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dmc-tings · 4 years ago

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The Lord's with an S/O (who just found out about their powers)

Alcina Dimitrescu

Noice 👌🏾

But what did you do for this woman to spare you?

She's like... the biggest man hater anywhere

So... if your a guy, you are lucky boi (or if you identify as a guy)

Or perhaps your a lucky lady?

I feel like she won't discriminate if she feels like your important to her

But for whatever reason she CHOSE YOU

So take that as a win

Sure, she's a vampire and has to eat people

Which was something you didn't know

But she doesn't eat in front of you

Even lying to the point of telling you she's drinking wine

You get curious, of course

So when she leaves to "take care of business", you look onto her glass or cup

You see red

"Ok... but it dont smell like wine..."

You take a sip, only to spit it out right away

Retching with disgust, you tasted blood

Your not an idiot, at least not fully anyways

Alcina rushed back, hearing you gag, thinking one of her daughters were bothering you

Only to see the sight in front of her

You looked at her in fear

Which hurt the tall woman's non beating (?) heart

You backed into a corner, thinking the worst

Looking for a makeshift weapon, you grabbed a spoon

To which made the Lady shake her head

"Love, you know I wouldn't-"

"Your a damned liar!!" You barked weakly, "W-what the fuck are you!?"

She sat calmly in the chair in front of you, gesturing for you to take a seat as well

You hesitated, but did comply, not letting go of your weapon (the spoon)

She huffed sadly, normally this behavior would have sent her into a rageful fit

But this is YOU we're talking about

Her little muse, the only mortal that makes her truly happy

"My Love, please calm down."

When you showed no sign of relaxing, Alcina took her glass in her hand, swirling the blood

Then takes a small sip, and lighting a cigarette

She offers you one

You cringe, and with that she pulls back again

After taking a puff, she begins to explain

Mother Miranda, the other Lord's, the creation of her daughter's, the Village, and everything else, prior to your showing up

After she finishes, you lower your loyal spoon

Drinking in all of the information

You looked up at her

"So that's why your so keen in keeping the girls away from me..."

The large woman nodded, looking at you

You bit your lip, but let go of your spoon, placing it back into the table

Alcina looked at you, watching you relax

You nodded a calm understanding

"Well seeing as I know what's going on now... is Mother Miranda going to-"

The Lady Dimitrescu, shook her head

"She has allowed for me to keep you. As long as you only stay in the castle... seeing as that the village is too dangerous. And I don't want you mixed up with the rif-raf."

You smiled and sat in her lap, (cause you can do that) and planted a kiss on her cold cheek

She let out a pleased humm, and returned the kiss

"Just... next time, if you choose a weapon, Love, make sure it has a SHARP end."

Salvatore Moreau

You had known Moreau since before Mother Miranda made an impact on his life

You saw less and less of your significant other

He would disappear and cut your alone time short, whenever the woman called

You were saddened when he finally told you that you couldn't see him anymore

But that's didn't stop him from speaking to you through whatever door, that separated you both

He didn't keep you locked up, but he would lock whatever door was between you

So you couldn't see the monstrous transformation, causing him pain

All you knew is that his voice was becoming more and more disgruntled

As said, you knew Salvatore before this

He was a handsome and intelligent man (despite what's written in Miranda's notes)

And to hear your man become... so in thralled by this other woman, made you suspicious

One day, you both were speaking, with a door between you, as usual

Unbeknownst to Salvatore, you were picking the lock

Eagar to see him

He never noticed the change in your tone, when you got it unlocked, nor the click of the lock

Shoving the door open, and pushing Salvatore back

The male let out a yelp, trying to rush in to the nearby darkness

You stepped through the threshold, eyes blazing and searching

You scanned the room and finally landed on a heap of a shivering... beast?

"Moreau? Is... is that you?" You crept closer, and gently put a hand on his back

"D-dont look at m-me...." he shivered, trying to hide himself

Horrified, you took his face on your hands

"I-is this... the work o-of-"

He cut you off, "Do-dont. Mother loves me... she does... I know she does..."

You felt tears pour down your face

You couldn't bring yourself to speak

That vile woman, had destroyed your dear Moreau

The man you knew and loved was beaten and broken into this sobing heap before you

He looked at you, and reached up to wipe your tears

"Oh... please don't cry... thi-this is her will..."

You shook your head, "what kind of will is this, Salvatore? To turn you-"

He pulled away from you, snarling, "I KNEW YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND!!! Mother loves me, and i-"

You slapped him, your tears stopping, "What kind of man have you become?!"

Disgusted, not with his appearance, but his sniveling attitude

You left

But... not unaffected by what happened to the man you cared about

You left... everything behind, the Village, your family...

Salvatore Moreau never left your thoughts and you never left his

It was a bittersweet life, but you were glad to leave what was happening behind

Angie and Donna Beneviento

These two kept you in their estate

Though Donna hid Angie from you, worried that you wouldn't understand the need for her doll

She also kept the pollen from her plants away from you

You were the first person Donna could talk to, without her illness bothering her

No need for Angie!? And this person don't care!?

Fucking Jackpot!!!

Though Angie does get a bit upset that she don't get to see you

That's about to change

You and Donna where sitting in the backroom, overlooking the waterfall

Enjoying an afternoon tea

"Dear? How are you feeling today?"

Donna looked at you, taking your hand in her's giving you a smile

"I am well." She reassured you, giving your hand a squeeze

Then you sneezed, surprised cause your allergies hadn't started up, due to the lack of pollen

And the abundance of snow and cold

Donna gasped, looking over her shoulder

"Angie, n-"

Angie revealed herself, giggling and plopping herself in your lap

You froze, "A-a doll? Donna... is this a gift?"

You never really liked or disliked dolls

Angie gave another giggle, "No, stupid! I'm Angie. Donna's most favorite doll. And a friend."

Your eyes widened at the living doll, "Uh... im-"

"I know who you are!!" She floated infront of you now

"And we like you!"

Donna was quiet, not surprisingly, but you reached out for her

She gently took your hand in her's

"Donna. Tell me whats going on. Please."

Donna nodded, quietly starting to explain.

The gifts from Mother Miranda, the plants, the pollen and finally Angie

You looked at the floating doll, who was nodding her head along, with Donna's words

Then finally, you pulled Donna closer to your side

"You don't ever have to hide things from me. I never had a problem with the other ways that you cope, Donna."

Your encouraging words sent the woman into tears of joy

She buried her face in your chest

You smiled at Angie, who patted you on the forehead

Karl Heisenberg

You sat in the smaller, (safer) part of his factory

It was a part he had built to keep you safe

From what?

You had asked Karl several times, on different occasions, what was he building

"Its none of your concern." He waved a hand dismissively, "Whats for dinner?"

You always had huffed out whatever meal you made for the pair of you

Karl was always one of three places: meeting his "family", in the factory, or right next to you

The "family" was always thrown into air quotes

You knew he disliked his "family"

He announced his leaving out again, not telling you where

But leaving nonetheless, as usual you waved him off

But today was different, you WERE going to see what the hell was in that factory

Not paying attention to the warnings he gave you, you made your way down

Once at an elevator, you pressed the button

It came up and you were met with a large, large portly man

"Why if it isn't Heisenberg's little kitten."

Shocked you jumped back a bit, but then inched your way inside

"Its alright. I mean you no harm. Come, come."

You stood next to him, "Uh... who are you?"

"You may call me The Duke." He hummed, "But what are you doing here? Don't you know it's dangerous to play here?"

You lifted your chin, "I can handle myself. Thank you."

The Duke gave a small laugh, as you pulled the switch, but didn't speak again

Hitting the bottom floor, you disembarked, waving goodbye

You noticed a door and pushed through

Only to be met with a metal drill nearly splitting your face in two

With a strangled yelp, you lept backwards

"HOLY SHIT!!! WHAT THE HELL-"

"Who's in my damned- KITTEN!?"

You heard Heisenberg's voice above you and looked around frantic

"Karl! What-"

You didn't get to finish, the same monster came at you again

Dodging to the side, only barely missing getting drilled

Running in to the labyrinth, you were soon cornered

You shook with fear, hearing more monsters come after you

Closing your eyes, waiting for the blows to take you to the Great beyond

Your waiting was cut shirt hearing a series of clang's

You moved your hands and opened your eyes

Seeing Karl, standing in front of you shoving all the monsters back...

But he wasn't touching them....

"What... how-"

"Dont just sit on your ass, get up!" He barked, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind him

Once back in the safe zone, you slapped him, breathing heavily

He took it, it was a well deserved slap

"E-explain yourself!"

He sat heavily down, telling you everything.

The reason for the factory, the monsters in it, his powers, Miranda's plan, even pouring out his emotions about it all

You finally understood and took his hands in yours, kneeling down infront of him

"You idiot. All you had to do was talk to me. Not be a "big tough guy" about it."

You kissed his rough hands

And he chuckled at you

"Always understanding. Thanks Kitten."

#lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #Salvatore Moreau x reader #moreau #salvatore moreau #angie beneviento #angie and donna #donna beneviento #angie and donna beneviento x reader #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader

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fallintitan · 2 years ago

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whiskey chapter uhhhhh 36

His first mission with the IMC goes horribly. He can’t say he’s all that surprised, given his track record so far in life. It’s still unknown to him and everyone else how he made it through basic training. But he did, and here he is--should he feel some sort of excitement, here? His first injury out on the field. Taube’s first screw-up of many, he supposes.

His dominant arm is cradled against his chest and he can feel blood oozing onto the fabric of his gear from the bullet wound. He can also feel the sharp, grinding pain of broken bone-ends grinding against each other.

The feeling of eyes digging into him keeps him decidedly glaring into the floor. He refuses to meet anyone’s eyes, not even the medic’s as he’s tinkered with. Another IMC grunt stands guard at the door. While it feels like their gaze is more empathic and concerned, he resolutely ignores them as well. He doesn’t need to be pitied. If anything, he needs to be taught a lesson.

“Is he gonna be okay?” the guard at the door asks. Of course they’d be “concerned” about his well-being. If he were to be out of the field for too long, it would be another body out of work that could be instead helping the IMC with its work.

And, really, that’s all he’s good for at this point.

“He’s fine,” the doctor says bluntly, digging a piece of shrapnel out of Taube’s bicep and making him wince. “He’ll recover. This is far from the more serious injuries I’ve dealt with, and it’s also one of the dumber ones.”

He feels his face heat under the passive assault. He can tangibly feel his brows furrowing together further as he glares harder at the floor.

“It was a mistake,” the guard counters. “Everyone makes mistakes, doc.”

“Not everyone gets injured by their shitty mistakes, soldier.” Out of the corner of his eye, Taube sees the medic look directly at the guard and dare him to speak further.

“I mean, I’m sure I have at the very least.” He swears he hears a hint of teasing in the words. “Heaven knows you’ve had to stitch me back together from stupider things.”

“Which is precisely why it needs to be wrung out of a person.” He feels a harsh jolt on his shoulder, grabbing his attention. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah.” His eyes fall to the side. “It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t lie to my face. I’m not an idiot.” The medic’s voice is harsh again. “With the way you’re acting, I’ll be expecting another visit very soon.” He pushes the little stool he’s stooped over back and away from Taube, rising to his feet. “Both of you. Get out. Don’t come back.”

Meekly, he takes the medic’s words to heart. He rises silently, arm now wrapped in gauze and medical tape and stuck at a crooked angle, approaching the door. He desperately hopes the guard won’t speak to him on his way back to his bunk.

“Don’t take anything that guy said too seriously,” the guard says as soon as the door is shut behind them. Taube bites down a groan and keeps walking. Unfortunately, the guard is able to keep up with him. “Everyone here is a hardass. They take it competitively, it feels like.”

Taube doesn’t respond, focusing on his footsteps as they make their way through the halls.

“You’re new, right?” The guard continues to chitter. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. ‘Course, that doesn’t really say much in terms of things. This place would hire damn near anyone if it meant they’d do what they asked.”

Surprise jolts through him. Why is this guy so openly speaking against the corporation that not-so-subtly made people that did so disappear without notice? “You’re stupid for saying that,” he mutters over his shoulder.

“This whole place is stupid,” the guard chuckles. “The higher-ups get a little too pissy when someone doesn’t kiss their boots the right way.” The guard bumps Taube’s shoulders with his own. “Plus, it’s only frowned upon if you get caught doing it.”

“It’s still stupid.”

“And why is that?”

“I mean, this place took us in, gave us jobs and shelter and all that. Why trash it?”

“‘Why trash it?’” the other echoes, seemingly stunned. “Have you heard of the shit this corporation does to get what it wants? War crimes upon war crimes, stacked on top of even more war crimes. The only reason people don’t speak out about it is because another war crime will be committed to keep them silent.”

“You really feel that way?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice.”

“So, why stay?”

“Taube, you think they’ll let me go if I defect? You think they’re just gonna let someone rumored to talk about the shitty side of things with his cohorts get away out into the world to keep jabbering?”

A pause. “No, not really.”

“That’s why I’m still here.” He hears the other man heave a sigh that sounds entirely too weary for someone his age. The guard is suddenly right next to him, crowding into his space respectively, but still close. “Always thought about it, though. Getting the hell out of here would be paradise.”

“Even as a whistleblower?”

“Even as a whistleblower. Not gonna waste my freedom knowing there’s awful things going on that I could do something about. They wouldn't be able to keep me shut down, even if the public begged me to shut up.”

Finally, he meets the man’s eyes. “That’s very noble. Stupid as hell, but noble.”

“It’s not about being noble,” the guard waves a hand dismissively. “It’s about doing the right thing.”

“Of course.” They pause outside Taube’s bunk, awkwardly hanging before the door. “Well, this is my stop.” Before he turns away, he adds, “Thank you for the company. You didn’t have to. But it was nice.”

“Nobody has to do anything if they really don’t want to. Just might end up dead with certain things.” The guard winks at him, then holds out a hand. “MacAllan. James MacAllan.”

Awkwardly, Taube reaches out with his left hand. “Robert Taube.”

“Nice to meet you. You’ll stay low about my ranting, will you? Just made a good friend, wouldn’t want him to get lonely without me being there because the officials caught wind.” A smile splits his face, honest and genuine.

“What ranting?” Taube smirks back at him. “All I heard was us talking about the glory of this place.”

MacAllan snorts and claps a hand on Taube’s good shoulder.”Good man.”

#whiskey kitty

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sylverstorms · 4 years ago

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Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Your quiet days in castle Dimitrescu met their end the moment Cassandra took an interest in you.

You should have known. Perhaps you did know and just didn’t want to admit it.

The woman –vampire, mutant, what even are they— is a bipolar sadist.

One night she may be walking down the halls sending you a sexy wink under her hood as she passes you by, the next she could show up out of nowhere and cut you ‘hello’ with her sickle, scoop up the blood with her thumb to taste, then disappear again. The evening after that, she may not even give a damn about you, may not spare you a single fleeting glance, like even the notion you could be worth her time is laughable.

And it is, isn’t it.

Humans are nothing to them. Your significance is below that of a pet. You may as well be livestock. It doesn’t matter, though, so long as you continue to breathe and remain intact. They’re the two essential factors to escaping. All else is secondary.

It doesn’t matter how Cassandra views you.

You don’t even like her.

What is there to even be drawn to? She’s covered in blood more often than not. The scent of iron usually drowns out her perfume. She’s capricious and cruel and the living personification of an unsheathed knife. You prefer your routes safer. Playful, creative pretty girls that are good for you and most importantly, sane.

Whatever weird tricks your brain and hormones are playing where she stars –you hate it, what is wrong with you— they’re just delusions, you reason, born from her questionable flirting and your time in captivity. It’s just a really bothersome case of Stockholm Syndrome you’re developing. And it has to stop.

Another week passes. You don’t see her.

You are on another night shift when you hear the telltale buzzing of insects down the corridor. Hervoice reaches your ear afterwards;

“Ugh, Bela, you never complain about anything. It’s so annoying.” Two pairs of heels steadily tap towards you.

“I leave it to you and Dani to cover for me, since you complain about everything.” The quieter sister drawls. You can easily picture her roll her eyes as she says it.

“You know, you really should sound more thankful I came with you in this unearthly cold.”

“I gave you the option not to—”

“Just to have you rummage through that bookshop for what was definitely the most boring twenty minutes of my life.” Cassandra continues.

From the fleeting glance you steal at them, the entirety of her attention is on Bela. You don’t think she’ll notice you as you continue polishing the corridor’s decorations. It’s just another one of these nights where you don’t exist and you’re deeply glad for it. Not just for yourself, but also the other maids.

“I thought I was going to die of frostbite.” she growls, shaking the elder sister’s arm.

“Technically, you can’t.” Bela shakes hers back.

It would be… cute, if they were any normal family. But you are quick to remind yourself of what they really are. Devils in human form. Monsters that took you from your home and trapped you here, to clean after their mess, with the threat of death looming over your head every second.

Their steps pass you by. You can almost breathe normally again, when—

Cassandra stops.

“Not even going to tell me hello?” The hurt in her voice can’t be genuine, you tell yourself as you turn around to face her. She’s closer than you thought, enough for you to be able to make out the tiny melting snowflakes caught in her long lashes.

“Um—hello.” you say, awkwardly.

“Cassandra.” Bela lets out a soft sigh.

“Bye, Bela.” The brunette pointedly speaks over her shoulder.

And to your horror… “Just keep in mind what mother said about the maids.” the eldest sister leaves you alone with her.

Each further step until the blonde disappears from view fills you with dread. Cassandra has that spark in her eye that you’ve learned to not associate with anything good. She’s completely still until she’s sure the two of you won’t be overheard or interrupted.

Then, she moves.

Her hands all too easily shove you against the wall. It’s more startling than painful, you realize, when your back doesn’t protest much at the collision.

Cassandra maintains eye contact with you as she tugs at the fingers of her gloves. You cannot fathom why it looks that sexy, the way she pulls them off, whether it is intentional or not.

“Plaything.” she says. Another new nickname for you. Not that you ever expected her to care to know your name. “I’m terribly cold.” she doesn’t seem to be lying, though the soft pout that curves her mouth is surely for effect.

It’s a test and your wellbeing depends on it.

Only, you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. Ruling your nerves under control, you decide to start slow. “Shall I light the fireplace in your room, my lady?”

“Maybe I want something more… immediate.” she replies, raising her hand to your neck.

The second her freezing skin touches your flesh, you cannot help but flinch. It feels like a slightly softer block of ice. Cassandra’s eyes creak at the corners. Of course, the sadist is enjoying your torment. Slowly, her fingers move under the collar of your black button-up shirt, which only makes it worse. The cold spreads, a peculiar tingle at your stomach with it.

“Well?” she asks. You get the memo that just sitting back and letting her have her way isn’t going to work, this time. You call upon all the willpower you possess and act.

Carefully, your hands rise to meet her own. You aren’t looking at her in the eyes –you don’t think you could— as your fingers wrap around hers and bring them in front of you, close to your body, warmed from hours of work. Instead, your gaze locks on the golden jewel decorating the chocker at her throat, before falling down, to your point of contact.

It is not the first time you see her hands without gloves on, but it only now hits you just how dainty they look. Her nails, filed round, are dyed a darker shade of crimson, stark against the white of her skin. There isn’t a single blemish or uneven spot you can feel on her palm. It is a princess’ hand you seem to be holding, not a killer’s.

But appearances can be deceiving.

The very corner of Cassandra’s lip curls up, amused or pleased or both. She then reaches forward, at the lowest clasped button of your shirt… and frees it open. You’re sure you aren’t breathing. Two more buttons are released. Her fingers, at least now considerably warmer, splay against your stomach. Something inside you quivers like a flickering candlefire.

