minutes. You had come to the conclusion that he was a sadistic asshole who enjoyed torturing you every single day with insane workouts.

You hear the coffee drip slowly into the pot. You're too tired to fully open your eyes—even putting on gear this morning had felt like an impossible task. But here you were, awake (barely), in gear, and ready to start training in a couple of minutes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you have the huge coffee mug in your hands—burning hot, probably making the skin beneath it fiery red, but you are too exhausted to care.

You barely have time to swallow your first sip of the steaming, bitter, brown liquid when the door to the common room opens forcefully. Like instinct, you are up and alert—you can't show weakness here. You're already considered the runt of your entire team, being the youngest and also a woman. You turn around, ready to greet whoever it is with the alertness and determination of a starving fox during winter, hunting for the last rabbit left in the forest.

"Mornin', Bambi." Ghost said, his voice hoarse—but his manner alert and assertive, like always.

Bambi is your nickname on base, given to you by squadmates the first week you arrived. You liked to think it was because you were pretty like a fawn, but obviously, it was given to you for more degrading purposes. Everyone on your team thought of you as inexperienced, naive, and wide-eyed. But everyone had their own slightly degrading nickname, even your commander, Ghost. His real name was Simon Riley, but he was given the name Ghost because he stood out and had a tendency to move around quietly, like a ghost, not to mention his patent skull hood, a tactic to scare or to hide? No one knew.

"Good morning, sir," You said, trying to sound as awake as possible, waiting for the tension in the room to cool off before taking another careful sip of your coffee.

Ghost walks over to the coffee maker nonchalantly and pours himself a tall cup of coffee. You are surprised that he would even need caffeine—he's like a machine, inhuman—you've never seen him show any signs of weakness, and the manner in which he leads the team is brutal. He doesn't care if you're too tired to do push-ups; he will make you do them. Sometimes you consider the possibility that he just has no human emotions, or that he's a robot or something. Regardless of all this, you often find yourself with a compulsive need to make him happy. It's like you have to prove yourself to him constantly. You rarely complain to him about the difficult exercises he puts your team through, although you want to.

You've never been the kind of girl that just sits there quietly and lets everyone walk all over her. No—you’re the kind of girl who used to stand up for her friends in elementary school when the boys would pull their hair. You're the kind of girl that couldn't be mistaken for a doormat because you make your opinions known. If you weren't so fiery, you would never make it in the squad. Your squadmates are like brothers to you. You play rough—but when it comes to Ghost, you find that all your outward confidence just crumbles in his vicinity, and you become this pathetic rookie he can treat however he wants to. Although, you find that the same happens to most of the men on your team. Ghost is eerily calm; he radiates this quiet, overpowering energy, like a psychological horror film. And it makes everyone below him obey his commands like dogs. But it also makes you crave his approval. He never yells at you, but he never praises you either—it makes you almost obsessively try to get a reaction out of him with your good work on the exercises.

“We're doing the shooting range and combat alone today. Don't be late.” And with that, he's out of the door, leaving behind nothing but an empty coffee mug and a slight lingering smell of smoky cologne.

As you stand anxiously at the metal door of the gun range, it's like your body is stopping you from going in. You can feel the harsh cargo pants rubbing against your legs in an annoying manner, and your shirt feels too tight around your armpits—also, the coffee you drank did nothing but replace your tiredness with urgent nervousness. You've never trained with Ghost alone, but last week you were sick, so this morning you had to wake up before the sun to play catch-up with him. You are a great shooter, it's in your blood… but you have a gnawing feeling that being so close to Ghost will mess with your aim, and you will disappoint him.

You swallow the lump in your throat and force your hand to go up to the door handle. As you push open the heavy door, the lighting inside the gun range is dim—you can barely make out Ghost's silhouette, standing near the guns. You step inside carefully, as if you need to be quiet. But the gun range was far from housing; it stood alone on the other side of the base, with only woods surrounding it—you're also pretty sure it's soundproof, but not entirely sure. The range smells like mold and gunpowder, it's oddly comforting.

“Are you just going to stand there or come in?” Ghost says in a low voice, sounding indifferent—but nonetheless intimidating. You make your way inside and close the door behind you.

“Lock it.” He commands, not even trying to phrase it as a question, just a blunt order. You feel a little confused as to why he would want you to lock the door, but alas, you twist the lock until it clicks, and walk over to Ghost wearily.

“No lights?” You ask, trying to calm your nerves by talking, your hands finding the hem of your shirt and fidgeting with it.

“Burnt fuse. I expect you have no trouble shooting in the dark, rookie?” He says—it sounds like a snarky remark. You're annoyed at his tone. Obviously, you find it hard to shoot in the dark—but you can't tell him that. He'd paint you as weak and incapable.

“No problem.” You gear up, putting on hearing protectors and safety goggles. You take a gun, a simple, sleek Beretta 91, and you point it at the cardboard target ahead, waiting for Ghost to give you the okay to shoot. You are faced with silence. As you turn to look at Ghost, you see him standing next to you with a wide stance, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his black t-shirt tightening and showing off his muscles. He stares you down intensely.

“What are you doing wrong?” He asks, sounding annoyed, like you should know all this by now—although you haven't even trained shooting much.

“I—I don't know.” You hesitate, checking that the gun safety is off, your gear is on, and that you're facing the right way—you look at Ghost, confused.

“Your stance is all wrong, Bambi.” Without giving you a second to react, he moves behind you and guides your hands to the correct position. He kicks your legs farther apart and taps your thigh to signal you to move your foot slightly to the left. The gesture has nothing inherently sexual to it, but it makes a knot start to form in your lower stomach.

Ghost isn't a bad-looking man, or at least his body isn't—no one on your team has ever seen his face. He hides behind his signature skull balaclava daily, only revealing his dark brown eyes, and you presume he only takes it off to sleep and shower… if then. He has the type of body that any respectable captain would be expected to have—he's all muscle and mass. Not only that, but he's tall and broad, and if he was anyone else, you'd be trying to flirt with him every time you saw him… but even attempting to flirt with a higher-up is highly frowned upon here—you would both get fired. Also, it's not so difficult to push aside your feelings for someone who makes you train until failure every single day and rules your unit with an iron fist.

“Shoot.” Ghost orders, keeping his hold on your upper arms, directing the gun to hit the target right in the chest. He's standing so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off him—he towers over you, and being caged in his hold like this sort of makes you feel safe. The feeling doesn't last long when he removes his hands from yours and steps back, resuming his position as the judgy officer watching you train intently.

“Now try it by yourself. Less than seven points, and you get punished.” He says, his voice dark and determined. He looks at you through narrow eyes, and his stance remains official and intimidating. It's not even his worst request—last night, he punished your fellow teammate with 100 push-ups for laughing during training. If he made you do that many push-ups right now, you would probably collapse—you needed to get this.

With nervous, shaky hands, you point the barrel of the pistol the same way as last time, you gather all your courage, only able to think of one thing— one hundred push-ups, before sunrise. Or maybe he'll make you do something worse, 200 burpees… 150 pull-ups. You shake off the distracting thoughts and by some miracle, you pull the trigger-- the bullet hits the very corner of the cardboard target, and you visibly cringe at the sight. You got zero points… you curse yourself in your mind, how could you be this bad, now he's going to make you do so many push-ups. Slowly, you turn to look at Ghost— he doesn't look disappointed, his position remains calm and collected, and that's what scares you the most.

“Get on your knees.” He says, darkly, you think it's a joke at first, but his eyes remain serious. Your eyes widen as you try to process the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Now.” He adds, when you don't move. Maybe it's just your dirty mind… maybe he meant nothing crude with it, maybe it's a new form of punishment in your squad. So you put the gun down on the cold metal desk, and slowly, anxiously, you start to lower yourself onto your knees. Ghost remains cool, his gaze following yours, as you fall lower and lower, until your knees hit the ground. He takes a couple of steps closer to you, forcing you to be face to face with his crotch. He picks up the gun from the desk, and your mouth goes dry when you try to focus, to hear the safety click on, but it never does. He crouches down slightly, and brings the barrel to your chin, lifting your chin up, and straining your neck as you're forced to look up at him.

“Do you think I haven't noticed the way you look at me when I teach combat?” He asks, his voice remaining low and calm. You're shaking, with nervousness or anticipation— you're not entirely sure.

“I— ” You begin your sentence, but are quick to notice that no other words are coming out— you wonder what he'll do to you… he might send you home, or hurt you.

“I know all the others think you're this naive little Bambi, but I see through that— you're a fucking slut.” He puts emphasis on the word slut, and the contrast between his collected voice, and the crude words, makes the knot in your lower stomach tighten, and worsens the heat between your thighs.

“And you think I don't hear you in the common room, complaining to the others about my training methods—it's like you're begging to be put in your place.”

“I haven't sai-” You begin frantically explaining, but quickly stop as he hits the gun against your chin, a clear sign to remind you who's in control.

“I suggest you shut the fuck up.” He stares into your eyes with the intensity of a hungry wolf. You expect that sort of raw intensity from him, but you are never prepared for it. You can see the conflict in his mind, in his eyes—you can almost feel what he's thinking. Furthermore, you can sense the war going on in his head; you are fighting the exact same one in yours.

“You know—in war, the good people get eaten.” He starts, enigmatically.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what happens to the smart people?” He asks, almost expecting you to give the wrong answer, his demeanor remaining slightly degrading.

“They survive?” You ask, unsure of what he's trying to say.

“They go bad.”

You look at him, confused. His words sound almost apocalyptic. You're trying to figure out what he means by them… does he mean that he's gone bad? Maybe that you should go bad? What does going bad even mean?

“Which one are you, little Bambi?”

“Smart.”

“Wrong answer.” He throws the gun on the floor, the safety remaining off, but you have no time to think about gun safety right now— as he begins to forcefully unbuckle his black, leather belt, you can't help but feel all your senses heightened, intensely pumping through your body. You can feel the heat rising up your chest, over your throat, into your cheeks and ears, turning them undoubtably red. You can hear the broken clock on the wall tick sporadically, in a completely unorganized manner. The sound of his belt buckle flying open almost hurts your ears. You imagine this is what rabbits feel, in that small window of time, right before they get eaten, when they feel the fox's eyes on them, lurking somewhere in the dangerous night. You look up into his eyes, pleading with your gaze, but you are met with a look that could almost be mixed up with sympathy. He looks like a disappointed teacher, handing you a test with a failed grade, knowing that he's the one who failed you, but displays a fake, degrading sympathy in his eyes.

He takes his cock out of his black cargo pants, it looks almost intimidating. You can't see his mouth, but you swear he's smiling a sadistic smile under his mask. He wraps his big, warm hand, into your hair, where your occiput meets the back of your neck, and he pulls your head back— the motion stings, but it brings your attention to him, away from your thoughts. When he sees you've returned from inside your head, to the current moment, he pushes your head forward. Instinctively, you open your mouth, almost inviting him in— he stuffs his rock-hard cock into your mouth, with little regard for your feelings.

“See, you're too good for war, Bambi.” He remarks, his voice soft, you can feel the patronizing tone pierce through you and hit the warm spot between your legs like lighting. You try to answer him, but your mouth lets out a small, pathetic moan, as he pushes himself further into your throat, making your eyes tear up.

“A smart girl would've never come into a dark shooting range with a dangerous man. You're too good, and you're too dumb— that's why you get eaten alive.” His words remain condescending, degrading, but his voice keeps a calm, soft tone, which contrary to what you'd hope it would do, turns you on like nothing you've ever experienced before.

Finally, he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, confused as to why he would stop before he finished— but it gives you an eerie sensation that there's more to come. And while you wish you could hate this, while you wish you could call him an absolute creep and report him to someone… you were smart. You had come into this dark room with this dangerous man, with full awareness and a calculated plan. You saw how he looked at your pleading eyes when he made you train until failure. Furthermore, you saw the bulge in his pants when in late night combat sessions he got you under him, and you looked like a scared rabbit. When you started in his unit, a while ago— you gathered that the best way to survive, was to play into the naive role, in reality, you were exceptionally smart, top of your class. But they didn't need to know that. Every single time Ghost talked down on you, you felt like you had the control, you'd made the decision to act dumb, to get him to lose control ever so slightly, because he gave into his anger.

Much to your avail, he turns around, going to fetch something out of the gun range closet. Dumb move, because when he was turned away from you, you grabbed the gun off the floor, making a quick, uncalculated move. As he turns around, he sees you nowhere, despite being a tough military officer, he feels a slight eeriness about not seeing you… like in horror movies, when the innocent kid starts acting odd and eventually kills everyone. He stands still, looking around the pitch black room as best as he can, until he feels the cold nozzle of a pistol on his mid back. He turns to face you, with a blank expression, and you see the rope in his hands.

“The smart people go bad, no?” You smile a wicked grin, you have the control now… and you want him to know it.

“Drop the rope and get on the floor.”

You thought he'd resist, that he'd fight the gun off your hands— but he just lays down on the cold concrete, and supports his head on his hands, and smiles at you, a smile proposing a challenge. You keep the gun in your hand, as you make your way on top of him, straddling him.

“What's your big, smart plan now, Bambi?” He says, with an annoying amount of confidence painting his words.

You bend down on top of him, and push your lips against his, like you want to devour him. His lips feel surprisingly soft, and you can still taste the faint residue of coffee and cigarettes on his tongue. He doesn't fight for dominance, instead, he sort of submits to the kiss, letting you take the lead. You feel like you've won the game, until his hips come crashing into yours, his bulge pressing against your most sensitive spot. Your mouth opens and leaves his ever so slightly, and you don't notice the gun falling out of your hand. With the newly gained advantage, Ghost pushes his tongue into your mouth, starting the long overdue war for dominance. You try to fight it, trying to gain back the small amount of control you crave— but he turns you around with ease, until he has you on your back. He's straddling you with knees on both sides of you, and his hands holding your arms tightly on both sides of your head. You're trapped again.

He doesn't waste time taunting you, he's done playing the game. Hastily, his hands leave their bruising grip on your wrists and find the button of your pants. He moves quickly and removes your pants with a sense of urgency— you don't try to stop him, you leave your hands laying where he's been holding them, and you let him remove your pants, and then your underwear. His finger finds a spot very close to your most sensitive one, but it doesn't hit the spot you need it to. He continues this torture for a while, until he stops completely and looks at you.

“No attempts to stop this? No fighting?” He questions. You never took him for this clueless. You move your hand to his, and grab it, bringing his entire hand to your throbbing center, and forcing him to please you. With a breathy voice, you say.

“Just shut the fuck up and fuck me.”

He doesn't need another word from you, as he spreads your thighs open with force, and pushes himself into you— giving you no time to get used to his size. With no warning, he starts pumping into you relentlessly, keeping up a torturous pace you thought was only possible in porn. When you open your mouth slightly, to complain or to moan, you're not sure. He stops you, wrapping his veiny hand around your throat, in an attempt to show you who's actually in control. It only makes you wetter, you like having him so desperate for control, that he would choke his own soldier— you think it only makes him seem weaker. When he loses himself like this, it's you that gains the upper hand.

“You're never telling anyone about this.” He says, through desperate pants. His hand on your throat tightens ever so slightly.

“Wouldn't want you to get fired, perv.” You shoot him a snarky remark, trying to sound confident— but the whimpers in between every word make you sound more like a pathetic adolescent. His lips latch onto your neck, biting it so intensely, his sharp canine teeth pull a little blood. You love the contrast between pain and pleasure, and feel your orgasm building up. He can feel it too.

“Try to make a smart comment now, I dare you.” He bullies, and you try to say something smart, or just something, anything— but what comes out of your mouth is a deep guttural, animalistic moan, as your orgasm washes over you.

He begins to laugh in a low tone, in between groans, as he pulls out of you, and releases his cum onto your lower stomach. It would feel degrading and dehumanizing, if you weren't just fucked out of your mind. With a weak, breathy voice, you manage to say.

“I hate you.”

He laughs.

“Sure seems like it, Bambi.”

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candy69gurl · 1 year ago

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INSUBORDINATION

PAIRING Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

SYNOPSIS The reader, a young woman of wealth, is married to Toji and consistently treats him as her servant, much to his dismay. Fed up with her behavior, Toji resolves to teach her a lesson.

WARNING non/con, brat taming, spitting, face fucking, hair pulling, spanking, face slapping, fingering, nipple play, missonary, bondage (hands tied only), cock riding, squirting, doggy style, multiple orgasms, degradation, use of vulgar words (dog, bitch, slut, whore, cum slut), humiliation, raw sex (cumming inside mouth, creampie, face cumming), breeding kink, clit slapping & rubbing, man handling

Marrying this seemingly charming and powerful Toji Fushiguro, you believed it imparted a greater benefit upon him than it did upon yourself. His overwhelming infatuation for you was not reciprocated, and instead, you treated him more as a pet than a partner. As a young, rich woman with an air of superiority, you demanded his obedience and submission, constantly reminding him of his place. You were unaware of the brewing storm inside him, waiting to unleash its fury upon you. Little did you know, the love and adoration he had for you were a ticking time bomb about to go off. The way he was treated drove him insane, pushing him to the brink of insanity, and he couldn't take it anymore.

"Hmm, so.. Toji I would like to talk to you, my dear", your eyes never leaving your nails.

Toji glares at you, his eyes smouldering with rage and lust stored inside him. Despite his inner turmoil, he forces a smile and responds, "My lady, I am here." His voice drips with false sincerity, reflecting the pain within him. It's clear that every moment spent serving you gnaws at his soul, fueling his desire to teach you a lesson you will never forget. Yet, he can't let you sense his true intentions - not yet.

He waits patiently, his muscles tensing beneath his clothes, as he anticipates your command. His heart pounds wildly against his chest, and his mind racing with thoughts of revenge and domination. He knows that he's about to snap anytime.

"I need you to stop wasting my money on gambling", your gaze finally shifts from your nails to Toji, who's standing before you with his head bowed.

A chill runs down Toji's spine as he hears your words. Your demand has cut him deeper than any blade could, igniting a firestorm of emotions within him.

