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asumofwords · 5 months

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Midpoint - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: The semester break came along quicker than you thought it would, and you decided to stay on campus for the break to get ahead in your studies. What will happen when you go head-to-head with a certain ill-tempered maths student in a war of pettiness?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Arguing, pettiness, name calling, low blows, tension, degradation, ripped stockings, finger fucking, rough fucking, fucking in public, p in v, creampie, cum eating.

Word Count: 8.7k

Notes: Hello my angels, Happy New Year, heres to all the filth that will continue to come from the cesspool that is my mind. Thank you all for your patience, I have been so excited to write for Michael, and so I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it !! heheh ;) <3

Part 2

There was a soft amber glow that cast over the library, the dark wood warming with the golden light that peaked through the windows, patches of wooden floors illuminated in some spots with coloured lights from stained glass windows.

For the most part, the library was empty bar three other students who had stayed behind for the break, getting ahead on their work for the next semester.

You were one of them, and with the sheer size of the library, you wouldn’t have known there were others inside if you had not seen them when walking down the endless isles of books in search for the ‘British Working Class Movements’ for your history course.

It didn’t take long for you to find it, and by the time you settled into a secluded corner down the back, the sun had already begun to set. You flicked on one of the green and gold table lamps and began to read, periodically taking notes on a page as you went.

It wasn’t that you needed to study ahead, it simply gave you something to do whilst the break droned on, few students having stayed behind making it lonely, but a bit more bearable than making the long trip home.

You loved the library, the stained wood, smell of old books lining the walls, and the quiet of the place was a nice haven to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of college. Everyone always seemed to be in a rush to either their next class or their next party, and although you weren’t a loner per se, you didn’t always feel like being in the constant lights and sounds that came with socialising. And so the library was the one place, besides your dorm, where you could have a nice piece of solitude.

Settling over the page, you gained a steady rhythm. Read about one movement, then write anecdotes as you went, taking the time to pause, re-read, and really absorb the information as much as you could. It was fascinating, and you enjoyed learning as much as you did.

By the third hour of continuous reading and note taking, your hand began to cramp, and so you decided it was time for a short break. You stood up from the desk, stretching your arms above your head, a small sigh escaping your lips as your back cracked and muscles pulled. You twisted your upper body to each side, softly grunting as you felt your back click again and again, sighing loudly as a particular pop took away an ache that had settled between your shoulders. You continued on with your languid stretches, trying to get some of the stiffness out of your body from being hunched over the desk for so long.

You wondered how much more time you should spend writing notes, or whether you could go back to your dorm and laze about on the bed. Luckily for you, you didn’t have a roommate, and were able to make the space feel much like your own. You didn’t have too much furniture, the room not allowing for it, just your essentials and a few trinkets here and there that you had collected. Your real pride and joy however, was a Peace Lily that you had saved from sure death. Now, it sat proudly on your study desk, growing dark green leaves and flowering its soft white flowers.

The idea of going back to your dorm seemed tempting, after all, you didn’t really have to be studying, and you had just recently bought the new Harry Potter book and wished to read some more of it, make a nice cup of tea, sink into your sheets and get lost into a fantasy world.

A soft jangling came from between one of the large book shelves, and soon a man peeked through. His icy blue eyes caught yours and you watched as he assessed you from where he stood, albeit awkwardly, gaze dragging up and down your body.

He was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that sat messily atop his head. He had a sharp aquiline nose, and lips that pulled up naturally in its corners.

You recognised him from somewhere, but where you couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he was in the same classes as you?

He continued to stare at you, shirt tucked into his pants, small carabiner attached with a USB dangling from a belt loop, his tongue pushed into his cheek.

“You right?” You asked, shifting on your feet, wondering if he needed something from you.

His lips pursed as he looked at you from down his nose, “Are you?”

You furrowed your brows, “Huh?”

“You've been moaning in the back of the library like a tart.”

You bristled, “I beg your pardon?”

Who the fuck-

“Some of us are trying to study.” His arms were stiff by his sides, and before you had the chance to reply, he spun on his heel, shoes squeaking loudly in the aisles as he marched away.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, feeling angry and also slightly embarrassed about the encounter.

Had you been making a lot of noise?

You didn’t think so, especially since the library was essentially empty anyway. You had even chosen the furthest corner of the floor as well, tucked away behind rows of books and out of sight.

You sat back down at the desk and tried to continue writing notes, but instead, you found yourself feeling far too self conscious, and wondered if you were even breathing too loudly. But before you got too self critical, you remembered that the library was practically empty, and you had specifically chosen a spot the furthest away from the other three students.

If your stretching and little sighs had disturbed him, he was either hanging around your area, or had the hearing of a bat.

So after about an hours more of study attempts and a half a page more of notes, you decided to call it a night, packing away your belongings before taking the book with you, not bothering to check it out.

As soon as you got back to your dorm, you headed straight to bed, not feeling in the mood to make a cup of tea or even open your new book, no longer looking forward to enjoying yourself and settling in. Instead you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, stewing about how the man in the library had spoken to you, and vowing that if you saw him again, you'd give him a piece of your mind.

And by your luck, you did see him again.

The very next day.

You got to the library around midday, deciding that you weren’t going to do a late night of studying, deciding to have a relaxing night in to pamper yourself, maybe even watch a movie in the common rooms if the tv free, or do as you had intended the night before; a cup of tea and your book, and maybe even some ‘me’ time.

The library, despite all its windows and the suns rays peeping through, was cold, and as soon as you stepped foot into it a chill ran over you. You walked through the endless rows of books, not seeing a soul as you climbed the stairs to the second floor, dust settled into the crooks and corners of the staircases and bannisters, the smell almost overwhelming, until finally, you saw him.

He was sat in the centre of the room at one of the large study desks, multiple books opened around him as he furiously wrote down notes and equations. His head didn’t lift at the sound of your footsteps, too busy in his own little world studying for God knows what, so much so, that it was a wonder that you had even managed to disturb him the day prior, which now only seemed to fuel your anger.

You were never one to back down.

You walked straight to him, toes almost kicking the leg of the table as you looked down at his neat writing, his hand flying across the page in rapid succession, no calculator in sight despite the lengthiness of the equations.

It was impressive, you noted begrudgingly, the way he worked so swiftly, and just was you were about to gain his attention, he spoke to you, hand not once slowing as he worked.

“What do you want?”

It wasn’t rude, just as it wasn’t polite. If anything, it was abrasive, like the rough cobblestones outside, and not once did he look up at you.

It caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened and shut as you tried to think of something to say.

Was it really worth being hot headed and saying something the day after?

Would he even remember?

Or would you be embarrassing yourself further?

Ultimately you gave up, deciding that there was no point to saying anything anymore, sighing in resignation as you walked around the length of the table continuing to yours.

You got about three steps away before he spoke again.

“Remember that you’re in the library this time.”

You spun, staring daggers into the back of his head, hand gripping the strap of your bag, “What the fuck is your problem?” Your chest heaved in anger, waiting for him to turn around or answer you, but he didn’t.

The sandy haired man continued his endless equations, leaving you standing behind him as though you had spoken to a ghost. It was maddening, the rush of your blood loud in your ears drowning out the steady scratch of his pencil.

How dare he?

He was just like all the others, like every other man on campus who felt they could speak however they like at any woman as though you were beneath them.

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but was mere seconds.

Realising that you weren’t to get an answer from him, you continued on your way to your secluded little table, stomping through the aisles, your footsteps echoing loudly in the space on the wooden floor.

When you got to the table, you all but threw your bag down, the heavy textbook slamming onto the wooden surface, making a large bang.

Never in your life had you been so agitated, ripping the chair away from the desk, letting the legs scrape on the mahogany floor.

One after the other, you yanked your books out of your bag, your notebook and pens, throwing them onto the table without a care. You could feel the heat of your anger creeping up your neck and into your face, and despite your attempts to calm yourself by studying, you ended up just re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not once absorbing it.

By the time you decided to give up, the sun had begun to set, and so you hastily scrambled to shove your things back into your bag, not even bothering to tuck your chair in softly, throwing it against the desk and storming out the way you came.

He was still in his regular spot when you stalked past him, his head turned down as he read through his notes, multiple empty chocolate wrappersw spread across the table.

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered as you walked past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you huffed and stormed away, hoping to find some peace in your dorm.

When you got to your dorm, you were so hungry that you began to feel sick. Realising that in your anger you had forgotten to eat, you wandered down to the pub not far from campus and got a cheap little meal, eating quietly in the corner, a telly playing a soccer game on the screen in the back.

There weren't many patrons that night, but you could hear the pool table being used in the distance, the loud clacking of the balls being sunk, drowning out the soft sound of the telly. The pub stunk of stale beer and cigarettes, ring stains on all the wooden surfaces from sweating glasses.

It was still early when you finished, and so you made the decision to check out the commons and see if a tv was free.

The night air was cold as you walked back to your dorm, your teeth chattering in your skull as you sped walked, wrapping your arms around yourself to get back into the warmth of the old building. Lights illuminated the old stone walls in a yellow light, casting shadows on the cobblestones and bare trees around you.

It would have been spooky if you weren’t used to it by now, and could understand how first years would become spooked at night alone, walking through the courtyards.

As you made your way towards the common room in your building, you couldn’t help but think about the man in the library. His sandy hair, blue eyes, sharp features and sharper mouth. Who needed a heater when you had this man to fire you up? You could almost hear his grating tone as he mocked you, his glasses shining in the library as he looked down his nose at you.

He made you feel small, unwanted. But you had worked hard to get into Oxford, and you, whether he liked it or not, had earned your place.

It wasn’t unlike the men you already knew in STEM to be somewhat assholes, especially towards women or any degrees they deemed ‘unfit’ or ‘unworthy’. You had heard many scoffs and sneers at the Arts students, or English Literature kids, especially if it was women, from the STEM boys who seemed to hoard together like a bunch of flies. Or better yet, like a Rat King, unable to break the connection between each other despite how much they fought it.

It was, to follow the pun, a rat race.

The hall was dark as you walked to the commons, but from the window of the door, you saw the tale tell sign of the telly being on. You wondered momentarily if it was anyone you knew that had stayed back, perhaps one of the girls.

Maybe you could settle down with them and watch whatever mind melting soap opera was on, and lull yourself into a stupor.

The prospect of talking to someone almost dissolved your sour mood, and by the time you opened the door, peering into the flickering light illuminated room, a small smile had begun to pull at your lips.

But that smile was short lived as your eyes met a pair of pale blue ones.

You watched as his lips pulled down in recognition of you, his head turning to look back at the telly. Your heart began to race in your chest again, the door clicking shut behind you, the soft sound of Doctor Who’s theme song filling the room, the screen reflecting off of his rectangular lenses.

It didn’t help that the small drinks you had at the pub seemed to ignite your previous disdain for the man, as well as dampening your, for a lack of a better word, cognition.

In that moment, you were at a loss of what to do. You wanted to watch tv, but the idea of being anywhere near him infuriated you. Yet, at the same time, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by leaving, indicating to him that you had given up, and that he had won.

“You going to stand there all night?” He teased cruelly, eyes not once turning back to you, locked on David Tenant as he ran through an abandoned warehouse.

You bristled, teeth grinding down against each other as you stormed past him, “Fuck you.” You dropped down onto the cushion on the other end of the couch.

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips purse slightly, obviously hearing you.

No matter how much you tried, you could not get comfortable on the couch, and it wasn’t because the couch had a natural groove from the many people who sat in it, or the obvious stains on the covers and arms, some recognisable, others dubious, nor the permeating cigarette smell that emanated from deep within the foam, but rather because he sat all too comfortable beside you, watching a show you wished you could watch alone.

You shifted against the arm again for the umpteenth, huffing softly in the room. Your ass had fallen asleep because you sat ramrod straight and refused to relax, tucking your legs beneath you not leaning back. No matter what you did, you could not settle, body gearing up for a fight.

When you shifted again, it seemed to pull his attention away from David Tenants doctor.

“You gonna keep huffing in the corner like a baby?”

Your already fragile thread of patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem? Have I done something to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him. The man sneered, leaning towards you on the couch, “My problem is vapid little cunts like you. Getting by on mummy and daddy’s money whilst the rest of us have to work to stay here. You just party and fuck each other like rats.” His cold eyes razed up and down your body, watching as your face morphed from anger to offence, and then, to rage.

You shot up from your seat, moving to stand over him as he looked up at you, face barely containing his hatred.

“I don’t have ‘mummy’s and daddy’s money’, I’m here because I worked hard to be here.” You hissed, hands clenched into fists at your sides, “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you’re friends with Felix Catton and every other vapid, useless cunt that hangs off of his every breath.” His voice lowered, hatred simmering behind his light illuminated glasses.

Your brows furrowed, “Felix and I have a class together. Assigned seating. We walk there together. If-” You straightened, looking down at him before it hit you.

A laugh of disbelief flew from your lips, and soon enough the cocksure anger melted away from his sharp features, replaced by confusion.

“Wow.” You huffed, a bitter laugh filling the air, “You’re jealous.” His eyes narrowed on you, “You’re jealous of Felix.” You watched as his mouth snapped open, “Maybe if you weren’t so-“

“-I’m not fucking jealous of those nobodies.”

Snorting, you shook your head, “Nobodies… Yet people know their name. I don’t even know who you are.”

You waited for him to give you his name, to finally tell you who this infuriating man was, the credits of Doctor Who playing in the background as you stared at each other. Your chest heaved, but all you felt looking down at him was irritation.

“Your anger is misdirected." You growled, "I thought you would be smarter than that.”

The man's jaw ticked, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I don’t.”

You turned away, suddenly drained from the whole interaction. You didn’t bother to turn back and look at him, or even say another word. You wanted to go to bed, no, needed to go to bed and get away from the man on the couch before you tore your hair out.

As you opened the common room door, his voice called out to you.

“Y/n L/n.”

The way he said your name sent goosebumps rising on your skin, each syllable pronounced slowly, as though he was savouring your name on the tip of his tongue. Your hand paused on the door as you pushed it open, looking back at him.

“And who are you?”

Before he could answer, you left, slamming the door shut behind you. You marched straight back to your room, hands in such tight fists that your nails left half crescent moons in the flesh of your palms.

You lay awake most of the evening staring at the ceiling with the interaction on your mind.

He knew you by name, even thought you were friends with Felix, and whilst you weren’t not friendly with him, you wouldn’t say you were closely acquainted. You drank at the same parties sometimes or saw him down at the pub, but the only one-on-one time you had with him was in class.

Whoever this man was, and whoever he thought you were, he was wrong. And now he was going to regret it.

You knew he would be there, in fact you betted on it, getting up extra early to go to the library to do the one thing you planned on doing that day.

Piss him off.

If there was one thing that men hate the most in the world, it was not being in control, and that was doubled if it was with a woman.

You sat at the table he always did, spreading your textbooks and papers, pens, notes, snacks, water bottle, and even IPod Nano on its surface. You had brought extra things with you today in your bag to spread across the table, some things not even needed to study, but used to take up more space and soil his little territory.

The sun had barely even risen by the time you laid it all out, but you knew it would all be worth it.

And it was, because not even fifteen minutes later, he arrived to the sight of you at his desk, humming as you looked at your notes.

His feet stopped not too far from your (his) table, watching as you met his gaze, devoid of emotion. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling, watching as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

He was almost shaking with anger.

Got you.

You kept the image of innocence, looking back down at your notes as you tapped your pen against the tables surface loudly. You could see his fists clenching in your periphery at his side, his pale green button up shirt with long beige pants shifting side to side as he stood angrily watching you.

“What are you doing?” The blonde’s voice cut through the quiet of the library, irritation evident in his tone.

You didn’t bother to look up, pen still clicking rhythmically against the table, “Hm?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Placing the pen on your page delicately, you looked up, “Pardon?”

The mans cheeks flushed an angry red as he stared down at you, lips pulling into a tight line, “Whatever you think-“

“-I’m sorry,” You interrupted him, leaning forward to look up into his eyes sweetly, “Do I know you?”

The man leant forward and sneered, “Gavey.”

“Gavey?” You titled your head, biting your lip softly in thought.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Yes.” He grit through his teeth, looking down at your spread notes and gear.

Then it came to you.

“Gavey! Michael Gavey!” You beamed up at him, leaning slightly forward on the desk.

Now you knew why he was so familiar.

“You’re the maths genius.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Anyone who had heard about Michael Gavey knew about his stellar intellect when it came to maths, and unfortunately for him, they also knew about his little antisocial outbursts, “You yelled at Oliver on O week.”

You watched with delight as the anger fell momentarily from his face, and embarrassment replaced it. You leant further forward, putting both elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Is it true then? You can do any sum just in your head?”

If it was true, he needed to be studied by a team of scientists.

And maybe a behavioural therapist.

Michael stood taller, proud to have been recognised for this part of him as he watched you bat your eyelashes at him. His shoulders rolled back, eyes glimmering with determination behind his glasses.

Men were so easy.

You just stroke their ego a little and their guard comes down immediately.

“Ask me.” His voice was soft, confident, waiting on bated breath to show off his born skill.

You smiled, “Alright. Seven-hundred-and-eighty-nine multiplied by six-hundred-and-fifty-four.”

Without missing a beat, “Five-hundred-and-sixteen-thousand-and-six.”

“Divided by twelve.”

“Forty-three-thousand point five.”

“Times nine.”

“Three-hundred-and-eighty-seven-thousand-and-four point five.”

You leant back in your chair watching him. It was impressive, and if he wasn’t such a prick, you would have openly praised him. But you didn’t have it in you in that moment to give him anything but a lengthy stare, using the time to get a good look at his face without the sneer.

He was handsome, a long face framed nicely by his ‘devil may care’ hair. You wondered if he even bothered to brush it in the morning. The longer you looked at him the more you could see how his sharp features and soft lips would in fact get him the attention he so desperately craved, if only he wasn’t as insufferable as he was. In fact, the more you thought about it, if things had been different, perhaps you would have pursued him, maybe even asked him out for a drink.

Instead, he had made an enemy for himself, and being petty at this point was a hobby for you that you took great time and pleasure in doing, especially if it was for assholes who made the first move unwarranted.

“Hm.” You tapped your pen against the table, “How do I know it’s correct and you're not just making it up?”

This seemed to anger Gavey.

“I’m not making it up. I do the sums,” He narrowed his eyes, “In my head.”

“I don’t have a calculator to confirm this. For all I know, you could be lying.”

