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sylvieisoffline · 2 months ago

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Steamy Interrogation

word count: 3k words

Please only consume what you can handle.

note: Aaaand I'm back with another Sylus fic! I swear I have the other LIs in my drafts, it's just that I'm so inspired doing Sylus' ones first haha. Have y'all seen Magnum Opus? It's soooo good and I'm so satisfied with how they gave us a peek into sylusmc's dynamic in a free 5-Star Card. Hope you enjoy this one and please let me know in the comments what you'd like to read from me next. divider by: @cafekitsune

You text Kieran after a particularly arduous mission, asking if you could use the hot tub on their penthouse again. You were already in front of the unit but insisted on waiting for his reply before you go in.

It had been a sort of an after-mission ritual. When after one mission had you very sore and your gym buddy / best friend Kieran started offering access to one of his brother's places. You were reluctant at first, initially overcome with embarrassment with the idea of taking baths on another person's place. Someone you haven't met moreso.

"My brother doesn't stay there anyway. He just bought the place 'cause it looked nice and wanted to have someplace to stay whenever he's here in Linkon—which he rarely does now by the way. Even Luke is sulking with how busy he's become that he doesn't even visit now."

You agreed then, asking him, like, ten more times after that even if he kept reassuring you that it was fine.

You were pulled back to reality when your phone pinged with a new notification.

“Sure, left the doors open. Make yourself at home ;)”

You thanked him, entering the unit and depositing your stuff on one of the couches. The place is quiet—sunlight slicing through the tall glass windows, steam already curling from the water’s surface. You strip without much thought and slip into the heat, letting it swallow the tension in your shoulders. After a while, you climb out and sit at the edge, towel draped lazily across your lap as you dry your hair.

That’s when you hear the bathroom door open.

Heavy, deliberate steps echo into the space, followed by the unmistakable sound of a safety catch clicking off.

“Don’t move.”

You freeze.

Your breath catches as you look up—and see him.

Not Kieran.

Someone else. Taller. Sharper.

Ruby eyes locked on you, gun aimed steady and unshaking.

“Who the hell are you?” “I—I thought this place was empty,” you stammer, arms instinctively tightening around your towel. “Hands where I can see them,” he says coldly.

You raise your arms slowly. The towel lifts with you, but slips slightly—your bare body catching in the low light.

His right eye glows as he's scrutinizing but his expression doesn’t change. You can't help but marvel at the sight.

You momentarily hope that he doesn't sense the ugly feeling other than fear simmering in your system after being entranced in his eyes like that.

“Drop it.” “What?” “The towel.”

You hesitate. But he doesn’t lower the gun.

Your fingers loosen, the towel falls in a soft heap by your feet. You stand there, completely bare under his gaze.

“Turn around,” he commands.

You swallow hard and obey.

Behind you, the silence stretches—then breaks.

You hear the rustling of clothes. Heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. Something heavy hits the floor as goosebumps crawl through your skin.

You hear footsteps again—bare this time. He comes closer.

The cold press of the barrel nudges the small of your back.

“Move.”

You step forward, slowly, heart racing, body burning with both dread and something else.

He deliberately walks behind you, still holding the gun to the small of your back while nearing the tub. You hesitantly dip yourself back in the bubbling water and hear him follow suit.

The soft click of metal resounds in the bathroom as he sets the gun down on the ledge. Then, you hear something unfamiliar—an electric hum, faint and low. A red current crawls up your limbs before you can react.

You gasp.

Your wrists are yanked back behind you—locked in place. Your ankles drawn together, suspended in a precise tension as your body floats slightly above the water’s surface.

“What—what is this—?” “It's my evol, miss.” he murmurs, voice low and unreadable.

You struggle, but his Evol holds firm.

Then suddenly—he’s behind you.

You feel him.

The weight of his chest just barely grazing your back, his breath curling against your ear, and lower still—the unmistakable, thick heat resting against the dip of your ass, barely sheathed by the water. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t truly touched you, but your body reacts anyway—muscles twitching, skin hypersensitive, breath stuttering.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says, and this time, his hand grips your jaw, tilting your head just enough to expose your throat. “Let me ask again—why are you here?”

“I—I didn’t know—Kieran said—”

The second his name leaves your lips, the man scoffs.

“Kieran.” His voice dips, a bitter curl at the edge. “Of course.”

The tension in the air shifts—something sharper than suspicion settling between you.

He clicks his tongue, almost amused. His hand leaves your jaw, his breath brushing your neck as he trails his lips along your skin—just barely grazing, barely touching. Then, he parts his lips and nips.

A sharp little bite just beneath your ear.

You gasp, your hips twitching again despite how sensitive you already are.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” He breaths,“Why you’re shaking.”

Another nip—this time lower, right at the curve of your throat, then down along your collarbone. Each bite is purposeful, not deep enough to bruise but firm enough to sting just slightly, a wicked contrast to the warm water sloshing around your body.

His hands slide up, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over your nipples before he skirts around to let his mouth follow. His teeth scrape one, then he sucks it into his mouth with slow, deliberate pressure.

You arch into him with a choked whimper, the mix of pain and heat making your thighs tense under the surface.

“Why you’re so fucking wet.”

Heat sears through you, your body betraying you with another twitch. Your lips part to deny it, but he’s already moved.

His tongue circles your nipple again, slow and wet, before he switches to the other. His Evol tugs your arms tighter behind your back, just enough to make your chest arch out toward him—putting everything on display, just how he wants it.

“Look at you,” he purrs, mouth trailing back up to your throat. “Bound, dripping, squirming…All from a little teasing.”

Another sharp bite at the side of your neck makes you moan, your head falling against his shoulder. He moves back to the spot behind you as he repositions your body to not sink further into the tub. He chuckles low in his chest, the water rippling as his hand disappears beneath the surface, his fingers ghosting over your folds—barely a touch, but enough to make you squirm.

One slow stroke.

Another.

You gasp, your knees buckling in the water, but the Evol keeps you suspended, helpless.

“Sensitive,” he notes, fingers teasing your bud. “How convenient.”

You barely register the meaning before his fingers press more firmly against you, slipping between your folds. You jolt. Your Evol-bound wrists twitch, but the restraints hold firm. His thumb brushes your clit, expertly timed with another push—your body jerking as sparks shoot up your spine. You cry out, unable to contain the sound this time, trembling violently in his grip.

“Interesting,” he muses, stroking once. Twice. A slow, torturous pace. “You’re not denying it.”

A humiliated moan leaves your throat, and he chuckles—a deep, quiet sound that makes your stomach twist.

“Too easy,” he murmurs. “Is that all it takes?”

A slow drag of his fingers up and down. Dipping inside, teasing at your entrance but not pushing in anymore. His thumb brushes your clit in the lightest touch, barely a graze, but it still sends a violent tremor through you.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan.

“Don’t be shy now.” His free hand grips your chin, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “I want to hear you.”

He presses his thumb down fully this time, circling once—slow, precise, devastating. You scream, hips jerking into his touch, body desperate for friction.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, dragging his lips against the shell of your ear. “So desperate. Maybe I should just leave you like this. Struggling. Needy.”

The thought makes you whine. Your fingers flex uselessly, your ankles twitching against the unrelenting grip of his Evol.

“Or maybe,” he breathes, “I should push you a little further.”

You barely have time to process the words before he thrusts two fingers inside you.

A cry rips from your throat, your body clenching down instinctively around the sudden stretch.

He hums. “Tight.” Another stroke, deeper this time, his fingers curling just right. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

You shake your head desperately. “N-no—”

“Liar.”

A sharp thrust. Another. His pace is still measured, still controlled, but every movement is meant to unravel you, to keep you right at the edge.

And it’s working.

Your thighs tremble, the pressure in your core winding tight, pleasure building so fast it’s nearly unbearable. Your breathing turns ragged, broken moans slipping past your lips.

“You gonna cum already?” he taunts, his fingers pressing deep, thumb rolling slow, teasing circles against your clit. “So quick. Is that all it takes?”

You shake your head again, but your body betrays you—the telltale tension coiling impossibly tight.

“Come for me.” His voice drops to a whisper, dark and commanding.

“Now.”

And you do.

Your body jerks violently against the restraints, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you convulse around his fingers.

But he doesn’t stop.

His fingers keep moving, prolonging every aftershock, pushing you straight into overstimulation. Your legs shake, another cry spilling from your lips.

"S-sir, 's too much. Pleas—"

“Too much?” he purrs, amused. “You sure?”

He finally withdraws his fingers—only to drag them up, pressing them against your lips.

“Open.”

You hesitate, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for refusal. You part your lips, your own taste spreading over your tongue as he pushes his fingers in.

“Good girl.”

Then—he shifts.

The water moves as he steps even closer, his Evol releasing your legs just enough for you to feel him lining up against you. You choke back a sob, realization dawning through the pleasure-drunk haze.

“You already took my fingers so well,” he breathes, his cock pressing against your entrance now, thick and hard. “Let’s see how much more you can handle."

When he finally presses himself against you again—thick, hard, ready—you’re already dripping around nothing.

“You’re going to take every inch,” he says lowly. “And you’re going to thank me for it.”

He pushes in slowly, deliberately. You dig your nails into your palms as you struggle to accomodate his girth, each inch more unbearable than the last. You moan, helpless under the flood of sensation.

Your entire body arches—mouth falling open in a silent scream as your walls stretch around him, the sudden intrusion overwhelming. He’s thick, hard, relentless from the first stroke, and your Evol-bound body can do nothing but take it.

Then he begins to move.

“Fuck—” His voice finally drops from its usual cool tone, his grip tightening on your waist. “So fucking tight.” he growls into your shoulder. “You’re taking me so well for someone who wasn’t expecting company.”

Slow at first—just enough for you to feel every ridge, every pulse. Then faster, deeper, brutal. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air again, water splashing around your bodies. Your voice is a blur of moans and gasps, lost in the sound of him fucking you like he owns you. Every thrust is deep, purposeful—like he’s trying to brand his shape inside you.

“That’s it,” he growls, hips snapping against yours. “Take it.”

Your mind is blank, fogged with the blinding edge of overstimulation. Pleasure coils violently in your belly—shame and ecstasy twined too tightly to separate. Your climax crashes over you before you can stop it, hips jerking in the water as you sob through it, Evol still locking you in place.

But he doesn’t stop.

If anything, he thrusts harder, riding out your orgasm only to build another. His hands grip your hips now, fingers digging bruises into your skin as he pistons into you, his pace brutal and fast.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Let go. Come for me again."

Your body locks around him, shaking with every thrust as he fucks you hard, water splashing around both of you as the pace builds again. Each slap of skin sends sparks through your body, and your climax slams into you harder than the first—violent, uncontrollable, teeth letting go of your lip as you scream.

But the man doesn’t let go. Not yet.

His grip is bruising on your waist as he thrusts through your orgasm, chasing his own release, panting now—low, guttural noises ripping from his throat until finally he drives into you one last time and groans, spilling into you, body tight with tension.

Your Evol restraints dissolve, and you slump forward, boneless and shaking. He catches you, pulls you against him, your bodies still half-submerged in the water.

But he’s not done.

You barely register movement until he lifts you—just enough to sit you on the edge of the tub, legs spread, dripping, glistening in the soft steam-lit glow.

“Don’t move.”

His tone is lower now, huskier. Almost reverent.

He kneels in the water between your thighs, hands parting you again, spreading you wide for him. You flinch from the contact, still sensitive—but that only makes him smirk.

“So soft,” he murmurs, fingers stroking your swollen folds before his tongue finally presses flat against you.

Your head drops back with a cry, the sudden rush of wet heat too much, too sharp. He licks slow, dragging the flat of his tongue up and over your clit in lazy, deliberate strokes.

You buck against him, fingers digging into the tiled edge of the tub, helpless to the fire blooming again in your core.

“Still sweet,” he mutters between licks. “Still twitching for me.”

His tongue circles your clit again, over and over, switching between soft teases and sudden hard flicks that make your thighs jerk and close around his head—until his Evol restrains you again, keeping your legs spread wide open for him.

He moans into you at the same time he presses two fingers back inside, tongue working in perfect rhythm, dragging you toward the edge again.

“Come on,” he growls against you. “Give it to me. Again.”

You don’t stand a chance.

You cum again, thighs shaking violently, your cries echoing in the steamy air, body collapsing into shudders as he licks you through every aftershock—until you’re a wrecked, panting mess above him, still twitching from the overstimulation.

Your body gives out the moment it’s over.

Every last drop of strength drains from your limbs—your mission fatigue, the emotional whiplash of being interrogated at gunpoint, the overwhelming pleasure wrung out of you in waves—it all crashes down at once.

You collapse into his arms.

His hands shift under your legs and behind your back, lifting you gently from the tub. You hear water dripping off you both as he carries you across the marble floor, steps unhurried, expression unreadable—but his hold is firm. Protective. Possessive.

He sets you down on a soft surface, kneeling beside you. He begins to wipe you down with a patience that doesn’t quite match his earlier ruthlessness. You flinch once, still sensitive, and his touch instantly softens.

He doesn’t say anything. But his eyes linger on every part of you he touches, watching the way your body reacts—memorizing you all over again, even now.

When he’s done, he scoops you up again, walks you into the bedroom, and lowers you onto his bed.

His sheets smell like him—amber, leather, gunmetal.

You barely register the soft rustle of fabric as he dresses you in one of his button-downs, sleeves swallowing your arms. He tucks the hem under your thighs and smooths it out over your belly. It’s oversized, but warm. Familiar.

He pulls the covers over you and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering a moment.

He then leaves the room, shutting the door with a soft click.

In the living room, Sylus towels off, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a loose black shirt. His fingers run through his wet hair before he picks up his phone and dials.

The line rings once.

“What?” Kieran’s voice comes through groggy and irritable. “It’s late, man.”

“You didn’t think to tell me you've already met my Beloved?” Sylus says flatly.

There’s a pause. Then an incredulous laugh.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Sylus’ jaw clenches.

“The woman you’ve been letting use the penthouse. The one you’ve been hiding from me.”

“What? I wasn’t hiding—wait.” There’s a beat of silence. “You met her?”

“I did more than just meet her.”

“Sylus,” Kieran says, voice rising with panic. “What did you do?”

Sylus groans and rubs the bridge of his nose.

“What didn’t we do?”

There’s a choked sound on the other end of the line.

“Are you fucking serious?! You better not have hurt her or els—”

“Calm down,” Sylus cuts in, voice cool again. “If anyone’s ass needs to get handed back to them, it's yours—for letting strangers use my property without telling me.”

“She’s not a stranger,” Kieran snaps. “She’s the only one I’ve let use it. You’re lucky it was her and not, I don’t know, someone actually dangerous.”

“Hmph.” A rare hint of amusement glints in Sylus’ tone. “Then you’ve made your one good decision today.”

“Sylus—seriously, just…Be gentle with her, okay?”

“I always am,” he replies smoothly, ending the call before Kieran can protest further.

He returns to the bedroom quietly.

The lights are dim now, your breathing soft and even beneath the covers. He slips in behind you, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

His nose brushes your slightly damp hair. He inhales deeply—like he’s grounding himself in the scent of you, the warmth of you in his bed.

