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andreafmn · 1 year

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Hello I see your taking request again ! I’m so happy It’s been sooo long hope your doing well !?!

Can you write a reader x jasper

Reader is a vampire she has been with the cullens for ever like before Alice and jasper got there !

She’s as cool as a cucumber like no one has ever seen her mad

Well once edwards started seeing Bella and being a diva he makes a comment about jasper and reader loses it like full on throws him through a wall lol

Everyone is super shocked because they’ve never seen her like that and emmitts booming voice in the back round saying well never talk shit about jasper in front of reader again

everyone nods in agreement and jasper just looks at reader and says I love when your defending me love but let’s not put anymore people through a wall and everyone laughs

Word Count: 3K

Story Description: (Y/N) Cullen might be even-tempered and calm by nature. But when it came to her partner, no one gets by unscathed. Not even her own family.

A/N: I know I took forever to post this request, but I always take forever for everything 😅 though I hope you enjoy and that I did your request honor, anon. My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing🥺👉👈. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Karmic Retribution

There were certain unspoken rules to being a Cullen.

One of the worst ones, the oldest made all the decisions. This meant that, more often than not, Carlisle and Edward were the ones to determine the outcome for the family. And to that point, it had been fine. There was never anything truly holding them down to any place in particular, and they could travel any time they wanted.

(Y/N) was fine with that to an extent. She was on the same level as Edward in terms of age, and sometimes she felt she should have more leverage in family decisions than she had. But she had always been quiet, keeping her anger always at bay. And it helped that she had Jasper by her side.

Their connection was almost instantaneous.

When the messy bundle of blond curls walked into their home in Calgary, she knew he’d turn her whole life around. They grew close quickly. Spending almost every moment by each other’s side. (Y/N) could not remember her life before she met Jasper Whitlock. As time passed, the memory of her time without him seemed more and more like a dream rather than her past. To her, he had been there forever.

Though she did not have any special abilities, everything about her was extraordinary to Jasper. She became his lifeline, the only thing to keep him afloat when he felt like drowning. Because most days he felt his head was always just barely above water. Treading on the line between fighting his animalistic instincts and his new family’s peculiar lifestyle.

(Y/N) could do to him what he was able to do for everyone else. She could read his emotions before he had a chance to name them, and she somehow found a way to make him calm and tranquil. She was everything he did not know he needed.

He had been afraid to tell her of his past. How he’d fought for the confederacy and had built and led an army of newborns in the south. He was ashamed of the lives he had taken, the people he had turned and promised eternity to in exchange for their loyalty, only to dispose of them one year later. All for what he thought was love. Jasper was frightened that the second he confessed to the sins of his past, (Y/N) would forsake him and push him aside.

Instead, he was met with a wave of compassion that washed over him. As his eyes stung from dry tears, (Y/N) provided him with a smile that he was sure could warm his frozen body. She placed a comforting hand on his cheek and gave his lips a soft kiss.

“Our pasts do not define the people we are today,” she had told him, nothing but love in her eyes. “The reason we are who we are now is because we have moved forward from what we did yesterday. You don’t need my forgiveness, my love. For the man I know now will never be the same as the man that was. What you need is to forgive yourself.”

At that moment, Jasper knew that his search was finally over. Though he still struggled with his hunger and considered himself a dangerous man, he’d found the person that could love him completely. A woman that had taken one look at the scars of his past — literally and figuratively — and, instead of recoiling in fear and disgust, had placed a kiss upon them and filled them with love and compassion.

“Do you know how lucky I am, darling?” Jasper had told her one day as they lay in a clearing somewhere in the snowy surroundings of Alaska.

“Is that so?” (Y/N) chuckled. Her fingers traced the stitching of the vest he wore, her head pressed against his chest wondering what his heartbeat could have sounded like. “I’d like to think I’m the one that is lucky. How many years did I spend on my own, waiting on my forever? Then you show up, with Alice in tow, and you change our family for the better. And now, I have someone to walk through life until the end of time.”

“Life is funny that way, huh,” he smiled. “And that is precisely what I wanted to speak to you about. I know our journey is seemingly endless and certain mundane things don’t particularly mean as much as eternity. But there is something that I want more than anything — mostly as a symbol of how much I love you. Because in this life and the next I want nothing more than to spend it by your side. So I ask you, (Y/N), would you do me the absolute honor of allowing me to be your husband?”

“For as long as love lives between us, yes. A thousand times yes.”

A wedding was such a monumental event for humans. For beings that stood the trials of time, it was a symbol of commitment. A way to bind their lives with something other than words. A simple promise made in the presence of the people they valued above everything else. That they were making the choice to intertwine their lives in all ways, regardless of any circumstances.

The event had been small, much to Alice’s dismay. The pair simply wanted their family and a few friends in attendance. Their love needed no impressive show, it simply was, and that’s how they wanted it.

In the family, they kept their heads low and out of the way. It was futile to insist on having more of a voice when it came to the decisions of the family. To that point, they had no quarrels with the choices the patriarch had determined for the clan.

Keeping to themselves allowed (Y/N) and Jasper to form a bond like no other. They didn’t need Edward’s mind reading to be able to hear the other’s thoughts; didn’t need Alice’s foretelling to know their life would be live and full of life. The couple had created the perfect balance between themselves and orbited around the family. Still, it was them against the world.

Jasper being the youngest — at least considered that way for being the last to join the family — was often the target for many quips in the family. From his stoic stare to his short fuse when it came to human blood, the blond would often be the butt of the joke. And it never seemed to anger him. He’d chuckle from time to time or roll his eyes at any lines that went just a little too far. But he never defended himself or asked them to stop.

His efforts were centered on keeping (Y/N)’s anger toward the family at bay. Though she was calm by nature, she despised the way their adoptive brothers picked Jasper apart. How they would jokingly criticize something the man could not control. It was often a topic of discussion when the pair enjoyed a rare moment of privacy.

“I’m going to squash them,” she huffed. “Are they not tired of the same jokes? Is there even an original thought in their heads?”

“There’s no need to worry your pretty little head over them, darling,” Jasper chuckled, placing a comforting kiss on her head. “I’m used to it by now.”

“But you shouldn’t be! Every day you work your hardest to control yourself around humans and I know how painful it can be for you. Then Tangina and Schwarzenegger come in and tell the same stupid jokes over and over again,” she exclaimed. (Y/N)’s arms flew up in frustration earning a chuckle from the man as he stared at her from where he lay. “It’s not funny, Jasper. One of these days I’m gonna blow and you’re not gonna be able to calm me down.”