You don’t want her touch.

But a traitorous, weak part of you has already decided that it does.

“You work out?” it is merely a whisper between you. She presses a little closer, entirely unashamed to be feeling the contours of your middle up while you’re burning with embarrassment.

“…probably the days of working in the fields.” you say, voice low because it cannot be trusted any higher. She’s doing a little thing with her thumb over your skin that you desperately want to deny turns you on.

Thanks to her you’re now freezing and burning at the same time.

Cassandra just stays like that for a few more seconds.

“Draw me a hot bath.” she eventually orders and extracts herself from you as if she’s not remotely happy with her own decision.

You don’t really know how she likes her bath and she doesn’t tell you.

All you can do as you test the water on your hand is pray. Your mind isn’t really working right after the touching at the hallway, but your survival instincts are strong still. Strong enough to remind you that Cassandra likes to be treated like royalty above all, so bubbles are your best friend in this. The more, the merrier.

The Dimitrescu daughter does not ask if the bath is ready when she comes in. You aren’t used to her being so silent, so you turn to see if something is wrong –but immediately regret it when the heavy robe clinging to her body drops down. The only glimpse you catch is of the fabric pooling at her feet like a shadow.

Your eyes stay glued on the queen-sized bathtub, even when she approaches. They turn to the side as she enters it.

You want to ask if the water is fine, but you can’t find your voice. You lose even your train of thought when she lets out a small hiss as she sinks in, replaced by a moan once she’s completely settled back, neck tilted and eyes closed in bliss. The polite thing is to let her bathe in peace, so you move to do just that.

Cassandra has other plans.

Her hand shoots out of the tub to wrap around your wrist, inescapable as an iron shackle. Those intense yellowish eyes are on you again and they seem to be glowing under the dim lights.

“No.” she says. “Massage. Now.”

Ah, great. You think. You’ve spoiled her. But if giving Cassandra massages is what is going to keep your hands attached to your body, you won’t complain. It’s just that… you can’t really focus right now. None of your thoughts are right or remotely what they should be. You need time off from her, rather than touching her.

Thankfully, the moans are kept to a minimum and there is no teasing. She is utterly relaxed, only giving the occasional command for higher or lower. It does kind of kill you when at one point she whispers “Right there.” but you are able to move past it.

You leave fresh towels beside her when you’re finally allowed to leave. Back in her bedroom, you light the fireplace in a way that you make sure will last through the day, while she’ll be asleep. The plan is to leave before she returns, but she’s already there by the time you’re finished with the preparations.

And –you’re trapped.

Because, again, she’s changing and you have to look away to preserve your sanity and probably your eyes. “No peeping, now.” she calls over her shoulder. You know better than to dare.

You keep your hands busy arranging bottles and boxes at her vanity until she’s done. Cassandra does that ‘flashing’ thing where she’s on one side of the room one moment and right behind you the next. You only then notice a little insect flying back into her form. It was spying on you.

“You didn’t even look near me, huh.” she says it like ‘congratulations, you passed’, but there’s a bitter undertone of disappointment in her voice.

She’s only feeling down that you didn’t give her an excuse to slice at your face, you think. Then again, does she really need one?

“I wouldn’t, my lady.” you assure. “If I may be excused—”

“Did I say you can go?” she turns you around, none-too-gently, her hands on your biceps tight. You’re effectively pinned against her and the vanity, but you have much bigger problems to worry about, when you take in what she’s wearing.

Cassandra is clad in a flimsy nightrobe that leaves little to the imagination, the fabric nearly see-through. You can see the edges of her lacy underwear underneath it, how nicely it sits against her perfect curves. To make matters even worse, the robe ends at about mid-thigh and your eye catches the expanse of creamy skin on display.

Your brain nearly melts.

“I don’t know what it is about you, plaything, but you’re working up my appetite.” she confesses, pressing into you, pressing you harder into the furniture. You try to think of literally anything else than how well her thigh is slotted between your legs.

If you’re supposed to look away from her lidded eyes, however, you can’t. And if you’re not supposed to feel the echo of her nails on your arm all the way down to your center, you can’t. You are definitely not supposed to be so achingly curious about her bow-shaped lips. But you just can’t.

“You’re working me up.” she breathes, so close you can feel the ghost of her lower lip on yours.

And then –her mouth is on you and you forget how to breathe. Your eyes close and just feel, instead. If this is how you die, maybe it isn’t such a bad way to go. It’s been too long since you kissed anyone, seems like ages ago now, but you gradually remember how to move once you allow your muscles to unlock.

Not looking at her makes it easier. Her lips are balmy and smooth and slide so good on your own you can’t think at all, much less of what she’s capable of. You would have guessed her to be aggressive, but Cassandra is oddly hesitant, the only thing hard about her being her grip.

You’re not sure what you’re doing or how you get so bold, but your hands trail up to her waist and pull her in. The little hitch in her breath threatens to break you. It provides the perfect opening to part her lips with your tongue. As soon as it touches hers, she moans low in her throat and slowly drags her hips against your thigh.

Oh. God.

There’s a hollow ache in your stomach. You’re shamefully wet for her. The voice of reason is mute in your head, until you’re forced to break your liplock to breathe and it only then hits you what you’ve just done.

Cassandra’s lips are insistent on your jawline, on the vulnerable spot under your ear. Her open-mouthed kisses are just hard enough, at first, but then start to border on painful. Your heart skips a beat when you feel the press of teeth, yet she rips herself off of you before she bites down.

“Ugh. I’m… so thirsty.” she says it lightly, but her voice is hoarse and something about her body language gives you the impression she’s hurting. “You should leave. Fast.”

You almost make the mistake of reaching for her. Almost.

Cassandra turns away from the temptation of your veins.

For both your sakes –mostly for yours— you hurry out of her room and never stop to look back.

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village #fanfiction #she's so flirty in game I love her #playful vampire sadist princess of my heart #and Bela's just plain a boss and a bae too

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realcube · 4 years ago

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ARCADE

summary ★ she needs to get the action figure that's in the claw machine for her sister’s birthday, so saiki does her the favour of using his a telekinesis to win it...along with a few other favours.

trigger warning ★ gambling, god, swearing, fem!reader & reader has a younger sister

construction on the new arcade near pk academy had finally come to an end. the grand opening was today after school so of course, nendou suggested that they attend as a squad. usually, saiki tried to avoid getting roped into outings like this but for a change, he actually agreed without the need for any further prying. that's because the arcade was attached to a small cinema where they'd be premiering the latest action movie — based on the TV show adaptation of the game — 'Olfana's Story X-2'. as it turns out, a few months after saiki gave the game a shot, it became a craze and a massive hit among speed-runners. so from it's new-found popularity, they developed a TV show series which inevitably flopped so now they have created a movie. only the most elite people among the gaming community were allow to see it before the official release date and they all said it was incredible; but there was not a doubt in saiki's mind that they were being paid to sing it's praise. a crappy game turned into a crappy show, now adapted into a movie was sure to be crappy. so you may be wondering why he even wanted to view the movie if he was set on it being awful. Well, there are two simple answers; curiosity and the mystery. since it was so exclusive, he had yet to overhear spoilers through his telekinesis and he now had a germanium ring in his possession so he could watch the movie in peace. also, having played the game but not seen the show, he was curious to see how bad the movie is going to be and perhaps he'd be able to get a good laugh out of it. but he made the mistake of mentioning his plan to see the movie which screened a few hours after the opening of the arcade, as now kuboyasu, nendou and kaidou were all going to see the movie along with him. In theory, it shouldn't be a problem since he'll have his germanium ring on but in practise, the world seems to be against saiki so one of his friends will probably end up stealing his popcorn or chatting throughout the entire movie. he'll just have to wait and see. kaidou and nendou did not even stop to take breaths as they raced on about how excited they were while they were all walking to the arcade. "i'm sure the movie is going to be sick!" kaidou exclaimed, followed by rapid head nods from nendou as he replied, "yup! And i can't wait to see what sort of games they have!" saiki was a bit excited himself but he didn't care to show it like the others did. but when he saw the vaporwave building covered with bright neon lights come into view, his lips curled into a small smile. though it was short-lived as he noticed the massive queue to get in; it appeared as though they weren't the only ones who had the idea to visit the arcade after school as he noticed many familiar faces standing in line, amongst crowds of others. all of their cheery auras dissipated for a few moments until kuboyasu perked up, approaching the doors to the arcade with a smug smirk, cutting in front of everyone in the line and gesturing for the boys to follow him, "don't worry about the queue, guys. follow me." nendou followed without any further questions but saiki and kaidou were a bit apprehensive. all three of them watched as kuboyasu stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the guard by one of the doors, muttering something in the man's ear, causing him to sweatdrop and hesitantly open the door with a shaky smile; allowing all four of them inside. "woah, that was awesome, aren!" kaidou yelled, not only out of awe but so he could be heard over all the cheering, laughing and game noises from inside the arcade. "yeah, that was so cool! but what did you say to that guy? he looked freaked out!" nendou inquired, surprising saiki with his actually intelligent observation. kuboyasu's hand found it's way behind his neck, rubbing it awkwardly as he chuckled, "oh, nothing! it's not important-- hey! how about you guys start playing your games and i'll go get the tickets we reserved, yeah?" "yeah!" kaidou and nendou cheered in unison, high-fiving the purple-haired boy before the all ran off in different directions, leaving saiki standing alone at the entrance. he fidgeted with his germanium ring, contemplating taking it off as he stared at kuboyasu; he really wanted to know what the teen boy could've said that'd incite such fear into a grown man, but he decided against it — merrily making his way towards the claw machines, leaving kuboyasu's secrets alone. ★★★★★★★★★★ "shit." he cursed under his breath as he watched the cyborg cider man plushie that he's been trying to win — for yuuta — for half an hour straight slip out of his grasp once again. 'these things are rigged. and what's the point in having psychic superpowers if i can't use them.' he thought to himself but had to quickly shake off the idea, as there was no way he could risk using his powers in such a crowded place, especially for a plush that wasn't even for himself but rather for an annoying kid. he sighed, slipping another coin into the slot and about to find the right state of mind until he heard a loud "fuck!" from in front of him. his head jerked up, scanning the area for the source of the noise until his eyes landed on you. the claw machines were lined up, back-to-back, and playing on the machine diagonal from him was a girl with enchanting (e/c) eyes which contrasted greatly with her disheartened expression as she stared at the box. the only emotion she wore was sadness as she stared at the machine, so out of curiosity, saiki slipped off his ring in order to read her thoughts; feeling no guilt in listening to the affairs of a complete stranger. 'c'mon, stupid claw machine, i need this!' your silky yet whiny voice rung through his mind, 'what's she gonna think about me tomorrow when i tell her that i couldn't get her the gift she's wanted? she's gonna hate me- even more than she already does. and now i've spent all my money on this silly game so i can't even try get her a crappy gift with the little money i had. Wow, (y/n), you're the worst big sister in existence.' saiki cocked his head to the side, peering through the glass of the machines to see the contents of the claw machine you were standing in front of and when he saw the limited edition, silver cyborg cider man action figure sitting on a pedestal — almost as if it was taunting the poor girl — he finally connected the dots. your hand dug through your pockets until you found the smooth metal surface of your final coin, 'just once more try. if i win her this action figure, maybe she'll finally respect me as her big sister! and this toy will surely make her more happy than any gift mom could've possibly thought of. i'll make her sixth birthday one to remember!' the dejected look on your face slow lifted into a determined one, but it wasn't very convincing as saiki — and anyone else — could see the worry and shame in your eyes as you dropped your last coin into the slot of the machine, giving you one more chance to redeem yourself and claim the title of 'best big sister in the world'. saiki watched you maneuver the claw of the machine with bated breath, admiring how your pretty nose crinkled and your tongue poked out from the corners of your perfectly glossed lips in concentration — 'ew, stop being a simp, kusuo.' he mentally rebuked himself before engaging with your scene one again. your fist slammed down against the big red button, followed by the claw opening and lowering over the box of the cyborg cider man action figure, slowly closing it's jaws around the box and grasping it perfectly, resulting in a slight gasp to escape your throat as your lips pulled into a grin. the claw kept it's grip in the toy as it lifted up, slowly making it's way over the hole where it would drop the action figure, straight into your possession. that is, if the grip didn't falter hence allowing the toy to fall down, off it's pedestal and onto the bottom of the compartment to join the rest of the more average action figures. "fuck!" you screamed in an almost identical way to which you did earlier, expect this one held more pain. 'this can't be happening; is this the third year in a row that i'm going to show up to my little sister's birthday party empty-handed?' you thought, your bottom lips quivering so you quickly bit down on it, staring at the damned toy before turning on your heels, shuffling away from the game with your head hung low, the thoughts which cried in your head about how much you budgeted and how hard you worked made saiki's heart sink. 'maybe i could take out a mortga--' your thoughts were abruptly cut off when you heard the noise of something falling behind you. whipping your head around to see what happened, you exhaled a sigh of relief upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary. however, you caught a glimpse of inside the machine which you had been cursing at and realised that the toy wasn't with the packaging peanuts where you left it, as if it magically disappeared in the few seconds you had averted your gaze. creeping up to it, your gaze darted around in search of anyone who might've won it in less than 5 seconds but that was unlikely. now that you were closer, you peered through the glass once more to confirm that the toy was in fact missing and you were right. recalling the noise of falling you heard just before you turned around, you dropped to your knees and lifted the flap to the compartment which held the good that people would win from the machine. you almost screamed with delight and shock when you laid eyes on the limited edition, cyborg cider man action figure that was tucked snugly inside. yanking it out, you pressed it to your chest and the tears you were choking back finally came running down your cheeks, but now they were from joy. "thank you, god." you whispered to yourself, making saiki chuckle from his spot at the claw machine which he hadn't moved from. he wasn't god — nor was he friends with god — but he didn't mind not being able to take the credit for his kind actions of using his psychokinesis to drop the box into the hole for you. honestly, he found that seeing you happy, sitting on the floor with brightest beam gracing your features along with your now cheerful thoughts in his head, was enough of a reward for him anyway. also, he appreciated how you didn't question how the box ended up in the hole and instead you just deemed it a miracle as you were too overjoyed to use logic; that sort of thinking saved saiki a lot of trouble. 'i should probably go home and wrap this.' your internal monologue had now calmed down slightly as you were now able to produce a thought that wasn't just a squeal of delight, 'hm, maybe once i am done i could come back and see the new movie that's premiering-- but i've not got much money left so i guess i shouldn't get ahead of myself.' you hummed, picking up the box along with yourself, dusting yourself off before heading towards the exit. saiki must've been staring for a tad too long though as you caught his gaze while brushing off your clothes. he cringed, instinctively darting his eyes away so you didn't think he was an ogling creep but the fact he appeared defensive probably didn't help. so he fully expected you to frown or cast him a dirty look, judging him for his actions but to his surprise, you simply chuckled. waving at the pink-haired boy before strolling off with the box under your arm. 'he seems cool. where i can get clips like those?' why were you thoughts making him blush like an idiot? time to put the germanium ring back on. ★★★★★★★★★★ as it turns out, nendou is surprisingly good at poker. he figured this out after he stumbled across the casino section of the arcade, and since he looks way older than seventeen, nobody questions it when he took a seat at one of the slot machines, under the impression that it was a fancy, old-timey arcade game. he was then offered a round of poker with some old dude with way too many gold teeth and nendou ended up taking the poor, stubborn guy's entire fortune. god-knows how many games with how-many people later, nendou was sitting on stacks of cash at a round table with a tired dealer, and two grown men — one crying into the shoulder of his arm-candy and the other weeping into the sleeve of his suit — while the three boys who had came to give him his ticket stood by, all wearing matching confused expressions. "uh, nendou." kuboyasu tapped his friend on the shoulder, waving the ticket in front of his face, "the movie is gonna start soon, we should start heading over there right now so we can buy snacks and get good seats." nendou raised an eyebrow, puzzled until he recalled that he was supposed to watch a movie today, "oh, that sounds cool and all but i'm having a lot of fun right here." he smiled, motioning to the large casino area. kuboyasu chuckled awkwardly, backing away from nendou slightly as he turned on his heels, ushering the two other boys away, "alright, well, have fun, nendou! don't stay out too late!" nendou sung an okay in response, sliding a kaidou some cash for the extortionate theatre snacks before he was rushed away by kuboyasu, the purple-haried boy not wanting to spend anymore time in the casino than needed. "if nendou isn't joining us for the movie then we have a spare ticket. here, saiki, you should have it!" "why me?" "uh, because you said you saw reita earlier. so if you see him again maybe you could offer him the spare ticket." 'absolutely not.' was vocalised as "sure." by saiki as he took the ticket from kuboyasu's outstretched hand, fiddling with it before stuffing it into his pocket along with his own ticket. "what i said to nendou was kinda an exaggeration" aren mused, glancing at his watch before looking up at his two pals, "we still have some time left before the movie starts. i'm gonna go handle some business — you two have fun, and try find reita!" kuboyasu said before pivoting on his heels in the direction of the staff only closet. the only thing saiki could think to do during this free-time was escape kaidou's pestering to play dance dance revolution — since saiki didn't want to dance, dance or revolute, he darted outside as soon as kuboyasu left, leaving kaidou alone and confused in the middle of the arcade. 'finally, fresh air.' saiki inhaled, filling his lungs with the cool air rather than the stuffy, arcade oxygen. scanning the surrounding area, his eyes caught a glimpse of a figure standing by the ATM, which he immediately recognised to be that of the girl he had helped earlier. so naturally, he flicked of his ring to figure out the reasoning behind the awkward look on her face. 'do i really want to withdraw money to see some stupid movie? i mean, i could leave that money to accumulate and buy something nicer later.' without thinking, saiki hummed in agreement with your thoughts as he had been in your position many times before. 'but then again, i should treat myself! when was the last time i saw a movie that wasn't pirated? hmm..' your indecisive thoughts matched perfectly with your conflicted expression as you stared through furrowed brows at the screen of the ATM. a soft breeze passed, followed by something light smacking against you face. you winced slightly, your hand snapping your cheek and grabbing at whatever it was; just by the texture, you could tell it was paper. holding it in front of you, upon further inspection you realised that the mysterious sheet that had flew into your possession was in fact a ticket to tonight's showing of 'Olfana's Story X-2' row G, seat 9. you double, triple checked it out of fear that this may be a cruel prank but no, this was completely real! you cheered, bouncing up and down and away from the ATM since you no longer needed it's services as god had blew the desired item straight into your hands — or your face, rather. either way though, you were over the moon, clutching the ticket to your chest and basking in your second miracle of the day. unbeknownst to you, saiki's smile was almost as wide as your own. you thanked god for your relief and saiki had no problem with that; seeing your little happy dance and squeals with your free ticket was enough for him. but actually, perhaps he might benefit himself after all, since the ticket he had given you previous belonged to nendou. meaning that saiki was seated at row G, seat 10; right beside you. ★★★★★★★★★★ saiki forgot to send a few notes flying your way in the wind, so you walked into the theatre and took your seat, completely snackless since you couldn't afford the exorbitant prices that they sold food for at the cinema. but perhaps that wasn't all bad as it revealed the possibility for saiki to offer you some of his popcorn as a conversation-starter, as he's usually not too good at socialising with new people — forget starting a conversation. however, he didn't need to work up any sort of courage to talk to you as the first thing you did when you plopped down in your seat beside him was turn to him and chirp, "oh, you're the guy i saw at the claw machines earlier! i love your clip thingies." your buoyant-adrenaline allowing your to be more bold than usual. the movie had yet to start, low murmurs of chatter coming from across the theatre as the trailers played in the background, "yes. and thanks." 'good grief, curse myself for not being more talkative. she probably thinks i'm dull now. perhaps i should channel my inner nendou..if i have one.' instead of ending the conversation right there like he assumed you would, you continued talking and saiki was..glad? why did he want to interact with you so much? he spends most of his days trying to avoid interacting with people; why were you any different? "no problem- also, did you get what you were playing for?" you inquired, tapping your lip in genuine curiosity. his ring remained on his finger, despite the fact he wanted to know what you thought about him, he didn't want to invade your privacy any more than he already has. "no. did you?" "yeah, i did, actually!" you chirped, not noticing the smirk creeping onto saiki's lips as you were too engulfed in your memories, "i thought those games were rigged but maybe they're not 'cause i managed to win this super special action figure that my sister has been on the top of my sister's wishlist for like- forever! and her birthday is tomorrow so i'll be a--" you cut yourself off, crinkling your nose in embarrassment, "sorry, i'm over-sharing, aren't i?" your enthusiasm made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to, if you didn't know any better, he would have thought he was having a medical emergency. his eyes widened slightly as you halted in your speech, "no, you're fine." he said, the uncharacteristic softness in his voice catching the attention of his two pals sitting on the other side of him. you shook off his comment, "i mean, i'm telling you my life story and i don't even know your name." you said, laughing sheepishly at the reality of the reality of the situation.