You shift in your sleep, instinctively curling toward him. He smiles against your temple and presses a soft kiss there.

“We’re finally reunited,” he whispers. “My Beloved Sorceress.”

And he holds you tighter—like he never intends to let you go again.

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burreauxoxo · 3 months ago

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illicit affairs - joe burrow

secretboyfriend!joe x fem!reader

summary: you started out as friends but once things start to progress, it takes more than the threats given to you by the NFL for you two to stop seeing each other.

warnings: use of ‘y/l/n’, secret relationship, swearing (very little)

word count: 3.6k

note: this is my first bit of writing i am posting here on tumblr! i am still learning the ins and outs so tips and tricks are appreciated. any suggestions towards my writing are always helpful! banner below does not belong to me! same for the pictures above! all credits go to the owners!

when it came to working with the cincinnati bengals, it was simple. you edit the film for the players to watch on the many tablets that reside on the sidelines, then you go home.

when you were hired for the job, the contract was extensive. you were to:

1. stay away from the players outside of the stadium if it meant the occasion would lead to foul play.

2. agree on certain clips and informtion being confidential.

3. not discuss what happens to each player if it is not known, public information.

4. and again... stay away from the players if it meant foul play would be the outcome.

you could look at the players or their wives and girlfriends as friends, you could meet for dinner or even post-game celebrations. but if it was a solo outing and things looked steamy, you were conference room bound.

but when it came to a certain quarterback, the temptation was strong. intensely compelling even.

nothing was worth losing your job; and you meant nothing.

very few occasions did you come upon where it was hard to speak to him. just this last time, it had led to an impromptu bathroom break to collect your thoughts. but otherwise, you needed to keep it professional.

professional for the higher-ups and the officials that were constantly hovering over your shoulder and asking you to transfer certain clips to them before they even reached the players.

professional so the players wouldn’t suspect anything.

professional so the fans wouldn't disect the clips or photos of every time you two were seen together.

because only the two of you were to know what has happened and what will happen outside of that stadium.

it all started when you were given a request by a certain quarterback for a clip where people were calling his accuracy questionable. he could have waited for the mass release of the whole game to be uploaded or even ask the coach to put in a request for a certain timeframe so he was able to rewatch this "questionable" play.

instead, he went straight to the source.

"i didn't want any delay, i just need to see what was happening."

that was the main excuse for his sudden knock on the media room door. players rarely came up to that door. but after an outfit change and a long press conference, joe burrow was determined to get that thirty second clip onto his tablet as soon as he wanted it.

but after conversing with you, he knew that wasn't going to be the last time he was going to see you.

it quickly became repetitive. at first, you didn't realize that maybe his visits were intentional. some may call you naive, but you were sure that it was really, truly impossible.

joe burrow taking time out of his day to come see you? yeah right, cue the laughing track.

but when he got closer, pulled out one of the rolling chairs and asked you to explain what you were doing, the heat practically radiated off of your cheeks to represent just how nervous you were. you had just adapted to his random visits, requesting clips. but now, he was acting interested in what you were doing. it was truly impossible.

that was all you could tell yourself. joe burrow was... a lot of things. you, not so much. so what made you different from all of the well-known, famous females he had at his fingertips?

first, he offered to walk you to your car. you had politely declined and said that the pink container of pepper spray you had in your bag would do the job. if you were being honest, the guards that watched over the parking lot were the only things that kept you safe. when it was just you at the end of the night, you'd be too scared shitless to dig for a small pink container, let alone unlock it and coordinate a decent aim to knock them onto their ass.

so, an offer from someone other than a guard or an off-duty custodian was nice for a change. you declined him anyways.

what came with a decline, was a follow-up visit.

"i was wondering if you had any backlog of clips from the game against the commanders? i'd like to revist... you know?"

"i have backlog from the beginning of my stay here. care for a game from twenty twenty-one?"

joe sat there as you looked in the file from the game he wanted. you offered the whole game or him specifically; you had both.

"the whole game works."

with a few clicks and a thirty second wait, you spun your chair in his direction.

"check your tablet." you say and nod your head at the device that sat on his leg while he waited. he seen a gray square start to show up with a loading signal circling in the middle of it. give or take a minute or two, a clip that was an hour and a half long had been uploaded.

"thanks."

you thought he'd head out after that. but he didn't. he asked how long you had and you told him you were packing up now.

you watched him stand up, unknowing of what was to come.

the both of you had stopped at your car first. he lingered for a second before he gave you a look. a look that signified more than you'd like to admit. you insisted on putting your bags and equipment down first and then the conversation could continue.

but before you knew it, the both of you were in the back of your car... the rest of the night simply ahead of you. the back of your car wasn’t ideal, but it kept the both of you away from being seen by anybody.

nights like that one only continued. it happened another time or two before he offered to take you somewhere else.

"no, we shouldn't." you insisted and at the time, he agreed.

the sneaking around didn't stop, it seemed too easy of a task. that was probably the worst thing you had ever admitted.

a few more identical excursions took place before joe stopped agreeing that you two shouldn’t be doing this.

“what happens with us, stays between us. nobody is going to know.”

he melted the worries that swarmed your head. somewhere down the line of history within the nfl, you couldn’t have been the first ones to play the officials and sneak around a couple times.

you finally agreed one night. but that night, wasn’t the end zone. it wasn’t going to stop there.

it got to the point of joe going to a smoothie shop or out for lunch so you would "bump into him." you took it as an opportunity to go for a run since the meetings usually took place in the earlier hours of the day. your landing spot would be the location he told you and the both of you would basically stage a situation.

you ran until you reached the location, you would check your apple watch, you'd walk into the establishment and you'd place an order. when you would turn around, the two of you would catch each others eyes and then act surprised. but, it wasn't going to last long acting that way.

it would become too frequent. the guards that lingered in the gated community that kept watch of his home, would gain recognition of you and would later learn your identity. for some strange reason, you thought that would be the downfall.

and you were right.

it wasn't one hundred percent the security guards fault. he had other places he needed to keep an eye on. as soon as he happened to drive away for maybe five minutes, it was perfect timing for a photographer to capture one single photo of you walking out of joe’s house, him shirtless behind you.

eventually, the developing nightmare landed you in one of those dark and scary conference rooms that you told yourself you'd never be in unless the problem wasn’t you but someone else. your luck had run out. you said it wasn't worth losing your job.

when you unplugged your equipment to load it into your bag for work that morning, a part of you knew it could be for the last time.

each seat in the ominous conference room was occupied by yourself, joe, a handful of higher-ups, your manager, coach taylor, and joe's agent.

the tension in the room was high. you paid careful attention to the many sheets of paper that were floating from person to person at the table. everyone but joe and yourself had a stack of papers in front of them. they all make a signal that was very obviously planned, and pull the photo that was taken of the two of you to the front of the stack.

"miss. y/l/n, you understand why we are all gathered here today, right?" one of the main guys said.

"yes, sir. i do." you replied. you held your hands together in front of you and on the table to appear as professional as possible. you told yourself it was too late but really, it was never too late.

"mr. burrow, do you understand why we are here today?"

"i do." joe says, not one ounce of doubt or discouragement in his voice.

"well then, let's get this show on the road. some time in the early hours of this morning, we received an email that held this photo that depicts the both of you standing in the entry way of mr. burrow's house. miss y/l/n, you signed a contract a few years ago, agreeing on a whole section that is based around fraternization. what comes with a signiture, is agreeing to the consequences, correct?" your manager speaks.

"yes, sir." you nod.

"with that being said, after the both of you are given a chance to explain yourselves, immediate termination will likely take place, just as the contract states. you are given a chance for explaination to really confirm if that route is necessary, but there is photo proof. there is no turning back from that." he adds.

"wait, so she is getting terminated for a two person job? this included the both of us, it is partially my fault as well." joe says.

"we understand that. your contract is constructed differently though. if you land yourself in a position of being with, let's say, an agent, a manager, a coach, or someone from the front office, similar results would occur. but your contract is different from hers here."

“alright. i’d like to explain first. to start, does anyone have a copy of her contract?” joe asks.

you sat there listening to his words, no clue what he was going to say. he could dissect your contract and spill every hidden action you two participated in; if he truly wanted to, he could.

your manager slides over a three-paged packet and lets joe take a look at it.

“here. it states that she is to stay away from players outside of the stadium if it meant the occasion was going to lead to foul play. does having a smoothie count as foul play?” joe asks.

“no, it does not.” your manager says, still not backing down from the strict and solid attitude he stepped in with.

“does having lunch count as foul play?” joe continues.

“it does not.”

“one of our cheerleaders is great friends with a wife of someone on the team, they went to college together. if she were to go to that players house to either drop something off, visit the wife, or even have dinner as friends, would that count as foul play?” joe asks.

“no mr. burrow, it does not.” your manager sighs.

“okay then. miss y/l/n here did not contribute to any noteworthy foul play and i am here as a witness.”

“joe, you are shirtless while she is leaving your house. what does that say or maybe even imply?” coach taylor says.

“i was working out and she dropped lunch off. she was in the area and asked if i needed anything.”

“would you have proof?” your manager asks.

you both pull your phones out of your back pockets. you both scroll through a couple texts and pull up identical text conversations. you’re telling him you had a doctors appointment in the area and would bring him lunch if he wanted something, and then there was a break in the texts. you didn’t know what he was really doing but it played into the “working out” plan.

“hm, okay. i guess this is why we allow explanations.” your manager says and looks around the table at all the guys who sat there, defeated looks put on view.

“so, nobody is losing their job today?” joe asks.

“no, she is not. we want to instill the rules and remind you that stuff behind the scenes will be investigated if it needs to be. stop with the clandestine meetings and if you two are good friends, then let that show. the secrecy raised red flags but i’m glad you two were able to confirm what was truly happening. on a similar note, if anything is going on between the two of you, now is the time to say so. coming to us and telling us would make the situation a lot better than if we were to find out through the media.”

you and joe look at each other and shrug.

“no. we are just friends.”

it didn’t end there.

joe was asked on multiple occasions if a follow-up meeting was necessary. after you were seen at an event for the joe burrow foundation, you received an email. after you were seen participating in bye week shenanigans, you received an email. you wore a jersey with the number nine on it and guess what, you received an email!

you had talked to joe many times about just telling them because this something, was becoming obvious. ja’marr was calling you “joe’s girl” and joe wouldn’t deny it. you’d go no longer than a couple days without seeing each other. the eye contact alone would cause a ruckus if an outsider happened to see it.

but it was the times joe told you to clean up after yourself once you were leaving his place for the first time in a couple days. you’d thought about leaving a small trace of you behind in case something else was going on. but at this point, it was truly impossible.

the more he’d mention not to leave things behind, the more you thought this was going to fade out. you stopped mentioning the possibility of speaking to the higher-ups about the two of you. you stopped offering your support.

it was until he mentioned you coming to a basketball game with him that you felt like calling it off. you didn’t want to look like a fool. people were already calling you “his side piece.”

that was the last name you wanted to be called.

so once you showed up at his place, ready for the game that would take place later on that day, he felt something was off.

“you could have said you didn’t feel like going.” joe admits in the silence.

“i wanted to go.” you say, silence falling over the two of you once again.

“listen, if telling your manager and my coach and whoever else makes you feel better, then let’s do it.” joe finally says.

“it wouldn’t just ‘make me feel better.’ that isn’t even what’s on my mind.” you say.

“okay then, what is?”

“i know you like your privacy and your own space and whatnot, but why do you make sure i have all of my stuff cleaned up before i leave? am i not the only one or am i in the way of something?”

“no, not at all. i was just trying to play along with the story we have going. if someone were to come over here and see your stuff everywhere, then it says a lot.” joe explains.

you believed it. it was a reasonable meaning.

“you know, i would have agreed to getting fired that day if it meant things would work out.” you admitted.

“what? absolutely not. it’s a job we both took part in. if i wasn’t being fired too then how is that fair and do you feel like things aren’t working out right now?”

“i don’t know.”

joe came closer to you, eyeing your features.

"i will find a way to make sure all of this works out." joe says.

the pit that grew in your stomach, triples in size due to the sudden use of your nerves. what did he mean by that?

the night went on just as you expected. there wasn’t much time left until the game would be over and a winner would be declared. joe sat with his arms crossed, a small smile still displayed on his serious face. on occasion, you’d glance over and admire his features and how he focused on a different team for once.

the way he followed each player as they ran up and down the court. the way he’d celebrate a score when a basket was made after a serious battle between the ball and the surrounding players. it was nice to see him enthralled with something other than the game he played for a living.

you had noticed that a “kiss cam” was being displayed on the screens, broadcasting various couples to the whole arena.

it stunned you when your figure next to joe’s was displayed on said screen. the noise in the arena picked up as joe leans into you some, turning your face to look towards him with his pointer finger and thumb. his other arm was resting behind you; the moment looked too casual.

a feeling like no other, his lips on yours for not only the whole arena to see but for all of the viewers to see. feeling like one of the first times you shared a conversation with him, the heat radiating off of your cheeks was almost too hot to handle.

you kept as calm as you could, smiling through the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins. that same adrenaline didn’t leave you for the rest of the night. once you and joe were escorted out of the arena, you both knew you’d be receiving an email about what had happened, maybe even a conference room invite.

the two of you seen it coming, so why stop now?

the next morning, joe had practice to be at. you were cuddled in a ball of his blankets when you were woken up by your phone ringing multiple times back to back.

joe.

“hello?” you ask.

“they want you to meet us here for a meeting. none of them look happy but… what can you do?” he jokes.

now wasn’t the time for jokes if none of them looked happy. but you still climbed out of your warm cave you made with his comforter and got up to change. throughout the duration of preparing yourself, you contemplated a lot.

this could be it. you could be losing your job. over some frivolous actions. it was official… joe burrow clouded your ability to make better decisions.

once you made it to the stadium, the speed behind your steps kicked up a notch. you walked with confidence to show that you don’t buckle under pressure.

entering the conference room with a professional demeanor, nobody batted an eye once you found a seat next to joe.

“so, here we are again.” your manager says, a new stack of papers in front of him.

“let’s not lollygag. why did neither one of you think that stepping forward with honesty was the better move to make?” one of the officials says.

“cut the ‘we are just friends’ shit too. it’s obviously not true.” your manager says.

“we were just about to contact you guys.” you admit.

“you sure about that? you looked pretty preoccupied last night.”

“i have a draft in my emails.” you jump at the opportunity to say.

“keep it. since we’ve been here once before and since we offered many follow-up meetings to avoid this exact moment, there will be consequences.” your manager says.

“sir, we are adults. we have free-will. we both have proved that we can keep our work lives at work and home life at home. we keep things professional around here, so what could possibly be wrong?” joe taunts.

“that’s why termination would be the go-to but due to previous knowledge, i am going to propose an offer of a thirty-day suspension.” your manager says.

“while active on a thirty-day suspension, you are to not step foot on the stadiums premises unless permission is granted and nothing before approval. you and mr. burrow here have represented a civil relationship and there is nothing more we ask for. we do recommend minimal contact the day of the game for focusing purposes.” an official says.