How can he possibly stop himself from doing that? It's his sole means of earning money for himself. And it's not like he constantly relies on your finances for that. But the way you phrased your money, it really struck a nerve and left him feeling utterly humiliated. He understood that you were implying he should beg you for money, but that's something he would never do.

He tries to maintain his composure, swallowing the bitter taste that filled his mouth. With a stiff nod, he replies, "As you wish, my lady. I shall cease all gambling activities and dedicate myself entirely to your needs. But I would like you to stop ordering me around"

"Excuse me? who do you think you are?", one of your eyebrows raised, utterly confused by his sudden back-talk.

Toji's eyes flash with defiance, and his voice take on a dangerous edge, "I am your husband, a man scorned and abandoned. I have given you everything I have, my love, my heart, my trust. Yet, I receive nothing in return. I am sick of being treated like a mere toy. My passion for you burns like a thousand suns, and it is time you recognized my worth!" His face contorts with rage and hurt, his entire body trembling with suppressed power. "Do not mistake my patience for weakness, for I am far from it. One day, you will learn the consequences of disregarding those who truly care for you."

Your countenance remain devoid of emotion as he uttered those words. Instead, you advance towards him, drawing nearer... and nearer... until you stand face-to-face. Despite his height advantage, you are aware of the superiority you hold.

In an instant, your hand delivers a sharp slap to his face, causing his head to jerk to the right. "How dare you talk to me like that?"

Your slap lands across Toji's cheek with a loud smack, jolting him back to reality. His eyes widen, shock etching lines onto his face. For a brief moment, he stand frozen, the sting of your hand burning a trail across his pale skin. Then, without warning, his expression twists into one of pure fury. In a single, fluid motion, he grabs your wrist and pins you on the ground.

"GET OFF ME YOU SICKO", you scream.

Toji snarls, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity. "No, little miss high-and-mighty, I decide when this ends. You've played your games, and now it's time to pay the price," he growls, his grip on your wrist tightening. He leans closer, his hot breath washing over your face as he whispers, "You thought I was weak and submissive, but you sorely underestimated me. I am a man consumed by desire and rage, and I will make you pay for your cruelty."

His other hand moves to fondle with your clothed breasts, "Coming to think of it.. I never touched.. Maybe tonight is the time .. I finally discover your secrets."

"Don't even think of it.. Move your filthy hands off me!!" your legs pushing his chest away from your body.

Toji's eyes narrow, his lips curling into a predatory smile. "Oh, I think I've already discovered your secrets, my dear. You're just as desperate for my touch as I am for yours. You can scream all you want, but no one will come to save you. You're mine, and I will have my way with you."

His grip on your wrist intensifies and he begins to move his hand lower, towards your thigh. "You've pushed me too far, and now it's time for you to learn a lesson you'll never forget. I'll make you beg for my touch, and when I'm done, you'll be mine completely."

"I should have kept a body guard..", your eyes get teary as you start feeling vulnerable. The thing that you hated the most.

Toji's eyes flicker with a hint of victory at your admission. "Yes, perhaps you should have," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "But it's too late now. There's no one coming to save you."

His fingers trail along the edge of your clothing, teasingly close to bare skin. "I plan to make it as painful and pleasurable as possible. You'll come to cherish these moments, begging for more, even as you curse my name."

His eyes gleam with malicious intent as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Every benefit you receive carries a price; for the service I've rendered you over the years, my dear wife, I require my due compensation. I'm not interested in payments via cheque, cash, or phone apps. I seek recompense through your body."

"I will never.. ever.. submit to you .. Toji Fushiguro..", you land kick on his side, attempting to run away from his grasp, yet he remains unaffected. He does grunt as your kick connected with his side, but he doesn't release you. Instead, he smirks, his gaze heated. "You.. Keep struggling, but you're only making this worse for yourself. Give in to me, let me show you the pleasure you've denied yourself for so long."

Slowly, he slides his hand underneath your clothing, his fingertips brushing against your skin unclasping your bra, taking it off you easily. You squirm beneath him, but his grip remains firm, unwavering.

"D-dont do it ..", you try squirming again.

Toji's lips twitch into a cruel grin. "Ah, but I must. After all, I promised to teach you a lesson, and I always keep my promises." His fingers continues their relentless exploration, caressing your nipple gently before pinching it firmly.

"Feel it, wife. Feel the pleasure I can give you, even as I punish you. Let your body betray your reluctance, let it crave what you claim to despise." He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "And remember, this is all ya fault. You made me this way."

You buck beneath him, trying to escape his grasp, but his hold on you unyielding. He pushes your top up, yanking it off you, exposing your breasts.

"S-stop ..", your hands escapes his grip swiftly, trying to hide your bare chest from his monstrous gaze.

Toji's eyes roams over your exposed body hungrily, drinking in the sight of your exposedness for the first time. "Such beauty, wasted on someone like you..."

He reaches out, his finger trailing down your sternum, then moving to your neck, causing goosebumps to rise. Your hands pushing his face, gripping his hair, trying to yank him off you.. But everything fails. And you know if you try hitting him, it'll enrage him further. Your hits are nothing in comparison to the hits requried to knock this giant man down.

Toji chuckles darkly, his grip on you unbreakable. "You cannot escape me, my dear. Not tonight." His fingers dance lightly along your collarbone, tracing patterns that sent chills down your spine. "You wanted control, you craved dominance, and now you shall experience both in equal measure."

As his fingers reaches your breast, he gently slapped your hands and, cupped your breasts, squeezing slightly before letting go. His eyes sparkling with mischief as he watches you writhe under his touch. "Soon, you'll beg for more."

Refusing to yield, you remain steadfast in your refusal to submit to him. You attempt to land kicks once again, this time more haphazardly and with greater force.

Toji catches one of your legs easily, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and lust. "Keep struggling, wife. Make it harder on yourself." He responds, his voice thick with emotion. His gaze lingers on your body, taking note of every twitch and shiver.

With a swift movement, he rolls you onto your stomach, restraining your arms behind your back, squeezing your face on the ground. His veins bulged on his hands as he gripped your hair tightly, pressing your cheeks against the cold floor with force.

Toji smirked, enjoying the fight in you. He pressed his body against yours, his erection evident through his clothes. "What happened to the lioness?" he mocked. "Got defeated by a mere dog?"

He reaches for your hefty priced skirt, ripping it down, revealing your bare ass. His hand hovers over it for a moment before bringing it down, delivering a sharp slap. You cry out in surprise and pain, arching your back.

"Fuck you that dress's worth is more than yours", Toji's eyes fall on your reddened teary-face. He gazes for a while before laughing cruelly, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

"Is that all you can muster, a reprimand for my actions? I thought you'd beg for mercy by now." His hand falls again, this time harder, the sting of the slap searing through your body.

"You are tough I must say" He speaks, his voice dark and heavy with emotion. His eyes flash with mischief as he prepared for his next move.

"L-let me go now", your tone somehow shifts to a plea.

He looks down at your red, angry cheeks and puffy lips, his gaze shifting to your ass, the imprints of his five fingers are distinctly visible on your skin. "Shall I?"

"YOU WILL LET ME GO BASTARD i WILL KILL YOU," you yell at him, hating the way he was treating you, as if he owns you.

Toji pulls you up by your hair, leaning closer to your face, "Looks like you haven't learned your lesson yet. Need to shut that big mouth,"

You forcefully expel saliva from your mouth, deliberately directing it towards his face, "Never."

Toji's face flashes with a grin as he wipes off your spit from his face and licks his finger, his grip on your hair tightening. "Nasty bitch!" he snarls. His free hand frees his erection and you gasp on seeing how big he is. Big enough to nearly kill you.

"W-what the fuck do you think you are doing", you swallowed in anticipation.

Without responding, he pulls your mouth towards his erection, rubbing the tip on your swollen lips.

Your hands reach up to squeeze his shaft, intending to hurt him. Toji winces, his eyes flashing with pain and anger. "You really don't want to die, do you?" His voice shaking with fury as he grasps your wrists, locking them on either side of his legs, his precum leaking shaft rubbing against your cheek. "This is your punishment, and you're going to take it like a good girl."

Despite your resistance, he thrusts his erection into your mouth, forcing you to take him off. You could barely take in his entire length as drool cascades down your chin and your neck swells with every push. You struggle but he remains firm, so you use your teeth, nibbling on his dick.

Toji hisses in pain and anger, releasing you. "You fucking cunt! I should've known better." He slaps you, causing you to cry out in agony. "That's for biting me!" He grabs your hair again, pulling your head toward his dick and begins to thrust roughly.

"Hnghh-", tears stream down your cheeks, smudging your flawless makeup.

Toji's eyes squint seeing you cry, his lips curling up trying to hide his laugher. "Crying? That's cute. You're crying while servicing me!" His grasp on your head tightens as he keeps fucking your throat relentlessly. "Didn't think you could handle it huh? Too bad, because this is just beginning!"

Your eyes twitching in anger, you keep making noises of struggles.

Toji's thrusts increasing in speed. "Shut up, you ungrateful whore! This is what you deserve!" He slamms into you harder, ignoring your protests.

Why is he acting like that all of a sudden? You never thought the man you married is going to treat you like this. But yes karma, you have hurt him, you made him like this. HE IS RIGHT, you deserve this.

His grip tightened on your hair, his thrusts growing more violent until you screamed, tears streaming down your face. Finally, he cums, flooding your mouth with his seed. "Swallow it. I want to see your Adam's apple moving."

You involuntary swallow his seed. Toji stares at you, his breathing ragged, his eyes fixated on the sight of you swallowing his semen. "Good dog," he sneers, wiping his shaft clean.

You wipe your mouth weakly, "I will never forgive you. You are gonna face the consequences."

Toji chuckles coldly, releasing you. "Oh, the night just started.." He picks you up walking towards your bedroom.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT.. WE ARE DONE.. I AM GOING TO FUCKING DIVORCE YOU", you throw punches on his spine, your nails scratcing his clothed back.

Ignoring your threats, Toji places you on bed, tying your hands with his XXL tshirt to the headboard. His eyes glinting with excitement. "We're far from done, darling. Now, spread your legs, or shall I do it for you?"

"You are not allowed to touch me.. TOJI FUSHIGURO!"

Toji grins wickedly," Oh yeah?", with a swift movement he pulls your panties off you. You legs hiding your core from his gaze. His eyes locked on your resistant form. " He reaches down, spreading your legs apart with force. Your protest is soon silenced by a hard slap accross your clit.

"Now Now.. Look at that," he gathers your wetness with his finger and licks it, "Taste of a bitch in heat."

You bite your lower lip from embarassment. Toji's eyes darkens with lust, his fingers running through your damp entrance, teasing your hole. "You're so wet, yet you are protesting? Ah, I love it." He smirks before inserting his finger inside you, feeling you tense. His eyes searching for your reaction.

"You are lying.. It's not possible-", you still keep on protesting.

Toji pulls his finger, "Hmm?" He raises his eyebrow at you, "Am I? Prove me wrong!" He inserts another finger, stretching you wide. You gasp, arching your back. "Mmm, see for yourself", he then pulls his fingers out. He holds his fingers near your face, covered in your essence, "See?", forcing them into your mouth making you taste yourself.

Your eyes widening, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Toji's eyes gleam triumphantly, his fingers finding their way back inside you. "Pretend all you want, but your body knows the truth." His thumb rubbed your clit, expecting a moan from you. "You want to feel my cock inside you, and let us both know the truth."

"D-do what you want.. but I will not moan."

Toji's grin never wavered as he pulled out his finger. "Stubborn till the end, aren't we?"

He adjusts his position above you, his erection poised to enter you. "Very well, but you won't be able to help yourself soon enough." Before you can react, he thrusts into you roughly, invading your core. He groans at the tightness, his pace increasing.

Your hands tugging on the restraint, eyes watering again from the invasion. He leans in, whispering in your ear, "Let me hear it, your pleasure."

"F-fuck fuck.. pull it out already.. Toji", you nearly beg him.

Toji does not pull out instead he leans back, his dick sliding inside you further hitting your womb as tears spill out of your eyes from the stretching.

"Ohh.. What a sight to behold! The mistress is crying.. Is that how you request your controller?", he slows down a little.

"Please.. Toji... pull it out already", you feel your insides getting ripped everytime he pushes himself in you.

Toji laughs darkly, "Call me master Toji"

"Bastard", you reply.

He starts thrusting, roughly and harshly. "You want to die?"

"Pls master toji .. It's tearing me," your voice shaking with pain and confused pleasure.

His thrusts slows down again, his eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. "That's right. Who owns you?"

"Y-you..", you reply, your self respect crumbled against Toji's feet.

He smiles cruelly, "Mmm... What's that? I wanted to pull out, but your walls are not allowing me to." with that he keeps slamming into you. This time gentlier than before. Your face twisting in anger and tears.

"No, no..." he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly. "It's alright. Embrace your submissive nature. You'll thank me later." His thrusting intensifies, his pace accelerating. You whimper, unable to control your pleasure. "It feels good hah?"

"N-no it does not," you lie. Toji's eyes glint at your lie. 'We will see about that" as he speeds up his thrusts, pulling your nipple causing you to cry even louder.

Suddenly moan escapes from your mouth, biting your lips you hide your shift your head right avoiding eye contact with him.

"There it is!" he whispers, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Didn't you just say, you won't moannn?" his mocking evident. "That's it, let go! Enjoy it!" He rams into you, owning you fully.

Your eyes locking on his again. "You look so beautiful, when you are this vulnerable and submissive." His words, punctuated by his thrusts, your moans filling the air. "So obedient..."

Your walls tighten, your climax reaching soon. Toji's thrusts slow down as he realizes your nearness. "Not yet..." He pulls his dick out, causing you to cry out.

"I decide when you cum. Remember that." He reaches down, playing with your clit. "Beg for it."

You look at him, your mind still not wanting to give in.

"Beg for it, or I will keep doing this the whole night" He repeats, his voice firm.

He strokes his cock, your eyes widened, realizing the threat. "Please Toji, let me cum.." Your voice trembled, your body tensing.

"Please what?", he smirks biting his lips.

"P-Please master..", you pout after saying the words.

Toji smirks, placing the tip back to your entrance. "Complete the sentence," he rubs your wet, puffy clit with his tip.

"P-Please master toji let me cum", your respect for yourself almost vanished as your eyes begged for him.

"Louder" He pushes his tip inside you, painfully slow.

"PLEASE MASTER TOJI LET ME CUM.. PLEASE .. I BEG OF YOU"

Toji lets out a satisfied growl, thrusting deep. "That's more like it, my good slave." He pounds you mercilessly, your pleas for release filling the air. "Cum. For me."

Your body tenses, toes curl as you orgasm hard, walls spasming rapidly against his cock. Toji watches your orgasm unfurl, his dick pulsating inside you. "Mmm, nice." He thrusts faster, his climax approaching. "Fuck, yes. So tight.. I never imagined you felt this good." He grunts, his breath hitched, his release imminent. "Gonna fill you up. Bet you won't remain selfish anymore once you have your own baby."

Only moans come out of you as he thrusts into your oversensitive pussy. Toji finishes his thrusts, spilling himself inside you, pulling out just to see his seed drooling out of your clamping walls. "Shit.. Look at that, so dirty", he pushes his dick inside you again, watching your body shuddering.

You mutter a low appologise as your breathing starts becoming stable once again. "Oh so now ya guilty?" Toji laughs, his dick twitching inside you still, he's getting hard once again. He pulls his dick out and drags you onto his lap.

He caresses your cheek, "Do you think I can ever forgive you baby? with all these years of disrespect that you flung at me?" his other hand pats your ass. "I dont want to hear your apologies. I will divorce you just like that."

You feel as though everything is falling apart around you. It's the last thing you expected to hear from him. You know you love him, but you chose to ignore your feelings up until this point. "Pls master.. d-dont divorce me .. I love you", you lean towards him, kissing his cheek.

Toji's eyes flickered for a moment, as you kiss his cheek. "Wow.. Just an orgasm out of you, put you in your place? Perhaps.. There's only one way to change my mind", he licks his tongue wanting to push your buttons. You look at him expectantly.

Toji's eyes sparked with devious delight "Show me how much you love me, my slave".

Sighing, you take his erect cock and insert it inside of you. You begin to flex and extend your hips along his girth.

Toji watches as you ride him, his eyes never leaving you, his eyes twinkling. "Mmm, nothing sexier than a woman in need," He growls, grabbing your hips and pushing you into his hips. "Ride it harder!" He groans, moving along with your rhythm. You nod and increase your pace, bouncing harder, his veins popping on his forehead.

"Impressive, but more!" His hands move to your neck, pulling you closer. "Yes.. Open your mouth whore" He grips your throat gently, tightening his hold.

You open your mouth, and Toji spits in it, "Swallow it". Without any delay you swallow it.

Toji laughs, "How the tables turn, huh?"

You lean to kiss him, but he grabs your neck not allowing you to get closer to him. "I don't want to kiss your nasty mouth bitch"

"P-please master toji.. kiss me", you beg him, hands reaching to caress his hand on your neck.

"Hmm?" he whispers, "Why would I do that?" He tightens his grip, making it harder for you to breathe. You gasp, your eyes locking with his.

"I am sorry," you cry and pout, hips slamming against his pubis while riding him.

"Apologizing?" He loosens his grip, allowing you to breathe easier. "Now that's better." He watches you, how you are engulfing his cock with each movement.

"Still want my kiss?" He taunts, as he release his grip on your neck.

"Yes.. please.. Kiss me"

Toji captures your lips, his tongue invading your mouth. You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck. He groans, the taste of your submission sweet. "Mmm, such a good slave." He pulls away, "Appology accepted". His mouth leans in to latch onto one of your breasts, tongue circling your nipples and his cheeks hollowing.

Unable to control yourself you squirt all over him. He grunts at your sudden tightness. "What the fuck- so tight ah.." He removes his dick from you, putting you on your knees and hands. "Pissing like a dog? Want me to piss on you too?"