“saiki kusuo.” he blurted out without a second thought.

you blinked a few times, shocked that he’d give his details away so easily as you somewhat expected him to be more of a reserved type of guy but evidently, you were wrong. “uh, i’m (l/n) (y/n).” you choked, biting down on your bottom lip slightly before continuing you story as he seemed to wait expectantly, “as i was saying, today’s just been the best day ever! everything has been going so well, i’m a bit scared as to what is going to happen when it hits midnight.”

saiki nodded along, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth before remembering his plan, “oh- would you like some?” he asked, offering you some popcorn from his bucket. unfortunately, the plan was a last-minute thing so he had only bought a small, but he still wasn’t opposed to sharing.

you shook your head, trying to grin foolishly wide at his kind offer, “no thank you.”

saiki nodded, about to open his mouth to reply until the blaring music from the beginning of the movie started, putting a swift end to your conversation — despite the fact saiki would much rather talk to you than watch the crappy movie — out of theatre etiquette.

★★★★★★★★★★

it was worse than you or saiki could’ve ever imagined.

it was painfully trying not to burst out laughing right in middle of it or lean over and giggle in each other’s ear at the silly dialog but out of respect for the other people in the cinema, you both stayed silent and just cast each other occasional knowing glances whenever something cringey happened on screen.

you both let out audible sighs of relief with the credits began to roll, accompanied by a slow indie song. “that was..something.” you mumbled, grabbing your purse and jumping to your feet, wanting to exit the building as soon as possible and hopefully leave your memories of the movie behind you.

“definitely.” he snickered, absently flicking the side of his empty popcorn bucket, “i stopped paying attention once i finished my popcorn.” it felt weird to vocalise — or rather, telepathically communicate — the comments he’d usually keep to himself; why did he feel so comfortable speaking to someone he only just met?

he began gathering his things, stuffing all of his rubbish in the bucket so he could dispose of it all at once. his mind was fixated on crappiness of the movie and how a five-year-old could’ve shot a much better film, until you grabbed his attention by calling out his name, followed by a question which made him blood run cold.

“before i go, it gotta ask’ how’d you do it? or more importantly, why’d you do it?”

he blinked several times before putting on his best bewildered expression, with the idea that maybe if he played dumb, he could gaslight you into thinking that it never happened or that he had nothing to do with it. “what?”

“oh, don’t give me that!” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at the boy, “i’m not stupid. every time something good happened to me, you were nearby. i’ve connected the dots so fess up. why did you do all those nice things for me? was it out of pity or are you that nice to everyone?”

“i’m that nice to everyone.”

“i don’t believe you.” you snapped, fixing your tone when you remembered that even though he was lying to you, he still helped you get the present for you sister and gave you his spare ticket. “i don’t care if you’re not gonna give me a straight answer, but at least let me make it up to you.”

he huffed, an unimpressed look covering his features before you even proposed your idea. there was really nothing he could possibly need from you. what were you going to give him that he wasn’t capable of obtaining on his own? so he frowned, ready to decline your offer.

“i saw that you bought one of those jelly pots from the snack stand and i actually work at a little café in the town, so i might be able to get you few things for free or discounted?”

“yes.” wait, that wasn’t refusal.

“great!” you chirped, glad that you wouldn’t have to pry further, “does later this week sounds good? we could meet up here then i can walk you to the café- or i could give you my number and we can arrange a date later?”

“sure.” saiki said without thinking once again.

but it wasn’t as though he regretted it when you slipped the piece of paper you had scribbled your number onto, into the front pocket of his shirt, tapping it with a smile. “alright! i’ll see you later then- unless you want to walk home with me?” you fidgeted with your fingers slightly, instantly regretting what you just came out with. not because you didn’t want to walk with him, but due to the fact you highly doubted he was going so say accept so you mentally prepared for the impact of his harsh rejection.

“sure.”

★★★★★★★★★★

BONUS

saiki ended up walking home with some girl he met at the theatre so that left kuboyasu and kaidou to fetch nendou once the film finished. they both searched the casino area for almost half an hour but neither of them had any luck finding nendou. that was, until kuboyasu had to take a step outside to escape the casino as he noticed an old friend of his playing on the slot machines, and he found nendou crouched by the garbage cans, on his phone.

“nendou! we’ve been looking all over for you- why are you out here by the trash? and what happened to all your money?!”

nendou chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his spare hand, “fun story actually. i was doing so well and i was on my way to becoming a millionaire until these schoolgirls came marching in and absolutely slaughtered me! it was so embarrassing and the only way i could escape them was by running away so i hid back here.”

kuboyasu’s aura just screamed ‘disappointed but not surprised’, “so you’re telling me that you lost millions to highschool girls?”

“they might’ve been middle-schoolers, i’m not too sure. i didn’t get a very good look at ‘em but they were all wearing creepy red uniforms.”

all kuboyasu could do was massage his temples to ease his headache at the stupidity of his friends, “so you lost all your money to school girls in creepy red uniforms?” he repeated aloud, just to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“yes. but not all my money.” he said, pulling out his wallet and grandly opening it to reveal a few notes and a button, “i’ve still got enough to spend on ramen with my bros!”

#the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki headcanons #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki no psi nan #saiki k x reader #saiki x reader #kusou saiki #saiki imagines #kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki k headcanons #psychic kusuo #kusuo saiki

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zafirosreverie · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I was the one who asked about the Daenerys fic if your ok with it would you be ok with doing one where reader was riding the dragon that the night king shot down. And dany had to watch them fall but reader didn’t die and ends up coming back with the dragon and saves dany from the night walkers during the fight at winterfell. If your uncomfortable with it then you don’t have to I will understand. Love your writing by the way.

Here it is hon! As i said, i haven't watch the show in a long time (and it's my first time writting for her in a almost a year) so, I'm sorry if Daenerys feels ooc or if i got something wrong.

I hope you like it!

Fly again (Daenerys x reader)

You didn’t know what was happening until it was too late.

You had gone with Daenerys to rescue Jon Snow and the others, fighting against this...thing called The Night King. You really didn’t understand why Dany would care this much for the man, but you didn’t question it either. It was Daenerys, your khaleesi (and a little more)! You would always be by her side, no matter what.

You were so fortunate to have her trust and love. By the time she found you alone, she was already a widow. She took you under her wing and kept you by her side, allowing you to grow closer to her and her children. She would do anything for you and you would die for her.

Seemed that the universe thought it was a good time to prove it.

When Dany decided to go help the men, you quickly offered to go with her. She smiled and kissed you softly before she told you to go with Viserion.

Viserion. Your lovely boy.

You loved the three children of Daenerys, as if they were your own, and they seemed to accept you too, but Viserion was always your secret favorite. He was often left behind in the sake of Drogon, who was stronger and fiercer, or for Rhaegal, who was much calmer and serene, always at the orders of his mother and brother.

But Viserion was always in the middle ground. Not as strong as Drogon, but much more naugthy than Rhaegal. And you loved it. From the time when he was just a baby, he would often sit on your shoulder, or curl up on your lap, pulling on your clothes to have your attention. When he growed up a little and was learning to hunt, he would often bring something for you, from a single fish or a whole goat. It was so cute of him.

Dany would joke about how you stole her place as his parent.

And maybe you did. Not fully, of course, but this was your baby too.

And now, the two of you were falling. Falling from the fucking sky. It hurted you to know that this was the end, that you couldn’t save your boy, that you would never see your other children. But most of all, that you wouldn’t kiss Dany or hold her in your arms ever again.

“I’m sorry, boy” you shushed as you and the dragon kept falling, some of his blood in the air “I love you” you whispered for both him and Daenerys.

The last thing you felt was something strong and rough wrapping around you, before the darkness swallowed you.

Daenerys watched in horror as The Night King shot her son and made him fall.

“Y/N” she whispered. You were there, you were on Viserion’s back!

The shock made her freez and she couldn’t move as she watched you both falling to the ground. The dragon curled up as he fell, but you weren’t nowhere to be seen. The world disappeared for her.

She didn’t feel the men getting on Drogon’s back, or Ser Jorah calling her name, telling her to fly. She just couldn’t feel anything as she watched Viserion disappear in the cold water. When Jorah put his hand on her shoulder, she snapped out of her shock and ordered Drogon to get them out of there.

As they flew away, she glared one last time to the broken ice. She knew her other two children felt the same pain as her. They lost you both.

_________________________

You didn’t know how much time you were unconscious. You gasped for air when you woke up and quickly watched around. You were lying on the snow, but couldn't see anything beyond a meter. Something covered you, enclosing you in a kind of cocoon. It took you a few moments to recognize the warmth around you.

"Viserion" you whispered.

The dragon was hugging you, protecting you.

You carefully pushed one of the wings and walked outside your cocoon. You heard the dragon groaning as you walked to his head, patting it. Viserion slowly opened his eyes and you sighed in relief when you noticed they were still green. He was still your boy.

“Good to know that the night king didn’t take you from me, boy” you said as you kissed his head.

Your second thought was Dany. She probably thought you were dead. Damn it, not long ago you thought you were dead yourself! The simple thought of her mourning you, mourning for Viserion, was too much for you. You wanted to go to her, to hug her and kiss her. And Drogon and Rheagal! They were your children too, and even if your bond with them wasn’t as strong as your bond with Viserion, you knew they loved you as much as you loved them. And they lost a brother too. God, you wanted to comfort them all. But you couldn’t with Viserion in that state.

His wound was still open and it broke your heart. He saved you. Saved you from the fall, saved you from drowning, saved you from the cold. He protected you even when he hurt himself. It was your turn to take care of him, and you swore to all the gods you knew that you would see him fly again. For him, for Drogon, for Rheagal and for Dany.

_____________________________________

“Watch out!” you yelled and Viserion dodged a tree, making you laugh. It felt so good to fly again with him.

The past months were a nightmare for you. It was extremely hard to take care of a wounded dragon, and even more when you were in the middle of nowhere. Finding food was a hard task as you were recovering too and Viserion couldn’t move too much. The cold was often a pain in your ass as you couldn’t even see too much because of the snow.

That and you also had to hide from the night walkers. Apparently, The Night King thought you were dead too, and wanted Viserion on his army. Hidding a fucking dragon was probably the hardest thign you have ever done. But the love you had for Viserion and the hope to see Daenerys someday again, kept you alive all this time.

You knew the Night King had a plan and knowing Dany, she would be on Winterfell when the night walkers invade it. So you didn’t have much time. You had to train with Viserion to be ready for the war.

It made you feel guilty, making him fight too soon after his recovery, but you didn’t have other choice. You had to do it, for Dany.

___________________

Daenerys looked around, trying to find someone to help her or something to defend herself. The night king made her fall from Drogon and she was alone on the battlefield.

It was her fault, really. She has been blinded by the rage. It was him who took it all from her: her son, her partner, the love of her life. Everything she loved! And she wasn’t known for forgiving someone who hurted what was important to her.

That’s why she risked herself and attacked him alone. She was sure Drogon’s fire would be enough to kill him, but the bastard just walked out of it as if it was a simple breeze. Now she was alone, and pretty sure she would die.

At least...at least she would see you again.

The night walkers approached her from all the angles. She was surrounded, without escape and without a weapon. Although even if she had one, she still would not have been able to defend herself, she had no combat experience.

And then, she saw it.

A fireball coming from the sky, forming a barrier in front of her and burning the night walkers. What the hell? When she looked up again, she gasped. It couldn’t be.

You were on Viserion’s back, with fire burning on your e/c eyes. You were smiling. And alive. You were pretty alive.

Viserion landed a few steps from Daenerys. You got off his back quickly and ran to her. Surprise filled her beautiful face.

"Khaleesi" you said, smiling at her and waiting for her to recover from her surprise. You knew that you would have to move fast, to help in the battle, but at that moment, the only important thing was that she was there, in front of you, beautiful as always. You had missed her so much.

“Y/N?” she whispered, not sure if her mind was playing tricks on her. She prayed it wasn’t the case as she threw herself at your arms.

You were there. You really were there. You were alive. And Viserion too!

“How-” she couldn’t finish because you pressed your lips to hers.

It felt so good kissing her again. She was shocked, but quickly kissed your back, letting all her grieve fade away, replaced with relief and happiness. She thought you were dead, she had mourned you!

“Viserion saved me” you said and smiled. Dany blinked and couldn’t help but to feel grateful and proud of her son.

The dragon growled when more night walkers appeared. You took Daenerys’ hand and helped her to climb onto Viserion’s back. You wished you had more time to talk, to hug and kiss her. But it will have to wait.

For now, you have ice asses to kick.

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #request #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #got imagine #daenerys targaryen #daenerys x reader

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kjack89 · 4 years ago

Text

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 5/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage shenanigan-fest, and we’ve actually gotten to the marriage part! Or, at least, the wedding. (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3)

As much as this Author positively loathes to gloat, there comes a time when even the most modest among us must utter those four words everyone hates to hear: I told you so.

Both the Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire emerged from their duel with not a scratch upon them and with the Marquess sworn to uphold the honor of Mr. Grantaire’s sister and rectify the situation he caused by joining her in matrimony. As befits the magnitude of the scandal, a special license has been purchased – for who knows what sum – so that the whole affair can be concluded before the Dowager Marchioness even has a chance to book a carriage out to the country to meet her soon-to-be daughter-in-law.

Much to the relief of both the Marquess and his fiancée, this Author presumes.

Still, a wedding may signal an end to impropriety, but scandals are wont to continue of their own accord, especially when one can hardly imagine the Marquess settling quickly or quietly into married life. A storm is brewing, one way or another, but rest assured, Dear Reader – this Author will be here to cover whatever may come next. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 6 MAY 1831

Enjolras hated to admit it, but he was nervous.

He really hadn’t thought he was going to be, but as he stood at the front of the small, unassuming chapel dressed in the best clothes he could purchase on a moment’s notice from the village, his stomach felt like it was doing somersaults somewhere around his knees, and his palms were sweating so much that he was tempted to wipe them on his trousers.

Perhaps nerves were to be expected. After all, it wasn’t everyday that he got married.

Granted, the wedding itself was going to be a simple affair, just Enjolras with Madame Hucheloup in front of the vicar, whom Enjolras had met once, briefly, the prior day and who had been as drunk as Grantaire had promised, so much so that when Grantaire told him that Enjolras would be marrying his sister, the man did not even hesitate, despite presiding over her burial some two decades prior. He seemed equally drunk that morning, swaying slightly as he hummed off-key, waiting for the ceremony to start.

Joining Enjolras and his not-so-blushing fake bride would be Grantaire and Le Cabuc as witnesses, with only the four of them any wiser to the fact that the entire thing was a farce. Then the only final piece of the puzzle was getting a suitable dowry from Grantaire to give to his mother, and then, finally, Enjolras would be free.

Well, free until such a time came as when he would need to ‘bury’ his fake wife, but that was a future problem, and one he was not inclined to think too closely about at the moment.

Especially when he had much bigger concerns: particularly, the fact that Grantaire and Madame Hucheloup were running late.

He glanced over at Le Cabuc, who looked almost bored, and chanced a look back at the vicar, who didn’t seem at all concerned with the fact that time was stretching on and there was no sight of either of them. Enjolras was just about to excuse himself to go track down Grantaire and Madame Hucheloup himself when the woman in question appeared in the back of the parish, out of breath and – far more concerning – dressed in her usual clothes and not the wedding dress that Enjolras had dutifully purchased to continue the façade, clutching a valise assumedly containing other clothes.

Enjolras frowned and hurried to intercept her. “Beg pardon,” she said breathlessly, her face flushed red as if she had run the entire way from the house. “But there’s been a change.”

“A change?” Enjolras repeated, stupidly. “What kind of change?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Himself is on his way, he’ll explain everything.”

Enjolras would have much preferred that she explain, but given that she looked like she was about to topple over at any given moment, he supposed the polite thing to do was to walk her to a seat before heading to the back of the chapel to await Grantaire and whatever explanation he brought.

So he did just that, depositing her in a chair before hurrying to the chapel door to intercept Grantaire and find out just what explanation he could possibly—

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of Grantaire hurrying towards him, dressed not in his Sunday best as was anticipated but rather wearing, of all the garments in the world, the wedding dress.

Enjolras was certain his mouth fell open as he stared at Grantaire, temporarily unable to speak. There was a very small, distracted part of his brain that noticed that despite the dress not having been tailored for him by any stretch, it somehow fit Grantaire rather pleasingly.

He shook his head to clear it of that thought and wrenched his mouth open. “What in the bloody hell—”

“Language,” Grantaire chided, sounding stressed as he finally arrived at the door. “We are on consecrated ground, after all.”

It was a patently absurd thing to say, and accounted for Enjolras spluttering in response, “Yes, we are, so perhaps you can explain what in God’s name you’re wearing?!”

Grantaire drew himself up to his full height and scowled at Enjolras. “I’m wearing a wedding dress,” he said. “As for the reason I am wearing said wedding dress, which I believe is more to the point of what you’re asking, you should know. You’re the one who helped pass the damned thing.” Enjolras stared blankly and Grantaire elaborated, “The law was updated recently, requiring one male and one female witness for any nuptial ceremony.”

Enjolras had a sudden, horrible memory of celebrating a law passed through the House of Lords that was meant to help keep young women from being forced into marriage with their father and brother as the sole witnesses, an all-too-common occurrence. Granted, the efficacy of the law remained to be seen, since too many mothers were frequently willing to go along with such plans, but it was a start, and—

He shook his head to clear it. “And so Madame Hucheloup needs to be one of the witnesses,” he said instead, finally putting together the pieces to which Grantaire had been alluding in his usual, maddening way.

“Well, I thought about simply making up a woman’s name and forging the signature on the certificate,” Grantaire said, “but seeing as how I rather suspect that this particular marriage certificate will face more scrutiny than most, it didn’t seem a particularly wise course of action.”

Grantaire was almost certainly correct about that, but still Enjolras felt something like despair. “Was there no other woman that you could get to be a witness?” he asked, a bit desperately.