“i would also recommend an nda. either both parties can sign one or i could just print one on mr. burrow’s behalf.” joe’s agent says.

“that would be unnecessary, she is already under a contract.” your manager says.

“just for safety purposes. mr. burrow is a very private person and i would hate for anything to be released against his wishes.” he continues.

“no, she doesn’t need to sign an nda.” joe cuts in.

his agent is silent from here on.

once the respective papers were signed and you agreed that the thirty-day suspension was necessary and valid, you packed up your stuff and made your way back home.

you were sitting on the couch when a call from joe came through.

“i can’t believe we pulled that off.” he says.

“see, i told you i’d do whatever if it meant things would work out.”

“and i never doubted you once. thank you for sticking it out with me.”

SILENTLY LOSING MY MIND OVER UPLOADING MY FIRST PIECE OF WRITING!!! I HATE THIS!!

if you want to be added to a taglist, let me know!! <3

#cincinnati bengals #joe burrow #football #nfl #fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n

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studioeisa · 6 months ago

Note

hey! i was wondering whether u could write one for this

https://www.tumblr.com/svtsofthours/768410973781524480/mingyu-zoned-out-you-leans-in-and-kisses-him?source=share

just like do not disturb.. 💕 (loved it btw)

💋 none the wiser (mingyu x reader)

★ footnotes: major shoutout to @svtsofthours for being so chill about me using their posts as prompts lol! mingyu soft hours are perpetually open, i fear. listened to kiss me by sixpence none the richer the entire time. word count: 830~

It's a Wednesday, and the only thing on Mingyu's mind is where the two of you should go this evening.

Very rarely does he have a day off like this. He can count on one hand the amount of times that practice has been canceled, that a schedule has been postponed. As it is, the stars have aligned to give him this free afternoon.

And who else would he want to spend it with but you?

The sudden freedom has thrown him off-kilter, though, leaving him fumbling for plans. Mingyu reveled in being the date-planner. In getting to smirkingly tell you I got this, baby every time the two of you were supposed to head out.

He's never learned to work with spontaneity, and so he spends half of his time agonizing.

The two of you are lounging in your apartment as Mingyu swears to figure it out. You're sprawled out on the couch, doing one thing or the other, while your legs rest in Mingyu's lap. He's absentmindedly rubbing your ankles with one hand while the other clutches his phone, scrolling through Klook articles of last-minute date ideas.

"Is it cold enough to go ice skating?" he mumbles, his eyebrows drawn together with laser-sharp focus. It's a rhetorical question, really, because before you can answer, he's already grumbling, "No, no, you're too clumsy for that."

"Hey," you protest.

Mingyu gives your ankle an affectionate pat, but keeps on reading.

There's so many things to do. And so little time. When tomorrow comes, he'll be swept back into his busy day-to-day. The two of you might not see each other for another week or so, and the mere thought of it already has his fingers tightening ever so slightly around you.

Mingyu has never particularly thought himself to be a selfish person. He shares almost everything with his members; he'll give what he can to his fans.

You make him greedy. For affection, for attention, for time.

"I can try to get us a reservation at Via Toledo," he muses.

"Too expensive," you whine.

"If it's for you? Never."

"Mingyu."

"Fine, fine."

He scrolls some more. Clicks on to an entirely different article altogether. He doesn't know why he's stressing over this so badly. He knows you, knows you'll be happy with whatever reasonable thing he offers.

He just can't help it. He wants so, so badly to be good for you, to be good to you.

"How about Lotte World?" he tries.

You look up from your own phone with a considering expression, though it's a bit more on the wary side. "Won't there be too many people?" you ask, ever the careful one.

"I can just rent it out for—"

"Baby!"

"Alriiiight."

Mingyu's pouting now, but you're immune to his little displays of petulance and his attempts at grand gestures. You go back to whatever you were reading with a bemused shake of your head.

He tries to focus on the nth Top Seoul Date Places blog post, but his mind has practically turned to mush at this point. He doesn't realize that his eyes are unfocused or that he's barely registering the words on his phone. His head has quite literally emptied out, all of his ideas making no sense. All Mingyu really wants is—

Oh.

He hadn't even noticed you shifting, hadn't picked up on you leaning forward. When your lips press a gentle, sweet kiss to his forehead, he's dragged back down to earth.

Mingyu blinks once, then twice. He looks to you, starry-eyed and smitten.

"What was that for?" he asks, sounding far too dazed for someone who has already received dozens, hundreds of your kisses.

"No reason," you answer. Your rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We don't have to go anywhere, you know."

"We don't?"

"We don't."

"But—"

His protest is cut off by you darting forward to leave another kiss, this time on the corner of his mouth.

"This is enough," you tell him, and the sincerity in your tone is enough to leave him breathless.

And that was it, wasn't it? Mingyu had agonized, Mingyu had zoned out, Mingyu had fallen into near-panic, even, because he had wanted to make himself worth your time. He had wanted to give you the world. Something, anything to show you just how much he adored you.

But he supposes you're right.

"This is enough," he echoes quietly.

You get up from the couch to grab your laptop, announcing that the two of you are going to have a movie marathon. To give Mingyu something to do, you assign him the all-important task of ordering takeout. He rolls his eyes playfully but does as you ask, because you're the light of his life and he will order you the pizza you want if it's the last thing he does.

It's a Wednesday. Mingyu loves you, still.

svtsofthours post ->

Mingyu: [zoned out] You: [leans in and kisses him on the forehead] Mingyu: [blinks and smiles at you with stars in his eyes]

#mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #tokitosun #( kmg save meeeeeeee. KMG WITH STARS IN HIS EYES SAVE MEEEE )#(💎) page: svt #(🥡) notebook

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dearsnow · 2 years ago

Text

ORLANDO (FIRST KISS)

- charlie, your best friend, attempts to set you up with the crush he is convinced you have. (charlie dalton x gn!reader, includes some neil being a good friend, slight angst into fluff, happy au, no beta we die like real men)

word count: 2,647

a/n - i love charlie so much oh my god 😭 hopefully there’s more to come with him! i’m planning a very long fic for him, hopefully similar in feeling to my neil fic “the last time” :) this is slightly inspired by the song “orlando” by leith ross so pls check them out!!

It’s 1:32 AM on a Friday night (Saturday, technically, but that rarely seems to matter), and Charlie Dalton is refusing to let you sleep.

“You’ve got to tell me. I swear, cross my heart, I won’t tell a soul.” He begs.

Charlie has been your best friend for god knows how long. You met so long ago that you don’t even remember how or why; it just was. That’s exactly what your relationship is. There’s really no rhyme or reason, considering you would detest anyone else with his personality, but you’re friends anyways, and you love him with all your heart. Opposites attract, you suppose. You don’t know for sure. Most days, including today, he is extremely and desperately annoying.

You slump down onto his bed, covering your eyes with your hands. He’s gotten it into his mind that you have a crush, and he won’t rest until he finds out who it is. Lucky you.

“Charlie, it’s no one.” You groan, peeking past your fingers to stare at him with a cross expression. “Even if I did like someone, I wouldn’t tell you.”

The problem is, you do like someone, and he’s sitting right in front of you with messy hair and pajama pants.

Your feelings for him, just like your meeting, are so far buried in the past that you couldn’t dig them up with an excavator. One day, you suppose, you just started to fall in love with him. He’s annoying and rich and a total smart-ass, but you love him. In some soft, quiet ways, he is the kindest boy you’ve ever met.

He notices when you get cut off mid-conversation or when you’re just a little too uncomfortable to talk to the person in front of you. He knows you like the back of his hand and puts his knowledge to use without ever having to ask, like how he always gets you exactly what you want on your birthday. He’s smart and energized and a breath of fresh air, no matter how stale the room is. And, of course, though you would rarely tell him, he is dashingly handsome.

He sits up straighter and begins listing every boy you’ve ever come in contact with. “Meeks? You always did like his type. Ooh, or Pitts? He’s a pitiful lady-killer. Todd is another good choice. Knox has got his thing with Chris, so you probably wouldn’t like him unless you’re into getting your heart broken.” He stops his ranting to take a breath, then continues on. “You cannot like Cameron because if you do, I won’t ever talk to you again. It isn’t Cameron, right?”

You scoff. “I don’t have a crush. Stop trying to guess a person that doesn’t exist.”

“Neil?” He questions. You hesitate just a bit before waving away his suggestion. Neil is a very good friend of both yours and his, and truthfully, he would definitely be the best boyfriend out of all of them. Despite that, you do not love him like you love Charlie. Not even close.

He catches on to your hesitation with scary accuracy. The tilt of your head, the twitch of your hand, the way the corners of your mouth almost curved up into a smile. Charlie feels his heart drop. “Oh my god, it’s Neil. Of course it’s Neil, it’s always Neil! You like Neil.” Neil is, unbeknownst to him, a complete catch. It makes sense that you would like him. After all, he’s kind, outgoing, and a whole lot nicer than Charlie is. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Like you, Charlie doesn’t exactly know when you came into his life. Maybe a stuffy dinner party or a prep event- all that matters to him is that you’re here now, and he loves you. He does, however, know when he started loving you.

It was seventh grade at a school dance, and you had decided to go with a boy he barely knew. When the boy asked you out with a pocketed rose and a shy smile, Charlie felt his blood boiling. How dare he, he thought, take you away from him? You’re his best friend. He would have bought you an entire flower shop had you said the word.

Seeing you waltz with him in your pretty outfit, as awkward and stiff as you both were, was too much for him to bear. Charlie left early, prompting you to follow him. The scene that resulted was one you both tried heavily to erase.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” You panted, hurrying after him as fast as your pinchy shoes would allow. “Charlie. Charlie! Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. Just go away.” He sniffled. You turned the corner to see him sitting on a curb, tears tracking down his face. If you knew one thing about Charlie Dalton, it was that he hated crying. You sat down next to him, but he turned to face the trees to his left.

“What happened?” You asked gently. How he despised your gentle care.

“I hate you. Go away.” His voice broke in the middle of his sentence. “I never want to see you again.”

Something in you snapped in that moment, something angry and sad all at once. He was hurting, and you loathed it, but Charlie always got what he wanted in the end.

You stood up and left, muttering a “sorry” over your shoulder.

He tried to avoid you for a while after that, but as with all fated things, he couldn’t stay away for long. He went back to you without a hint of apology, and you took him. Begrudgingly, you just couldn’t be without your best friend for very long.

He knew he loved you then, and that fact hasn’t changed in the present.

“I don’t like Neil.” You insist. “Trust me.”

Charlie stands to pace around his room, talking with his hands as per usual. “Y’know, you always seem smiley around him. I should’ve seen it coming, really. The way you talk to him can’t be platonic.” You sigh from the bed, and Charlie flops down beside you. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s pleasant, like a ray of sun on a cold day. You instinctively move closer to him as he opens his mouth. “I could probably get you a date with him. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, but,” he pauses, a hint of hurt humor in his eyes, “I could be your wingman.”

He doesn’t want to be. He really doesn’t want to be, but what can he do? He would rather see you happy with Neil than miserable with no one. Despite how much he hates it, he’s gotten over most of his prepubescent jealousy. He knows deep down in the very achingly sad part of him that you don’t love him. At least, not the way he loves you.

You’re facing him, your nose inches away from his chest as your heart pounds in yours. He really wants you to get with Neil. Well, if that’s how he feels, you don’t feel the need to reject the offer. Maybe this is just the thing you need. What’s the point in pining after him when he’s actively trying to set you up with his second best friend?

“Yeah. That… I would like that.” Charlie’s heart crumbles in his chest.

“Then I’ll get right on it.” He grins. Behind the smile, sadness is swimming in his eyes, but you don’t bother to look at them.

It’s winter break, one of Charlie’s favorite times of the year, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this sad before.

By the time the next weekend rolled around, you had almost forgotten about Charlie’s proposed setup. But, on this Saturday when you’re cozy in your room, Neil comes knocking at your door.

You open the door, slightly surprised. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers with a small grin on his face. They’re your favorite flowers.

“Hi.” He says. His voice is breathless.

You raise your eyebrows, but for some reason, you can’t help but smile. Neil is standing in your doorway, and you feel like you know what he’s going to ask. “Hey.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” He implores, holding the bouquet out for you to take. “It doesn’t have to be right now, but… I’m ready if you are.” He’s dressed in a crisp suit, and if you’re being honest, you’d hate to make him go home without putting it to use.

You laugh lightly, the feeling bubbling out of your stomach. “Yeah, I’d love that. Just let me get ready and I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

Two days prior to Saturday, Charlie proposed a dead poets town trip. They were milling around, bouncing from shop to shop before Charlie clasped Neil on the shoulder.

“What do you think about Y/N?”

Neil turned, confused. “What do you mean?”

There was a smirk on Charlie’s face, but he hesitated like he didn’t actually want to say the words he was about to say. “I mean, I think you two would be a pretty cute couple.”

Neil let out a huff of air, almost in disbelief. “You’ve been in love with them since seventh grade, Nuwanda. Don’t try to act like you aren’t.”

Charlie gasped exaggeratedly and put a hand over his heart. “How dare you suggest that! I just want the best for my dearest friends.” The others laughed. Every single one of them knew that Charlie harbored deep feelings for you- and every single one of them knew he would never admit it. “Look, just one date. Ask them out on Saturday. They really like you, and I know they’re free, so they can’t pull any excuses.”

“I just don’t know.” Neil admitted. “They’re great and all, but I’d feel bad if I stole away your crush of four years.”

“You won’t be stealing anything, my boy. Just think about it.” Charlie knew he was lying, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he also knew that somehow, he was making the right decision.

Like all of your romantic endeavors, your date with Neil is slightly awkward. He’s your friend, sure, but you’ve never really thought about him like this before. You never even considered dating him. It’s always been Charlie. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to broaden your horizons.

After the initial tension, you would like to believe it went well. Neil walks you out of the restaurant, holding your arm. He’s smiling, and you feel your own expression falter. You like him, you really do, but some part of you knows that he will never be Charlie.

He leans closer to you, almost close enough to touch. Your heart pounds in your chest as he whispers something into your ear. “Don’t look, but Charlie’s watching. Pretend I’m kissing you.”

You’re taken aback as your eyes try to search for his brown hair, but after a second, you comply. You shut your eyes and thread your fingers through Neil’s. To anyone else, especially anyone inside of the restaurant, it looks like you’re smashing tongues with him.

Neil walks you home as the day fades into night, and as much as you ask, your questions are left unanswered with a sly wink.

“I can’t believe you would do that.” Charlie rages. “It was meant to be a date, not a date and a tongue fuck! That was their first kiss, Neil, and you’ve stripped them of it!” He doesn’t know why he’s so outrageously enraged. It was a quick kiss from the boy you’ve been crushing on. He should be overjoyed for you.

“It wasn’t like that, Charlie. Just ask them.” Neil is surprisingly calm, considering his friend is screaming at him. “Ask them. Go on.” He pushes Charlie’s shoulder. “I walked them home.”

Charlie grumbles, his gut twisted into shaking, angry knots. “I will. If they tell me you did anything weird, though, you’re dead.” Neil shakes his head.

“I think you’d kill me even if I didn’t kiss them.”