The anger was back, “I’m not lying. I’m never wrong.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Uh huh.”

Then came the vitriol, his shoulders tensed in rage, “What would you know anything about maths? You’re a History and Philosophy major.” Michael scoffed, seeming to think that his disdain for your degree would upset you in the slightest.

You sighed loudly, pulling the earphones from your Ipod to begin putting them in your ears. You looked at him pointedly, putting a sad little smile onto your lips.

Show time.

“It’s a shame, you know.” You said sadly.

“What?” Michael responded, over-eagerly.

The earphones sat in your ears and you scrolled down to a song you wanted, letting the music begin to play loudly just to piss him off, the noise turned up high enough for him to hear the lyrics. You didn't show it, but it was too loud, and most certainly hurt your ears, yet it was worth it to see his nose scrunch up.

“That you’re a snob.” Your voice rose over the music in your ears, unable to hear anything but the loud bass line that bounced in your head, “You’re actually cute when you’re not sneering at me.” You let your eyes drop back to your page, ignoring his presence as you strummed the pen loudly against the wood of the desk, unable to hear if he responded, but also not bothered to hear him. You had ended the conversation just the way you wanted.

And it would drive him nuts.

What you hadn’t seen was his mouth opening and shutting multiple times as a blush spread across his cheeks. He stood idly by, utterly unable to produce a single word or sound bar clearing his throat. Michael disappeared from your periphery as he left to sit at the table at the end, dropping into his seat to begin his studies.

But it proved to be fruitless, because as he attempted to settle into the endless stream of equations, all he could hear behind him was the tinny sound of your music blasting from your earphones and the steady grating tap of your pen.

He tried, in vein, for over an hour to focus, before giving up and storming out of the library. It was only then when you lifted your head, smiling at his retreating figure in triumph.

I win.

Not a word had been written on your page, and not a thing had been absorbed in your head. You lowered the volume of your music, a ringing settling into your ears, before packing up your things to go back to your dorm, deciding that a job well done was deserving of some respite, and in your good mood you would actually read your book.

You spent the rest of your day and better part of your evening reading, lounging, and snacking on some chips as you snuggled into your sheets.

Being the creature of habit that you were, you ended your triumphant day going to the pub to have another cheap meal and a drink or two, spending a considerable amount of the evening chatting up another student who had also stayed behind during the break.

He was cute, and funny, and although he hinted more than once that he would like to continue your evening back in either one of your dorms, you didn’t have the energy to entertain a potentially dull night of barely there pleasure.

He smiled too wide and had too much confidence to really know what he was doing, and you felt immediately that he would be the type to get his and leave you high and dry. So you parted, promising emptily to get another pint together soon enough, though you knew it wasn’t your stellar verbal company that he wanted.

Sinking into bed that evening was an easy and pleasurable experience. You crawled into your sheets, smile on your face and victory on your tongue. Your tit-for-tat was successful, and now you could finally just focus on your work, and not the sandy haired Michael Gavey who seemed to invade your every thought.

The sun trickled through the curtains by your bed, a warm stream of light hitting your face. You woke with a stretch, body slowly waking up with the day.

You didn’t have much planned after yesterdays success, and didn’t have a want to do much at all, but there was only so much lounging in bed one could do over the many weeks of break, so you decided to go back to the library, at least for an hour to make up for yesterdays losses (despite the personal win).

You looked around your room and settled on a skirt and some tights with a turtle neck sweater, unable to find anything else as a pile of dirty clothes had slowly accumulated in the corner. You made a note to yourself to take it to the laundromat later with some coins and your book.

The walk to the library was the same monotonous one as it always was. The same stone walls, the same dark wooden detailing and floor, the occasional beautiful stained glass window, and the ever strange silence of an empty college. There was a light layer of frost on the grass outside, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it would snow. The trees were bare except for a handful of orange and brown leaves, hanging on for dear life, or perhaps, holding on with dead fingers.

Rigor mortus of the petiole.

The steps creaked beneath your feet as you made your way up to your usual spot, the library cold as it always was, causing you to wish you had brought a warmer jacket with you. When you got to the landing, you expected to see him, sandy hair, glasses slipping down his sharp nose, hunched over the same textbook as he wrote out his equations with dizzying speed, but the tables were empty, and the aisles were barren, and all that was in the library was you.

Briefly you wondered for a moment if something has happened to him. Had he gotten sick? Too ill to crawl out of bed, laying in his sheets with a fever and no one to comfort him?

You frowned at the thought.

Why did you care?

His ego was likely too bruised to show his face, and was hidden in another alcove or other smaller library somewhere else, or perhaps even in his room.

Maybe he even had friends, and decided to spend the day with them, likely another student in STEM.

You could have sworn you saw him and Oliver Quick in the pub one night together.

You walked past his empty table and continued down the end to where your little nook was, grazing your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. Each ridge another spine, each spine another thousand upon thousand of words that had been read, dissected, and rewritten by many a student. You liked to think about how many hands had touched the pages, how many eyes had skimmed the words, how many bags, beds, tables, couches, cars or trains they had been in over the years, and how many times you had read them, or held them in the same spot.

You emerged from the isles to your nook.

It was not what you had expected that morning.

Certainly not what you had expected any morning come to think of it, but even so, your steps halted and your heart began to quicken, anger slowing creeping up your neck, heating your face.

He was sat at your table.

Your table.

His glasses had slid down almost to the tip of his nose, a long slender finger daintily pushing them back up to the bridge, lips pouted in their natural pout as his hand flew about his notes, writing equation after equation in a speed that would intimidate even Einstein. Michaels hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hand through it multiple times, as he contemplated the pros and cons of sitting there.

He must have landed on the pros.

“What are you doing.” You bit out, an irritating sense of dejavu seeping into your bones.

Michael didn’t look up at you, your feet almost pushing through the floor, anger rooting you in place.

“Hm?” Came his noncommittal reply.

It set you off.

“You’re in my seat.” You hissed, swiftly stepping towards him.

The light from the window beside him cast shadows across half his face as he looked up at you, he sucked his teeth loudly, “Your seat?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His head dipped back down to his notes, his blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as his hand continued to write, “This is a public library. It’s a public seat.”

You stormed forward dumping your bag atop his hand, his pencil scraping across his notes on the paper, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His jaw ticked, steely blue eyes flicking to where you dumped your heavy bag atop his notes and own text book.

“I’m sorry, I’m not tutoring on break.” His tone all too demeaning as he over pronounced each word.

Your hands slammed down onto the desk as you leant forward towards his face, “I don’t need a tutor and you know it, you miserable little cunt.” Anger boiled inside of you, building and building, ready to burst.

Michael bristled, “Who the f-“

“-Oh, fuck you, Michael. You’re a miserable piece of shit, thinking you’re above everybody else, sneering at anyone who dares to be happy. I’ve seen you, always sulking about in the shadows because no one can stand to be around you.”

The silence was almost deafening.

Oh God.

That was a low blow.

You had taken it too far.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very guilty, “Michael,” You started, “That was-“

A pale hand lifted in front of your face, the man standing almost near silently in front of you. He went from below you, to towering above in a split second, his sheer size double your own. He stared down his sharp nose at you with a look of contempt, the rage behind his eyes flickering with barely held restraint.

“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, lower than you had ever heard it go, emotion almost drained entirely from it except an icy edge which sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

You stayed silent, watching as he stepped away from the desk, chair scraping on the wood to come towards you slowly, your heart beating like a drum behind your ribs.

Though you could step back, his eyes kept you glued to where you were, head craned up to look at him as he came closer, the tension in his jaw growing with every passing second.

It was unnerving, and everything within told you to run, but something made you stay.

Call it guilt.

Or intrigue.

His hand dropped to his side, slow, calculated steps coming closer, each one as silent as the next as his cheek twitched whilst looking you over.

“I think,” He began, a foot away from you, voice low, “That you’re just desperate enough to accept the scraps that they give you, because you fear if you don’t,” Another step, taking him toe-to-toe with you, “That you’ll be a nobody like me.”

Your mouth became dry, lips slightly parted as a tinge of hurt spread through your chest.

You shook your head faintly, “I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

A brow lifted, “You called me a nobody.”

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong because it was hurtful? Or wrong because you have more in common with me than you do with them.”

You shook your head, “Why is it always about them?”

“It is always,” He sneered, “About them. I have watched you take what little you can get from them like a beggar. Talking to Felix in the hallways, doing his homework for him, smiling at him like a dolt.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you.” His shoe bumped against yours as he leant forward, “You’re nothing to them. How long was it before they even learnt your name?”

“Stop it.” You whispered, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Michaels head tilted, “Why? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not.”

The sandy haired man clicked his tongue at you, head tilting, “You and I both know that’s not the truth, is it? What did Farleigh call you again?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek, leaving a wet track in its path. Your lip wobbled as you tried to keep your composure.

You didn’t know how he knew.

You didn’t know how he could have known what Farleigh had said to you that night, drinking in the pub together.

You hadn’t even meant to join them, but their table grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed your own and soon enough they were buying you shots. It was never a regular thing, you were never quite in the circle, but not quite out of it either. More-so lingering in the nothingness of neither here nor there.

Michael looked at you pityingly, not in a way where he held empathy for you because of it, but in a way where he pitied you for being the way you were. It was demeaning. Cold.

Detached.

“Parvenu.” His lips pronounced each syllable slowly, darkly, and it made you ache.

Another tear fell as you took a sharp intake of breath, sniffling roughly.

Shame built inside of you.

It was humiliating to relive that moment, let alone with Michael. And now that you knew he had witnessed or heard it, you wondered who else may have been there to hear Farleigh’s degrading comment and snort of a laugh followed. The way he would raise his brows at you the rest of the night as if to say ‘See? You don’t belong here, and we can all see it’, ‘We let you here because we can’.

“I don’t understand-“

Michael interrupted you, "-You let them walk all over you, and for what? Parties and accolades?” The corners of his lips turned downwards, “They don’t even respect you. Do they know that you’ve stayed behind on break alone? Do you think they’ll think of you in their mansions? Do you think Felix would ever-“

“-You talk about them as if they’re irredeemable, but they’ve been far nicer to me than you have.” Another tear fell, and your stomach tied itself in knots.

The anger seemed to simmer in his eyes, “They don’t deserve you.”

Your brows pulled down in confusion, “What?”

“You let them use you, chasing after their fleeting affections. It’s pathetic.”

Anger began to simmer inside of you, “Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic?” You leaned up on your toes, “The fact that you have so clearly been watching me, and everything that I do, and not once have you tried to be my friend. Do you know what’s pathetic?” Your voice began to rise, heat inside of you rising with it, “Your anger and hatred of them clearly stems from jealously and embarrassment because they would never talk to-“

Your eyes widened in shock, his lips crashing against yours as he yanked you forward, hand at the back of your head pulling you in tightly. You were so in shock, you didn’t know what to do, standing stiffly in his arms as the other circled your waist and pulled you against him.

It only took a second for your brain to come to with what was happening, your eyes sliding shut as you kissed him back roughly, all teeth and vitriol as you bit the soft flesh of his lips roughly. He hissed, pulling you closer, your feet stumbling against his as he backed you towards the wall of books beside the desk.

Your spine hit the shelf roughly as he shoved you back, both of you panting before you grabbed his shirt angrily, yanking him back towards you. You were so furious, so almost feral that you needed this more than you would have thought.

There was something about him, something about him that made you want to pull your hair out and also sit on his face to silence him.

His kisses weren’t skilled, but they were filled with passion as his teeth clashed against yours, a fight for dominance ensuing as you let a hand slide up into his hair and pull. A grunt came from deep within his chest as you yanked at the roots cruelly, hoping it would hurt him. Heat built in your gut rapidly, the need for him growing stronger with each passing second.

The hand on your waist slid down further, pulling up your skirt as his fingers pressed against your clothed core. You gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting forward from the pressure. With the other hand disappearing from the back of your head, it met the other between your legs, hooking into the gusset of your tights before you heard a loud rip, cold air immediately hitting your core.

You gasped loudly, Michael taking advantage as he slid his tongue into your mouth, flicking it upwards against the back of your teeth. He tasted faintly like chocolate, and it was a taste that you didn’t mind at all. His fingers immediately sought out your centre, sliding impatiently between your folds to gather the wetness from your entrance.

His movements were sloppy, yet focused, drawing it up to your clit as he rubbed fierce circles into it that bordered on painful. You nipped his bottom lip harshly again, yanking his head back and away from you to look at his face as two long digits circled your entrance.

The pupils of his eyes were enlarged, almost swallowing the blue of his iris whole. His cheeks were flushed a dusty pink, and lips a deep red after your bites. The glasses upon his face were slightly skewed and lightly fogged, the hair atop his head sticking up in different directions from your rough handling. You didn’t even get to observe him for longer before he roughly shoved the two fingers inside.

“Fuck.” You hissed, back arching towards him, shoulders roughly pushing into the bookshelf.

A mean smirk pulled on his lips as he crooked his fingers against the front of your walls, quickly thrusting his hand in and out with dizzying speed. Your breath caught in your throat, brows pulled down as you looked at him, low whine falling from your lips.

“So wet already.” Michael teased, thumb lightly brushing your pearl, a spark of intense pleasure shooting up you.

You pulled his head back towards you, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of your arousal loud in the both of your ears. Michael pulled up one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, the cold metal of his carabiner pressing sharply into your inner thigh. Pleasure began to wind tightly in your gut, his long fingers reaching parts of you, your own couldn’t.

Panting against his mouth, your hand flew behind you to grip one of the wooden shelves, elbow bumping against the spines of the books.

His pace never once faltered, all those hours of quick equations all day boosting his hand strength and stamina. You were surprised that he even knew what he was doing, but the questions floated aimlessly in the back of your mind, not quite sticking.

Your nails dug into the wood of the shelf, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder as your head fell backwards against the shelf, your peak barreling towards you.

“S’close. Please.” You whined, rolling your hips into his hand.

A mean laugh broke your peace, his fingers pulling out of you sharply, preventing you from reaching your release. Your eyes flew open, brows furrowed in frustration as you looked at him, smug smirk on his lips as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the arousal soaked digits.

You moaned weakly looking at him as he did it, hips rolling towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you again. Michael lips pouted at you as he pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Touch me.” You breathed, pulling him towards you with your leg, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing against you sharply. You sighed, rubbing your centre against his pants, a wet patch no doubt beginning to stain the front of them.

“So desperate.” He cooed at you, your core clenching at his words as your eyes fluttered.

The hand that had been inside of you quickly made its way to the front of his pants, the other joining as he hastily undid his belt, not pulling it through the loops, followed by his button and zipper. Michael hastily reached into his pants and pulled out his hardened length, the tip pink and weeping, veins crawling up the sides.

You swallowed thickly as you looked down.

Oh shit.

Michael was very well endowed.

You didn’t know what shocked you more, the fact that he had such a sizeable cock, or how he thrust it up into you without warning. The stretch was bordering painful and you cried out loudly, Michaels hand slapping across your mouth to stifle the sound.

“Quiet.” He hissed, pushing in to the hilt, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. Your eyes screwed shut as you whined into his palm, your walls struggling to accommodate him as he slowly pulled out, each vein and ridge catching on your inner walls deliciously.

The slow heat inside of you began to build once more.

Michael thrust into you sharply, your head banging against the back of the shelves as he kept his hand against your mouth, the other holding your hip against him. He set a brutal pace, fucking into your slick walls without abandon as he chased his own pleasure, punching the air out of your chest.

“Fuck.” He hissed, forehead pressing against your own as he looked down to where you were joined, the leg you stood on stretched on your tippy toe to meet his height as he fucked you, “Your cunt is fucking tight.”

“Mmm.” You moaned, eyes slipping shut as the coil within your gut began to wind rapidly, each brutal thrust stretching you wide against him with painful pleasure.

“You gonna cum?” He panted, his eyes shutting behind his glasses that slid down his nose, “Can feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck.”

You nodded desperately beneath his hand, eyes opening to meet his steely gaze as he pulled his head back to watch you, the book shelf creaking as he fucked you against it.

You were so close, so fucking close.

“Go on.” He commanded, “Cum on my cock like a little slut.”

Your core clenched around him, blinding white pleasure coursing through you as you came, his hand falling from your mouth as you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the library.

“Shit, fuck. I’m gonna-“ Michael’s thrusts stuttered as a long moan burst from his lips, the warmth of his cum filling you.

You whined, hands gripping his hair as you crashed your lips against his, kissing him lazily as you both panted, his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls squeezed every last drop from him.

Michael pushed as deep as he could go, the warmth of his cum beginning to leak around the base and down your thighs as you pulsed around him. Your mind was blank, fuzzy warmth spreading through your limbs in a soporific manner. He broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you, glasses slightly foggy.

You searched his eyes and his face before a smile cracked on your lips. Michael mirrored it with a lopsided grin, huffing as he breathed out deeply.

Feeling a burst of confidence, you let a hand brush between your legs, swiping some of his cum that had dripped onto your thigh up to your mouth. You licked it off your finger slowly, opening your mouth to let him see the mess on your tongue before swallowing.

Michael’s adams apple bobbed, his cock twitching inside of you, “Fucking hell.”

You huffed another laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself as well as you on his tongue. He hummed loudly, dropping your leg to cradle your head in his hands.

When you broke away once more, you couldn’t help but notice the glaringly obvious.

Michael Gavey just fucked you in the library.

His tongue wet his lips as he looked at you, “Was that good?” A beat, “For you?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, “You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence began to stretch between the two of you before you shifted your hips, Gavey took the hint and slowly slid from your walls, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation. He tucked himself into his pants as you righted yourself, looking down at the gaping hole in the gusset of your tights.

“Well this will be an interesting walk home.” You mused, a hum of a laugh tickling the back of your throat.

Michael snorted, “Made quite the mess.”

“You did.”

Michael smirked, “It wasn’t all me now. I can’t take all the blame.”

You let your skirt drop, smoothing it down as you stepped away from the bookcase, looking back up at him.

“I suppose not. There was effort on both ends here.”

“There was.”

You nibbled at your lip, the unspoken words just at the tip of your tongue, “Michael-“

“-27. We’re in the same block.” His eyes searched yours.

Room 27? Why-

“Did you want to get a drink?” Michael blurted, shifting on his feet awkwardly as though you hadn't just fought and angrily fucked against a bookshelf.

You looked at him closely. There was no sign of insincerity in his eyes.

He was offering an olive branch.