“As much as I would love to see you say your piece to Edward and Emmett, I assure you I do not mind.” He took her hands in his, kissing the knuckles gingerly. “Their words do not affect me, darling. The only person whose approval I care for is yours.”

“And that you will have until the end of time.”

And that was the case for the next couple of years. Whenever they’d reach a new town the other two Cullen teens would joke about how Jasper could snap at any moment, and he’d wreak havoc in the city. They would say pick on him and laugh at him. The worst part, he simply took it, much to (Y/N)’s dismay.

She would grow angry, he would temper her emotions, she would complain about their brothers’ treatment behind their backs, and he would say it was fine. But it shouldn’t have been fine. He should never have gotten used to the unnecessary mean jokes from the older boys.

When they settled in Forks, (Y/N) already knew the cycle. New town, same jokes. The only difference this time, Edward grew obsessed with a particular human.

The day he’d come home from school muttering how he needed to leave for some time and hole himself up in Alaska, (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. There was Mr. Jasper-can’t-control-himself at the end of a downpour of blood frenzy. Everything he had jabbed at her partner with had come back to bite him.

She had laughed with Jasper that night, the jokes laced with actual worry that Edward would be the one to snap and attack a human. But the karmic retaliation had been far too exquisite for her to remain concerned. Revenge was always a very tasty treat.

But her small victory had not lasted long.

Only a week later, Edward had come back home with a recharged confidence. His woes about hurting Isabella Swan had died in a matter of seven days and he was ready to throw a hundred and ten percent toward forming a connection with the frail human.

And with Edward’s presence coming back, so did the overused jokes.

It had been a sunny afternoon in Washington and all the Cullens were stuck inside the house. Most of the morning had been uneventful, each of the family members reclused in their own rooms. The house was quiet and tranquil, peaceful. But that never lasted long. Especially when they were all home.

“So, Edward, this Bella chick is kind of… different, huh?” Emmett commented, his typical goofy grin spreading across his face. “But don’t you think it’s kinda dumb to get involved with a human?”

“Yeah, it might be,” he chuckled. “But it would be dumb of me to not even try. There’s just something about her that’s… intoxicating.”

“Yeah, it’s called human blood,” Rosalie spat. “Because she’s a human, Edward. The worst thing you could do is get involved with her. It could put her in danger. It can put all of us in danger.”

“There’s nothing wrong with testing the waters though,” he debated. “There’s truly something about her that calls to me. I need to see what it is.”

Anger had started sprouting inside (Y/N) as she listened to her family discuss the sudden apparition of Bella in their lives thanks to their adoptive brother. The cold that ran through her veins suddenly started growing warm, consuming her from the inside out. Not even the hand that Jasper had placed lovingly on the low of her back was enough to dissuade the ire that was taking over her.

“We’ve pretended to be humans for decades; I think I can do it for a couple of months with Bella. I just… I need to get to know her,” Edward continued. “I need to at least try.”

“And what will you do when she starts asking questions?” (Y/N) interjected. “How will you explain the cold skin? The fact that you don’t eat? The fact that you turn into a disco ball under the sun? How will you refrain from telling her you are a vampire?”

“I simply won’t tell her, (Y/N),” he chuckled. “It’s not that hard to not mention the fact that my family and I are a bunch of supernatural vampires.”

“You can’t even read her mind, Ed. How will you know she’s not coming up with conclusions on her own?”

“God, we can sit here a debate all night long on why it’s a bad idea for me to get in any way, shape, or form to get involved with Bella,” he retorted. “But it’s not really a family decision. I’m gonna see where things go with her, regardless of what any of you think.”

“So, you’re willing to put our family – our whole species – in danger, for a seventeen-year-old you met a couple of weeks ago?” (Y/N) questioned. Jasper was failing to calm her down. He could feel the angry red monster taking over her mind as she debated with Edward. Her emotions were taking over her reason and he could do nothing to help her. “I can’t believe you could be that reckless and selfish. Our entire existence depends on us being careful and guarding our secrets with our lives, especially in this town. If the Volturi don’t get you, I’m sure the wolves would be more than ready to put you in your place for breaking the treaty.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/N),” he laughed dryly. Everyone could tell he wasn’t taking the dangers seriously, he was not taking her seriously. To the older boy, it was merely a conversation. “If there’s anyone we should worry about recklessly exposing our secret is mister short fuse over there.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That it only takes something as little as a prick on a finger and fidgety Jasper will be pouncing on a human. The safest way for any of us to keep the secret is for you to keep a short leash on your husband.”

Edward had once vowed to not use his ability on his family unless absolutely necessary, and he had always kept that promise. That afternoon, he regretted it.

As everyone laughed at his taunting joke, (Y/N)’s emotions reached their peak. Her eyes had grown darker, and her hands had balled into fists. She couldn’t resist the wrath that had taken over her. All she could see was red.

One second, the family was enjoying the gag against the Cullen. The next, (Y/N) had pushed Edward hard enough to go through a wall in their picturesque living room. Dust filled the area, fragments of the wall thudding against the wall, falling around the boy. A mix of glass, wood, and gypsum board had scattered around Edward’s body, his body coated in a fine layer of dust.

The same expression of shock washed over each of the family members, astonished at the sight in front of them. Calm-mannered and good-natured (Y/N) had finally reached her boiling point. For centuries, she had always been able to keep herself emotionally balanced, even without Jasper. None of them thought there would come a day when they would see her temperament break.

Her chest was heaving, her nostrils flared, and her hands still stretched in front of her. She wasn’t breathing, instead, she was letting out every ounce of fury that still burned inside her. In a split second, she regained her composure. (Y/N) smoothed down her clothes and her usual smile spread across her face.

Silence spread across the room, the kind that was enough to deafen ear drums. It was tense and uncomfortable, filled with a type of discord they had never witnessed between them before.

“I think we can all agree that all jokes about Jasper’s, uh, condition shall only be done in private or inside our heads,” Emmett’s voice sliced through the silence, his voice booming and reverberating against the walls. “That was… unexpected.”

“But we can all say it’s a long time coming,” Jasper grinned, turning his attention to the woman he proudly called his wife. “And, darling, as much as I love that you’re defending me, I think it’s best we don’t put more people through walls. Alright, love?”

“I guess that’s doable,” she smiled.

The rest of the siblings broke into laughter. All but Edward that wore a scowl on his face as he wiped away the white dust from his face. (Y/N) couldn’t help the pride that swelled in her chest. After years of biting her tongue and holding back her feelings, it felt exceptional to finally shut Edward up.

“Well, Edward, it seems you and Emmett will have to set aside some time to fix that wall,” Carlisle grinned. “Can’t have your new girlfriend coming over and seeing a person-shaped hole in our new living room.”