For the second time, you hear a knock at your door. This one is loud and frenzied, but through the haze, you can tell who it is. Who else would knock so harshly at 11:23 at night? It’s a good four hours after your date, so it definitely can’t be Neil.

You open the door, clad in pajamas and a frown. “Seriously, Charlie? You’re gonna wake the whole neighborhood.”

“Did he kiss you?” Ah, straight to the point. He’s never one to beat around the bush.

“What’s it to you?” You defend. “You didn’t care about that possibility when you wanted me to date him.” You cross your arms. Why the hell is he so upset? You don’t understand anything about this. His motives, his feelings, right now, they’re more confusing than he’s ever been. Well, save for one night. Oddly, this reminds you of that dance a few years back. You don’t want that to happen again, so whatever’s going on has to stop.

He opens his mouth and then closes it like he’s actually considering what he wants to say for the first time in his life. “I just…” A defeated expression tugs his face down. Your heart plummets. You rarely ever see him crestfallen. The last time was four years ago, and you had hoped you would never see him like that again.

He turns to walk away. He can’t do it, he just can’t. He’s walking so fast the pavement under his feet is a blur, and you chase after him.

“Charlie, what are you-“ He turns, seeing the confusion on your face.

When he looks at you, all Charlie can see is love. He loves your voice, the curve of your lips, the way you do anything and everything. In that moment, when he sees you with tired eyes, his inhibitions flee like rabbits from a wolf. Maybe, just maybe, he can.

Before you can ask, yet after you see the fire in his eyes, he grabs your arm and cuts you off.

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, lips parted, not speaking a word. His hair is messy and the tear tracks on his cheeks glisten in the street lights. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted has sprung to life before your eyes. “Yes, but-“

He presses his lips to yours, effectively cutting off any further communication once again. His grip on you softens as his hands reach up to cup your face. Your eyes flutter shut, and a million different things race through your mind. All you can consciously think is that you never want it to end.

When he pulls away, breathless, something new is shining in his eyes. “I hope that wasn’t bad for a second kiss.” He smiles. He’s still worried, more so than he’s ever been, but that was the most amazing thing he thinks he’s ever done.

“Second? Charlie, that was my first.”

He pauses. “So Neil didn’t kiss you?”

You laugh, and upon seeing his even more excited face, you laugh so hard you double over. He joins, and your giggles are probably too loud for how late it is. “No! God no, he told me to pretend because you were watching.” Your voice comes out humorous and strained, with so much joy behind the tone that Charlie can feel himself starting to laugh again. “Were- Were you in the restaurant for our whole date?”

“Yeah.” He chokes out. “I couldn’t just let the love of my life date some other guy without my knowledge, right?”

“Oh, totally. Maybe you should ask me out next time, then, to completely avoid this whole scenario.” He pulls you in, laughing against your shoulder.

“Sure. Yeah, I think I will. Next time, I’ll make sure of it.”

#solar eclipse.#charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #dead poets fandom #dead poets fanfic #dps #dps fanfiction #dps fandom #dps x reader #dps charlie

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anotherstudtouse · 2 months ago

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Behind Enemy Lines

Evil Stepmother x Reader

Summary: You come from a long line of monster hunters. Needless to say, Lady Ashmore has her eye on you.

Warnings: SMUT, blood, choking, biting, smacking, scratching, degradation, death threats, cheating -- I think that's it?

Word Count: 4.5k

A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity — That’s the term your father had used to convince you to come to this ball. The hosts — Lady Ashmore, her daughters, and her step-daughter — have kept their bridge raised and their castle closed to guests ever since Ella’s father died… until now, that is.

You’ve come up with a million reasons not to attend. You’ve got a tavern to tend to, errands to run, training to get to. Amongst your usual work, you’ve been training for combat with your father for the past year or so. Monster hunting, specifically. Long ago, when darkness was eternal and monsters ruled over the lands, your family was at the forefront of the war to reclaim your lands, and your history is something you feel strongly about upholding.

Another thing you feel strongly about is Lady Ashmore herself, though you haven’t worked out yet whether you feel positively or negatively toward her. She’s a regular, actually, at the small tavern you work at, always ordering the strongest drinks you’ve got but never seeming affected by it no matter how many chalices she’s downed. She comes alone and stays roughly an hour each time, sitting in a shadowy corner across from the bar, and for the entirety of her time there, you swear you can feel her eyes on you when you’re not looking.

She makes you feel strange. Uneasy. Guarded. Anxious.

Horny.

It’s a confusing mixture of emotions, especially considering you’ve got a husband. A useless dick of a husband, but a husband nonetheless. It still doesn’t stop you from thinking of her late at night, picturing her intense eyes staring down at you, her dark lips soft on your skin, her low, silky voice hot against your ear, her nails sharp against your back, your inner thighs, your —

Anyway.

Your father feels equally as strongly about her and her daughters, and there’s no confusion there — He distrusts them. He’s incredibly vocal about it whenever you see him, questioning you about your interactions with her, prodding you for your own insights and opinions. You tend to be vague with him, hoping it will avoid an argument about whether you should be interacting with her at all. The truth is… you agree with your father, on some level.

When you were personally invited to the ball two weeks ago by Lady Ashmore herself, you wanted to decline. Something about the woman intrigues you, certainly, but that very same something also makes you feel like you’re in danger. Like you’re her prey. In truth, you distrust Lady Ashmore just as much as your father does. You’d given her a noncommittal answer at the time that she’d seemed displeased by, but she’d accepted it nonetheless, her hand grasping yours for the briefest moment as she’d leaned in and said, “I do hope you decide to come, dear. I bet you’d look positively delicious dressed up for me.”

In the end, you did decide to come. When you’d informed your father during one of your training sessions, you’d expected him to reinforce your knee-jerk reaction to skip it. Instead, he’d jumped on the idea with an enthusiasm you’d rarely seen in him before.

“This is our chance,” he’d said. “If they’re letting people in, this is our chance to find out what they’re hiding.”

You’d been quick to argue. “What happened to wanting me to stay away from them?”

“That was before,” he’d responded, walking up to you to squeeze your shoulder. “But you’re ready now. You’ve learned everything you can from me, and you’ve passed every one of my tests. You can do this.”

You’d hesitated, shaking your head. “Come with me, at least.”

He’d shaken his head right back at you. “You know I can’t do that, sweetheart. She hates me just as much as I hate her. If I’m there, she’ll have her guard up the whole time.”

So, armed with a dagger your father had gifted to you the night before, you approach the entrance to the castle. Swallowing, you glance over at your husband. “Remind me why you insisted on accompanying me to this when we’re barely making ends meet as it is. You should be working.”

Your husband’s wandering eyes never seem to land on you lately, especially tonight. As you watch him ogle a woman on the other side of the vast, beautiful room you’ve just entered, you realize with a frown exactly why he, too, had insisted you accept Lady Ashmore’s invitation. “This could be good for us, that’s why. Do you know how many rich people show up to these things? Trust me — By the end of tonight, we’ll be just as rich as them.” You watch as he grins in what he thinks is a charming manner at a woman in a beautiful blue gown.

Furrowing your brows, you elbow him in the side just enough to hurt him without drawing attention to yourselves. It works; his eyes are finally on you as you speak. “You are not stealing anything. Do you want to get us executed?”

“You wound me! As if I would get caught,” he scoffs.

“James,” you stop walking abruptly, tightening your hold on his arm to force him to stop as well. “I mean it. I don’t want to risk any trouble here.”

“Why? ‘Cause you’re afraid to upset your girlfriend?”

You glance around anxiously, but there’s no sign of the woman in question. “Stop it, she’s not — That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re the only person she personally invited.”

“She’s at the tavern a lot; it was just convenient, that’s all.”

“She’s at the tavern so much for you, Y/N.”

You hate that you can feel your face warming at the idea that James may actually be right. Still, you shake your head. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here.” Now it’s you who can’t look at him.

You hear him sigh, his hand slipping down into yours and squeezing lightly. “Hey, look, I’m sorry. Let’s just have some fun, yeah? I won’t steal anything. Promise.”

You purse your lips, about to just call the whole thing off, when Lady Ashmore enters your line of sight from behind you, her hand brushing against your back before coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Y/N! I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me,” she greets, audibly pleased.

For a second, you’re stunned into silence. She looks gorgeous. She always radiates a sort of elegant yet oddly dark beauty you’ve found yourself captivated by more than once, but tonight she’s truly outdone herself. You find yourself slipping your hand out of your husband’s grasp without thinking, and the motion doesn’t go unnoticed by her. In fact, you swear you see the corners of her lips twitch upward before her eyes meet yours again.

“Of course,” you respond with a smile. “I’m glad I came. You have a beautiful home, my lady.”

Her lips spread into a full-blown smile now. “It’s made more beautiful by your presence, my dear.”

You swallow under her intense gaze, your face warming again. You part your lips to speak, but James beats you to it.

“And I’m glad to be here, too,” he chimes in with a pleasant smile.

“Yes, yes,” she says, waving him off dismissively. “Why don’t you be a gentleman and get us some drinks, hm?”

James glances at you, and when you nod, he shrugs. “Uh, yeah, sure.” Stepping away, he turns and heads off in search of drinks.

Lady Ashmore watches your husband disappear into the crowd before turning back to you. “It makes me so happy that you like my home, Y/N. We haven’t had visitors in so long; I’d feared we wouldn’t make a good impression.”

“Oh, you always make a good impression, don’t worry,” you reassure her immediately. Her face lights up with a smile. You try to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach at the sight.

“You sweet thing,” she coos, stepping closer, almost into your personal bubble. As the band transitions smoothly from one song to another, Lady Ashmore leans into you, dark eyes flicking down to your lips so briefly you’re convinced you imagined it. “How would you like a private tour?”

It certainly sounds like a question, but as she arches her perfect brow at you, you recognize it for what it is — a command. “But my husband— “

“Seems otherwise occupied for the moment,” she interrupts, her expression of faint disgust pointed just past your shoulder.

You follow her gaze and find James talking to an unaccompanied woman in a lovely golden dress. With a sigh, you turn back to Lady Ashmore, trying to ignore your gut telling you to leave this place with or without your husband. You have no reason other than this feeling to feel unsafe in Lady Ashmore’s presence, and besides that, there’s a much stronger feeling inside you that wants to follow this woman wherever she goes.

So, for once, you don’t resist it.

“Of course, my lady,” you answer with a smile that she returns immediately.

“Wonderful.”

__________________________________________

“This is our last stop,” Lady Ashmore announces as you follow her into what you immediately recognize as a bedroom. She stays at the door, shutting it closed as you cross the threshold.

At the sound of a faint click, you turn to face the older woman. You watch her hand retreat from the door. Did she lock it? That familiar sense of unease bubbles up inside you as you meet her eyes. “Is this your bedroom?”

“It is.” She passes you on her way to point up at the wall above the bed; you use the few seconds her eyes are on something other than you as an opportunity to feel for your hidden dagger. Still there. You knew it was, but the reassurance helps settle your anxiety a bit.

“This mural,” she begins, gesturing to a vast painting above the bed, “was the first thing the Ashmores commissioned after this castle was built.”

You tentatively step closer to get a better look. The mural depicts a bearded man in a full suit of armor, his sword drawn and covered in blood. Beside him, the hefty body of a troll lies limp on the ground, its head removed from its body. The man is raising a flag depicting what you recognize to be the Ashmore family crest. The painting looks odd, though. You can see what look like scratch marks in the stone, some deep enough to perhaps be from claws rather than just nails, but they’ve been filled in. The painting itself looks like it has been recently restored.

Lady Ashmore begins to speak again. “The House of Ashmore fought alongside others in the fight to restore the sun.” Her tone is serious and firm, tinged with a hint of disapproval. Your gaze leaves the mural to lock onto her instead as she frowns up at the wall. As your gaze settles, she turns to lock eyes with you. “Your family led them. I wonder how much your father has told you of that.”

You don’t like the turn this conversation has taken. “A bit. Not much.” You’re lying. Can she tell? From the way her eyes narrow, you feel as though she can, so you add, “It was so long ago, though. I’ve got too much to worry about as it is without adding ancient history to the list.”

She huffs a soft laugh, taking slow steps toward you until she’s directly in front of you. “Y/N… My dear, sweet Y/N…” She takes another step, forcing you to step back to maintain any distance, then another, and another, and another, until your lower back hits the edge of a vanity. “Do you think I don’t know what you and your father get up to under the cloak of night?” Her voice is low and calm but with an undeniable edge to it, and her face is close enough to your own that your nose nearly brushes against hers. “The Briarwoods have been a thorn in my people’s sides for too long for me not to keep tabs on the ones living right under my nose.”

Struggling to keep your breathing even, your mind races to come up with a plan. Your cover’s blown, Lady Ashmore is a fucking troll, your only exit is blocked by her body, and somehow despite all this her proximity still makes you want to close the space between you. She’s a fucking troll; why does that make you want her more?!

You can do this. You’re ready. You can do this.

“A thorn in your side, huh? An apt name,” you wait a second to let the confusion sink in before swiftly reaching within a slit in your outfit to pull your dagger free.

“What— ” She cuts herself off as her eyes snap to the movement of your hand. Lightning fast, her own hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist before the blade can find its home in her ribcage. Her grip is strong, stronger than you’d expected, and though you struggle to follow through on your attack, she lets out something between a grunt and a growl as she roughly shoves your wrist against the mirror behind you. The glass cracks and your grip on the dagger releases, the blade clattering to the floor beside the vanity. Her other hand grabs you by the jaw, effectively pinning you.

Chest heaving slightly from adrenaline, Lady Ashmore’s intense stare never leaves your eyes. “Clever whore,” she breathes, lips quirking upward into a smirk. “Not clever enough, I’m afraid.”

Your jaw is clenched as you continue to try to free yourself from her grasp to no avail. You need to think fast or you’re not going to make it out of here alive. You feel Lady Ashmore’s body press into yours, watch her eyes flick down to your lips. They linger this time.

Oh. Perhaps you have an idea.

“Or maybe I’ve finally got you right where I want you,” you husk, your free hand coming to wrap around the wrist of the hand gripping your jaw.

“What’re you talking about? I’m going to kill you, you pathetic little worm.”

“Oh, come on.” You huff a laugh, your grin pressing your cheeks into Lady Ashmore’s sharp, immaculate nails until it stings. She eyes you with a hint of cautious curiosity. “We both know you don’t really want to kill me, my lady. Or do you think I don’t see the way you look at me? The way your touch lingers, as if you never want to let go. Even now as you threaten my life, you can’t stop looking at my lips.”

She’s so close you can feel her shudder as your thumb lightly strokes the inside of her wrist. You watch her throat bob as she swallows. “Credit where credit is due — This tactic of yours is creative. No human’s ever tried to seduce a troll before.”

You can practically see the gears turning in her head. “Creative and successful, it seems.” Your grin turns wolfish; the sight causes Lady Ashmore to dig her nails deeper into the sides of your face until blood is drawn. You suck in a shaky breath at the pain, your grip on her wrist tightening. “My point is… You’re not the only one with needs, my lady. Perhaps we could… work something out.”