“Another woman whom I trust with my reputation, and far more importantly, with yours?” Grantaire asked, arching an eyebrow. “At this late of date?”

“Then someone who would pretend to be a bride for the day?”

Enjolras knew it was an idiotic question the moment he blurted it, and the look Grantaire gave him reinforced as such. “If I would not trust them to be a witness, what makes you think I would trust them to exchange marriage vows with you? Even if using a false name, I know not the legal ramifications and I would not have someone trying to take you for all your worth.” Enjolras blinked, fleetingly touched by the lengths to which Grantaire seemed determine to go to protect him – or at the very least, to protect his estate. “No, that was not an option. Meaning the only option available to us—”

“—Is you wearing the dress and pretending to be the bride.”

Grantaire grinned at him. “Personally, I think it looks quite fetching on me.”

As if to illustrate his point, he ran a hand down the bodice of the gown, a hand that Enjolras could not help but follow with his eyes as it skimmed the creamy fabric that dipped and clung in all the right places— “That is hardly the point,” he snapped, tearing his eyes away.

“No, the point is that the vicar, drunk though he inevitably is, will start asking questions soon, so it’s best we get this over with as soon as possible,” Grantaire said bluntly, his smile disappearing.

When he later thought about it, Enjolras could come up with no rational explanation for what possessed him to say it, but somehow, he found himself scoffing, “Quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Romance?” he repeated, exasperated. “Is now really—” He broke off without warning, and Enjolras was surprised to see his expression soften as he looked up at Enjolras. “Enjolras,” Grantaire said quietly, the exasperation gone from his voice and replaced by something gentle, something entirely unfamiliar that Enjolras could not quite put a name to. “What there is between us is the stuff of fairytales, of legend. What Helen felt for Paris, or Samson for Delilah, pales in comparison to the depths of my feelings for you, and were I to search every corner of this world I know that there is no one with whom I would rather share the remainder of my days. Will you do me the honor of joining me at the altar and becoming my husband?”

Enjolras couldn’t help himself – he snorted a laugh. “Very well, I suppose I deserved that,” he said briskly. “But I do hope you manage to find some actual sincerity when saying your vows, or even the vicar might realize this is a farce.”

He offered his arm to Grantaire, who took it after settling his veil over his face so that not even Enjolras could read his expression. “I’m beginning to think you wouldn’t know sincerity if it were to bite you in the—”

“Shh,” Enjolras hissed, and for once in his life, Grantaire fell silent as the two of them traversed the short aisle to take their place at the front of the chapel.

“Ah,” the vicar said, smiling at them both. “Welcome, welcome. We are gathered here today, in the sight of God and—” The vicar let out a loud hiccup and Enjolras bit his lip hard enough to almost draw blood to keep from laughing. He glanced sideways at Grantaire, but couldn’t tell if the man was as amused as he. “—and the witnesses gathered here,” the vicar continued, “to watch as the Marquess of Enjolras and the, er, the…”

He trailed off, clearly casting about for the proper title for Grantaire’s sister, and even though he could not see Grantaire’s face, Enjolras could clearly tell that he was rolling his eyes. “Mistress,” Enjolras supplied helpfully, as it seemed the most appropriate title.

“Yes, that,” the vicar said, nodding at him, continuing without pause, “and Grantaire join together in the bonds of Holy Matrimony. You may face each other and recite your vows.”

Enjolras obediently turned to face Grantaire, hesitating before reaching forward to lift the veil from Grantaire’s face as was tradition. After all, with the vicar no longer facing him head on, it seemed doubtful he would notice that the features underneath were decidedly male.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow as Enjolras lifted his veil, but luckily, made no comment, simply reaching out with his lace gloved hands to take Enjolras’s in his own.

The detour from traditional vows had been Enjolras’s only insistence when planning the ceremony, and he was doubly glad he had insisted on it now, since he was not certain that he would make it through if he had to make the usual promises of honoring and cherishing to Grantaire, especially with Grantaire looking at him like that. Instead, he had opted for seven simple words borrowed from the rather utilitarian vows made by some medieval French men upon joining their households in common purpose with each other.

“Un pain, un vin, et une bourse,” Enjolras said, the meaning as simple as the words themselves: one bread, one wine, and one purse, the three things he and Grantaire would now share, bonded as they were by this ceremony.

Grantaire tilted his head slightly, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He had told the vicar that his sister would opt for equally simple vows, and had assured Enjolras that Madame Hucheloup would not surprise him. But Madame Hucheloup did not stand across from him now, and Enjolras knew without any doubt that Grantaire was going to say something else entirely, and he half-dreaded what words would possibly come out of Grantaire’s mouth. “Une vie et un amour,” Grantaire pronounced, and Enjolras was surprised that the breath seemed to catch in his throat at the simple words, an answer and a challenge to his own.

One life and one love.

Well, he had been the idiot who had asked for some semblance of romance.

The vicar was saying something else, but Enjolras seemed to have temporarily lost his ability to hear, staring still at Grantaire, at that small smile still on his face, trying to figure out why or how he suddenly had the urge to lean in and kiss that smile off of his face.

Without warning, the vicar cleared his throat loudly and Enjolras jumped before glancing almost guiltily back at him, but if the vicar noticed, he gave no indication of it, simply intoning, “What the Lord has brought together, let no man tear asunder. By the power vested in me by the King and by the Lord our God, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss—”

The words weren’t even out of his mouth before Enjolras had leaned in to press his lips against Grantaire’s.

It was over almost as quickly as it had happened, Enjolras pulling away before his brain had time to process what had just happened, or what he had just done, and he felt stricken as he scanned Grantaire’s face, looking for some reassurance that he had not made a grave error.

But Grantaire’s face was entirely unreadable as he reached up to again cover his face with his veil before turning back to the vicar, who was smiling at them both in a sort of genial, patronizing way that for some inexplicable reason infuriated Enjolras. Or perhaps it was just that Grantaire had dropped his hands and turned away.

Either way, as the vicar completed his benediction, Grantaire finally turned back to Enjolras, leaning in to tell him in an undertone, “Madame Hucheloup brought some clothes for me. I’m going to change and then we can return home.”

Enjolras nodded dumbly, tempted to ask how they would explain the sudden disappearance of Enjolras’s bride to any onlookers or the vicar himself, but decided it was not worth it. Especially since the vicar took his leave immediately upon the conclusion of the ceremony, mumbling something about being thirsty as he staggered past Enjolras and Grantaire, assumedly heading back to the rectory.

As Grantaire disappeared somewhere to assumedly change, Enjolras felt slightly aimless, milling about the chapel with nothing really to do besides sign the paperwork, which took about twenty seconds. Without any better option, he approached Madame Hucheloup, whom he reasoned had undoubtedly seen her share of weddings. “I beg your pardon for not asking sooner,” he started, “but is there something I’m meant to be doing for this?”

“Other than standing up at the altar as you just did?” she asked with a smile. “No, m’lord. Ordinarily you’d be greeting guests and such, and overseeing – which is to say, and begging your pardon for wording it such, paying for – the wedding feast, but seeing as how you’ll not be having any festivities…” She trailed off and shrugged. “Other than that, you’d be planning the honeymoon trip, I suppose, but again, I’m not sure what you and Himself have got planned there.”

She gave Enjolras a look that he couldn’t quite interpret and he shrugged as well. “Nor do I, I suppose,” he told her with a tight smile. “Very well. Thank you for your help. You and Le Cabuc can return to the manor if you’d like – Grantaire and I will be along soon enough.”

Enjolras wasn’t entirely sure he had any real authority to give orders to Grantaire’s household staff, but neither Madame Hucheloup nor Le Cabuc complained at the dismissal, simply taking their leave – and leaving Enjolras by himself and feeling, quite possibly, more aimless than before.

While his nerves earlier had been expected, this inexplicable feeling of being unmoored was not. Frankly, as the marriage and the wedding to precede it were both shams, he hadn’t expected to feel anything more than slightly embarrassed at the whole process. But embarrassment was really the furthest thing from his mind as he thought about how he had felt standing in front of the vicar with Grantaire.

It should have felt even more of a farce than just the fake wedding itself, exchanging wedding vows with a man. At the very least, he was fairly certain it was a sacrilege, or making a mockery of the sacrament itself.

And yet, it hadn’t felt that way.

Enjolras had never pondered his nuptials save as a thing to be dreaded, had never pictured himself facing some faceless woman and binding himself to her, so he had no frame of reference for how others might have anticipated feeling, but he wondered if others also discovered upon their wedding day that it just felt...right. Like something he was meant to do.

Were he more inclined toward the philosophical, he might’ve wondered if there was a deeper meaning he should be reading into that, or if this should inspire some deeper questions about fate or predestination, but Enjolras had never been one for such discussions, preferring to focus on the here and now, the tangible ways in which he could affect change. And he did not dwell on them now, instead shaking his head once more to clear it of errant thoughts before going to find Grantaire to see what could possibly be taking him so long to get changed.

He did not find him at all in the chapel and was about to give up and head back to the house alone when he caught sight of a lone figure standing out in the small cemetery next to the chapel. Even without being able to make out any of his features, he could tell it was Grantaire, and he frowned slightly before heading over to join him.

“Grantaire?” he called when he finally drew close, and Grantaire looked up, startled.

“My apologies,” he said, something like guilt flashing across his face. “I completely forgot I had offered to walk back up with you.”

Enjolras’s frown deepened, because something about Grantaire seemed off. Not just that he was back in his usual clothes, though that was certainly a brief disappointment to Enjolras, but something about the set of his shoulders and the tired look on his face. He glanced at the small, unadorned stone Grantaire stood in front of, sudden realization hitting as he read the name: Adélaïde Grantaire.

“My sister,” Grantaire said, unnecessarily. “I just wanted a moment with her. She—” His voice broke and he coughed, once, as if to try to hide it. “She would have been greatly amused by today, I think.”

“The idea of you in a wedding dress?” Enjolras guessed, aiming for levity.

But Grantaire shook his head. “The idea of me getting married at all, really,” he said with a short, dry laugh. “We used to joke about it, her and I, when we were small. She told me that a handsome prince would come along and save her from her suffering, and I would tease that I would marry a handsome prince, too, and we would be princesses together.” He shook his head again, but fondly this time. “Hence why she would get great amusement at my marrying a Marquess in her name.” His smile faded. “Sadly, there was no prince in this or any land who could have saved her, no matter how many stars she wished upon.”

Enjolras bowed his head in understanding. “May I ask how she died?” he asked quietly, hoping Grantaire would not think he was intruding. He had refused to talk about his sister earlier, but Enjolras felt like something had changed between them and he might be willing to say a bit more.

Grantaire just shrugged. “She was very ill for much of our childhood,” he said matter-of-factly. “She and my mother were stricken with fever at her birth – my mother succumbed to it. Adélaïde got better, so to speak, but she was never truly healthy. Then when she was nine…” He trailed off before taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It was quick, at least, in the end. Which was a comfort in its own way.”

Enjolras wished he had some eloquent words of comfort to offer, but he felt tongue-tied instead. So in lieu of words, he reached out and gently rested his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, squeezing it once before letting it fall back to his side. Then he cleared his throat. “So she wanted to be saved from illness...what did you hope your handsome prince would save you from?”

“My father.” Grantaire flinched, whether from the words or from the memories they stirred. “He...he did not like me much. He was mostly indifferent to Adélaïde, but he seemed to find fault with everything I did.”

“He beat you.”

Enjolras said the words evenly, but his vision seemed to flash red in front of his eyes at the thought. Any parent hitting their child was a heinous thought, but for some reason, the idea of Grantaire as a child making desperate wishes to escape with his ill sister made his blood boil.

“Well, he rarely carried it out himself, but yes,” Grantaire said, his tone turning matter-of-fact again “And after she died, it got worse. Thankfully, when I went off to school, he was stationed abroad, and has never returned.” He snorted a humorless laugh. “God only knows how disappointed he would be if he could see me today, but I think he and I are both content to pretend the other does not exist.”

Enjolras was not so content, knowing that there was a man out there somewhere with such little regard for his own son, and it took him a moment before he could manage a response. “If he ever comes back, I’ll kill him.”

Grantaire looked sharply at him, searching his expression for a moment before his own softened. “A noble offer, but I don’t think we’re in much danger of that happening.” He nudged Enjolras lightly with his elbow. “Thank you, though.”

“It is the least I can do...as your husband.” Grantaire laughed and Enjolras hesitated before adding, “I promise this arrangement involving your sister, and now you, I suppose, will be only temporary. As soon as everything is handled with my mother, I will find us both a way out of this so that you can return to your memories of her in peace.”

Grantaire shook his head. “I rather wish you wouldn’t,” he said, as if confessing a secret. “It’s been surprisingly pleasant, sharing a devious plot with you. And...sharing this part of myself with someone as well.” He gestured towards his sister’s grave before giving Enjolras a hesitant smile. “Besides, I’m certain our friends would hate for us to return to our usual animosity.”

“Our friends can adjust,” Enjolras muttered.

Grantaire laughed again. “Even so,” he said, before adding, with a beatific smile and a fluttering of his eyelashes in what he clearly deemed an alluring way, “Besides, you can’t be rid of me so quickly. After all, we haven’t even had a chance to have our wedding night yet.” Enjolras blanched and Grantaire laughed once more. “Now come, it’s time we returned to the house before Madame Hucheloup sends a search party after us.”

They started off together, silence stretching between them for a few minutes before Enjolras remarked, off-handedly, “Do you know, I believe that was the first time you’ve called me by my name.”

Grantaire frowned. “When?”

“When you were doing your little mocking proposal.” Enjolras gave him a look. “Normally you call me ‘my lord’ or ‘Apollo’ or some other asinine nickname.”

“I’m sure I have called you by your name before,” Grantaire scoffed, but he didn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes when he said it.

Enjolras wanted to counter that, and drag the matter into their usual bickering as a way to pass the time, but something caused him to hold his tongue. And as they made their way back up to the manor, he could not help but notice that the time passed just as easily in companionable silence, and that their hands kept brushing against each other as they walked.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #chaptered #part 5 #bridgerton au #regency au #nobility au #canon era #fake marriage #wedding #death mention #implied/reference child abuse

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moonlit-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s stepkid

Tony Stark x Potts!child!reader

warnings: alcohol mention

a/n: i rushed these so bad i just wanted to post dhhshsnsna

prompt: y/n is pepper’s kiddo!

it was just you and your mom for a long time

pepper and y/n potts

she couldn’t keep up with you sometimes, too busy dealing with the manchild that was mister anthony edward stark

speaking of—

“uh, who’s this?” -tony, pointing at you

“mr. stark, i am so sorry, the school closed because some kid set fire to the science lab and i didn’t have time to find a sitter—”

“no, it’s fine, no need to apologize. hey, kid, you wanna sit in the boss’s chair? i’ll let you run the company for the day!” *cue you nodding* “sweet, would you mind that, ms. potts?”

“oh? no, not at all” *mouthing* “thank you”

“so, uh, what’s your name? no, don’t tell me: ketchup.”

*giggling* “y/n”

“no way! that was my second guess!”

tony wasn’t used to being around kids

he had no idea that he was actually kind of good around them

despite a few minor hiccups

“you sit in my chair and im gonna spin you around, sound like fun?”

he spun you around WAY too fast and you were diiiiizzy, also you fell off the chair

“don’t tell your mom that we did that. she may be my assistant, but she scares the shit out of me. also, don’t say ‘shit’”

dude he just thought you were a cool kid!!!

“hey, you know, ms. potts, you dont really need to hire a babysitter anymore. y/n’s doing just fine hanging out here”

“how am i not surprised you befriended an actual child?”

she still took him up on his offer, you seemed pretty happy

when your mom worked late, you passed out in tonys office

tony and you had your own little secrets (like falling off the spinning chair), tony showed you around stark tower, and you practically lived there

“i got you a happy meal from mcdonalds!” -tony every day after your school

in all honesty, you weren’t the “popular” kid at school...not even close

but tony made up for it

“y/n! i found this old racecar toy in a box of old stuff, you wanna hold onto it for me?”

you kind of grew up in stark tower tbh? it was pretty cool

and as you grew up, you started to notice more

“mr. tony, do you have a crush on my mom?”

“do i what? no, no, i do—who the hell am i kidding? you caught me”

“called it!”

after that you did everything to try and get them together

when your mom was talking to tony, you would stand behind her and wiggle your eyebrows and just taunt tony endlessly

no! tony cannot remember your mom’s birthday for the life of him! you are his calendar now

“dude, why dont you just ask JARVIS to remind you?”

“i may be a genius, but that doesn’t mean i have common sense”

“wise words, sir” -JARVIS

when tony disappeared for 3 months you were so sad???? like you were not okay at all

and when he came back, he literally exited the plane saying “WHERE’S ‘T-POTT??’”

(your wonderful nickname. ‘t’ for ‘tony jr.’ and ‘pott’ for ‘potts’)

“my mom missed you”

“oh, i bet she did”

“you turned my child into you, tony. i will never forgive you for this”

“well, at least y/n was here to fill in for me, huh?”

tony wanted to show you the arc reactor but he was actually afraid of scarring you lmfaoooo

but he did let you in on the iron man secret (he knew you wouldn’t snitch)

and just to make sure:

“if you dont tell anyone, i’ll buy you a car when you turn 16”

“man, that’s like, forever away”

“good, maybe you’ll forget by then”

ur mom kinda maybe sorta found out abt iron man :/ she told you that tony was a bad influence

“mom! no, tony’s cool! he’s like a superhero”

“no, sweetie, he’s a rich guy with issues. we’re leaving”

that didn’t last long

not long at all

and soon they FINALLY got together

“jeez, i thought you two would never stop pining after each other”

“couldnt have done it without my wingman” -tony *fistbump*

“as thanks can i have my own iron man suit?”

“yes.” *pepper glaring at him* “no.”

sooner or later your mom and you moved into tony’s house and you got a really big room!!!!

it was completely decked out

king sized bed, flatscreen tv, mini-fridge, microwave, computer, your own bathroom with a smaller tv, a poster of tony??? (you vandalized it and put it in his workshop), and more!!!

okay you were spoiled

“do you like it here? are you sure i made the right choice?” -pepper

“are you kidding, mom? this is awesome! plus, you’re happy, i’m happy, tony’s happy, i think JARVIS is even happy!”

“i am, mx. potts. simply ecstatic” -JARVIS

pepper was really happy!! it was a pretty cool family

you started giving your school tony’s number if you ever got in trouble, you knew he’d cover for you

“mr. potts, is it?”

“sure”

“your child, y/n, punched another student in the face today. we’re very disappointed in their behavior”

“why’d they punch the kid?”

“well, the other student punched y/n first”

“HAH! thank you for wasting my time. send y/n back to class and call me back if something important comes up”

he literally gave you a high five when you got home

“i gave him a black eye!”

“i couldn’t be more proud. i mean, i dont condone violence, but self defense is a whole other story”

a little help in the workshop, tony asks you to hold the flashlight

“why don’t you get one of your robots to hold this for you?”

“are you kidding me, you’re complaining? we’re having stepdad/stepkid bonding time! and dum-e can’t do anything right, i dont trust him”

youve had a few theme park trips as a family ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

also tony has 100% told you to wait in the car and then left you alone for 2+ hours

“i’m not like a regular dad, im a step-dad. want some beer? you can have a little sip. i’d rather you do it in the house”

your mother actually does love how he actually cares about you!