“Why do I have to do it? (Y/N)’s the one that pushed me!”

“Let’s call it your apology for taunting Jasper for the past few decades,” Esme responded before joining her retreating husband. “Now get to it, boys.”

“How is that fair?”

“What can I say, Eddie boy?” (Y/N) grinned. “Karma’s a bitch.”

Jasper and (Y/N) promptly sped outside, needing a moment to themselves after the chaotic scene that unfolded. When they reached the clearing they often sneaked out to, the blond wrapped his wife in his arms and placed a passionate kiss on her lips.

“I can’t thank you enough for defending my honor,” he smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “Though I can’t say Edward didn’t deserve it, maybe next time we can try to use our words rather than our hands.”

“I’m offended, Major. It was a calculated reaction after years of bullying.”

“(Y/N),” he lovingly reprimanded. “You know better than that.”

“Alright, love. I promise I won’t throw Edward into a wall ever again,” she smiled, pecking his lips. “But I can’t promise I won’t find other ways to get even.”

“I would never expect less.”

At that moment, everything was perfect. Nothing and no one could ever have predicted that in less than a year Bella Swan would infiltrate their family, that all the quips against Jasper would accidentally turn into reality, and that life as the Cullens knew it would drastically be altered.

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excalibur-gone-missing · 2 months

Text

Paring: jeonghan x fem!reader

Requested: yes [Can you please write something angsty for prince DK? Or if this is too vague, what do you think about a bet au with Jeonghan?] [By anon]

Genre: angst, coworkers to lovers, fluff, fuckboy au, opposites au, bet au

Warning(s): misogyny, jeonghan is an asshole and so is seungcheol, [if you find more pls inform ]

Summary: Jeonghan had plans on never talking to the quite coworker they hired, but like doesn't always pan out the way we want to. But when you add money to the problem, plus both your feelings, you have the perfect recipe for disaster.

Word count: 5.2k

Other works

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask. Plus, if you loved it enough don't forget to reblog, it will help me reach a larger audience.

a/n 2: i hope it was what you wanted, thanks for the ask btw!

Everyone at the office knew that Jeonghan was a free spirit, he worked hard and partied even harder. He like living his life in the most happening way possible. Be it weekend trips, bike trips to the mountains or staying in the countryside for a week and working remote while enjoying the serenity that comes with it, he was down for anything.

Funnily enough he was referred to as the least energetic person in his friend group. So, one can imagine overzealous they normally were.

His work more often than not was impeccable, no one could fault him at all. The rising star of the corporate world they called him at the office. In his five years at the job the man had garnered more approval than anyone else.

He liked his life, and he would not trade it for anything else.

Now, unlike Jeonghan you resided on the other side of the spectrum. Your kind of life was pretty monotonous waking up before your alarm, making your bed, skipping meals, and surviving on coffee, reaching, and leaving work on the dot and crying while rewatching your favorite shows, was your kind of life. You like staying in during the weekends and cleaning up the mess you make in your living space during the weekdays and trying everything in your power to not upset your cat while doing so.

Its calm, chill, maybe a bit boring but it worked for you and brought you peace.

You were the newest recruit in your office and from the first day you captured the attention of most of your coworkers for your meticulous and polite words.

More often than not you refuse to talk to your coworkers ensuring that there stays a professional boundary between you all and if they would not catch onto your behavior, you would politely decline them.

Never that interested in networking, you refuse to talk to more people than you need to.

Jeonghan caught onto it pretty early, but why did it matter to him what you did, so like everyone else he went on his own way and simply chose to ignore you.

Ten months into your new job was when you first had a real conversation with the man. It was pretty late at night, both of you had to stay back for overtime. That was when you saw him struggling with his presentation for the next day’s meeting.

That day you broke the ‘no talking to my coworkers rule unless and until it’s very important’ rule.

“what’s the problem?” you politely asked the man.

“Oh, I am having slight problem with the numbers here,” the man replies looking visibly confused and surprised.

“If you want, I can help you out” you kindly stated as Jeonghan casually just turned his laptop towards you.

So, for the next one and half hours you both sat there and diligently worked on the presentation and by the end of it the material looked rather good and presentation worthy.

Looking extremely grateful the pretty man said, “I am so thankful you helped me out today, so why don’t I repay you by dropping you off at your house, it’s pretty late you know.”

Looking at your watch you politely replied, “no worries, plus if I rush a bit, I can catch the last bus home so please don’t bother.”

Jeonghan looked bummed at this, but he was obliged nonetheless as he knew you to be an introverted lady and he did not want to make you uncomfortable.

The next time you and Jeonghan had a conversation, was again at a night when you both were staying at the office over time. By this time, you have become pretty comfortable with each other, not enough to hold a conversation but enough to spare a quick nod and a smile while passing by each other’s cubicles.

He was done with the day’s work and was about to leave the office when he noticed you hunched over your laptop looking frustratingly at your screen which showed you an open excel sheet with infinite numbers.

Feeling like he owed you the help, Jeonghan strode towards you and calmly said “let me see.”

Jumping in shock you looked at him and replied, “oh no don’t bother I can figure it out you should go home it’s pretty late you know.”

Tsking at your reply he grabbed a chair to sit beside you while saying “it’s only fair, you helped me out so I should help you now.”

You let him, in actuality you needed that little help from him, the data entries were annoying you and you absolutely did not like it one bit.

Just like that time passed by again resulting in the clock to show that it was quarter past one by the time you both were done.

This time though Jeonghan shut down all your protests to go about his own way and your reluctance to inconvenience him with a simple “it’s pretty late and I won’t let you get followed by some creeps on the road plus the last bus is gone anyways so you are coming with me.”

On the way he stopped at a convenience store to get some dinner for you both and you devoured your ramen while chatting with him.

You both were pretty similar, in some cases for example you both had this extreme love for Legos that existed beyond measurable amounts, both of you loved your pets to death, albeit his was a rock and yours was a cat, but as he said “we don’t discriminate peoples pets here, they can have what they want to but given its legal and safe for the pet.”

On the other hand, Jeonghan liked you too, he was happy he could be the first one to break your shell to meet the real you and he was proud of this. It was close to an achievement for him.

“Han like this new chick in his office.”

Joshua loudly announced to the group of boys sprawled in his living room one evening. Jeonghan’s friends had come to his house to hang out and to get drunk out of their wits to forget the stress of the tedious weekend they had. They were all friends from college, now working jobs in the most contrasting industries ever like Seungcheol was the manager for their states football club and Soonyoung was a choreographer working with famous celebrities, Hansol on the other hand was the proud of a pet shelter and the one and only Joshua was an English history professor who most days worked overtime at the university. But at the end of the day, they were all the loud and obnoxious assholes he knew and loved from his younger days, and nothing could compare to that.