She leans closer, gaze drawn to the blood droplets slowly dripping down the side of your face. “I suppose I could settle for… sending a message.”

This is actually working. Not only that — It’s igniting something deep within you, something you’ve been trying to push down for so long. She’s your enemy. You’re supposed to hate her, not crave her, but here you are, pinned to a vanity as that very same enemy leans in, sliding her hand down to your throat to make room for her tongue. She's so close, closer than she's ever been before, and while your father always said that trolls would have a putrid stench to them, she smells surprisingly nice. Too nice. You wonder, briefly, if that's the point.

Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted by Lady Ashmore's tongue as she cleans the blood from your face with one slow lick. You gasp, and she moans at the taste of you, a low, gravelly sound that sends a shiver of arousal down your spine.

“You really want this, don’t you?” She breathes, leaning back just enough to look you in the eye. Whatever she sees there must be enough of an answer for her, because she doesn’t wait for a verbal one before she slams her lips against yours, the force of it causing the back of your head to smack into the mirror.

“Mmh— !” It only takes a second for you to respond, matching her hunger with your own. There’s not much you can do in terms of movement; her hand is firmly wrapped around your throat, fingertips at your jaw again to hold your head in place. She pushes her tongue past your lips and into your mouth, pulling a groan from your throat that she practically swallows. The kiss is deep and all-consuming, a far cry from your husband's. His have always been slow and gentle, while Lady Ashmore's hungry, probing kiss feels as though she's trying to consume you and every little sound you make for her.

You’re quickly learning that Lady Ashmore gets off on being completely in control, but you’re not going down without a fight. As soon as her tongue leaves your mouth, you bite down on her bottom lip as hard as you can until you taste iron. With a surprised grunt, she jerks away, eyes wide. Slowly, you lick her blood off your lips, watching her eyes darken as she takes in the sight of it.

“Now we’re even,” you tease.

Lady Ashmore’s chest heaves with each ragged breath, dangerously silent, until finally she speaks, one bloodstained corner of her split-open lips slowly spreading into a smirk that screams trouble. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Before you can even think to respond, she releases you entirely. For the first time in the past few minutes, you can take a full breath, an opportunity you immediately take advantage of while this troll in human skin grabs at your clothing and begins to rip it off your body. “Whoa, hey, that was expens— Agh!” Your words are interrupted by a harsh smack across your face, the blood from your puncture wounds now smeared on your cheek. Stunned, you don’t move until Lady Ashmore grabs your face again to direct your attention back to her.

“Silence,” she growls, “or else.”

Part of you wants to bite back with some venom of your own, but the look on her face coupled with the lingering sting on your cheek keeps you in check. She waits for any hint of disobedience, staring you down with a fire in her eyes that excites you more than you’d care to admit. You've never seen her quite like this before; you've seen hints of her desire for you, but this unbridled hunger is new. It takes your breath away in an even more effective manner than her hand's previous position wrapped firmly around your throat.

“So you can behave.” She laughs, a low, condescending sound. You want to devour it almost as much as you want her to devour you. “Now stay still and stay quiet.” Leaning down, she pulls the tattered remains of your clothing off your body until they’re pooled at your feet, her teeth sinking into the soft skin of your neck just above your shoulder. Your hands fly up to grab onto her shoulders as you gasp. Biting down on your lip, you desperately try to follow her order to stay quiet as Lady Ashmore digs her teeth into you. It hurts, it burns — It feels so fucking good. A weak, pathetic whine escapes your throat despite your best efforts to keep it in and, soon, you feel that familiar slow, warm trickle of blood. There’ll be no hiding this mark after all is said and done here.

Sharp nails rake up your bare abdomen on their way to your breasts. Lady Ashmore’s hands are hot on your chest as she gropes you and soothes your new open wound with her tongue. You can feel her suck in a shuddering breath against you. “Sweet girl, you’re trembling,” she speaks softly and sweetly, a sharp contrast to the harsh twist her fingers give your nipples. You struggle to hold back a moan, jerking slightly underneath the harsh touch. Her voice is firm now when she adds, “Tell me why.”

Releasing the hold your teeth had on your lip, you realize you’ve made it bleed, your human blood mixing with the blood belonging to the troll in front of you. “Feels good,” you whine, arching your back into Lady Ashmore’s demanding touch. Your eyes find hers, and as you watch her gaze lower to your bleeding lip, the two of you seem to get the same idea at the same time. Her hand grabs your chin as your hands curl into fists around the collar of her dress; together, you pull each other in, your lips meeting in the middle. A groan that you honestly can’t tell the source of anymore is muffled in the heat of her tongue sliding against your own, saliva and blood mixing together. Her hand slides from your jaw to your hair, pulling your head back roughly until you’re baring your throat to her once more. She trails hot, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your neck while her free hand slides down your abdomen.

“Please,” you beg, breathless and needy and past the point of feeling ashamed for wanting this. No, not wanting this — Needing this. You’ve spent your whole life looking for your rightful place in it, and finally, you feel as though you’ve found it in Lady Ashmore's unforgiving embrace. You feel her hand slide between your legs, wasting no time at all before touching you right where you need her, and it’s at that moment you realize just how sopping wet you are.

“Such a fucking whore, begging for me to take you,” she growls against your collarbone, nipping at the skin just hard enough to pull a whimper from your throat. You groan, hips bucking into her hand as she begins to rub tight, rapid, merciless circles around your swollen clit. “What do you think your husband would think if he could see you now? Or your father? Do you think he’d still be proud of you if he knew you’d been defiled by a troll?”

“I don’t care; I just want you,” you answer, voice shaky. Your answer surprises you both; Lady Ashmore leans back to look you in the eye, a brow arched, curiosity swimming in her eyes. There's something else there, too; you're too far gone under her touch to decipher it.

“Well-said,” she husks. “I think that little act of familial rebellion has earned you a reward.” With that said, she stops rubbing you and releases your hair, instead dropping to her knees to wrench your legs open. Wide eyes glazed over with lust watch her every move, and she meets them with her own as she pulls one of your legs over her shoulder before beginning a quick trail of hot kisses up your inner thigh. Her nails dig into your sensitive skin, her teeth giving you occasional harsh nips that make you jump and gasp.

As she finally reaches where you need her most, she takes a deep breath, exhaling with a deep shudder. “Delicious,” is the last thing she says before her mouth is on you, licking a long stripe from your entrance up to your sensitive clit.

“Fuck,” you moan quietly. She keeps her eyes locked onto yours as she begins to sloppily devour your cunt, alternating between lapping your juices up with her tongue and wrapping her lips around your clit to suck on it. The tip of her tongue swirls around the sensitive bundle of nerves as you rock your hips into her face. “Oh gods,” you whimper. She groans, the sound vibrating against your clit, and your hands grip the edge of the vanity so tightly your knuckles turn white. “My lady, I— I’m going to— ”

“Cum for me. Cum in my mouth, whore,” she moans against your dripping cunt. Her tongue, hot and covered in your juices, flicks your clit. “Give yourself to me. Now.”

It only takes a few more seconds of her tongue dipping inside you once, twice, three times before moving upward to swirl around your clit once more for you to hurl over the edge into the hardest orgasm of your life. “Yes! Yes! I’m yours! Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!” Your words quickly turn into unintelligible moans and whimpers as your legs snap closed around Lady Ashmore’s head. She doesn’t let up, ravenously eating your dripping wet cunt as if it's her last meal, and that coupled with the fact that you know it has nothing to do with you begging her to keep going and everything to do with her planning on it no matter what only intensifies your orgasm.

Finally, as you go limp against the vanity, Lady Ashmore pulls away with a satisfied sigh. She licks her lips and rises to her feet as she watches you catch your breath.

“Just give me a minute,” you breathe, reaching out for her. “Give me a minute and I’ll return the favor.” As you speak, she takes the hand you’ve offered and leans into you as she looks over the wounds she inflicted upon you in the heat of passion.

“Beautiful,” she whispers, quiet enough that you barely catch it. She tears her gaze away to look down as she searches for something on her person, then pulls out a silk handkerchief. Carefully — and much more gently than you expected — she dabs at the blood on your neck and face.

You stare in wonder at her as she cleans you. “I didn’t take you for the ‘aftercare’ type,” you joke, voice soft and slightly hoarse.

Amused eyes rise to meet yours. “Or perhaps I’m just collecting your blood for later use.”

You try to hide your rising anxiety at the possibility of truth in that statement with a huff of laughter. “Oh, duh. I knew that.”

“Mmhm,” she hums, unconvinced and smiling now.

As she finishes and tucks the handkerchief back inside her dress, you tilt your head to the side. The sting of the mark on your neck is deliciously strong, and you wince slightly at the feeling of it. “You said you’ve been keeping an eye on me because of my family. Is that... the only reason?"

There’s a moment of hesitation before she steps out of your reach, turning away before you can see her face. “Yes.”

You furrow your brows, standing straight now. “… Ah. Right.”

“You should go,” she says, dusting off her dress. “You will put on one of my dresses and leave my home immediately.”

You blink. “But— ”

Finally, she turns back to you, tilting her head as she glares. “Go now before I change my mind and kill you like I should’ve done in the first place.”

Stunned, you slowly stand up straight before moving to find replacement clothing — and maybe a scarf of some sort to hide the bite mark on your neck for now. The puncture wounds on your face can be passed off as something innocent. You put the clothes on in silence before heading toward the door, clicking it unlocked, and opening it. You pause, looking back at her one final time, but she’s turned away again, staring up at that mural.

“Good night, my lady,” is the last thing you say before you make your exit. As you start the search for your husband, you try to push down the feeling, despite Lady Ashmore’s abrupt change of attitude, this isn’t the end for the two of you — even if it should be.

#angela giarratana x reader #cc evil stepmother x reader #cc evil stepmother #angela giarratana smut #cinderella’s castle x reader #cinderella’s castle evil stepmother x reader #evil stepmother x reader #i think this is my longest fic #when i say this character woke something up in me i damn well meant it lmao #starkid x reader

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7ndipity · 1 year ago

Text

False Pretenses

fwb!Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Just how fair does the ‘benefits’ aspect between Friends with Benefits actually extend? Based on this meme.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: crack to fluff, suggestive moments and ending, swearing, Jk has side by side washer/dryer units cause it’s funnier, reader’s referred to as ‘Ma’am’, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Sorry it took me soo long to get to, I hope you’ll still like it tho! (I’ll also be posting a couple more pieces with this pairing in the next couple weeks, so keep your eyes peeled if you liked this)

Masterlist

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It was the type of text you had gotten more than used to receiving from him over the past few months, smirking down at your phone as you waited for the elevator in his building.

“Need you so bad rn. Come over?❤”

The heart was a new addition, he must be feeling particularly needy today, you thought to yourself as the elevator doors finally opened.

Since the two of you had established this new part of your friendship, it was rare for you to go more than four or five days without receiving some variation of the same short message from him.

You were still slightly surprised by his text, seeing as you had only been over the night before, but you weren’t complaining by any means. Though you may have enjoyed pretending that Jungkook was the needier one in your arrangement, if you were completely honest, you were just as affected by him, finding yourself missing him on the nights you didn’t spend together.

When he opened the door, you noticed he looked a little more disheveled than usual, his hair sticking up all over the place, as if he’d been running his hands through it, a habit you knew he did when he was stressed.

“You got here fast.” He noted, letting you into the apartment.

“Well, your text made it sound kinda urgent, didn’t want to leave you waiting too long.” You said, wandering through into the living room, slowing to a stop as you caught sight of the chaotic state of the space, cleaning supplies and laundry scattered around, furniture moved all out of place.

“What happened in here?” You asked, turning back to Jungkook, who was now avoiding your eyes. “Koo?”

“I lied, I didn’t want sex.” He said guiltily, looking up at you. “I need you to help me clean.”

“I-, what?” You blinked at him, unsure if you heard him correctly.

He slumped back against the counter, looking stressed as he ran his hand through his hair again. ”My parents decided to surprise me by announcing they’re coming to visit tomorrow, but I’ve done nothing but sleep since I got home from tour last week, so the house is a fucking mess and everything’s a disaster and I need help, please.” He pleaded, staring at you.

You immediately began pulling your coat back on, turning back towards the door. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Y/n, please!” He quickly followed after you, catching your sleeve. “I’ll do anything you want! I’ll buy you dinner, I’ll rub your back, I’ll even let you pick what we watch for a month!”

You paused, turning to look back at him with a raised brow. “Even if I want to re-watch ‘Our Beloved Summer’ for a third time?”

He bit lip, trying to fight back a pained grimace before nodding slowly. “Whatever you want.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

“Fine.” You said reluctantly, caving as you saw the genuine desperation in his eyes. You could never say no to him.

“Thank you!” He sang, catching you in a tight hug and spinning you around in a circle. “I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

“Yeah, whatever,” You grumbled as he set you back on your feet. “Where do we start?”

“Laundry room?” He offered. “It’s mostly done, I just need to vacuum behind the machines.”

Do you really think your mom’s gonna look back there?” You raised a brow, following him down the hall.

“She’s very thorough.” He said seriously.

“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “I don’t quite see why I’m necessary for this part though?”

“I was afraid if I tried to clean back there by myself, I’d slip and get stuck or die.”

“So you want me to slip and die behind your washer instead?” You shot him an accusatory look.

“No! I’ll hold onto you and keep you safe,” He smiled reassuringly. “You know, like the buddy system.”

“I thought the buddy system was for camping so you didn’t get lost or eaten by bears?”

“It’s a multi-purpose system!” He said, his earlier agitation starting to flare up again at your teasing. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it, pass me the vacuum.” You relented, boosting yourself up on top of the dryer.

He held onto your hips to keep you balanced as you cleaned, his mind beginning to wander as he stared at your ass, his fingers starting to slowly knead your flesh absent-mindedly.

“Koo.” You warned, shooting him a quick look.

“Right, sorry.” He snapped back to attention, ceasing his movements and focusing back on the task at hand.

You finished up quickly, passing the vacuum attachment back to him and letting him help you down.

“Thank you.” He said.

“You’re welcome.” You answered, looking around expectantly. “What’s next?”

The apartment wasn’t nearly as bad of a mess as he claimed it to be, but it still took both of you several hours of work to get everything back in order, finishing off with laundry and changing all the bedding.

“Why are these sticky?!” You asked, mildly horrified as you helped him strip the sheets off his bed.

“Relax, it’s just caramel sauce.” He said.

You looked up at him confused. “We didn’t use-?”

“No no, that was just me,” He explained quickly. “I had ice cream last night.”

“Without me?!” You said, clutching your chest in feign hurt, making him roll his eyes as he let out a huff of laughter.

“I’ll add that to the list of things I need to make up for, okay?” He said.

“Eh, it’s better than where my mind went.” You said, only half joking as you grabbed the fresh sheets from him and turned back to the bed. “Almost thought you were fucking around behind my back for a second there.”

Facing away from him, you missed the way his expression suddenly turned serious as he looked at you. “I would never.”

It was strange, despite the supposedly ‘casual’ nature of your arrangement, you both found yourselves making little comments like that, words and exchanges that sounded a lot more like things said between a committed couple, rather than just two friends helping each other out till you found something more serious.