“y/n is 12% my responsibility” -tony

“tony, you are impossible” -pepper

no avengering for you! pepper said no!!!!!!

disappointed but not surprised

iron man 3: y/n potts is put through the wringer

Text Message to Mr. Tony: bro you better come get your girl, me and happy are watching this other guy flirting with her. he’s showing her pics of his ‘big brain’

Mr. Tony: HE WHAT

Text Message to Mr. Tony: Tony he looks creepy i don’t want him to be my new stepdad do something!!!

anyways ur house kinda blew up and ur mom and you kinda got kidnapped and u were right abt that guy being creepy and thankfully no experiments were done on you but like your mom kinda almost died and her and tony were fine!!! all good in the end

you met mr. col. james rhodes that day

“aw, you’re the kid ive heard so much about” -rhodey

“you mean the coolest kid in the world?check.”

“you cant tell me you aren’t tony’s biological child, good god”

you got to meet the avengers later on too! (you’d already met natasha tho, only briefly)

“i know it can be a little overwhelming, right? meeting all these heros, legends even—” -rhodey

“oh, my god, is that thor? thor!!” -you, leaving rhodey in the dust

literally why does pepper trust you around tony something always goes wrong there were literally robots attacking, you were only at avengers tower bc your mom was busy with the company and she thought you’d be safe with the avengers. the AVENGERS.

“please dont tell your mom that i created a bad robot that tried to kill us. the robot will be the least of our problems” -tony

he made happy pick you up and you had to miss out on FUN and it sucked a lot

“it’s okay, y/n! i’m fun, too!” -happy

then your mom and tony took a break and your life got mega-boring for a while, but they weren’t separated for that long. you try not to think about it. it was brutal

Mr. Tony: Does she miss me?

New Message to Mr. Tony: I think so. Either that or she’s crying and drinking wine in the dark for no reason.

Mr. Tony: Damn it, now I feel bad. I miss her a lot. Oh, also, the Avengers say ‘hi,’ I’m in Germany with some bad news, I’ll explain later if you don’t see it on TV first, and I found you the perfect friend! His name is Peter and I think you’d like the school he goes to, it’s in Midtown. Smart kid school.

New Message to Mr. Tony: I’ll look into it, thanks. Also, I don’t like how those all connect. Please update me asap

watching the news to see several avengers arrested, cap on the run, and more!

“maybe it was good i didn’t fall in with the avengers”

tony and pepper finally got back together and you actually transferred to midtown high! peter and his friend group accepted you quickly, it was great. you and flash unfortunately had the most in common

you’d literally text happy right next to peter and he’d immediately reply to you. it hurt peter’s feelings

Momma: Sweetie! I’m working in the office late, leftovers are in the fridge, hope you have a wonderful day at school! 💕

👉👈the vulture tried to kill you for being tony’s stepkid, tony made peter promise to protect you

“y/n, you gotta stay out of harm’s way. mr. stark gave me an actual mission and it’s terrifying, i have to make sure you stay safe”

legit why the fuck was this old man tryna kill you bro grow up

anyyyywayssss your mom and tony got engaged!!

“wow, i thought the day would never come!!” -you

ppl told you tony isnt your stepdad bc ur mom and him werent married but who tf asked

why is the earth always in fucking danger

you and peter were just vibing on the field trip bus and all the sudden: space donut

“go! i’ll cover for you...FRIDAY, call tony”

“...hi there, little one”

“what the fuck”

“oh, so you see the aliens, too? well, at least im not crazy”

tony stark has left the atmosphere

you and your mom were kinda......not chillin tho

she and you didn’t sleep for a few nights, then ppl just straight up disappeared

plot twist: you survived the snap and your family was lucky to be alive, you even got a little sister who became a big handful!

only bad thing was all your friends dusted and you were pretty lonely

but watching morgan grow up kept you busy

“ahhh, shes so big!”

happy times in bad times

bad times!!!!! bc after five years thanos came back as thanos from like ten years ago. outdated thanos. obsolete thanos.

but you made your first and only appearance in the suit tony actually designed for you many years ago

you should have just stayed home tho bc that fight didnt pass the vibe check

“please dont tell me he...no, no, no, no, no”

you and your mom latched onto each other in tears, tony was one of the best people in your life, he made you and your mom two of the happiest people on earth

best stepdad a kid could ever ask for

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiantfavs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @ofthedewthesunlight //

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marchioness-caprina · 5 years ago

Text

I Deserve You

Pairings : Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

Writing Style : 3rd Person

Warnings : Mild Cussing

Word Count : 3091

3rd Person's POV

The Day of the School Festival, After stressful Days of practicing dance moves for the Preparation of Class 1-A's show everything was going smoothly. Everyone was having Fun And Y/n was too. She was playing the Violin while Bakugou played the Drums, Tokoyami and Denki with the guitar, Jiro and y/n also shared the vocals and Momo with the Keyboard.

Y/n was Having Fun seeing all her peers enjoying the show they put on but something was missing and she was desperately searching for a certain someone to watch the show. Mirio was there... But where was Tamaki?.

Y/n was having fun... Was... After finally confirming that Tamaki did not come to watch her mood immediately dampened.

She had been crushing on this 3rd year male from the very beginning and she did not try to hide it. In fact she would go try to catch him in any way, she'd flirt with him, court him, confess to him, give gifts to him but all the boy ever did was Shy away from her, he'd return her gifts and he'd even run away.

Even though y/n would either laugh it off or smile. It hurt pretty damn much. And now she was actually hoping he'd show up to atleast show that he cares but no he was not here.

Her heart dropped knowing fully well that he didn't care. And as their show finally ended. She had a blank expression plastered on her face making her classmates worry.

Because she was always expressive and smiling, her face always filled with emotions and her eyes lively and fiery. But now she looked different.

" Y/n-chan! Are you ok? " Mina was the first to ask and her classmates looked at her having the same question as the pink haired girl.

" Yeah I'm fine... I'm just tired " Y/n tried faking a smile but this time. It was too painful to do.

She was completely smitten for Tamaki.

" Bullshit, it's pretty clear that you aren't. And let's be honest here. When were you actually tired? Never. " Bakugou grumbled as y/n raised her brow gazing at the boy before shrugging her shoulders and walking away ignoring the calls of her classmates.

" Guys... Let's give her some time alone " That was the last comment she heard before she disappeared into the crowd.

She needed to get her mind off of things and what's the better way to do it than eating Takoyaki while watching the beauty pageant held by U.A.

Y/n was surprised to see Nejire senpai showing her talent , Nejire flying from above the ground. She looked beautiful but then y/n heard the familiar voice of the person she was searching for earlier.

" She looks like a fairy... Like this... So happy... And smiling brightly " Those exact words came from Tamaki who was standing beside her and she didn't notice.

Her eyes trailed up to Tamaki's eyed which were concentrated on Nejire's dancing figure and she couldn't believe it. The warmth and.... Love Tamaki's eyes showed while looking at Nejire was painful.

She wanted to do nothing but throw up all the food she consumed and bury herself under the ground. How could she be so blind? Of course Tamaki liked Nejire, He was close to her. They were friends while he and y/n are not, Nejire was powerful, Kind, Smart and very beautiful.

Y/n's heart felt like it had been stung by a thousand needles and she wanted to cry but somehow the tears refused to come out.

After a few moments of Tamaki looking at Nejire he felt someone looking at him and he tried looking around to see who it was and when his eyes landed on a pair of E/c orbs his heart jumped.

Oh no, is he gonna get jumped again by this clingy yet adorable Kohai?.

" Y-y-y/n! " Tamaki stammered jumping back as he strare back at y/n who gave him an unreadable expression.

He was expecting the usual, with y/n clinging onto him and flirting with him till his face turns as red as a tomato but to his shock she just turned around and left.

He was frozen in place. He couldn't comprehend what happened to that girl he began to feel anxious.

' Does she hate me?.... Shouldn't that be good she'll finally leave me alone... Wait someone hating me isn't good!... But.. Why am I so bothered by it? ' he silently thought to himself.

He watched the retreating figure of y/n and he suddenly had a powerful urge to grab her and pull her back .

Meanwhile, y/n who was walking away from the show was about to burst in tears but she slapped herself chanting more than a hundred times that she shouldn't cry.

So she stood strong and sucked it up. Wiping a small droplet of tears that was threatening to spill at any moment.

Maybe it's for the better. She'll find someone else... Hopefully. For now she should try to forget about him and move on. Act like she doesn't know him.

___________________

After that Day everything changed which got everyone questioning.

' What's wrong with y/n?'

She became a little distant and cold it was hard to believe but still, she did show unconditional care and love for her classmates but everyone couldn't help but worry since she never seemed to say anything and if one of them asked, she'd change the subject or walk away like she didn't hear anything.

What shocked them the most was how she had been Avoiding Their senpai, Tamaki like he was the plague or something. Usually she'd be seen hanging with them during lunch or walking with Tamaki during break time but now she isn't. During lunch she sat with the Izuku squad, when she passed by The Big three she'd either take a detour or pretend like she didn't see them in the first place.

Tamaki, Tamaki was conflicted, he was so confused, he felt like his heart was eating him up only to spit it out again, he felt like there was something gone something he longed, something he missed. And he knew it was y/n. He was gloomier than normal and Every time he sees y/n through the halls his heart swells up expecting her to run at him and hug him... Tell him she likes him but no. That's not what happened, what happened was that she avoided him , she ignored him and she pretended like she didn't know him.

And he never knew it hurt this bad he felt so upset he wanted to bang his head on the wall and cry his pain out.

What did he do wrong though?, what got her so worked up to treat him like this? that she made it so painful for him?. Didn't she say she loved him? Then where was all that affection now? Where was that attention she used to shower him with?. Where was his y/n? The one that loved him?.

Did she find someone else? Does she not want him anymore? Did she finally notice that He's not worth her time? Is she finally going to leave him?.

Is This how she felt when Tamaki ignored her? When he ran away from her because his heart couldn't handle so much love knowing he can't hold back for any longer and just kiss her. If this is how it felt like he didn't want it! He wanted her back.

Those negative thoughts were what occupied Tamaki's mind and he never noticed the small droplets of tears trailing down his cheeks that Made Mirio and Hado panic.

" What's wrong Amajiki? " Hado asked and Tamaki couldn't help but muttered his worries.

" .... She doesn't love me Anymore "

" You mean y/n? Nonsense she probably didn't notice you walking by" Mirio tried to comfort his friend but it was no use, He just wanted y/n back.

" For a whole month?.... She didn't notice us for a whole month? She never came to our classroom or ate with us anymore... She didn't wait or approach me down the halls. She didn't even spare me a glance " Tamaki muttered and Mirio was honestly surprised to hear his friend utter a sentence without Stuttering.

This was serious. And somehow they needed to fix this. For Tamaki.

______________

" Ok Class, We'll be training with the Big 3 for the next Week because they'll be grading you based on what they have observed " Aizawa sensei announced and the whole class was hyped. Well most of them.

There was a specific girl who did not appreciate this at all.

And she was y/n.

The big three were standing infront of them with Mirio and Nejire Flashing worried glances at Tamaki.

Tamaki had his eyes on y/n who refused to acknowledge his existence and it hurt so bad.

When she finally did look at him. For the first time in forever he actually had the courage to smile and wave at her but y/n kept a cold facade ignoring his wave and smile and all she did was look back to her side and ignore him.

That action was noticed by everyone in the room.

Even Aizawa sensei who usually acted tough and uncaring was worried for his student because she was acting really out of character.

He questioned her classmates about it and they started explaining what they had noticed and observed too and honestly he hated seeing even One of his children like this and on cue the big 3 but mostly Mirio and Nejire tried to convince him to let the three of them train his students but he knew fully well that it was so Y/n and Tamaki could interact.

He wasn't against the idea since he wanted the same y/n back also.

So he asked permission from principal Nezu who didn't mind the idea at all and it led to this .

" Now each member of the big three will be given an assistant and I'll personally be the one to assign them. Uraraka you'll be Nejire's assistant, Midoriya you'll be Mirio's and Amajiki your assistant will be Y/n--" Aizawa sensei was cut off by y/n who clearly didn't like the idea.

" What? No!... I mean... Pick another assistant... I'm not good at being One " Y/n knew her excuse was lame but that's the best she could do.

However, Her denial made Tamaki Dizzy with nervousness with all the insecurities coming back a pained expression painted on his face as he stared at y/n who stood her ground.

Mirio rubbed Tamaki's Back while whispering.

" It's gonna be ok. You still have a week "

" Well sorry but it's been decided. If you want to back out because you can't handle it then do it but you'll have a failing grade if you do " Aizawa didn't mean to threaten his student but this has gone far enough. She's turning into a cold heartless girl. And he didn't like that.

" Fine.... I'll Do it... " Y/n muttered looking down on her desk.

____________________

3 Days had passed and Tamaki was nowhere near successful. He never knew that y/n could be this cold. If he knew he would never have made her mad in the first place.

Her words stung and it hurt so much he had to hide in the bathroom for an hour to calm down and convince himself that it's fine and that she didn't mean it but she was brutal with her words.

She did a pretty good job not talking to him though and it was extremely hard to even get her to look at him.

He was starting to lose hope, he was planning on a hundred ways of apologizing but somehow none of them were ever successful.

He has two days left to find out and this time he was more than determined to do so.

Aizawa was kind enough to assign him and y/n to clean up the gym after training and still y/n didn't even talk to him. Not even once.

" Y-You K-know y-you're really pretty... Today " Tamaki complimented earning another cold silence from the girl.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He grabbed her arm, turned her around and clung onto her. His arms wrapping around her very being along with y/n's arms restraining her.

Y/n had no idea Tamaki was this strong... No wonder he's part of the big three but that isn't the point right now.

" Let me Go! " Y/n yelled as she began squirming.

" No! " Tamaki yelled back and that only made y/n more violent, wiggling and kicking as much as she could. She kinda felt bad when she heard Pained Grunt from Tamaki.

" D-Do... You Hate me that M-Much? W-what did I Do? " Tamaki's voice was hoarse and broken and then y/n noticed how he was looking at her with big eyes and there running down his cheeks.

" .... " She was speechless.

" Please Answer me... And... And... And I'll finally ... L-leave you alone " Tamaki practically begged as more tears spilled out of his eyes.

" ... Why are you doing this exactly? " Y/n asked and Tamaki slowly let go of her and he kneeled down on the ground unable to contain his emotions. The crippling anxiety attacks he had whenever he felt a powerful surge of emotions slap him the face.

" I-I Love you " He managed to choose out between sobs.

" Really? Don't you Like Nejire? When I was chasing you.. You ran away from me... On the School Festival... I was hoping you'd watch our show but you didn't... I looked for you everywhere and now you say that? Don't lie to me... I heard your comment about Nejire... You managed to watch her show but... Why not ours?.... " This time it was y/n's turn to have tears falling down her soft cheeks as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand to prevent any sobs to escape her lips.

" I d-d-don't like her like that! I thought I should be happy that you're gone but I'm not! I'm miserable! And that D-D-Day at the School festival.... I-I thought of you as a friend but it got me thinking... W-Why would I buy you a custom made bracelet if I only liked you as a friend!?... I didn't manage to watch the show because... I was working extra shift at F-Fatgum's stall to pay for the bracelet I b-bought you.... The reason why I stood beside you during the pageant was because I wanted to give it to you... But y-you walked away before I even had the chance to!... T-Then I finally understood my feelings... Why I made is much effort to design the bracelet myself and have it custom made... It was because I love you!... A-And you started avoiding.... M-M-Me... You started pushing me away and ignoring me... It hurts! It really hurts! I-I though you found someone else... I thought you thought I was pathetic! I t-thought you f-finally r-r-realized that you could do so much better at picking g-guys who aren't me... I had so much negative thoughts running through my head... B-Because I was so scared of l-losing you... " Tamaki forced himself to say how he really efly without stuttering but it was no use. He couldn't help it with all the sobs caught in his throat.

Y/n was speechless then her heart started clenching in pain, her heart dropped to her stomach seeing how much pain she caused him. Realizing How terrible she had been.

One time out of worry she actually went inside the boy's bathroom only to hear Tamaki hyperventilating inside. She was so worried she asked mirio to check on him.

She couldn't help the tears cascading out of her eyes that were red and puffy.

She looked down at Tamaki who was clutching his hand on his chest choking on his own sobs.

She felt so horrible. She sat down infront of him towards her and pressing her lips against his shutting him off. He sobbed in between the kiss but nonetheless he shyly kissed back with tears running down his face. The same with y/n who had tears on her eyes as well.

When she finally pulled back her forehead was pressed against his as she stared at him with loving eyes.

Those eyes.... He missed that... He craved that. The way she looked at him with so much love without judgement.

" You Dumbass.... I don't need a fancy Bracelet... I just wanted you... Nothing could compare to You.... Your simple presence is enough to make me happy... That day... I just wanted you.. And you should know that.... I love you... I'd pick you any day over some fancy bracelet " Y/n smiled and Tamaki who was rendered speechless at what she said crawled closer towards her to connect his lips with hers once again this time he had the courage to dominate the kiss.

He pulled back abruptly as he wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder .

" I-I just... W-Wanted you to see... I'm capable... Of giving you things other guys give their g-girlfriends... " Tamaki whispered making y/n chuckle.

" Really tamaki? I wouldn't pick some random rich bastard off the streets... I want my adorable elf boy " Y/n teased as she blew a puff of air against Tamaki's Ear making him shudder as he backed away. His face turning red.

" D-Don't T-Tease " He whimpered as he fished for something in his pocket.

And then he pulled out a Jade bracelet with y/n carved on it and surrounding it were small diamonds.

" Tama... You didn't have to... It's beautiful " Y/n muttered as Tamaki took her hand sliding the bracelet on her wrist.

" I... You deserve better " Tamaki mumbled.

" Yes I deserve better " Y/n stated and tamaki looked up at her his ears twitching in fear expecting her to take it off but instead she had her arms wrap around his neck giving him a peck on his lips.

" Because "

" I Deserve You "

#bnha x reader #BNHA Imagine #BNHA #MHA #Boku no hero academia #Tamaki x Reader #Tamaki Amajiki #Tamaki Amajiki x Reader #y/n #Tamaki Imagine

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ahkaahshi · 5 years ago

Text

stay here [iwaizumi hajime x reader]

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) and fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, a bit of dub-con (bc of the fact that alcohol was involved), alcohol consumption, swearing, brief mentions of toxic relationships

word count: 3.5k

overview: a post break-up night at the club with your best friend ends a bit differently than you’d expected

notes: a commission for the lovely @devlovesiwa-channn! sorry this took so long bb but I hope the wait was worth it! thanks for supporting me ily ❤️

The heavy bass pulsating through the club shakes every bone in your body as you sit at the bar, head propped up by your hand and fingers tapping against the side of your face to the beat of the song playing. From where he is beside you, Iwaizumi watches you breathe out another, long sigh with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oi,” he barks, drawing your (e/c) gaze to his dark one illuminated by the bright lights flashing from the ceiling, “Quit thinking about that jerk, would ya?”

With a roll of the eyes, you retort, “You say that like it’s so easy, Hajime. I did just get my heart broken not even a week ago.”

“And you say that like I’m clueless. Don’t forget who’s spent the past—what is it now? Five?—nights over at your place, watching movies with you and making sure you get to bed at a decent time.” His words elicit an immediate feeling of guilt that wells up inside your gut and makes you avert your gaze to search for the bartender who should be finishing up your drinks any moment now.

