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atrwriting · 10 months

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kisses and other sweet things — billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

ok… i couldn’t help myself lol

also side note i don’t remember what scene this gif was from but i feel like his turned on look and look of disgust/confusion is the same — like if i hadn’t watched the show i’d be like “did he just see a pretty girl walk in?? or did someone just threaten him?? both??? hopefully both???”

but like also if he looked at me like that…,,,… melting. on the spot.

as always, warnings: smuuuuut, dom!billy, brat!reader, i don’t know if you can call it non-con but just to be safe im going to put that, p in v sex, oral, spitting in mouth (yeah i went there sue me), tears, biting, cums inside of reader (they didn’t have condoms in his time but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them!!!!)

also don’t sue me i don’t know if they had running water (sinks, baths, etc) but also the real billy the kid didn’t look this fine so we’re making it up as we go and going with the flow

ENOUGH TALK — here’s kisses and other sweet things…

you had been working with a crew for some time now, and as you all struggled to keep a cash flow — you had to turn to other things.

like joining forces with another crew.

the idea of joining a crew wasn’t what unsettled you — what unsettled you was being the only woman with a gun with even more men.

it’s just for one job, y’all, they had said. just this one.

one job turned into two. then that turned into three. four, five, six — and suddenly you knew everyone’s back story, drink of choice, and their type when it came to women of the night.

your first crew never asked how you felt, but you also never told them. they were all — including you — in it for the money. at the end of the day, it was all about what you had in your pockets. there was no time for quelling the simple worries, like they’d call the ones in your head.

at the end of the day — you had been doing this a long time. you had taken care of yourself up until this point, and you would continue to do so. didn’t matter who you were working with — you’d get it done.

after a day of success, everyone wanted to blow off steam. you all had found a boarding house for the night where the alcohol ran deep and there was two or three pretty women for each cattle rustler in your large group. you stayed behind a bit to drink with them, but once they started eyeing the women — you knew it was time to go.

sleeping with any of the men you worked with was also a bad idea. you couldn’t afford them seeing you as anything less than someone quick with a draw — and you worried a night of meaningless sex would ruin that.

you would never take the chance.

“have your fun, boys,” you chuckled. “you deserve it.”

“won’t stay a little longer, sweetheart?” your leader asked as a girl licked at his neck.

“another time — bath’s calling my name.”

a few pleasantries were thrown over shoulders, and you returned them. you made your quick escape up the stairway and into the shared washroom between three or four bedrooms. you knew your party had rented those rooms for the evening, so you were very excited to be able to have the bath to yourself for a little bit longer than usual.

you filled the tub with scalding hot water. the steam from the water and the whisky in your stomach made you hazy, but you welcomed it. who knew when you’d have until you had this sort of luxury or privacy again — you weren’t going to waste the chance.

the bath was quite large — fit for two or three people. you stayed on one edge as you washed your dirty skin. you were about to relax against the back when the doorknob began to turn.

you immediately snatched your gun and pointed it at the door.

“shit — sorry.”

it was the bonney kid.

he was holding a towel in his hand and was naked from the waist up. a scared look on his face was present as he tried to avert his eyes.

you put down the gun and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his next move.

“just came to wash up,” he spoke.

you knew he couldn’t see anything from where he stood, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to see below the water’s surface with the bubbles. you could tell him to fuck off — but being mean to some of these assholes sometimes proved to be worse than just swallowing your pride and being nice. you didn’t know billy very well — and you weren’t about to find out while you were naked if he was an asshole or not.

“i’m going to be a bit,” you spoke. “i don’t mind if you come in.”

he looked at you uneasily before nodded curtly, lips parting. you closed your eyes and leaned back against the tub, letting your eyes drift closed. you heard the water running and the sound of soap being scrubbed onto skin, and felt better. the next sound you heard was a razor being pulled out and your eye drifted open.

he was shaving.

he kept his gaze on himself in the mirror as he spoke. “surprised the kid can shave?”

you smiled. “never thought you were a kid from how you were with a gun.”

that made him smile. “never seen a women like you with a gun before.”

you hummed in response, not exactly sure how to respond.

“come up here to escape?”

that made you laugh. you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on his reflection in the mirror. his eyes were trained on his skin as he let the blade slide down his neck and pull up loose hairs. your mind was hazy with drink and heat, which made you forget to respond.

“some people would say it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

you laughed at that — he had you there.

“and some people would say it’s rude to intrude on a woman’s bath,” you countered.

he smiled, but kept his eyes off you. you’d like to think it was out of respect. “…and would you?”

“not with you,” you offered. “you’re the only one who hasn’t tried to make a pass at me.”

“not hard to believe,” he spoke. “downstairs they’ve got a running bet to see who will be the first with you.”

you scoffed. “in their dreams.”

billy didn’t respond. he was almost done with shaving. he was washing more of his upper arms in the sink, and you suddenly felt bad. you were only taking this long because you thought everyone would be preoccupied with the downstairs activities, and because you couldn’t exactly exit with him standing there — able to see you.

“i can leave if you want to wash,” you spoke.

“water will be cold,” he responded. “‘s fine — i’ll wait the hour.”

you weren’t sure why — but that made you feel bad.

“you could join me.”

you weren’t sure what brought that on, and you knew you’d probably regret it later. however, billy’s eyes drifted up the length of the mirror to the edge where you knew he could see the tub, to your eyes. you weren’t sure how you looked — but you knew your curls were piled on top of your head and you looked sleepy. relaxed, even. peaceful.

“i don’t think you mean that, sweetheart.”

you hummed. “you don’t have to. just thought i’d offer.”

he appeared to sigh, and that’s when you thought he would leave — but he didn’t.

instead, he locked the door.

“should’ve done that in the first place,” he spoke before coming towards the tub to unlace his pants.

you turned your head away from him and let out a small giggle, shielding your gaze from his naked form. “how would we have gotten so well acquainted then, mr. bonney?”

you heard him find the other side of the tub where he sat back against. you let your eye line find in front of you and your jaw almost dropped at the sight. billy appeared to struggle to get comfortable as he sank into the warmth of the tub. the water line came up to right under his chest, showing off all of his perfect and trim muscles. with billy’s arms stretched out around the edge of the tub… you got the perfect view of the stretched muscles of his biceps.

“do i need to remind you about staring?” he asked.

you weren’t sure if he was joking — but he was right. if you wanted respect, you had to give it, too.

but you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was.

“sorry,” you said with a coy smile, and let your head fall back against the tub again.

you could hear water slightly splashing from the other side of the tub. billy had extended his legs so they were brushing yours slightly, and you shivered at the thought.

“can you…” he began. “can you get my back?”

you lifted your head and smiled. i can do all that and more if you asked, you thought.

“sure,” you said with a simple smile.

billy turned around and handed you the soap. there were a few cuts and bruises littered on his back, and you tried to be as careful with them as possible. you started on his neck, working the soap and the sponge against his muscles.

he hummed in response. you could’ve died at the thought of the big, bad billy the kid keening into your touch because you were massaging his muscles just right.

“that feels good,” he spoke. “talented fingers i suppose.”

you laughed lightly at that. you kept the sponge on his shoulders, and then worked down towards the expansion of his shoulder blades. it was scary to see such a broad man before you as you were so bare, but also the look of him was so enticing. you drew rough circles on his skin and worked your way down to the middle of his back.

“that’s good,” he replied. “thank you, darlin’.”

you went to hand the sponge back to him, but he turned around in place instead. the tops of your breasts were showing and you knew he could see the wildness in your eyes.

“how’d a sweet thing like you end up with us?” he asked, eyes searching yours for the answer.

“maybe i’m just the only one who knows how to handle you boys,” you spoke, trying to be coy. “actually… one of them i grew up with. we’ve always worked together, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone.”

“and what would he say if he knew if you were in here with me?” he asked.

you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “wouldn’t be his business. he’s also got a pretty blonde in his lap tonight. change of pace from his usual red head.”

“and he missed a chance to get to see you like this?” he asked, tucking a curl behind your ear.

“is his loss your gain, mr. bonney?” you asked, a smile drifting onto your face.

that was bold. you knew it. you could feel it.

“i think you’d have to ask the pretty miss before me,” he responded, inching his face closer. “she’d be mighty sweet if she let me kiss her.”

“she’s pretty pissed you haven’t already.”

he stared at you for a few minutes with his plump and pink lips parted in such a way where you knew thoughts were running behind his pretty eyes. he dipped his forehead towards yours as the intensity of the situation mixed with the hot steam around you and the liquor inside both of you. he dipped his chin once, and caught your waiting lips with ease.

his lips were dry and cracked against yours, but you loved it. billy was the type of man that was hard and worked even harder, and every bit of him reflected that. his dark curls were twirling around his hairline, mixing with sweat and soapy water. you wanted to brush them back, hop in his lap, and kiss him until there was more water on the floor than in the tub.

but you couldn’t — not yet.

billy’s lips folded between yours as if he was just happy to be here — with you. the feeling was intoxicating as there was nothing like sharing intimacy with a sweet man in the comfort of hot water. you couldn’t help yourself in that moment — you brought your hand up to cup the side of his face, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response.

“you can touch me, you know,” you whispered.

“the things i want to do to you, darlin’…” he spoke, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath at the same time. “shouldn’t be wasted in a tub. let me take you back to your room.”

you both left the bathtub and tried your best to dry off as quickly as possible. it was almost hard to believe you were giggling with billy like innocents as you raced back to your room — hoping not to run into any more cowboys.

you immediately pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed before you climbed into his lap. his thighs were strong and thick — the perfect foundation for a thing like you to hold yourself up enough to grab his cock in your hands, and swallow his moans through another kiss.

“tried not to stare in the bathtub, billy… but can you blame me?” you asked, breathless.

“noticed you starin’,” he grunted, running his calloused hands all over your body. “couldn’t help but stare back. needed to see where the trigger on you was.”

you squealed in delight at his dirty mouth before he threw you off his lap and rolled you over. he immediately started kissing down your body.

“i want you inside me, billy,” you whined. “not that.”

he worked his way back up to you before he caught you in another chaste kiss. against your lips, he spoke, “i’m a gentleman, sweetheart, first and foremost.”

“and what if a dirty little thing like me didn’t want a gentleman?”

he caught your chin in between his pointer finger and thumb and extended your neck ever so slightly. he looked down his nose at your pretty, flushed face. you smiled up at him as he scanned your face. “then i’d tell you — if i’ve got you all to myself, i’m going to do anything i want with that pretty little pussy. planned on tastin’ you, sweetheart — you got a problem with that?”

a wide grin spread across your face as your cheeks became rosier. “can’t say i can argue with you, then, cowboy.”

he pressed a heavy kiss to your lips, your cheek, one on the base of your neck — and then bit down hard on the skin of your shoulder. immediately, your hands came up to lay across his biceps before he began to suck on the spot, sending shock waves throughout your body. he withdrew from you and was in between your thighs in an instant.

he spread your legs and held them down in place. his tongue was strong and thick as it explored the places between your folds. you hoisted yourself onto your elbows so you could get a better look at the angel before you.

you watched as his eyes close as his tongue drew sloppy, wet circles around your clit. your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him bring a hand up to his mouth, lubricate his fingers, and prod at your entrance. billy let out a throaty groan as his two fingers slipped in with ease, exploring for that one special spot.

he watched as your pussy swallowed his fingers, hoping to trap them inside of you. you were almost vibrating at how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you and his drier thumb deliver the most delicious bouts of friction and pressure to your clit.

“yes —“ you gasped, gazing at his fingers.

his eyes immediately flicked up to yours. “still got a problem with this, doll?”

you folded your lips into each other as you shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. you were biting back the moan as he curled your fingers inside of you.

“no, that’s not how this works,” he stated. “if i’m making you feel that good, i should get to hear those pretty moans, don’t you think?”

a deep crease was forming in your brow with the perfect combination of friction, lubrication, pressure, and rhythm you had ever felt. you wanted to respond to him, of course, but how could you?

“i gotta work for it, that it?” he grunted. “oh, sweet thing…”

he shoved a third finger inside of you and you gasped. you couldn’t help it. you fisted the sheets on either side of you and threw your head back in the air. his thumb was working long, drawn out circles on your sensitive clit as your hips bucked up to meet his movements.

“that’s what you needed, baby?” he asked. “break so easily. i’d fit another, but this pussy is so sweet and tight — can’t fit.”

you were practically whining at his words. he would switch between his tongue and thumb every few seconds to show you the type of variety that had your toes curling. his groans against your pussy were the added vibration that kept your hips moving to meet his face.

“tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” he grunted, his eyes closed. “can’t wait to stuff my cock in there.”