“Really you never told us about this one hyung?” Mingyu enquires.

“Nah she is just a new hire at the office, does not like talking to people at all. She is more antisocial than Wonwoo’s ass.”

“Really now, antisocial?” Seungcheol enquires, not missing Jeonghan’s defensive tone.

“Yes, Cheol antisocial, plus I don’t even know her enough,” the male says while rolling his eyes at his friends interest with you.

“Maybe you could talk to her and get her out of her shell, you are a pretty good mediator in our group I think you could do that,” pipes up the ever so benevolent Seokmin.

“Yes, you could,” Seungcheol joins him smirking a bit.

Now thoroughly annoyed Jeonghan exclaims “no I cannot. The only way someone can get that stuck up bitch out of her shell will be fucking her or something and I do not want to do so!”

“What if I pay you, will you do it then,” Seungcheol says still smirking.

“Do what?”

“Fuck her enough to get her out of her shell.”

The whole room goes silent at that statement.

“Hyung, I don’t think it’s right,” the youngest of them, Chan, suddenly speaks.

“Yes, its morally incorrect man,” Jeonghan agrees.

“I will pay you, plus life is pretty boring. This will give us something to talk about for at least the next year,” the oldest explains still smiling a bit.

“I agree with the others, its emotionally taxing and nothing good will come out of doing something like this man, plus what are we teenagers making bets about emotionally harming others?” Joshua says.

“Jeonghan, you do it and I will give you a thousand bucks,” the oldest says calmly. At the same time all the men in the room let out an exasperated sigh, knowing there is no winning with this stubborn man, while hoping silently that Jeonghan does not succumb to the greed.

But alas they were wrong, so wrong. An amount that lucrative will only be passed by a fool and Jeonghan was no such thing. He stood up from his place at the loveseat and confidently strode over to Seungcheol.

“You better keep your fucking word,” he says while shaking the older man’s hand.

While Seungcheol smiles and says, “you know what you complete the bet within the next six month I’ll give you a five thousand and if you don’t end up doing it, you gotta pay me pal.”

After that evening with his friends, Jeonghan was pretty stressed, because why should he not be? Making you sleep with him is hard enough, but making a situationship out of it sounds even harder. Now he thoroughly regrets accepting the bet.

You on the other hand are pretty happy and quiet as you often are. Very much unaware of his internal turmoil, as you keep talking excitedly about the new Lego death star you bought.

Yes, you and Jeonghan have bonded quite a bit these past few days, he likes spending time with you too, and so do you. It is a nice and comfortable friendship you both have built, and you like it.

“Why don’t you let me come to your place this weekend, and we can build the set together. We can get takeout later too,” he suddenly speaks up shocking you with such forward proposition.

“Well only if you want to though no pressure, it’s just that I really wanted to build the death star and was planning to buy it but like couldn’t make enough time to do –”

“Sure, you can come,” you speak up stopping his nervous rant.

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks just to make sure he heard it correctly.

“Yes, I am, it will be fun to build the Lego set together,” you say smiling.

“Yes, it would be, but like are you really sure,” he says again to make sure he is really not hard at hearing.

“Jeonghan if you ask me once again, I will take back what I just said.”

This makes him stop talking at all and he proceeds to show you his beautiful smile, making you feel a bit giddy inside.

“So, I will come this Saturday and we shall make the death star cuz we can,” he sings, making you bark out a laugh at him.

Little do you know you just poured a cool bucket of water on the burning flames on anxiety inside Jeonghan’s brain and he is extremely happy about that.

The next Saturday comes rolls in slowly, the tedious and boring week is over, and it is time for self-care and a lot of friendship building activities or that’s what you thought.

The man was mad and when you say mad you mean it. The Lego making only lasted for like two hours before he had hidden all the pieces of the part that you were making, resulting you to search for them all over the house. Moreover, after diligently searching and finding nothing, you had given up when he had produced all those pieces from his pockets shocking you to the core.

This little stunt had made you force him to pay for the takeout and when you were both fed and watered, he had proposed a game of chess. Only problem, you never knew one could cheat in this game too. He moved the pieces wrong.

Result. You both had the pettiest fight ever wherein the man with all his might tried to convince you that the rook was indeed supposed to move diagonally.

“You don’t understand, that is how the game is played. Are you sure you ever played this before?” he had asked.

“Hani you are wrong, please the rook never in its whole life moved diagonally, it always moved straight.”

“Maybe that is what your problem is, you are so uptight, you refuse to accept the differences in our opinions!”

“Oh, now I'm uptight, you are only being this difficult cuz you are losing!”

“I wouldn’t if you let me play the rook diagonally.”

“But that is not how it is played! Why don’t you—"

All your rants stop just like that, it took you at least five business days to actually realize that Jeonghan had kissed you. But once you got over that shock, you closed your eyes and moved your lips along with his.

Jeonghan, thoroughly exasperated by your intense argument, impulsively sought to quiet you by placing a soft, lingering kiss on your plump lips. Almost immediately, regret washed over him as he feared he had acted rashly at the worst possible moment. Mentally preparing to distance himself from you for the rest of your time together, he was taken aback when you reciprocated the kiss, instantly dissolving all his worries and leaving him pleasantly surprised.

You broke the kiss to take a breath, both looking visibly flustered.

“Do you want to stay the night, or do you want to go?” you asked him while looking at him with your sparkling eyes, making Jeonghan want to glue his ass to your house, but he being the gentleman he was declined the offer.

“I would really like to take you out on a date. As I really like you, so I won’t spoil my chances with you by staying tonight.”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. You always thought of the man to be a Casanova, so the idea of him taking you on a date while simultaneously insinuating that he won’t take any harsh steps with you was a nice little change and you were all for it.

It was all smooth sailing after that.

Jeonghan took you to an amusement park for the date next Sunday and oh boy did you enjoy yourself to the fullest.

Both of you had the time of your lives. Making sure to go on every ride, play every game and eating every junk you found there. By the end of it you were visibly exhausted and elated with how the day went.

The following day you were visibly happier in the office and even had a small conversation with one of your coworkers.

This went on for the following month, with each and every date you opened up to Jeonghan more and more, and so did he.

He loved spending time with you and vice versa. It was during your regular Friday movie nights, a ritual you both had established as you both liked watching movies and bonded while talking about them, when Jeonghan absolutely bored with the movie scooted a bit too close to you in hopes of gaining your attention by annoying you, a typical Jeonghan move. When you both ended up making love on the couch.