“Alright, I think that’s everything.” You said, snapping him out of his thoughts. You had finished making up the bed, even turning down the covers for him.

“Thank you, y/n.” He said gratefully. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Probably called Hobi.” You smirked, making him snort.

“Now, you promised me food, and if you lie to me twice in the same day, I’m dumping your ass.” You said, earning another laugh from him.

“Alright, whatever you want, just like I said.” He said, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“Although, if you wanted, I could make up for my false pretenses from earlier in a different way?” He offered, eyes darkening slightly as his hands drifted over your hips

You lightly shoved his hands away. “Not a chance, Loverboy, I’m way too tired now. You’ll have to try and ‘make it up to me’ some other time.”

“How about tomorrow?” He said, eyes twinkling mischievously, looping his arms around your waist instead to keep you close.

“I thought your parents were coming over tomorrow?” You reminded, raising a brow at him.

“You could come over after.” He suggested. “Hell, you could even come to dinner with us, my parents like getting to meet my friends.”

“Friends?” You looked up at him skeptically.

“Yeah, what?” He laughed, squeezing you lightly.

“Do you let your other friends suck your di-?”

“They don’t need to know the details of our relationship!” He said quickly, his face flushing slightly, making you snicker. “You’re still my friend, one of my best friends actually.” He added, in a soft tone.

The way he said it made your heart twist in a weird way, though you didn’t quite understand why.

“So?” He asked, staring down at you hopefully. “Will you come?”

You chewed your lip, considering. It felt like a really big commitment to meet his family, regardless of what your relationship was, but you tell it would mean a lot to him if you said yes.

“I’ll think about it.” You said finally.

He beamed.

“Thank you!” He said, leaning in to kiss you again, his lips lingering longer this time, tracing over yours lightly, making you shiver.

You pressed closer to him, hooking your arms around his neck as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue delve into his mouth as his hands grip on your waist tightened.

When you pulled back for air, his pupils were blown wide, eyes almost black as he stared down at you, breathing heavily.

“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, your breaths equally unsteady.

“But I thought you said-?”

“I changed my mind.” You cut him off, tugging at the fabric impatiently. “Shirt off, now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn

#jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook smut #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #fwb!jungkook #bts drabble #bts one shot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts requests #7ndipity

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random-databank · 2 months ago

Note

Requesting Zhu Yuan, Nicole, Lucy with a s/o who curse alot please

Hi and sorry to disappear off the face of the earth again; I’ve been quite busy. Long story short, I forgot about ZZZ and didn’t want to write for characters until I could be certain the story quests hadn’t changed them too much. Good news, I am now completely caught up!

Thank you for your admirable patience and I hope you enjoy :)

Nicole, Zhu Yuan, and Lucy x Reader (separate, romantic)

Contains: gender neutral reader, somehow no actual swearing (unless you count "hell" lmao)

Nicole

She thinks nothing of it at first. She definitely swears from time to time, whether it be due to a particularly dangerous job or another upcoming bill.

When she really starts paying attention to you and your habits, though, she realizes you curse way more than average. It’s actually a little funny. She’ll hear a string of expletives and expect that you’ve tripped, lost a video game, or something equally trivial.

While Nicole takes a more lighthearted approach at first, she later discovers that you curse just as much when it comes to bigger concerns. She learns to take more care, now always checking on your well-being just in case something is really wrong.

Most of the time it’s nothing worrisome, and she’ll just chuckle and give you a kiss on the cheek.

In terms of expletives mixed into normal conversation, she’ll sometimes count how many times you add swear words into otherwise innocuous sentences. Nicole never tells you, but she keeps track of your current record for a single sentence.

She finds it endearing, and would honestly miss it if you stopped.

Zhu Yuan

She’s heard a lot worse.

Granted, she’s used to hearing curses from those she’s tasked to apprehend, so the first few times, she definitely had to do a double take.

Most see Zhu Yuan as a very stern, by-the-books individual. She is, of course, but she’s also a lot more open-minded than expected- which is to say, your language doesn’t faze her.

If you’re in public and she sees small children or elders in the vicinity, sometimes she’ll give you a gentle nudge, or take your hand as a reminder to tone it down a bit.

Over time, to her it became something that was just a part of you. On the rare occasion that something upsets you so much you go quiet instead of turning to colorful language, she learns to be worried.

Lucy

The idea of being able to use any type of language she pleases is a relatively new one that came with her leaving home. She has yet to explore it fully though, speaking in a more formal manner until she realizes it sounds out of place in the Outer Ring.

That being said, cursing does not come naturally to her. She doesn’t mind hearing other people do it, viewing it as a newer and novel experience, but she tends to keep her language relatively clean out of instinct. Meeting you really desensitized her, and she has now grown to expect colorful language every time the two of you meet.

As well as being her wonderful significant other, to her you are a shining example of the freedom one has to do whatever they want outside the complicated rules and expectations of fine society. It was part of why she felt herself so drawn to you in the first place- but of course, she’d never admit it.

After a long time of being together, you start to notice Lucy cursing a little more frequently. She denied it when you first brought up the matter, but her argument died quickly when you pointed out her chosen phrasing:

“Of course you can talk however the hell you want. I’m just saying that’s not how you’d have put it a few months ago.”

With a red face, she sputters out that she’s just been trying some things out, and stalks off. It’s rare to see her flustered like that, so you decide to give her some time to regain her bearings before mentioning it again.

Congratulations, you’ve corrupted her.

#zenless zone zero x reader #zenless zone zero #zzzero x reader #zzzero #zhu yuan x reader #nicole demara x reader #zzz lucy x reader #zzz nicole x reader

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paperultra · 2 years ago

Text

eye to eye.

Pairing: OPLA!Monkey D. Luffy x Reader Word Count: 781 words Warnings: None

He’s been staring for five minutes now.

Five minutes and thirty-three seconds, to be exact. Twenty-seven more seconds and it’ll be six minutes, and you don’t know if you can handle six minutes of him looking at you; everyone on this ship has fallen prey to those big brown eyes, and you are certainly no exception – how many times have you scraped off the last portion of your meal onto his plate, or let him trail after you and chatter away while you did inventory, or sat on the figurehead with him despite your fear of heights because of those eyes? The answer is more than once, and you know you’d do it again in a heartbeat as you finally look up from your newspaper.

“You need anything, Luffy?”

“Nope,” he says.

He continues to stare at you, that achingly wide, sunny grin on his face. You blink. He does too.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“... Well,” you say slowly, more befuddled as the seconds tick by – surely, it’s now been over six minutes – “do you want something?”

(There is always a ninety-two percent chance that Luffy wants something, concrete or not. Seventy percent of the time it is concrete, and the thing he wants is food.)

Luffy shakes his head. He props his elbows onto his knees and rests his chin in his hands, and you swear you see his eyes sparkle underneath the tattered brim of his straw hat.

“I just like looking at your face,” he chirps.

The force of those few words is enough to stop your heart in your chest. It stutters in place, then starts again, jumping with glee.

“H-Huh?”

“I like looking at your face,” he repeats as if you didn’t hear it the first time.

You lick your lips, grappling for something to say in response to such a strange answer. “It’s … it’s not much to look at,” you finally say, curling up out of habit. “There’re better faces out there.”

“But I want to look at yours.” Luffy jabs a finger towards you. You shrink back a bit, cheeks beginning to warm. “And there’s lots to look at, like your nose and eyes and stuff.”

You wonder if you should take that as a compliment. But Luffy doesn't do compliments; he only does the truth, and maybe that makes what he’s said infinitely more valuable.

"Thanks for noticing," you reply, awkward but fond. He nods happily, and you find yourself adding, "I like looking at your face too."

It's not a lie, nor an attempt to return the favor. You do like looking at Luffy's face. You like the wild, coal-black curls framing it, the perpetually goofy smile, the scar, the eyes that turn into dark honey in the sunlight. The eyes that look back at you and promise freedom and joy and everything good the world has to offer.

"You do?" He sounds very pleased and scoots closer. "That's great! We can look at each other."

"Won't that get boring after a while?"

"If it does, we can go and eat something."

You snort, face now very hot as you move to sit cross-legged. "You're funny, Luffy."

And so you look at Luffy, and Luffy looks at you, knees touching and the room still with a few rare seconds of contemplative silence. A few seconds, because that is all you can take before you dissolve into giggles, half flustered and half entertained. (This is how you often are around him nowadays.)

It isn't long before Luffy joins you, and the two of you end up lying on the floor, cackling until you're out of breath.

"Ahhh! That was fun," Luffy gasps once he can speak coherently again. "Now let's get something to eat!"

"You're bored already?" you ask in between gulps of air.

"No, but I'm hungry." With a grunt, he rolls back and catapults himself onto his feet, then picks you up and sets you down to stand before tugging on your arm. "Let's ask Sanji to make us a snack."

You nod, and soon enough, the floor of the Going Merry thrums with the sound of two scruffy pairs of shoes running over it, laughter bouncing off the walls as Luffy's hand grips yours. It's the same way he holds your heart, tightly but kindly. You squeeze back.

Three words balance on the tip of your tongue. You swallow them.

One day, you think. One day, he will look at you like he did today, and you will tell him how much a person like him means to a person like you.

But right now, you're going to ask Sanji to make you and Luffy something to eat.

#opla #one piece #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy #opla luffy #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #this could also be read as platonic tbh #i think all of luffy's friends are platonically in love w him a lil bit :))#finally wrote a fic for our favorite captain of the straw hats !!! he's such a silly guy lol i love him

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birinboom · 1 month ago

Text

My Roommate and I

Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Word count: 6,336 words Summary: You don’t know your roommate all that well. He’s fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he isn’t around enough for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate loses IRL access to his friends. Genre: Quirkless AU, roommates to lovers, pandemic fic, forced proximity, domestic fluff, romance Warning: mention of past Kiri-Mina, food/eating, swearing, alcohol, Eijiro calls Reader ‘babe’ Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! 💖💖💖

The first time you meet Eijiro, you could only describe him as big and bright. Big and bright smile, big and bright personality, big stature in a bright outfit, big and bright hair. You wonder briefly if his hair is dyed and whether he dyes it himself. Then you shrug. The two of you have separate bathrooms so if he leaves red dye streaks everywhere, that’s his own problem. He can take it up with the landlord when he eventually moves out.

You’re happy, though, that he agreed to meet up with you before moving in. You'd be a bit freaked out seeing a stranger in your home, even if you knew that he’d be moving in. And this makes it easier to sit down with him early on to go over some general rules and a chore chart for the common areas.

It turns out that Eijiro’s a pretty decent roommate. He keeps his clutter out of the kitchen and living room, he cleans his assigned areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of this, you think, is probably attributed to him only really using his room for sleep. You rarely see him outside of early mornings when you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever a guy like him does, only coming home long after you've retired to your own room.

You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.

Time passes. You count yourself lucky, hearing some of your friends’ horror stories about their roommates from hell.

Then the pandemic lockdowns happen.

You’re fortunate that you’re able to do your job remotely. Eijiro, however, is fired; he tells you so in passing. But he quickly adds that he’ll get by on unemployment until he finds another job, so no need to worry!

You're honestly surprised that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he unfortunately doesn't, which means that you’re now stuck with him constantly at home. And you learn yet another aspect of his personality: just how frustratingly loud he can be. He cranks the volume on video calls with his friends -to the point where you can hear their voices clearly through his headphones- and he laughs boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down with a sheepish ‘whoops, my roomie got mad’ when you poke your head out of your room to scowl at him, it still frustrates you to no end. You still have work for goodness’ sake!

You soon come to realize that Eijiro’s very existence is loud, even when he’s not yapping with his friends. It seems that all he does during his waking hours is never-ending chit-chat and exercising in the middle of the living room, grunting up a storm. These two things sometimes happen at the same time, making you want to scream.

Adding onto your frustrations are his so-called ‘cooking experiments,’ the stench of burned food often hanging in the air for hours after he finishes cooking, pots and pans left to soak overnight. You do have to admit, though, that they might very well need the soaking, given the amount of charred food on them. And Eijiro usually cleans them up the next morning without prompting. Usually.

It’s just two more weeks, you tell yourself, then things will open up again and he can go spend time SOMEWHERE ELSE!

Things go on like this for months, your urge to throw him out a window slowly growing with each day.

Then, one Saturday morning, you find him sitting at the dining table, eyes red-rimmed and nose running. Your first thought is that he caught covid. But there’s something off about the scene; Eijiro isn’t behaving like someone who’s sick. He absentmindedly moves his cereal around in the bowl, lifts the spoon, then lowers it again. His breathing stutters, he hiccups, then lets out a shaky sigh. And it hits you; he’s not sick, nor is he potentially hungover. He’s trying his best to not cry.

You almost wish you could back into your bedroom, pretend like you didn’t notice anything to give him some privacy. But it’s too late.

“Oh!” you hear him croak as he sees you, followed by a very wet sniffle.

Guess I’m dealing with this now, you think. The two of you had a pretty decent -if almost non-existent- relationship before the lockdown, right? You really ought to be a good roommate.

“Are you alright?” you ask. It seems stupid in hindsight, he’s clearly far from alright.

And Eijiro admits as much.

“I… … no.”

You watch as he clenches his teeth, lower lip wobbling, trying to breathe through whatever this is. And you sigh. Yeah, it’s time to be a good roommate.

Moving into the kitchen, you begin fixing your own bowl of cereal. You figure this conversation might be easier for him if you’re not looking straight at him. He’s always seemed like the type of hyper-masculine person who’d hate crying in front of others.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Eijiro sniffles again. He’s silent for a moment, then he draws in a deep, shaky breath. “I’m so fucking lonely,” he admits.

Humming in response, you eye the pot of coffee he made earlier. Surely he won’t mind if you have some, not when you’re listening to him vent. You pull a cup from the cupboard.

“But you talk with your friends all the time, don’t you?” You have to fight not to make a snippy comment about how loud they usually are; now isn’t the time for that.

He shifts in his seat. “’S not the same,” he says, then adds in a smaller voice, “Not at all.”

Placing your filled coffee cup next to you, you finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter, cereal bowl balanced in one hand. Sitting in front of him at the table still feels a bit too intimate with the mood he’s in.

His silhouette is dark against the light from the window at the end of the room, mirroring his emotions. You realize that his hair isn’t styled into the normal spikes; instead it’s drooping around his face, making him seem smaller, almost like he’s folding in on himself. Like he’s trying to hide. You barely recognize him.

“How is it not the same?” you ask, deciding to prod just a little bit. “Is it because you’re not in the same room?”

“It’s not just that!” he responds. “I can kinda get there if I really crank the volume, but…”

Oh, you think, is that why he prefers it so loud? Here you just thought he was obnoxious and had no respect for your working hours. Or your sleep.

“But?” you prod again.

Eijiro sighs deeply. When he speaks again, his voice croaks with held-back tears. “I miss physical touch. We’re pretty tight, me ‘n my friends. We hug each other a lot.” He sighs again; it almost sounds like his heart is breaking. “Not being in the same room as them, not being able to hear their voices except through headphones - it already hurts. But not being able to reach out and touch them is… it’s so much worse.”