You let a smile wash over your face, enjoying how his own came to match it.

“Sure."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

#Michael Gavey x reader #Michael Gavey x y/n #Michael Gavey #Saltburn #michael Gavey fanfic #michael Gavey smut #Saltburn fanfic #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fic #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #michael gavey fanfic #Michael gavey oneshot #saltburn #michael gavey saltburn

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thatdammchickennugget · 4 days

Note

hello!

are you taking requests?

(if you've already done this before, just ignore this, but...)

if you are, can you write a one-shot about mattheo and reader just doing something together, like maybe they're partners for potions or something or they just happen to sit at the same table in the library, but mattheo notices that the reader has some noticible scars, and they kind of just bond over scars? like the reader is kind of just uncomfortable talking about them, and mattheo notices so he starts pointing out his own scars and how he got them?

(btw, i love your writing! <3)

Marked by scars

pairing - mattheo riddle x gn!reader

warnings - mention of scars, fluff, mattheo is a softie, not proof read

wordcount - 1.8k

a/n - heya!! thank you so much! I wasn't planning on writing today but I saw this request and just had to do it right away. thanks for requesting, love💕

The edge of the Forbidden Forest loomed ominously as you trudged alongside Mattheo. Professor Slughorn's latest assignment had paired you with the notorious Slytherin, a boy rumored to be as prickly as the thorns lining the forest's edge.

The assignment had looked simple enough, the only catch: the most important ingredient of the potion – purple moonshade – was not to be found in the Professor’s cabinet and seemed to be out of stock at Hogsmeade, leaving the two of you to collect some yourself.

"Are you sure we're headed in the right direction?" you asked, glancing skeptically at the dense undergrowth around you.

The Slytherin cast a sideways glance at you, his expression unreadable behind his usual mask of indifference. "It should be around here," he replied curtly, his eyes scanning the canopy above.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. You had expected arrogance and disdain when Professor Slughorn put you two together, everything you had known about him coming from random bits of conversation you caught around the castle. But so far, Mattheo had been surprisingly cooperative—focused on the task at hand without unnecessary confrontation.

As you approached a rocky outcrop, Mattheo suddenly halted, his gaze fixed on a ledge just out of reach. "There," he murmured, pointing to a cluster of delicate purple blooms clinging to the sheer rock face.

Your heart sank. Apparently, this wasn’t going to be as quick and easy as you had hoped. "How are we supposed to get up there?"

He studied the incline, calculating silently. "We'll have to climb."

With a reluctant nod, you began scaling the rocky terrain, your hands gripping onto jutting rocks and roots for leverage. Mattheo followed suit, his movements much more fluid and controlled. As you reached for a higher ledge, you cringed as you felt your shirt ride up slightly, revealing a network of scars—some thin and faded, others more pronounced and jagged—across your side.

Mattheo's gaze flickered downwards, his brow furrowing imperceptibly. The tension in his shoulders stiffened, a faint flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly averted his eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably, the sudden awareness of his scrutiny making your skin prickle. "What?" you asked, your voice tinged with unease.

he hesitated, his usually composed demeanor faltering for a moment. "I... I didn't realize," he started, his voice softer than usual.

You finally crawled up onto the ledge next to the flower and pulled your shirt down quickly, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his gaze. "It's... it's nothing," you muttered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Mattheo didn't respond immediately, his silence stretching as he climbed up beside you and settled onto the rocky ledge. The delicate purple blooms swayed gently in the breeze, their fragrance mingling with the earthy scent of the forest.

Finally, after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual yet tinged with a newfound empathy. "It's not nothing," he began, his eyes fixed on the delicate purple petals. "They tell stories."

You swallowed, unsure how to respond to this. The forest around you seemed to hold its breath, as if mirroring your own unease.

"They're stories I'd rather forget," you admitted softly, trying to steady your voice.

Mattheo nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I used to feel the same about mine," he confessed, his fingers absently tracing a particularly prominent scar on his forearm.

Curiosity mingled with apprehension as you stole a glance at him, surprised by his openness. "You don’t anymore?"

Mattheo met your gaze with a hint of introspection, his fingers still idly tracing the scar on his forearm. "No, not anymore," he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a weight of vulnerability that mirrored your own.

You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by his unexpected openness. "What changed?" you asked softly, your curiosity outweighing your earlier discomfort.

His gaze flickered towards the canopy of leaves above your heads, as if searching for the right words. "Time, I suppose," he began slowly. "Understanding. Acceptance." His voice held a note of resignation, as if he had come to terms with something profound.

Mattheo took a deep breath, his gaze returning to meet yours with a newfound intensity. "Understanding that these scars, they're not just reminders of pain. They're markers of survival, of growth," he explained, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion.

You listened intently, captivated by the sincerity in his words. The forest around you seemed to echo his sentiments, the rustling leaves and distant calls of magical creatures creating a serene backdrop to your conversation.

"I used to hide them," he continued, his tone reflective. "Like they were something to be ashamed of. But then I realized... they're a part of me. Each scar tells a story of a challenge I faced and overcame."

A gentle breeze stirred the branches overhead, casting dappled shadows across the rocky ledge where you sat. You shifted slightly, feeling a sense of kinship with Mattheo's vulnerability. "I've never thought of it that way," you admitted softly, your gaze drifting to the scars that adorned your own skin.

Mattheo's expression softened, a faint smile playing at his lips. "It took me a while to see it too," he confessed. "But I've come to appreciate them now. I guess my friends helped me with it. Made me see them as a testament to resilience."

His words resonated deeply within you, touching a chord you hadn't realized was there. "Resilience," you echoed, the word carrying a weight of significance as you considered the scars that had once caused you so much discomfort.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of yours," he said gently, his voice carrying an earnestness that surprised you. "They're a part of your journey."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude towards him for his understanding. "Thank you," you murmured. "For... for sharing this with me."

As you sat together on the rocky ledge, the forest around you seemed to embrace the quiet intimacy of your conversation. Mattheo shifted slightly, his gaze thoughtful as he met yours. "Would you like to hear about one of mine?" he offered tentatively, his tone inviting yet cautious.

You nodded, grateful for his willingness to share. "I'd like that," you admitted, a flicker of curiosity sparking in your eyes.

Mattheo took a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "This scar," he began, indicating the one that crossed his nose, "came from my first year at Hogwarts."

Intrigued, you leaned in slightly, eager to hear more.

"I got into a rather... heated disagreement with Theo," Mattheo continued with a small, self-deprecating smile. "We used to hate each other, clashed right from the start. I suppose we were both trying to prove ourselves in our own ways."

He chuckled softly, a wry smile playing on his lips as he recalled the memory. "Theo and I were like fire and ice back then," he admitted, shaking his head with amusement. "Always at each other's throats over the smallest things. It didn't help that we were both sorted into Slytherin—like two stubborn bulls in a pen."

You couldn't help but laugh at the image he painted, the tension of the moment easing as his story unfolded. "What was the disagreement about?" you asked, genuinely curious about the details of their early rivalry.

Mattheo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Honestly, I can't even remember now," he confessed, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Probably something ridiculously trivial, like who could brew a better potion or who could cast a spell faster."

You nodded in understanding. "So, what happened?" you prompted, eager to hear more.

Mattheo leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Well, it escalated to a duel, of course," he admitted with sheepish a grin. "We were both so caught up in proving ourselves that we didn't see sense. And, well..." He gestured casually to the scar across his nose. "The spell ricocheted off a mirror and zapped me right here."

You winced sympathetically, though his lighthearted tone made the mishap seem less dire. "Ouch," you commented.

"Yeah, not my finest moment," Mattheo agreed with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling warmly. "But you know what? That scar became a badge of honor between us. After that incident, we realized how ridiculous we were being."

"It sounds like quite the turning point," you remarked.

He nodded, a fondness in his gaze as he recalled the aftermath. "Absolutely. He’s my best friend now. We laugh about it now, but back then, it was a wake-up call. Sometimes you need a scar—literal or metaphorical—to show you what's important."

"I suppose you should thank Theo then," you quipped, a playful grin tugging at your lips, surprised by how quickly he managed to cheer you up. "That scar does add to your rugged charm, after all."

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, absolutely," he replied with mock seriousness. "It's my signature look now. Makes me look like I've been through some epic battles."

"I guess you could say it gives you that mysterious, battle-hardened aura," you added, your tone light and teasing.

Mattheo grinned, a genuine warmth in his eyes that softened his usually guarded expression. "Well, if it helps with the intimidation factor, I'll take it.”

As you both sat on the rocky ledge, the last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow over the forest floor. After a moment, he turned back to you. "Ready to head back?" he asked, gesturing towards the bag of carefully collected flowers.

You nodded, grabbing the bag and sitting up on your knees. "Definitely.”

Mattheo stood up gracefully, extending a hand to help you down from the ledge. "Careful there," he cautioned gently as you maneuvered your way down, his touch steady and reassuring.

"Thanks," you murmured gratefully.

Together, you navigated the rocky terrain back towards the Hogwarts grounds, the forest slowly fading into the background as the castle came into view. The journey back was quieter than before, but not awkward—there was a newfound ease between you, a shared understanding forged through what he confided in you.

As you approached the castle gates, Mattheo glanced over at you, his expression softening with a hint of sincerity. "I'm glad we managed to find the moonshade," he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before flicking away.

"Me too," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips. "And... thank you, for what you told me. I didn't expect... well, any of this."

He inclined his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his dark curls tumbled across his forehead. "Neither did I," he confessed, his voice earnest. "But I'm glad it turned out this way."

"Thanks again, Mattheo," you said softly, hesitant to step away yet and unable to suppress a small smile.

"Anytime," he replied quietly, his voice carrying a warmth that surprised you.

With a nod of farewell, you turned to make your way to your common room, your mind buzzing with thoughts of the Slytherin boy.

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ataraxiaspainting · 5 months

Text

Demon Fire.

Yan Kafka x F Reader x Yan Blade.

Synopsis: Where is this train going?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

“Which seat do you want, darling?” Kafka asks, her thumb still making circles over your own.

Her hair is half put up in a ponytail as usual, the rest flowing down the sides of her face. She only held her purse, which held only her wallet, her phone, snacks, water, and pictures of you with her and Blade. Blade pulls her suitcase, as well as yours and his, through the narrow gap between the seat rows, with his bag noticeably smaller compared to Kafka's and yours.

You point to the one closest to the window, and Kafka smiles. “That one.”

She nods, and Blade begins to put the luggage in the cabinet above, being silent all the while you and Kafka sit down.

“Neither of you have told me where we are going.” You say as Kafka puts her head on your shoulder.

“Be patient, my dear girl. You will find out soon. You’ll love it, I promise. Bladie and I spent a lot of time searching for a place to celebrate.”

You ask what you are all celebrating, and she continues.

“Do not fret, it will only be a few hours before we reach our destination. We’ll just cuddle for now, and chat. There are also movies to watch and sights to see out the window. Both the ride there and where we are going is going to be so relaxing for all of us. You have my word. Or my honor. Whichever you prefer, dear.” You stop paying attention to her words halfway through, and when she realizes this she pecks your cheek. “Though I suspect you think that neither of them exist.”

“Maybe.” As the train begins its journey, you gaze out the window, murmuring to yourself. Like a well-rehearsed performance or clockwork, an array of colorful flowers and plants glide past, each one swiftly replaced by another. Before you know it, the vibrant beauty of spring and the whispers of Kafka lull you to sleep.

…

The landscape was a surprise, yet not entirely, as it lay in a remote location devoid of human presence except for the occupants of the cabin nestled at the foot of the verdant hill. The vast expanse was a haven of blossoms, grass, and foliage, enough to supply a lifetime's worth of adornments for a spring festival. Every imaginable flower and plant seemed to find a home here. In the nearby lake, crystal clear waters mirrored the mountain's grandeur, while tranquil sea bass and carp glided serenely beneath the surface.

Nestled beside the solitary cottage stood a windmill, its weathered blades casting a gentle shadow. Atop the one aimed towards the heavens, doves perched, unharmed, indicating the absence of predator birds in this vicinity. The setting appeared idyllic, yet a lingering unease persisted within. Despite the hours that have passed, questions lingered in your mind; what is the purpose behind Blade and Kafka bringing you to this place, and what are they commemorating?

Kafka is the one who guides you, as always, holding your hand gently and pulling you along as she chatters away. Blade, as always, simply watches from behind you two like a shadow.

…

It is Blade that opens the door to the cottage, his face still stoic, as Kafka wraps one of her arms around your waist. You have adorned yourself in the attire she adores, a lacy, ebony dress accompanied by sheer black stockings and elegant flats. Much to your misfortune, according to her, Blade doesn’t hate this outfit either.

Even though Blade was the one to open the door, it is you who is forced to step in first, and it is you who is forced to sit down first at the little wooden circular table surrounded by three chairs.

“You still haven’t told me what this is about, Kafka.” Despite your curiosity, you don’t dare to raise one of your eyebrows.

“Yes, yes. Let us just rest for a moment. I’m tired.”

“...Okay. It’s just… you’ve kept me in the dark for the past few days about this trip, so…”

Kafka lets out an exaggerated sigh before sitting down as well with a thump, pressing her thumb and forefinger against her temple, gently massaging in circular motions. She is acting like she was the one who carried all of the luggage, and not Blade, who is still putting your suitcases down in the corner. “Come on, love… I’m tired, take pity on poor little old me.”

“...”

Finally, Blade sits down in the last chair. You’re not surprised by his silence anymore.

“...” In his customary manner, he rests his hands on his lap, maintaining a polite sitting posture. Unchanging, his countenance remains impassive; it is difficult to recall a single instance where a smile has graced his face, except for those dreadful moments when he is mara-struck.

“Sigh. Bladie, which suitcase did you put the peaches in? Was it [First]’s? I’m craving one.” If you were Blade, you would have rolled your eyes. “Really badly. Almost as much as I crave our dearest. I’ll get it myself.”

“...[First]’s.”

In a split second, Kafka's wearied expression transforms into a radiant grin as she stands up and walks toward your suitcase leaning against the wall.

Kafka's gaze freezes time as he rummages through your luggage, searching for the bag of peaches. As Blade utters his words, his voice retains its roughness, yet it carries a touch of tenderness.

“...Do you like this place, [First]?” He asks, looking at you. You think he is trying to put on a small smile, from the way his lips are slightly curved upward, but it does not comfort you as intended. “We picked this place for you.”

“But why?”

As ironic as it may seem, it is always Blade you ask questions to because at least he gives straightforward answers.

“Didn’t Kafka tell you?” For once, Blade seems confused. Was he not paying attention every time you asked? “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? ...Did you not know that?”

“...Well, I’m not exactly always given access to calendars…”

“...Fair.”

You hear Kafka's mischievous laughter from the corner.

“...But happy birthday regardless, [First].”

Once more, his smile achieves the opposite of its intended effect.

#he's trying his best guys </3 #yandere #yandere x reader #aya abstractions #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere kafka x reader #yandere kafka #yandere blade #yandere hsr #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #kafka x reader

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wholoveseggs · 1 month

Note

Hey lovely, today request from me🥰

I got struck on an idea where reader tried to dominate Elijah but always fail so, she get Klaus help with some magical witchy rope or something to subdue him, which was successful.

Tho here's the thing, reader is inexperienced in doing something like that and not prepped enough to take him, cuz y'know Elijah is big.. hehehe😌🤭so she started tear up, and ask for his help. Elijah being a smug he is punish her happily after...can you added a sprinkle of daddy kink and overstimulation, pretty puh-lease with the cherry on top🙏🥺

Oh btw your story always superb 🤩 😁

Bindings

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You ask Davina for help with creating something to tie up Elijah... only for you to get in way over your head. Luckily, he is in a forgiving mood.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I decided to change it from Klaus to Davina, because I just can't see Klaus being okay with you essentially making a weapon against his family... Even if the reason behind it is just for some kinky fun ♡♡

4.9k words - Warnings: smut, *magical* bondage, dom!elijah, daddy!kink, spanking, choking, sex toys and a whole lotta praise...

You sat in Davina's greenhouse, looking around at all the various plants and flowers the young witch had collected. You had asked Davina to meet up with you to help with a problem, one that was a bit awkward to even say out loud, but you knew that she of all people would understand.

You watched her browse through her books, trying to find the spell you had requested. After a few moments, Davina had found the page and started gathering the items needed.

"Davina?" you said.

She looked up from the table and gave you a curious look. "Yeah?"

"You don't think this is a little crazy? I mean, it's a bit of a long shot."

Davina smiled. "Not at all. I may have.... tried it myself... with Kol," she replied, looking away with a light blush.

Your eyes went wide. "Oh, my God. It worked?"

She shrugged trying to appear cool, but her mischievous grin gave away her answer. You smiled back and the two of you quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles.

After the laughter had calmed down, you looked at her questioningly. "So, how does it work?"

Davina took a seat on the couch next to you and showed you the spell she had found.

"The basic binding is actually quite simple, it's the ingredients that are tricky," she explained, "luckily I have white oak ash, and the rest should be easy to find."

You nodded and listened intently as Davina read through the list of ingredients and their uses. She began by grinding the herbs and mixing them in a bowl, followed by the white oak ash.

Once the mixture was complete, Davina took a long silk rope that you had provided and dipped it in the bowl. She held the rope above the bowl, letting the excess liquid drip off as she chanted the incantation.

"Done," Davina announced, handing you the now-dry rope. "It will keep him bound and unable to break free. You can use it any way you'd like." She grinned, giving you a knowing look.

You couldn't believe how easy it had been, that you were so close to fulfilling a long-held fantasy of yours. "Thank you, Davina. You're the best," you said, pulling her into a hug.

She hugged you back, giggling as she pulled away. "One more thing, if you need to break the spell, just say 'confractus' and it will untie itself,"

You nodded, thanking her again before making your way home, the rope clutched tightly in your hand.

It was the most expensive piece of clothing you had ever purchased. It wasn't even something you could wear outside your bedroom, but damn, did it make you feel sexy.

The lingerie was a red, sheer babydoll dress with black lace trim, and it was paired with a matching thong and stockings. You had never worn anything so revealing before, but you knew Elijah would like it, and that was all that mattered.

You wanted to get him all worked up, break down the gentleman facade, make him want you so badly that he would do whatever you asked. You had been waiting for the right moment to try the rope Davina had created, and you were certain that tonight was the night.

You pulled a robe over your outfit, concealing it until the right moment. Then you sat back on your bed and texted Elijah.