“don’t be mean to me, billy,” you gasped. “i want to feel your cock so bad, please…”

“no, baby,” he refused. “not until i make you feel good. you want my cock? yeah, well — you know what i want.”

you whined in frustration at his words — his words, the addition of what was making the heat and pressure build, and build, and build inside you until you were a sobbing mess on the bed.

“that’s it, sweetheart — give in,” he gasped. “i wanna know how good i’m making you feel.”

his voice was so husky it was taking over all of your senses. you hung onto every word as he led you closer and closer to what was your tipping point. he was stretching you so taut — like a string, ready to snap. when he suddenly pulled his hand away, you barely noticed it — until he replaced it with his cock.

you gasped at what came next.

first it was your legs — they immediately began to shake uncontrollably. the immense pressure started at your curled toes, your stretched feet, and worked its way up all the way to your shaking calves and thighs. the warmth coaxed your hips into a soft roll as you rode out your orgasm — blinded by the ecstasy of it all.

you immediately grabbed onto billy for dear life as all of your senses fucking swam. it was wave, after wave, after wave that hit you, arched your back towards the ceiling, and left you fucking breathless. your mouth fell open instantly, parted as whines and soft moans left and filled the open air of your bedroom.

and what did billy do? he grabbed you by the chin, still rutting his hips against yours, and spit in your fucking mouth.

“swallow,” he ordered, eyes boring down into yours.

you gasped as you understood his command, and like the good girl you were — you did as you were told.

“good girl,” he whispered from above you, stroking your chin.

you sucked in a sharp breath of air as you tried to regain your senses. you hoisted yourself back into your elbows, trying to focus — but it was just so hard. your pussy was so, so sensitive and it was like billy’s cock knew exactly out how to drag out your orgasm. you glanced up at billy, and realized your vision was blurry. shattered, fucked out beyond belief — you realized there were tears, literal tears in your eyes.

“no breaks for you, sweetheart,” he spoke, leaning over and holding your hips down. “need to make sure this pussy knows who she belongs to.”

your body refused to stop shaking — but it gave into every touch, caress, pull, and push from billy. you were his to use and you fucking relished in the feeling.

through your dark, thick, damp lashes, you glanced up at him. immediately, his bright, wild eyes connected with yours. there was no stopping the animal before you — not until he got his fix. the pure and pretty girl who always surprised the group with her skill was laying beneath him like a fucked out doll and he couldn’t get enough.

“please, billy,” you whined, biting down on your lip. “use my pussy just like that…”

“my fucking pussy,” he grunted.

“all yours, baby,” you gasped, laying victim to the curling warmth inside your womb once again. it was like an itch that needed to be scratched, and only billy could fix it. the idea of a second orgasm taunted you — teased you, until it was the only thing you could think about. you were close… so close… “billy, fuck — you’re going to make me — you’re gonna —“

“that’s it, baby, yeah —“ his thrusts were getting sloppier now as a light sheen of sweat lay across his forehead. the veins in his biceps and neck were protruding and his eyes were trained on your face. “bein’ so good f’me.”

“billy —“ you cried, tears coming to your eyes again. you reached for him, and brought him down to you. he held you by the back of the head and held your jaw in place with his thumb. through gritted teeth and wet eyes, you sobbed, “driving me fucking crazy.”

“yeah, yeah?” he taunted. “good. boutta make a mess of this fuckin’ pussy.”

with one last thrust, you curled into billy’s neck and cried. actually cried. he held you close to him as he continued to thrust inside of you — pressing fat, wet kisses to the side of your face. you were shaking in his hold, trying so desperately to hold onto reality — but it was slipping. it was slipping farther and farther away with every sweet word that billy ghosted over your ear.

“say you’re mine,” he ordered, with desperation in your voice. “say you’re mine, and i’ll cum.”

“i’m yours, billy,” you sobbed. “i’m yours. only yours.”

an animalistic groan left billy’s mouth as he tugged on your hair. he pulled your neck back and taut, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and biting down on your shoulder. his body pulsed one, two, three times as his orgasm overtook him and you. you were a weeping, crying mess and took everything that billy gave you.

he rut his cock into you a few more times as you both came down for your highs. billy was so commanding in bed — but after? nothing compared to how he was after. he pulled you into his lap, cock still inside you, and began peppering kisses all over your face. sweet nothings were whispered into your ear, but all you could do was whimper quietly in response. he laughed slightly in your ear, his breath ticking your sensitive skin, and dug his nose into your hairline.

“never getting rid of me now, sweet thing.”

- - -

would love to hear your thoughts :)

-L

#billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid #william bonney smut #william h bonney x reader #william bonney #kid antrim #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you

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cup-o-stars · 2 months

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How to draw like you no borax

Good question!

I'd warn against following my process (at least if you want to learn), but I'll be honest and show you, lol. (Heads up: this is just how I do FAN art. When having fun, I generally care less about the fundamentals.)

1. I slap down super rough sketches, jotting lines/expressions like bullet points of my idea. Pretty much stick figures with just enough detail to remember who's who later. Not shown here, I also move, resize, and add details to express the intended composition if I'm planning something larger. You may notice a lot of curved lines / haphazard circles.

2. I refine the sketch by drawing it with more intention and build structure with slightly blockier shapes. If I'm really struggling with a pose, this is also where I'll find references or look at myself for bits and pieces to fill in the gaps. (When practicing, I would highly recommend using a reference from the start so all your limbs are an appropriate length and you don't need to say things like "that's passable" right before posting. If you're a perfectionist you'll leave that thought with the rough sketch.)

3. I'll decide around here whether or not to leave the sketch as is or commit to lineart (not likely). I guess I'd say I "shape the lines" here by going over some to add thickness/weight, and by adding basic sort-of-shading to break things up a little. Then I'll just fill in space if the page looks empty. (Usually this is where I incorporate the borax, but I hear baking soda works nicely if you're worried.)

4. Onto coloring. I don't feel confident enough to pretend I know what I'm doing here, lol. I just choose my base colors, imagine the general direction of the light source, then add minor gradients to the light and dark layers so they don't look flat. Then I just add some BS highlights and outline them. I've only recently found the motivation to properly practice coloring and just go with the flow tbh.

You may notice that Nami's forearm is too long, her hand looks like a pancake and Chopper has no joints! My kind sibling explained to me once that my anatomy is poor, but cohesive enough that nothing stands out too bad, lol. That's why it is important to use references!! And if you're me, practice all parts of anatomy at the same time with full bodies so that even when you're at a loss, your hands aren't that much better than your feet.

All in all, to draw like me, just have a very hedonistic approach to art, ha. Draw what you want, avoid getting burnt out on any single piece (sometimes that happens when you try to perfect drawings one at a time), and follow my personal motto:

Make fun, not masterpieces.

Idk how helpful this was, but there you have it!

#drawing #one piece #fanart #nico robin #luffy #ask

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thesummerpetrichor · 4 months

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𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾:

𝒪𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Its been five months since you started sleeping together, and you're having second thoughts about your "relationship" with Javier. But what does it matter to him? he hasn't even kissed you yet. 🍒 Continuation of “Off to the Races” and “Your Face is Shameless” but can be read alone.

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, thicc age gap [Javi is in his 40s reader is in her early 20s], mentions of anxiety, major angst, situationship, guilt, unrequited love, self loathing, kissing [they did it!], Javier is emotionally unavailable, petnames, major dom/sub dynamic [dd/lg ish vibes], mean!Javi then soft!dom!Javi, degradation, dumbification, minor objectification, major size kink [Javi is bigger than and can lift reader], praise kink [finally some good girl action], daddy kink, choking, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral [f receiving], unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if i missed anything 🫶

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello!! I'm back!! thought it would be fitting to revisit these two post hiatus. Sorry in advance for the emotional torture that is about to ensue, but I couldn't help myself. Big thank you to @pixelsandothernonsense for being a big supporter of these two and fuelling their return on the blog time and time again. Lotsa plot, lotsa porn– as always. Hope you enjoy, nasties. Mwah

🍒Off to the races 🍒Your face is shameless 🍒Masterlist

You wanted it to be easy but it’s difficult. You wanted it to be over, but it was not.

While Colombia seemed to be all fun and games at first sight, the longer you remained stuck in the American embassy’s city centre building the more you longed for home.

Your research was hitting a roadblock, and things were hard. Funding was running out, and your professors were running away. Better jobs, better prospects. But your degree was the least cause for your troubles.

You were smart. You were controlled. You didn’t know what you were thinking when you got yourself involved with Javier Peña. It seemed fun at the moment- fooling around, messing with a man double your age and four times more qualified. Trying to wrangle his true intentions out from under his furrowed brow and frown.

Looking back you felt stupid. Embarrassed. A little ashamed of what you had become. How you let him treat you.

He used you like a walking sex doll. Didn’t give you one look afterwards. Maybe a pat on the back but somehow that was more insulting. He had never kissed you. And there you were, fixing your makeup in the office bathroom after an evening under his desk had ruined it.

It had been five months since the first time he'd bent you over his desk but you were only half way through your trip. Five more months seemed too long to bear. It made you sick.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, and sleepy and your clothes weren’t crisp as usual. You felt a little bit like the tissue you’d just dabbed against your cheek. A little flimsy and a little dirty. A little used, perhaps.

It felt a little worse knowing it was all your doing. You weren’t expecting a man like Javier to change. Objectively, it wasn’t possible. But you still asked for more. For him to use and then forget about you. You wanted to leave. You wished he’d never seen this side of you. Frankly you wished you hadn’t either.

Because you were smart and funny and interesting and could talk about all sorts of things. You liked music and books and movies and trying new food. But he’d never seen you that way. He never would.

You hadn’t spoken to him once. Not about anything that wasn’t strictly utilitarian. Especially not after he started fucking you. It was far too awkward and far too intimate.

For him.

Your feelings flip flopped every day, from the casualty of the affair seeming rather appealing, to it making your chest ache. And yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself, unable to understand not only what this thing you had going on with Agent Peña was, but why you couldn't seem to stop.

Five months camping out in the office and you hadn’t missed a single day. No matter how bad the hurt in your chest you rolled out of bed and reminded yourself of why you were where you were. It worked. It hurt, but it worked.

But after five months it seemed like getting out of bed was suddenly impossible one morning and you thought it best to stay home. You got a few calls. One from Fiestl and Van Ness. Connie Murphy sent Steve over with soup when she heard you weren’t feeling well.

No news from Javi Peña.

You slept most of the day. With your computer shut and materials put away. You didn’t want to think about it. You fixed yourself dinner- instant noodles, and headed to bed once again.

You thought it was temporary but the excruciating pain only lingered and carried you on to another day confined to the four walls of your bedroom.

It was a bad idea- ignoring your work for as long as you did. You should have known that you wouldn’t be able to put it on the back burner- considering the neurosis surrounding your work, the fact you took a two day break was impressive. It wasn’t long before your anxiety was eating away at you, an impending deadline hanging over your head and reminding you the world didn't care about your little pity party.

Stupid as it was, you found yourself crossing the street at the witching hour of 23:00- clad in the soft cotton dress you forced yourself into earlier that evening. The friday night had persuaded everyone out of the office, and you weren’t surprised when you found the top floor of the embassy building cold and empty.

You were glad, and perhaps it was the only way you could stomach being there– alone.

Your desk was exactly how you’d left it a couple of days ago- your books piled in one corner, papers thrown all over the place. It was disorganised and untidy– very unlike you. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you began to sort things out, a feeling of complete exhaustion and defeat threatening to force you into your office chair. You glanced over at Javier’s office, signs he was out for the week prompting the slight relaxation of your shoulders.

When you finally sat down to get to work, your eyes couldn't help but flutter shut every few moments, the screen of your computer zoning in and out of your vision every now and then. The words seemed to escape you, four lines on your document all you could manage before you were pressing your forehead against the wood of your desk.

After spending the past two days sleeping somehow all you wanted to do was climb right back into bed.

Music, surely that would help! Or at least you thought, to no avail, a whole album played once, yet you could only manage another paragraph. Turns out burnout was real.. and it had decided now was the best time to get you. But you weren’t ready to pack up and banish yourself to your studio apartment just yet. So you upped the volume, and sat up just a little bit straighter in your chair, and got back to work.

Something about the loneliness of working in that drab, white, characterless office was especially miserable. So miserable in fact it was almost comforting, it was so miserable it was funny. It wasn't long before you were sitting completely straight in that sad, uncomfortable office chair, laughing at yourself with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. You were stupid, and acted silly, and had all these big feelings, but what did it matter? It was diabolical; the capacity Javier had for ruining your life, but soon enough you’d be out of here and one day you’d probably be laughing at the whole ordeal.