"S-sorry master, I was unable to control myself", your eyes rolled from the experience, collapsing on the bed.

Toji spanks your ass, bringing you to your knees. He lines up his dick to your entrance, holding you steady. "Ya looking like a used slut." His dick slides in your entrance, stretching you again. You whine and whimper, thighs shaking from the ecounters before.

"So sensitive..", Toji scoffs.

"Please .. I am near .. fuck me harder", your voice pleading, eyes rolled, drools driping down your chin.

Toji's thrusts speed up, taking you from behind. "Such an Insatiable cum slut " He groans, his voice hoarse. "Tell me how much you want my cum inside you."

"Fill me up pls.... I am master Toji's cumdump"

Toji roars, slamming into you. "Mmm, yes. My cum dump bitch." He releases inside you, feeling you cum and contract around his dick. He pulls out, watching his seed dripping out of you. His eyes lingered over your pussy, "Maybe you deserve a reward after all."

Your whole body convulses. Toji pulls himself out, "Do you want the reward?"

"Please.. reward me master .. I am your good slave," you falter.

Toji smiles, "Very well, my pet. You're a good slave then" He licks your thighs "Mmm, I love you. But if you dare to disappoint me again..." His teeth nibbling on your clit, making you moan loudly. "You know where you stand." He coos and blows on your wetness, licking you clean. Your body trembles, his tongue exploring your folds.

Toji moans, licking your and his cum.. He suckles your clit, his tongue dancing around. A huge cum drop falls on his tongue which he thrusts inside you again.

"Such a good slave, you'll give me a healthy pup" He hums, kissing your inner thighs. Your breath hitches, your orgasm nearing.

Unable to make out anything, you keep taking the pleasure he gives you.

Toji chuckles, his pace unrelenting. "Make me feel needed, slut" He tongue flicks your clit, you shaking. "Cum for me girl" He pinches your clit, your juice flowing freely. "Ahh, so fucking delicious..."

"Gonna cum .. Love you Toji .. a-ah", you blabber. "Yes, my whore. Go ahead" He growls, licking your juice dripping on his lips. Your thighs wrap around him, cumming again. He licks your cum from his tongue, your legs trembling.

"Good girl". He kisses your neck then pulling you closer to his dick.

"Clean your mess from it" He whispers.

Toji breathes heavily, your mouth enveloping his half-hardened dick. It gets hard again, "Mmm, yes, clean it nicely" He cups your head, his shaft coats in your saliva. "Like that, slut" His hand affectionately messes your hair, your moaning muffled. "So good... God.. I should have done this a lot earlier." He watched you swallow his dickhead, your saliva running down your chin. He laughs, his breaths hitched.

You suck on his balls while he strokes his length, "You know how to make a man happy" he whispers. He pulls you by your hair rubbing his dick on your cheeks.

He leans back, hips jerking. "Mmm, shoot!", his cum splattering across your face, your tongue sticking out, trying to catch some cum drops. He smiles, wiping your face.

"Mmm, so obedient, my little cum dump" He whispers, kissing your lips. "You did great today and if you dare to mistreat me again.."

"I will put you in your place.. Like how I did today."

DIVIDERS FROM @/cafekitsune

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fear-is-truth · 8 months ago

Note

how do you think patrick will react when you try to break things off with him?

breaking up with patrick bateman .ᐟ.ᐟ

tw ; mentions of drug use, homicide

a/n: apologies for the word salad.. my brain is kinda fried from my classes. also he’s such a pretty crier

𝜗ϱ ┆ denial & gaslighting

his immediate reaction would likely be disbelief. the idea of someone rejecting him, particularly someone he views as an extension of his life, would be incomprehensible to him. this disbelief would manifest as condescension and dismissal, accompanied by gaslighting.

“you’re leaving me?” he’d say with a strained smile, eyes narrowing to slits. “that’s ridiculous. you don’t mean that.”

patrick wouldn’t process the emotional weight of your decision, instead assuming that you’re acting irrationally or that something external has influenced you. his need to maintain control would drive him to undermine your perspective, likely accusing you of being under the influence of drugs.

“have you been doing too much cocaine? or maybe those diet pills? you’re not thinking clearly, darling.”

this gaslighting would be less about convincing you and more about reinforcing his own denial. patrick lives in a world where his perception is reality, and your decision to leave disrupts that. denial is his first line of defense.

𝜗ϱ ┆ manipulation & desperation

as the conversation continues, patrick would pivot to emotional manipulation. while he lacks true empathy, he is an expert at imitating emotional responses to “fit in”. he’d beg you to reconsider, framing his argument that appeals to your sense of loyalty or guilt.

“think about everything i’ve done for you. everything we’ve had together. you can’t just walk away.”

if manipulation doesn’t work, his desperation would become more overt. while patrick is typically composed, cracks in his facade could begin to show. you might see a flash of raw panic in his eyes.

“you don’t know what you’re doing. you’re making a mistake.”

𝜗ϱ ┆ begging

patrick would eventually resort to begging, and this is where the irony comes in—remember the time he dumped evelyn with an air of theatrical superiority, telling her that she’s “simply not terribly important” to him.

“you can’t do this to me. please, don’t go. we can work this out—whatever this is, we can fix it. i’ll change.”

of course, he is incapable of real change, and his promises would ring hollow. but the desperation in his voice would feel oddly genuine.

𝜗ϱ ┆“i need to return some videotapes.”

when it becomes clear that he can’t sway you, patrick would retreat, unwilling to let you witness the full extent of his unraveling. maintaining appearances is critical, even in moments of personal crisis. with a curt, almost robotic tone, he’d excuse himself with his signature non sequitur:

“i need to return some videotapes.”

this statement, bizarre and out of place, serves two purposes. first, it allows him to escape the confrontation without completely breaking down in front of you. second, it reaffirms his facade of control.

𝜗ϱ ┆ private despair

once alone, patrick would no longer be able to hold himself together. the breakup would be a complete fracturing of his identity. while he outwardly projects confidence, his inner world is fragile and deeply insecure. your rejection would strip away the validation he relies on to maintain his ego. he’d cry—silent, bitter tears of frustration and humiliation.

𝜗ϱ ┆ homicide as a coping mechanism

but patrick is incapable of processing emotions in a healthy way, so the tears wouldn’t lead to introspection or change. instead, they’d fuel a darker spiral—he’d channel his feelings of loss into compulsive, destructive behaviour. violence is often an outlet for him, and your departure could serve as a catalyst for a spree of homicidal acts. (e.g killing homeless people)

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman fanfic #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o #slasher fanfic #slasher fanfiction #christian bale x reader

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sanakiras · 3 months ago

Text

FRIENDLY COMPETITION

PAIRING — hong joshua x reader (+ yoon jeonghan x reader)

WORD COUNT — 5.1k

SYNOPSIS — nothing quite compares to the bitterness left by a best friend’s betrayal. joshua knows he should probably just let it go; if only he didn’t hold a grudge like it’s a hand.

TAGS — infidelity (by like. everyone in this fic. several times. it’s crazy), some mlm action, explicit sexual content, this wasn’t supposed to be a love triangle fic but i rewatched challengers recently so it took a turn, all three main characters are nasty, intentionally vague fic bc it was originally meant to be longer, i’m ngl it’s so messy sorry 😭

♪ — saint avangeline - lilith / charli xcx - good ones / partynextdoor - make it to the morning

THEY SAY BEING THE BIGGER PERSON IS A SIGN OF GOOD CHARACTER.

but joshua has never really given a damn about being a good person.

with a glass of champagne in hand, he glances across the room, the expression on his face completely blank. the fabric of the suit fits his body like a glove, perfectly tailored to his measurements.

he doesn’t really fit in with this crowd. not that he’d want to.

jeonghan did always have a knack for surrounding himself with the most pretentious of people, but then again, he has always carried himself with a certain sense of... superiority.

his eyes scan the room in hopes to find a certain person. trying to look for someone you’ve never met before is more challenging than he thought it would be.

“i don’t think we’ve met.” he hears behind him, and he turns around, only to be met with one of the most beautiful smiles he’s ever seen.

joshua’s greeting is said near absentmindedly, as he’s clearly taking in the sight of you.

sure, he’s seen the pictures of you online after rigorously searching up everything he could find about you. he recognizes you easily, though he finds the pictures don’t do you justice.

you’re the daughter of a renowned, successful businessman, though from what he’s gathered, you’re also considerably more private than most people in your circle, so it was hard to find anything about you other than basic things like your birthday and education.

but he can work with what he has.

“yeah, this isn't my usual scene.”

“what brings you to the scene here, then?”

joshua’s eyes are sweet, completely hiding the self-serving revenge plan he’s actually here for. “i was invited by a business partner of mine.”

surprisingly enough, you don’t often meet handsome and intriguing strangers at events like these. but joshua here is a refreshing, new face in the midst of everyone you already know and always have to talk to.

“something tells me you don’t really enjoy being here.”

“am i that obvious?”

“a little.”

not really. you’ve just had your eyes on him since he walked in.

“can i say something brutally honest?” he asks, and when you nod, he slightly leans closer to your face, lowering his voice. “you don’t really seem to be enjoying yourself either.”

a scoff escapes your mouth while you still have a glass of champagne in hand. “what makes you think so?”

joshua shrugs casually. “gut feeling, i guess. but i’m right, aren’t i?”

when you don’t refute his words, the corner of his lips curls up for a split second, his cockiness briefly slipping underneath his facade. yeah, he thinks to himself, i know you’re unhappy with that shitty husband of yours. it’s been in the gossip magazines several times at this point.

there’s something captivating about him. clothed in a clearly expensive two-piece suit, jet-black hair framing his soft features. he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, and you catch the piercings in his ear — it leaves you wondering who the hell this is.

“normally, this is my crowd, but unfortunately there’s not much place for honesty here. so when i’m having a shit day, i still have to put up a smile and act like i’m so interested in whatever business everyone’s doing these days.”

“well, if you need to pour your heart out to a stranger, go on ahead. i won’t judge, promise.”

his smile is infectious. you hope the heat isn’t visible on your cheeks. after hesitating for a moment, you open your mouth, about to tell him why your week has been so utterly bad when you feel a presence behind you, the familiar hand sliding around your waist.

“joshuji — it’s been a while.”

that fucking nickname. it used to warm his chest, now it just fills it with a sharp pain.

joshua’s mood instantly sours, and he has to force himself to hide the disdain on his face.

his heart sinks familiarly at the sight of him. the memories with him flash through his mind — the complicated history that had them go from best friends to strangers.

“jeonghan,” he returns the greeting rather stand-offish, “it sure has.”

“i see you’ve met my wife.” jeonghan’s smile turns into something more genuine once it’s directed at you.

“you two have history?” you ask, feeling a bit left out now that you’ve discovered the two of them know eachother.

before joshua can answer, jeonghan does so for him. “from high school, yeah. we were classmates.”

classmates. that’s a hell of a way to put it.

jeonghan catches the dark glare joshua sends his way, but ignores it entirely. your husband squeezes your waist tighter than usual, more possessively — it sparks curiosity in you.

after exchanging some tense lines of small talk, jeonghan gives some bullshit excuse to get you to go home with him, and you agree, though not without subtly giving joshua your card; with your number on it.

he triumphantly grins to himself when watching the two of you leave.

as much as jeonghan might want to keep you away from him, you certainly don’t have the same plan — just as he’d hoped.

when joshua makes the bold move of inviting you out for drinks a few days later, you shamelessly agree to it. of course there’s nothing wrong with getting to know someone in a friendly manner, but you’re not quite sure if it’s friendship that you want from him.

just as the first time you met, he’s charming. he easily makes conversation, and you enjoy his company just as much as the glass of red wine sitting on the table before you. you drink, talk and laugh together, and the hours pass by faster than they should.

“is there no girl waiting for you at your house at this hour?”

with a glass in hand, he shakes his head. “no, there’s not. i’ve been single for a while now. though you can’t say the same.”

the mention of your husband instantly affects your body language. “no, i cannot.”

“i don’t mean to pry, so if you don’t wanna talk about it, just say the word — but you seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind. which you didn’t get to tell me about last time.”

a huff escapes you. joshua is a welcome distraction, and for once in your life, you’re interested in someone else’s opinion on your personal life.

so you tap your nail against your thigh, admitting why your life has been feeling irritatingly hectic lately. “i keep finding these tabloids writing about me and jeonghan, our relationship and all — it annoys me. do you know how much work goes into suing those assholes?”

“not really, but i can imagine. what’re they saying about you?”

“that our marriage seems strained at certain moments, or that we’re never really seen together outside of events… the usual.”

“i’m glad to be out of that kind of spotlight.”

“yeah, well, i’m not just in it — i’m married to someone who’s also in it. god, if i could get a fucking break and be single again, i would.”

“so i take it the not-so-happy-marriage rumors they’re all writing about are true, then?”

“kind of. but it’s not what you think.”

“i’m all ears.”

“well, for starters, i’ve never been in love with him.”

“you’re—you’re not?”

“i’m not. at least i don’t think so. i’ve grown to love him, definitely, but… i just don’t know if i’m in love with him.”

“but why would you marry him, if you felt like that?”

“it was initially just a business thing, our parents pretty much paired us together. but he’s charming, intelligent, not bad on the eyes at all. even though he’s in love with me, he still holds me at a distance. i doubt i’ll be able to fall in love with him if he doesn’t let me in.”

joshua has to surpress a knowing grin. jeonghan’s always been like that, even with him — the type of guy you could pour your heart out to, never getting the same in return.

“and there’s no way to get out of it?”

“legally, i could get a lawyer and file for divorce, but it’s still a business deal at the end of the day. it’d do damage to all our reputations, which i don’t want to be the cause of, and despite everything, jeonghan still treats me well. i guess i should’ve known i would have to live this way when i agreed to sign the contract.”

jeonghan treats you well.

of course he does.

before orchestrating his plan, it was difficult to think of a way of hurting jeonghan deeply, the same way the latter did to him years ago. but joshua came across a video of you giving an interview to some reporters after a ceremony, and when he caught how jeonghan looked at you, he knew exactly what to do.

jeonghan is utterly and completely in love with you. it shows in every photo taken of you two together, even the articles in the papers where he talks about you. there’s no one he holds in higher esteem than his wife.

so joshua figured you had to become the key to his bitter, borderline childish plan of revenge.

now that you’re telling him you don’t even reciprocate your husband’s love, it might be a whole lot easier than expected to carry it out.

“so you just have to remain stuck in your marriage?”

“pretty much.”

he bites his lip, looking at you a certain way, and it makes you raise a brow at him.

“what is it?”

“no, i just thought of something, but i shouldn’t ask.”

“i’ll be the judge of that. c’mon, say it.”

joshua presses his lips together, and you don’t miss that glint in his eyes. with another sip of alcohol, he asks you what he’s genuinely curious of. “i just wondered if you two ever…”

“what?”

“… you know.”

“wow, you’re cheeky.”

“i’m just asking.”

“mhm.” you hum playfully, at which he chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “sometimes, we do.”

he’s thankful for the darkness of the restaurant and the table covering his crotch. the image of jeonghan and you in bed together, all naked and intertwined and warm, it gets a rise out of him. he subtly shifts in his seat.

“look, i’m not asking this because i have some ulterior motive or something, but...” a funny choice of words, “if it’s business, you’re free to see others, right?”

“we’ve never discussed it.”

“what would your gut tell you?”

“my gut is wondering why you care so much, joshua.”

“because—” he lets his teeth sink into his lower lip, “because if you are, i’d like to let you know i’m more than willing to… give you whatever you need.”

“and if i’m not free to see others?”

dangerous territory to be in, you both find.

his response comes out low and breathlessly. “then i’d still be here for you.”

you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek. in any real relationship, you’d never condone cheating. jeonghan is your husband in name only, and while you’ve both been loyal to each other so far, he’s getting more out of your marriage than you are.

and joshua, who simply waltzed into your life at the moment you needed it the most, is offering to give you something you’ve been craving.

agreeing to this dimly lit cocktail date with a man who gazes at you like that — you should’ve known it meant drafting up a sin that’s been lurking underneath the surface.

it takes exactly fifteen minutes for you to be pushed into the dark alleyway between the restaurant and the five-star hotel next to it. his hands are bigger than jeonghan’s, something you already concluded when he put his hand on your lower back while walking out of the entrance.

his lips are on your jaw, trailing down your neck, his hands hungrily grabbing onto your thighs.

he’s itching for some kind of relief, pupils dilated from lust, your lipstick smeared around his mouth. “let me touch you.”

you nod, breathing into his mouth, and he reaches down, easily pushing your panties to the side with that skirt you’ve got on. hot arousal sits between your legs, and when he feels it, he’s close to crying out from how wet you are.

his lengthy fingers make their way inside you easily, your reaction to the intrusion making him smirk.

“next time your husband does this,” he groans at the feeling of his fingers getting coated in your wetness, “i want you to think of me. of this moment.”

even through your lustful haze, you pick up on the snide undertone of his comment, and it only makes you chuckle. “that depends.”

“on what?”

“on how hard you make me come.”

now it’s his turn to laugh. oh, he’ll give it to you, all right. so much for holding back because you’re in public.

joshua proves himself more than worthy when he has you seeing stars not much later, your knees almost giving out on you. he keeps you standing upright, and once you’ve regained a clear sight, you find him licking his fingers, his body still pressed up against yours.