"Are you free tonight?"

A few moments later, your phone vibrated.

"For you, always."

You grinned and quickly replied, "Come over."

He sent a thumbs up, and you tossed your phone aside, your nerves kept you from sitting still, and you spent the next ten minutes pacing anxiously around the room. When you finally heard a knock on the door, you jumped, startled by the sound. You took a deep breath and walked to the front of your apartment.

When you opened the door, you were greeted by a sight that made your mouth water. Elijah was dressed casually, in just a t-shirt and jeans, it was a rare sight, and one that had you practically drooling.

You stood there in silence for a moment, taking in the sight of him, until he cleared his throat and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Yes, sorry. Come in." You stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You let yourself melt into him, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

"What's this for?" You asked, teasingly tugging on his t-shirt, your hands roaming across his broad chest. "Has your dry-cleaner gone and quit on you?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I figured we would just have a quiet night in. No need for the formalities."

You nodded, your hands traveling down to his waist. You felt his body tense slightly when your fingers began to dance along the bare skin under the hem of his shirt.

"Well, I have a surprise for you," you said, looking up at him with a mischievous smile.

He raised an eyebrow and gave you a curious look. "A surprise? Well, now I'm intrigued."

You laughed and grabbed his hand, leading him to your bedroom. Once inside, you turned and faced him, taking a deep breath before you began to untie your robe. But then you stopped, looking at him with a naughty smirk.

"Take off your shirt," you ordered, your voice suddenly more confident.

He looked surprised by your words, but quickly obliged, pulling the t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

"Hmmm," you smiled as your eyes traveled down his body, appreciating his toned abs and muscular arms, lingering on where a trail of dark hair disappeared into his jeans. "Now the pants."

You watched as his hands moved to unbutton his jeans. He kept his gaze locked on you, his dark eyes filled with lust. Once the pants were undone, he slowly pushed them down, revealing his black boxer briefs and the outline of his half-hard cock.

Your mouth watered at the sight, but you knew this was just the beginning. As much as you wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him senseless, you had a plan, and you were determined to stick to it.

"Get on the bed," you commanded, gesturing to the large mattress behind him.

He climbed onto the bed, sitting back against the pillows and watching you with curiosity. You untied the belt of your robe and let it fall open, revealing the sheer lingerie underneath.

Elijah's jaw dropped, his eyes widening as they traveled over your body.

"Do you like it?" You asked, teasingly running a finger along the edge of the lace trim.

He nodded, unable to speak, his cock already fully hard and straining against his underwear.

"Good, because I want you to do something for me," you said, your voice low and husky.

He nodded again, his gaze fixed on you.

"Take off your underwear and stroke your cock."

You watched him pull his boxer briefs down and wrap his large hand around his thick shaft, slowly stroking himself.

The sight of him pleasuring himself made your own arousal grow. You let your robe drop to the floor and climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs.

He groaned, his eyes never leaving your body as he continued stroking his cock.

"Darling, you are a vision," he breathed, his voice deep and raspy with desire.

You felt heat pooling between your legs, your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your lingerie.

You leaned in and kissed him, your tongues battling for dominance as you moaned into his mouth. His other hand came up to grab your ass, pulling you closer.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes dark with lust.

"Touch yourself," he growled, his lips brushing against yours.

"No," you smirked, "I have something else in mind."

You reached over and picked up the rope, which you had placed within reach on the nightstand. You watched his eyes widen, his hand stopping its movements as he stared at the rope.

"Do you want me to tie you up?" He grinned, his hand starting to stroke his cock again.

"I have something else in mind," you repeated.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"Hands up," you commanded, leaning back slightly to give him space.

He paused for a moment before lifting his arms above his head, resting them on the pillow behind him.

You brought the rope over his wrists, looping it around and tying them together. He chuckled, his eyes darkening as he realized what you were doing.

"I never took you for a bondage girl, darling."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," you replied, your tone playful as you pulled the rope tighter.

"Unfortunately I don't think this silk rope will hold me," he said, smirking as he tugged at the restraints.

You ignored him, continuing to tie his wrists to the headboard. Once you were satisfied with the knots, you sat back and admired your work, enjoying the way he looked helpless and at your mercy.

"Oh yeah?" You questioned, trailing a finger down his chest and abs, watching him shiver.

You slowly shrugged off one of the straps of your babydoll, letting the top slide down, exposing one breast.

His eyes fixated on your bare chest, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Mmmm," you hummed, rolling the hard bud between your fingers, teasing him. Then you did the same with the other strap, pushing the top down until your breasts were completely exposed.

Elijah let out a low moan, his cock twitching against his stomach.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his eyes burning with desire.

"Do you want to touch them daddy?" You cooed, running your hands up and down your breasts.

"Yes," he hissed, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

"Go ahead, tear the rope and touch me."

"Gladly."

He tugged at the rope, once, twice, three times. It didn't budge, much to his surprise.

"How the..." he started to say, looking up at the knotted rope.

"It's just a bit of magic," you smirked, your confidence growing as you watched him struggle.

You knew the ropes wouldn't hold him forever, but you planned on making the most of the time they did.

"Now, where were we?" You leaned forward, bringing your breasts close to his face.

He craned his neck up, trying to capture one of your nipples with his mouth, but you pulled away, denying him.

"Uh uh," you scolded, "You can look, but no touching."

You moved forward again, brushing your breast against his lips. He eagerly opened his mouth, trying to suck on the hardened peak, but you kept it just out of reach.

"I will be free soon enough, little one," he growled, his eyes locking onto yours, "and when I am, you're going to be punished for teasing me."

His words sent a thrill through you, but you remained calm, refusing to show him any signs of weakness.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do, daddy?" You asked, taunting him as you rolled your hips, your wetness coating his skin.

He groaned at the sensation, his dark, lust-filled eyes watched as you began to touch his body, teasing and tormenting him.

You raked your nails down his chest and abs, earning a hiss of pleasure. You licked a hot stripe up his neck, biting his earlobe before moving to his lips. You kissed him roughly, your teeth grazing his lower lip, and he moaned, deepening the kiss.

Your hand went to his cock, stroking it slowly as he tried to buck his hips into your touch. You pulled back, smirking at him.

"You're not going to come until I say you can, understood?"

"Yes, my dear," he breathed, his eyes closing in pleasure as you tightened your grip on his shaft.

"Good boy."

You kissed him again, your tongues dancing together as you pumped his cock. He moaned into your mouth, his hips thrusting upwards, desperate for release.

You broke the kiss, looking down at him with a smirk. You couldn't wait any longer, you had to have him.

You positioned yourself over his throbbing member, lining him up with your entrance. You felt a flash of nervousness, not knowing how well you would be able to take him, but the excitement overrode the anxiety.

You lowered yourself down slowly, his thick cock stretching you open, filling you inch by inch.

"Fuck, Elijah," you moaned, burying your face into the crook of his neck, the feeling of him buried so deep, making your legs shake.

He hummed, his biceps straining against the rope as he struggled to break free. You placed your hands on his chest, using him as leverage as you began to ride him.

You knew right away that you were in trouble. Usually Elijah would take the lead, getting you all wet and worked up, he always took his time, and the pleasure he brought was slow and delicious.

But this, being on top and having all the control, was something you hadn't experienced before. It was intense, and you weren't sure if you could handle it.

Your thighs were burning as you lifted yourself up and down, but you were determined to keep going. Your eyes met his and the sight of his pupils blown wide with desire was enough encouragement for you to continue.

You rode him faster, your breath coming in short gasps. You were getting close, so close, but it was somehow all too much and not enough. You didn't think it would be this much work, and you could feel your energy waning.

It was a terrible feeling, finally getting what you wanted and being disappointed by it. You had been so confident, but now your thighs were burning and you were struggling to keep up a steady rhythm.

You looked at the ropes, seeing that they were still secure. There was no way you would be able to finish this yourself. You were going to need help.

"Eli," you whimpered, your nails digging into his chest.

"Yes, my dear," he groaned.

"I-I'm not sure... If I can keep going," you admitted, panting as you struggled to continue, a frustrated tear rolling down your cheek.

"Well, I'm still quite enjoying myself. You look absolutely exquisite like this," he teased, his eyes roaming your body.

"Elijah," you whined, "please. I-I can't."

He gave you a knowing smirk. "If you can't keep up, maybe I should be the one in charge."

"Please," you begged, your face flushing as the humiliation of being denied what you wanted so badly washed over you.

"You created this problem for yourself, little one," he reminded, "but luckily, I'm in a giving mood."

You nodded, grateful that he was willing to help you, even if he did enjoy teasing you about it. You reached up and undid the knots, releasing his hands from their restraints.

As soon as his hands were free, Elijah gripped your hips, flipping you over so he was on top. You yelped in surprise, the sudden change in position leaving you breathless.

"You are such a good girl," he praised, his voice husky with desire. "So eager to please."

He kissed you hungrily, his hands exploring your body, his fingers tugging at the hem of your lingerie.

"And this," he murmured against your lips, "is very pretty. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to tear it."

Before you could protest, he ripped the babydoll in half, exposing your entire body to him. He tossed the torn fabric aside, his dark eyes roaming your naked form.

"But it was expensive," you half-protested, even though you were throbbing at the gesture of dominance and disregard.

He growled and pinched your nipple, earning a sharp gasp, then he soothed it with a swirl of his tongue, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"How much did that little magical rope cost you?"

You shuddered, already realizing this was the price you had to pay. You knew he would punish you for this stunt and it turned you on more.

"N-nothing, it was a favor from a friend," you muttered.

He didn't like the vagueness of your answer and took the rope and tied it around your wrists as he started kissing you again, your tongue clashing with his, while his large hand roamed your body, tweaking your nipples, earning a soft moan, and then traveling down south, running his fingertips along your skin, teasing and tickling you softly.

"You are going to do exactly as I say now, understood?" he mumbled against your skin.

"Y-Yes, Daddy," you whined, already desperately bucking against his hand.

Elijah released you, flipping you onto your stomach and dragging you to the head of the bed, tying the rope to the headboard so your arms are stretched high over your head. You were on your knees, and completely under his power.

You heard him rummaging around in his dresser and your heart began beating quickly from nervousness and excitement.

He kissed the back of your neck, the heat of his body warming you, and causing goosebumps to cover your skin. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you and you instinctively arched into his embrace.

"My sweet pet, are you ready to be punished?" he asked as he held one of his ties in front of your face, "Do you have a safe word?"

Your mind raced as he put the tie over your eyes. You quickly selected a word, just in case you needed it, though you sincerely doubted that would happen. Even when he was dominant like this, he always put your pleasure first, but you wanted him to believe you were scared.

"Coffee."

"Excellent," he replied as the smooth fabric was tied tightly around your head.

You tried to lean forward but couldn't move an inch with the rope around your wrists. This rope has successfully restrained Elijah, there was no way you were getting free until he cut you loose.

"I must say… that magic rope is quite a dangerous weapon, a threat to my family." He whispered against your ear, a hint of danger in his voice, sending an excited tingle through you.

You suddenly felt his strong hand wrap tightly around your neck. He wasn't squeezing yet but he was definitely letting you know who's in charge.

"You and I both know how I handle threats to my family," he said, pressing a kiss against your neck.

A moan escaped your lips and you could hear him chuckle. You were so wound up, you weren't sure how long you could take this.

"Stay quiet," Elijah commanded.

As if in punishment, he withdrew his hand from your throat, and you almost immediately missed the feeling of his warm hand against you. A sudden slap to your ass made your body jolt.

It burned from the force of it, his large, powerful palm practically covering your entire cheek. Every sensation was heightened by the tie around your eyes and you felt your whole body heating up, your blood rushing in anticipation of what was to come.

He hit you again, on the same cheek, harder than the last time. The sound of his hand hitting your flesh seemed to fill the room. Tears pooled in your covered eyes, the burning sensation making your body hum in pleasure, mixed with a bit of pain.

You weren't sure if you could handle one more of his heavy-handed swats. Your arms hurt from being pulled high above your head, and your wrists were already chafing.

You heard him reach into your night stand, searching for something that would bring you a different kind of pain. He found what he was looking for, trailing it down your spine. It was cold and smooth, and it made your stomach drop when you realized what it was.

"Eli- wait," you protested, none of this night was going to plan, but this? You had fantasized about it, sure, but this was-

Your mind went blank when he pushed it inside you, and without mercy, he switched it on. It buzzed to life and the sudden onslaught of the vibrations made your legs shake uncontrollably, your wrists burning slightly as you pulled on them.

It was like you were filled with electricity. And the noises you were making? They were a mix of moans and pleas for release, your body already nearing its limit.

His hand was gone, no more spanking and yet- the buzzing didn't stop, you had no release in sight and that's when you realized your mistake. He wasn't going to let you finish, the intention to drive you near your peak only to take you back down.

It was torture.

And you were absolutely loving it.

The minutes seem to tick by, maybe hours. Who knows anymore. All you're aware of is your trembling thighs, sweat glistening your back and your voice, cracking slightly as you scream and moan, writhing at the touch of his hand, then the hard buzzing once again.

"Hmm, we've never tried this setting before," he mused.

"Please Eli-"

He increased the intensity, a loud buzz echoing the room, and a series of vulgar curses escaping your lips, making him laugh.

The vibrator inside you was now pulsing at a rapid pace, the pleasure blinding, building, and there's nothing you can do to prevent the inevitable.

"Don't you dare come," he ordered.

"I can't-" you began, already starting to crumble under his control.

He gave the end of the vibrator a small twist and it hit a new spot that was pure euphoria. You tried to hold on, but it was impossible, your vision went white as an orgasm rocked through you, stealing your breath away, and all of the pent up tension that was burning in the depths of your core.

You let out an ecstasy-laced scream, every fiber in you igniting, every nerve firing at once as an immense surge of pleasure washed through your trembling body, shaking you to the core.

In that moment there was only bliss. The kind of sweet bliss that washes over your exhausted form, turning your limbs to rubber and melting your insides.

Your wrists ached, and you expected Elijah to untie you, but he had gone perfectly still behind you. Your heart began to race, suddenly filled with worry about whether he had become angered by your release. You honestly couldn't undergo another round of his erotic torture and live through it.

The silence and inaction was far worse than any punishment and you felt fear creep up your neck. Suddenly the vibrator turned back on at the max setting and his hand came down hard on your ass once again, leaving it stinging and burning, and tears brimming your lids, even as your body reacted with arousal.

You weren't even sure if your wrists could survive another round and it didn't help that the orgasm had made you sensitive to the point of numbness, but you can already feel your legs shaking, threatening to buckle underneath your exhausted form.

"Daddy, please I can't. I'll pass-" you started, the warning cut off with another slap.

You couldn't do it anymore, your wrists hurt more than the spanking. You remembered Davina had said that the rope could be undone with one word from you. Just as another spank was about to rain down, you rasped out 'confractus' and the rope fell off your wrists. You didn't waste a second, the moment you felt your hands free, you were tugging the blindfold down and pulling the vibrator out of you, tossing it across the bed and collapsing.

Elijah looked a bit shocked by your sudden escape, but that didn't stop him. With you no longer held in the bindings, he took it as another reason to keep punishing you and he grabbed your hips and pulled you underneath him.

His eyes were hard and wild, almost black, and his lips were curled up in a delicious smirk as he locked eyes with yours. The blindfold was held tight against your neck with one hand, keeping the pressure just enough to cause slight discomfort.

But then his eyes flicked to your wrists and the damage that had been done. The burns were deep, almost red and his demeanor changed instantly. His expression went soft, filled with remorse, but his dark, lust-filled eyes didn't change, still heated and primal, and needing release.

"I sometimes forget how delicate you are," he said softly, taking one of your wrists into his hand and giving a gentle kiss.

You flinched a little from the sting of it, watching his apology fill his eyes. You knew his guilt and self loathing was about to start, but before he could pull away, you reached up and grabbed the back of his neck and smashed your lips against his.

"I love when you get like this Eli," you admitted as the kiss broke, "Punishing me, fucking me, owning me. So don't start beating yourself up."

His response was an immediate hot sigh against your lips, relieved that he didn't hurt you.

"You do like the attention, do you?" he teased lightly, nuzzling your nose.

You nod, giving another kiss to the tip of his nose. "Always, but can you make this punishment worth it? It better end in a long, hot shower together or I might pass out," you whispered with a cheeky smile.

His shoulders shook from a silent laugh and his arms moved to either side of your face, caging you in with his warm presence, and you couldn't help the blush that spread through your cheeks as the emotion on his face flickered between the self-hating Elijah to the sweet one that you were in love with.

He ran his hand down your leg, then he lifted your thigh and held it against his hip and slowly, gently eased himself inside you. His lips were inches from and you couldn't look away. His eyes had softened now, and your heart melted at the devotion in them, only meant for you.

He slid his hand to the back of your neck as you clung to his shoulder, meeting him thrust for thrust as the pace gradually quickened. Your toes curled as waves of pleasure washed over you, but you held on this time, waiting for his permission, wanting to find release together.

His lips caressed your neck, his breathing ragged, and his movements became more erratic as his own control began to slip. The low, animalistic sounds rumbling in his chest nearly set you off, but somehow you managed to hang on.

Your mind is a fog, filled with everything Elijah; his smell, his warmth, the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of his heavy breath, his low voice in your ear, his hips moving in a perfect tempo. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and intoxicating. You weren't sure how much longer you could hold out, especially with the way he was whispering your name like a prayer.

Your legs began to tremble again, Elijah knew you were close, and you were being so good for him. He could see the effort your restraint required in the furrow of your brow and the desperation in your eyes, he saw it in the twitching of your fingers and he felt the small spams from the place the two of you are joined.

"You've been such a good girl, come for me sweetheart," he cooed, nipping at your ear.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back. It felt like the earth beneath you cracked open and molten pleasure coursed through your veins, pouring into every cell and nerve, bathing you in absolute bliss.

Elijah kept rocking, dragging out your orgasm and making his own release finally explode throughout every part of him. As the both of you shook from pleasure, he didn't stop kissing you, kissing your cheeks, neck, and nose as the both of you tried to calm down. You clung to his biceps, relishing his touch, trying to calm down your raging heartbeat.

He released you and flipped onto his back, tugging you along, and making sure that you stayed close. You cuddled into his side, giving his chest small, gentle kisses.

He took your wrist, seeing the faint redness where the rope had burned your skin and gave it another tender kiss.