It was exhausting, but what could you do? The words came just a little bit easier from that point, and you felt yourself accept defeat and immersed yourself in your paper. At the end of the day you couldn’t control how he felt about you- you just had to take it or leave it. Not everything is that deep, you rolled your eyes at yourself, but you knew truthfully the lack of his care and affection was more than a little sting. You decided you were better off defining the “relationship” for yourself, and maybe showing a little bit more restraint. Who said everything had to be that serious, maybe you should've taken a page out of Javier’s book!

Yes that was it, not everything was that serious, was it?

You really wished you’d had the foresight to gauge the stupidity of trying to drown out your surroundings in a public space in the middle of the night. Sure, no external threat could get you inside the excessively secure embassy building, but what did that mean when the real threat to your sanity was the DEA attache.

Truth be told, you'd have jumped in fear if anyone had tapped their fingers on your computer screen, but when Javier rounded your desk with a raised brow and waved his hand in front of your computer, you were particularly startled.

“The hell are you doing here?”

Any other time you’d probably met him with a snappy reply, something to get him going, maybe rile him up enough till he was pressing your face against your papers and fucking you from the back. You wished you could have given him that response that day, but you were so completely out of yourself, you settled for a shrug and a normal “trying to finish this section”.

“That why you disappeared these past two days?”

“I wish.. probably would have been done by now.” His brows kit, somewhat confused and just noticing your tired, puffy eyes now that he was closer.

“When’s it due.” he leaned to sit on your table , and traced your features with his fingers. You felt your eyes flutter shut as the tip of his index ran along the bridge of your nose, and feared your new policy was at risk of being thrown right out of the window at his attention. Sighing, you leaned into his touch. Unhappy, but unable to resist it. “Next week.”

He pitched your damp cheeks between his fingers, gently shaking your head from side to side. “You've got time.”

You hummed and took a moment to look up at him- yellow table lamp doing his golden features all sorts of favours, ones that he didn't even need to begin with if you were being honest.The weight of his hand, the roughness of his skin against yours had a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Javier's hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to the back of your neck, and he gently guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you helped yourself up long enough to watch him rise beside you, stepping closer. He stepped around you, positioning himself between yourself and the chair, his breath warm against your ear.

"Sit," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. His hand moved to the back of your neck again, this time pulling you down onto his lap. The gesture was possessive, not tender.

You obeyed, lowering yourself onto him, your legs on either side of his waist, dangling off the seat. Javier's hands rested on your waist momentarily, heavy and harsh, before drifting lower to your hips, pulling you further into his lap till you could feel his bulge swell against you. You felt yourself get wet, he lifted your hips and then pulled you back down against him, allowing you the slight relief of the friction as you felt yourself embarrassingly throb against him.

The proximity was suffocating, his scent—cigarettes, and aftershave. He leaned closer, and for a moment, in your delusion, you thought he might kiss you. Instead his fingers squeezed around your throat, breath fanning your lips. “You want to be daddy’s good girl, dontch’ya?” his voice was low, and biting, and you knew you were in for it, for avoiding him, when he tightened his grip at your lack of answer.

Slick pooled in your panties, and he let you press your hot core against him, undoubtedly able to feel how easily he could unravel you. You shifted your gaze up at the ceiling to avoid his own.

You squeaked out a feeble “yes”, already delirious. “Then why the fuck, did you think you could disappear without telling me?” He reached for the string that held together the top of your dress, rather aggressively tugging it undone, watching as it unravelled and revealed the soft cotton of your lingerie. “Busy” you whined when traced your skin with his pointer finger, palm coming to squeeze at your breast and then pull your bra aside.

“Not looking too busy now, are ya?” your nipple pebbled under his palm, his hot breath fanning against your skin as he trailed open mouth kisses along your neck. You whimpered, reaching to tangle your fingers in Javier’s hair. Surprisingly, he let you tug on his locks, allowing you to ground yourself as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your bud. He came up to nip at your jaw and you whimpered a soft “M’ sorry”.

“What was that?” Javier rolled his eyes and growled in your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth, and pinching the flesh of your thighs, prompting you to speak up. And speak up you did, heat seeping into your panties at his tone and words. He didn’t respond to you, just hummed his assent and pulled you harder against him.

His hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and his big arms crossed under you to support your weight. Continuing to kiss along your neck he plopped you on the table, but you couldn’t lie, you much preferred being carried so gently in his hold. Thank god the desk had been cleared– giving him enough room to push you back against it. You didn't really want to unwrap your legs from around him, but he grunted disapprovingly before prying your legs from his waist. Your heart jumped as he took a seat on your dingy rolly chair, his large palms lifting your legs by your calves till your feet were planted on his thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows.

Javier's eyes caught sight of your untied shoelace, a small hazard in the midst of your hurried night. As usual, without a word, he leaned down, fingers deftly working to tie the lace in a swift, fluid motion, securing the bow with a final, firm tug, patting the top of your shoe before returning to the task at hand.

His eyes were hungry like they always were, deep brown, alluring, the only readable emotion in them- lust. Those large palms parted your knees, making space for you between them. A tingle ran up your spine when he brushed the tips of his fingers against the inside of your thigh, dragging them along your skin till he was toying with the hem of your panties. He shifted forward in the chair, meeting your eyes as he planted a kiss on your calf, and then hoisted your legs up on his shoulders.

Javier took a moment to admire you, letting his rough hands roam under your skirt. You always wondered what those hands were doing; how they wrapped around his gun when he ran out of the office with it, how small they made the cigarette he was smoking look. You watched him grab, and hold, and type from across your desk when he hadn’t fucked you in a day or two, imagined those hands grabbing at your flesh and wrapping around your throat. You imagined him pumping his fingers in and out your pussy with your own hands between your legs in the middle of the night- unable to go mere days without him fucking you, salivating at the thought of those hands wrapped around his thick cock, wondering if he too couldn’t go without your touch.

Lost in your thoughts you shuddered when you felt him drag his tongue up the cut of your slit, the already moist fabric of your panties sticking to your skin as he nudged your clit with his nose. Your head fell back involuntarily, and you felt your arms ache as you continued to struggle to hold yourself up on your elbows. Seemingly, he had decided that day he wasn’t going to make you work for it- you looked like you were working far too much already.

“Look at me.” Javier sharply instructed from between your legs. Nipping the inside of your right thigh till you yelped in his hold. You weren't going to last very long at the sight of him, eyes glancing up at you as his mouth ghosted over your soaked pussy. You watched intently as his fingers pulled your panties aside, softly grazing your swollen flesh in a way that had you pulling your lip between your teeth to contain the pornographic moan that threatened to spill from your mouth and alert the security guard across the hall.

Your leg twitched on his shoulder as he licked a long, firm stripe up your aching pussy. Both your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue softly explored your folds. The sight of Javier between your legs was enough to send you over the edge, one that would live in your head for a very long time.

You struggled to hold his eyes with your own when he licked at your entrance, increasing his pace ever so slightly before he was softly sucking your clit into his mouth. Letting yourself lean back against the table you reached to continue to tangle your fingers in his hair, hoping he'd let you have his fluffy locks in your hold. Turns out you were lucky the first time, because as was more common, Javier reminded you of his “no grabbing at daddy” attitude by grasping your hand in his.

“No grabbin at daddy, babygirl” he murmured against your wetness and you shivered. His fingers engulfed yours, stroking your skin and moving your hands to your chest. His large palm covered yours and squeezed your fingers around your breasts. You moaned, and arched your back against the table up into both your palms as his tongue achingly slipped inside you.

The feel of his mouth against you was more than perfect, the way he expertly ate you out till you were wiggling your hips against his face, his nose nudging your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. Slow and soft then faster and rough, just how he knew you liked it.

He seemed to be enjoying the feeling of you just as much, groaning against your wet cunt everytime you twitched and shuddered against him, the taste of you prompting him only to bury himself deeper between your thighs, pull and grab at your hips, hold you close against him as your chest rose and fell.

Javier lashed his tongue at your entrance, then plunged it into your slick cunt. You felt your core tighten, and you knew you couldn’t hold on much longer. “Please…” barely able to complete your sentence you squealed when he circled your clit with his tongue. You could feel him grin against the inside of your thigh, and you reached for his hands on your hips to tug at his fingers feebly.

Making out the sound of his chuckle over your heavy breathing you whined, and then proceeded to melt in his hold when he responded with a rather gentle, yet delayed and somewhat playfully annoyed “You can come for daddy, babygirl.”

The grip of your fingers on his tightened, and you sighed, finally letting go as Javier worked between your legs. Your cunt clamped down on his tongue as he finished you off, licking you through your orgasm and holding your hips down as you shook and squirmed above him.

He kissed along your seam gently as you caught your breath, your breath hitching when he pushed two fingers in your still sensitive cunt to gently stroke your walls. He stifled a groan. You looked down between your legs as he withdrew those fingers and began to stand up. “She so fuckin wet for me, hmm?” He rubbed slow, soft circles on your clit, not caring to watch you intently for any giveaway that would instruct him on the perfect rhythm. He already knew what you liked- he didn’t need to bother. “Slutty little pussy achin’ to be fucked… after all these days, aint she?”

He took a second to get a good look at you as he moved closer between your legs, and you propped yourself back up on your elbows and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him in.

“My good little slut”

Bringing his fingers to your lips he urged them open, pushing in and watching you suck gently on his digits. You shivered at the taste of your own arousal. As always you felt a little fuzzy when he did something like that– letting your eyes droop until he nudged you to release them with a pop. He ran those fingers across your lips, watching you struggle to keep your eyes on him as his hand drifted downwards to wrap swiftly around your neck. “That's better isn't it?” he pressed his clothed cock against your bare, swollen pussy, your panties surely on the verge of ripping the way they’d been pulled aside. Javier seemed to be thinking along the same lines as you, because in a moment he reached for them and urgently dragged them down your hips, unwrapping himself from your hold and holding your ankles in one hand as the other slid your panties all the way off of you.

When you whined at the loss of his body against yours he tutted, raising his eyebrows at you in warning.

He then grabbed your thigh with his hand once again, squeezing it and holding it in place against his waist. You heard the jingle of his belt as he undid it. A rough edge on said belt scraped against your skin, but it was difficult to pay attention to it when you felt him reach between your bodies to tease your dripping slit with his length.

It was sad to admit, but nothing took the weight of your shoulders much like the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your wet pussy, head bumping your clit till you were shivering and then notching at your entrance. You heard him mutter a strained curse under his breath at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in. Javier didn't waste much time, as much as he seemed to enjoy the sight of you deliriously wiggling your hips under him.

He leaned down and traced the curve of your jaw with the bridge of his nose, breathing in your scent as he pushed in– slowly and gently. Much slower and gentler than he had ever been before. Your legs tightened around him, hips lifting pathetically as you felt him stretch you open. It had been far too long since you’d had him inside you.

“Such a good little girl..” His hips snapped towards yours.

“Aren’t ya?” It was an out of body experience, so overwhelming and dizzying you could almost see yourself in the act. Your brain couldn’t comprehend that tone and that gentleness as is, forget when Javier’s cock dragged deliciously against your aching walls.

Your elbows caved from under you, letting you fall completely back against your little desk. Your head went to fall back soon after, but Javier had managed to snake his hand behind your neck– cradling your head and shielding it from the hard wooden table. Instinctively, you buried your nose in the collar of his dress shirt. He let you seek respite, palm holding you against his warm body, and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck.

Your skin felt like pins and needles, little sparks bounced off your exposed waist and prompted you to wiggle your hips away from him at the intensity of the sensations. “Nah uh” yanking you back in his direction Javier squeezed your hips in his hands, refusing to let you escape the death grip he had on your body, pulling you towards him with every deep, slow, thrust.

“Silly little thing” He laughed against your lips, so close they brushed against you. You couldn’t help it when your mouth fell slack against his. He took your bottom lip between his teeth. He released it as your walls clenched around him, brows knitting at the feel of your warm, soft cunt around his cock.

“Mine aren’t ya? Daddy’s good little slut?” Unable to catch hold of anything on the table, your hands flew to his shirt, your fingers twisting the fabric as you gripped it as tightly as you could. He let you pull him towards you, one hand sneaking between your bodies to grab and squeeze at your breast.

“Then you’re gonna take it like I give it to ya?” You tried to nod, head lulling side to side and mouth hanging open, desperate noises leaving your lips. When your back arched against the table he pulled you into his chest, letting you wrap your legs around his waist so tightly you felt the leather of his belt cut into your soft skin.

Eventually he picked up his pace, and you could make out the sound of your pens clattering to the ground as your back moved relentlessly against the desk. The dim grey flood light above you came in and out of your focus, the heat that swelled up inside you hindering your ability to concentrate on absolutely anything. “Getting all cock drunk on me..” Anything but him. Yet another orgasm stirred in your tummy, your entire body hot and tingling with overwhelm. “There’s my good girl”.