What he’d said was entirely true, and you knew it. Ever since you’d gotten out of a relationship earlier that week, you’d been a bit of an emotional wreck. Mountains of snack wrappers and tissues had already been piled up in the trash bin placed in your room when Iwaizumi had first showed up at your apartment after hearing about the news. He’d sat with you every evening this week, huddled beneath the covers of your bed or a pile of blankets on the couch while you’d switched between directing words seething with venom towards your ex and struggling to speak through sobs. He’d made sure that you’d eaten your meals, gone to bed at a decent hour, and had done everything in his power to be the friend you’d needed.

So, to even mention that you’d just endured a heartbreak like he had no idea about the situation was nothing less than a slap in the face to him—and you knew it. However, the noticeable discomfort written on your face has Iwaizumi shaking his head as if trying to negate the harshness of his statement.

“Hey,” he tries again in as soft a voice he can use when he’s having to compete with the music blaring, “all I’m saying is that I’ve seen the hell you’ve been put through because of that asshole, so I want you to be able to take your mind off of it for a bit and enjoy this night out, okay?”

You can’t help but chuckle in a way that reflects how jaded you feel by your predicament but shoot him a small smile anyway as you respond, “No promises.”

“We’ll see about that,” he challenges, a smirk flashing across his lips when the bartender sets down two shot glasses on the metal bar top before you. As if in synchronization, the two of you reach for your drinks at the same time and clink them together in a toast. “Here’s to a good night.”

After downing your shot, squeezing your eyes shut and taking a sharp inhale at the burning sensation of the alcohol traveling down your throat, you state, “Gonna need a few more before we get started with that.” Iwaizumi nearly chokes when you raise your hand to summon the bartender for an instant refill so you can tilt your head back once more to knock another one down. “What?” you question upon noticing his wary gaze, “You said you wanted me to have fun, didn’t you?”

“I’m not hauling your ass out of here if you get wasted, (f/n).”

“Guess our definitions of fun are a bit different, then.” He clenches his jaw and grunts with indignation at your response, and you laugh heartily at his annoyance, reaching over to graze the sleeve of his floral button-up shirt with your fingers. “I’m kidding! I promise I’ll stay conscious.” Another, louder murmur of disagreement that echoes from behind his pursed lips has you rolling your eyes and placing both your hands on his muscular shoulders. “Learn how to take a joke, would ya?”

He huffs, “It’d be easier to if what you’d just said hadn’t actually happened before.”

Sighing, you move your grip from his shoulders to the hem of your skirt, holding it down as you hop off the barstool. “Well, if I have to choose between sitting here, recounting my unfortunate run-ins with alcohol or dancing to this mediocre song, I think I’m gonna head to the dance floor.” After attempting to give your friend money for the drinks that he refuses out of kindness, since your plans for the evening had been made by him to begin with, you offer, “You know where to find me,” before making your way through the throngs of clubbers to the dance floor at the other end of the venue.

Iwaizumi shakes his head as he watches your figure disappear in amongst the sea of people and turns his attention to the empty shot glass he’s taken to tracing his fingers along pensively. As much as he wants to ignore the thoughts that have a habit of returning each time he sees you fall out of love with someone else, he can’t seem to rid himself of them—of the idea that maybe, just maybe, things would be different if you were with him instead. All this time, he’d been sitting on the sidelines, forced to play spectator in the games that other men seemed to enjoy playing with your heart while knowing damn well he would treat you with the respect you deserved.

It makes him a bit angry for you, actually, the way others haven’t known what to do with your heart after you’ve given it to them. He knows better than most that you can’t help who you choose to fall in love with—since he’s felt a natural affinity towards you since the first moment he met you—yet he can’t help but hope, after each of your breakups, that you give him a chance with your heart instead. However, out of respect for you, since you haven’t given him any indications that you might return his feelings, he’s kept quiet and maintained your close friendship.

The nagging thoughts persist, and each time, he shoves them into the darkest corner of his mind so he can help you pick up the pieces of your heart after another man drops it.

But they return when he eventually ventures out to the dance floor to find you after you’d returned to the bar for another round of shots to fuel your agenda of forgetting about your ex and sauntered away once more. Navigating through the waves of gyrating bodies finally brings him within a few feet’s distance of where you stand, swaying along to the music without a care in the world.

As he watches you with the same admiration he would give the only twinkling star in a dark, nighttime sky, he wonders how your former boyfriend could’ve ever thought to treat you the way he had—with such blatant disregard for your feelings. Anyone who tried to dim your light wasn’t the one for you, and now all he wants is for you to shine brighter than you had before. Whether or not you do so for him doesn’t matter in his eyes. He just wants to see your radiance and happiness return.

Just as he’s about to approach you so he can join in on the fun, the song changes into one he knows well—because it’s your favorite. He can’t count the number of times he’s listened to you belt out the lyrics while driving or caught glimpses of you performing bits of the choreographed routine you must’ve created whenever you hear it played in a public setting, but what he sees unfold before him this time is entirely different to anything he’s witnessed before.

Even if he didn’t want to look, it’s impossible to ignore you when the thin veil of sweat over your skin makes you shine under the bright, multicolored lights in a dazzling display as you move to the beat. With the way your body’s undulating in cadence with the music, a seductive look on your face while your hands run from your torso down to your thighs, you’ve attracted more than a few hungry gazes. But his is the only one that you meet with your own, silently beckoning him over to you moments before you lift a finger to summon him in a request to join you. His feet carry him across the distance separating the two of you without a second thought.

There’s a gentle, somewhat amused smile on his face at seeing you finally letting loose, but it soon becomes much more serious when he feels your fingers clench around the fabric of his shirt. The space around you is hot and charged, and you’re barely able to tell one direction from the other with the way your head’s spinning in a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, but you know exactly what you’re doing. The heat of his body radiates onto your hands as you run them along his toned torso while singing along to the song’s lyrics, and you relish in the way his dark eyes are traveling along every inch of your skin.

When your hands reach his, you turn your back towards him and place his palms on both sides of your waist. Feeling his hold on you tighten and strong fingers pressing against your skin spurs you to grind your hips against him slowly in an attempt at testing the waters. He encourages your actions by pulling you closer to him and moving in synchronization with you. His acceptance and reciprocation of your invitation has heat pooling in your stomach and your heart fluttering in your chest.

The way your bodies as one, like they’ve been created to fit perfectly together in this moment has any restraint you would’ve normally shown evaporating completely. In your mind, you only want him. You’ve known that. You’ve known that for so long, yet you’d been out chasing down other men who’d inevitably become the sources of your heartaches. Now, you think it’s high time you finally go after who it is you’ve truly been yearning for in silence for far too long.

Once a change in the song brings an end to your fairly explicit dancing, you turn to face him again, (e/c) eyes drifting from his own down to his lips as your hands instinctively find his arms to steady yourself in amongst all the movement surrounding you. He seems to hesitate for a moment, since the two of you stand and stare at each other in silence despite the bass sending vibrations through your chests, but he eventually finds the courage to act on his desires. In an instant, his large hand is moving to cup your face and bring it closer to his so he can press a strong kiss against your lips.

A mixture of exhaustion and utter euphoria knocks the wind out of your lungs, sending soft pants tumbling out of your mouth when he finally breaks the kiss. “Hajime…” you utter, voice barely audible above the vocals bouncing off every surface of the club’s interior.

The distinct scent of alcohol taints the breath that fans across your face when he asks, “Yeah?”

“I want you. I want you so badly. Please.” The confession falls off your lips with such ease that you question why you haven’t been able to say it all this time.

A curse word escapes his mouth in a gentle whisper, and you can feel his hard-on against your body when he pulls you in for another heated kiss. “Wanna get out of here?” he wonders. Your enthusiastic nod forms a smile across his lips, and his arm is wrapping around your waist to safely guide you through the crowds so he can sort out a ride home.

What happens next all feels like a blur to you, since all you can think about the entire car ride back is having Iwaizumi’s hands all over your body the moment you get to your doorstep. It appears you’re not the only one who’s impatient, since he’s caging you against the wall in the entryway with his body moments after you’ve kicked off your shoes and locking lips with you once more. The combination of the booze and the pleasure is making your head spin, but you’re able to take his hand and pull him into the bedroom with you so your back can be against the mattress instead.

The strong, passionate nature of his sloppy, open-mouthed kisses serves as a telltale sign of how long he’s been waiting to experience such an intimate moment with you. All along, he’d thought he would want to take his time in this situation—trailing gentle kisses across every inch of your skin and making sure no part of you is left needing his tender but firm touch. However, in the heat of the moment, he’s quick to abandon any ideals of a slower pace, intent on ravishing you.

Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt so you can push it off his broad shoulders as his hands work on yanking off your little clubbing outfit. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest with excitement at the new, uncharted territory you’re both delving into together. For the first time in the many years you’ve known one another, you’re seeing each other at your most vulnerable states.

A gentle moan sounds from your throat at the feeling of his fingers traveling between your legs so they can slide along the saturated fabric covering your slit. Wrapping your arms around his back and pulling him closer to you, you bring your hot bodies flush against one another so you can taste more of the alcohol lingering on his tongue. He swallows another whimper you release when his fingers shove your panties aside so they can toy with your sensitive clit. The sharp sensation of your fingernails pressing into his skin makes him grunt gently, but also sends a rush through him like a buzz of electricity.

“That feel good?” he murmurs, his deep voice prompting your walls to clamp around his thick fingers as he pushes them inside of you.

Hips bucking at his thumb stroking your pearl and legs already shaking from just how mesmerizing his touch is alone, you nod in response and breathe, “So good.” His lips return to yours for another kiss before forming a smile as they press against your jawline, neck, and collarbone, slowly making their way down towards your breasts. Feeling his tongue drag across one of your hardened nipples has you crying out softly as your hands fly to his head, fingers carding through his dark hair.

The delicacy with which he’s sucking on your pebbled bud sharply contrasts the fast, fervent motions of his fingers thrusting into your warm, wet core, edging closer and closer to your sweet spot each time.

“H-Hajime!” Your voice shudders when his name tumbles off your tongue. “Want you inside of me… please, baby.”

Hearing your voice become so needy and desperate as you beg has him groaning against your skin. “Wanna cum all over my cock, princess?” he suggests lowly, moving his head away from your breasts so he can look down at your eyes clouded with lust.

Your heart skips a beat at the name he calls you in jest being used in this situation instead, and you gaze up at him with a mixture of awe and affection burning in your chest until your mouth falls open again at his fingers kneading your sweet spot. You moan loudly in place of the words you’d meant to say, but continue once you take a breath, “Yes! Please, fill me up!”

The way you sound makes him want to do anything for you, and he withdraws his fingers from inside your core so he can unbuckle his belt and push his pants down. Your eyes widen at the sight of his large dick adorned with beads of precum, which he notices and acknowledges by rubbing soothing circles on your thighs while he rids you of your soaked underwear and spreads your legs further apart so he can slot his torso between them. “You can take me, baby; I know you can,” he reassures you in between gentle pecks to your lips.

You hum in agreement, your gaze focusing on his as he aligns his leaking cockhead with your entrance and pushes inside you slowly, stretching your walls in a way that sends currents of both pain and pleasure shooting through your body. He groans, “Oh, fuck; you feel so good,” while your pussy swallows him inch by inch until he’s fully sheathed inside your inviting warmth. He starts with a slower pace than expected given how quickly he was thrusting his fingers into you just moments earlier, rocking his hips against yours and nudging your cervix.

“Faster, Hajime, please,” you beg breathlessly, “I need you.”

A particularly hard thrust he can’t hold back at hearing your request has you mewling with both surprise and satisfaction. “I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he growls, heavy breaths falling onto your ear as he picks up his pace and intensity, filling your stomach with a familiar warmth, “Gonna be the best you’ve ever had.”

His strong hand gripping your hip, lifting you up slightly to meet the angle of his precise thrusts—despite the animalistic desire that’s overcome him—has your legs trembling where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sound of his skin smacking against yours is barely audible above your own moans mingling with his loud grunts. All you can feel is him. Every inch of his body, every ridge of each muscle beneath his hot skin, and every ragged sigh that fans over your neck. He’s all you want, and you can’t help but voice your desires over and over again in the form of his name.

“H-Hajime, I’m gonna cum!” you squeal when he starts drilling deeper inside of you, sending waves of pleasure flowing over your body with each thrust. Your toes are curling, your heart’s racing, every muscle in your body’s tensing as you dangle on the edge of your orgasm—so tantalizingly close to coming undone.

He seems to know what you need to reach the state of euphoria you’re craving, since he pulls out of you to flip you over onto your stomach. The room tilts around you ever so slightly at the sudden change in orientation, but your head drops to the comforter when he pulls your hips up towards his and slams into from behind instead. More feverish sounds of pleasure and begs of “Don’t stop!” leave your mouth unabashedly when the sensations overwhelming you slacken your jaw and create white spots in your vision.

“That’s it!” Iwaizumi hisses as your pussy spasms around him and you cry out his name in the heat of your orgasm, “Fuck, baby; you’re gonna make me cum.”

Your velvety walls clenching around his dick so affectionately and your hips thrashing against his as you ride out your high has him reaching his as well moments later, and he releases inside of you, filling you to the brim with warmth. His hands on your hips keep them in place while he finishes, and he remains inside of you a few seconds afterwards before pulling out and lying down on the bed beside you.

“Fuck…” you sigh as your chest rises and falls with deep breaths. The exasperated tone in your voice causes worry to bubble in Iwaizumi’s chest for a brief moment until you turn to regard him with a bright smile. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Glad you feel that way too,” is his response delivered with a chuckle.

In the darkness only interrupted by pale shards of moonlight seeping in between the blinds, your hand finds his face so you can tilt it towards yours and press another, tender kiss against his lips. “I’m sorry,” you whisper even though your mouths are still connected.

“Why?” His fingers brush your hair away from your face on their way to rest at the nape of your neck.

“Because I should’ve been with you all this time and not those other losers.” There’s a short pause, bathing the room in silence save for the beating of your heart against your ribcage. “I love you, Hajime—and I have loved you—but I’ve just been running away because I’m scared of ruining things like I have with other guys.”

The warmth his lips spread over your body when they return to yours puts you at ease, as does his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“I love you too, (f/n),” he confesses, pecking the crown of your head, “So how about you stop running and stay here with me, hmm?”

Nestling your face against the crook of his neck and taking a deep breath, you sigh, “That’s all I want.”

masterlist ⭐︎ treat me to a coffee!

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesiwa-channn, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki, @dominikmagnus, @yamagucji

iwaizumi: @misora-msby,@lotsoffandomrecs, @tsumue, @heyhinata, @cuddlysoftbear

#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #tw alcohol #tw dubcon #ahkaahshi gets wild #fran writes hq!!

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zevlors-tail · 5 years ago

Note

Jfc i am nervou s

Thirsty thursday?? Im in

Ok but imagine izuku being HELLA pent up for months and female!reader knows this but want to see him at his breakpoint and end up in like

A m e s s

God i can only imAGINE how riled up he'll get ,_,

Oooohhhh man. Don’t push the green bean, anon. He’s already so frustrated...

I wrote this while listening to “Edge of Heaven” by Breathe Carolina if you want to experience what I did lol. I’ve fucking ascended after writing this. Only Dom!Deku exists in my brain right now. That’s it. Head empty, one thought: Dom!Deku.

If there was one thing Izuku Midoriya hated more than spending time away from you, it was spending time away from you because of stupid fucking steak outs that got him nowhere in the end. A month. A whole month he spent away from you; a month away from your love, a month away from your care, a month away from your touch. The two of you hadn’t done much in terms of intimacy in the weeks leading up to his time away either...mostly because neither of you had the time. You worked a small 9-5 job on the side, and with his hero work being so prominent in his life, the two of you sometimes found it hard to get any alone time.

So maybe that’s why, when he came back from work that night in a terrible mood, you felt the need to push his buttons. Maybe you knew he was pent up. Maybe you knew he was frustrated. Maybe you just wanted to get a rise out of him, or maybe you found it fun. Whatever the reason, you’d went and done it alright. You acted like an outright brat, teased him, picked a trivial argument with him, and then left him high and dry- or, at least you tried to. Deku was having none of that.

“You know what? I’m tired, I’m going to fucking bed. So much for the new lingerie I bought...” You pushed yourself up and off the couch and sauntered towards the bedroom, swaying your hips a little on purpose just to prove a point. Izuku stared at you the whole time, eyes narrowing and following your form to the entryway of the bedroom. While you did feel bad for your pent up boyfriend, you’d missed him a lot over the last month, and he’d only called a handful of times while he was away. You understood steak outs were tricky, sure, but you felt neglected and pent up too.

“New linger- what!? Y/N, that’s not fair!” He threw his arms up in the air before pulling at his hair in frustration, a dangerous glint shining in his eyes.

“Not fair? You left me alone for a month and barely called, how is that fair, huh!?”

There was a short lived moment of silence before he closed the small distance between the two of you within a couple strides, and the next thing you knew your legs were hitting the back of the bed as he hungrily kissed down your neck, hands wandering to the hem of your shirt and slipping underneath. You moaned as he pushed you down onto the bed and toppled on to you, his hands cupping your breasts and giving a harsh squeeze.

“You know, if you wanted me to rail you to the high heavens, Y/N, all you had to do was fucking ask.”

The smoldering look he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. It only takes him a matter of seconds to strip both of you of your clothes, and then he’s going straight for what he wants without any shame. Both of you are pent up, both frustrated, both aching just to touch each other and consume each other. He finds his place atop you, straddles your waist with his legs as he gathers both of your smaller wrists in his one giant hand and pins them above your head. His other hand kneads and massages at one of your breasts as he watches you squirm underneath him, and all he does is smirk down at you when you beg him for more. Sure, he’ll give it to you, but not until you’ve suffered a little like he has. Sadist? No. A tease? Absolutely.

“Izuku, stop teasing!” you whine out.

“Oh? I thought you wanted to be teased. You were acting like such a brat earlier,” he taunts. He pinches a nipple between his fingers and rolls it softly earning a pretty sound from you. He’d do anything just to hear it again.

“Because I missed you!” You can’t help but cry out in desperation, the truth finally bubbling to the surface under his rough treatment.

Your words pull on his heartstrings and light a fire in him all the same. He feels some of the stress of his month long mission start to melt away, and in it’s place is burning desire. He needs you. Now.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his hand squeezing tighter against your wrists. The hand groping your chest drifts down to your heat, fingers ghosting over your stomach lightly before gliding over your folds to feel how wet you are. A single digit presses against your entrance, and you buck your hips up to get friction as he dips a finger in and starts to slowly pump. “You missed me, huh? Did you miss my fingers too?”

“A-All of you, Izu! Mmn!”

His finger disappears almost as quick as it came, but he doesn’t give you the opportunity to complain about it before he’s lining his hips with yours and sinking his cock into you. His movements are needy, impatient as he circles his hips against you, but you’re already sopping wet and squeezing against him, the feel of him inside you almost a deliriously good feeling after going without for so long. You move against him and let out a low whine, and that’s all it takes for him to start pounding into you with no remorse.

“So tight, ngh!”

“Ahha!”

He growls, his huge shoulders looming over you as you bounce against every thrust. He feels so good, too good, and yet it’s still not enough- you still need more.

“Fuck, ‘Zuku...harder, damn it! Hah-! W-Want...!”

“You want it? Oh, I’ll fucking give it to you, I’ll give it to you so goddamn good-” Utter filth starts to leave his mouth as he pushes you farther down against the bed with his free hand and drills into you. His pace quickens, thrusts becoming more erratic as you try to push back against him. But he holds you still, and you can’t do anything but twist under him and wish you could move. You supposed this might be punishment for acting bratty earlier. If that was the case, then you might have to act like a brat more often.