"Don't tell Klaus about the rope, he would not be very pleased to know you and Davina are making weapons behind his back, love."

You snorted and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, "how did you know it was Davina?"

He chuckled and rested his chin on the top of your head.

"Call it an educated guess," he teased and his hand playfully smacked your butt.

You both gave out a little chuckle before falling back into a comfortable silence. Your body had officially given out on you and exhaustion had taken over your form.

Elijah lifted you up out of bed and brought you to the shower, making sure that you were clean of any sticky sweat or traces of what had gone down moments ago. He wrapped his strong arms around you once you were dressed and both cleaned, bringing the covers around both of your bodies before kissing your forehead, and drifting off to sleep, holding you possessively against him.

This night didn't go as you planned, but you did not regret a thing.

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I've gotten a few dm's about my tags not working (yay) so let me know if its still a problem, I just re-tagged all of you so hopefully that solved it ♡

(It may be the hearts causing the issue but I don't want that to be true, so I am in denial)

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #davina claire #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #smut

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philistiniphagottini · 7 months

Note

I'm back bitch lmao

Tbh I'm feeling either very innocent or very filthy depending on how you'll go about it soooo

63? With any chara u choose

I have spoken 😏

Hello friend :) Just so you know, it was your mistake for giving me the power to choose the character because I know your weaknesses. So I decided to go with Jing Yuan. Thanks for indulging me. Hope you enjoy~

63. thigh fucking (intercrural)

Smut Prompts

NSFW below the cut

"Keep your legs pressed together for me" General Jing Yuan commanded, a small purr of your name falling from his rosy lips.

You hummed softly, heat prickling your bare skin and pooling in the pit of your stomach as Jing Yuan manhandled you to his pleasing. He held both your dainty ankles with a firm grip, resting them on his sturdy shoulder as your feet dangled uselessly beside his ear. You whimpered softly as you slipped an arm under the fluffy pillow supporting your head, nails digging into the fabric as he sandwiched his boiling cock between your plush thighs.

Jing Yuan’s hot breath tickled your skin as he moaned, golden eyes smouldering like embers as he watched you squirm with need beneath him. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he slid his cock against your creamy pussy, revelling in the harsh moan that spilled from your kiss swollen lips. Your blood simmered in your veins, heart pounding so loudly in your ears that you could barely hear anything over the incessant pulse. Your breathing wavered as the tip of his cock kissed your aching clit, spreading your arousal along his shaft as he continued to slowly rut against you.

General Jing Yuan didn’t think the sight of his little darling prancing around in thigh high, sheer lace stockings would stir something in him. He had, evidently, been so wrong about the amount of power a simple article of clothing would have over him. The mere sight of the lace hugging your thighs sent his mind into a tizzy. If he had any less self-control, he would have had his way with you at the Seat of Divine Foresight.

A warm chuckle blew past his lips as you mewled his name, rocking your hips against him and desperate for more sparks of friction on your wet pussy, your insides clenching around nothing as a hot coil wound tight in the pit of your stomach. Jing Yuan tilted his head, placing a featherlight kiss on your ankle as his hands sunk into your plush thighs, fingers squeezing generous amounts of skin.

"Eager?" he mused.

His fingers slipped under the lacy band of your thigh high socks, brushing against the sensitive skin and making your pulse race frantically beneath your skin. You nodded, arousal flushing your skin and turning the tips of your ears hot from the obscene, wet noise coming from between your thighs. Jing Yuan hummed with amusement, lazy eyes lidded as he let go of the elastic band of your stockings and let it snap back against your skin with a satisfying noise. You squeaked loudly, hips jolting forward as he repeated his actions. He adored the noises that stirred in your chest and he would never tire from dragging them from your bruised lips. His strong, calloused hands curled around your hips as he pulled you harder against him, the bed creaking from the sudden movement. You moaned sweetly as your core throbbed, causing your legs to tighten and squeeze the general’s thick cock until it felt like his dick was being completely smothered by your thick thighs.

A pleased purr rumbled in his chest. "Good girl. Squeeze me just like that."

Pre-cum dribbled from the tip of his cock and smeared against your hot skin, the small beads only adding to the pearls of slick that stained the insides of your thighs. A pleasant tingle raced down your back as his thumbs parted your silky lips like a delicate flower, forcing you to feel more of the sensual drag of his cock over your velvety folds. Your eyelashes fluttered over your burning cheeks, eyes threatening to slip close as you gripped onto your pillow tighter, head thrown back as stars wavered in your vision.

"General…so good…so close" you moaned between shaky breaths.

Your chest heaved with each laboured breath, tits bouncing with every punctuated jerk of Jing Yuan’s hips. You jolted beneath him with a sharp gasp when his thumb brushed against your pretty clit, giving it much needed attention as he rubbed the bundle of nerves in firm, tight circles. You cried out beneath him as the knot in your stomach tightened, back bending in a beautiful arc as your toes curled into the soles of your feet. You could feel his cock throbbing between your thighs, the thick ridges on the underside of his shaft hitting your soft spots and emptying your head of every single thought until you felt dizzy with bliss. A hand lazily crawled up your chest, cupping one of your trembling breasts and squeezing the soft flesh. You almost bit your tongue when Jing Yuan pinched a rosy tip between his fingers and tugged at the nerve.

"Is my pretty girl going to cum now?" Jing Yuan cooed, thumb pressing down on your clit until the little bud shrieked from the attention.

You nodded, a constellation of tears clinging to your lashes as you writhed under the General’s attention. "Yes" you croaked.

"Then don’t keep me waiting~"

You burst at the seams only a scant few seconds later, unable to hold onto the fraying ends of your sanity as you were intimately ripped apart at the seams. Your hot walls spasmed around nothing, the coil in your stomach shattering as your veins were flooded with white hot relief. You twisted beneath Jing Yuan, moaning his name to the heavens like it was the only word you remembered. A deep growl reverberated in his chest before you felt thick ropes of his seed splatter along your stomach and the insides of your thighs, the tip of his drooling cock pressing hard against your clit as you rode out the last dregs of your pleasure high.

It felt like your heart was in your throat as you tried to regain control of your breathing, legs shaking in Jing Yuan’s grasp as he leaned forward. He pressed your knees to your chest as he loomed over you, lips catching yours in a searing kiss. His breath was hot against your lips as his tongue plunged into your open mouth, spent cock still throbbing against your abdomen when you pressed closer to him. You delved your hands through his thick mane of hair, soft locks curling around your fingers as you tugged sharply on the strands. Jing Yuan groaned into your mouth, teeth catching on your bottom lip as you pulled apart from the kiss.

His eyes sparkled with mirth, fingers dipping beneath the band of your stockings once more and teasing the material with soft tugs. He leaned into your touch as your fingertips massaged his scalp, nails scraping against the back of his head as placed a soft kiss to his chin. His lips moved against yours when he spoke, his warm breath mingling with yours as his mouth ghosted over your skin.

"You should wear these more often" he mused, tugging at your stockings. "But next time, for my eyes only."

#my writing #request #imastrangeone98 #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #female reader #x reader

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telekinetictrait · 2 months

Text

It wasn’t too big of a surprise when Miss Myra Beckett left her Papa’s tobacco farm following her twenty-fourth birthday. Mister Myron Beckett always said his daughter was an independent spirit, and her Mama — may God rest her soul — always said she was too much trouble to ever marry. Nowadays, Myra lives in New York with her closest companion, an up-and-coming artist called Rosetta Nelson. Postcards sent to the remaining Beckett children say that Myra acts now, and has found more solid employment in a library. They say that Rosetta is the best painter since those Italian men of the Renaissance, and that her unkind husband walked out on her, and that she and Myra have recently gotten a puppy together. Ain’t that something? Well, Mister Beckett says over tea, at least she’s not living with a man unmarried…

"maybe i'll use them for something else one day,"

i said, immediately falling in love with them. well. you know the drill, cc links and creator tags under the cut!

check my resources page and genetics tag for genetics

hair/eyebrows : simadelic’s georgie curls – serawis’ 1920’s brows // saturngalore’s harlem pinup locs – ceeproductions’ snatched baby hairs

everyday : zurkdesign's cloche hat conversion – pixelunivairse's wendy earrings 04 – christopher067's prism cloud necklace – adrienpastels solitaire dress (a billion thanks to @simfuldelights to reuploading it for me <3!) – blueraptorsden’s vintage stockings – waxesnostalgic’s cuban heel mary janes // sunflower-petals’ kasi earrings – happylifesims’ 1920s day dress 01 – simlasya’s pearl flower ring – blueraptorsden’s vintage stockings – waxesnostalgic’s cuban heel mary janes

formal : laeska’s zita earrings – happylifesims’ roxie court dress – blueraptorsden’s vintage stockings – simsfromthepast’s 1920’s shoes // thelpethondiel’s pearl choker – happylifesims’ queenie dress – dancemachinetrait’s pemberley gloves – simsfromthepast’s 1920’s shoes

athletic : waxesnostalgic's short sleeved armistice blouse – waxesnostalgic's trousers – lehgames bow oxfords // waxesnostalgic's short sleeved plain blouse – waxesnostalgic's trousers

sleep : happylifesims' accessory duster coat – caio-cc’s ballet flats // largetaytertots’ bonnet add-ons – happylifesims’ 1920s nightgown with robe – simlasya’s pearl flower ring – caio-cc’s ballet flats

party : delis-sims’ marlene headband – glitterberrysims’ jade dragonfly earrings – ladybolet’s old hollywood eyeshadow – evazetta's gwen lipstick – flowermilksims’ clover and pearl necklace – retropixels' starlet dress – kumikya’s sheer gloves – akrsims' bow pumps b // simstrouble’s notte headpiece – someone-elsa’s tassel earrings – ladybolet’s old hollywood eyeshadow – evazetta’s ingrid lipstick – ms-marysims’ isabel necklace – happylifesims’ 1920s evening dress 08 – kumikya’s sheer gloves – gohliad's mary janes

swim : plumbobteasociety’s vintage knit turban – hypergnomesimblr’s soft serve tennis dress // plumbobteasociety’s vintage knit turban – waxesnostalgic’s androgynous swimsuits – simlasya’s pearl flower ring

summer : happylifesims’ boater – pixelunivairse's wendy earrings 04 – christopher067's prism cloud necklace – happylifesims’ 1920s day dress 09 – blueraptorsden’s vintage stockings // pixelunivairse's wendy earrings 0 – christopher067's prism cloud necklace – retropixels stenographer dress – simlasya’s pearl flower ring

winter : moon-simmer's asuncion cloche recolor – pixelunivairse's wendy earrings 04 – standardheld's scarf 03 – moon-simmer's mercedes coat recolor – dancemachinetrait’s pemberley gloves – plumbjam’s wool leggings // happylifesims' miss fisher cloche – pixelunivairse's wendy earrings 04 – zurkdesign's fur coat – dancemachinetrait’s pemberley gloves – plumbjam’s wool leggings

sugar : sforzcc's fetching stuff – nolan-sims couronne de fleurs for pets

thank you to @simadelics @serawis @saturngalore @ceeproductions @zurkdesign @pixelunivairse @christopher067 @blueraptorsden @waxesnostalgic @sunflower-petals @happylifesimsreblogs @simlasya @laeska @simsfromthepast @dancemachinetrait @lehgames @caio-cc @largetaytertots @delis-sims @flowermilksims @kumikya @simstrouble @someone-elsa @ms-marysims @plumbobteasociety @hypergnomesimblr @moon-simmers @nolan-sims and anyone not on tumblr/not-taggable!!

#my sims #1920s #sims 4 1920s #ts4 1920s #sims 4 1920s lookbook #ts4 1920s lookbook

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callsign-cacti · 10 months

Text

(im)Patiently Waiting

Summary: You and Bob have been dancing around one another for years. Now, with Jake and Bob eyeing each other, you have a plan. Hopefully, it ends with both of them in your bed... or any bed.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Explicit, Threesome (m/m/f) Vaginal penetration, oral (f recieving), hints of anal fingering, brief cum eating, waiting, lingerie, brief mention of subspace, sub jake, dom reader

Word Count: 5,300

Written for @sushiwriterhere's TGM threesomeissance challenge! I was working on this before the challenge, and have a pretty decent backstory attached to this that will hopefully be out soon!

Masterlist

He was still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm when you pulled out of his arms, turning to face him.

“I know your not gonna like this…”

“Then don’t say it…” Jake interrupted, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips to distract you.

“But maybe, we should put a pause on sleeping together, just until we can talk to Bobby!” You rushed the last part of your sentence out, desperate for him to understand that this wasn’t you rejecting him, but an effort to try and make whatever the hell was happening between the three of you work.

At this, Jake dropped his head to your shoulder, whining loudly. To a certain degree, he understood where you were coming from, but… he also really liked fucking you.

And that led him to where he was now. The first day it wasn’t that bad. He was a man; he could go a couple days without putting his dick in something. And you had woken him up with a blowjob before breaking the news, so that had helped. After your announcement, the two of you had watched a movie, basking in the presence of one another, and had fallen asleep still wrapped up in one another.

Day two, Jake had woken up to you grinding back on him in his sleep. It had taken everything in his power to still your hips, gently nudging you awake. He had to go back to base that night, as it was a Sunday, and report in the morning. When he got home that night, he was sorely tempted to open his file of pictures of the two of you in bed, but decided against it

Monday morning, Jake had been to nervous about seeing Bob to focus on anything, but the two of them had little to no interaction that day, as they were running drills with their wingmen that day, and Jake had opted to stay in that night instead of going out with the squad.

Today, you were supposed to be coming up, only staying at your place the last couple days because you had some meetings that you had to take care of.

But, even though it had been you that had put the no sleeping together rule in place, it hadn’t stopped you from texting him every hour on the dot since six am reminding him that you were coming up today, and that you had missed him.

And his cock.

Now, it was 4:59, and he was staring at his phone, wondering what you were going to do next, and debating on quitting his job so that he could be with you 24/7.

His phone dinged, and if he hadn’t been so primed to open the text, he would have heard the other phone in the room chirp. But he had a single-minded focus on the notification that was on his screen, a picture this time.

Biting his lip, he barely held back a groan as the picture of you, dressed in a dark green lingerie set. The bra was sheer, with lace flowers decorating the cups of the bra, barely hiding your nipples. A belt sat high on your waist, thin strips of fabric connecting it to the lace of your panties, little bows on the ends of it. Lace garters with embroidered flowers sat snug on your thighs, holding up the lace stocking you had on. Jakes hand was in the process of sliding from your breast down to cup your pussy, his fingers barely having made it inside the underwear.

And damn, if he wasn’t hard before, he certainly was now, remembering exactly what had happened a few minutes after you took this picture.

Glancing towards the showers, he wondered if he should take care of it now. After all, you had technically never said that he wasn’t allowed to touch himself, and it had been four goddmaned days. He wasn’t a saint.

But as he turned his attention back to his locker, he realized he was the only one left in the room.

Besides Bob.

Bob, who was staring intently down at his phone.

Bob who was staring at his phone pitching a tent in his boxers.

“Whatcha lookin at over there Bobby boy?” Jake teased, breaking the silence in the room as he leaned against Roosters locker. Bob jumped at his words, head whipping towards where Jake stood, and dropping his phone in the process.

He was quick to lean down to pick it up. But Jake was even faster, his suspicions of what Bob had been looking at confirmed. It was the same picture that you had sent him, you all pretty in your lingerie and him behind you. But there was another one below it that Jake hadn’t received.

Your hands were fisted in his hair, his mouth pressed against the dark fabric of your underwear. If he looked close enough, he could see the beginnings of the damp patch from the mixture of his spit and your arousal.

Bob was quick to snatch his phone back, his face a bright red as he tossed it in his locker before slamming the door shut, taking a deep breath before he turned back to face Jake.

“Like what you saw?” He asked, his voice already husky, and his cock straining against his towel.

Bob just stared at Jake, seemingly looking to find something on Jakes face. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it, because Bob looked him up and down, eyes pausing on the bulge beneath his towel before nodding.

“Yeah, I really fucking liked it. Seems like you did to!” Taking a step away from his locker, he brought his eyes back to Jake.

Jake hummed, refusing to move as Bob continued to advance on him. The logical voice in his head told him that whatever was about to happen should not have been happening in a locker room at work, where anyone could walk in, where anyone could see and report him and Bob.

The last thing he wanted right now was to be court martialed. And then, Bob stopped inches away from Jake and smirked, and all logical thoughts flew out of Jakes head.

“Tell me, you like being on your knees for her? Did she taste as good as I remember? She still let out that breathy little whimper when you first push into her?”

Jesus.

Jake fought a shutter, refusing to back down to Bob quite so fast.

“She tastes amazing Floyd, that much hasn’t changed. But there was no whimpering, she fucking screamed for me!”

They were so close they were almost touching, the pretty blue of Bobs eyes hidden beneath the black of his iris.

“And as for being on my knees, it’s one of my favorite places to be. To bad you won’t let me show you!” And even though it was the last thing Jake wanted to do right then, he took a step back, pulling in a breath as he watched Bob shutter. But he had to put the ball in Bobs court, seeing as the last time he had tried to make a physical move, Bob had ended up shoving him away and ignoring him for a week straight.

He had gotten half a step back to his locker before Bob moved, planting his hands on Jakes chest and shoving him back up against the lockers. One hand moved to the cold steel besides Jakes head, and the other traced down his chest, fingers dipping into the lines of his abs.

“Who says I won’t let you show me?” Jake just swallowed, waiting for Bob to continue.

Bob dipped his head, bringing his lips to Jakes ear. “What do you think, think you could be as good for me as you are for her?”

Teeth biting into the skin of his lower lip, Jake nodded. When Bob pulled his head back, his eyes immediately narrowed, bringing the hand back up Jakes chin to tug the skin out from under his teeth.

“What was that?”

Jake nodded again, and Bob fisted the other hand in Jakes hair, tugging at the soft strands and finally pulling a moan out of Jake.

“Use your words!” He hissed, emphasizing with another tug on Jakes hair. And Jake couldn’t help the jerk of his hips, or the sound that escaped his lips as he finally felt some pressure on his aching cock.

Bob smiled, leisurely letting his gaze travel down Jakes body, before settling on the place where Jakes hips continued to grind into Bobs thigh.

“Wound a little tight huh?” Jake nodded, continuing to hump Bobs thigh, throwing his head back a Bob flexed for him, moving his thigh so more pressure was applied. He jumped as he felt lips on his throat, then his collarbone, then on then sensitive spot right where his neck met his shoulder.