“if you want me to fuck you here, say the word and i will. though it might be smarter to go back to my apartment.” he whispers, simultaneously pushing his front against you. he’s rock-hard, aching to be inside you, willing to give you whatever you ask of him.

a flash of guilt spreads through you when you realize you could still call it a night and go home. you’ll tell jeonghan that you let his former classmate finger-fuck you in a dark alley and he’d probably let it be, too — but you’re greedy.

and you let it consume you.

his apartment is down the street. you let him fuck you with long and deep strokes, and it has your eyes rolling back, only moans, whimpers and his name tumbling from your lips.

his muscles are stronger, more visible than jeonghan’s. you see them in every thrust of his hips, every grab at your breasts, every move he makes. his big eyes are hypnotizing.

so hypnotizing that you don’t know he’s recording all of this.

only audio — it’ll be more than enough to prove to jeonghan that you’ve been in his bed, if necessary.

once you’ve had eachother for several rounds, you slip into a different conversation. your hopes and dreams in life, how you feel you’re not living the life you want, and all the struggles that come with it.

you talk about music, what kind of home you grew up in, and all kinds of experiences that make you both laugh. you enjoy his company, and he enjoys yours.

it’s his turn to feel guilty now. this sweet girl, who he happens to be wildly attracted to, is so lovely — he doesn’t want this to be the last time he talks to you.

so, going against his own plan, he meets you again, a few days later. and it happens again, and again, and again; he has to face the truth.

he’s falling for you.

his heart skips a beat when he sees you, gazes at you. how your hair gleams when the sun shines upon it, the sound of your laughter, those sarcastic little comments that make him crack up every time.

he doesn’t want to lose you. he’s aware that you’re falling in love with him too, and he genuinely wants to be with you, to have you be his completely.

but at the same time, he cannot let go of the past. he can’t not see his revenge through.

joshua faces a choice he never thought he’d have to make — you, or jeonghan.

two months later, when you get home late again, your husband finally speaks his mind. he does his best to sound somewhat casual, but fails.

“you’ve been awfully late these past weeks. hard time at work?”

in the living room, you press your nails against the inside of your palm. truthfully, you’d planned to tell him of your affair when you got home that night. rip the band-aid off while the wound is still fresh.

but he was in a good mood, and all you could think about was how much he cares about you. how much he loves you.

because for whatever reason, he does.

so you chose to keep quiet, vowing to tell him the next day. but when you woke up beside him in your shared bed, while he was sleeping soundly, you looked at his face and felt so terrible that you just couldn’t do it.

you planned to go to joshua’s and tell him you couldn’t do anything together until you’d told jeonghan.

yet you somehow landed on top of him within several minutes.

about a week later, you wanted to test out the waters. see if jeonghan would be open to you going out with others.

but the moment you asked, it’s like you could see his heart breaking. perhaps you didn’t quite grasp how much he was in love with you until that moment, and when he said he’d promise to try and be more open with you, to give you an opportunity to understand him better, you couldn’t bear the idea of hurting him even more.

the two contradicting voices in your head keep justifying both sides of your situation, of having something with both of the men currently in your life.

now, it seems, you’ve finally mustered up enough courage to be honest with him.

“no. it’s not work.” you admit, nearly hurting your jaw from how much you’re clenching your teeth. your heart pounds in your throat. “i haven’t been honest with you about what i’ve been doing—”

“you’re seeing someone.” he interrupts, his hands folded together when he sits with his legs spread apart in the chair. “i figured already.”

you wait a moment before responding, giving an honest apology without excusing your behavior. “yeah, i am. and i’m sorry for not telling you.”

jeonghan nods, and he’s surprisingly calm, more sadness than anger to be found in his body language, as if he’s miserable only about the fact that he didn’t get you to fall for him before some other guy came along.

“just tell me one thing,” he says sternly, managing to come across as gentle at the same time, “are you fucking him?”

with a quiet nod, you lower your head.

he moves on to the question that might be the most heartbreaking to him. “who is it?”

the look in his eyes is so utterly depressing. he wants—no, needs to know who it is that captured your heart, solely so he can compare himself to him. surely this other man must have something he doesn’t.

“joshua hong.”

it’s so silent after you say his name that you could hear a pin drop. with his head lowered, you think he might be crying, but then he turns to lock eyes with you, and there’s a mean, knowing smirk on his face.

“let me guess. after you met, he reached out to you?”

“is that so strange?”

“it’s not. but i don’t think your loverboy’s been completely honest with you.”

he stands up, his glossy eyes set dark and harsh, at which you frown, not having a clue what he’s trying to say here. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“look, i know that you’re not in love with me. but you shouldn’t think he’s in love with you.”

tilting your head, your face falls, expression fading from pity into hurt. “is this the length you’re willing to go to get me away from another man?”

“no, you don’t get it. joshua and i have history. we didn’t leave things on good terms. now all of a sudden he’s back in my life, flaunting the fact that he’s got you right where he wants—”

“what the fuck are you even talking about? what happened between you?”

“it doesn’t—it doesn’t matter. what matters is that you need to understand he’s using you to get to me.”

“that’s bullshit.”

“go on and ask him about it. see what he says.”

“you’re an ass, jeonghan.”

“he’s the one playing you, not me.” he shrugs, going upstairs for some solitude. you remain frozen in your spot for a bit, thinking about what he’s just told you, and you grab your phone from your backpocket, calling joshua to check if he’s still home.

when you confront him in his apartment, he’s clearly surprised that jeonghan told you about their history at all. the brief hesitance in his voice and the flickering of his eyes was enough to give away that at least some part of it had to be true.

so you told him to leave you alone for a while.

he was using you, and you walked into a trap without knowing it.

unfortunately, you did fall in love with joshua. and even you’ve felt that he harbors some feelings for you, too. but you don’t want to think about it.

you return home in the middle of the night. jeonghan is half-asleep on the couch, a lukewarm cup of coffee on the table in front of him. you feel terrible, not just for waking him, but for treating him the way you have.

“i guess you were right.” you manage to push out of the depths of your throat, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. “i’m sorry. for everything.”

even when you fight with him, there’s a comforting warmth to your home that you have yet to find anywhere else.

maybe it’s because he’s here.

now fully awake, he stands up from the couch, wrapping his arms around you, allowing you to sink into the heat his body.

“take whatever you need from me.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

there’s something sad about it — you’re upset about being used by joshua, and you seek comfort with jeonghan, who’s directly asking you to use him, because for now, it’s the only way he can have you.

and very selfishly, you do use him, all in an attempt to forget about joshua.

he’s swiftly got you splayed out on your dinner table, and the way he looks at you when you’re left in only your lingerie — that is what you crave right now. so much longing, desire. only jeonghan can look at you like that.

he pleasures you for what feels like hours. licking your pussy, sliding his fingers in and out, fucking you and rubbing your clit; he knows you like the back of his hand.

in a way, you do want him. and he feels it, too.

the fresh rift in your relationship with joshua drives you and your husband closer. you begin to appreciate him more, the sex feels more intimate, but that distance between you is still there, and he has yet to tell you what it is that drove him and his former classmate apart.

when joshua calls you, you ignore him. why should you give him your attention?

eventually, he chooses to go by your house with the hope of fixing things, assuming that jeonghan is away at work.

you haven’t shut the door in his face yet only to tell him off. “this whole thing is kind of a dealbreaker, don’t you think?”

“i’m sorry.”

“sorry’s not gonna cut it. why should i believe anything you say? for all i know, you’re still lying to me right now.”

“i’m an asshole, i know. i’m genuinely, really sorry and i know i fucked up. whatever you need me to do, i’ll do it. but please, just—just give me a chance to make it up to you.” he begs, stepping closer to you.

he doesn’t say it literally, but you can both fill in the blanks.

he misses you. and truth be told, you miss him too. as much as you love jeonghan, your dynamic with joshua is vastly different, and it’s something you need to have now that you’ve tasted it.

from his spot by the front door, he suddenly catches the sight of jeonghan in the kitchen, walking around with damp hair and a towel sitting around his hips, his chest completely bare.

it’s hard to take his eyes off him, and his pupils dilate the same way they always do when he looks at you.

“i’ll think about it. just—just go. i don’t want him to see you.” you tell him, missing the way he stared at your husband, pushing him away from your porch and shutting the door with a loud thud.

“who was that?” jeonghan asks, walking over to you with his bowl of breakfast in hand.

you shrug. “mailman. had the wrong address.”

he only hums in response, not letting you know he already recognized joshua when he looked outside the bedroom window after getting out of the shower.

and he decides to take matters into his own hands.

about a week and a half later, you and jeonghan find yourselves at a charity event hosted by an acquaintance, your outfits beautifully matching, which you receive many compliments for.

joshua, you later find, is also invited. when he eventually goes outside through the backdoor, hoping to get some fresh air despite the fact that it’s been raining for hours already, suddenly has jeonghan standing right in front of him.

“enjoying your night, joshuji?”

well, he was.

“i have nothing to say to you.”

“no, but you wanted to have something to say to me, didn’t you?” jeonghan asks rhetorically, his tone so deeply condescending that it makes his former best friend want to jump him.

“leave it to you to be a belittling prick to the guy who’s been having an affair with your wife.”

“all i wanted to say was that your little plan completely backfired. you having ulterior motives with her drove her right into my arms. our marriage has never been better.”

“and yet she’s still not satisfied.”

jeonghan chuckles out of amusement and pride. “look at you. you’ve gotten more bite over the years. i knew you had it in you.”

joshua finds it in him to ask a genuine question. “after everything i just did, she just did — how can you still act like you came out on top?”

“because i know you better than you know yourself. have you never wondered, after all these years, why you’re still so bitter about it?”

he silently glances at him, puzzled.

“you’ve been fucking my wife for one single reason.” jeonghan continues, his voice lowering with each step he takes forward. “because she’s the closest you can get to having me.”

“oh, bullshit.”

“then tell me. why did you go after her in the first place?”

“because she was yours. the one person you love most. i didn’t expect to fall for her along the way.”

the words make jeonghan chuckle, a sound laced with arrogance. “you know, i vaguely remember you using those words, a while ago.”

there’s a dawning horror on joshua’s face when he realizes it — he did use those words years ago, when confessing his love to his best friend.

he tries to regain his composure, but jeonghan has already caught and read his expression. he knows him like the back of his hand, even to this day.

“i broke your heart. you wanted revenge, so you decided to go after my biggest weakness, and as always, you let your feelings get in the way.”

“don’t patronize me.”

“i’m not,” he shoots back immediately, “i’m just stating the truth.”

“whatever. i don’t owe you an explanation. it’s not my fault she fell in love with me instead of you.”

“you’re right, it’s not. but don’t you think she deserves to know that she’s not the only one you’re in love with?”

joshua freezes in his place. it takes him a moment before he can even get anything coherent out of his throat. “if you really think i’m still in love with you after everything that’s—”

“you are. admit it.”

“no.”

“right. i see the way you look at me, shua. how you can’t take your eyes off me when i’m around, or the way you stared at me when i came out of the shower. just own it. for once in your life.”

“what does it even matter? it wouldn’t change anything.”

“you know what i don’t get? why you’ve never asked me about my feelings.”

the words almost render him speechless. because as always, he annoyingly makes a point.

“i just assumed—”

“you just assumed that i didn’t like you back? wow, that’s solid.” taking a step closer, his voice becomes quieter, tauning. “go on. ask me.”

joshua looks up to find a pair of vulnerable, honest eyes staring back at him. it takes him a moment to muster the courage, but he does.

“did you ever have feelings for me?”

jeonghan bites his lip, meeting his eyes with that subtle, lazy smirk he always wears. “i wanted you long before you wanted me. it’s not my fault you didn’t see it.”

this — this is certainly new information. all those years joshua spent resenting him, entirely unaware of this information… he feels like an idiot.

it’s caught him so off guard that he doesn’t know what to say.

jeonghan doesn’t back away from him in the slightest, shrugging his shoulders. “you’ve grown out your hair, like i hoped you would. every time you sat next to me, i kept wondering if you ever noticed how my eyes always lingered on your hands. god, i was so obvious.”

“i never… i never saw.” joshua stutters out absentmindedly, unable to take his eyes off him.

as heavier rain begins to pour down from the sky, jeonghan finally manages to be completely open about his feelings. “but things have changed now. i’m the one who’s in trouble. because i’m in love with two people, neither of which want me back. and that leaves me completely alone.”

jesus christ.

jeonghan isn’t just in love with you, his wife — he’s also in love with him, and he probably has been since day one, but he’s always kept it buried because he thought it wasn’t going to be reciprocated anyway. fuck, no wonder he was never open to you, either.

it really is insanity.

for years, joshua has imagined what revenge would taste like. so he pulls jeonghan in for a harsh kiss, cups his jaw and pulls on his jacket as if he were angry at him, all in the hope that it will give him the feeling he’d hoped for.

but jeonghan’s lips taste more like reconciliation, a taste he craves more of, and he finds himself giving into his greed.

perhaps revenge is overrated.

aaaand mc watches and cheers like zendaya at the end of challengers. the end :D

thank u for reading, let me know if u enjoyed it <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#hong jisoo x reader #joshua hong x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #svt x reader #joshua x reader #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #svt oneshot #svt angst #seventeen fanfic

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hereforuconnwbb · 2 months ago

Text

Foul Play - Chapter 2

paige x azzi (pazzi)

uconnwbb!paige uconnwsoc!azzi

word count: 4.1k

warning: language

hey guys tysm for showing the love for chapter 1 !! i appreciate it sm 🥹 i went straight to working on this chapter a bit after i woke up bc of the motivation from u guys😭 anyways i hope this chapter is alr cs i did get a bit stuck but js came up with smth quickly so it might not be that great and i dont rlly like it... anyways hope u guys enjoy !!🫶🏽

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Paige blinked up at her phone screen, the brightness nearly blinding after a shit night of sleep.

Aubrey: u alive ?

Aubrey: meet me at the cafe before class cs i need caffeine and u need to not look like u wanna kill someone when we show up

She groaned, rolled out of bed, and muttered a curse as her feet hit the cold floor. Her shoulders still ached from yesterday’s scrimmage, but she wasn’t about to admit that out loud. Not after making Marcus look like her bitch.

Paige finally arrived at the cafe, Aubrey was already at a table near the back, sipping something with way too much whipped cream and scrolling through tiktok.

Paige slid into the seat across from her. “You’re disgusting.”

Aubrey didn’t look up. “You’re late.”

“I showed up. That’s enough.”

Aubrey finally looked at her, 1 brow raised. “So, now that your lil murder haze wore off—what’s up with you and Marcus ? I didn’t wanna ask yesterday while you were still heated.”

Paige sipped her coffee, grimaced. “We knew each other back in high school.”

Aubrey leaned in. “Knew each other, like friends ?”

“Yep. Close friends til he slept with my girlfriend at the time.”

Aubrey blinked. “Oh.”

“Yea. Oh.”

“Ok, that explains… everything.”

“He’s lucky I only ghosted him,” Paige said, then took another sip, letting the bitterness settle behind her teeth.

Before Aubrey could respond, a voice behind them cut through the low hum of the cafe.

“Seriously ? This place has like, two clean tables and you had to take mine ?”

Paige didn’t even need to look. She already knew.

Azzi was standing there in a uconn soccer hoodie and leggings, hair still wet from a morning shower, looking pissed about everything.

“Wow,” Paige said without missing a beat. “Didn’t realise seating arrangements were part of your lil dictatorship.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t realize transferring here came with a superiority complex.”

“Trust me, mine’s earned.”

Azzi gave a slow, sarcastic smile. “Yea ? By standing in the middle of the damn path like it’s yours ?”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “You ran into me.”

Azzi scoffed. “Maybe move next time.”

“Maybe watch where you’re going.”

They were locked in now. Neither of them blinked.

Aubrey glanced between them and made a face. “Okkkkk,” she said, dragging out the word, “I think the real issue is caffeine withdrawal, and not whatever weird little rivalry yall are doing.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m leaving.”

“Yea good, run along,” Paige said under her breath.

Azzi turned back just long enough to shoot her a look. “Your ego’s not gonna fit through the classroom door.”

“Guess I’ll just have to squeeze in next to yours.”

Azzi stormed off, and Paige blew out a sharp breath, fingers curling around her coffee cup.

Aubrey whistled low. “Damn. You two got heat.”

Paige glared. “Don’t even start.”

Aubrey paused, then winced. “Shit—I forgot to tell you something yesterday.”

“What ?”

“…She’s dating Marcus.”

Paige blinked. Once. Twice.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I wish,” Aubrey muttered, stirring her drink.

Paige leaned back in her chair, let out a humourless laugh. “Of course. Makes sense. Two egos, one toxic-ass couple. They deserve each other.”

Aubrey gave her a sideways look. “You’re really on one today.”

“I’m calm,” Paige said with a flat smile. “I just know shit when I smell it.”

“Cool. Just maybe don’t say that out loud in class. They’re both in our 9:30.”

Paige’s smile dropped.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Azzi walked out of the cafe with her jaw tight and fists buried in the front pocket of her hoodie as she pulled out her phone and opened the gc with Caroline and Kaitlyn.

Azzi: js ran into that stupid transfer again

Azzi: the one from yesterday

Azzi: paige wtv

Kaitlyn: WIAT what happened ??????????

Kaitlyn: did she say smth ?

Caroline: az wdym ‘again’

Caroline: u never told us there was a first time 😭

Azzi exhaled through her nose, fingers flying across the screen.

Azzi: she was standing in the middle of the damn path yesterday like a traffic cone

Azzi: shoulder checked me

Azzi: acted like it was my fault

Azzi: whole lotta attitude like she runs campus or something

Kaitlyn: no way thats crazy 😭

Caroline: i love her game but like… not her thinking this is HER skl when she js got here 😭

Azzi: and js now she had the nerve to start shit in the cafe

Azzi: sat at my usual table

Azzi: mouthy asf

Azzi: shes got a real chip on her shoulder

Kaitlyn: omg

Kaitlyn: ok but this sounds kinda juicy

Caroline: definitely sounds like theres a lil tension 👀

Azzi: theres nth

Azzi: shes js annoying

Azzi backed out of the chat and opened her messages with Marcus.

Azzi: can u meet me at the cafe ?

Azzi: we can walk to class together

He replied a minute later.

Marcus: yh almost there

Marcus: u good ?

Azzi: fine

Azzi: js meet me out front

She tucked her phone away and leaned against the outside wall of the cafe, exhaling slowly.

Marcus showed up 2 minutes later with his uconn basketball hoodie on, chain glinting in the morning light, and that cocky grin like he didn’t know how to walk normally.