He swallows hard, then continues, “Denki’s roommate moved back home with their parents; to assist them, I think. So he’s alone too. He cried on our call yesterday. And I couldn’t do anything; couldn’t offer him a tissue, or a hug, or anything!”

You have no idea who Denki is. But it strikes you that Eijiro described him as ‘alone too.’ Denki, it seems, really is alone if his roommate has moved out. Did Eijiro truly see himself in the same situation, even with you here? You swallow hard. Maybe you haven’t been as good a roommate as you thought.

Looking at the cereal bowl in your hand, you absentmindedly stir it, much like Eijiro had done with his own bowl just a moment before. Seems like you might have misjudged him too, if he truly gives physical affection to his friends as freely as he just described. You hadn’t expected that - you’ve always seen him as the classic, super macho gym-nut who might catch the gay if he’s in the vicinity of the color pink. Not that he’s ever given you any reason to believe that, you slowly realize. This was all your own prejudice. You really haven’t been a good roommate. And that realization stings.

Looking at Eijiro again, you feel like you see him in a different light. You read an article just the night before about how the pandemic has left a lot of people touch-starved when they can’t participate in their usual social activities.

The article suggested moving in with friends, with family, even with friends-with-benefits, just to stave off touch-starvation and loneliness. You have to admit that you feel a bit touch-starved too, now that you can’t spend time with your friends or family. And isn’t there something about humans needing a certain amount of touch a day to thrive?

Eijiro’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

"D’ya think I could have a hug?" he asks, finally facing you, his eyes brimming with tears.

You realize in that moment that a hug sounds really, really great. And maybe this is an opportunity to actually get to know your roommate. Especially when you don’t know how long this pandemic will last. The promise of two weeks to flatten the curve has already been extended several times.

Putting your cereal bowl on the counter, you wordlessly spread your arms. Eijiro is up in an instant, chair clattering against the floor. Then you find yourself swept up in what you can only describe as a bone-crushing embrace. You know he’s buff, but you haven’t realized just how strong he is. Gasping for air, you tap his biceps.

“Not so tight!” you wheeze.

Eijiro lets out what you can only describe as a wet bark of laughter. But he loosens his grip on you instantly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, sniffling again. “Got a bit too enthusiastic.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “Guess you really needed it.”

It’s comforting, you realize, as you sink back into the embrace. He’s warm, and his arms around you feel safe for some reason. You can almost imagine falling asleep standing like this, certain that he’ll keep you upright. But you want your coffee while it’s still hot.

Eijiro seems reluctant to let go when you begin pulling away, scrubbing at his face behind your back.

Finally, he looks at you again, tear streaks on his cheeks. “Think we could do this again sometime?” he asks shyly.

You smile at him and nod. “Yeah. I think we’re both gonna need it.”

Eijiro blows his nose again, managing to make a sound reminiscent of a trumpeting elephant.

“Sorry ‘bout all that,” he says, sniffling once more. “Crying to you wasn’t exactly manly of me.”

Resting your elbows on the dining table, you tilt your head and look at him over the rim of your coffee cup. “Crying is human. It’s not feminine, it’s--”

“That’s not what I mean,” he interrupts. “I agree, nothing shameful about crying; I meant complaining ‘bout all my issues. It’s not manly of me to put that burden on you.”

You decide to ignore the issue of not wanting to ask for help for now. Instead you say, “We’re gonna be stuck together for a while. I want to at least try to help. Besides, this might be better for both of us in the long run. Being at home all the time hasn’t exactly been great for me either…”

Eijiro nods thoughtfully, pulling his bowl of soggy breakfast closer. You look towards the movement, your brows furrowing.

“Is that my cereal?”

He looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. “You… you said I could have some, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh at his expression. “I did! I’m not going back on that, don’t worry! I’ve just never seen you eat sugary cereal before.”

Eijiro relaxes again, then gives a small shrug. “Felt like I needed a sweet treat today.”

“Don’t we all these days...”

You take another sip of your coffee, then look back to the man at the opposite side of the table.

“I think we need to put down some new rules while we’re both home all the time. The voice calls with your friends are really starting to bother me, especially when I’m working.”

He nods. “Yeah, kinda figured. I swear I’m trying to be quieter, but I always end up forgetting when I’m in the middle of it. I’ll try talking with everybody, see if we can find a different time or something. Maybe meet up outside once the weather’s better…” Leaning back in his chair, Eijiro scrubs at his face. “If only I could find a new job, then I’d actually have something to occupy me. Haven’t had any luck though.”

You realize with a pang of guilt that you don’t even know what he does for a living. Or… did. But Eijiro just grins when you tell him as much.

“Guess I was never really around so you could ask. I was a fitness instructor at this privately owned gym. They had to close because of the pandemic, but the owners promised me that if they have any hope of keeping the gym going I’ll be back on payroll once they open up again. They only really let me go so I could get unemployment.” He sighs fondly. “I really like them, they’re so… manly!”

You fight not to make a face. There it is again. Manly. Manliness isn’t exactly something you’d be looking for in a gym, but you guess you also aren’t a masculine gym-nut. At least Eijiro isn’t nearly as bad as you had originally thought.

You really do fight not to make a face… But you fail. And Eijiro notices instantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… I’m not sure I’d personally want to go to a ‘manly’ gym.”

He just blinks at you for a moment. “Not sure why you think that-- oh.” He laughs to himself. “I need to explain something. ‘Manly’ doesn’t mean masculine to me. ’S not based on gender at all. When I was a kid I used to be a really big fan of this action hero, Crimson Riot - do you know him?”

You shake your head. Never heard of the guy.

“He had this habit of calling things he favored ‘manly,’” Eijiro explains. “It was a way of living, a way of staying true to yourself, or so he’d say. Guess I never grew out of this way of seeing things.

“But the owners,” he continues, “they’re a gay couple, and they’re some of the sweetest and most helpful people I’ve ever met. They face a lot of prejudice but they never let it get to them. They choose to stay kind. It’s awesome. It’s… It’s manly! You see?”

You look at him for a moment. Then you nod. “Yeah, I… I think I do.”

Eijiro beams at you. “I think you’d like the gym. We’re very supportive, and we take harassment complaints very seriously. One of my buds was a regular when it was still open, and she told me she felt very safe there.” He chuckles. “Though anyone who wanted to harass her should fear her, not the management. She’s never been shy about punching someone in the gut. And it hurts!”

You raise your brows. “Wait, she’s punched you??”

Eijiro grins. “Yeah! … Wait no, not because I deserved it; I asked her to! She wanted to know if she could do anything to punch better, so I said ‘well, punch me!’ and she did. It was perfect, 10/10 no notes. Took me close to 15 minutes to be able to breathe regularly again.”

Smiling to himself, he adds, “Mina is one of the manliest girls I know. Been friends since high school and she’s always been unabashedly herself. She really helped me grow into the person I am today.”

Mina. He sounds so fond when he speaks of her. You can’t help but wonder if there’s something more there than he’s admitting. Pushing the thought away, you focus on Eijiro again.

“I guess being a personal trainer explains why you’re constantly exercising. I thought you were just obsessed with it.”

Eijiro shrugs with a smile. “I’m actually working out more than I did before getting fired. I’m used to being on my feet and moving almost constantly while at work, and exercising burns off some of that energy. ‘N I want to be ready to go back instantly.” He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “Oh, let me know if you want me to show you how to work out at home, or some stretches or anything. You sit still a lot, ’s not good for you.”

You try to wave him off with an awkward laugh. “I know. But I’m not interested right now.”

You’re admittedly surprised when Eijiro backs down instantly.

“Well, let me know if you ever change your mind. I’ll let ya borrow any equipment you need!”

A couple of days later, Eijiro asks to sit down with you again.

“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“Did it hurt?” The words are out before you can stop them.

Thankfully, Eijiro just laughs. “Lil’ bit, yeah. I prefer to just cruise through life without having to think too much. But I can’t right now, so I need something to keep myself occupied while I’m looking for a job. And I was thinking: how about I take on more of the chores? Cleaning’s a good workout, right? And it’d give ya more free time.”

You just look at him for a moment. “Is that really fair? We pay the same amount of rent, so shouldn’t chores be split evenly too?”

He shrugs. “You talked about wanting to help me the other day. I like being helpful too, y’know. So I thought about maybe getting a wireless headset so I can talk with my friends while I clean. Might make the noise easier on you too, knowing that I’m not just sitting on my ass while talking.” He stops for a moment, then adds, “Was thinking about doing the grocery runs too. Y’know how they’ve been saying that thing about only having one person per household shopping? Might as well be me.” He scoffs. “Got nothing but free time.”

You’re speechless. What he’s saying makes sense, yes. But it still feels wrong to let him do most of your chores just because he’s bored.

It’s like he can sense your unease.

“We could also take turns on groceries,” he offers. “Then you can get all the intimate stuff ya need without needing to involve me.”

You can’t help but grin at him. “What, too much of a chicken to buy me tampons?”

Eijiro grins back. “Nah, ‘s not that, I don’t mind. I’ve done it before. It’s just that there are so many kinds I’d need pictures to make sure I got the right thing. Might be less of a hassle if you got it yourself. But! If you’re ever in a pinch I got your back!”

You look down at your lunch for a moment, thinking over what he just said.

“If we’re combining groceries, it might be easier if we coordinate our meals. I’m already cooking for myself, I don’t mind cooking for…” -you eye him for a moment- “for two more people. It’s not that much of a difference.”

“Two people!” he sputters. “That’s… … actually probably accurate. I do eat a lot. I like the idea, but…” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I was actually thinking we could take turns cooking.”

You can’t stop yourself from making a face this time. Eijiro just laughs.

“Yeah, I know. I’m terrible. But I was thinking that this is the time to get better. I don’t mind eating what I cook, but I wouldn’t serve it to someone else. So cooking for you as well would force me to pay more attention.”

You sit back in your seat, crossing your arms. “You want me to be your guinea pig.”

“No, I want ya to hold me accountable!”

When you just glare at him, Eijiro holds up his hands. “I’ve got a plan. One of my friends, Katsuki, he’s really good at cooking. Like really, really good. He’s been laid off as well, and he just started a Youtube channel where he shares cooking tips. He’s suggested helping me and Denks cook some meals, so he can figure out what some common mistakes might be. And we can get better at cooking at the same time.”

You stay silent, thinking. It makes Eijiro fret.

“So? Whaddaya think?” he eventually asks.

You sigh, feeling your resolve crumble. It’s too difficult to say no to his puppy-eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’ll at least give your food a try.”

Eijiro rewards you with a beaming smile. It makes your cheeks burn.

It only takes a few days before Eijiro decides to try his cooking experiments on you. He spends the afternoon getting barked at by whom you can only assume is Katsuki - with you listening in on every word. It’s Eijiro’s own fault for having his phone on speaker, you try to reassure yourself. And Katsuki’s tinny voice is piercing.

“Show me what you’re doing, Shitty Hair! … No, you need to cut them smaller, they’ll cook too slow as they are!”

‘Shitty hair’? you think. Do his friends really speak to him like that?

Eijiro just groans, ignoring the insult. “I don’t think I can, Kats, I don’t want the knife to slip.”

“Then sharpen your fucking knife! It’s meant to cut easily, if you’re fighting to cut small pieces then it’s too fucking dull!”

You roll your eyes. As charming as Gordon Ramsey.

“Are you keeping an eye on the meat?” Katsuki asks, his voice smug. “It’s gonna burn if you don’t…”

“SHIT!!”

The food turns out a lot more palatable than you’d imagined. It’s a little bland, a little overcooked, but you really wouldn’t mind eating it again.

And you’re surprised at just how fast Eijiro improves. Over the next few months you grow more and more thankful that he suggested taking turns cooking. It’s a weight off your shoulders, even if you still feel a bit weird that he does most of the cleaning and grocery shopping. But the extra free time and knowing that he’s being productive during his loud voice calls do make things easier on you. In the end you suggest to him that you take on a few more of the financial responsibilities -just a bill or two- to make things a little bit more even.

You look up from your screen when you hear the front door slam; Eijiro has arrived home with a load of groceries. Stretching, you get up from your chair. Helping him put away the groceries assuages your guilt just a little bit. And -if you’re being very honest with yourself- you’ve recently noticed finding every excuse to spend more time with him. Just five minutes here and there. Helping put away the groceries fits nicely into that too.

Leaving your room, you notice a bag of groceries leaning against the dining table. You turn to Eijiro -who’s already busy putting away groceries- and ask, “What about this one?”

Eijiro smiles at you, which makes your stomach flutter.

“Break time?” he asks. “I got you some ice cream at the store. Didn’t do great in the heat so you might wanna eat it soon.”

You thank him, finally moving from your doorway to actually help. Then you ask again, “What about the bag by the table? We’re not emptying that one?”

He shakes his head, grinning. “That one’s not for us. You know the elderly couple down the hallway?”

You nod silently, unwilling to admit that you don’t.

“I’ve been chatting with them a little bit. Distanced, of course! They’re not doing great so I thought I’d buy them some staples to help out. I’ll take the cost out of my own budget, don’t worry.”

You pause for a moment. It’s such a kind gesture to someone he barely knows. He really is a giant sweetheart. Then you make an instant decision. “I’ll split the cost with you, I wanna help too!”

You’re graced with a brilliant smile, like the sun rising over the horizon.

“Really?? Thanks! I’ll let them know it’s from both of us!”

You’re numbed, ears ringing as Eijiro talks about taking a quick shower before heading over to your neighbors. Then you’re left alone in the kitchen.

Sliding onto the floor, you lean your forehead against your drawn-up knees. You’re in deep. Maybe too deep. Ever since his breakdown and the following hug, your feelings have only been growing. And now you don’t know how to make it stop. You aren’t entirely sure you want to, either. But… It’s a bad idea, isn’t it? You’re worried that telling him will only lead to hurt and heartbreak. And yet, you’re not sure how long you can keep your feelings contained.

You decide that you need an in-depth vent session with your own friend group.

The vent session only helps solidify that you definitely have feelings for your roommate. But you still have no idea whether to act on those feelings or not. And Eijiro only makes things harder by being himself - sweet, kind, and maybe a little bit too touchy.

He comes up behind you one night as you’re cooking, loudly sniffing the air.

“Something smells amazing!”

He leans in over you, hands resting on either side of the stove, his chin on your shoulder, just watching as you cook. It’s almost too easy to melt against his chest.

You pull away instead, turning to face him as you try to laugh. It comes out strangled.

“It’s not ready yet, you have to wait!”

Eijiro pouts at you. But he thankfully moves away, instead opting to set the table. You sigh, equal parts in relief and disappointment. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep going without spilling the secret.

You’re doing the dishes together after dinner. It’s become a routine to do them as a team - they get done quicker that way. Eijiro refuses to let you do them alone, even back when your shared cooking routine began. Your idea of ‘you cook, I clean’ fell on deaf ears. And now you appreciate the extra time with him.

And you decide to let him know as much.

“Y’know, I’m actually kind of happy that we got this chance to get to know each other,” you say, nudging him with your hip. “If we hadn’t been stuck at home, I don’t know if we’d ever have taken the time to actually talk.”