Somewhere, distantly, Jake heard a phone ding, and then a second later, another ding in a different ring tone, which led his mind back to the pictures. Grinding down harder on Bob, Bob nipped at him, but the fingers on Jakes hips tightened.

Then, Bobs thigh was gone, but there was a hand playing with the knot on his towel, loosening it before it completely fell away.

And then pressure. Glorious, amazing, jaw dropping pressure as Bob fisted his cock.

We should put a pause on sleeping together, just until we can talk to Bobby

And as much as he wanted to stay right where he was, Jake paused, bringing his hands to Bobs shoulders and pushing slightly.

“Bob, we… Bob!” He hissed, drawing Bobs attention away from his neck, his hand stopping his movements.

Jake sucked in a breath, then another trying to get his thoughts straight.

“You can’t make me cum…!” At this, Bob took a step back, putting space between their bodies and allowing Jake space to formulate a thought.

“What?” Bob asked, confusion, shame and something else that Jake was too disoriented to place at the moment.

“No, it’s just…” Scrubbing his face with his hands, he tried to explain.

“The other day, she told me that, well, I mean I guess she didn’t really tell me I couldn’t, but I haven’t because, well, I don’t really know…”

“Jake, you haven’t what. What did she tell you not to do?”

Jake finally looked back at Bob, realizing how terribly he was explaining this.

“She told me that she thought it was best if the two of us didn’t fuck until you joined us. I guess she never technically said I couldn’t cum. Or that you couldn’t make me cum. But, I just… It feels wrong to do this without her. At least, right now it does!”

And throughout his explanation, he watched Bobs face soften, a look of fondness he wasn’t used to seeing directed at him beginning to shine through.

“Well then, she’s at your house right?” He asked, moving back towards his own locker. Jake nodded, and Bob began gathering his things.

“Then what are you waiting for, lets go!”

You had tried to time your trip so that you would be Jake home but had gotten stuck in traffic after there was construction on the highway, so you breathed a sigh of relief as you pulled into the driveway to see it empty.

Now it was time to start on step two of your plan.

Quickly, you let yourself into the house, beelining straight to Jakes room and stripping, rushing slightly, worried that someone would come home and ruin everything.

It was only once you tugged your shirt back on did you let out a sigh of relief, walking back into the living room to wait for Jake.

You were scrolling through your phone, looking for something that appealed to you for dinner later, when you heard a car pulling into the driveway, then the key fitting into the lock on the door.

“Hey Jakey, you want Italian or Chinese food tonight?”

“How about burgers?”

Your head shot up, brows furrowing at the sound of Bobs voice. You took in the two of them standing there in slight shock, and bit your lip to hide the grin that threatened to break out over your face.

Yesterday when you had talked to Jake, he had said that he hadn’t seen Bob at all, and that he wasn’t really supposed to have any time to talk to him today either.

You had left the ball in Bobs court for to long, and that had gotten you nowhere. You were in charge now, and you didn’t intend on letting either of them slip through your fingers.

Hence, the texts and photos. Both of the boys had been getting them all day, but there was only so much you could do from one side of the phone. You had just had to hope that a higher power would put them in the right place at the right time.

Seemed like your plan was working.

“Thanks for the pictures, by the way!” Bob said, moving across the kitchen to grab a water from the fridge, like he had been over a hundred times. Jake on the other hand, stood unmoving save for his eyes, which darted back and forth between you and Bob.

His face was flushed, and his normally perfect hair was messy and undone. And he was hard.

Then you looked back at Bob, who was watching you put the dots together with a smug look on his face.

“What did you do to him Bob?” You asked, opening your arms from Jake, which he immediately crossed the room to sink into.

“Nothing that he didn’t want me to. Besides, in a way, he started it!” Bob protested, pushing off of the counter and starting towards the two of you.

“What does he mean you started it Jakey?” You asked, bringing your fingers up to card through his hair.

“I asked if you had sent him the picture too!” He said, arching his head into your fingers. Bob nodded, confirming what Jake said, and you gestured for him to go on.

“And then, I asked him if you tasted as good as I remember, and if he liked being on his knees for you!” Jakes hips jolted as Bob spoke, and you smiled. Your needy boy. Fingers tightening in his hair, you drew his head out of your neck so that he was looking you in the eye.

“Did Bobby touch you Jakey”

Jakes eyes darted between you and Bobby, not completely sure of which one was in charge here. Then, your hands were on his chin, drawing his attention back to you.

“Yeah!” His answer was soft and breath, his eyes darting up to where Bob had come to stand behind you on the couch, smirking.

“Did it feel good Jakey?”

“Yeah!” You smiled at his one word answers, his eyes already a little cloudy. You knew first hand how intoxicating Bob could be. And Jake, bless his heart, got so needy when he was a little attention starved.

“But I didn’t cum!” Jake added in, his words hurried and his eyes wide as he begged for you to understand. Your brows furrowed as you looked up towards Bob for an explanation.

“He said that you had told him to wait until we were all together!” Bob offered, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, thumb caressing the skin just shy of the spot that would have you melting.

Looking back down at Jake, you beamed at him, watching him relax under the smile.

“Mm, bet that was hard, wasn’t it Jakey? Bobs hands feels good, don’t they!” Jake whined as your own hands slid down his back, nails leaving light pink marks on his skin.

“Oh I barely even used them, he was getting off on my thigh!” Bob teased, thumb tracing over a sensitive spot that made you shiver. His hands continued to move, pushing the collar of Jakes big shirt down, until he found the strap of your bra, plucking it.

You turned your gaze back to him, one eyebrow arched behind those glasses as the two of you had a silent conversation. It was Jakes little groan that pulled the two of you out of the trance, and when you looked back down at him, Jake was staring at the red bra strap, eyes narrowed, probably trying to figure out if he had seen this piece before.

He hadn’t.

You had gone shopping yesterday, buying some new stuff several sets in preparation.

“And you were so good, waiting like I told you to! I think he deserves a reward for being such a good boy? Don’t you Bobby?”

You can heard Bob grunt in agreement behind you, but your already shifting Jake so that you can slide out from under him so that you were straddlign his waist.

“I’ll even let you pick. Do you want your cock in my mouth, or your tongue in my pussy?”

While you were talking, one of Bobs hands had slid into Jakes hair, the other resting on the back of the couch. Jake let out a whimper, and you could see the veins in Bobs forearm bulging, assuming that Bob was tugging on Jakes hair.

So he had already figured out that Jake liked his hair pulled. Interesting.

“Do I get a say in this?” Bobs voice was gruff, and when you looked up at him, the pretty blue of his eyes was completely hidden by the black of his iris. Looking back down at Jake who was practically panting underneath you, you debated.

“I don’t know, what do you think Jake?” His eyes widened before snapping shut as you ground against him, his hands shifting to move to your hips to help guide you. And then his head was pulled back, eyes flying open to stare up at Bob.

“She asked you a question Jake!”

Jake was silent, but refused to break eye contact, making you smirk.

“Well, Jake here has been such a good boy for us these past few days, not even touching himself even though I never told him that he couldn’t. Just that I couldn’t. And I think that deserves a bit of a reward, don’t you Bob? Even if he’s being a bit of a brat right now!”

Jakes hands tightened on your waist, but his eyes never left Bobs, defiant until the last moment till he slipped into subspace.

“Well…” Bob started, and you could already see that he wasn’t going to agree with you. It was funny that he thought that wasn’t a rhetorical question. So, you turned your attention to him.

“And you, making me wait, making us wait all this time. I think it’s only fair that we make you wait this time!” Bob broke eye contact with Jake at this, all of his attention homing in on you. Swallowing, you took a deep breath.

You would probably pay for this later, but for right now, it was so worth it.

“I think that’s a great idea, Bob, why don’t you go sit,” Motioning towards the chair a few feet away from the two of you. “And I’ll even be nice and let you touch yourself!” You giggled, moving your hands under Jakes shirt to feel the warm skin below. In seconds you had it off, throwing it somewhere in Bobs direction as you began exploring Jakes chest.

At Bobs indignant sound, you turned your attention back to him, holding the shirt and now hovering in front of the two of you.

“So you’re in charge now huh?”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to back down. “Well, I’ve let you be in charge for years, and look where that got us. So, if you want to play right now, you’ll sit your ass down in that chair and listen like a good boy!”

You were only slightly shocked when Bob conceded, flopping down onto the chair and glaring at the two of you. Turning back to Jake, you found him wide eyed.

“That… that was really fucking hot!” He whispered in an attempt to hide his words from Bob. Smiling, you kissed him, short, sweet little pecks that turned hot quickly, your tongue delving into Jakes mouth and exploring. Your hands traveled up his stomach, running over his pecks and scratching before continuing their journey up to his hair. With one last lick into his mouth, you pulled back, Jake chasing your mouth, but your hands were there to pull him back.

“I think I’ve decided!” You said to the room, and then leaned down so you were speaking only to Jake, lips brushing the outer shell of his ear. “You wanna show Bobby how good your are on your knee’s? And then I’ll suck you off! Sound good?” Pulling back, you are pleased to see shuttered eye lids and flushed cheeks as Jake nods along with you.

Planting one last kiss on his lips, you push yourself off his lap, turning to Bob as you shuck your shirt off.

“Ready for a show?” You smirked, pushing off of Jake and gently guiding him to the floor. His eyes wide as he takes in the new bra your wearing, the sheer fabric stretched across your breasts doing little to hide your peaked nipples.

His eyes go even wider as you take your shorts off, revealing the garter set and crotchless pantie set in his favorite color. Immediately he ducks his head, desperate to taste you, but you tut, fisting his hair and pulling him back.

The whine that comes out of him has you clenching, just as desperate for him as he is for you. But this isn’t just about the two of you.

“Aren’t you forgetting something sweet boy?” Hazy eyes are slow to drag up your body to meet your gaze, but they do.

“Please… please can I taste you?”

Across the room, Bob groans, but you don’t break eye contact with Jake. “Yeah sweet boy, you can taste me!”

And with that, he’s diving right into your pussy, licking from your entrance to clit. The first time is always sloppy with him, him so eager to get you off, the finesse he always brag about goes right out the window. But damn if the mans tongue doesn’t make you cum quicker then anyone else has.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bob shifting in the chair, tugging his shorts down so that he can start stroking himself. You can feel his eyes on you, bouncing back and forth between your face and where Jake has settled in between your thighs, but you refuse to give him the attention he so desperately wants.

Soon, you feel the familiar tightening of your stomach, Jake having homed in on your clit after sliding two of his fingers inside of you, hooking them to hit your g-spot. Tightening your grip on his hair, he moans, the vibration pushing you over the edge. Like the well-trained man that he is, he continues to lick at you until your tugging his hair again, guiding him away from your sensitive pussy.

He’s a mess, your slick all over his face, eyes lidded and glazed, and a satisfied grin plastered on. Finally, you turn your attention to Bob, clearing your throat to get his attention. With one hand, you motion to Jake. “Clean him up!”

Bob hesitates for a split second before he’s rushing across the room, throwing himself down next to you and pulling Jake into his lap, tongue diving into Jakes mouth to taste you. You clench around nothing when Bob begins to clean you off of Jakes face, tongue lapping at his cheeks, and then his chin, and Jake grinds down onto Bobs lap.

Once Bob has cleaned him off, and is now just sucking kisses onto Jakes neck, you clear your throat, bringing their attention back to you.

“Well, I was going to suck you off Jakey!” Jake jolts at this, a whimper coming from deep in his throat as you pause at that, panicking at the thought of his reward being taken away.

You chuckle. “Relax baby, I was just going to say you look mighty content on Bobs lap. You wanna stay there, grind on his thighs like you were earlier, get off that way?”

And he looks so torn, glancing between you and Bob that you can’t help but grin, leaning in to draw him into a kiss. You can still faintly taste yourself, and you find yourself deepening the kiss until Bob moves his thigh, jolting Jake and making him break the kiss.

You glare at Bob, who doesn’t look sorry at all, before turning back to Jake.

“Or… do you think you can do both?” Jake nods furiously. “Please!” He whines.

“He can… you can?” Bob asks, glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“Oh yes, our Jakey here has a great recovery time. Makes playtime fun!” Bob nods, his hands tightening on Jakes hips, moving him back and forth before deciding that he wants more. He looks at you, “Earlier, I had my hands on him! May I?”

“Don’t ask me,” You shrug. “Ask Jake?”

“Please!” Jake says, lifting his head from where it had come to rest on Bobs shoulder. He makes eye contact with you as he begs for it, before throwing his head back as Bob wraps his hand around him.

You don’t even have to look down to know that Jakes leaking enough to lube himself, but either way, you reach into the drawer beside the couch, fishing out a bottle of lube and opening it, squirting some into Bobs hand.

“Play with his balls, he likes that!” Bob says nothing, but shifts one his hands, acquiescing to your command, and Jakes moan rips through the room, which is quiet except for the obscene squelching noise of Bobs hand on Jake, and Jakes moans.

And you can’t help but slide two fingers through your own wetness, before offering them to Bob, who open his mouth and eagerly sucks at them.

This is what pushes Jake over the edge, his release shooting up onto his stomach and Bobs. You remove your fingers, tracing Jakes abs, before bringing them up to Bobs mouth again.

“Evil!” Jake whimpers, “Your evil!” You giggle, leaning down to place a firm kiss on Jakes lips, nipping at his bottom one before pulling away to kiss Bob.

The second your lips meet his, he’s fisting his hands in your hair and licking into your mouth, years of pent up longing expressing itself in the way the two of you were basically devouring each other.

Eventually, you had to pull back, your lungs protesting at the lack of adequate air, Bob chasing your lips, only to be pushed back by your hand that had crept up to grip his throat. Grinning, you take him in, puffy lips and flushed cheeks and disheveled hair from Jakes fingers, and you can’t resist another peck, which quickly turns into two, which then turns into another deep kiss.

Now the hand on his throat tightens just a smidge, a warning that you are still in charge here, and Bob pulls back, a groan escaping him as you reach down with your other hand to palm him.

As much as you would love to fuck him right here, you promised Jake a reward, and there is definitely a conversation that needs to be had before you can feel Bob slide home. When you glance at Jake, before bringing your gaze back to Bob, his eyes are filled with understanding, and something that looks suspiciously like love, and you feel tears springing to life in your eyes.

Turning your attention back to Jake, you find his gaze locked on where your hand is still palming Bob through his underwear, and you are snapped back into the present.

“How ya feelin Jakey?” You ask, watching as he is slow to look back up at you. When he does, he’s got a dopey smile on his face that makes you giggle.

“Good! Real good!” He slides out.

“Yeah, you think you can go again?” He nods frantically as you begin maneuvering him, pushing and pulling at his shoulders so that his back is pressed up against Bob.

Between Bobs hand job earlier, and your previous orgasm, your slick enough that you probably don’t need the lube, but Jake is big, and the last thing you want right now is to be sore. Especially when you know first hand how insatiable both your boys are once they get started. So you lube your hand up, bringing it down to Jakes cock, which is already half hard.

Once he’s properly slicked up, you begin dragging the tip up and down your slit, before Bob is sliding a hand down from where he had been playing with Jakes nipples. Your gaze snaps up from where your had been focused on Jake to Bob, seeing the question in his eyes. You nod, and Bob wraps a hand around Jake, guiding him to your hole, where you slowly sink down onto Jake.

Jake moans, and so do you. Jake hadn’t been the only one holding out for this, and he felt damn good stretching you out.

“She feel good?” Bob asks, whispering in Jakes ear before he nips at the tip of it. Jake nods again, his mouth half open as you continue to slide down on him.

“She’s so tight, isn’t she!” You watch as Bob shifts slightly, his other hand disappearing behind Jakes back. Jake tenses at the same time Bob speaks again.

“Bet you are to!” And even though you can’t see what’s happening, you can guess what Bobs doing based on the way that Jake thrusts up into you, which causes you to clench around him.

Bob chuckles at the way Jake is wiggling unable to decide which way he wants to go, backwards or forwards. “Be nice Bob!” You warn, sliding your hands up Jakes chest for better balance.

“I’m always nice!” You scoff at him, but return your focus to Jake, shifting your weight which has him hitting that spot just right. Now it’s your turn to moan, balance faltering just a little bit as the pleasure increases. Below you, Jake is a mess, absolutely destroyed by all the attention he’s getting between the two of you, and you can tell he’s already close.

Leaning down you press a kiss to the sensitive spot on his neck before whispering in his ear, “You can cum anytime!”

He whines, shaking his head. “Need… please!”

“What do you need baby?” You ask, as he jerks below you again. “Need you to cum first. Wanna watch!”

“How sweet!” Bob mocks behind him, and you glare at him before returning your attention to Jake, who didn’t even seem to hear him. Ducking down, you kiss him, tongue darting into his open mouth as he pants.

You can feel Bob shifting again, and a hand is snaking in between you and Jake, before there are fingers on your clit, rubbing tight controlled circles. It’s enough to have you shattering around Jake, clenching tight around him as your toes curl and your vision goes white.

Distantly, you feel Jake speed up as warmth spreads inside of you, before he’s slowing down, but the fingers on your clit don’t stop until you have completely come down from your orgasm and you’re whining at Bob that it’s to much.

The first thing you see when you open your eyes is Bob sucking hickeys onto Jakes neck, and you know that he’s going to complain about them tomorrow, but he will do nothing to hide them, and will not so secretly stare at them in any reflective surface he can find.

A content smile spreads over your face as you look at your boys, and you just know, everything is going to be alright.

#top gun threesomeissance 2023 #top gun maverick #Jake Seresin Smut #Jake Hangman seresin #Jake Hangman Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #Hangman x reader smut #Hangman x reader x bob #Bob Floyd #Bob Floyd Smut #Bob Floyd x reader smut

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melisshivering · 3 months

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Yone Skins Scent Headcanons

A/N: Random little scents I think each Yone would have because I'm OBBESSED :DD

Base Skin:

I don't think he has a particular scent, nothing too distinct. Traveling around while hunting demons makes me think he tries to keep himself hidden, any possible way. He may have a scent specifically due to the azakana mask he adorns if there was to be a scent at all.

Spirit Blossom:

”AND WHY DOES IT SMELL LIKE JAPANESE CHERRY BLOSSOMS.” Is it too on the nose to say he smells like flowers? It's a calm and light smell. The kind of scent that if you smell it somewhere else you begin to feel warm inside at the thought of moments shared with Yone.