He pulled you into him with every thrust, his hard length throbbing inside of you. “Just how I like ya’– no thoughts in that head’ve yours.” Your bare chest pressed against his soft shirt, but you longed to feel the heat of his body against your skin.

“Can't think ‘bout anything but daddy can you?” he managed to laugh, his thick cock dragging against your wet walls in a way that had your mouth falling open in a gasp. “Just daddy, ain't that right?” As usual he grabbed at every part of you he could, hands seeking purchase on any exposed skin.

He grazed your earlobe with his teeth as he spoke. “Poor baby, going dumb on daddy.” All you could do was whine. “Can’t hear ya..” you whimpered again, strained and hasty “yes”s leaving your mouth at record speed as the tension in your core threatened to burst.

“S’ how it should be” your dress made it easy for you to slide along the surface of the table as he fucked into your tight, wet heat, railing you as you twitched around him. You struggled to form a broken “daddy” between your lips.

“Stupid little girl can’t do anything but be daddy’s little sexdoll hmm?” you shook your head, but he grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. “‘S okay babylove, s’ how daddy likes ya best” he shook your face gently, “when ya ain't runnin that smart mouth of yours.”

He grunted and sighs above you, seemingly lost in his own pleasure, not bothering for the first time to make you beg. It was as if the two days you spent apart had him prioritising other things. “Better this way isn’t it, nothin you gotta worry that pretty head about…” you felt your cunt squeeze him. “Not when daddy’s fuckin’ ya’”

You could tell he was close by the way his thick cock throbbed against your slick walls, the way his Texan accent came through just a little more than it usually did. Your thighs quivered against his waist as the heat continued to pool in your belly.

You knew he was close when he straightened up again, hands wrapping firmly around your throat as he angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you over and over. “C’mon baby, be a good girl and come for daddy” he tightened his grip, thumb reaching up to swipe gently at your slack lips.

You felt your pussy clench around his cock, finally letting go as you writhed under him. You heard him groan over the ringing in your ears, your own eyes rolling back as your orgasm rolled over you in waves. You gushed around him, your own release prompting his.

Watching his brows knit as his thrusts got sloppy might have well sent you on a second release, aftershocks making your hips wiggle against his palms as he squeezed them, his cock throbbing inside you before he erupted with a shudder. A string of strained curses escaped his mouth, chest rising and falling rapidly as he rode out his high.

You laid there, the heat from your exertion slowly dissipating. You felt Javier pull out, his spend trickling down your thighs, and slide your panties back up over your legs. A heaviness tugged at your limbs and made your eyelids droop. Every muscle felt loose, languid, as if all the tension and energy had been drawn out, leaving behind only a deep, satisfying fatigue.

Javier put his hands on your waist and lifted you off the table, you returned to your habitual silence, this time albeit far more satiated than before. You were dizzy, feeling like a small ghost floating in front of him, engulfed by his towering form. The world around you began to fade, sounds muffling and blurring into an indistinct background hum.

Every blink became slower, your vision narrowing to slits before closing entirely. You let yourself drift into that warm state between sleep and wakefulness, the exhaustion of the week catching up to you in more ways than one, uncaring of the sense that Javier’s eyes had been lingering. You felt him trace the bridge of your nose, reducing any prospects of you actually getting off that desk.

He fixed your lingerie and tied the bow of your dress back up, one hand returning to stroke your cheek. His other arm came to support your back as it wrapped around you, pulling you towards him. You looked up to find him watching you, with an expression you couldn’t bother to decipher at the moment.

You couldn’t help but fall into his chest as he stood above you, his arms reaching behind you as he packed your things in your work bag. You felt your eyes flutter shut again, complete exhaustion taking over your weak form. He placed a kiss to your temple, lifting you off the table once and into his hold once again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking securely at the ankles. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into your flesh.

You felt cold again suddenly, and Javier readjusted his arms to hold you with his right while his left rubbed along your shoulders to warm up your skin, prickled with goosebumps.

Your head rested against his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a comforting, rhythmic lull. You nuzzled deeper into the curve of his neck, tilting your head till your nose was brushing the cut of his jaw.

Javier shifted slightly, and you could feel the subtle change in his posture as he leaned towards you, and his face came level with yours– you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a stark contrast to the cool air around you. His hand cradled your cheek.

With your eyes still closed you felt his lips press gently against yours, so pillowy and soft you barely registered them. He tasted how you’d imagined so many times before– cigarettes, and whiskey. Melting into his touch your hands moved to ball the fabric of his shirt gently in your fist. His lips moved against your’s with a carefulness you couldn’t really understand, but the fact that they were at all was enough. Exhaustion aside, you had a feeling the triviality of the whole ordeal, its comfort and normality seemed expected. And just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Perhaps it had always meant a lot more to you, than it did to him.

The hand that was cupping your cheek pinched it and then snaked around your waist to help you find your footing on the ground, the same hand coming down to slap your ass as he pushed you towards the door.

In usual Javier fashion he checked his phone, uninterestedly murmuring a soft “you can start again tomorrow” as you stood in the elevator. He let you lean against him, his palm coming down to pat your head momentarily before it was back to sorting the files in his hands. You looked up at him, his mind now completely diverted to whatever he had come to collect in the office in the first place, so unbothered by what seemed to transpire between the two of you.

Perhaps nothing really did.

You wished his words gave you some motivation, but it was turning out to be really difficult to want to be anything more than his dumb, silly, little girl.

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

sakjdlakd I'm sorry I just can't let them be happy lmao. Hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think. Thank you to everyone who reblogs and comments on my content, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @/sardika 🐝✨💗

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a-hazbin-reader · 2 months

Text

Vox X Alastor's Marriage Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Vox being a dick? Alastor sometimes being a dummy

Description: Different ways Vox involves himself in Alastor's marriage

Due to his constant surveillance, Vox knows just about everything he can about your marriage with Alastor

Once Alastor had forgotten your wedding anniversary and who ended up letting him know before the day was over? Vox.

When Alastor saw him coming he was sure Vox was there to pick a fight when suddenly flowers/chocolates/jewelry were being shoved into his arms

"You fucker! I can't believe you forgot your own anniversary! Do you know what your wife is doing to make today special for you!?"

Alastor was too stunned to even register the flick on the forehead Vox gives him before he leaves, still ranting about how Alastor is a careless husband

Or another time you were being moody for an entire week and Alastor couldn't figure out why but Vox knew the exact reason

He was all too happy to rub it in Alastor's face whenever he could, which was a lot considering how busy Alastor was with overlord meetings and such

Popping up on a nearby TV to give a news prompt about how Alastor's marriage was on the rocks and the clueless overlord didn't even know why

Smugly sipping a drink and smirking at Alastor from across the room while making jabs about his wife

Or stopping by the hotel to give you small gifts and his condolences because your husband is such an idiot

Or just making the reason for your moodiness worse by poking the bear and reminding you what he did

"Poor, poor Y/N...~ I'm sure you've been feeling so neglected by your husband lately~ He hasn't been making any time for you at all~"

Only to end up with the door slammed in his face and a cracked screen

Thinks it's hilarious when you two are fighting until it's not, which is usually when you two are too angry to react to his prodding anymore

It gets to a point where he's sick of it and it's no fun so then he's trying to get you guys to make amends

Sending you flowers pretending they're from Alastor, setting you two up on surprise dates and trying to subtly make you two miss each other

Plays a lot more romantic shows on the TV, putting in ads for jewelry/clothes that you might like whenever Alastor walks by a shop

He's weirdly excited too when it works but that's only because now he can go back to messing with Alastor

Will actually chase away anybody else who tries to come in between you two because that's HIS JOB

"Valentino! She's a married woman!!"

"AH! MIERDA!! That hurts!"

"Oh! Y/N, just the woman I was looking to see. Just a quick heads up but there's some bright eye'd thing who-"

"Say no more, Vox."

It kills him if he doesn't know what's going on in your marriage and he'll eventually show up at your door

Usually holding tea or coffee, pretending it's some sort of important business until you two are sitting together in silence

"So...how are things between you and Alastor?"

"...Vox..."

Immediately cracks and throws himself at your feet-

"I'M DESPERATE! ARE YOU GUYS GONNA DIVORCE!? I NEED TO KNOW SO I CAN EMOTIONALLY PREPARE MYSELF!"

"We're not divorcing, we've just been taking time away from the public eye to spend together. Alone."

"Oh."

Vox is simultaneously rooting for your marriage while also plotting the end of it, yes it's confusing, yes it makes his head hurt

No, he won't stop

I couldn't get these ideas out of my head, I'll go back and fix mistakes later. Maybe add more, if you guys want to add more leave a comment and I'll add it with credit!!

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox

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mins-fins · 2 months

Text

hold me tight

&&. yes it took you a good couple of years, but it's nothing making out in a pool can't fix!

pairing: na jaemin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, sorta kinda sorta suggestive

warnings: kissing (is that a warning?)

word count: 1.4k

notes: this is a snippet from a longer form thing that i have given up on, but anyway, who else loves na jaemin?? if we ignore the fact that i only learned how to swim like one week ago….. i really like pools now that im not almost drowning every few business minutes 😁 i also really like na jaemin, and my last nana work was angst so i have to make it up to you all ⭐️ also, sort of kissing writing practice, it's terrible, don't focus on it pls xoxo

your arms are crossed as you slide the glass door open.

"jaemin".

"hm?"

you sigh, a heavy breath leaving your lips. he giggles, escaping your scathing stare by diving under the water. your corresponding groan gives him yet another thing to smile about, even when he's attempting to hide from you in chenle's pool. "how the fuck are you swimming at eleven pm?"

when jaemin rises again, he snickers, somehow able to keep his composure after almost inhaling a bunch of chlorine. "it's fun, y/n, why do you nag me so much?"

"i'm not nagging, i just need to make sure you don't get hypothermia".

he pouts like a child being punished. "your boring y/n" he sings, smile still tugging at his lips as he lays on his back, basking in the water that keeps him afloat.

you again sigh, rolling your eyes as you sit down at the edge of the pool, legs crossed. "and you act like a child, jaemin".

though he would usually feign offense at such words, it seems a switch flips in his head, and he swims his way over to you, leaning his arms against the ground you sit on. "you love me, though".

you chuckle, now that's amusing. "do i?"

jaemin hums, nodding, smile unmoving as traces shapes into your leg. "you do, that's why you aren't snitching on me to chenle".

you scrunch your nose at the feeling of his wet finger on your body. "what are you gonna do if i don't follow that?"

"strangle you, maybe".

the threat is said with such certainty that you laugh, because there's a hidden sense of playfulness behind the warning. "you can't strangle me, you need me".

he scoffs, pinching your knee and chuckling at the yelp he receives. "you sound like jeno".

"is that an insult?"

"you two are just as desperate as each other, so.. yeah!"

your eye roll is stuck to you at this point, maybe you simply expect such words from your best friend, because it doesn't exactly furrow your eyebrows as much as it makes you giggle. you slap jaemin's hand away from your leg, childishly sticking out your tongue at him. "your a bastard".

"i'm being honest, come in with me?"

now it's your turn to scoff, listening to the rhythmic whistles and silent splashes of water. "no, you're crazy".

"oh come on! you aren't leaving me to entertain myself alone, are you?"

"i can entertain you while being dry".

he narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest underwater. "you are boring".

you click your tongue; "how sad".

"y/n!" he's quick to whine. "how are you going to come out here to nag me then not get in the water?"

"well i didn't come out here to swim".

"then you should leave".

he pouts again, and you sigh again. it's always like this with na jaemin isn't it?

you roll your eyes as he starts staring at you with that look. "okay fine, i'm sorr— AHH!"

your statement is suddenly cut off when he uses his superhuman strength to pull you down from your place, and you fall face first into the pool with a huge splash.

when you finally come to, jaemin only stares at you with that same shit eating grin. "oh you assho—"

"hey! you can't punch me in chenle's pool!"

"and whose gonna stop me?"

you yelp again when he splashes water in your direction, just barely closing your eyes in enough time to avoid the water attempting to enter them. "you think your sooooo funny huh?"

"hilarious, even".

you grimace, shaking your head aggressively back and forth in an attempt to get some of the water out of your hair. "fuck you".

jaemin frowns again, but he can barely hold in his snicker, and now it's your turn to cross your arms underwater. he moves his hair strands out of his face, staring at you for a weirdly long time. "i mean.. you look pretty like this".

you deadpan, cheeks just barely flaring up at the words. he says it all the time, y/n, it's not weird..

but na jaemin himself is weird, so you shouldn't be thinking all that into it.

"are you flattering me so i don't murder you?"

he snickers, looking down, seemingly as nervous about it as you are. "oh so i'm not allowed to compliment you now?"