This was only the start of a lot of escapades you would have with the man.

After that one night, Jeonghan was all over you at all times. Be it at the office or be it at home he was with you or texting you all the time. Your nights were now filled with heavy make outs and intense love making sessions.

Everybody at the office knew about you both. On top of that you were more extroverted than ever. You even went out with your coworkers for an office dinner. Somehow, Jeonghan was praised for the change he brought in you, and like his ‘kind’ self, he declined all those compliments with a gracious smile.

He didn’t like to say it out loud, but he liked your changed self, more than your reserved one. Plus, he also took credit for the change, but it’s not like he would tell you that anytime soon.

It was almost five months into dating Jeonghan, when he asked you to meet his friends. You knew he had a very loyal group of friends and you had never met them before. On the contrary Jeonghan had met your one and only best friend within only three months of dating. In the most best friend manner, the lady has hated his ass the whole-time side eyeing him constantly and leaving petty remarks here and there. But that night she had called you and told you something she didn’t ever say for any of your boyfriends “I can see he loves you a lot. For the first time you chose the correct guy.”

Getting your strict best friend to like Jeonghan was like clearing the first hurdle of your relation. For the first time, you were proud of your choice in men and especially your boyfriend.

“Oh, I would love to meet them, but would they like me,” you were rightfully concerned about the boys liking you. As much as you were independent, you would like to gain the approval of your boyfriend’s friends like any girlfriend.

“They are dorks through and through, they will love, don’t worry” he had said while kissing your forehead to calm you down.

“Plus, you will fit right in, they are nice people,” he later added.

That evening, Jeonghan had taken you to the Korean BBQ place downtown where they all were meeting. The night had started rocky but within an hour you were having fun with Mingyu and Seokmin, all worries forgotten. Jeonghan had looked at you with pride blooming in his chest with how happy you looked with his friends, enjoying yourself.

It seems that all the twelve of them had liked you a lot saying you were the perfect partner for Jeonghan, someone who could ground him at the same time let him be himself.

The BBQ party came to an end, but the boys still had a lot of energy, so they went to the karaoke next taking both you and Jeonghan with them. Although you were thoroughly exhausted, you had complied to go, seeing Jeonghan have so much fun was a sight you didn’t want to miss.

You had gone to the bathroom the first thing right after reaching the karaoke place, to wake you up and also to do your business. Seungkwan had accompanied you claiming, “all that soju and walking has made my bladder shake like never before!” it’s not a lie though, they did drink like it will be the last time they ever get to drink.

As you came out of the restroom, Seungkwan gave you a kind smile and said “I have never seen Jeonghan this happy before, not even with us. I'm sure he likes you a lot.”

Smiling at him you said, “I think I love him; I have not said that to him yet, but I really think I do.”

With a sassy ‘good for you’ from the one and only Boo, you both made your way to the room that your group had booked.

As you reached closer, you could hear all the boys talking to each other.

“I approve, she is an angel, she even consoled Soon when he cried” said one of them making you smile a bit. By this time Seungkwan had stopped with you too eavesdropping on his friends as he is as dramatic as one can be.

“She is nothing like what you described her to be you know, she is nice and kind and far from being stuck up,” someone else said.

“Nah she is not, that stuck up once you get to know her, contrary to that she is very cheery and I like her you know,” Jeonghan had replied making you feel extra giddy inside.

“Hey bro if you like her that much maybe we should call off the deal we made, I see how much you like her and if you ask me, I will say she is a keeper,” with this statement, a silence washed over the whole group. You looked at Seungkwan to understand what was happening, but the man refused to look at you still stubbornly pretending to listen to the conversation.

“I said I like her, not like her enough to let go of the five thousand you offered” you suddenly heard Jeonghan speak making you even more confused about the whole ordeal.

“I think you will regret it you let her go hyung,” Seokmin suddenly said with a very somber tone generating a lot of assertive noises from the group.

“She won’t bring me five thousand, plus I fucked her got into a relationship with her and made her the fun-loving bitch she is now. It was a tedious process, but I completed my work, so I deserve the money.”

It was hard hearing the man you loved so much make such a degrading comment. At this point you were shaking with emotions so much that even Seungkwan who refused to look at you during this whole time, had to hold you steady.

“Did you know about this,” you asked him.

The boy with his eyes downcast just nodded his head.

“I won’t even ask you why you didn’t tell me about it, I get it you are his friend makes sense.”

“Hey none of us wanted him to do anything like this, but your Jeonghan is unstoppable sometimes and about the wrong things.”

“I think I should get going, I’ve heard enough.”

“Hey y/n we like you a lot, so please stay in contact with us later, no matter what your verdict is,” the younger man pleaded with glistening eyes, making you almost accept the request out of pity.

You ignored everyone and strode into the room bustling with men, heading straight for the couch. Without hesitation, you grabbed your bag and, as you walked out, approached Jeonghan and delivered a firm slap to his face. "We're done," you declared before exiting the room without glancing at anyone else.

The minute you had left, Jeonghan felt his life crashing down on him. The looks of disapproval from his friends and the pure disappointment that radiated off you caught him off guard. He had thought he could get out of it with both the girl and the money, but suddenly he realized he didn’t even need the said money, he only needed you. The weight of his words came to haunt me as soon as he had spoken them.

He immediately attempted to follow you but was stopped by Seungkwan, “did you see her face, if you follow her now, she will resent you more. Not like you don’t deserve it, but you are still my friend.”

The tone of his voice showed how much he was upset with Jeonghan. So much so that the younger male could not even look at his face.

“You are my hyung, but you know what I like her more, never have I ever thought you would do something like this,” he continued, “I hope she never forgives you.”

Hearing that Jeonghan couldn’t control himself and punched Seungkwan and a fight broke out. The boys trying their best to resolve it.

“It’s already a mess, can you both stop making it worse!” Mingyu said as Seungkwan punched Jeonghan back square on the jaw.

“Tell that shit to not meddle in my business then” comes Jeonghan’s voice.

“Maybe if you didn’t break her heart I wouldn’t, she was a fucking nice person,” Seungkwan shouted back as Mingyu dragged him out.

The night was ruined, and it was all because of Jeonghan.

That night you came home and cried your heart out ignoring all the calls from Jeonghan and the other boys, with whom you had exchanged numbers during the hangout. Thankfully, it was a Sunday the next day, so you didn’t have to look at the man who broke your heart, but it pained you so much to even move a muscle. It was like your heart was ripped out of your body. The pain was immeasurable.