You’re rewarded with a brilliant smile.

“Me too!”

You keep chatting while Eijiro washes the dishes, handing you clean ones to dry. The conversation jumps from the two of you, to your apartment and how thankful you are that Eijiro took on more of the chores, to the lives you led before the pandemic. And eventually to your individual friend groups.

“There’s Katsuki - you know him already,” Eijiro says. “And Denki and Hanta and Kyoka. We all met in high school. But Mina and me, we go back to middle school.”

“Mina,” you mumble. There she was again.

He pauses, looking at you questioningly.

“Did…” You hesitate, then you decide to just ask what’s on your mind. “She’s clearly very special to you. Did you ever date?”

Eijiro looks down at the soapy water, a fond smile on his face. “We did, back in high school. Only for a few months, though, then we decided that we were better off as friends. I guess we both felt pressured to give it a try.” Turning back to you, he finds your gaze again. “She’s my oldest friend. She’s my rock, not afraid to tell me if I’m being an idiot. N’ I do the same for her! But that’s as far as it goes. We didn’t work out back then, and we sure as hell wouldn’t work out now.”

You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. It doesn’t sound like he regretted breaking up with Mina at all. And the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flutter.

Eijiro breaks eye contact for a moment to empty the dish tub and dry his hands. Then he turns to you again, leaning against the counter.

“If you’re not busy tonight, do you maybe want to watch a movie or something?”

It’s your turn to beam. “Yeah, absolutely!!”

Maybe saying yes to a movie was a bad idea. You had trouble sleeping last night, work was particularly draining today, and now you find yourself struggling to keep your eyes open. As much as you want to pay attention to the movie Eijiro picked, your mind is steadily turning into soup. You blink hard, trying to force your eyes to stay open. It doesn’t work. They slowly close, and you sag sideways.

You have no idea how much time has passed. All you know is that you are comfortable and warm. You can still hear the movie playing. Or maybe it’s a new movie. You can’t bring yourself to truly care.

Eijiro shifts in his seat. It makes you realize that you’re leaning against him, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. Your eyes snap open. Then you decide to close them again. If he doesn’t mind -which you assume he doesn’t, since he hasn’t pushed you away- then you won’t mind either. It’s too comfortable, anyway.

The two of you stay like this for a while. It’s cozy. Then a frown forms on your face. Something is tickling your waist. It’s most likely a hair stuck to the inside of your shirt. You try to ignore it, but it only gets more irritating, brushing over your skin every time you breathe.

You snap, pushing Eijiro’s arm out of the way to get at the itch.

Eijiro flinches away from you. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to-- You were leaning on me pretty hard and I thought this would be more comfortable! I-I didn’t--”

“It’s fine,” you say, as you sink back against him. “I don’t mind, it’s cozy. Just had an itch right where your arm was.”

“O-oh.” He hesitates for a moment, then he puts his arm back around you, gently hugging you to his side. “It’s… Yeah, it’s pretty cozy.”

You close your eyes again, not fully registering how flustered he sounds. Or how happy…

Eijiro sits as still as he can, despite the credits rolling over the screen. You’re still nestled up against his shoulder, your forehead pressed against his neck, your breathing soft and even. He’s certain you’re asleep again. And he cannot bring himself to move a muscle, worried he’ll break the spell.

Slowly lifting his free hand, he scrubs at his face. “I’m really in it now, aren’t I?” he mumbles to himself. Falling in love with his roommate. Isn’t that one of the things people are always advised against?

“Fuck, Kats’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

You stir in your sleep, sighing softly. It only makes him wrap his arm tighter around you. Katsuki will have to be a problem for another day; right now Eijiro doesn’t want to think about anything but the sensation of you pressed against his side.

“Need your advice on something, Kats.”

The blonde makes a non-commital sound on the other end of the line. Eijiro swallows thickly, suddenly happy that it’s only the two of them on the voice call. And that you aren’t home to accidentally overhear anything.

He hesitates too long.

“What fucking is it?” Katsuki barks.

Eijiro sighs, steeling himself for the barrage he’s sure is about to come. “I think I’m falling in love with my roomie.”

When the barrage doesn’t come, he wonders briefly if the connection has been cut.

Then Katsuki groans. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. Really, Shitty Hair? Your fuckin’ roommate?”

“Hey, she’s a sweetheart, I--”

“NOT what I meant! I’m sure she’s amazin’ if she can tolerate your ass. But what the fuck are you planning to do? Tell her?”

Eijiro can feel himself blush. “I.. I mean, yeah, I’d like to. That’s what I wanted advice on.”

Katsuki practically growls. “Well, my advice is DON’T! We’re in the middle of a fuckin’ pandemic, if she says no, you won’t be able to easily move out.” He grumbles for a moment. “Of all your shitty, hare-brained ideas… But knowin’ you, you’ll never be able to let it go unless you find out, right?”

Eijiro chuckles, scratching at his cheek. “Ya know me too well, Kats.”

“‘Too well’ is right.” Katsuki is silent for a moment, then he groans again. “Alright, fuckin’ fine. Advice. Try to figure out if she feels the same b’fore you tell her anythin’. If she rebuffs you at all, then fuckin’ leave it alone, ya got that??”

Eijiro’s face splits into a wide smile. “Got it!! And if she says no, I can move in with you, right?”

“Like fuck you can’t!!”

Meat and onions sizzle in the pan. You give it a stir, peeking at Eijiro out of the corner of your eyes. He’s currently chopping vegetables, broad shoulders barely moving as he uses the knife. You have to admit that he’s gotten a lot better in the past few months, to the point where you’re looking forward to every meal he makes.

He’s gotten a lot more forward with you too. He’s become touchy-feely and quick to give compliments. And you don’t mind it one bit. You just hope it will continue once the pandemic ends.

You really ought to tell him how you feel. But… You can’t help but worry about whether he feels the same. Sighing softly, you push the thought away for now.

Eijiro turns to you with the cutting board, ready to add the veggies to the pan.

“By the way,” he says, “I got a surprise for dinner.”

You tilt your head, unable to stop your coquettish grin. “Oh? Should I be worried?”

Eijiro’s features soften as he looks at you. “Nah, probably not. Unless you don’t drink wine.”

“I do!”

You slowly swirl the wine in your glass. It’s the last of the two bottles Eijiro bought, so you want to savor it.

Across the table, Eijiro watches your movements with rapt attention. You can almost feel the intensity of his gaze. Or maybe it’s the wine.

He draws in a deep breath, almost like he forgot how to breathe for a moment. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

It takes a little too long for his words to make their way through your drunk brain.

“What did you just say?” you exhale. Your face feels like it's on fire.

Eijiro blinks. Then he sits up straight, shaking his head. “Fuck, I-- I shouldn’t have-- It’s just… I dunno how much longer I can stand not saying anythin’.”

You swallow hard, trying your best not to melt against the table. “What are you trying to say?”

He looks at you again, features softening. “That I’m in love with you.” Looking away, he scratches at the back of his neck. “I-I don’t even know if… if you return my feelings, but--”

You down the rest of your wine, trying to gain some liquid courage which you honestly don’t need at the moment. Then you get up, moving around the table.

He peers at you, smile evaporating. “What are you…”

“I do!” you finally answer him, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning in, face level with his.

Eijiro blinks hard. “What…”

“I do return your feelings. You’re pretty fucking cute yourself.”

He just looks at you for a moment, letting your words sink in. Then his face splits into a brilliant smile. You should’ve worn sunglasses.

Raising a hand, he gently cups your cheek, his smile widening when you lean into his touch. His thumb rubs over your skin, slowly moving downwards until it brushes over your bottom lip.

“Can I?” he asks.

You don’t answer. Instead, you lean in to kiss him first. His lips are warm, tasting like wine. Eijiro interrupts the kiss briefly to push his chair back, getting to his feet.

Pulling you close, his hand finds its place on your cheek once more. “You’ve no idea how fuckin’ long I’ve wanted to do this,” he mumbles against your lips. Then he kisses you again.

You sit sideways on the couch, feet propped up against Eijiro’s thigh. He’s gaming with his friends again; you can feel the muscles in his thigh tense as he leans into the curve of the race track on the screen.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon… YES!!!”

He jumps to his feet, whooping as he wins. You eye him over the top of your magazine, pouting at him.

Grinning at you, he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, babe, didn’t mean to get that loud!”

You hear someone loudly exclaiming something through Eijiro’s headset.

He chuckles. “Yeah, my girlfriend got mad.”

The voice call erupts into shouts. You can’t help but giggle when you hear Denki screaming ‘what??’ over and over again, with whom you assume is Mina cheering loudly in the background.

Eijiro just laughs. “Didn’t I tell you? Me and my roomie started dating!”

He talks for a moment longer, then bows out of the game with his victory, deciding that he’d rather spend the rest of the day with you.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #wips for gaza #fics for gaza #fluff #romance #fem!reader #kirishima #eijiro #eijirou #x reader #x you #imagine #imagines

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bless-my-demons · 2 years ago

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Oh god the FLUFF

Notes: I did this one a little different, I tried sort of a true dual POV and it’s got me fucked up y’all-goddamn. Don’t ask me where the fuck this came from because I have no thoughts, head fucking empty. I just - I can’t, just read it.

Word Count: 1287

Series Masterlist

• March 28th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

I give up.

Striding from my locker, I interrupt Jasper and his conversation with Alice, pushing him towards the familiar small alcove below the stairs.

I breathe heavily, working up the nerve to ask him what’s been on my mind for an ungodly amount of time. Fuck me, I just miss him so damn much.

“Can I kiss you?” I’m weak, weak for needing him so badly after such a short amount of time, I can’t even look anywhere else than the middle of his chest as I make my request.

He surges forward after a heavy beat of silence once I finish my question, he cages me against the wall, “Be mine.”

His words snatch the oxygen from my body, I glance up to his eyes, “What?”

“Come over this weekend,” his gaze is intense - staring into my very soul, “Let me apologize for the last six months. Give me a shot, darlin’.”

“Okay-” I don’t even finish my answer before he moves to grant my wish.

Oh god.

His lips lay themselves upon mine and I swear time stops. It’s a cliche, but everything else in my life no longer exists aside from his lips on mine. Cold and firm, but gentle and steady. A perfect match, non-dominating or in a hurry, but taking his time. As if he were memorizing the pressure, the taste, the way my own lips moved against his.

As if he were coaxing my soul out into the open, to bask in the warm sun that is his love.

Our mouths slotted perfectly together, familiar, the way my body clicked with his. My arms wind themselves around his neck and he kisses me deeper, more - I need more. Two magnets drawn together, two pieces of torn cloth restitched to be whole again, two halves meant to find their place in each other. I move, tilting my head and he responds in kind, an equal in every way despite our differing mortality.

I almost didn’t get this. This-this summation of feelings and butterflies an-and everything between us that’s built up. The lead weight in my stomach from this realization threatens to yank me from the cloud nine his kiss firmly perched me on.

Tears, fat and heavy roll down my cheeks as I grip his shirt desperately and he pulls away just far enough to inspect my face.

“Why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“I never… I never thought I’d get the chance…” My eyes remain closed, unable to meet his gaze.

“To what?” I can hear the crinkle in his brow just from his voice.

“To kiss you again.”

I hear his sharp intake of breath and I know my words cut deep.

I open my eyes, “You left me and it’s all I’ve ever thought about. I-I-”

“Darlin’,” his turn for his eyes to flutter closed, “I’ve regretted every day since that night. I regret my lapse in control, I regret not having a better grip on myself, to handle these urges.”

“Can you?” My lips ghost over his as I whisper my question, the addiction having taken root. “Can you handle it now?”

A shuddering breath exits his mouth and his eyes snap open, a rare display of my effect on the vampire. “No.”

The answer zaps through me, but he stops me before I could pull away. “No? Jasper-“

“You-I-“ a growl pushes to the surface, giving away his flustered state. “I can’t fucking think for god’s sake.”

Jasper

Fuck me, her mouth is pure sin.

I could lose myself in those lips and never care about resurfacing ever again. Everything she does, from how she tilts her chin to welcome me further, to how her body yields to mine and forms against me, it’s heaven. The burning in my throat is secondary to the pure bliss her kiss envelopes me with.

Not to mention her fucking emotions.

Need, happiness, hunger, relief, contentment. They just keep coming, one after the other and I swear it inflates my chest with a happiness of my own, like a thousand butterflies trapped inside the cage of my ribs.

Love.

It feels like two ribbons entwining, dancing in sync, twisting in ways that create a beautiful tangled mess not soon to be unwound.

Love?

This one is different, I’ve felt love before - it’s shines from Esme’s face on a daily basis, it seeps from the smile lines around Carlisle’s mouth, and it passes through me with every one of Emmett’s hugs. But this? This love? This love is flowing straight from her heart into mine, breathing life into something long cold and dead. This love is meant only for me, only to be shared between mates, this kind of love is meant to be secreted away and only examined in moments of vulnerability between two like souls.

I love her and she loves me.

The thought rocks me to my core and I cup the back of her head as she leans back a little, allowing me to deepen the kiss.

A wetness begins to trickle down her cheeks and it startles me from the trance of her delicious mouth, tears?

I pull back far enough to catch the tear tracks from her tightly closed lids, “Why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“I never… I never thought I’d get the chance…” She trails off, still hiding those gorgeous eyes from me.

“To what?” I furrow my brow, not quite following.

“To kiss you again.”

I inhale quickly to try and soften the blow her words deal straight to my chest. She’s yearned for this moment for months, just like I have.

She finally opens her eyes, “You left me and it’s all I’ve ever thought about. I-I-”

“Darlin’,” it’s my turn for my eyes to flutter closed, “I’ve regretted every day since that night. I regret my lapse in control, I regret not having a better grip on myself, to handle these urges.”

“Can you?” Her lips ghost over my own as she whispers her question, stealing the very thoughts from my brain. “Can you handle it now?”

I exhale a shuddering breath before my eyes snap open, “No.”

“No? Jasper-“

“You-I-“ a growl erupts before I could stop it, frustration at my own thoughts bubbling up. “I can’t fucking think for god’s sake.”

Will this girl ever learn that she controls me? That I bend to her? She has me wrapped securely around her delicate little pinky and she has no idea.

“I need to hunt before this weekend, but I will pick you up Saturday morning at your house.” I promise her, my nose gently rubbing against hers in a soothing motion.

“Okay.” Her breathless reply damn-near brings me to my knees.

“Darlin’?” I question her, slightly amused.

“Hmm?” Her eyes are closed, her emotions are just emanating absolute bliss.

“We still have half a school day to get through.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, her or myself.

“I’m not sure you can convince me to go.” Fuck.

“Darlin’, you gotta help me out here.” I scratch the base of her skull lightly to get her attention and it was definitely the wrong thing to do, her grip tightens on my shirt and her bliss burns a little heavier, almost suffocating me.

“Now why would I do that when I could just kiss you again?” Her eyes crack open, but I’m already in motion.

How could I argue with logic like that? My lips are on hers again before that beautiful pink mouth could part even a fraction.

Love, oh I could get used to this.

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #bless-my-demons #twilight #jasper hale #female reader insert

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