"you're a weirdo, i always have to question what you do".

jaemin gasps loudly, clear offense in his tone, you can barely hide your smile as you see his reaction. maybe it's a bit strange how his eyes linger on your smile, but what can he say? it's pretty, he needs to make you laugh again.

"y/n".

you blink, staring at your best friend with eyes full of desire. did the outside air just turn up in temperature? it can not be this hot in early march. "yes?"

he hesitates for a moment, as if contemplating his words, which is probably the strongest sight to ever meet your eyes, because when na jaemin wants to say something, he says it. you sometimes forget he even has a thought process with how abrupt he is.

"can i kiss you?"

maybe it's the way it falls from his lips so naturally, or maybe it's the way his lips press together, they do look particularly soft, his constant use of lip balm clearly paying off.

you stare, the air getting significantly hotter, the water should be combatting that, right? your super attractive best friend who you totally harbor no romantic feelings towards just asked for permission to kiss you.

you chuckle. "in chenle's pool? really?"

your stalling, trying to correctly collect your word as your wondrous, beautiful best friend, na jaemin himself, stares at you like you're the only person in the world. has his gaze always been that heavy? when did your hands begin getting so clammy? what if you simply trust fall back into the water and drown? maybe it would be easier to avoid the awkwardness of this situation then..

"hey, when you have a chance you take it".

you laugh again, he really is something. you don't say more, simply pull him forward by his shoulder, finger itching to trace the skin of his bare chest. not before the kiss y/n, have some composure.

jaemin traces his fingers over the line of your jaw, and he pulls you in. his other hand slides down to your right hip, drawing a small squeak from you as your hands move up to his hair.

he wants to savor the moment, take a picture of it and hang it on his wall, there's a certain hunger in the way he groans against your lips, thumbs caressing the sides of your cheek. your arms are quick to wrap around his neck, still feeling the hairs on the back of his neck.

"you're so eager".

"you're the one who asked" you breath, gritting your teeth. "and besides—" you lean forward to take his lips again, the heat of his body transferring to yours. "—you wanted this as much as me didn't you?"

your desperation is quick to manifest, it manifests in the way you exhale sighs and whines, it's just something with na jaemin.

you two slowly.. swim(?) backward, your back hitting the surface of the pool wall. "oh chenle is going to kill us".

jaemin snickers. "why? it's not like were fucking in the pool".

you stare at him incredulously, of course he had to bring that up out of all things, but your face still heats up, and his lips turn up. "oh? do you want to fuck in the pool?"

"no you— pervert! we are not going to fuck in the pool!"

"okay okay, it was just a suggestion" he rolls his eyes, squeezing your hip.

you scrunch your nose, splashing water in his direction. "hey, let's just make this easy, go out with me?"

your jaw almost drops. is this man really serious?

"are you really asking me out in chenle's pool?"

"not as romantic as i wanted it to be but.. it works".

you would punch that smile off na jaemin's face if he wasn't absolutely adorable, oh, and you also really enjoy kissing him down. "okay stupid, but make it a good first date".

"i always keep my promises!"

and if you kiss him again? well that's no one else's business.

#na jaemin #nct #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin drabbles #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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purplecoffee13 · 3 months

Text

Nemesis with Benefits - Part 4*

Keep me awake, buy me a coffee

Summary: “You go on a horrible date, and there’s only one address that pops in your mind when you think about blowing off some steam…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warnings: SMUT, degradation kink (kinda), use of sex toy(🤭), bit of bondage, tiny bit of jealousy/possessiveness

A/N: I passed my exam and in celebration I have written for you this new part of Nemesis with Benefits chapter! Hope y’all like it😋

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

"And so, he said he couldn't get it, so I had to get my brother's car and drive an hour to get the keg!"

You fake a laugh, noticing that the sentence is supposed to be some sort of a punchline. Oscar's eyes twinkle with amusement at the sound of your fake giggles, and you have to do your best not to shiver at his prideful nod.

It has been three weeks since Tyler's party, and since... the events that occurred in Tyler's bedroom. Afterwards, you had picked up your life as usual, convinced that the itch was scratched and you could go back to more important things.

However, the memories of that night resurfaced your mind every single fucking day, like clockwork. Some nights you'd give in, bringing yourself to an orgasm with the help of your vibrator, but most nights you pushed the sinful thoughts down as far as possible. It made you less fun to be around, though. A bit snappy, huffing and puffing about every little thing that didn't work like you wanted it to.

So, when Benjamin suggested to set you up with this guy he knew, you couldn't agree quicker. You didn't quite care if you would get a love match out of it, you were mainly hoping for a good fuck.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to be on the program tonight. The guy, Oscar, was the biggest fucking bore you had ever met.

Okay, maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration. He has his interests... or better said interest: drinking beer. Every story he has told so far this evening is about drinking in some kind of way. He doesn't tell any jokes, he just says the ends of his sentences a bit louder and waits for you to laugh on cue. After about three stories, you caught on.

So far, you're on story number six, and he has not yet asked one thing about you. This date is a bust, you're going to have to admit defeat.

"Excuse me for just a minute, I'm gonna go to the bathroom." You say with a polite smile, sneakily grabbing your phone as you stand up and walk away to the toilets.

Once you're out of Oscar's sight, you hurry to the bathroom and quickly get into a stall. Unlocking your phone, your fingers work fast to get to Rebecca's name and click on 'call'. You put the phone to your ear, waiting for her to answer. She is quite quick, answering you in just a few seconds.

"'Sup girl, how's the date?" She asks casually.

"Unfortunately, he's got the personality of a wet sock. I'm gonna need you to fake an emergency, please?"

"Oh my god, is it that bad?"

"I can't listen to one more second of this guy's stories. All he talks about is beer! I mean, I like myself a beer, but you can't possibly fill up an hour and a half of stories about beer!" You exclaim, making Rebecca giggle.

"I'll call you in five minutes."

With a bit more hope, you walk back to the table, and brace yourself to be bored with another beer story. You almost laugh to yourself when Oscar, like you predicted, brings up another story of the time where he drank almost half of the keg and puked in the bushes. With your jaw clenched, you lay down your fork, having lost your appetite entirely. This is the worst fucking date ever.

You count down the seconds until the phone rings, and your heartbeat rises in excitement when it does. You fake a frown, telling Oscar that you need to pick up really quick. The second you answer the call, a string of screaming and crying sounds from the other side of the line.

You should have known that Rebecca would go all out, she's a theatre major after all, but it still throws you off a bit. Holding in your laugh, you put a bit of your own acting skills to use.

"Rebecca?! What— what's up?" You hold the phone closer to your ear again. She cries out something along the lines of 'He cheated on me!'. You glance at Oscar, who is positively terrified. Mission accomplished, you think.

"Stay where you are, okay? I'm on my way!" You say as you get up from your seat, grabbing your purse. Rebecca says something else about wanting to die, and after that you hang up.

"I'm so sorry, I've got to go. This was fun, text me." You spit out before speed walking towards the exit. You hear Oscar shout out how he doesn't have your number, but you act like you don't hear him.

The second you are outside, you dial Rebecca again. Like before, she immediately picks up.

"Did it work?"

"Yes, you're a genius, thank you!" You smile, looking around to see if maybe there's a taxi near. "Now I just need to get out of here before he catches up with me or something."

"I already called an Uber for you."

You let out a dreamy sigh. "Are you an angel sent from heaven?"

"Actually, yes, I am." Rebecca jokes, and the two of you chuckle. "No but seriously, it's not big deal. It should be there now I think. It's a black Volvo."

And as if on cue, a car matching the description pulls up in front of you. You put your hand up, signaling that the driver is here for you, and walk towards the door.

"Thank you so much babe."

"No problem. Debrief tomorrow?" She asks as you slide into the car and silently greet the driver.

"Yes, over lunch?"

"Sounds good, I'll text you tomorrow. Love you."

"Okay, love you, bye." You say before hanging up the phone. The driver turns around, asking where you want to go. You give him your address, and he begins driving. It is quite a drive from your place and from campus, this restaurant.

You look out the window, reeling the ridiculously bad date. You're a bit disappointed; you were really hoping to have a fun night tonight. Sighing, you look at your phone screen, allowing a forbidden thought to crawl to the front of your mind.

After fiddling with you hands for about five minutes, going back and forth with your stance on your own idea, you make a decision. Swallowing, you unlock your phone and go to your message app.

You

Where r u?

The realization kicks in your mind the second you send the message. What the fuck are you doing? You go back to the chat, holding your finger on the message to delete it, but then you see three dots.

+1-334-555-0383

Home, why?

You

Text me ur address

+1-334-555-0383

Why?

You stare at the word he sent you for a couple of seconds. You scoff. As if he doesn't know why you are texting him right now. You think for a bit, deciding on what to send him.

You

I want my panties back

*****************************************

It doesn't take long after you've banged on Harry's door that he opens it. He wears a smirk on his face, his signature look it seems. He likes this, the fact that you're going to give in. Technically, you already have, but you aren't going to admit that.

He doesn't say anything, merely stepping aside to let you in. You stride into his apartment, letting your eyes fly over the apartment. It is not what you expected at all. The boring beige and grey colors you had imagined would dominate the color palette of his living room is instead a navy blue. There is nothing grey about this place at all.

Nevertheless, you ignore all the things you want to say about his apartment, and turn around, hands on your hips.

"So?" You shrug, insinuating for him to give you your panties back. You both know it's not what you're here for, and Harry raises his eyebrows, as if having accepted the challenge to see whoever can hold up this act the longest.

"It's probably somewhere in the panty drawer."

"You have a panty drawer?" You frown, disgusted with him even having such a concept.

"Women always seem to leave them here." He says, casually strolling towards his bedroom. You follow him with a sigh. Entering his bedroom, you try your best not to look so surprised over how beautiful it is. The deeper shade of dark blue that coats the walls looks very pretty in comparison to the light bedding, curtains and other furniture.

When you turn around, you see your panties in Harry's hand. He holds it out for you to grab, but pulls away just when you try to do so. You give him a pointed look, but he doesn't seem to care. The second attempt to snatch the panties from his grip fails as well, and you find yourself groaning in frustration.

"Stop being a fucking dick." You bark at him.

"Fine." He shrugs. You reach for the panties again, but Harry catches your worst with his free hand. His eyes search yours. "Tell me why you really came here, and I'll give you your panties back."

"I came here to get my panties." You say through gritted teeth, blood rising to your cheeks. The touch of Harry's fingers on your wrist heats your skin up even more than his infuriating actions do.

"Try again." He grins, dimples showing and everything.

"I came here to get my panties." You repeat, glaring at him with nothing but fury behind your eyes. He throws the panties behind him, and they land back on his drawer.

"See, I think you're lying." Harry says, stepping a bit closer to you. You lose your breath at the proximity, and you feel like you might start sweating. Harry notices, and smirks, pressing his thumb into your wrist. "I can feel your heartbeat, you know."

You huff, not sure you're able to keep this up any longer. Harry lets go of your wrist and sneaks his hand around your neck instead. You feel the blood pumping through your veins as he leads you backwards towards his bed.

"I think you're a little bit frustrated. You couldn't get me out of your system, so now you're here to beg for my cock." His low voice vibrates through the room before he pushes you onto the bed, standing over you. "Did I guess that right?"

When you don't answer, Harry scoffs.

"Fine, you won't mind if I find out for myself, will you?" He asks, pushing your legs apart. You obey him silently, shaking your head. You refuse to admit defeat, but you're afraid that the second his fingers touch your pussy, it'll be game over.

Harry's fingers slowly trail up your leg, taking his time with his victory. You hold your breath, the pounding of your heart making it feel like it might jump out of your chest, as you stubbornly hold his stare. His fingers wrap around your panties and gently pull them down, the smirk on his face only growing the further the panties are pulled down your legs.

The cool air that hits your cunt nearly makes you shiver, but you resist the urge, and focus on maintaining the last shred of dignity you have by holding up that poker face of yours.

You watch Harry observe your pussy, as if it is the first time he's ever seen it. Despite knowing that he is dragging this out to tease you, you can't help but ball your fists in anticipation of what he's going to do or say. When Harry's eyes flick up to yours again, you let out a hint of a sigh.

"Well, well, look who's turning out to be a liar." He says cockily, tongue running against his cheek. Your face remains stoic, and you refuse to say anything. "What am I going to do with this, hmm?"

He looks at you for a few seconds, a thought running through his mind. Then, he suddenly walks away from you and to his closet. You lean on your elbow to sit up a bit, trying to see what the hell he is doing. When he turns around, he is holding a small box. Your eyes widen when you see the picture on the box.

"Are you open to trying out this toy?" He asks, nearing you again.

"I'm not going to put a vibrating egg inside of me that has already been inside of like seventeen other people." You argue, shaking your head in disagreement. Harry quirk up an eyebrow, the right corner of his mouth tugging up.