The familiar sensation of a coil tightening in your stomach had you whining and writhing under your partner, blood boiling under your skin and thrumming in your ears as he pounded into you relentlessly. Behind the both of you, the headboard banged against the wall over and over again, small dents forming from the impact. Not that either of you noticed.

“Touch me, please!” you cried suddenly, both your hands struggling against his one. All you needed was a little push, something to get you over the edge. You were well on your way there already, but you wanted it now, needed the blinding white hot sensation of pleasure you knew he could give you. Izuku refused to let your hands go, however.

“No,” he growled, and you sobbed in frustration as you felt your walls start to clench around him. “Wanna make you cum with my cock...”

“Please!” you begged.

“I. Said. No!” He punctuated each of his words with an exceptionally rough thrust of his cock, each time brushing closer against your g-spot.

Moans and sobs left your lips as you felt yourself grow closer to release every time Izuku pulled out, only to plunge right back in with fervor. Finally, as you felt yourself start to shake underneath him, he let his grip on your wrists go, his hands moving to grasp your hips instead and lift them up off the bed.

“Izu, what-” You were confused for a moment before he resumed pounding into you, each time pulling you flush against his thrusts by the hips to drive his cock deep into you and hit your g-spot repeatedly. “HAAH!”

“Fuck! So good...Y/N! Gonna give it to you, gonna give it to you so- hn! Hard!”

The coil inside you snapped suddenly, and you lost your breath as Izuku fucked you senseless, cock pummeling your insides while you breathlessly convulsed under him and came. You tried to say something, tried to sing him praises, but the words died on your lips, and the only thing that left your mouth was a small string of drool as your head lolled back onto the pillow. Finally you found purchase in the syllables of his name.

“I...Izuku...”

“Hngh, need to cum! Gonna...! Y/N!” His thrusts turned sloppy as you clamped down on him harder, fluids streaming down your legs and onto the sheets below. You felt a warm sensation wash over you as he came, and the both of you lost your senses for a moment as he slowed to a stop, his hips grinding gently against yours to ride out the aftershock.

You couldn’t help but think that if this was how he was going to react when you riled him up...maybe you should act like a brat more often.

#deku x reader #izuku x reader #izuku #deku #thirsty thursday #sweater is thirsty #thirsty on main #anon #aonymous #dom!deku #not/sfw

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bagelbright-tok · 4 years ago

Text

Aspire To be

Hi honey!! I saw that your request were open and I had an idea. I really liked the imagine about Malcolm Bright and having an aunt. I was wondering if you could do more of that, but maybe this time Malcolm does know her and they actually like each other and maybe she helps him on a case instead or with Martin? If not it’s completely okay, I love your work tho!! Thanks sweets ❤❤

Requested By: @atjafshelby

A/N: Thank you so much for your support! I really appreciate your comments and request! That aunt fiction is one of my least popular fics. I hardly expected anyone to enjoy it and even be inspired by it! Again, thank you! I decided to do a similar thing I did for that last imagine. This is a one-shot and does not really correlate with any other Prodigal Son episode. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for your patience as well! I apologize if it seems sloppy at the end. I just wanted to get this out for you and tended to get sidetracked. _

Finally getting themselves a line of suspects for this crime, Malcolm realizes he might need more than his own profiling skills. Malcolm also has a person in mind who could help… Gil doesn’t agree with Malcolm’s decision, especially when the profiler’s mind has been altered recently. How could Malcolm Bright not go to the person that inspired him?

Malcolm Bright/Whitly x Aunt!Reader [Platonic]

Word Count: 3289 Warning(s): Mentions of murder, mind fog, insomnia, mentions of trauma, attempted murder, drug abuse, swearing, did not double check anything __

Some Good Things in Life __

“Whaddya got kid?” Gil nodded towards Malcolm, hands on hip, and a grin plastered on his already smug face. Gil was already confident in Malcolm’s ability. This would be a piece of cake for the profiler.

Malcolm shook his head. He was confused. This murder took two weeks to have suspects. Even then, they only had four suspects. There was something wrong, though. Malcolm couldn’t get a read on any of them. Their tones and words led Malcolm to many different directions. Malcolm also did not have the right state of mind, having skipped almost a week’s worth of sleep. “Nothing..”

Even he was surprised by his incompetence.

Gil lightly extended his head out towards Malcolm, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What?” He crossed his arms and returned his head to his shoulders. Gil’s eyebrows were now knitted together in concern and were no longer widened. “What do you mean?”

“I… I can’t get a read on them.” Malcolm finally admitted, his shoulders falling down in defeat. He left out a deep sigh and brought his hands to his eyes to rub. Why couldn’t he think straight? “It’s like my mind is just- just covered in fog.” Malcolm motioned to his head, wildly using his index of his right hand to press into his temple.

Gil sighed, looked down at the floor, and unfolded his arms. Taking a few steps towards the NYPD Profiler, Gil placed his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Go home, kid. It’s late and you need to sleep.” Gil was always the father figure that Malcolm needed. Malcolm understood the lieutenant’s concern, but couldn’t help not sleeping. Especially as of late.

Malcolm couldn’t say no. He shrugged his shoulder and peered into Gil’s eyes with his own tired and hazy blue ones. He nodded lightly, closing his mouth and shaping it into a half smile. “Alright..”

*** And with that, the insomniac ventured restlessly to his humble abode. Despite his hazy mind, he drove himself back to his place. On the way over, going through New York’s evening traffic, Malcolm had an idea. Recklessly, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he reached who he wanted. Tapping and putting the phone up to his ear, waiting for them to answer, he shook his leg anxiously. “Hello?” The voice came through, asking curiously.

“Hey! Long time no talk.” Malcolm was smiling, but the person on the other end couldn’t possibly see it. However, it was obvious that they could hear his happiness to be talking to them. “Malcolm? Hey! Where the hell did you disappear to?” They chuckled. “Thought there was a new Bermuda triangle only taking the cool people.” They stated sarcastically.

Malcolm laughed at their joke, shaking his head. “No. I actually got back in New York a couple of weeks ago. Sorry I forgot to tell you.” Malcolm cleared his throat and before the person on the other end of the call could respond, he continued. “Anyways, I could use some help…” “O-Oh? Help? Of course, what do you need?” Malcolm could hear them move from one spot to another. “Some… Some advice. You are still a body language specialist, right?” “Yeah. Need me to do some interrogating?” They chuckled, joking.

“Uh- Yes. Yes, actually..”

“Oh-”

“Could you meet me at my place? I’ll send you the address. If you get there before me, you can let yourself in. There’s a spare key buried in the plant outside.” Malcolm explained, stopping at yet another red light. Traffic had been bad due to another accident happening nearby.

“Of course!” It was obvious that Malcolm and this person were besties and hadn’t encountered one another in a long while. “I’ll get my bag and head out once I have the address.” “Thank you, so much. I’ll see you in a bit.” Malcolm gave a quite breathy chuckle. “Cya!” And with that, the call ended. Malcolm felt a little better. His mood improved, for sure. Malcolm’s shoulders were no longer held up but instead were slouched down. His neutral and tired face was now a happier tired face. Malcolm took note of how he would just have to tell Gil when he got home that he’d be getting some help. Help from someone they both knew. ***

Damn this headache. Malcolm could feel a dull pain in his head as he entered his home. Despite the pain being dull, he felt it making him weaker and even slightly dizzy. Malcolm simply shook the pain away and shut the door behind him. He tried to reach the door, but couldn’t. When he looked behind himself to see why, the door was already shut. His eyes burrowed in confusion. Again, he shook away the confusion and began to text Gil about what he was doing. Now, though, Malcolm couldn’t just shake off whatever was happening to him. He felt nauseous and he felt out of breath. He tried getting back to his phone to call Gil instead. Malcolm instead found that his vision had blurred. He blinked and blinked, even rubbed his eyes, but his blurred vision only got worse. He began to panic now. Something was definitely wrong. Malcolm tried to identify what could be going on, but still, his mind was elsewhere. Malcolm could barely even hear as someone entered his home.

“Malcolm?” The familiar voice could barely be heard as it echoed in his house and in his head. “Malcolm!”

This exclamatory statement of his name was not that of excitement. It was of concern, confusion, and despair. As far as Malcolm knew, he was standing. As far as his visitor was concerned, he was on the ground, unconscious. ***

“What did you do?” Gil asked angrily and accusatorily. He pointed at [Y/N], who responded by leaning back away from his finger. “Me?! Excuse you. I called an ambulance! Maybe next time, I shouldn’t?” [Y/N] argued back, leaning forward into Gil’s finger and raising her hands to her sides, palms up and fingers spread out. Her face was scrunched with anger. Her usual glowing and calm [E/C] orbs were now burning a hole into Gil. Her graying [H/C] hair was standing up due to the sheer frustration she was feeling. This wouldn’t be the first time someone accused her of something horrific due to her past. [Y/N] Bright [L/N]. Also known as [Y/N] Whitly, younger sister to Dr. Martin Whitly. In other words, Malcolm’s favorite aunt and the individual he had called for help in the case. The lady that had found him unconscious in his own home and called authorities. It was because of [Y/N] that Malcolm was in a hospital and not dead. It wasn’t just Gil there for Malcolm, there was also Jessica and Ainsley. Jessica had refused to talk to [Y/N], she never understood how or why Malcolm had taken a favorability to her. Ainsley wasn’t anything but rude to her, and made it clear she did not like her. Summary; All of [Y/N]’s fans were gathered in one place where they were called in an emergency because someone dear to them had almost died. “What were you even doing in Malcolm’s place?” Ainsley’s hollow eyes stared at [Y/N] with pure hatred. Like someone with unlimited darts, trying to get a high score.

“He called me to come over. Sent me his address and told me about the spare key in some weird ass plant outside his place.” [Y/N] swiftly explained herself, keeping her arms open. Her feet however, were closed and pointing away from both Gil and Ainsley. She really did not want to be there, being questioned. “He wanted me to help with some interrogating.”

“You-?” Gil erected his index again at [Y/N], now eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re the help Malcolm called for?” “Why would anyone go to you for help?” “I feel extremely uncomfortable right now!” [Y/N] declared, slapping her hands down to her sides. “I am just here to help with whatever Malcolm needs!” “Just drop it you three!” Jessica finally whisper yelled at them. “My son could have died and you are worried about-.. Her.”

The disdain in her voice as she referred to [Y/N] really set it in for the body language specialist. Nothing she could say would make them think any better of her. Not even if Malcolm were to explain the same thing she did. So, [Y/N] easily decided it would be easier to just sit down and give up the arguing. She felt like a kid once again, forced to keep quiet when faced with authority. She hated it. Gil would never allow for her to help unless Malcolm really made a good pitch to the lieutenant. Then again, when would Malcolm wake up? *** Malcolm was given a diagnosis fairly quickly. Carbon Monoxide poisoning that had been going on for over a week. It was a miracle he had gone so long without anyone noticing the symptoms. Despite the supposed long sleep he was to be put under, Malcolm found a way to wake himself up with his own brain. Waking up with a loud scream as a nurse ran out to get a doctor, and Gil and [Y/N] rushed in with concern. “Malcolm!” Both older individuals shouted at the once unconscious profiler. While the relief was mutual, so was the concern.

“Gil? [Y/N]? Where am I? What happened? How-” Malcolm was confused but mostly scared as well. One moment he was home and the next he was isolated by white walls and repetitive beeping.

[Y/N] made the first move. She steadily and smoothly moved closer to Malcolm’s bedside. She took a deep and obvious breath, straightening her back and lifting her hands with her as she inhaled. A similar action was taken during the exhale; obvious, she lowered herself back onto her feet, and lowered her hands. Although Malcolm was not having a panic attack, it could escalate and [Y/N] wasn’t having it. Gil followed afterwards. Malcolm mimicked [Y/N] in taking deep breaths and calming down. “Are you okay, Malcolm?” [Y/N] asked in a calmer voice.

“Yeah. I mean, I feel okay.” Malcolm buried his face into his hands. “Was I poisoned?”

With his brain working fine, he was able to remember his symptoms. It was unnatural.

“Yeah, in a sense.” Gil responded this time. “A week long exposure to carbon monoxide.”

“A week?” Malcolm removed his hands from his face and peered at Gil and [Y/N]. “Isn’t that around the time this case started?”

Now both Gil and [Y/N] were horrified. What was thought to be an accident, a simple leak in the home, now was a potential case of attempted murder. Whoever was the murderer in their case, knew Malcolm would be a problem and so tried removing him as an obstacle. [Y/N] and Gil took a glance at each other. Despite their… awkward relationship, they knew they had to work together on this one. Malcolm couldn’t leave the hospital, and couldn’t work on the case. His life was in danger and the safest place would be where he was.

***

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you.” Gil told [Y/N] with a threatening tone.

“Why not two?” [Y/N] chuckled, entering the observation room sat right next to the interview room. Gil just gave a harsh squint. “Not a time for jokes, got it.”

“It was hard to get the suspects back. We’d released them last night because we had them held for too long.” Gil changed the subject swiftly, viewing into the room where they had the suspects. “We were only able to get them back in because Malcolm almost died last night, when he released them all.”

“It’s clear that all of them are upset that they are back. No profiling is needed for that.” [Y/N] noted this behaviour. “All of them are anxious and nervous. Crossed arms, tapping feet, rapid blinking.”

“All of them are suspicious?” Gil pondered curiously.

“Not necessarily. They are just nervous about being back. The idea of being falsely accused looms over them.” [Y/N] continued to scan the room, finally noticing some odd behaviour. She pointed at a man slightly separated from everyone else. “He, however, is a lot more confident than everyone else.”

“His arms are crossed too.” Gil pointed out, looking at [Y/N] with suspicion.

“Yes, but he is leaning against the wall. He is more relaxed. His lips are slightly parted, unlike everyone else’s compressed or pursed lips.” [Y/N] began her analyzing out loud, forgetting anyone was in the room. “His breathing patterns are very alike to everyone’s. Their breathings are picked up due to their nervousness. His picked up pace is because of excitement, though.”

“He’s leaning against a wall. How in the hell did you get all of that off of him?” Gil was just as curious as he would be if it were Malcolm profiling. It was just as mind boggling as when he profiled Carter Berkhead.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, Gil.” [Y/N] chuckled. “Was Malcolm in the interrogation room when they were all interrogated?”

“Yeah. He wanted to be close to profile.” Gil answered, not as confused now knowing that every question and answer would help.

“Splendid. This will make it far easier.” [Y/N]’s [E/C] orbs glimmered in amusement. Her smile was one that Gil had seen before. It was Malcolm’s smile, but it was one he’d seen on Martin’s face too. “I need you to repeat what you did yesterday. Question them in the same order with the same questions.”

Gil nodded. Just as he was warming up to her, some thought came in and set him back to his place. First and foremost, officers came and rounded everyone up. The interrogation began again. This time, it was just Dani, JT, and Gil. Malcolm wasn’t there. If [Y/N] was correct, the one she was suspect of most would give off more of a reaction than the others. Answers would likely remain the same from each person as well. They all want to get out as soon as possible. If Malcolm’s current profile was correct, the killer was arrogant and would show it. If the killer saw that Malcolm wasn’t there, they’d have some sort of mention or bodily reaction to this.

In the case scenario that she was wrong, [Y/N] was sure to make note of everyone’s reactions. Most did not even acknowledge Malcolm’s absence. Their moods had remained the same, anxious and nervous. Finally, it came to the man that [Y/N] came to know as James Lukai. Most of his answers remain the same, worded slightly different than before. [Y/N] compared his last interview, to this interview. The first showcased this man as nervous and anxious. Now, he wasn’t as much anymore. He looked around, as if to make sure his suspicions were right. He gave a quick smirk when he saw that Malcolm wasn’t there. His answers had remained mostly the same, but the tone had drastically changed. It was clear as night and day, it was this man. Just to prove a point further, [Y/N] straightened herself out and left the observation room. Much to Gil’s dismay, she entered the interrogation room afterwards.

“Heya Gil! Sorry I’m late. The call to replace Malcolm was just too soon!” [Y/N] announced with a large grin on her face.

Gil looked at [Y/N], only to respond by rubbing his face. “Don’t let it happen again.” He played along.

The man in question- James- was now shocked. “I thought you didn’t have a profiler anymore.”

“And what would make you say that, James?” [Y/N] immediately jumped on it. “Malcolm is just taking a little break. Family business.”

“What? He-?” James caught himself before he could say anything more.

“You’re too obvious, James.” [Y/N]’s smile immediately dropped.

“What’re you doing, [Y/N]” Gil questioned, only to get an answer through the raising of the lady’s hand to silence him.

“Want to know how we know, James?” [Y/N] confidently asked, not waiting a moment for his answer. “You are far too confident for this. You thought you had gotten rid of Malcolm, the only one who would have caught you.”

The man was speechless. He was caught. He rested his elbows on the table and put his hands through his brown hair. He was hunched, unsure of what to say now.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Gil wasn’t angry, but just extremely confused.

“Caught the bad guy. My job, Gil.” As confident as before, she exited the room.

Soon after, James confessed to the murders and the attempt on Malcolm’s life. Another day saved by [Y/N] Bright [L/N].

***

“Did you get him?” Was the first thing to exit Malcolm’s mouth that night when [Y/N] went to visit him. Fortunately for Malcolm, he had gotten the all clear, so was able to return home.

“Nice to see you too.” [Y/N] chuckled, entering his home. “Yeah. It was obvious. That poisoning really fucked with your brain if you couldn’t see it.”

“Speaking of which, the place was aired out and my heater was fixed.” Malcolm shut his door. “Inspectors had a nifty device and gave the okay.”

“That’s great!” [Y/N] clapped her hands together. “You plan on trying to get murdered again any time soon?”

Malcolm chuckled again, and sat down at his counter. “Ah, no. I don’t plan on it.”

“Good. Shouldn’t have to attend your funeral when I’m older than you.” [Y/N] glided over and sat with him at the counter. “So- Malcolm Bright. When did you change your name?”

Malcolm gave a small, “oh,” and nodded his head. “Several years back when I went to Quantico. You know, to become a profiler..”

Though [Y/N] knew the story, Malcolm felt obligated to tell her how much she inspired him.

“Couldn’t think of a name until the lady there suggested going with someone who I aspire to be. Then I remembered.. You.” His smile was soft and genuine.

“Really?” She smiled back, surprised by her effect on Malcolm. “I.. I’d never guessed I’d have that sort of influence.”

“I hardly say this, but you’re probably one of the more normal and stable members of this family.” Malcolm gave a light laugh, instigating a laugh from [Y/N] as well. “You prove to me that there are some good things in life.”

“I think there is more than just me that does that, Malcolm.” [Y/N] smirked. “You have all those folk at the NYPD! You have Gil, Dani, JT, and Edrisa.”

“Of course. They’re my friends. I trust them.” Malcolm explained. “But you were the first. You helped a lot when Dr. Whitly was arrested. I still remember that day. Even when mother yelled at you, it didn’t stop you from helping me.”

[Y/N] could only nod lightly. “Yeah, Yeah.. I- I remember that day too. I remember the days before and after that day too. I felt like I had to apologize for my brother. He couldn’t be there, so I tried to be. But Jessica never had a good opinion on me, even before Martin was arrested.” She chuckled at that sentiment. “Then Gil got caught up in all the gossip that I had something to do with Martin. At least Jess was skeptical towards all of that.”

It was dead silent after that until Malcolm decided to clear the air. “Anyways, you want some water, or something?”

“Sure!”

Boy. What an odd and bizarre family.