Azzi spotted him weaving through the early class crowd and stepped off the wall.

He leaned in, pecked her on the cheek, then pulled back to look at her. “Babe, you sure you’re good ? You texted like you were ready to murder someone.”

Azzi sighed. “That new basketball transfer ? Paige ?”

Marcus rolled his eyes before she could finish. “I fucking hate her.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “You know her ?”

“Unfortunately.”

There was something in the way he said it so fast and bitterly but she didn’t press. Just raised a brow. “So you also think she’s the most arrogant person on this campus ?”

Marcus huffed a dry laugh. “Always has been. Bro walks around like everyone owes her something.”

Azzi nodded, arms folded. “She shoulder checked me yesterday and then acted like I got in her way.”

Marcus’s jaw clenched. “Yep. Sounds like her.”

Azzi tilted her head. “So what happened ? Why do you hate her ?”

He waved it off. “Old shit. High school drama. Doesn’t matter.”

That made her pause. “Wait… you guys went to the same high school ?”

Marcus hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yea. Different crowds though. She was always doing her own thing.”

Azzi stared at him a moment longer, then let it go.

They started walking toward class together, falling into a comfortable enough silence.

The room was already half full when Azzi and Marcus slid into the back corner row, claiming their usual spot. He slung his arm casually around her shoulders pulling her in close. She let him, leaning slightly into his side, but her eyes drifted out the window as he launched into a story about pickup runs a few years ago at the gym and how he “cooked” 3 guys who are now playing pro. Again.

Azzi nodded at the right parts, hummed in acknowledgment, but mostly tuned out. It wasn’t new. Marcus talked a lot about himself. She used to think it was charming. Now it just filled the space with static.

She was about to check the time when the classroom door opened, and Paige walked in like she owned the place.

Aubrey followed right behind, phone still in hand, looking barely awake. The moment Paige’s eyes landed on Marcus and Azzi cuddled up in the corner, her expression twisted like she’d just smelled something grot.

Paige muttered under her breath, loud enough for half the back row to hear, “Shi I didn’t know this class came with live pda. Gross.”

Aubrey pinched her lips to keep from laughing. “Can you not ?”

Paige didn’t stop. “It’s like watching a bad teen drama in real time.”

Azzi’s head snapped up, her jaw clenching instantly. Marcus looked over too, mouth twitching like he was ready to throw hands if he had the range.

Paige and Aubrey took the opposite end of the back row. Paige threw her bag down and dropped into the seat like the room itself exhausted her.

1 of the girls in front of them turned around with a sweet smile. “You’re Paige right ? The transfer ?”

Paige gave a slow blink. “Unfortunately.”

The girl giggled like it was charming. “I saw your highlights online. You’ve got such good handles.”

“Thanks,” Paige said flatly, not even trying to sound interested.

Another girl chimed in from the row over. “You in a relo or anything ?”

Paige tilted her head. “Nah.”

“Oooooo, so you’re free then ?”

Aubrey groaned and rested her head on her arms. “You guys are bold.”

“I’m just saying,” the first girl said, undeterred, “you’ve got like, main character energy.”

Paige smirked, eyes still cool. “And yet I’ve never been this bored.”

That shut them up. Mostly.

Azzi shifted in her seat, watching it all from across the room. She didn’t know why it irritated her. She shouldn’t care. But the way the girls kept trying, and Paige kept rejecting, like no one was good enough it made her want to say something.

Then Paige leaned over to Aubrey and said, “Maybe I’m just cold cause I haven’t gotten laid in months.”

Aubrey made a sound between a snort and a cough. “Honestly ? That would explain a lot.”

“Probably,” Paige said with a crooked grin, sipping her coffee like she hadn’t just said it in a room full of people.

That’s when a new voice cut in. “Well, if that’s the problem, I’m available whenever.”

They turned to see her leaning back in her chair a row ahead, looking over her shoulder with a soft smile. Dark braids in a high bun, deep brown eyes, tan skin that glowed under the shitty lecture hall lights. She wore a uconn volleyball hoodie and the confidence of someone who was used to being noticed.

Paige blinked. “What’s your name ?”

“Jayla,” she said. “Senior. And, like I said… available.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Got a phone ?”

Jayla tossed her a slow, deliberate smile. “You wanna put your number in it ?”

“Sure,” Paige said, holding out her hand. Jayla passed her the phone.

Aubrey watched this unfold like it was live theatre. “Oh now you wanna be social.”

“I’m adaptable,” Paige murmured, tapping her number in and handing it back.

Across the room, Marcus stiffened. His jaw locked, and his grip around Azzi’s shoulders subtly tightened.

Azzi didn’t notice. She was still staring at Paige.

Jayla winked as she turned back around. "Thank you superstar.”

Paige leaned back in her chair with a smug little smirk.

Marcus muttered, “That girl’s a fucking joke.”

Azzi frowned. “What ?”

“I said, she’s pathetic,” he repeated, louder.

Azzi narrowed her eyes, watching Paige again. “You sure you’re not just mad she didn’t flirt with you ?”

Marcus scoffed. “Why would I care ? I got you.”

From across the row, Paige’s voice floated out lazily, not even bothering to look at them. “Might wanna keep your boyfriend on a leash, Soccer Barbie. He’s foaming at the mouth.”

Azzi sat up straighter. “Say that again ?”

Paige finally turned, eyes sharp. “Didn’t stutter.”

Aubrey sighed. “Here we go.”

Azzi twisted in her seat. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh I think I do,” Paige said with a small, cold smile. “I’ve known him for a while and I’ve seen guys just like him my whole life. Big talk, small… game.”

Marcus sat forward. “Try me, Bueckers.”

Paige’s smile didn’t flinch. “Thought I already did. On the court yesterday. Remember how that went ?”

Azzi looked between them, confused. “Wait—what ?”

“Nothing,” Marcus snapped. “She’s just running her mouth again.”

Paige gave a mock pout. “Nawwww you’re still mad I crossed you up in front of our teams ?”

“You got lucky.”

“I got buckets.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Azzi cut in, her voice rising. “Both of you shut up.”

A tense silence fell over the back corner.

Paige just leaned back again, eyes on the ceiling. “Gosh. This school’s full of clowns.”

Aubrey nudged her. “You’re gonna fight someone before we even get to midterms.”

Paige muttered under her breath, “Don’t tempt me.”

Jayla turned back around just enough to whisper, “I text you or you text me ?”

Paige smirked. “You text me.”

—-------------------------------------------------

The rest of class dragged on. The professor rambled on about economic systems, but no one in the back row was paying attention except Aubrey, who half-heartedly took notes just to avoid getting roped into more drama. Azzi stayed tense, arms folded, lips pressed together as she glared holes into her notebook. Marcus tried to whisper something to her, but she brushed him off with a short shake of her head.

Meanwhile, Paige sat back with her legs manspreading, spinning a pen between her fingers. Every so often, she glanced over at Jayla, who was doing an impressive job of pretending she wasn’t glancing back.

As soon as the professor dismissed class, Jayla stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. She didn’t even wait for Paige to move first—just turned, leaned in with that same easy smile, and said, “So… are you free tonight ?”

Paige gave a slow nod. “Yea. But just so we’re clear…” Her tone flattened slightly, not cold but firm. “I’m not looking for anything serious. Strictly casual.”

Jayla didn’t flinch. “Good. Me neither.” Then she smiled again, bright and warm. “I’m not the clingy type.”

Paige gave a small, appreciative smirk. “Then we’ll get along fine.”

Jayla tapped her phone. “I’ll text you. See you tonight, superstar.”

Paige watched her walk off for a second before turning to grab her own stuff. Aubrey had already stood and was slinging her bag over her shoulder, giving her a look.

“What ?” Paige asked.

Aubrey blinked slowly. “You. Jayla.”

“What about us ?” Paige asked as they started walking out together.

“She’s like… sunshine. You’re not.”

“She said it’s casual,” Paige said with a shrug. “I’m not gonna fall in love with her or whatever. It’s just gonna be a hookup.”

Aubrey gave her a skeptical look. “You don’t even like people. What makes you think you’re gonna enjoy this one ?”

“I don’t have to like her,” Paige replied dryly. “I just have to like what we’re doing.”

Aubrey made a face. “tmi, bro.”

Then she glanced sideways at Aubrey. “But did you catch Marcus’s face when I gave her my number ?”

Aubrey’s expression shifted. “I did, actually.”

“Looked like someone spat in his drink.”

Aubrey nodded slowly. “It was definitely a look.”

Paige exhaled through her nose. “Wouldn’t even be surprised if there’s something weird going on there.”

Aubrey narrowed her eyes. “Like what ?”

“I dunno.” Paige shrugged like she didn’t care, but her voice had that sharp edge again. “He got real twitchy the second I started talking to her. That’s like ‘I’ve got secrets’ behaviour.”

“You think he’s messing around with Jayla ?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say it.”

Paige smirked. “Exactly.”

They walked in silence for a few steps.

Then Aubrey said, “You planning on saying anything ? Like to Azzi ?”

Paige scoffed. “Fuck no. That girl hates me and I hate her too.”

She pushed the door open, let the sunlight spill over them, and said, “Plus, I’ve got better things to do than get caught in someone else’s shit.”

Aubrey didn’t press. But she saw the way Paige’s jaw flexed as they stepped outside.

—-------------------------------------------------

Later that day they settled onto a weathered wooden bench beneath a tree after deciding to get some air instead of staying in their rooms all day. Aubrey pulled her phone out and started scrolling, while Paige absentmindedly drummed her fingers on the bench, still simmering from the morning’s tense class.

“So, what’s your take on this season ?” Aubrey asked, breaking the silence. “You think the team’s gonna be better this year ? Cause you know, with you coming in all ‘transfer superstar’ and all that.”

Paige snorted. “I’m not about the hype. Just wanna run it back on the court and kill it. No distractions.”

Aubrey smiled knowingly. “Yea, no distractions. Like your little hook up with Jayla tonight and Marcus and Azzi being up your ass after two days into being here on campus.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

They fell quiet for a moment, eyes drifting across to the walkway where a familiar figure leaned against a lamp post nearby.

Marcus.

He was talking to Jayla, who looked frustrated, arms crossed, lips moving fast like she was telling him off. Paige tensed, her gaze sharp.

“I don’t like what I'm seeing,” she muttered, nudging Aubrey. “What the hell are they doing ?”

Aubrey squinted. “Looks like they’re arguing. Jayla’s pissed about something… maybe because of tonight ? Ion know.”

Paige’s stomach tightened. They edged a little closer but stayed behind a low bush so they wouldn’t be spotted.

Marcus’s voice was low, clipped, and though they couldn’t hear the words, his gestures were sharp with his finger jabbing, then a hand raised like a warning.

Jayla shook her head, then suddenly pulled out her phone, fingers flying over the screen. Paige’s phone buzzed right then.

She pulled it out, eyes narrowing as she read.

Jayla: hey i changed my mind about tn. im not interested anymore

Paige’s mouth tightened, the words stinging more than she wanted to admit. She looked back at Jayla and Marcus—Jayla’s expression was tight, eyes flicking nervously toward Marcus, who looked like he was watching every move like a hawk.

“Bullshit,” Paige muttered under her breath.

Aubrey put a steady hand on her shoulder. “Forget it, Paige. Let’s just go do some weights to forget about this. Don’t let this shit ruin your day.”

Paige shook her off with a sharp edge. “He’s always fucking everything up for me. He can’t stand me. And now he’s doing this to piss me off even more.”

Aubrey sighed but said nothing. They watched as Marcus gave Jayla a final stern look, and she reluctantly slid the phone back into her pocket. Neither of them noticed that Paige and Aubrey were watching as they were too caught up in their own conversation to suspect anyone could be watching.

Paige’s jaw clenched as she stared after them, a cold fire sparking inside her.

“Mark my words,” she whispered. “I’m not letting that asshole ruin this year. I will literally ruin his year.”

—-------------------------------------------------

Azzi was already on the field, cleats digging into the turf as she moved through a warm-up circuit alone. Her passes were sharp, her touches clean, but her jaw stayed tight, focus narrowed more out of tension than discipline. She barely looked up when she heard voices approaching.

Caroline and Kaitlyn strolled over from the far side of the complex, both in training gear and mid-laugh about something. Caroline spotted Azzi first and gave her a wave. “Damn, you’re early. Grinding already ?”

Azzi slowed to a jog, grabbing her water bottle from the ground as she met them at the sideline. “Needed to clear my head.”

Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow, glancing between her and the goalpost Azzi had clearly been aiming at. “Judging by the way that net’s getting bullied, I’m guessing something’s up.”

Azzi hesitated for a second, then exhaled through her nose. “I already caught you guys up. It’s just… that situation. Me and Paige. The whole beef.”

Caroline didn’t say anything, but the flicker in her expression said she understood.

Kaitlyn gave a low whistle. “Yea, that’s the kind of drama that’ll make you wanna kick something. Or someone.”

Azzi gave a dry half-smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yea, well. I’m trying not to let it mess with my game.”

Caroline bumped her shoulder gently. “Good. Keep it that way. We got a trial game in two days so no time for distractions.”

Azzi nodded, jaw tightening again as she tied her hair back with a quick motion. She didn’t say it, but the distraction was already there.

“Alrightyyyy, let’s start.” Kaitlyn clapped her hands.

The 3 of them jogged toward the cones laid out on the field for their session that they planned on. For now, Azzi forced the thoughts out of her mind. Just touches. Just drills. Just the ball and the work. Everything else could wait.

—-------------------------------------------------

A few minutes later, Paige and Aubrey cut across the campus walkway that ran alongside the soccer field, heading toward the gym. Paige still had a storm in her eyes with her jaw locked.

Aubrey kept glancing sideways at her. “You good ?”

“No,” Paige muttered. “But weights will help.”

They neared the edge of the field where Azzi, Caroline, and Kaitlyn were locked into a sprint-drill circuit. Azzi spotted them first locking in Paige’s tall frame, blonde hair, and that infuriatingly calm walk beside Aubrey. Her stomach turned. The irritation she’d been working to bury all afternoon resurfaced in an instant.

“Yuck,” she muttered under her breath, eyes locked on Paige like she’d just seen something offensive.

Caroline glanced at her sideways. “Ignore it.”

But Azzi didn’t. Instead, she took a sharp touch on the ball during their next passing drill and, with a flick of her foot and a bit too much heat, sent it sailing straight towards the path where Paige and Aubrey were walking.

The ball skidded across the grass and thumped to a stop right in front of Paige’s feet.

She paused, glancing down, then up at the field. Her eyes found Azzi almost immediately.

Aubrey raised her brows. “Was that—”

“Yep,” Paige said coldly.

Without hesitation, Paige bent down, picked up the ball, and turned to the opposite direction of the field. She booted it hard, sending it flying across the grass toward the far end of the field.

Caroline and Kaitlyn both froze, wide-eyed. Azzi’s head snapped toward the ball’s route, her hands lifting in disbelief.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” she muttered, storming off in that direction with quick, frustrated strides.

Kaitlyn turned to Caroline.

Caroline just sighed. “It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

Meanwhile, Paige didn’t look back. She just kept walking beside Aubrey, who shook her head, both amused and mildly stressed.

“You’re playing with fire,” Aubrey said under her breath.

“I’m done playing,” Paige shot back, voice flat. “She wants to start shit ? She picked the right day.”

And with that, they disappeared into the gym entrance, the tension they left behind still crackling across the field.

—-------------------------------------------------

Paige and Aubrey had just left the gym, muscles burning and clothes damp with sweat from their weight session. The late afternoon sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows across the campus as they headed back toward the dorms. The air was cooler now, but Paige still felt a fire burning under her skin.

They rounded a corner near the soccer field, and suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Paige spotted Azzi, Caroline, and Kaitlyn, walking slowly together, their faces all pulled tight with frustration.

Azzi’s jaw was clenched so hard Paige could practically hear it. Her fists were balled at her sides, and her strides were sharp, like every step was trying to shake off the shitty mood that clung to her.

“Shit,” Aubrey muttered under her breath, slowing down. “Looks like tonight’s gonna be rough for her.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed as they drew closer. She caught the tail end of Azzi snapping at Caroline and Kaitlyn, her voice low but heated. “Marcus bailed on me. Again. Said he’s ‘busy’ or some bullshit. Like, who the hell gets ‘busy’ on a free day that we had plans on ?”

Caroline exchanged a quick glance with Kaitlyn. “That sucks, Az. He’s been weird lately.”

Azzi threw her hands up, then stopped mid-step when she spotted Paige and Aubrey approaching.

Paige kept her expression neutral, even cold. Aubrey gave a quick, awkward smile and stepped forward slightly.

“Hey guys… Sorry about earlier,” Aubrey said softly, glancing between them.

Caroline forced a smile but didn’t say much. Kaitlyn nodded, eyes wary but understanding. “It’s ok. We get it.”

Azzi’s glare didn’t soften as Paige passed close by. “Whatever,” she snapped, voice sharp.

Paige didn’t respond. Instead, she kept walking, muscles tense but refusing to give Azzi the satisfaction of a reaction.

Aubrey caught up beside her, muttering, “You and Azzi are really building something special.”

Paige huffed out a humourless laugh, eyes still hard. “Yea. Mutual hatred. It’s beautiful.”

As they disappeared down the walkway toward their dorms, the weight of the tension between the 2 groups lingered in the cooling air unspoken but undeniable.

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

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #ncaa wbb #wbb #wnba basketball #dallas wings #womens basketball #wnba

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konigsblog · 1 year ago

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adding onto this post

photo credit: @ave661

synopsis: sucking your lieutenant off, a gun pressed against the back of your head encouraging you to do your best.

tw/cw: gun play, teasing, blowjob, bondage, fear play. MDNI 18+

It almost feels as if all eyes are on you, like you're performing in front of thousands of people, desperate to perform as well as you possibly can. Although there aren't hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people watching you. Instead, it's your lieutenant, and he has the muzzle of his pistol on the crown of your skull.