"Seventeen is an oddly specific number." He notes, and you roll your eyes. Of course that is what he pays attention to.

"It's the first number that came to mind." You reply, unimpressed by his attempt to seem funny. He laughs softly, putting the box down beside you.

"It's new, I just bought it. It's not even out of the plastic wrapping yet." He tells you as you scan the box. The shiny plastic coat around the box makes you believe he is indeed telling the truth. You think it over for a second, still not entirely sure.

"Why'd you buy it?"

Harry shrugs. "Well, technically I didn't buy it. The website had this deal about getting an extra secret toy, or something. I honestly don't really remember, truth be told I was kind of high when I ordered it."

You sigh, your lips cracking into an unavoidable smile. Of course he orders sex toys while he's high, the bloody idiot.

"Okay, yes. I've always wanted to try it."

Harry looks pleased with your answer, and he is quick to return to business. "Alright then, get further onto the bed and lean your head against the headboard."

Your stomach bubbling with excitement, you crawl towards the headboard and wait until Harry comes walking over with a belt. When he signals for you to give him your wrists, you don't hesitate to do so, biting your lip impatiently as he ties your wrists above your head.

You wait for him to put the batteries in the toy and test it out on his hands—which seems like it takes forever—before he finally saunters back to you. He sits down on the side of the bed, and brings his hand down to your cunt, inspecting it with his own digits.

You gasped out at the sudden contact, not having expected it to be so much and out of practically nowhere. Without a word, he pushes a finger inside of you. You try to catch up with your breathing but it is hard with Harry pumping his finger in and out of you, especially when he decides to add another one.

The frown that paints your face and expresses the emotion that your shut eyes can't portray, have Harry picking up his pace a bit. The squelching sound of your wetness only increases with every time he sticks his fingers inside your hole, but you manage to keep quiet despite the immense pleasure that makes you want to scream out.

It is only when Harry removes his finger that a slight whimper falls from your lips, and Harry feels the immediate results of it: tighter pants. Figuring you are wet enough now, he grabs the toy from his lap and brings it to your pussy.

"'M gonna put it in now, okay?" He announces. You squeak out an 'okay' and watch as Harry lets the toy disappear inside of you, filling you up ever so slightly. He softly restrains your legs from closing, watching in awe at how your chest rises and falls at the hand of your breathing.

"You okay?" He asks when he's put the toy all the way in. Your heavy eyes fight to stay open as you answer him with a soft 'yes'. He nods, looks down at the remote in his hands, and gets up from the bed. Your eyes trace his every movement, heart pounding at the thought of what his next step could possibly be.

He walks over to his dresser, and grabs the panties which you came to retreat in the first place. He turns around and stalks back to you, standing in front of you now on the end of the bed. One hand in his pocket, the other one holding your panties.

"You wanted these, right?" He asks. You nod, and open your mouth to respond, but the feel sudden vibrations cause you to let out nothing but a string of moans.

"I asked you a question." Harry taunts you, walking over to you. "Did you want these?"

The chance at an answer is interrupted once again by the increasing speed of the toy, and you shriek out at the intense feeling of it. Your body squirms, and you feel yourself getting fed up by these stupid games Harry is playing.

"Alright then, let me ask you a different question. Why did you come here? Honest answers this time." He warns, sitting down next to you again. He strokes your shaking leg. You take a deep breath.

"I was on a date." You confess. As soon as the sentence has left your mouth, the rhythm changes. Your hips buck at the sudden switch. Harry, with his jaw clenched, nods at your honest answer.

"Doesn't explain why you're here." He replies nonchalantly. You sigh in frustration.

"I— I needed... I was frustrated, and I thought he could help me, but he couldn't." You say, hoping he's catching onto what you're saying. From the look on Harry's face, it seems that he does.

"So you came to me to relieve that frustration? How sweet..." He concludes arrogantly. You can't put him in his place, though, because that's exactly why you came here.

You don't expect him to add his thumb to your clit for extra stimulation, but he does. You cry out his name along with a few profanities at the increased pleasure, especially now that he's changed the speed to its maximum.

"Hmm, just this once, that's what you said, right?" He taunts, pressing his thumb down a bit harder, leaving you nothing but a whimpering mess under him. You lower your arms unconsciously, but Harry pushes them back.

"Wish you could see yourself, tied up and crying for me like the desperate slut you truly are. Knew you'd come running back, begging for my cock. Knew one time wouldn't be enough for you." The filthy words fall from his lips so easily, as if second nature to him. It sounds so good with the combination of his voice and accent. The degrading words bring you to the edge, and his fingers push you right over it.

"Ah, shit! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" You whimper, eyes shut as your entire body moving along with the aftershocks of your orgasm. While still coming down from your orgasm, you hear the faint sound a belt unbuckling, but you only open your eyes when you feel the bed dip.

You watch in awe as Harry leans over you, and hiss when he takes out the egg. He puts it on the nightstand along with the remote before aligning his hard, bare cock with your wet hole. And just like that, he pushes himself into you.

You wince at the change of size, breathing deeply as he enters himself entirely. It is easy to slide in considering how drenched you are, but you still have to get used to his girth again. Harry sighs at how tight your pussy feels around his cock, uttering out some curse words as he lets you adjust to him. And then, he begins to move.

"Shit, you’re so big… it feels so good." You pant, your eyes fluttering shut. Your senses are entirely focused on the way Harry is building up his pace inside of you and his lingering touch on the rest of your body. He is everywhere; he massages your tits, grazes his fingers over your thigh, and grips at your waist.

"I know baby, just the way you needed, hmm? Worth breaking the one-time rule, isn't it?"

"F-fuck... yes Harry."

"Glad you came to your senses and called me, sweetheart. Not like that guy could've satisfied you the way you needed." He cockily remarks, and it almost feels like the comment is more for himself than to you.

"Maybe he can." You decide to stir the pot. Your core flutters at the low chuckle that leaves Harry's mouth. He pulls himself almost all the way out of you, before he thrusts into you with way more force. You moan loudly at the feeling of him reaching your g-spot.

"No he can't, sweetheart. Otherwise you wouldn't have texted me after your shitty little date, begging to be fucked dumb by me." He says, resuming to deeply thrust into you. You have lost nearly any ability to truly form coherent sentences, only borderline pornographic moans managing to escape you. Your face is curled up, and you clench your fists together.

"Fuck you—" is all you manage to croak out.

"I am fucking you, baby. And you love it so much, I can tell you’re close. Are you gonna do it, baby? You gonna soak the cock of the guy you hate most?" Harry teases you with his words, but his fingers are back on your clit. It doesn't take long after his touch reaches your most sensitive nub before you begin to spasm under him. A long string of high pitched whines accompany to euphoric orgasm that overcomes you.

Instead of slowing down, Harry begins to chase his own orgasm, driven by the way you are clenching around him, and picks up his pace. The sound of your bodies clashing against each other and your panted moans are like music forming a symphony and you can't quite fathom how good the two of you sound together. During sex, that is, not in any other situation.

"You fuck me so good, Harry. I hate it." You confess, still woozy from your orgasm and how deeply Harry is driving into you right now. Not even a few seconds later, Harry's hips still, and he lets out the sexiest groan you have ever heard in your life. He falls over you, catching himself with his hands. He keeps himself and his seed buried inside of you as he tries to steady his breathing and looks at you, curls hanging in front of your face. A smile creeps on both your lips.

"So... can I have my panties back?" You joke, and Harry laughs accordingly. A silence follows soon after, one in which Harry pulls himself out of you, unties your wrists, and carries you to the bathroom to clean you up.

Afterwards, you walk back to the bedroom together, where Harry puts you back on the bed and tells you to wait there while he grabs you some water. You obey, but your eyes fall shut by accident.

When Harry returns, he sees you, lying on your side with your eyes closed, breathing deeply. For a second he thinks about walking you up, but it quickly dawns on him that he doesn't really feel the need to do that. He has tired you out quite a bit, and he's already seen you naked, so what does a few hours of sleeping next to each other really matter?

*****************************************

*The next morning*

It was quite the shock to open your eyes and realize you weren't lying in your own bed. It had come back to you swiftly, the events of last night, and you were quite disturbed with the fact that a smile was the first bodily reaction you had to the memory.

You didn't want any unnecessary drama or awkward conversations, so you decided to sneak out.

Now, on your way home with the bus, that same smile paints your face again, that is until you are interrupted by the ringing of your phone. You immediately pick up when you see Rebecca's name.

"Hey, how are you?" She asks once you've greeted her.

"Good. Better, knowing that I am never ever going to date again." You exaggerate, mainly for fun.

"Don't say that! You'll be fine." She urges, her voice letting her gentleness shine through like it always does. "Anyways, I wanted to ask, where are we having lunch?"

"Uhm, how about that new place across your street?" You suggest, and Rebecca contests in an agreeing hum.

"Sounds good!”

You smile. “Okay, then I’ll meet you there at… twelve?”

“Perfect, and then you can tell me why you didn’t go home last night.” She says, and you can tell she’s holding back her laugh, but your face pales entirely. When you don’t respond, she’s quick to continue. “I saw that the Uber ride ended on some street near campus, so you definitely didn’t spend the night home right?”

You take a deep breath, a thousand possible lies running through your brain as you think of a response.

“I’ll tell you over lunch.” You finally say, and distance your ear from the microphone at the sound of a high pitched squeal coming from the other line. You giggle at your friends’ enthusiasm, but your stomach is heavy with the weight of this blown up lie.

After that night at the party, you thought, that would be that. You’d never hook up with Harry Styles ever again, and the event would be erased from your memory. Although, it didn’t exactly, as you thought about it every night, but you didn’t expect yourself to do this kind of shit. And the worst thing is, it feels too good to stop. You don’t want this to be the last time.

So, you better think of some elaborate lie to tell Rebecca.

Your head shoots back to your phone screen when it lights up and the familiar ping of a text sounds through the bus. You lower your volume and unlock your phone to see who texted you this early in the morning.

+1-334-555-0383

You forgot your panties again

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scififettuccine · 3 months

Text

A Wild Fix: Part 2

Pairing: Frenchie x Reader

Summary: The day of the dreaded Supe Convention is finally here. After being paired with Frenchie for your part of the mission, you run into some unexpected conspiracies with some unexpected people.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Homelander, mentions of suicide, mentions of suffocation, Supes being Supes, not proofread (they never are)

Notes: Omg guys look at me being fancy and trendy and cool with the photo header >:)....(Please don't make fun of me I'm a writer not an editor, I tried my best okay?) Anyway here's part 2! Finally posting it after a lot of deliberation, but I hope it was worth the wait! Lots of description in this one, I'm proud of myself 💪 Here's Part 1.5 if you missed it. Big plans for part three, enjoy <3

The day of the Supe convention approached fairly quickly. You would be lying if you said that you hadn't been losing sleep over it. The whole situation was sort of a tightrope walk. If you went to the convention with The Boys, it was bound to end badly. Like you had mentioned to Butcher, it was a suicide mission. But if you told Butcher no, there was a possibility of losing the group as a whole. For better or for worse, they had been the only people in your corner since you joined The Seven…the only thing keeping you stable. As much as you hated that basement…it had become more of a home to you than the tower, even with Frenchie’s irritating presence. You had lost a lot of things in life. A lot of important things. You knew, even if you didn't want to admit it, that you were not stable enough to lose anything else. The outcome of the convention, at least in your mind, would be grim regardless of whether you worried or not. But you couldn't risk losing them, not when they were the only thing close to family that you’d had since…well since you could remember. Calling them family seemed stupid, as you’d only known them for about a month and a half. But truthfully? You didn't know what else to call them. No word seemed good enough.

Butcher had informed Annie of the plan, and the three of you had gotten together to discuss how dangerous the whole ordeal was. Butcher, of course, didn’t care. So, like clockwork, when the day arrived, everyone was informed of the base plan, and ready to go. You and Annie had shuttled into the casino turned convention center with the rest of The Seven, as was planned. The ride was tense and awkward, as it usually was when all of you were together. No one except for you and Annie were really friends, but of course Homelander tried to make it seem like you were. Unfortunately, you got the privilege of sitting across from him on the way there. He tried to create conversation, and you played into it, scared of what would happen if you didn’t. You two hadn’t gotten off to a great start, due to the fact that you had talked back, and he had choked the fear of his every movement into you. And ever since Butcher had info dumped about all the things he had done? You were even more careful around him. The conversation was bland small talk, not exactly focused on anything. You were honestly sort of drifting into space until he mentioned something that caught your attention.

“You’re young, right? You like music?” He asked, his sickeningly white smile on full display. You tried your best not to make a face, unsure of where he was going with it.