Battle Academia:

He’s a pretty introverted guy in a campus of fighters. If you manage to get to talk to him for a moment you are pleasantly surprised with smells of vanilla. It’s rich and feels unfitting for him as an assassin to be smelling so good.

Dawnbringer:

It's difficult to fit it into a signature scent. Instead of something that would clash together it works miraculously. Almost too well. A weird mix of sweet and bourbon. Conflicting similar to his heritage but somehow works hand and similar to himself.

Ocean Song:

Kinda hard to say he won't smell like the ocean but he also smells sweet. Whether it's a citrus sweet from the sheer amount of fruit around the parties he will be performing for or sweet of the flowers and other pretty foliage that decorates the venues. He just smells refreshing.

Inkshadow:

An alluring oaky smell. Maybe a little smokey but not the regular kind smoke. The kind of woods used to infuse with foods that make things taste strangely sweet. It's something that makes you wonder if he should be smelling that good. He's very mysterious so the scent ends up fitting with him well.

HEARTSTEEL:

The other heartsteel boys always joke about Yone acting like a mom. I think it's a given he smells of fresh laundry. And sometimes you can also get a hint of the natural scented shampoo he uses on his hair. Yone does his best to take care of his hair because there is so much and he treats it with the utmost care.

Prestige HEARTSTEEL:

Honestly I feel like he would have some expensive or just really nice smelling cologne even if he isn't in the spotlight much. He would choose a scent that has pretty good reviews, something he's able to try in store. He wants to spend his money on something he himself enjoys as well as something others will enjoy.

High Noon:

The west isn't really stocked up with luxury items. I don't really think he would smell like much besides what would be his natural smell and alcohol. I don't think he would allow himself to smell so much like the devils he kills because he finds them filthy.

Peacemaker High Noon:

There isn't much of a change but he smells slightly more earthy. Most of his time is spent out making sure the wild west is a safe place for anyone to traverse without being put in harms way. Its definitely lighter and more refreshing than High Noon.

#league of legends headcanons #league of legends #league of legends x reader #yone #spirit blossom #battle academia #dawnbringers #ocean song #inkshadow #heartsteel #heartsteel yone #high noon #high noon yone

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froggibus · 1 year

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Valentine's Day HCs - Ashe, Brigitte, D.VA, Kiriko, Mercy, Widowmaker

Includes: Ashe, Brigitte, D.Va, Kiriko, Mercy and Widowmaker

Summary: what your OW gf would do for you for Valentine's day

CW: gn! reader, fluff, just some cutesy hcs of what your OW s/o would do for Valentine's, some allusion to the lore

pt2 of my valentine's day content for you guys! i was up til 3 trying to finish these but kinda gave up ngl and went to bed but i mostly finished up!

OW Men Ver. + Valentine's 2023 Masterlist

————

Ashe:

acts like she’s Too Cool™️ for Valentine’s Day

but on the inside she’s secretly making a big deal of it cause all she really wants is to make you happy and show how much she loves you!!

definitely gets Bob’s help to get everything and set it all up

she’s so nonchalant about it that you’re shocked when she shows up at your place with a bouquet of flowers

“get your jacket, I got somethin to show you.”

you reluctantly follow her out, pleasantly surprised that she came through for you

she takes you back to her place where her and Bob have practically completely redecorated

there’s sweet smelling candles lining every flat surface, rose petals across the floor and hearts hanging from the ceiling

waiting for the two of you at the coffee table are dishes of all your favorite snacks

she definitely had Bob make you chocolate covered strawberries

she feeds them to you too with this cute little blush across her cheeks and nose

also there’s champagne

fruity bubbly pink champagne that she seems to have endless bottles of

and when you’re all warm and giggly and drunk, cuddled up in her arms, she lets her tough exterior drop

“oh sweet pea, i think you’re gonna be the death of me”

Brig:

she’s so nervous!!!

like she really wants this to go good and show you how much she appreciates you, but she doesn’t really know how

probably makes the mistake of asking her dad and Reinhardt for advice

and after Reinhardt suggests “a really big hammer” she decides to go her own way with it

spends days tinkering in her workshop to make something for you

of course Mitzi is purring and rolling all over her tools while she’s trying to build

accidentally ignored you because she’s so caught up in her work

she finishes it just in time for Valentine’s Day

you plan on surprising her for Valentines so you’re surprised when she shows up with a little box for you

she’s practically vibrating while she waits for you to open it

when you do, you see it’s metal figurines of the two of you on your first date

the sheer amount of detail in it makes you gasp

there’s a plaque on the front that says “The Moment I Knew I Loved You”

you look up at her with big teary eyes and throw your arms around her

she hugs you super tightly

“so you like it, right? Cause I was worried it was too much or not enough and I just—I really wanted this to go good for us.”

DVA:

she’s such a dork she probably plans out this whole day for the two of you together

she’s kinda nervous taking you out in case she gets mobbed by paparazzi

but she really wants to show you a good time so she sets her fear aside

takes you to the shops downtown to get cute matching pyjamas for your sleepover tonight

you guys stop to get hotteoks for a snack too!!

they’re one of her favorite snacks so you treat her to one

then you guys head to the grocery store to pick up some snacks and drinks for the night

queue Hana stocking up on Mountain Dew (but she gets the Spark kind to fit into the Valentine’s Day theme)

you guys get home and build a little pillow and blanket Fort on the floor with all your snacks and stuff

Hana turns on her console and the two of you end up playing games together

definitely some sort of cutesy two player game where you guys can work as a team

and even if you make mistakes, Hana just kisses your cheek and carries you through

“so, how was this for Valentine’s Day? Did I win?”

Kiriko:

she is definitely the type to want to do something for Valentine’s

but gets so busy with work and crime fighting that she just forgets

so she plans a date for the two of you at the last minute

gets you a box of gourmet donuts from her favorite shop and heads over to your house on her bike

she was kinda nervous to ask you to be her Valentine cause she’s never really had one

plus she’s worried what she’s planned won’t be enough

but all of that melts away when she picks you up and sees your smile at the cute little fox donuts she gives you

she doesn’t let on what she has planned, but she has her bike waiting outside with an extra helmet for you

she actually takes you all the way across town to a karaoke/ramen bar!

they’re doing a Valentine’s Special for karaoke where its duets only, and it only takes a second of your girlfriend making puppy dog eyes at you to get you up on the stage

she surprises you by choosing one of your favorite duet songs and having near perfect choreography

her dancing and singing is just so fun and cute that it’s infectious and you start trying to dance with her

even if you stumble a bit she still thinks its adorable

also everyone in the restaurant loves you guys

after that, you guys have a few drinks and some yummy ramen before she surprises you with a promise ring

its just a simple silver band with a blue jewel (like the colour of her fox) engraved into it

“I know it’s not much…but I wanted you to always have a piece of me with you. I have the fox spirit to guide me, so I thought maybe you could have something to guide you.”

Mercy:

she’s a busy, busy woman, but she’ll fight to have time off so she can spend it with you

very traditional as far as her dates go, but that doesn’t mean boring by any means

she’s super organized too, so she’ll plan everything ahead of time to make sure it all goes off without a hitch

definitely splurges and gets you a box of super yummy Swiss chocolates

I feel like she would definitely get you some sort of jewellery too, like a necklace with wings or something

she has a dinner reservation at a super romantic, intimate restaurant

she leaves you a cute little gift bag on your bed for when you get home, and its just a super nice outfit for you to wear out

you’re super excited for what she has planned, and that only gets better when she comes to pick you up

she’s wearing a silky black slip dress and heals, dressed to the absolute nines

honestly she looks good enough to eat

you guys take a cab to the restaurant so you can thoroughly enjoy it and actually drink

Angela picks out a delicious red wine for the two of you to share over dinner

she definitely holds your hand across the table and runs her thumbs over them

the food is amazing and you guys have just a little too much wine over dinner

Angela holds her alcohol well though and manages to tough it out until you get home

she wanted to surprise you with gifts, but didn’t want to do it in public so she could actually enjoy your reaction to them

probably the one night of the year she lets herself get a little more kinky in bed too lol

“How was it, darling? I wanted to give you a date you deserve.”

Widowmaker:

she hasn’t celebrated a single Valentine’s Day since before Gerard died

he was the only person she ever had any desire to celebrate with, and because of what Talon did to her, she never had a chance again

until she meets you of course

she probably doesn’t celebrate it with you until you’ve been together for a while either

but when she’s ready, she wants to go all out

she makes reservations at the best restaurant in France (and spares no expense)

she picks you up in a limo, the back filled with candy hearts and kisses, with a fridge stocked with rosé and champagne

she pours you a glass when you get in, her eyes taking you in

“you look stunning, my love.”

by the time you get to the restaurant, you’re a little tipsy and completely flustered

she orders for you, getting you her favorite dish (and it’s quite possibly the most delicious thing you’ve had in your whole life)

she definitely splits dessert with you too

she feeds you little spoonfuls

takes you back to her place for the night and shows you her favorite movie as a girl

“thank you for tonight, mon amour. you are the warmth of my life.”

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #overwatch headcanons #kiriko kamori #ashe x reader #widowmaker x reader #mercy x reader #kiriko x reader #brigitte x reader #dva x reader

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instructionsnotincluded · 3 months

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The sheer amount of knowledge and skill the ATA girls had to have to qualify on all their aircraft is insane. They’d have to know how the different planes and engines operated to be able to fly them optimally. SO MUCH KNOWLEDGE.

I want Frank to absolutely verbally destroy someone with her brainpower and understanding of aeronautical engineering, plane design, piloting, and sheer badassery in the Officer’s Lounge one night.

She’s dressed to the nines, with stockings, and bloodlessly eviscerates someone.

Bucky just is there, holding her metaphorical flower, getting more and more turned on, telling Buck to watch his goddess in action. Isn’t she the tops? Literal heart eyes.

She rises in Harding’s esteem. He still knows too much about her and Bucky.

OMG this has to happen!! Now I have to do enough research so Frank can absolutely crush the cadet who tries to square up with her.

Bucky’s so proud, and hot, and he just needs to get her alone now after he tells everyone around him that he’s her Major. “She picked me, can you believe it?”

#mota-chats

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lemonxdaisybby · 2 months

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Hello! The lingerie headcanons for the judgment bois was so good. Can I maybe ask for lingerie headcanons for Ichiban, Zhao, Sawashiro, Yamai and Eiji? hope that’s not too many to ask for!

Helloooo! Ofc you can! Also there’s no limit either to how many people you wanna add to a request 💕 Altho if I did get an ask for say, 20 characters or so in one go, I may cry a little

I can do Yamai as I’ve progressed enough with Infinite Wealth to feel comfortable writing for him. However, I have left Eiji out for now, only becauseeee I’m just over halfway through the game (I keep getting distracted by Dondoko Island because I love it) so I’m not 100% confident or sure on how to write his character yet. I’m so sorry.

I’ll probs make a post once I’ve finished IW so people can request for any of those characters going forward. 💕

Also thank you for the request, and I hope you like!

S/O surprising them w lingerie ✨

Ichiban:

Ichi’s brain is going to straight up stop working, and his face would just heat up immediately. He would momentarily be broken.

As soon as he comes home and sees you dressed in pretty lingerie for him, he is gonna freeze. His eyes would be comically wide, and his mouth would be opening and closing as if he’s trying to say something, but no noise would be coming out. You’d probably have to approach him and ask him if he likes it, to break him out of his daze.

He’d just become putty in your hands, nodding yes to your question, not quite trusting himself to speak, because honestly? He has no idea what is going to come blurting out his mouth.

It would probably be best if you just lead him to the bedroom at this point. Grab his hand, and he’ll eagerly follow you.

Ichi is a bottom anyways, but somehow this will be amplified when you wear lingerie. He will just be in awe of you, his gaze locked on to your body, and his hands roaming every inch of you.

He doesn’t really have a preference for lingerie, and thinks all of it is pretty. He might prefer cuter lingerie, so babydolls with pretty, floaty, sheer material, and would also appreciate cute lil bow or flower charms/decor. Pretty, sexy, fairy vibes almost. He is also a boob man, so would appreciate an outfit that really gives him a good view of your tits.

Zhao:

Zhao would be so turned on, and would be internally wondering what he did to deserve such an amazing partner.

As soon as he spots you in your lingerie, it’s game on. He’d get that sly glint in his eyes, and would be looking at you as though he’s about to eat you up. He’d try and play coy, asking ‘Is this for me? You shouldn’t have’, except he is already circling you, taking a good look at every inch of your body in your little outfit. He would stop behind you, hands gripping your hips and pulling you back towards him, so that your back is pressed tightly against his chest. He’d be leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and….how is he suddenly the one seducing you!?

Lingerie would definitely release some sort of animalistic urge in him, and Zhao will not stop fucking you until you’re screaming his name.

He is an ass man, so would appreciate a lacy thong, paired with a skimpy matching bra, suspender belt, and strappy little garters, as opposed to stockings. The bra would definitely be coming off, but bonus points if the thong is crotchless, so that he can leave it on whilst he fucks you, along with your other accessories.

Sawashiro:

Loooord, this is gonna drive him crazy.

As soon as Jo comes home and spots you waiting for him, all dressed up in lingerie, he will fall deadly silent. At first, you might get the impression you’ve done something wrong, as his face would be expressionless, and he wouldn’t utter a single noise. However, his gaze will start trailing up and down your body, his eyes darkening, and he’ll be giving you the most intense eye fucking you have ever received. His gaze would be so heated.

He’d take his time as he walks on over to you, his eyes never once leaving you. He’d call you a dirty little tease, shrugging off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves so he can roll them up his forearms.

He’s gonna take you there and then. If you’re in the hallway of your home, he’s gonna turn you around, and press your front to the wall as he slams in to you from behind. If you’re in the lounge/living room, you’re getting dicked down on the sofa. Waiting for him in the bedroom? You’re getting shoved down on to the bed and he will be on you in an instant. Lingerie would rile this man up so much, and the fact you’ve been patiently waiting for him to return home? He’s not gonna disappoint.

Jo would usually prefer you completely naked, but the sight of you topless, in nothing but a lacy thong and some thigh-high tights/stockings? Man will go feral.

Yamai:

Yamai and his goddamn poker face. He is gonna walk in, catch sight of you waiting for him, looking all seductive, and he will just pause, his eyes raking over you. In that slow, lazy drawl of his, he’s gonna say something along the lines of ‘well shit, if I’d known this was waiting for me, I would’ve come home earlier’. His eyes would just be glowering at you, and he’d look as though he’s about ready to devour you.

Always the one in control of situations, even surprises. He’d go and sit himself down on the sofa, patting his thigh expectantly, a clear sign that he wants you to go and straddle him. His hands would be on you in an instant, once you’re sat astride him, his fingers digging in to your hips tightly. He would try to be gentle because he loves you and is secretly a softie for you, but he definitely can get a bit rough with you, and lingerie would only spur him on. He’d have you ride him, but he would still be in control, his grip never loosening. He’s got a sharp tongue too, and will call you a good little whore, for dressing up for him and waiting so patiently for him to return home.

Yamai would likely appreciate corsets, and the way they accentuate your curves and push up your breasts would drive him insane. He’d also find a lacy, tight basque sexy, along with matching stockings. Anything tight fitting is a yes from him.

#ryu ga gotoku #yakuza like a dragon #yakuza like a dragon headcanons #yakuza headcanons #tianyou zhao #ichiban kasuga #sawashiro jo #jo sawashiro #zhao tianyou #yutaka yamai

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sleepingdeath-light · 9 months

Text

yandere hcs + fem s/o ; affogato cookie

requested by ; anonymous (07/09/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; affogato cookie

outline ; “Hellooo I wanted to request a yandere affogato cookie from cookie run oneshot or hc whichever you feel like doing ^^ with female s/o”

warning(s) ; yandere!affogato cookie, stalking, manipulation, emotional manipulation, kidnapping, brainwashing

as far as yanderes go, affogato cookie is absolutely terrifying because of the sheer influence he has — once you’re in his grasp in the cacao kingdom there’s basically no chance of you escaping because he has more than enough loyal followers to track your every move, to watch you in his absence, and to hunt you down if you ever manage to slip through his fingers somehow

he stalked you for months before taking you — making use of his following to ensure you had eyes on you at all times whilst maintaining his own perfect alibi in the palace, studying your schedule and observing even the smallest parts of your day (collecting all of the information gotten by himself and those beneath him to gain a more comprehensive understanding of your person: likes, dislikes, body language, habits, the language you use, every little quirk, etc.)

then once he had enough information (more than enough, even), affogato cookie finally approached you — making good use of his charismatic persona and natural charm to flirt and flatter you into agreeing to go out on a date with him (a date that he’d already planned out to the last detail in order to ensure that it all went perfectly)

he spent months wooing you, taking it as slow as possible and gradually ramping up the intensity of what he was doing — flowers, cards, your favourite foods, spontaneous dates, showing up at the same places by accident, spending weekends at your home, etc. — which meant that the two of you had a very normal relationship for a while, with you never suspecting a thing and only ever believing him to be your devoted, loving boyfriend (rather than the manipulative stalker that he truly was)

he tries to be patient, he really does, but eventually something snaps and he decides that he’s waited enough and he just needs to have you — that’s what leads to him inviting you to his home for the first time, where he greeted you with a kiss and gave you a steaming cup of your favourite hot drink and hung your coat up for you, where after only three sips you started to feel woozy and he, ever the gentleman, took the cup and lead you upstairs so that you could ‘sleep off’ whatever was happening in his bed

and that was the last time anyone other than him or his followers saw you alive — as far as outsiders were concerned you’d decided to move back home after feeling homesick (your handwriting was easy enough for him to forge after you’d sent him so many lovely letters, and with his influence it wasn’t hard to lie about your whereabouts when asked — feigning heartbreak as he described how you’d ‘abandoned’ him overnight after spending ‘weeks’ talking about how much you ‘missed everyone back home’, how he wasn’t surprised but it still deeply hurt him to lose you so soon)

from that point onwards you never have a moment to yourself and are constantly being observed by him and his followers — with them accompanying you around the home, guarding the exit to the room you’re in, and even monitoring what you eat/drink to ensure that you’re getting everything you need to survive whilst under their care (they don’t speak to you beyond the bare minimum to stop you from going mad, like asking if you’re hungry/thirsty and telling you when affogato cookie will get home — but most of your socialising and company will come from your ‘lover’ as he doesn’t like sharing and wants you to be totally reliant on him for all of your needs)

that being said he doesn’t leave you completely alone with your thoughts: stocking his bookshelves with your favourite novels, keeping the materials you need for your hobbies at hand at all times (whilst monitoring you just in case), and just generally giving you the things you need to keep yourself entertained — he does still care for you, in his own twisted way, and he actually wants you to like him so he tries to not do too much that could lead to you hating him

but if you keep on defying him, if you keep on fighting him, then he’ll be forced to take on some more underhanded and immoral tactics to keep you under his thumb — completely isolating you, practically starving you, only letting you interact with him for months and doing whatever he can to break you down (even brainwashing and manipulating you in the same way he does his followers — it’s his last resort but at least he knows it will work)

he even makes sure that his followers guilt you into staying, into listening and obeying, on his behalf by highlighting all of the good he’s done for you — by the time he’s done you’ll be the one apologising for being so cold and cruel to him and, of course, he’ll forgive you for it because he loves you so very much

you will love him, whether you want to or not

#sleepingdeath #female reader #yandere x reader #yandere hcs #yandere crk #yandere cookie run #yandere crk x reader #yandere cookie run x reader #yandere affogato cookie #yandere affogato cookie x reader #affogato cookie x reader #cookie run x reader #crk x reader

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keithsandwich · 9 months

Text

Memory

Mature

Pairing: Keith x MC (Emma)

Word Count: ~730

Warnings: Marking, Suggestive Content, Lingerie.