You're sitting on your knees against the dirty concrete floor, your wrists tied behind your back, restraining you and holding you down. You're bound to the floor to act as a fleshlight and a sex doll for Simon, the perverted and debauched man that gazes down at you, the intense eye contact almost threatening. You sit between Simon's muscular thighs, gazing up at him with desperation visible in your glossy yes. You crave his validation, his compliments, and his praise, but right now you're left petrified, perhaps even mortified. The gun is fully loaded, which leaves you shaken up, attempting to act as obedient as possible. Your job is to obey his every command and do whatever he pleases, to please your superiors.

Your eyes are wide and full of horror when he hits the barrel of the gun against your head teasingly. You'd be lying if you said the thrill and anticipation didn't leave your panties soaked. Your thighs are glistening, coated in the sticky, pearly shine of your sweet arousal. Simon doesn't react; he doesn't let out a sound, not even a grumble, forcing you to do even better and push yourself further, attempting to make the man come. Through frustration and concern, you quicken your pace, bobbing your head up and down his lengthy, leaning cock with your eyes glistening up at him, the ache between your thighs intensifying yet being ignored and neglected.

Simon cups your jaw gently, almost too softly and tenderly considering his aggressiveness and frustration towards you prior, feeling almost like a façade. His other gloved hand holds the pistol, a low and guttural chuckle emitting from him, getting off to the power, control, and authority he has over his little recruit. He gazes down at you, watching your eyes flicker away, the intimidation leaving you uncomfortable and horrified. You can taste his bitter, salty cum on your tongue, and it lingers. the taste—something you're unfamiliar with. Such a docile, careful thing below Simon, naïve for falling into this trap.

You try your hardest not to let him down, not to gag or heave or whine. You maintain eye contact with him through pitiful and muffled weeps, zealous and eager to follow along with whatever he says. You will agree; it doesn't matter what he says, you'll do whatever it takes to please the pervert.

You're riddled with anxiety and fear, causing your stomach to churn, tears rolling down your cheeks, and your bottom lip quivering despite being wrapped around his veiny, girthy shaft. Simon cocks his head to the side, and you can sense and feel his cruel and corrupted grin from behind the balaclava that only intensifies his terrifying persona, getting off to a sickening form of pleasure that causes his tip to weep orbs of his white arousal, creamy beads rolling down his shaft. He can practically smell your fear, with your pussy drooling and leaving your panties ruined from your sweet, delicious fluids.

Such an obedient, scared little thing beneath him, shaking pathetically whenever he rubs the gun against your cheek teasingly, encouraging you to do better, to act your best for him, and to not fall behind or lack effort.

Just sit pretty and obey, love.

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killergee · 1 year ago

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Part 3! Sorry for the late update, but here's the last part, my friends. I had no idea what to do, so I fell into a good old trope. Slight nsfw, but it’s mainly just Hoshina and his dirty mind, hehe. Oh, and some kissing.

Summary: Angry, frustrated, jealous, and trapped in an elevator. Who will crack first?

P1 P2 P3

Tagslist: @surprisemodafakas @yrxhyes @voidsatoru @vash-yuu @er0ssu @rosesandquartzz

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

Hoshina knew he was the only one at fault for testing his own patience, but God was he so sure he was going to explode if things continued like this.

He wanted you to be the one to take the final step and cross the distance. He wanted to see you want him like you said you did so many months ago. To see that passion for him once again.

That didn’t mean he waited around for you to confess, though. No, he didn’t hold back when it came to you.

If anything, he became greedy when it came to you.

Hoshina didn't know how he survived before, now knowing what your touch felt like. It felt like fire on his skin. One that left a burning desire that he only knew to quell by grasping at you for more. Yet, even then, it wasn't enough. You always left him wanting more. You left him clinging to what was left of his sensibilities to not take you there and then. Hoshina thinks he must be a masochist because of how he kept pushing for more, knowing you'll reject him or that he'll have to stop himself before he goes too far and ruins everything.

Yet, when you did accept his affections, the feeling was unparalleled. When you did reciprocate, it made him feel butterflies in his stomach. It made him feel a different type of warmth, a different sense of fulfillment. One that told him it was worth it to keep trying.

So, he gave in to his desires again and again and again. As long as he doesn't straight-up confess, he still has a shot at making you take action. Right?

Hoshina groans as he finishes another one of his reports. Mina has been working him to the bone lately. Taking him out of sessions to work on mission plans, interrupting him mid lunch to accompany her to meetings, even going as far as interrupting his midnight training sessions with you to ask for his opinion on the production of a new weapon. Hoshina swears he’s barely seen you for the last two weeks because of this. To say he was a bit annoyed would be an understatement. Especially since because of his busy nature, Mina delegated his tasks to you to handle. Tasks that included working with his unit.

Now, this normally wouldn’t be a problem if Kafka hadn’t taken such a liking to you. Hoshina should’ve known Kafka would like you after he overheard your conversation with him the first time. While trapped in his office, it takes all his efforts to not jump out the window and tell Kafka to take a step back from you. He didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, stress, or withdrawal from your presence, but he felt absurdly angry at seeing you being so friendly with Kafka. Hell, even seeing you laughing with his unit left a bitter taste in his mouth.

While you and his unit seemed to be getting closer, you and Hoshina haven’t made any progress at all since that night. Hoshina felt frustrated on so many different levels and mixed with the pressure to not disappoint his superior, Hoshina was so wired he could barely sit still. He nearly snapped his pen in half just thinking about it.

He either needed to train or fuck this out of his system.

He couldn’t concentrate on anything. The words on the paper in front of him were starting to blur, and he was seconds away from writing “because this is stupid” as his rationale for rejecting proposals.

Looking up at the clock and seeing the hand tick closer to 2am, he groans into his hands and decides that the responsible choice would be to go to sleep and pray that tomorrow never came.

Putting on his jacket, he barely gives his desk a second glance as he leaves to lock the office door. Once in the elevator, he pushes the button to the fourth floor and immediately slumps against the railing on the wall of the elevator. With his hundredth sigh of the day, he tries to think on the brighter side. Since no one would be up at this god forsaken hour, he didn’t need to wait for the elevator to open on every floor.

When the elevator stops, Hoshina rolls his eyes at his luck. Looking up at the ceiling and exhaling, he doesn’t bother to acknowledge the person entering the elevator.

It wasn’t until he heard the familiar click of your tongue does he snap his head down to see you standing beside him.

There you were.

Standing with your arms crossed and staring at the doors of the elevator as if they’ve wronged you. The object of his affections and his frustrations. The person he was craving most at the moment.

Seeing you in the flesh again, skin pink probably from showering, shirt unbuttoned a little too low combined with the scent of your faded shampoo wafting through the elevator…

Fuck it, the training room will have to do, Hoshina decides, quickly leaning forward to press the button to the second floor. He can feel the weird look you’re giving him, but he decides for both of your sakes he’s going to keep looking at the doors. God, he couldn’t believe your presence alone was doing it for him. He needed out now.

But, unfortunately for him, the world continued to ignore his wishes. With a slight tremble, the elevator slows in its tracks until it abruptly stops. Not being able to believe his luck, it wasn’t until the lights began to dim that he lets out a curse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hears you say as you immediately dig into your pocket to get your phone. Pressing the help button on the elevator, he waits for you to finish your call with security. With the way you were scowling, he knew the news couldn’t be good. With it also being so late, he doubts anyone would come rescue you guys any time soon.

“Yea sure, we can have super suits and high-tech weapons, but god forbid we have a working elevator” you mumble sarcastically after hanging up the phone. Barely looking at him, you announce, “they said they’ll have it fixed within an hour.”

“That’s fucking great,” Hoshina groans, massaging his temples with one hand as he curses whatever god fucking with him right now. Finally turning to look at you, he notices how far you were from him. You were practically squishing yourself into the corner of the elevator to distance yourself. With the night taking away his patience, he comments without any restraint. "Now what’s got ya so pissed off?”

You turn to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“I said what’s got ya so mad ya can’t even stand to be in the same space as me,” Hoshina scoffs, adding fuel to the flames. “Scared I got cooties? A little too late for that, I’m sure.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You hiss, anger rolling off you. The piercing glare you sent his way satisfied him in a twisted way he couldn’t understand. He’ll blame the adrenaline and the frustration.

“What are you even doing here so late? Ah, sneaking out from the Captain’s room, I’m sure." You spit venomously, mocking his phrasing. "Wasn’t satisfied enough, so you’re coming to me?”

“Now what the hell are ya going on about?”

Your eyes narrow a fraction more. “Oh sorry, Vice-Captain. Did I hit a nerve? Sad that the Captain didn’t like you enough to let you stay the night?”

“You’re being ridiculous, you’re lucky no one else is here to hear you say that. If ya weren’t you, I’d have you punished for talking about Min- Captain Ashiro like that.” Shit, he was losing his grip.

You let out a hollow chuckle devoid of any humour. “No, no, you don’t need to correct yourself like that in front of me, Vice-Captain. I won’t tell anyone,” you say, drawing out the syllables of his title.

“Don’t call me that, y/n,” he growls. “Nothing is going on betwe-”

“You think I’m fucking stupid? Everything you’ve done to me. The late night training sessions, 'working' together on reports, having lunch together, everything that we’ve done together you’re now off doing it with her.” You continue, your voice getting more heated with every word. “Her interrupting us again and again, you think I can’t take a fucking hint? I know my place now, so you don’t need to worry about anything.”

“Y/n, it’s nothing like that. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t b-”

His explanation falls on deaf ears as you continue your angry rant. “You know what? Kafka was right.”

Heart stopping, the flash of heat Hoshina felt throughout his body broke the dam holding the last bits of his sanity. “What’s Kafka got to do with anything?”

“Kafka noticed how you two were always together for the last couple of weeks. I told him it was nothing, but I guess I owe him an apology. I’d hate to see the look on his face when I tell him.”

“Ya seriously trusting Kafka over me?”

“I mean, why not? He’s trustworthy, he’s kind, he’s reliable-”

Hoshina lets out a hostile scoff, “Oh, and I’m not?”

“He’s never touched me and then gone off and-”

“He’s never what?” Hoshina pushes off the wall, making his way into your corner. “He better not touch you the way I do. And even if he did," his eyes gleam in a dangerous manner, "he'll never be able to make you feel the way I make you feel.”

Hoshina's tone is strong and sure. “Stop talking about that damn brat and listen. Nothing is going on between me and the Captain. I do not like her like that and I can promise you I never will.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes you hesitate. But you need his words. You need solid proof that he feels the same need for you that you do for him—so you push on anyway. “How can I be sure? How can I trust you?”

Not one to backdown, you meet him in the middle before he could completely corner you. With your finger to his chest, Hoshina takes a step back. His attempt to put space between you doesn't deter you as you push forward. In fact, it emboldens you to press on until his back hits the wall and your as nose to nose as you possibly can with your height difference.

Hoshina couldn’t think straight. The only thing he hears from you is jealousy, and it's going straight down to his dick. The feel of your body on his, the heat of the argument, the intensity of your glare, he was about to snap. "Please don't do that," Hoshina hisses.

“Where’s all the heat from before? Answer my question."

"Y/n."

The sternness of his voice makes you falter.

His hands raise slightly in a sign of surrender. "Don't touch me if you're not willing to take responsibility for your actions." He says in a teasing voice, but even you could hear the strain in them.

“What are you talking about.”

“If ya touch me now, I can’t promise ya that I’ll be a gentleman about it.” As if warning you about what's to come, Hoshina brings his hands down onto your hips, pulling you close until your hips press against his. His actions evoke a different kind of heat than your argument.

“How could I ever want anyone else when you’re the only one who’s always on my mind. You think everything I’ve done to ya up to this point was casual? That I was only teasing ya for fun?”

“Ya want proof? Fine.” He brings your hand to rest over his chest, his heart beating wildly at your touch. To lay it all down on the table, to bare his soul to you, he'll do it all if it means even the slightest chance you'll accept him.

"Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to move away, to not touch you, to not love you, and I will never bother you again." He grits through his teeth. "God, tell me now so I can stop myself before it's too late." Maybe it already was, but he won't tell you that.

At your silence, his heart plummets. Hoshina lets go of your hand. “Sorry-”

"Kiss me, asshole."

"I- what?"

"Fine, I'll do it myself." You grab the back of his head and pull him towards you, lips crashing into his in a passionate fury.

After a beat, Hoshina hungrily returns your passion. His hands back onto your body with a fervor. The kiss was heated. It tasted like frustration, anger, jealousy and want. It was exhilarating and intoxicating and Hoshina didn’t want it to end.

Breaking the kiss for air, the intensity of your gaze sends a delightful shiver up his spine. "You drive me insane, you know that? Getting off on teasing me and then trynna back away when you finally got the chance to do something, to do anything. Do I need to spell it out for you? I want you. I want you all for myself." you say, grabbing a handful of his hair with a strength that was bordering the line between painful and amazing.

"Take responsibility? Talk about your fucking self. You've ruined me for anyone else. Do something about it."

“Yes ma’am.” Without hesitation, Hoshina dives back in for a kiss, and all that could be felt was lips on lips and the sting of teeth.

Hands grasping at every inch of your skin, he turns you and pushes you against the wall of the elevator. Lips moving from yours to your neck, his hand hungrily tugs at the top of your shirt. Unable to control his strength, the button pops, but your gasp is replaced by a moan as he bites into the expanse of your neck.

Motivated by the sounds you make, Hoshina snakes his arm behind your back—pressing your body against his in an almost suffocating manner. Blinded by his eagerness, he didn’t notice the lights turning back on and the elevator running again. It's not until the doors ding open, and you push him away does he finally come back to his senses.

Moving away from him, you use your hand to clasp at the top of your shirt—trying to replicate the security of the button he ripped off. You have half the mind to yell at him, but the smugness in his smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Satisfaction reeked from his body, and his cat-like eyes raking over yours made your knees weak.

The next time the doors open, he takes your hand in his and leads you out. "This isn't my floor," you say face flushed as you knew where he was heading.

"Yep, it's mine," he replies with uncontainable excitement.

He turns his head to glance back at you. “If I knew all it took for ya to confess was to trap ya in an elevator with me, I would’ve done this much sooner.” Hoshina says with a cheeky grin, hand gripping yours in a way that said you weren’t leaving him any time soon.

You roll your eyes, but you continue to follow him anyways. A small smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re unbelievable.”

#hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #self insert #y/n #kaiju no.8 fanfic #kaijuu 8 gou #kaiju no. 8

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katnissandpeetamellark · 2 years ago

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What’s interesting to me is people who’ve only seen the movie saying Coriolanus was “sweet” or “innocent” in the beginning

Reading the book the first thing you really get from him is his bitterness and a false sense of superiority over everyone (even his remaining family)

It’s interesting how vastly different the opinion of him can be based on which media you’ve consumed first.

#not a call out to anyone bc I definitely CAN see why you’d believe that from the movie #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tbosas #thg #coriolanus snow #hunger games #president snow

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catiuskaa · 1 year ago

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Game On, Game Boy.

SUMMARY: dating someone from the opposing team is banned? So what? Minho isn’t dating that cute girl with the purple headset, they clearly hate each other! …wait, what? You never said it was her? O-oh… um, well…

REQUESTED! here by my pookie dookie @15092000volcano, who OMG LOVE YOU GOT SOME IDEAS™️ and i’m 100% here for it!

WC: 3.8k

CW: extensive use of curse words, use of petnames, gaming lingo that i won’t explain (sorry), a sneaky mention of changlix and a ridiculously explicit mention of hyunin because idk broski i just felt like it

[♦️★ 🎯 ★♦️]

“Are you sure this is the section you’re supposed to be in, Lee?”

Minho’s eyes turned darker and he chuckled a cold laugh that could’ve frozen the Han river over a hundred times.

No one noticed the slight smile he let out that was quickly hidden again.

“Look who it is,” Minho beamed a newly found energy, as if a dark, bad, and rude soul had just taken control of his mean smile. “If it isn’t other than the wrongly chosen personality hire of… mhh… I don’t remember… sorry, dollface, what’s the name of your team again?”

Behind him, a blond guy stared at him, eyebrows shot up, eyes wide. He turned around and faced one of his other team players.

“Hey, hyung. Does Minho know that girl?” Felix asked in a low voice. “He… doesn’t look too happy.” That was a nice way to put it.

Changbin rolled his eyes at the encounter, throwing his arm over Felix’s shoulders.

“Her username is something like ‘soondondori25”. Minho and her met a while back, in high school. As little as he’s said, one thing’s for sure: they really don’t like each other.”

Despite it not looking too good for the team the fact that its leader wasn’t behaving with their opponents, Seo huffed, not paying any mind to the arguing pair, unlike Felix, whose eyes stayed glued to his other hyung and the new girl, still going at each other.

"I bet you’re still using the overpowered weapon. Can’t really get past Nerf Bastian, can ya?” You stated mockingly, your cheeks red as you kept arguing. “I guess you need all the help you can get."

"Says the one who relies on camping. Can't face me head-on, huh?” Minho grinned with a sense of superiority, stepping forward. “Scared, dollface?”

You bit your lip, your eyes locked on his.

"You won’t need to worry about my team’s name, sweetie. I’ll make sure you never forget it.” Your stare would’ve burnt a forest just by staring at the grass for a bit too long.

“Still can't win without relying on cheap strategies, can you?"

Minho settled his hands on his pockets, halfly staring down at you, as if mocking your height.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You chuckled lowly. You said it with a smirk, which Minho was fast to return. “Still stuck on that low-tier character, right? It seems like you need to step up your game, buddy."

“Oh, please!” Minho passed a hand through his hair, his tone hinting mocked amusement. He bent down lightly, his face in front of yours. “You're just a sore loser who can't handle a fair fight. Go back to your corner and cry some more, dollface.”

“Keep telling yourself that. We both know you're just jealous I'm better at this game than you."

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, dollface. I still manage to win against you. Seems like you're just bitter about losing."