There were at least a hundred missed calls on your phone and thirty of them from all of the boys. Your best friend come to your place that Sunday and tried her best to console a sad you, but nothing could stop you from beating yourself up for trusting a man like him. it’s true you loved him, and you regrated doing so, you didn’t blame Jeonghan for breaking your heart, you blamed yourself for being weak enough for you to let Jeonghan do so to you, for letting the man step all over you like you were a piece of trash that had no place in the normal world. The degrading things that he had said about you kept echoing in your ears, making it hard for you to think of anything else.

It was like you had forgotten all about your vow to never let anyone step over you and take away a piece of you from yourself. You were so hurt that you refused to see Jeonghan at all. So, on the next Monday you asked your HR for a weeklong leave and the kind lady obliged owing to your stellar performance at your department.

You turned off your phone that week and went to stay with you friend as the house was too lonely for you and the more you stayed there, the more you felt the memories of you and Jeonghan coming to haunt you.

On that Monday, Jeonghan woke up with a newfound determination. He was resolved to confront you and explain that his hurtful words from that night stemmed from his own inability to accept his feelings. He believed that once he clarified his side of the story, your compassionate nature would lead you to forgive him. He was even prepared to humble himself, willing to beg for your forgiveness if necessary. However, fate intervened when he discovered you had taken a week-long leave from the office.

The realization of consequences hit him suddenly. Yes, he understood the gravity of his actions, but he was willing to face any repercussions if it meant having you back in his arms. Anything seemed bearable compared to the thought of losing you.

By Wednesday, Jeonghan found himself standing at your doorstep, desperately knocking, hoping to speak with you. To his dismay, a neighbor informed him that you had been absent since Monday. His heart sank realizing he had missed his chance to reconcile with you.

He had made a solemn vow to himself that he would reach out to you no matter what obstacles lay in his path, willing to go to any lengths to make amends. However, he now realized the depth of his mistake. Reflecting on his actions, he understood that he should have heeded the advice of his friends earlier, but it was too late for regrets.

Jeonghan's determination to win you back consumed him. He felt a deep pang of regret for not acting sooner and for failing to appreciate the warnings from his friends. Now, facing the reality of your absence, he grappled with the weight of his impulsive behavior.

In the days that followed, Jeonghan resolved to wait patiently for your return, determined to seize any opportunity to make things right. He hoped against hope that he hadn't irreparably damaged the bond between you. Each passing day without you served as a sobering reminder of the importance of listening to his instincts and valuing the counsel of those who cared about him.

The next week you opened your phone to see it has blown up with Jeonghan’s messages and there were a few from Seungkwan asking you if you are okay and telling you that he had punched Jeonghan for being an asshole to you and that most of the people didn’t agree with Jeonghan’s antics but its hard to stop Jeonghan when is like that.

Taking pity of the boy you and answered him accepting his apology and telling him you were happy that he punched the guy.

His answer came immediately, saying he was happy that there is no bad blood among you two and he prefers you more than Jeonghan anyways making you laugh at his cuteness.

When you returned back to the office, the first thing you did was hand them your resignation letter. The next thing on your list was avoid Jeonghan till you leave work, at which you were pretty successful.

And just like that you were done with your time in the office and were moving onto another job before Jeonghan could even get hold of you.

Its has been three years since and life had never been better. You became friends with Seungkwan, Seokmin and Soonyoung immediately. You four hangout quite frequently. The three younger men like you a lot too. It’s a strong bond you have created with them. If anyone asks you would say the only good thing that came from your ex was the friends you made while with him.

On top of that you also have been in a relation with a man who treats you right and loves you to death. Its like you have at last reached the light at the end of the tunnel.

Jeonghan on the other hand drowned himself in work after you left, the man tried his best to forget your existence and was very thankful his work helped him do so. But whenever he was out with his friends he couldn’t stop himself from asking about you and always he got the same answer of ‘none of your fucking business’ from Seungkwan.

But it was different this time, it was the ever so kind Seokmin who answered him.

“Hyung she moved on, and you should too.” Hearing that he stood up, he didn’t know why. Would he go to your house and beg for your forgiveness again or will he call you while asking you to give him another chance?

Truth to be told, he didn’t know.

“Hyung please don’t mess this up for her. She is happy,” Seokmin spoke up again, kindly holding his hand to pull him down back onto his seat. It felt like Jeonghan’s life has come crashing down on him once again. One lone tear left his eye, too embarrassed to cry in front of his friends, he puts up a happy front while saying “of course Seok, I would do nothing to hurt her.”

All his friends looked at the man in pity, hoping that faith was kinder to him. but they couldn’t deny that he single handedly destroyed his life either. He was still their friend and he deserved to be happy to but so did you. The man sat in silence for some time till Joshua loudly declared he wanted to go to the arcade and all the others enthusiastically agreed, happy about the distraction.

That is when Jeonghan realized life has gone on and not stopped for anyone, the time he was supposed to seize his moment has passed and it wont ever come back. He now has to live his life without the presence of one of the most precious thing he ever had the privilege to possess, your love.

a/n 3: thank you all for reading !!

277 notes · View notes

admirxation · 2 months

Text

An Imbalanced Deal

trainer!Jack Krauser x afab!trainee!reader

summary: Krauser can take you far, maybe even get you out into the real world faster than the rest, but you must do something in return for that large favour.

cw: this fic will contain dub-con with the power imbalance; please read the warnings and continue at your own discretion // dub-con, power imbalance, manipulation, thigh touching, thigh fucking, degrading, neck kisses, p in v, unprotected sex & creampie. (word count: 3.3k)

The training facility loomed with its austere walls and regimented atmosphere. You were walking towards Krauser's office as he wanted to discuss your progress. You were the newest recruit, alongside a man called Leon, but you didn't know much or even speak to him to know anything other than his name and that he was in a similar position as you. You were forced, against your will, due to some special encounters you had with Umbrella.

When you joined, you just kept to yourself, wanting to get this training over and done with, and it seemed to be working fine until now with this sudden meeting. Everyone knew how difficult Krauser was on the recruits, no, on every one; this was present in the nicknames he gave to people; you first noticed this with Leon being called "rookie" and further experienced this with him having no hesitation in telling people that they were pathetic, he always went straight for the jugular of people's insecurities. But he never did this to you.

It was different with you; if you made a stupid mistake, he would call you on it, but in a good and constructive criticism sort of way, something the other recruits noticed and developed a strong jealousy towards you. He didn't even give you nicknames; he just called you by your last name. Since then, everyone had isolated you with all the favouritism you had — like it was somehow your fault.

You continued to wait outside, hearing muffled footsteps through the door as you tried to straighten your posture and fix your clothes, gathering the courage to knock on the door as you waited for the clock to hit the exact time.