“I’m 27… and yeah. Yeah, I like music.” You responded, your fingers moving idly to crack your knuckles one by one. Homelander tilted his head ever so slightly before his gaze shot down to your hands. But as quickly as he had looked, he made eye contact with you once again.

“You know that guy, Mixer? He’s performing at the convention. Feisty little thing, I’ve met him on a few occasions. I remember the day he was signed on to the company.” Homelander paused, chuckling. “He was nothing, then. Fresh out of highschool. The kid could barely look me in the eyes…Now he’s dominating the music industry, with shitty pop but…Still dominating. Funny how those things work out, huh?” He asked. You nodded, glancing over at Annie for support. You didn’t have a clue how any of this was relevant, and you honestly didn’t know how to respond. Annie looked back at you and gave an encouraging smile. What a help she is, you thought.

“I met him at this convention a few years ago, right before he joined Residency.” You informed. Homelander audibly scoffed when you mentioned the team.

“Residency? They’re a PR nightmare in the making. It’s such a strange mix of people, too. I never understood where the inspiration came from.” He chuckled.

“Weren't they kinda supposed to mimic Payback to an extent?” You asked, genuinely curious. He waved a dismissive hand.

“Payback was a PR nightmare too. Come on! I mean, one death and the whole team dispands? Where's the strength in that? This is America! Keep fighting until you can't fight anymore. That’s what I always say.” His disgusting, distorted sense of patriotism always made you nauseous. The man was a blatant white supremacist, and saw the country like it was some holy land. The ideals itself weren't the most sickening part…it was the fact that he wholeheartedly believed them., to the point of influencing others to do the same.

“Yeah…Yeah.” You chuckled awkwardly, putting your hand over your heart, and shaking the other fist in the air. “Land of the free.” With that cringeworthy comment, the conversation sort of died off, ironically just in time for you all to head into the convention center. You and Annie had a few things to handle first, but you had already given The Boys their passes, so they could get an early start.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It was around lunch time when you and Annie met up with the rest of the group. You had decided to grab a bite to eat at one of the restaurants in the casino. Everything was open and being paid for by Vought, which was honestly one of the nicer parts of the convention.

“Oi. Listen up.” Butcher started, cutting through the small talk once he finally finished his food. “I say we split up into groups, yeh? Divide and conquer. There’s an even number of us, which makes it an easy split.” He scanned the group with his eyes. “MM and Annie, you take the arcade floor, all levels.” He pointed to Hughie. “Hughie and meself will take the shopping center…” His eyes fell on you, and he chuckled ever so slightly. You weren't even paying attention, too engrossed in the pasta you were eating. “Oi, marinara face.” He called, trying to get you attention. You instinctively looked up and wiped your face, figuring you were being messy.

“Sorry…” You grumbled.

“You and Frenchie take the theaters. Go sit in on as many presentations as possible, and bring back anything of interest.” You almost groaned when he paired you with Frenchie. There were four other people for fucks sake, and he knew for a fact that you two didn’t get along. You looked over at Frenchie, narrowing your eyes ever so slightly. He didn't look too happy about it, either, rolling his eyes as he pushed his plate away from him. He muttered to himself in French when he stood up. From what you had gathered over hearing it often, it wasn’t the most accurate.

“Right. That settles it. You know your tasks. Meet back here around…” Butcher looks down to his watch. “3:30-4:00 yeh?” Everyone exchanged one last ‘good luck’ before splitting up, leaving you with Frenchie. The two of you stood in awkward silence for a good minute, before you reluctantly broke it.

“Of course he would task us with sitting through the boring stuff.” You joked weakly, hoping he’d laugh. He did, but it wasn’t genuine, strained too. Neither of you really had a reason to be nice to the other, in all honesty. All you ever did was insult each other. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jackets before speaking.

“Oui. Let’s get it over with, then?” He asked, finally meeting your gaze. He was glaring daggers at you. That pissed you off. You were trying to be civil, at least long enough to get through the night. But when he looked at you like that? Like he wasn’t even trying? You glared daggers right back at him. The tension between the two was frustrating, partly because you couldn't figure out what type of tension it was.

“Lets.” You responded, your tone unreadable. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could get away from him.

Upon inspection of the schedule that had been sent to you on your phone, the first event happening in the theater on the first floor was a presentation of Vought’s assets, given by one of the higher ups from the company. Not much info would come from that, you figured, but you wouldn't know unless you sat through it. You turned your head in Frenchie’s direction as the two of you walked out of the restaurant and towards the theater.

“The first presentation starts in forty minutes. It's nothing exciting but it wouldn’t hurt to sit in and listen.” As you waited for Frenchie to respond, you realized your inside hand was a little too close to his. You pulled it away ever so slightly and moved to put your hand in your pocket. Frenchie nodded in response, not seeming too interested. You shouldn’t have let that tick you off…but you did.

“Listen dude. If you’re gonna be an asshole all day you can go do something else. I can handle this myself.” You said, your tone sharper than intended. Frenchie scoffed and rolled his eyes, looking over at you.

“I did not say anything!” Frenchie protested. “Did my nodding offend you that much?”

“It was the inflection.” You huffed, rolling your eyes in return.

“Mmm…Oui. The inflection.” He said mockingly. At that point? It was no use fighting with him, so instead of coming up with a witty retort, you looked around the casino. The line outside the door to the theater was already a bit long, and very colorful. Most Supes wore their uniform suits to the convention, so you could pick out almost everyone, at least those who were signed with Vought. Your eyes fell on a few old friends you had gone through the scouting process with, some people you had met at the last convention, and then an extremely familiar color scheme to a certain Supe’s suit that stuck out like a sore thumb. A bright white ensemble that stood out in a sea of colors…one that belonged to the Supe, Laugh Track, one of the Supes you had mentioned to Butcher.

Laugh Track was another member of Residency, one you were not particularly fond of. You had never personally met the guy, but something about him was just…unsettling. He was rather tall, not as tall as Playback, but almost a head above Mixer. Build wise, he was lanky, at least from what you could see. His Supe suit mainly consisted of a white jacket that resembled those worn in asylums on television, almost a straight jacket, but with control of his arms. There was no visible zipper, and the jacket’s collar went all the way up his neck. His mannerisms were always strange, which was sort of on brand for him. His powers were described as “weaponized hysteria.” It was just a fancy way of saying that his contagious laughter made people go absolutely insane, or at least laugh until they turned blue and suffocated. Laugh Track always stood very stiffly, and usually had a very blank expression on his face, his eyes wide and observant. You’d heard him speak in commercials before, and his voice didn't necessarily ease the feeling of dread you felt when you saw him. He had a strange accent, almost British, but not quite. It was very breathy and weirdly persuasive. He wasn’t unattractive by any means. He had neatly kept bleach blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin…Something was just off.

Laugh Track was standing towards the end of the line, eerily still, his hands, which were covered in little bandages, twitching ever so slightly at his sides. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could only assume that they were darting around the room. You looked over at Frenchie, who was coincidentally already looking in your direction, his mouth slightly open, as if he was about to say something. You shook off the strange feeling that filled your chest and gestured to Laugh Track.

“Do you see the way his hands are twitching?” You asked, purposefully going out of your way to not look directly at Frenchie. Why the hell was he already looking at you? Was he staring or something? Frenchie looked over to the Supe, his eyes narrowing.

“Maybe he has a tremor. Rude to judge him for it, non?” You huffed and looked back to Frenchie, a less than amused expression on your face. You went to go say something else, but your ears perked up when you heard a familiar voice.

“Roman! There you are. I was looking all over for you.” The voice belonged to the man who was arguably the talk of the whole convention, Mixer. Frenchie followed your gaze and looked over at him too. Mixer originally had a Supe suit as well, but ever since he got popular and became more of a poster child than a Supe, he sort of just wore the stylish shit he wore on stage. On that particular day, the outfit consisted of a sleeveless black t-shirt with his logo on it, and ripped black cargo pants with a bunch of adornments hanging off of them. You had to admit, he knew how to dress. The shirt showed off his tattooed arms, and was tight enough that you could see the outline of his chest. After the slight shock of Mixer just appearing in front of you, you added his comment to your mental index. He called Laugh Track “Roman.” That must have been his legal name.

“I haven’t moved since the last time you saw me.” Laugh Track responded, his breathy voice mixed with the accent making you slightly nauseous. Mixer laughed and playfully nudged Laugh Track’s shoulder.

“I figured you would have gone to get a drink or something.” Mixer smirked and nudged his knee with a bottle of Dr Pepper. Laugh Track turned his head towards Mixer, which gave you a moment to catch a glimpse of his smile. It was…unsettling. Disturbing, even, he looked almost manic. But Mixer? He just tilted his head, and smiled sweetly back at him.

“I told you that I wasn’t thirsty.” The taller man let out a chuckle that honestly made you want to walk away. It was so unnerving, yet Mixer didn't seem affected at all. You and Frenchie made eye contact for a moment, before looking back to the two Supes. Frenchie looked just as uncomfortable as you.

“I know you did, but this thing is going to be long. And if we intend to get the info that he wants us to get, you can't be running on nothing.”

You played that sentence back in your head for a moment. The info that he wanted them to get? Who was “He”? And why were other people at this convention also digging for information? Especially people like Mixer. He had it made in the shade, what else would he need to know?

“You are being very loud about this. Hush.” Laugh Track said, taking the bottle of soda from Mixer’s hand. Mixer laughed softly and nodded.

“Right, right. My bad.” Before Laugh Track could respond, the doors to the theater opened, and the line started to move. “Remember, seats closest to the under-stage door on the left side of the theater. He said they should be reserved.” Mixer reminded as the two started walking, their shoulders practically glued together.

“Yes. Under-stage door on the left side of the theater, stage right in perspective of the presenter, reserved seats.” Laugh Track responded. You and Frenchie exchanged a look as the Supe’s in front of you had their lanyard passes scanned, and walked into the theater. As your own passes were scanned, Frenchie leaned over to you.

“Let's follow them and try to sit as close as we can get, oui?” He suggested. You nodded. That actually wasn’t a half bad idea.

“Good idea.” You responded. You could have sworn that you saw Frenchie smirk. The two of you kept a safe distance away from Laugh Track and Mixer as you made your way into the theater, but made sure you didn't lose sight of them. The flow of the crowd pushed you and Frenchie closer together, but in the heat of the task, you didn't really notice.

Maybe this presentation wouldn't be so useless after all.

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

Sorta kinda leaving you on a cliff hanger there if ya squint. I really like where this is headed and I'm very excited to start writing part 3. Lemme know what you think! Full disclosure I laughed harder than I should have at the “Land of the free” comment so I hope it made you chuckle. Adieu!

teeny tiny taglist: @llynx7 @stinkysam @xcryptk33p3rx

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intimidating-fettuccine · 2 months

Note

Can I request yandere Jason, Jeff and Sully with a Y/N who during one of them attempts to escape suffered an accident and lost their memory?

they dont remember anything, not even that their kidnapped.

Okay I was so, so excited when you sent this in I need you to know that. However, I now can't repeating "they had amneesssiiaaaa" to myself cause of this silly video my partner showed me about video games where they keep repeating that and it's very funny and I'm gonna link it here even though it's very unrelated

You were so close to freedom, so close to finally getting away from your captor. You'd worked so hard to plan your escape, including the memorized route you'd take to get out of there while he was distracted, leaving you plenty of time to leave. You could taste your freedom on your tongue as you sprinted through the woods, left, right, left, right, right, but before your final left on the path, you'd gotten too tired, and you'd tripped on a stray tree root, falling and slamming your head quite hard onto the root of a separate tree, rendering you unconscious. You could have been out for just a few minutes, or even a few hours, but it gave your captor enough time to track you and find you, hovering over you as you finally peeled your eyes open. He expected you to cry or beg for forgiveness, but you didn't. No, you could only blink up at him in confusion and ask, "Who are you?"

Jason:

Jason thinks this must be some sort of blessing from above, some kind of repayment for all of his years of suffering. The two of you before your last attempted escape were most certainly not where he wanted you to be in your relationship, but now you have no memory of that, no memory at all. This has to be the best thing to ever happen to him, to happen to the two of you. He took advantage of your amnesia immediately, without even a hint of guilt in his mind. He'd told you that he was your dearest husband, that the two of you had been on a little walk and you'd fallen and must have bumped your head too hard. He gently escorted you home, and you were so quick to trust him that he couldn't help but internally laugh. In the coming days, he would continue planting seeds in your mind, about how you've always been incredibly loving and affectionate toward him, that you like it when he touches you whenever he wants, that you allow him to force you into whatever kind of situation he wants.