Note: Written for the Kinktober event Visions of Temptation 2023, hosted by @xxsycamore.

Day 2 - Biting/Marking

Thank you so much @nightghoul381 for proofreading ♡

Dainty hands rolled up the sheer, delicate fabric of the stockings up her thighs. It partially covered the purplish marks he had left on her skin last night. Keith let out a little disappointed sigh.

It wasn't that he didn't understand him. Emma was simply irresistible, making it hard to contain his most visceral desires, too. Her sweet scent lured his mind to endless fields of sinful thoughts, and the slightest touch of her skin felt like paradise. Something he had never even dreamed of having to himself, and now that he had experienced it, his body desperately craved it.

Emma rendered him famished with a hunger befitting a lifetime of starvation. It was a herculean task not to devour her whole.

Keith fought this urge with everything he had, however. For her love was his precious paradise flower, more fragile than those silk stockings she was so gently putting on, and he feared the violent raptures of his needs could tear it apart.

He didn't want to hurt her, but this worry didn't reach him. He was so careless with her…

Emma turned over, her surprise at seeing him standing there while she dressed only lasting a fraction of a second. Her beautiful lips curled up with a most sincere smile. Careless, too, as if the marks on her skin didn't bother her at all. Each little casual step she took towards him contradicted his fears.

She wasn't hurt.

She wasn't scared of him.

She didn't mind what happened last night.

Keith shuddered for many reasons when Emma's feet arched up so her arms could envelope him in her warmth. She had only a rosy lingerie on, and her uncovered skin pressed against his body. His eyes darted away. His hands hovered over her, not quite touching. There was an overwhelming longing to pull her even closer, to kiss her lips and take her to bed again so he could love her, over and over. But there was also an overwhelming guilt for his actions. And the ever present fright of repeating them himself.

"What's wrong?" Emma sought his stare with worried eyes. The same hands that softly handled the stockings now touched his face with infinite tenderness.

It was hard to resist, but it was harder not to look back at her and open up his heart to the woman he loved. "I'm sorry, I-" Keith quietly brushed his fingers against a mark on the crook of her neck, under the shadow of her hair, but still showing on a closer inspection. "He wasn't gentle with you last night…"

"Ah, this?" Emma covered that portion of her skin with her hand. Her cheeks were now red and her smile was wider than before. Keith realized that she wasn't hiding the mark, but feeling it.

"I like it, actually," admitting out loud made her giggle bashfully. "It makes me feel… Desired."

His brows furrowed with confusion. How come something so inconsiderate makes her feel like this? "Do you want me to show you?" She offered, as if sensing his conflicted thoughts, and Keith couldn't help but nod in agreement.

Emma kissed him, her hands burying into his hair and slowly losing their softness. As the kiss deepened, so did the passion with which she pulled him against her, and reacting in the same intensity became irresistible. Tongues waltzed together to the sultry sound of their moans. Keith pressed her waist so tightly she gasped. Their eyes met. She licked her lips and placed moist pecks on his neck. His mind was lost in that dreamy estate, of perfect flowers blooming just for them.

Keith was so inebriated in lust it didn't hurt at all when her small mouth suckled on his skin. He held his breath, the warm and tingling sensation sending shivers down his spine.

By the time he gathered himself to open his eyes, Emma was attentively looking at that spot on his neck that was between her lips until seconds ago, her eyes shining somewhat proud of her doing.

"See? This moment will be in your skin now for a while. Hope you'll remember it whenever you see it…"

She lovingly caressed the mark she left on him with her thumb. Keith chuckled softly. She was right.

The memory of the love they shared that morning would linger, and the silk stockings remained intact even during their passionate lovemaking.

#visions of temptation 2023 #keith howell #ikepri #ikemen prince #keith x mc #keith x emma #mdni #fanfic

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cleromancy · 5 months

Note

HI I WOULD LOVE TO SEE SNIPPETS OF THE EX CHILD STAR AU

thank you anon 🥰 sry it took me a few days to post this lol

cws: references to mental health problems and a previous suicide attempt, and lasting trauma from exploitation. uh, and past drug use.

If you had asked Dick twenty-four hours ago about his apartment, he would have said it was fine. Not too modest, not too ostentatious, not so public he has to worry about creeps but not as isolated as the villa. He's so glad they sold the villa. Nicest place he's ever lived, and if he'd stayed there one more day he'd have been peeling off the wallpaper muttering about ex-child stars trapped inside, creeping. Where he lives now is within walking distance from a friendly little corner store where he picks up cereal and almond milk and anything else he doesn't want to wait to get delivered, which is convenient, and a somewhat-longer-but-still-doable hike away from Dick's favorite store in L.A, a tiny little candy shop that only stays afloat out of sheer spite. The owner, a cantankerous old man that Dick loved immediately upon meeting, roasts Dick mercilessly every time Dick comes in, but he also keeps Dick's standing order of the tragically discontinued Triple Xtreme Face Pucker Nuclear Warheads in stock just for him, so Dick wouldn't buy them anywhere else even if he could.

And as long as you have that and a laundry room, you're golden. If Dick had to leave his apartment to wash his socks he'd just lie down and die, or else wear a lot of dirty clothes.

So normally if asked, Dick would conclude that the apartment is, actually, better than fine, maybe even pretty good, and then he would change the subject.

It's just hitting Dick now that he's lived here for seven years now and he doesn't think he's ever actually looked around. They hired somebody to move his stuff into storage while Dick was still in inpatient and somebody else to decorate the apartment so it would be livable right when he got out, before he got around to picking up his stuff (he keeps meaning to do that). Moving in, all Dick cared about was getting a burrito the size of his face and sleeping on sheets that didn't smell faintly of industrial bleach masked poorly by something artificial, vaguely floral, and marketed as *Mountain Breeze.* In the grey haze it hadn't occurred to him to wonder if maybe the decor was itself a little too grey.

"Or whatever color they call this," Dick says to himself, staring down an oversized decorative vase with a few sticks poking out that you'd think would be silk flowers or something, but instead have these fuzzy little puffballs attached for some reason. "Gray-beige? Taupe? Greige? Why do I even have you." He tilts it to one side. It's shockingly heavy. "Why do I have *six of you.*"

Looking down the hallway it's obvious that the interior design team had a vision, and that vision was "innoffensive, featureless neutrality." There are just enough wall hangings to qualify as "minimalist" over "austere," black and white photographs of bland still lifes in featureless frames. Some kind of hanging tapestry except it's solid white with hanging tassels. Grey-toned floor, lighter grey-toned floor runner. The end result sails right past "boring" into "escaped psych ward patient" territory. Which Dick resents. He did his time, thank you very much, and waited until his official discharge like a good boy. That's probably why he didn't notice until now, psych ward home away from psych ward home.

Yeah. Let's blame that. The fact that he spent his first year out of the hospital doing nothing but trying to beat his Tetris high score in his underwear and scouring the internet trying to find the tragically discontinued Triple Xtreme Face Pucker Nuclear Warheads had nothing to do with it.

"He's going to think I'm a serial killer," Dick realizes.

He's most of the way through Tetrising the unwieldy, surpringly heavy vases into the tiny cubicle the guest bathroom calls a shower—and he'd like to know whose idea *that* was when anyone with a lick of sense would have just made it a half-bath—when the buzzer for the lobby goes off.

"Crap," Dick mutters, taking half a step away from the tower, which wobbles ominously. He lunges to steady it. "Crap!"

He casts around for a surface and sets the last two vases on the toilet lid and the sink respectively, the stupid little Q-tip stick things rattling mockingly inside, then dashes out to tell the doorman that no, Roy's not a stalker, yes really, yes Dick wants you to let him up please, yes he is serious, yes he is sure. He has enough time to sprint back to the bathroom and make sure his hair is okay and confirm that at least he doesn't *look* as sweaty and disheveled as he *feels,* but thankfully not enough time to start worrying if he might be due early for another round of fillers or if his hairline might be receding or if the skin under his jaw might be sagging. He looks fine. Everything's fine.

When the doorbell rings, Dick has to pretend he doesn't know who's on the other side to get himself to finally open the door. His breath still catches when he sees him.

Roy, casual as ever, pushing a pair of Ray-Bans he told Dick he shoplifted as a teenager up his forehead. His crow's feet, because he stopped getting fillers at twenty-five, except *his* are laugh lines, not stress wrinkles, less those *Where Are They Now?* specials they used to do on VH1, more Paul Newman aging like fine wine. His crooked smile, and he doesn't whiten his teeth anymore either, teased Dick when he drove him for his root canal that he was destroying his enamel and then held his hand when they put him under. His scuffed bomber jacket, older than either of them, which sparked half a dozen anecdotes about an Uncle Hal when Dick brushed his fingers against a faded patch on the sleeve. His henley with three buttons undone, straining over the curve of his chest. His jeans tight around the thighs, a little threadbare in places after over a decade of wear. The whole of him, broad and easy in the doorway, unapologetically imperfect, smiling.

Dick just wants this to go well so *badly.* "Hi."

"Hi yourself," Roy says, shifting a little. "Can I come in?"

"Please."

Roy closes the door behind him, bending to unlace his boots. Dick's eyes catch for a second on the strain of his thighs against denim, and the nervous inane smalltalk on its way out of Dick's mouth dies on his lips.

Roy kicks the second boot off and straightens up, dusting his palms off on his thighs, which probably shouldn't make Dick's mouth fill with saliva the way it does. He's looking around the entryway, curious. "Nice place."

*Don't mention the vases.* "You think so? I keep meaning to update a little."

"Yeah, man, it's nice," Roy says easily, and he's lying but Dick can barely tell, which is kind of him. "You want to show me around?"

No, Dick does not want to show him around. No, he does not want to discover alongside Roy what other modern minimalist nightmares the interior design team saw fit to install in case Dick got too overstimulated by non-neutral colors and tried to kill himself again.

"I want to show you the media room," Dick says, which at least has the benefit of actually being true.

The "whoa" Roy lets out when they enter the media room is gratifying. It's most people's reaction when they see it. It's always gratifying.

"Is that a pinball machine?" Roy asks.

Dick grins. "You wanna play?"

"Hell yeah, just. Later. You have so much cool shit here, show me all of it—"

Maybe the other reason Dick barely knows what the rest of his apartment looks like is because this is where he spends most of his time. Freshly discharged from the hospital, Dick had scarfed down his face-sized burrito, faceplanted on the bed, slept like a log for about two days straight and woken up not entirely sure what year it was or why. He looked around the room, remembered it was his, flicked on the lamp on his bedside table and didn't like it any better in the light. It was the smooth plasticine decor that Dick's belatedly come to realize populated the entire apartment, featureless, meaningless, trying desperately to be mature by being entirely devoid of interest. *My bedroom pays taxes,* Dick remembers thinking. *My bedroom has a 401k.* He grabbed his meds from his bedside table and stuffed them in his sweatpants pocket before wrapping himself in the big gray down comforter and dragging it to what he supposed was the den, flopping on the couch and sleeping for another six hours, eventually waking with the cap of PRAZOSIN - 10MG - GRAYSON, RICHARD J digging into his hip.

Time was sort of soupy a lot of the time back before he got his ADHD diagnosis, because of the brain fog. For the longest time his psychiatrists kept adjusting his Wellbutrin dose pretending they thought that had a chance in hell of working while Dick sat listlessly in their offices, missing meth. It wasn't until later when Jason Todd of all people dragged him to a specialist (because "if I have it, you definitely have it" successfully nettled Dick into going just to prove him wrong, except of course it turned out the bastard was right) and Dick found a new psychiatrist who was halfway competent and put him on Adderall that he really felt at all present again. The psychiatrist he has now, who is from hell and who doesn't let him get away with lying and who is incredibly good at her job, was the one who told him how much meth and ADHD stimulants have in common chemically.

Dick sat very still. Then he pointed to the throw cushion on the couch. "Can I borrow that for just a sec?"

"Take as long as you need."

Dick grabbed the pillow, buried his face in it, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

But for a while, yeah. Time was soup Dick was mostly afloat in. He spent it floating here.

Now that Dick is looking for it, he notices the gray in the floor and the walls, the aggressive featurelessness of even the window frames, but he likes the rest of the room enough not to mind. At one point he'd been irrationally angry at the pile of mail he'd put off opening for over a month, and he'd been going through a minor fixation with auction websites at the time, and there was an old, probably busted Ms Pac Man arcade machine up for sale and for some reason Dick latched onto it. For some reason winning the auction of the stupid Ms Pac Man machine was very briefly the most important thing in the world. And he did win the auction, because nobody else wanted the janky old thing, and to Dick's shock and delight it actually *worked*, and suddenly he had a project.

At first he bought and fixed up old arcade fixtures, classic games and pinball machines mostly but he dabbled in anything; he'd even gotten his hands on an air hockey table once. Then he'd get bored or run out of space, sell a bunch of things or even give them away if he was too sick of looking at them, and before terribly long he drifted away from arcades specifically. That part he credits to a film projector he ran into at a flea market and fell in love with, which prompted him to spend possibly obscene amounts of money on the sound system and improving the acoustics. He fell in love with a lot of objects, those days, maybe because he wasn't talking to *people* much. Not people who knew him well, anyway. He was on first name terms with his favorite antique dealers, one of whom inexplicably set aside an old Gibson electric guitar he found, a gorgeous machine in a charmingly 60s shade of Robin's egg blue, because he said it reminded him of Dick. Either because he somehow knew Dick would love it, or else because he knew Dick was a sucker with way too much money.

It didn't matter. Dick *did* love it, and he *is* a sucker with way too much money, and he *did* go straight home to almost give himself tinnitus playing every three-chord classic he knew at a truly unwise volume.

(Dick even replaced the original couch in this room because he kept falling asleep on it and his physical therapist threatened to quit over the havoc he was wreaking on his back. He's still not thrilled that he doesn't really sleep in bed ever, but the new couch isn't threatening to do permanent damage to his spine. Win/win in Dick's book.)

So. Not a home arcade, not a home theater, not a home studio. Scavenged bits and salvaged pieces, nostalgia probably in excess, anchors in time. Whatever magic they put in the air at antique stores and estate sales and really good museum exhibits, Dick managed to bottle a breath of it and take it home with him. When he finally started letting people into his life again, the unabashed delight often on their faces, walking into this room full of outdated obsolete frivolous things, sharing it with them… it's good. It feels good.

"Does that ancient popcorn machine actually work?" Roy asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning.

Dick matches it. "Yeah, and it's gonna knock your socks off."

So Dick gets the popcorn going and shows Roy around and silently laments that there was no way he could get his hands on film reels of The Muppet Show. Roy was almost as much of a geek about some of these machines as Dick was, and Dick had made it his whole personality for a while.

"It's just that there are some antique collectors that really don't mess around," Dick explained to Donna the week before, twisting and untwisting his napkin in his hands. "And I'm a competitive guy but some of the markets are totally cutthroat, and film people and puppet people are both intense. So this was better."

"Yeah, *and* it'd be insane to drop that kind of money on a first date," said Jason through a mouthful of bacon cheeseburger, Mister *we're not brothers we just played them on TV.* Dick had invited Donna to lunch, Jason had loudly said he was too busy to come, Dick said he wasn't invited, and Jason's schedule suddenly cleared up, *viola,* miracles do happen.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Dick told him.

"Die," Jason suggested pleasantly.

'Just played it on TV.' Sure.

"And it's not a date," Dick added belatedly, stomach swooping.

Jason had opened his mouth to probably say something horrible, as is his way, and instead let out a hilarious squeak, turning to Donna next to him in the booth with massive betrayed Bambi eyes.

She ignored him, continuing to pour Sweet-N-Low packets into her half-empty coffee as if she didn't just stomp on his foot under the table. She didn't really like coffee until it got to the consistency of artificially sweetened sludge. When they were young Donna was always on top of what was *in*, considering it part of her full-time job to appear effortlessly sophisticated; she skipped the teen-preteen fashion beat and shot straight to the big leagues by fifteen. They were putting the equivalent of a *sophomore in high school* on best dressed lists alongside grown-ass women. It should never have happened. No one should have *let* it happen. One time even before all that, Dick and Jason stole a box of Krispy Kreme donuts from catering and absconded to her trailer to share and she had a panic attack. Years later she described her youth as being in a room full of invisible mirrors at all times. Those days she wouldn't be caught dead with anything less chic than an espresso from whatever new *it* cafe just opened. And there she was, two decades later, blithely desecrating two-dollar-fifty diner coffee with enough aspartame to kill a cart horse in front of god and everyone. She was probably Dick's favorite person in the entire world, and he went into a little trance for a moment, watching her graceful hands with horrified fascination.

Finally satisfied, she took a sip of her monstrosity and hummed, satisfied with that which she hath wrought. "Wait and see," she suggested. "If it goes well, it can be a date."

"And everyone says *I'm* the crazy one," Jason griped, rubbing the prison stick-n-poke tattoo on one thumb with the other.

"Well, if everyone says it, it must be true," Donna said warmly, knocking her shoulder against Jason's.

#dc #roydick #dick and jason #dick and donna #ex child star au #dick grayson

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