With a deep sigh, you knocked and awaited his call.

"Door's open," you heard his deep voice through the wooden door.

You entered slowly, pushing the door and stepping into a dimly lit office space. He was sitting in a seat close to the other, the one you would be sitting in by the looks of it, and you were surprised that it wasn't the conventional behind-the-desk setup like most office spaces had.

As you got closer to your seat, you noticed his gaze remained intense; you couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you remained under his scrutinous stare. You felt your hands tremble while you placed them to the sides of your thighs, but this made an amusement within Krauser as he continued to watch your timid demeanour, smiling to himself when he noticed how you avoided eye contact with your eyes shifting everywhere in the room but only occasionally at him. He just took your nervous acts as an opportunity to steal more looks at you, trapped in thought as he looked you up and down.

You felt that you were almost trapped in this small and dark room, feeling small and vulnerable as you moved closer and sank into the chair next to him, fully aware of how small you were compared to him. For a moment, your thigh grazed against his, and you tried with all your effort to keep your legs together and away from him, your hands neatly placed in your lap, then moving to the sides as you nervously couldn't be able to decide how to make a normal body language.

The air felt heavy and tense, with the looks and unspoken words currently hanging between you two. However, before speaking, Krauser continued to study you. He watched as you looked at the floor, then the bookshelves, constantly at the clock, and he loved how shy you were with him. He knew you weren't confident, with your reserved nature and inability to make friends with the others, but seeing you nervous because of him felt like a little treat only he could indulge in.

"How have you been finding the training so far?" his words finally broke the silence.

His calm and careful speech was strange to you; you were used to the constant anger in his words, and you even heard from other people when you trespassed on their conversation with the casual eavesdrop that he was rude and arrogant. You had never experienced that yourself, and you thought maybe they were overreacting; but now you were starting to understand their disliking further than just the nicknames and insults, more than the description of rudeness or arrogance. You felt intimidated and out of control, and you hated that. You couldn't stop the nerves, getting worse as your palms continued to tremble and be dampened by the producing sweat.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking, feeling like your mouth suddenly went dry as you shifted in the stiff chair, acutely aware, now, of how he remained to give you intense gazes as he awaited your answer: "It's been... challenging, sir," you managed to reply with your tone of voice being barely above a whisper, "But I am learning a lot and c-continuing to try my best," you couldn't help but stammer in your speech.

He nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he continued to subjugate you with a stare that lasted uncomfortable long: "I've noticed that dedication," you couldn't help but like the sound of his voice; it was low, smooth but with a hint of grovel in it, it was intriguing, "and your willingness to learn and improve is... impressive."

You let out a half-smile, wanting time to hurry up and stop you from being trapped in these walls. You kept checking the clock; of course, time felt like it was going as slow as possible. On top of that, to your shock, his compliment made a blush creep onto your cheeks, feeling the warmth spread despite the cold chill in the room. That warm sensation was unwelcome; you even felt stupid for blushing at a superior's comments, especially when you have never been interested in him. But while you were questioning and mentally reprimanding yourself for that blush, his seat moved closer to yours, and his leg now slightly touched your side.

"In this line of work, seeing someone with actual potential is refreshing."

Your heart began to race as you noticed the proximity of your bodies; you could hear and feel that pulsating pounding in your ears, complete with the warmth you felt from your heart continuously pounding, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You tried to ignore it, but your body wouldn't comply with what your mind tried to dictate. You could decipher the looks he provided; these were ones of longing, but there was also lust in those looks as he examined and continued to have you in the focal point in his peripheral vision.

You were the target of all his desires. You sensed where this meeting was going, as it unravelled before you.

"Is that all you wanted to say, sir? I hate to cut it short, but I must get going; I have training,” your voice had a high-pitched tinge as you tried to make up some excuse and escape the situation. But you were just met with Krauser leaning back in his chair and playing a faint smirk at the corner of his lips. That smirk taunted you, and his facial expression said, 'I do not believe you.'

"Oh, are you now? With who?"

"Um, Kennedy... Yes, he and I want to train together today," you were hurriedly trying to get the words out, praying to yourself that the excuse would be believed, but you could just tell you were going to be dealt a bad hand.

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned forward, reaching his hand out and brushing his fingers against your thigh. You froze, and your mind continued to race as you tried to process and understand all this. You experienced a jitter through your body as you felt those soft grazes.

"Don't lie to me," fuck.

"I-"

"You... are lying. There's no scheduled time with your name, and you've never spoken to the rookie. Nice try, but that excuse was... disappointing."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"That's better. Now, I will tell you why I wanted you here," his voice became lower with a husk in his tone, "You see... I believe…I know, you have the potential to excel even further, but that will require a level of... closeness between us. I can provide you with a much-needed connection to ensure good things come your way; I can even get you out here quicker... And I know that's what you all want, to get out of his hell hole." He continued to smirk, knowing he had the upper hand as he proceeded to graze his fingers along the clothed plush of your thigh, then turning into his large hand grabbing it; you felt your chest rise for a quick and small moment as your breathing quickened as he continued to squeeze and go upward to your waistband gently.

"S-sir, don't think you think this is inappropriate?" you couldn't help but continue to stammer, frozen by how he freely explored; he wanted to go deeper and rip your clothes off like he always desired since the moment you sauntered over and caught his attention.

But he couldn't help but chuckle to himself softly, and that sound only sent an uncomfortable shiver down your spine as he knew he wouldn't listen to your pleas. "Oh," his voice dripping with amusement, "I didn't know you were so against getting out of here. I guess the isolating, lonely, harsh place gives you an inviting feeling, doesn't it? But by all means, stay. How could I be so silly as to think you wanted an advantage?" he pulled his hand away for a moment as he watched you squirm in thought.

You sat there, thinking to yourself, knowing that this was all inappropriate and that you had never even thought of Krauser in that way, but you weren't going to deny that this place was slowly killing you from the inside out; you saw how it was changing those around you, and he did make a correct observation that you didn't need to stay for all the years of the programme to get far — you weren't only the favourite because of looks, you had skill, you weren't going to be humble about it since how else would you have gotten there?

“So, what do you say?” His hand hovered around your waist, waiting for you to say yes.

“You’ve put me in a difficult decision, and I-”

“Ah, ah, ah, I don’t want to hear complaints… You either let me have what I want or leave… and who knows what will happen to you… Maybe even the worse.”

You couldn’t risk that. You didn’t want to; if this situation had never happened, you wouldn’t even look at him that way; you just thought and tried to tell yourself that it would probably be shit if it were like the other men you had been with, it would be a quick deal, all you had to do was endure those few minutes, maybe fake an orgasm or two, and get everything you wanted. However, you knew you would have to put your dignity on the line for this.