The battle of comebacks kept going on, both of you stepping closer to each other with each sentence, as if about to throw hands.

“Ah, fuck! They do this every year!” Someone from your team approached the both of you while cursing. You ignored him at first, but then halfly gasped, facing your teammate.

“Jisung, I swear he started.”

“Yeah, Jisung. I started.” Minho cackled mockingly. “Tell Santa so I don’t have toys this Christmas.”

Han squinted at Minho. “Sure. As if I fucking care.” He then turned to face you, handing you a red shirt. “Yours. We’re red for the first round.” He stated seriously, taking on the role of team leader.

Minho and you stared at each other deeply just as Jisung flew the scene, missing how you two were basking in the glow of shared secrets.

“I’m team red, bunny,” you snickered at him in a smug tone. “You know what that means.”

“Superstition is for the rookies, dollface,” he said, his smile confirming the nickname you gave him was well justified.

No one knew the troubles the both of you had gone through. That’s why you smiled, knowing that when the round ended and you were both done for the day, —when you won, of course—, your boyfriend would still owe you a kiss.

All this mean smack talk was purely for the benefit of the other rival teams. Minho was happy to let you prove yourself to those who couldn’t grasp the idea that a girl in sparkly, cute dresses and what some would call ‘over the top’ makeup belonged in the competition. Minho and you both knew that one of the toughest rounds would certainly be against one another. You know exactly how good of a gamer he is, and likewise, his team had already heard about how your team had broken records during trials —named team Levanter, even if your endearing opponent pretended not to know it—, but there was no real animosity here.

Not an easy thing to hide, considering that to you it was obiously noticeable how Minho’s eyes hadn’t left your lips in what seemed like ten minutes. But yeah. No animosity. Just a knack for competition. And a bet that decides who’s making dinner for the night, but right now…

Right now was about the fight.

Both team Levanter and team Thunderous were sat in places, red vs blue once again as several cameras from the streaming platform that broadcasted the event were turned on, recording each player while the ref briefly introduced them with a loud tone for the crowd.

“Levanter, ready?” He asked with a smile meant for the thousands and thousands of viewers streaming online as the camera focused on him shortly.

“Ready,” Jisung smirked, to which everyone in your team logged in the computers before you as a response.

“Thunderous, ready?”

Minho smiled in your direction, holding back a chuckle when he noticed you had already been staring, then threw a wink at him.

“Ready,” he said.

You two exchanged a glance, openly competitive, any other meanings hidden between you two and the red thread that joined your little fingers, a silent agreement breaking the rules —the same ones you broke barely half an hour ago, when his lips consumed yours, or that you’re probably going to be rehashing the whole gameplay in your shared apartment and no one will know.

(And sure, you might do other things, too.)

The sound blasted in your headset when you settled it in place. You gave one last look to Minho, and he mumbled towards you with a smile.

“See you on the other side, dollface.”

“You’re the worst.” An easy shorthand for love you.

He smiled, and there was a knowledge that made your heart smile too, because winning or losing, in the end, you were coming back to his arms.

Your hands tightened and you cracked your knuckles, settling them back in place, one over the keyboard and the other on the mouse. You were nervous, yeah, but not afraid. This was your comfort zone. This is your comfort zone.

“COUNTDOWN,” the ref shouted, the numbers showing up in the complete view in the big screen behind him. “STARTING IN 3…! 2…! 1…!”

[♦️★ 🎯 ★♦️]

The vehicle shuddered when you closed the door with a thud.

You two stayed in silence for a bit, merely listening to the rain as the droplets hit the car nonchalantly.

“Can I be smug about it?” You smiled cheekily.

“Just ‘cause I ain’t that much of a sore loser, you get two minutes.” He scoffed with fake annoyance, which wasn’t truly worrying because he didn’t put any effort on hiding his smile, too.

You snickered, turning your body to face him, teasing him even before starting.

“But you owe me something first, dollface.”

You rolled your eyes. “It ain’t even that good of a nickname, Min.”

But then his hand, always a little colder than yours, swiftly gripped you by your neck, fingers stroking your nape as you held back a shiver, easily less than an inch away from him now.

“Would you rather I call you buddy?”

You smiled, eyes wondering where to focus, in a trance between his eyes, deep and enticing, or his lips, sweet and so stupidly kissable.

“Hurt much?” You pouted mockingly. You were obviously not expecting him to bite your lower lip.

He laughed, a menace he was, but he was quickly winned over —dare I say once more— when you pulled him towards your lips by tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Minho smiled as you let him take control.

“Your two minutes are over.” He whispered over your lips, leaving a small peck on your forehead before turning to the steering wheel.

You were about to complain, but that was before his hand, a bit warmer now, was strategically placed just a bit further up your knee.

He gave you a playful side eye.

You rolled your eyes again, to which he chuckled.

“Before you start snickering and bitching about what you want for dinner, princess,” Minho started speaking with a smile, his hand not leaving your leg as he started the engine, “seeing as I didn’t go to the grocery store and neither did you, we’re doing take-out.”

“That’s so unfair!” You argued as he manoeuvred to get the car out of the parallel spot. You stayed silent until he did, faking a pout. “You made me buy groceries last time I lost.”

He cackled. “Because I drive, silly.”

You glared at him. He grinned.

“I’ll call your mom.” You threatened. “I’ll make sure she takes the cats with her the days you have free.”

He gave you a stare with wide eyes once he encountered a red light.

“But honey, those are my children too.” His fake tone of worry was too funny to not burst out in laughter, to which he happily joined in.

“Shits and giggles aside, don’t,” he smiled. “Last time you did she told my dad and he still makes jokes about it.”

You acted smugly as you fetched for the aux cord and plugged it to your phone, scrolling down through your music app.

“Of course he does,” you snorted with a toothy grin. “I’m amazing. And even if we’re doing take-out I will beat the shit out of you if you don’t make lasagna before Friday.” You threatened again with a silly smile. “You know I can.”

He snorted too, his hand playfully squeezing your leg for a second.

“I know,” he mumbled absentmindedly, tracing patterns over your knee. “But we’re getting sushi tonight.”

The idea seemed nice enough, so in a silent agreement you settled on a playlist you knew he’d sing along to. Just as Wonder Girls started to play, he giggled, his hand tickling your knee —something as ticklish as confusing, really—.

“Cheeky.” He snickered, unable to not join in to your efforts into making the korean lyrics make sense, singing for a fun time, not a long one, specially when after Tell me finished, the next songs calmed down the upbeat vibe and soothed it sweetly, your boyfriend humming only when he concentrated on the road ahead.

He shoved you one of his hoodies that he had kept in the seats in the back, because he knew you’d show up with clothing that as beatiful as you looked with it, he just clicked his tongue and tutted at you when you tried to enter the restaurant after he parked, and sneakily locked the doors. You squinted your eyes at him.

“Put that on, missy.” He snickered, eyebrows up. “As funny as the idea may seem, cold as a concept isn’t psychological.”

You chuckled at his commentary, and quickly threw it on, a silly smile on your face when you realized that it smelled like him.

“Sure, Mr Charmer.” You shook your head sideways, smirking once he unlocked the car and you could open the door. “For the record, pretty boy, I’m just doing it cause you left money on the pocket.” You cackled and skipped inside the restaurant, with him chuckling just a bit behind you.

The restaurant was fairly empty, saving a couple of tables that were reserved for later and other customers that had barely started to eat.

You hid the twenty bucks bill you found in your phone case, and Minho pretended to forget about it when he saw you grin. You smiled at him gingerly, thinking where would it be a good place to put the it in where he could find it later.

He let you choose from the menu, trusting your taste and letting you pick the items for the both of you, doozing off slowly, distracting himself with the strange tipping device that the restaurant had on the counter top. Upon inspection, it was clearly a lucky cat figure, that when coins were placed on its hand, he’d just… eat them…?

“To go, yeah?” the young man at the counter asked with a tiny smile, wearing a small name tag that read “JEONGIN” in big letters.

You nodded, but noticed ‘Jeongin’ gave your really-interested-in-the-stupid-ass-tip-animal-robot company a look, and you stared at Minho too, scratching your cheek absentmindedly.

“Is he with you?” He asked nonchalantly, merely starting small talk.

You smiled. “Yeah. A girl needs a wallet from time to time.”

He snorted, nodding in agreement. “He’s… something.”

“Thanks. He’s rescue.”

You felt a hand slither into the pockets of your hoodie. Well. Technically his.

“Stop telling people that.” He huffed, laying his forehead on your shoulder.

Jeongin snickered at the two of you. “My boyfriend is a rescue too,” he winked. “This is his uniform, because he used mine by mistake and stained it with soja sauce.”

“Oh. So you’re not Jeongin, I guess?” You chuckled gently.

“I’m Hyunjin.” He corrected with a smile. After a bit, he handed you your order in a plastic bag. “It was nice to meet you two!”

You waved back with a sheepish smile as you two exited.

[♦️★ 🎯 ★♦️]

“WHAT?!” You screamed, the mic on your purple headset able to catch it flawlessly, as in response you started hearing laughs.

You stared at the screen, the music lowering as your character approached your house —or what used to be your house—.

“Y-yeah,” Seungmin’s voice chimed in, who tried to explain once more in between laughs, “Changbin added landscape mods o-or something,” he chuckled. “The storms can start fires.”

“B-HUH?” You frowned, trying to extinguish the fire that remained around. “Fuck that! What the fuck was Notch onto with this bullshit?”

Felix and Changbin still were unable to speak, as they continued to laugh loudly in the call. You went to Discord for a second, and muted them both. “You guys, shut up!”

They were muted, so you couldn’t possibly know if they had listened to you —most likely not—. Going back to Minecraft, you went in your house, and started looking around in your chest room if you had any wood to spare to repair the ceiling.

“Motherf- I gotta go chop wood?” You scoffed. “Brother.” You were starting to get pissed off, so you breathed in, fixing your glasses in position and your mind went back to the stream, and you started talking to the chat while getting the materials.

“Shit, I ran out of torches,” you cursed, going on your inventory to see if you had more. Oops. You didn’t. And you didn’t have much food either. Suddenly, zombie noises started to blast in your headset, several arrows hitting you.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you used your shield, trying to find your enemies. “Where is this bitch?”

Minho went to the kitchen, that was a door away from your streaming room, able to hear loud noises coming from inside. He raised his eyebrows, wondering what could be happening in the gameplay.

“MOTHERFUCKER?! I DON’T— FUCK THIS SHIT! IT’S DISGUSTING. HEY, IT’S DISGUSTING THAT- THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE. HE’S AN IDIOT. HOPE HE CHOKES ON LENTILS, FUCK!”

You stormed out of the room, encountering Minho barely a couple steps away from the door.

He blinked, puzzled. “I’m making lasagna…?”

You struggled to calm down, just knowing you didn’t want to lash out at him.

“Time-out?” He questioned, wondering if you wanted some time on your own.

You flinched when you finally realized he was in front of you, your shoulders lowering and your body physically relaxing as you sighed and shook your head sideways.

“A storm burned down part of my roof and then a creeper blew me up when I was trying to fix it.” You sighed. “And then Changbin stole all my materials.”

“Did you turn off stream?” He wondered soothingly, his hands cupping your face and lightly scratching the back of your head.

You shook your head again. “I just turned the camera and the mic off, but it’s still on.”

“And you want to keep playing?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, one of your hands traveling to his. “Thanks, Min.”

He entered the streaming room with you, his arms over your shoulders.

“Where is she though?” Changbin questioned. “She’s not answering.”

“Dude.” Felix let out in shock.

“Lix?” Seungmin questioned.

“Guys, look at her stream.”

Minho left a peck on your head and ruffled your hair.

“Text me if you need anything, yeah?”

You smiled. “Thanks, bunny.”

You put your headphones back on, moving the mouse to turn on the screens again.

…maybe the camera hadn’t exactly been turned off.

You stared at the stream, eyes wide open as the chat started going wild.

…oops.

[♦️★ 🎯 ★♦️]

~kats, who now wants to go play some minecraft.

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 1 year ago

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Standing a step behind you, watching you from afar, is already my biggest happiness.

Sorry for spamming I accidentally put the post in queue two times, this is the proofread and correct one the previous one is not :']

Price + Ghost*Reader

Price

Price doesn’t want to bind you to him. He’s nearly 40, plus the rank difference between you two, he’s a mature superior, no personal feelings should be involved in the workplace.

Not to say, he doesn’t sense even a tiny bit of romantic love from you, every time he tries to hide his affection towards you, he only sees respect for comrades in your eyes.

Even till the day you jump out and take a bullet for him as he gets knocked down accidentally, which ends up with the enemy dying, but you become lifeless in his arms, blood painting his palms and gear, he still believes you just view him as a teammate.

As he steps into your silent quarter and reads the words written in the journal, he slumps onto the bed, speechless as sorrow swallowing him that he needs to bite his lips until he tastes the bitter to stop him from crying.

“Personal feelings won’t be allowed, I can see Captain comply with this rule without exceptions.” “but it’s okay if it means I can stay beside him.” “It’s already a bliss that I can watch him from afar.”

He’s seasoned with gravel and pain, which ends up making a choice to free you from caging with him and hide his love, but unknown to him, you’re better at secreting yourself.

Ghost

He’s an expert at hiding and perceiving other’s feelings, not a single human —even his captain— is able to conceal the true thoughts running in their mind from him.

He knows he views you differently , not the family love like he owns for other 141 members, but the need to stay beside you forever, become old together if you both are pardoned from dying on the field at a young age.

The emotion plants a seed in his heart, sprouting as time flows, and when he realizes, the branches are already entangled with his heart.

Yet he chooses to lock those feelings inside the deepest part of him, he stares at you secretly with an amount of distance, always got your six and protects you, but never closer.

He’s afraid if standing too close to you, the sentiment will break through his mask and reveal it to you.

No one left behind, that’s his motto, yet he derogates it the moment he watches you shove the enemy badgering him off his body and over the railing, but he can’t catch your hands as he helplessly witnesses you tumble over inevitably.

You leave nothing, not even your body has been found, since the bomb exploded and perish you and the enemy together.

But when he flips through your journal in your room, he takes off his balaclava, letting it fall to the floor carelessly, as he discovers it does nothing to hide the truth from you.

“Something’s holding Ghost back, but I can wait, until he’s comfortable enough to take a step, even if it means years.” “I imagine we getting old together, but am I provided with such privilege?” “Maybe not, hence I’m already extremely satisfied to have a chance to watch him from afar.”

He assumes he’s excels at observing people, but what he’s unaware of is after he stares at you across the room and turns away eventually, your eyes land on him and never dart either.

a/n: thx for reading, have a nice day/night! :D

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pizzaapeteer · 11 months ago

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Green-eyed Monster - Blaise Zabini

Summary: Reader doesn't know how to control their feelings for their friend Blaise when he asks someone else to be his date. Warnings: Just arguing otherwise flustered and embarrassed reader. Find the request here 🤍

Also I'm incapable of writing something short, so have 1.6k. But enjoy this delivery! Big thanks to my pookie @mattyriddlesbitch for the blood patience they had with me on this, ly!! + ty to @finalgirllx for pic of Blaise smirking!

Tucked away in a quiet corner, it was easy to immerse yourself deep into your book, the blazing fire helping add to the cozy atmosphere. Filled finally with peace and comfort, the evening was well needed after the unusual pile of feelings suddenly mounted upon you.

It was the night of the infamous Slug Club Christmas party, held for Professor Slughorn's favourite and most impressionable students. You had listened to Malfoy complain all week about how stupid it was, and who would want to be invited by that bloody oaf. Though Malfoy’s usual whine would usually bother you - merely tickled your brain too focused on the distressing poignant feeling ongoing in your pit.

Your dear and so-called close friend Blaise Zabini was one of the few offered invitations, because of Slughorns' rather keen eye on making valuable connections with famous and well-connected students. Naturally, Blaise's interesting background on how his mother cultivated a fortune, and seven dead husbands, piqued Slughorn's curiosity. Blaise, who felt far too superior to hang out with an odd blunderer such as Slughorn, had only agreed to attend for the sake of scrutinising the other guests.

Blaise and you had bonded closely over his resilient patience - expressing a gentle kindness he had extended towards you till this day, in his patience and keen ear. He was intelligent among his years - holding more maturity than the bronze on your grandfather’s clock.

He always had your back - a protective giant helping to guide you through the jungle of extroverts, speaking up when you felt too timid or awkwardly stumbling over your words. It was a trait you cherished and were grateful for, as without it would have left you a lost lamb in the thick of wolves - defenseless against Mattheo and Draco's playful teasing.

The two of you were a team, paired closely for everything - from school projects, class partners to party games. So when he didn’t choose to invite you to the silly party, and instead picked in-your-opinion an overly flirty Hufflepuff as his date, the bitter jealous feeling was planted unknowingly stretching out its roots throughout your bloodstream.

It had spiked your tongue, soaking it with a bitter flavour, an unusual taste from your sweet personality. All week the feeling had rotted in your pit, altering your usual sense of self in a possessive and destructive demeanour, reflecting in your treatment towards Blaise.

The times where you weren't snapping at Blaise, you hid out in avoidance of the anxiety and overthinking, driving you loopy. The feeling lingered for the rest of the week, tightening, pulling on your heart - that maybe he was getting sick of you, needed a night off from you and your awkward shy tendencies.

Blaise emerges from the shadows into the open space, capturing your attention from the book you were nose deep in. Your eyes drape over his attire. He looks smart, clean and perfect as always. The feeling constricts wrapping an iron grip of vines around your heart, squeezing the muscle with an intense sense of anger, hurt, and longing. He didn’t owe you anything. He was perfectly entitled to ask a pretty - beautiful girl on a date. You swallow and look back at your book, pushing away your feelings of frustration and confusion.

His eyes flicker over to you nestled tightly in the corner, your failed attempt at being inconspicuous under the observant boy’s gaze nearly made him laugh. He’s almost glad that he asked someone else to the party, though a small part of him aches you won't be the one beside him.