___ E N D

A/N: So sorry for taking so long! Hope you enjoyed it. I had a bit of a hard time trying to get an end for it. Sorry if it is abrupt.

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sinnaminsuga · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Bookkeeper

Summary: How you became a bookkeeper to the city's most infamous crime lord was sort of a “right time right place” situation. You used to work in the cash handling office for the local grocery store and even leaders of organized crime operations need to grocery shop right? Right.

Pairing: Henry x Reader

Word Count: 1,445

Warnings: none (if i missed anything let me know!)

A/N: hello! i had this idea a few days ago and have been struggling with bringing it to life. it's pretty lame and based mostly on my dumb ass job so i'm sorry if it's trash! 😂

*if you'd like to be removed from my tags just let me know!*

Tags: @october505 @infinite-shite @hope-to-hell @inlovewithhisblueeyes @littlefreya @viking-raider @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @foodieforthoughts @raspberrydreamclouds @dancingwendigo @oddsnendsfanfics @its--fandom--darling @the-soot-sprite @connieisland @feralrunaway

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

- 8 months ago -

The day you met Henry, he was the next customer in line at register five. The cashier Sarah, a petite shy wisp of a girl, was getting ready to leave for the day and had used the intercom system to page for a drawer count before handing off her register to the next cashier. Henry stood patiently in line just watching the employees scurry around. And that's when you appeared. A door across from the front end flew open and you came rushing out, a separate till braced on your hip and a set of keys dangling off your wrist.

“Good afternoon folks, sorry for the delay. I just have to count down this till real quick and we’ll get right back to scanning your orders alright?” you said to the few people in Sarah's line with a gentle smile. They all seemed to hum or grunt in response as they were absorbed in their phones anyway. Henry however, locked eyes with you and made it a point to say “Take your time sweetheart.”.

You tore your eyes from the hulking man in front of you, fully aware (as was everyone else) of who he was. You pulled the till from the register and popped open all the little spring loaded arms that held the cash down. You set to work pulling each stack of money from their respective slots and began counting. You'd always been good with numbers, especially related to money, so it was easy for you. Your hands flew as you counted and in no more than five minutes you had the drawer counted and reset to its original $200 set up. You were so focused on the task at hand that you didn't notice Henry watching your every move, in awe of your speed and accuracy. The gears in his brain began to turn, coming up with an idea. You patted Sarah on the shoulder and told her she was good to go as you ushered the new cashier up to take her place. Grabbing the till you brought with you from the office, you flitted back to the room and disappeared from Henry’s sight as the door slammed closed.

After making his purchases, Henry stalked over to the door you vanished behind and knocked. He could hear muffled sounds of shuffling paper and rubber bands being snapped, no doubt tying together stacks of money. The tell tale sound of a safe slamming shut was the last sound before the door flung open and you appeared once again with a hand on your hip.

“Can I help you Mr.Cavill?” you asked, your tone a bit stern, to help mask your attraction to the beautiful man. Henry chuckled to himself before offering his hand to you, a business card wedged between his index and middle finger.

“Call me. I think i have a job for you.” was all he said before he turned and walked out the automatic doors at the front of the store. Damn. “I could bounce a quarter off that ass.” you thought to yourself.

You turned the card over in your hands and mumbled “Well, the pay cant be any worse than what I make now.” and the rest was history.

-Present Day -

The room in Henry’s home that you worked in was large with a heavy door that contained a high tech locking mechanism, and a large security guard right outside of said door. The big redwood table you did your work at was covered from end to end with stacks of cash. Henry had stocked the room with everything you'd need to keep his money in order and to balance the books of his “operation”. You didn't know what the operation was and you never cared to ask, as long as your direct deposit hit your account by 8 am every friday morning. His business was none of your business unless there was a money issue. And today, for the first time, there was a money issue.

You ran the numbers in your head over and over and over as you banded the bills together. There was money missing, you were sure of it, but you couldn't figure out where it had gone. You had triple counted every bundle of money that was given to you and it all added up to be about $100,000 short of what it should have been.

You set to counting the money for the fourth time just to be sure when you heard the muffled yet distinct voices of Henry and his two closest “employees” (if you could call them that) coming down the hall towards your room. You paid them no mind as the door opened, and kept working at the task at hand.

“Good afternoon sweetheart! How are we today?” Henry greeted you with a lighthearted tone. You two often playfully bantered, him swearing that if he wasn't such a bad man he’d sweep you off your feet and make you his wife one day, and you responding with “You wouldn't know what to do with me Cavill.” before going about your separate days. But today, you had no time or patience to entertain the bear of man.

“Someone is shorting you.” You said as the money continued to fly through your hands. “E-excuse me?” Henry questioned with a scoff. “You heard what i said. You're $100,000 short.” You continued without looking at him, focused and zeroed in on your task. “You're wrong. You've got to be wrong!” he bellowed at you, hands braced on the other side of the table, his lackies trying and failing to calm him.

You stopped counting. Your eyes snapped up to meet his as you slammed the stack of money you were counting onto the shiny wood of the table. You rose from your seat and matched his stance, palms flat on the surface of the table. Leaning forward you hissed, “I’m wrong? I'M wrong? I’m gonna tell you why i'm NOT wrong. I’m not wrong, because I'm NEVER wrong. I can’t afford to be wrong. More importantly YOU can't afford for me to be wrong. If i had a track record for being wrong, I wouldn't have a fucking job. So maybe have Crabbe and Goyle over there, ” you jabbed your finger in the direction of the two men with him, “look into it.”

Henry cracked a small smile as your chest heaved and your skin burned with anger. How dare he doubt you?! You would never make such a monumental mistake! And now he was smiling?! This bastard really had a penchant for pissing you off today.

“Crabbe and Goyle? Does that make me Draco Malfoy then?” Henry asked lowly, smile spreading across his stupid beautiful face. You couldn't help it and you started to smile too, but you bit your lip to stop yourself. “Tsk tsk tsk, no no no dear. None of that.” He murmured reaching across the rest of the distance between you two to brush the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, tugging it out from between your teeth. The action only stoked the fire building in your belly.

“I'm sorry I doubted you. I should have known better, that you would have been smart enough to double even triple count the money before coming to me about the issue. I'm sorry love. I am.” He apologized, hand over his heart as he came around to your side of the table, leaning against the edge. You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes as he tutted at you and extended his arms to pull you toward him by your waist.

“Crabbe. Goyle. Out.” Henry snapped without turning to look at the men who were now scurrying out of the room. As he drew you in closer you planted your hand against his chest. The confusion in his eyes evident, assuming he read the energy of the room wrong. You quickly rectified his confusion by leaning in and planting wet open mouthed kisses on his neck, all the way to the shell of his ear.

There was no mistaking the groan and shudder that ran through that dangerous man’s body when you spoke softly into his ear. “Now. Let's talk about your punishment for doubting me. You'll be a good boy for me, won't you darling?”

THE END

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eutaerpe · 5 years ago

Text

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings— smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary — the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

You

[12.52]

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

You

[12.52]

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

You

[12.53]

you didn’t

Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

(“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that’s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

#BTS jimin #bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts smut #bts social media au #bts imagine #bts imagines #jimin imagine #jimin #jimin smut #jimin bts #jimin x reader

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wannabe-fic-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Mentions of Death, and Smut

So these are getting longer, hope you guys don’t mind but I am having so much fun writing them. And don’t worry this is nowhere near the end.

Chapter 3

The second she wakes up, Natasha reaches for her side. She’s mildly surprised to find it bandaged, the white tainted pink in some spots.

She didn’t expect you to leave her to die or anything but she- well she isn’t sure what she expected. The last thing she expected though was to find you, asleep, on the floor beside her bed. Your chest rising and falling with each breath.

After taking a second to breathe and collect her thoughts, she gets out of bed and goes to shower. She’s careful not to agitate her wound as she does so.

Her eyes stare back at her in the mirror, water droplets still clinging to her forehead.

For the life of her she can’t wrap her head around you.

One second you’re reckless: running head first into a fight, blowing things up without warning, and deciding that a mission that would’ve taken at least a week to successfully complete could be done in a day.

Then the next second you’re being sweet: calling her ‘pretty girl’(yeah she heard that), tending to her wound in a seemingly gentle manner, tucking her into bed, and falling asleep in that uncomfortable spot to check on her if need be.

In actuality she isn’t sure that you care about her, you just fixed her up after an incident. Most likely laid there to make sure she didn’t die. That’s what any decent human would do. And she could at least admit that you’re a decent human.

Your voice followed the knock on the door,“ Natasha, uh, you okay?”

Her eyebrows pinch together. She pulls the door open and comes face to face with you.

She watches as your y/e/c eyes scan her form, lingering on her side.

“Do you um-” you clear your throat,“ I don’t mind helping you bandage that back up.”

Natasha’s gaze zeros in on the gash on your forehead. It definitely hadn’t been attended to, if the dried blood was anything to go by.

For the first time today, she speaks,“ seems like you’re the one who needs bandaging.”

You frown, only to instantly figure out what she means.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Barely a scratch.”

Running her tongue across her bottom lip, she reaches out and grabs your wrist. Her gentle tug has you following her into the living room.

She stops in front of the couch and nods for you to sit. Which you do. Briefly she disappears, only to instantly return with the first aid kit you had yesterday.

After sitting on the coffee table, she pulls some things out of the red container, and looks at you expectantly. You lean forward, eyes never leaving her’s, even when she breaks her gaze and starts cleaning your forehead.

“I don’t remember this happening.” She murmurs, a glance in your eyes then back to your forehead.

You resist the urge to raise your eyebrows,“ bullet clipped me right before you got hit. But like I said,” you smile softly,“ I am okay. Now slap a band-aid on this so I can patch you up.”

Her eyes narrow at you,“ what’s with this act, huh? You’ve been reckless and brazen since we met and now all of a sudden you’re quietly sweet.”

She watches as you tense up the second she says reckless and she’s further confused as you go quiet.

From that point on. Even as you put a clean bandage on her and proceed to make breakfast.

And you feel it. You feel her inquisitive gaze following your every move and you ignore it. Why? You feel so incredibly guilty over yesterday.

It was your idea to retrieve the data before you were ready, you are the reason Natasha got hurt and it killed you.

You couldn’t stop the nightmare that hit you last night. Everything had happened exactly as it did in real life. You and Natasha were fighting, you got hit, she got hit. Except in the dream you couldn’t save her.

Those words rang in your head from the second you woke up on the floor to the moment you saw her in that bathroom. Seeing her alive and for the most part well quelled your anxiousness.

That is until she just reminded you of your mistake.

You are reckless and brazen.

“Y/N.” Natasha sighs.

It instantly pulls you from your thoughts.

She’s said your last name like a hundred times, each time with a bit of disdain. But hearing her say your first name, in the soft way that she did, it spurred something in you.

Taking a deep breath in, you lock eyes with her, and release it.

“I’m so sorry Natasha.”

Confusion writes over her expression almost instantly,“ for what?”

“You’re right. I am reckless, and stupid, and brazen. You got hurt because of me, It was my idea to go into that building and I-”

Hesitance flickers through her before she’s stepping toward you. Her hands move slowly, reaching up to grab your forearms. She smooths her thumbs over your skin and it grabs your attention.

Eyes locking on her hands on you.

You’ve known her all of two weeks. In that span of time you’ve never seen her so gentle.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t shoot me and as far as I remember I agreed to the plan.” She tells you.

When your eyes meet, you don’t dare to look away.

“And I never called you stupid. In fact I think you’re pretty damn smart. You just do things differently.”

You chuckle, shaking your head,“ differently?”

“Look, I shouldn't have blown up at you after our first mission. It was a complete success and it was in big part thanks to you. Your plans work, I’m just use to a certain way of handling things.” Natasha explains.

You smile,“ I get it. One hundred percent. But I’m not use to having a team, so all I ask is that we trust each other. We’re like complete opposites, we barely know each other, and we’re in a business where trusting someone is near impossible. But I’m still asking, that you trust me, at least while we’re on missions.”

Natasha pauses. Those silvery green eyes continue to look into your y/e/c ones. She searches and searches for your sincerity, for her reason to trust you, and when she finds it, it nearly sends her to her knees.

There was no room in your eyes for any other emotion and she didn’t know she could trust someone in an instant.

"Okay.” Her words are barely above a whisper but you hear them.

It causes you to smile and it’s then you notice that Natasha has been holding your arms this whole time.

Her skin on yours feels nice, despite the persona the redhead assassin gives off, her touch is warm and tender. It’s easy to say that her touch could make you forget the universe all together.

You zero in on the tingling racing up your arms, the pounding in your heart, and the emotions rushing through your head.

“If you keep staring at my lips I’m gonna get the wrong idea Y/L/N.” Her raspy voice reaches your ears.

You hadn't even realized you were staring at her lips now. Could she blame you, what with how close you two were, how the tension in the room shifted from awkward to arousing in an instant.

Licking your lips, you make eyes with her,“ and what would that be?”

“That you want to kiss me.” Her eyebrow quirks up in the slightest and you notice a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

You daringly take a step closer, eyes darting from lips to eyes,“ if I didn’t know any better I’d say you want to kiss me too.”

“Maybe. But you’re not gonna find out that easily.”

“Don’t worry,” you lean down ever so slowly and speak low into her ear,“ I plan to work for it.”

*****

Your words left her on edge. For the past two days she’s watched your every move. And she noticed the shift in the way you did everything.

The way you leaned just a little closer than before when you poured her wine, the way your fingers lingered on her skin when she allowed you to change her bandage, or the way you’d cage her between your arms for those brief seconds as you helped her wash dishes.

She waited, quite literally holding her breath at one point, for you to do something.

By then she didn’t care how hard you worked for it, she just wanted it.

It ate at her as she laid in bed, with you just a room over.

For the life of her she couldn’t understand why she wanted whatever it was so bad. She couldn’t pinpoint when exactly she stopped being so annoyed at your usual tendencies and started feeling whatever she’s feeling.

It drove her crazy.

You drove her crazy, in a completely different way than before.

Part of her is intoxicated by it, hanging on to the feeling until you do something. The other part of her wanted it to end, but only because she just knew once you did something that feeling would amplify in the best way possible.

It’s why she told Fury that you two didn’t get the data when he asked. Apparently he caught wind that the target base had been attacked and he assumed it was you two, she said it wasn’t.

Yeah. She lied just to capture a few extra moments with you. Had you two gone back to the compound the moment may never come and she couldn’t chance that.

Currently the two of you were reading through the mission file to ensure, one hundred percent, that you did everything. She was talking you out of reading the collected data.

You were curious and it was there. But you genuinely weren’t going to read it, going behind Fury’s back like that would ruin your credibility with him and you would never. Still it was fun getting Natasha all flustered and riled up.

“Earth to Miss Romanoff.” She snaps back to attention at the sound of your voice, closer than before.

She takes in your position as you lean over her shoulder, your lips mere centimetres away from her ear.

“Natasha,” you sing,“ get your head out of the clouds pretty girl.”

There you go again with that little name!

“If you don’t reply I may be forced to use extreme measures.”

There’s the oh so alluring sound of your flirting. Exactly what put her in a daze in the first place.

She looks into your eyes but doesn’t reply.

“Oh I see, you want me to take extreme measures.”

You read her so quickly and so well that it scares her.

Is she losing her touch? She’s spent years, decades, perfecting her ability to hide her emotions. But with you it was like she hadn’t ever been trying in the first place.

You walk around the chair she’s sitting in to sit on the coffee table in front of her.

“How off would I be if I guessed that you’ve been dying to kiss me.” The instant you smirk her heart kicks into overdrive.“ In fact it’s all you’ve been thinking about isn’t it?”

Natasha runs her tongue across her lips and you watch the action intently.

It wasn’t as hard for you to realize you liked Natasha as it was for her to even think she liked you. If anything you realized you liked Natasha the moment you met her.

So of course you’ve been thinking about kissing her. And quite frankly you’ve loved every second of the teasing. It drove you crazy that plain ole you could make the Natasha Romanoff hold her breath.

“Natasha?” Her eyes darken as you purr her name.“ Do you want me to kiss you pretty girl?”

Her heart flutters and she feels like a love struck school girl. It would piss her off to no end if she ever felt the notorious butterflies because of you.

As much as she wants to kiss you she can’t find the words. So she settles for a nod.

Leaning closer, you bring your hand up to cup her cheek. Your thumb runs across her smooth porcelain skin. The look in her eyes is one you don’t ever think you’ll forget.

If kissing her was going to make that look even better then you just had to. And so you did.

Your lips press against her soft pink ones and, cliches be damned, you feel fireworks. They explode on your lips and send tingles across your face and down your neck.

Natasha feels the exact same thing. She almost feels like she’s shaking.

She can’t help but think how right she was to expect this to be incredible. But she also knows she overly underestimated.

Not a single one of her thoughts could’ve prepared her for the feeling of your lips on hers and she reveled in it.

When you pull away your name is a whisper from her lips to yours and she’s adamant on pulling you back in by the hair.

One final tug has you straddling her lap, your hands now finding her hair and tangling into the shoulder length red locks.

Weeks ago you were sure Natasha hated you but now, as you bite her lip and she moans, you know that feeling is gone.

The moment, however, is abruptly ruined as Natasha’s mission issued communicator goes off.

Your lips part and both your chests heave with ragged breaths.

A breath or two later and Natasha brings the communicator to her ear,“ Agent Romanoff.”

You make to climb out of her lap but her hand grips your hip. She levels you with a look that stills you.

“Actually we’ve collected the data as instructed.”

Her words intrigue you. You knew she had spoken to Fury about the mission before and you assumed she already told him you collected the data.

The conversation continues and as much as you would love to stay in her lap, you make the decision to get up.

Natasha rolls her eyes and glares at you and you stick your tongue out at her.

Chuckling, you collect her now empty wine glass and retreat into the kitchen.

With a moment to breathe, you let your thoughts race:

You just kissed Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha Romanoff let you kiss her.

It was the best kiss you’ve ever had, yes ever.

Nothing you’ve done before has felt so right.

But that doesn’t mean anything if it doesn’t happen again.

Does Natasha even want to kiss you again?

Cause you definitely want to kiss her again. Hell since you aren’t lying to yourself you could admit that a part of you needed to kiss her again. How could you live a life without those lips after having had them?

You don’t have time to figure it out as the angelic devil herself enters the kitchen.

A smirk rests on her lips and her eyes immediately connect with yours.

“So?” You start,“ why’re you just now telling Fury we collected the data?”

Her eyes widen, it’s barely noticeable but as always you catch it,“ what?”

You step closer, bending down in the slightest to catch her now averted gaze,“ I asked, why are you just now telling Fury we collected the data? Because you and I both know that happened days ago. And you and I both know you talked to Fury the night after we collected it so, answers Romanoff.”

She looks away for the briefest second and you catch the slip up in the confidence she exudes.

“Miss Romanoff,” you gasp,“ did you lie to Fury just to spend time with little old me?”

For the first time ever, you see Natasha’s face flush. The pink tint on her pale skin is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh my god, you’re blushing. You did lie to Fury for me.”

“Shut up Y/L/N.” Natasha grumbles and turns around.

You laugh as her form retreats from the kitchen.

“Awe don’t walk away pretty girl, I think it’s sweet you wanted to spend more time with me,” you wrap your arms around her waist from behind.

She starts to relax into you hold.

“And I think your blush is adorable. The bad ass assassin going all red over me.” You continue to gush.

She rolls her eyes and pushes you away, retreating to her room with a groan of annoyance, and a small smile.

*****

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romonova #mcu #marvel x reader #black widow x reader #black widow #reader insert #Thin Line

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