You go along with it with that adorably innocent look on your face because you just don't know any better. He never falters, convincing you to become his little doll just as he's always wanted you to be, it's so much fun for him, and it makes him so happy, and because he's so happy, you're so happy as well. Of course, the thought crosses his mind that maybe one day you'll remember the truth, but he reaches a conclusion to that easily; if you regain your memories, well, he can just cause you some head trauma again! Just enough force to make you have amnesia again, and he can start all over as many times as it takes because now that he knows what it's like to have all of your love and attention, he's not giving it up ever again. You're just the cutest little toy, and he'll do whatever he can to keep you that way, keep you being so loving and sweet and wonderful, no matter what your slowly returning memories try and convince you of, he'll win in the end.

Jeff:

Jeff is going to be the one to most easily fuck it up, that much is obvious, but he tries his best. Yandere Jeff has no control over himself or his emotions, as much as he tries to, and his anger issues are much worse than they are in normal Jeff. See, Jeff doesn't even believe you at first, thinks you're playing a trick on him and he yells at you for it, but when you react with more fear than usual a part of him realizes that perhaps this is the truth, and he stops and apologizes, not wanting to waste the opportunity he has here. He tells you that he's your partner and that you had gone on a walk by yourself and gotten lost, that he was coming to find you, and that you must have tripped and hit your head. You hesitate, but you accept his outstretched hand and follow him home, unknowingly walking right back into the hell you'd been trying so hard to get away from. Your time spent with Jeff isn't as bad as it had been, as he's trying so desperately to not fuck this chance up, but you're naturally suspicious of him due to his clear uncontrolled temper.

He doesn't hit you anymore, because he knows that will definitely fuck everything up, but sometimes he can't help but yell at you when you do something he perceives as wrong (because you've forgotten all of the ridiculous rules he had set), and so he does his best to remind you of them, forcing apologies out of his throat. It never crossed his mind that you could get your memories back, but with the repeated tone and threats he'd always used before, things started to come back to your mind, memories that had been sealed away by your fall, and the more he forces himself on you, his lips, his hands, his body, the more you grow internally hesitant, and the less you believe the lies he's spewing. It's only inevitable that one day you'll try and escape again, but only because you don't know the true extent of his violence, and he won't hold back next time, no, next time his gentleness with you will fade permanently.

Sully:

The look of fear in your eyes is one he's familiar with, but the confusion you throw at him is most certainly not, so Sully hesitates as he goes to pick you up and bring you back. When yandere, Liu and Sully are flipped, as Liu is the incredibly manipulative one who forces you to be there, and Sully is the soft sweet, and gentle guardian who looks out for you. Sully always follows Liu's orders, always restrains you, and makes sure you remain there, but now... Now he could finally save you, he could let you get away, but at the same time, he fears what Liu might do to you if he has to hunt you down all over again, and his fear of Liu wins out. He explains that he's your partner (one of two, as he explains his situation with Liu), and he takes you back home. He looks out for you this time, however, preparing you for what's to come. He tells you what Liu is like, tells you how to behave (as the two of them don't share memories), and he makes sure you're ready.

He leaves a note for Liu that you have amnesia, and so Liu is none the wiser when he sees you for the first time after your accident and suddenly you're all lovey-dovey with him. However, the one you truly fall for is Sully. Whenever it's Sully you're with he's always trying to help you regain your memories, always trying to do the right thing, and he's so obviously sweet with you, all of Liu's cunning and manipulation vanishing as Sully tries so hard to help you. If you, amidst your amnesia, play your cards right, you might even be able to convince Sully to help you escape next time. At least, so long as Liu doesn't catch on to what's happening. If he does, Liu might just have to hide you away somewhere secret, somewhere Sully won't be able to find you and protect you. It's up to you to either submit to your fate with them or take a chance and risk it all as both of them grow clingier and clinger with you as they force themselves on you in their own ways.

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even-disco-baby · 2 years

Text

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #the smoker on the balcony #kim kitsuragi #this one is. so self indulgent. i like the smoker i like to think abt him #and assign him my art student interests #anyway. oh the joy of making art and showing ppl what they rlly look like in your eyes #and oh the beauty of monotypes and printmaking and hoping for the best #GODDAMMIT I FUCKED UP THE FORMATTING AGAIN AND DIDNT CATCH IT UNTIL LIKE 12 HOURS LATER.#if you saw that. no you didn’t.

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literaila · 1 year

Note

verity what would you think about writing another peter x reader in which peter becomes a photographer and has to take pictures of reader and he develops a thing for her and he thinks that reader just flirts with him for fun and he's totally okay with that because he's a fool for her but after teasing peter and messing with him for a good amount of time she asks him out ? maybe inspired by "suck it and see" by arctic monkeys? thank you !!

chemistry

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: the science jokes are real with this one

peter needed to get over himself. that much was clear.

honestly, he had the ability to rip out his eyes and throw them down the garbage disposal, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he might have to. just to get some sanity back.

it wasn’t really his fault he was staring at you. no, it wasn’t his fault at all.

he was getting paid to stare at you. you had hired him to do this. to take pictures of you when you looked like this—partially glowing from the light, wearing a devious smile like you might be trying to crack his lens—and not get called a pervert for it.

his movements were automatic now. he’d done this enough—admired strangers and tried to pull the best out of them—but it was never quite like this. with every click of a button, and the perfectly adjusted flash, peter felt himself getting a bit hazy.

it would be his luck to faint while taking pictures of a pretty girl.

a pretty girl who’s head was tilted at him, eyes questioning, because she’d just said something and he was too busy scolding himself to notice

get yourself together.

“hmm?” peter asked, moving a step closer to you. “sorry i missed it.”

you smile like he’s said something funny. “should i try something else?” you say, “i’m not used to posing.”

“you’re doing great. you’re a natural.”

maybe a little too great. you blink at him, eyes darting away and sigh. even then, if peter took a photo, he’s sure it would come out perfectly. he probably wouldn’t need to edit any of these, even.

but he also probably would. just to stare at you some more.

“well, you’re the expert.”

but peter frowns. “are you feeling uncomfortable?”

“just—“ you shake your head. “will you tell me a joke, or something? i feel… awkward. i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“tell you a joke?” peter repeats, slightly amused.

“or just talk to me. anything.”

“sure,” he says, easily, nodding his head a bit too much. maybe it’s because you sort of whispered it, and peter sort of felt it on every single on of his nerve endings. “i, um,” he raises his brows. “i think i just forgot every joke i’ve ever heard.”

you laugh with your head tilted back and he snaps a shot. “just tell me about you, then.”

“me?”

“yes, peter parker, the photographer… and? part time comedian? full time alcoholic? father of six?”

peter frowns. “how old do you think i am?“

“old enough to be a professional photographer.”

“i don’t know if i would call myself a professional…” he winces, smiling a bit and feeling embarrassed for himself. flushed and completely ashamed because he’s usually better at this.

he can calm a clients nerves in five minutes. he can make people laugh and get the candid shot that he knows they’re looking for. he can turn an awkward social interaction into getting drinks after a shoot.

but there’s something about you and your smile, and the easy way you talk, like the words just fall out of your mouth and into place.

“i saw your prints,” you correct, shaking your head at him, “why do you think i hired you?”

“free eye candy?”

and then you actually laugh, chest releasing, and peter watches as your eyes squint at him like you’ve finally realized who you’re talking to.

it’s second nature when he presses the button.

“oh, yeah. i just googled ‘hottest male photographer in queens’ and yours was the first that came up.”

“i knew that ad would pay off eventually.”

“really, though. i’ve only got you for another twenty minutes so you’ve gotta tell me something good.”

peter frowns and moves to your left, changing the zoom on his camera and dimming the light. “i didn’t know you were paying for a gossip session.”

“okay, so you don’t like to talk about yourself. what else?”

he catches you as you adjust your hair, the light shining on the side of your face, gleaming off of you like something out of a sci-fi film.

peter shakes his head—his head is feeling a bit off. “um… i want to get a cat.”

you smile, completely darling and enough to knock a breath out of his chest. “i’ll add caring to the list. why haven’t you?”

“well, my apartment doesn’t really allow it…” he pauses for a moment playing with some settings. the two of you are dancing in circles, like a pendulum, when you move, he moves. “and also i’m not sure that i’d remember to feed it.”

“most animals make sure you remember. when i was a kid my dog would jump on whoever was closest when it was time for dinner.”

peter almost winces, and then catches himself. “i also think i’d poison it with my energy. it’d forget how to move its tail.”

“well, i’ve been around you for almost an hour and a half now and i can safely say that i still have control over all of my limbs.”

“good to know…” peter mutters while frowning at his screen. there’s nothing wrong with his camera, or with you, just with his hands. and his heart.

“everything okay?”

he shakes his head, then nods, clearing his throat. “yeah—yeah. i’m just messing with the settings.”

“are you getting anything good? useable?”

“they’re all good,” he says—to himself and out loud like a complete idiot. and then he looks up, awkwardly laughing. “like i said, you’re a natural.”

“even if you’re lying,” you tease, undeterred by his awkwardness, “i’m sure you’ll fix it all before i see.”

“i’m not lying, but yeah.”

when you smile, he smiles back.

“okay,” you say, moving. “what else? got any friends or family? any plans after this?”

“which question am i supposed to answer?”

“all of them, peter.”

he chuckles. “it’s mostly just me and my aunt. and a couple of long lost cousins. as for friends, i’ve kept in touch with some people from college. oh, and me and the john down the street who makes me a sandwich everyday are close.”

you lift your head, revealing the skin of your neck and jaw to peter. and a fetish he didn’t know he had. “and after this?”

“i’ll probably just go home and edit these, actually.”

“it’s friday.”

he shrugs. squinting at you before the next shot. he’s not even really looking.

“nothing fun?” you ask him. “surely you’ll be sick of my face after this.”

“that’d be hard.”

he watches a sheepish smile reveal itself on your face before it’s gone. you look away. “you’re young, peter. you should be having fun.”

“what are you doing after this?” peter asks, as a challenge.

your brows lift. “this seems like a line.”

he laughs. “not like that.”

you shrug and blink when the flash goes off. “i’ll figure out something. are there any good bars nearby?”

peter pauses, dropping his camera. “are we back to the alcoholic thing.”

“no,” you laugh, “we’re way past that. i just think that your flash is giving me a bit of an adrenaline rush. i could use a calm me down.”

“you okay?”

“i’m kidding, peter. keep going, you’re almost a free man.”

so he does.

you continue to prod him with personal questions, attacking him with your smile and your unsurprisingly sharp wit. you throw his words right back to him, and peter knows, in his deepest of thoughts, that he’s going to be hearing your voice later on.

that when he’s looking back on these pictures, he’s going to see a timeline of your allure, and of his own demise.

he’s already loving and dreading it.

he finishes up by making you laugh from your nose, loud and unprecedented, and so genuinely rewarding that peter has to refrain from clapping himself on the back.

you smile at him as you slip on your jacket, still talking to him, acting too smooth to be just polite.

peter also has to refrain himself from trying to shake your head as he walks you to the door. he tries not to stare any longer, knowing what kind of night he has in store.

“when should i be seeing the pictures?” you ask him, lingering when you finally get to the door.

“sometime next week. i’ll email you a preview with a few different editing styles that you can pick from and then i’ll finish the album.”

“email?”

he scoffs, opening the door for you. “i’ll have you know that not everyone is as young and hip as you. do you know how many grandparents want photos with their family?”

“it just doesn’t seem like you, peter. i’d thought you’d train a carrier pigeon.”

he shakes his head at you, trying to hide his smile.

“but, seriously, thank you so much,” you say to him, voice full and easy, and honest. he can feel your heart and smell your perfume. “i know i’m a lot. especially when i’m nervous.”

“i’m just glad you didn’t ask me about my social security number.”

you reflectively smack yourself on the forehead. “i knew i forgot something.”

peter laughs, letting you slip past him trying to avoid your touch. he doesn’t, and if benjamin franklin was there, he might’ve discovered a whole different type of electricity.

“i’ll talk to you soon,” peter says, and your close enough that it’s almost a whisper. “just let me know if there’s any issues with the pictures, or you have any questions. you’ve got my number.”

“i do.”

his body feels physically repelled from inside the studio, but he forces himself to take a step in anyway. “have a good weekend.”

“you too.”

and then you turn to go, and peter can’t help but stare. he hopes that the tint on the shop windows is enough to keep you from noticing.

but before he can close the door—and mind that it took him an outrageously stupid amount of time—you’re turning back around.

“wait, peter,” you say, voice breathless and jagged. like peters hands as they rush to push open the door again.

it’s embarrassing how quickly he manages to do it.

“yes?”

you smile, like you know exactly what he’s thinking. peter will have that smile branded into his brain.

“do you wanna come with me to get that drink?” you ask him, softly, and wide, with a smile that bursts blood vessels.

peter really needs to get over himself.

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