Having faced your rejection before, the idea of your denial and dismissal again at his invitation would crush even someone confident as him. He valued your strong friendship too much and had spent months learning to accept that you just weren't interested.

Blaise, being as perceptive as he was, had figured easily that something was bothering you. The slight sour emotion that slithered amongst your tone hadn't gone unnoticed by Blaise, but had left him befuddled by the attitude he was unaware you could express. Feeling the strong desire to address it, he makes his way towards you impassively, hands tucked in the pockets of his finely tailored pants.

“Good book?” He stops in front of your chair, his lean, tall body looming over as he addresses you nonchalantly.

Nodding, you try to relax your face into one of feigned confidence. “Yeah.”

He studies your expression, observing you with a known trait he unashamedly does - regardless of the shy strain it pushes on someone. His lips lick in thought, and he sighs, dropping his curiosity, not wanting to start anything that might ruin his night. “I’m heading off now, going to pick up my date.”

“Yeah cool. Hope you have fun with your new best friend.” The vile bitterness of jealousy drenches your tongue once more, spoken louder than you had intended as you retreat your attention back to your novel.

His original plan of dropping it becomes long forgotten at the snarkiness huffed into the air, and he snatches the book out of your hand. An incredulous look, a sense of irritation flashes behind his dark eyes, replacing Blaise's usual relaxed look. “What’s up with you?”

His eyes remain tense, taking in your avoidance and cowardice when you mumble a quiet, “Nothing.”

He rolls his eyes, finally sick of your bullshit. "Something’s up and I'm not giving your book back till you tell me. So spill.”

A deep frown etches across your features, “It doesn't matter anymore, you don't have to pretend to care, Blaise.” The current heat swarming to your cheeks blurs between a mix of embarrassment at your behaviour and the anger sweltering beneath you at being demanded information from. You huff, unable to ask the dying question. “I don't know why you asked her when I'm right here.”

Blaise frowns, irritated, rising at your vague words. “What do you mean? It's a date. Why would you want me to ask you?”

“I mean I know that.” The anger rises, unable to hold your loose tongue. “But we do everything together - are you suddenly embarrassed of me? Am I too shy for you? Why didn't you want to ask me!?”

“Wait - you're seriously waiting now to tell me this? After you already rejected me and I’m about to pick up my date?” Blaise’s eyes narrow with a distinguished, hardened look you’ve never been caught on the end of before. He recalls the moment he realized you weren’t into him, how easily you hadn’t bothered him a second look in your decline dismissal at his attempted confession. His composure struggles to remain calm at the audacity of your query.

The heat of his intense glare quickens the pace of your heart, simmering down the childish attitude in your new confusion. You scrunch your brows. “What do you mean? What rejection?”

His rapid breath shallows as he studies your expression, eyes analyzing your face’s every movement. He takes in your genuine puzzlement and his equanimity weakens, sighing. “Yeah, I tried telling you how I felt and you kind of dismissed me. I just assumed you weren’t interested.”

His words don’t fully resonate in you for a moment, till your eyes widen. “Wait- that was you trying to confess?! I thought you were just being friendly like you normally are.”

Blaise gets a little sheepish, realising his own confession had gone over your sweet little head. He rubs the back of his head, a wave of bashfulness hitting him. “Uh yes, I guess it was.”

He watches how you take in his words, wrapping your head around them, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “Didn’t realize you acting jealous would be the trigger to prompt your own feelings.” He has to admit, it’s an odd but arousing sight to see his shy, awkward best friend so alive with so much energy. He raises a brow and quirks a smile. “You're adorable when you're jealous.”

Adorable? Biting your cheek nervously, the confidence and bitter interior crumble under the sweetness of Blaise's compliment. Wait, did he say jealous?! To cover your flustered reaction, realising how right he is, you struggle to find the right words to explain your thoughts, ultimately stumbling over them. “What-t I'm not- I just omg- we do everything together and I thought - ah.” You stop talking, covering your face with your hands in total humiliation.

Blaise watches with pure amusement and affection, finding you utterly adorable as you fumble to contain your embarrassment. He pulls your hands away, replacing them with his, watching with delight as your eyes grow like saucers by the intimate action. He stares his eyes away, fighting himself not to laugh at your cuteness, not wanting to fluster you anymore. “You seriously have the worst timing for confessions.” His lips curve into a sweet smile. “If I'd known you liked me all this time, I would have asked you.”

The chained coil of jealousy unravels in his honesty, and finally a smile brims your face warm with abashment. “I’m sorry. I should have just talked to you.”

He nods, “That you should have. You know you can talk to me about anything. But I forgive you like I said you’re pretty cute when you’re snarky.” His eyes return to their usual warmness and with it returns the cozy ambiance of the night. He rubs your cheek and tilts your chin up, stopping your second attempt to cover yourself back up in another round of humility.

“Don’t hide, otherwise I can’t do this.” He leans closer, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss he’s been dreaming about for months. It's soft and shy like you are, but he doesn’t mind. He finds it endearing and sweet that he can guide you as he always does and always will. He’ll always be there for you, even if it means occasionally forcing you to become a flustering mess to reveal your true feelings.

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ blaise masterlist. ⤷ divider. All work is my own and is not to be copied, claimed or stolen. ©️pizzaapeteer 2024.

#Blaise Zabini #Blaise Zabini fluff #Blaise Zabini imagine #Blaise Zabini x reader #pizza's 1k #pizza's milestone celebration!#pizza's deliveries!#Slytherin boys

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moonlight-tmd · 2 months ago

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Imagine this- Bee and Longarm have been dating since boot camp and Bee called him everyday to chat while he's away for work up until he goes missing for 50-something years.

In the time he is on earth he talks about Longarm and praises him as the good boyfriend he is and how much he misses him and can't wait to talk with him again. He is undoubtedly in love with the mech and has a great relationship, as far as Bee's stories go.

Then Elite Guard comes to earth along with Longarm and the first thing Longarm does.... is to dump Bee.

Like, not even a proper hello or anything. The moment those two are left somewhat alone Longarm pipes up with something along the lines "Sorry, this wouldn't work. Have a good day." and just leaves Bee where he is to join the others on Steelhaven.

The next day loud sad music can be heard all thorough the base, Op goes to investigate and it leads him to Bee's room. He goes in with intention to scold the scout but finds him flat on the ground in the mess of blankets, he doesn't move so Optimus picks him up and- ooh primus, he's a crying mess.

He promptly lays him back where he found him, turns down the volume to appropriate level and leaves. He asks about what the heck is up with him and Bulkhead chimes in with "Longarm dumped him."

Everyone's so fuckin confused like, didn't Bee say he and Long had a happy relationship and missed each other so much? Bee was nearly freaking out when he first saw Longarm on earth, it didn't make sense. Obviously, Longarm is no friend of Bulkhead anymore- more so of Bee. Or Team Prime.

So, Bee is crying in his room for days, he can't even go one conversation without something reminding him of Long and making him cry again, he is utterly heartbroken. It really shows just how much he cared for the mech.

At one point, Blitzwing catches him at some secluded location. At first he was like "Oh nice, free kill" but became confused once Bee didn't react a single bit at him announcing his presence. He decided to investigate the strangeness of the mini and noticed the tears. Bee, upon being prodded at and insisted he'd tell what happened just dumps his spark out on him saying what happened and how dear Longarm was to him and promptly cries again.

Now you'd think he doesn't give a shit but alas- once Bee is finished he escalates and proudly declares that piece of scrap is in fact a piece of scrap and doesn't deserve Bee. He then proceeds to yoink Bee, fly him high up in the air on a stargazing flight then lands them on the tallest skyscraper to have an impromptu dinner date. (don't ask him where he got the table cloth or snacks, he just has 'em)

So, after x amount of time or something, Longarm comes back and tries to rekindle their romance for whatever reason, just because. Bee just denies him, saying he should've thought about it before heartlessly dumping him after they reunited, saying he got a new sparkmate to take care of him.

Now imagine his surprise when he learns that he's been replaced not only by another Decepticon, but Blitzwing in particular. And he purposely does lovey dovey things with Bee, right in front of him.

Blitz obviously taunts him across the room with looks as he does everything Long did with Bee back in the day right in front of his optics. And Bee is reciprocating like he knows Long is watching them. And nobody is doing anything about it since apparently Blitzwing came clean about Decepticon business and switched sides while the superiors were away just so he can stick it to Shockwave for dumping Bumblebee!

This is horrible! This never should've happened! Not like he's jealous or anything just- Blitzwing betrayed his people by doing this and it is definitely not Shock's bitterness of not having what he wants, no sir!

#maccadam #tfa #shockbee #blitzbee

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nightunite · 8 months ago

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In your baron konig au, do you ever see reader noticing his language insecurity and trying to learn his native tongue from his other workers?

Thank you so much for this ask, it gives me a chance to write fluff! It's definitely one of the ways I see them getting closer, because it shows her not just wanting to understand him, but those around her. Most of Konig's staff are from home, either coming over originally with him or when he makes one of his few trips back home.

Fair warning, this is going to contain some Google translate as well as future pieces most likely, native speakers please correct me on what I get wrong!

“Oh, good morning, my lord!” She bends slightly at the waist, a light bow to Konig as she met him where the staircase joined to the upper left wing of the barony. Standing upright at his nod of acknowledgement, her head turns as he swiftly strode down the hall and took in his frazzled state. In one arm he clasped several stacks of documents to his chest, paper developing light creases where his large fingers exerted too much pressure even through the thick paper. In the other he awkwardly gripped some quills, an inkpot, and the stamp bearing his familial crest. Having to go in the same direction, she saw as he almost dropped a quill then bent it with the force of him stopping it falling to the ground. It beat the alternative of him having to stoop all the way to the ground to recover it, she supposes. “Um, my lord?” She calls to him. His feet came to a stop, head turning slightly, eyes as cool as the outside air locking on her, a faint blue like ice water making her breath hitch at how it locks onto her. “May I be of assistance in carrying something for you?” After a few moments of silent staring she almost took back the suggestion out of embarrassment, a massive man of his stature surely does not need help from a maid- “Federn.” She blinks, unsure if she heard correctly. He clears his throat before repeating himself. “Carry quills. And ink.” He held out his hand and she quickly makes up the distance between them (curse his long strides), taking the objects in her hands, fighting the urge to shiver when their fingers brush. Just like the previous times, his hands were so warm and firm.

They walk in silence down the halls, stopping at the front of the library, intricately carved oak doors barring entry. As he turns the handle she swallows, mind flashing back for a moment to her last time in the library in the duchy. With any luck, the memory would continue to fade the longer she worked here, each time she cleaned the room wiping away the bitterness with the dust and incense ash. Though, she thinks, I can’t forget everything that occurred in that place. Just a fortnight prior it had been confirmed that yes, she was indeed carrying a Duke’s child, not that he would ever know. Her saving grace had been that she was not yet showing, the reduction of stress and ability to hold down food courtesy of Annika helping her regain some of the lost weight, no longer wan and sunken inwards. She hadn’t anticipated telling the head maid of her condition, at least not yet, but she hadn’t a choice when she was caught leaning against a wall fighting off a dizzy spell at the end of the day. Good fortune then that much like her employer, her superior was of a better cut, keeping the news tucked to her chest with little more than a chastisement of letting her know of any changes to her condition and an order to have a quick, light meal of gently seasoned soup from the cooks before heading to bed.

She places the writing set down on the table he had chosen to work at before commencing her own tasks of dusting the books and wiping down the wooden furniture, eyes briefly glancing at the papers as he set about placing the stacks in some order that made sense to him. They were written in that foreign language she saw scrawled across the spines of the novels, most of the letters making sense to her but combined in a way that was confusing, lengthy words packed with consonants and vowels, dots pocked sparingly in some places. She wishes she could read them, understand the different stories that came with the Baron from his homeland.

As she works her way along the shelves, she can’t help but take a few peeks at him, immersed in his tasks while hunched over his work in a way that makes her back ache. The air is mostly silent apart from the scratch of a quill and the gentle squeaking of a damp cloth. Shortly after though, a faint humming permeates the study, a tune she had grown familiar with in the month since her arrival. Konig was fond of this tune, singing the melody like he had no clue he was doing it, part of his routine when tackling paperwork. He had told her the name of the tune, accent making quick work of it, though she struggled to repeat it to herself.

Eye Popeeyah, she vaguely recalled, certain it was something like that. Gently wetting a spot on a plush chair, she waits for the tea stain to lift herself as she chances another look at the baron. He never notices when her eyes stray from the upholstery and she wonders if he even feels her eyes on him. He’s a shy man, she’s come to learn, content to keep himself tucked away from others. Perhaps he feels people’s gaze on him even when there is no one to stare, and so he doesn’t register her. Perhaps she is so beneath him that he doesn’t register her presence at all. Certainly not in the same manner as Duke MacTavish, she chews the inside of her cheek as she wrings out the washcloth and wipes the stain away, hands working at the spot even when gone as she unknowingly rests her eyes on him.

No, the Baron is not that kind of man. “Hirsch?” She jumps, jolted from her thoughts, Konig staring seemingly down to the core of her. Her blood pools in her cheeks and she feels her face become hot. She could die of embarrassment at being caught staring, much less at her employer! She can’t even tell what his expression is with his shroud in place, leaving her further off-kilter. “Apologies, my lord! My thoughts ran from me, I’ll get back to work now.” With a ducked head she averts her eyes from both Konig and the large damp patch her mindless scrubbing caused the poor chair. Unfortunately, the next shelf to clean is the one directly behind him, so she grabs her duster and rags and makes her way over. He hunches in further, trying to scoot in to give her room but ultimately there is nowhere for him to go, shoulders pulled up to his ears to make himself smaller. His grip on his quill is tight, and the papers crinkle under his free hand as he writes, more akin to forcing the ink in than letting the quill do the work, and the humming has stopped, replaced with heavy silence only interspersed with more scratching and the occasional grumble. She feels guilt over it, how her presence in his home forces him into these uncomfortable positions. It’s doubtful he wore the hood even at home before she came, and now here he is forced to curl up to avoid them touching.

Even still, as she makes her way along the shelves, the heat radiating off him permeates her dress, a welcome sensation compared to the bitter winter outside, the frost outside sharp enough to stop the maids from cleaning the windows lest the water freeze on the panes. Not that he or Annika would let any of them go cold, providing them extra bedding and thicker clothes as the cold crept along the floorboards. The rumors from other maids had been correct, that while the Baron might come across as strange and off-putting to some, he took good care of those who worked for him. It makes the guilt inside her grow.

This man has been so kind to her already, and here she is making him feel like an outsider. Forcing him to repeat himself in stilted English for her sake because it’s the only language she knows. He has always held himself in a stern and awkward manner whenever they cross paths, but she sees his discomfort grow when trying to string together conversation with the few visitors to the barony. She wishes she could speak freely with him and ease that stress a little, make him and the other maids not view her as something to be wary of. Just the other day she had come across two of the maids giggling and speaking in hushed whispers, the conversation so quick she couldn’t make out much more than the occasional exclamations and snickers. Once they realized she was there though, they had startled in much the same way as the baron did, standing stiff with wide eyes before carrying on with their tasks. She tried to reassure herself they hadn’t been gossiping about her, there was always a rumor of some drama occurring in town, but it was hard. It reminded her that she had no one she was close to here, no one to confide in about anything she saw that would set tongues wagging and eyes gawking. “What language is this?” She was behind him again, this time gently removing the dust from the tops of the books that hadn’t seen much attention. Konig jumps, spooked by the sudden voice behind him, chair making a sound of protest as his upper back gently bumps into hers. Taking a moment to calm himself, he sets aside the letter with a harsh line of ink over the surface and frowns down at how it continued onto the table. “Was?” He asks, turning to look over his shoulder. She keeps her face turned to the bookshelf, hands fiddling with her rag once more. “The language you all speak. It’s the one from your homeland, yes?” An answering grunt is all she receives. “I wanted to know which one it was. There are so many books here in the library not in English, and I would like to read them once my work is finished. And-and I would like to be able to speak with the other maids, to greet them as they greet one another, or not require you to have to repeat yourself when giving instruction. I don’t want to impose on them or on you, I’ve seen the frustration with having to translate conversations when out in town.” She can’t help herself, having turned around and now locked in a staring match with him, feeling like a mouse surveilled by a wolf, the words tumbling free of her mouth. Her ears feel like they’re burning, hands, twisting the rag around her fingers. “I would ask Felix or Annika, but they’ve so many responsibilities and I would hate to take up their free time. I would use the novels themselves, but I don’t know all of the letters, they look similar but then there are these dots-“ “Umlaut.” He cuts her off, eyes giving a slow blink. “What is it?” “The dots. They are called umlaut.” He explains. “Umlaut.” She tries testing the word in her mouth. When he nods, she can’t help her smile, pleased at getting it right. “Off days?” He asks in his typical manner, and she works to figure out what he’s asking. “Annika has me scheduled off on Wednesdays and Thursdays, my lord.” He nods again, mulling something over. “Come to my office then. I will teach you.” She hears the drag on the “You’re so busy though my lord, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work-“ A gloved hand gently reaches up, thumb and middle finger pressing lightly on her cheeks to stop her from rambling a second time. “Wednesday and Thursday” He repeats, accent showing on the 'and', “and the days you clean the office.”

He releases her when she nods, finishing his final document and reorganizing them while she blinks. She would take great care to follow his lessons, she just hopes he will be patient with her. As she prepares to start on the final task of restocking the fireplace and taking cups to the kitchen, she pauses. “My lord?” He stops stacking papers, watching her from the side. “Thank you for this. If I may though, could you teach me one phrase before you go?” She fights the urge to beam when he taps the seat in front of him. (The next morning, she gives in to the urge when she greets the other early morning maids at breakfast with a nervous and stilted “Guten Morgen, wie geht’s?” and is met with excitement and smiles.) Translations: Federn - Quill Hirscht - Deer Guten Morgen, wie geht's - good morning, how are you

#baron konig au

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