But dignity was a good trade for freedom.

You nodded, continuing to look down as you accepted Krauser’s proposition; he continued to lay his hand on your upper thigh before making his way to your waistband again, freely exploring you like he had given you all the freedom to make a choice, you just stayed silent as he did whatever he wished.

“Don’t go limp on me. Stand.” You did this slowly. "Hurry up.”

You stood and presented yourself in front of Krauser, and his large hands rested at the sides of your hips, pulling you closer and nestling your standing body in between his legs; you could already see a bulge in his pants, mentally preparing yourself for whatever he was going to do to you. Just endure; it’s just a few minutes, he’ll probably be really bad, and you’ll get to maybe laugh about it, you kept telling yourself as a way to calm your nerves.

“Such a beautiful girl,” he whispered to you as he started to unbutton your trousers, pulling them down and revealing your lace panties, “Hm, already prepared, it seems,” you couldn’t help but find it so gross how he was just going to use your body, making it easier to disassociate as you felt the skin of his fingers feel your lower half, moving your body automatically as he continued to take your top off and leaving your standing there with nothing but a bra and panties. “Take it all off me, now, sweetheart.”

His language was slow but eager at the same time, he wanted you more than anything, and all you could do was begrudgingly take your bra off and let it fall to the ground, kicking it to the side, and he watched the flesh of your breast exposed right in front of him; just the sight made him stand up and grab you in a deep and rough kiss, no passion just lust as he pressed the forming tent in his pants against your thigh and your pussy. You instinctively reciprocated the kiss, having your hands placed on his muscular arms, then his shoulders, wrapped around his neck as his hands wandered all over you, first grabbing and squeezing your tits, then grabbing the fat of your ass harshly as he kissed then moved to your delicate neck.

That was when you felt a throbbing sensation, a heartbeat pulsating, moving from your lower body and creating a knot in your stomach; that was when you realised that you liked this; your hands moved to his hair and ruffled it all up as you shared the same energy and pacing in this kiss that was becoming wetter with every interlock, feeling his cock twitch and wait to be inside you. The kiss went on long, but it felt short when you were starting to ease yourself into it, disappointed as it stopped but being met with the delight of seeing Krauser hurriedly taking his pants off, forcefully sliding his boxers down and experiencing a jolt of heated excitement as you saw his large cock spring up, already covered in a dribble of precum on the tip.

You didn’t have long to admire him as he grabbed you by your hips, hard enough to leave slight marks, but you didn’t care if he threw you around like a ragdoll; you were just getting excited as you proceeded to share a kiss, as you moved your hand all the way down to his throbbing erection, wrapping your fingers around it and pumping it lightly — you felt a hitch in Krauser’s breathing as you showed more enthusiasm.

“Aren’t you eager… Put that whole front for nothing, didn’t you, you little slut?” he whispered in your ear as he placed his hand on yours and slowly removed it, “open your legs a little, now.”

You obeyed, following suit and parting them slightly, eagerly awaiting the next move he had to make; you watched as he briefly rubbed his hard member before using his spare hand and placing it on the side of your thigh, slowly pressing his cock in between your thighs, moving back and forth when he was satisfied with how the fat of your thigh surrounded his hard cock. He let out a deep breath as he slowly continued to rock back and forth and feel how wet you were through your panties, pressing his fingers into your hips; you couldn’t help but release small, high-pitched moans as you felt it push alongside your folds, making you even wetter and wait for him to get bored and finally be inside you. Still, you were also not completely opposed to enjoying this sensation.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he thrust his hips and felt your wet heat surround his cock, “god, I need you.”

“Take me then,” you replied, biting your lip as you continued to feel your core tingle for him.

“Why couldn’t you have been this eager at the start,” he let out a small and breathy laugh as he pulled his hips away from yours and tucked his fingers in the band of your panties, wasting no time in ripping them down and making a slight pain as you felt the fabric material rush against your skin, you winced a little, but Krauser didn’t care.

All he cared about was how your beautiful, wet pussy was right in front of him and there for the taking, grabbing your hand and making your way to the wooden desk he had tucked in the corner of the room, throwing you on the hard, wooden surface. You felt pain in your elbows as you made contact with the desk, but your adrenaline was pumping inside you, bringing that sharp spiking pain to a minimum so you wouldn’t be distracted. He looked at your glistening cunt, for a moment: “such a pretty slut,” his words were harsh but alluring as he rubbed his length before rubbing the thick and wet tip along your bare slit, watching as you squirmed with just the mild contact along your core. Krauser couldn’t help but be so proud of himself as he got you begging for his cock like a little whore.

“You want me, don’t you,” he just couldn’t help himself but tease you as he watched you spread your legs for him. You nodded to answer, but that wasn’t enough, “use your words.”

“I w-want you so-so bad,” he waited for the magic word, “please, sir.”

With that, he slowly introduced his cock inside your walls, groaning quietly as he felt your warm and tight walls clasp around his length: “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he muttered as he continued to thrust his hips into yours, picking up the pace as placed his hands on the joint of your knees, his thumb pressing at the back of them and holding your legs that were already trembling.

You arched your back as he fucked you deeper; you felt the tip of his cock roughly kiss and bruise your cervix, whining and getting warmer as he pressed his fingers into your legs the harder he fucked you, getting more turned on when hearing his groans, and his laboured deep breaths. You cried out as he fucked you senseless, thinking how stupid you were in previous thought that you would have to fake everything; Krauser had to clasp his hand over your mouth with how loud he made you, he was slightly disappointed that he couldn’t let you cry and moan out and cum to the sound of his name on your tongue, but he had to keep this all a dirty secret, smirking to himself as he continued to thrust and penetrate your sopping wet cunt that felt like it belonged to him and him only, as you squirmed and let him go harder in your squelching pussy.

That was when you felt it: a warm sensation that was going to roll from your core out to your mouth; you felt yourself reaching a climax and didn’t care how loud you were going to be. Your eyes began to roll to the back of your head, only exposing the whites of your eyes as you loudly released a groan as Krauser pulled one of your legs over his shoulder to get deeper, rubbing your clit with his thumb when he noticed you get closer.

“Fuck… I’m so close,” he spat as he gritted his teeth, not wanting this moment to end but acknowledging his limit was close, “gonna fill that slutty hole up,” his degradation was only adding to how loud your orgasm was.

Accompanied by a grunted moan, you felt a hot, sticky rope flood your walls, filling you so full that the warm sensation started dripping out and surround Krauser’s cock. Then sharing a moment, just looking at each other and breathing heavily.

as promised i am tagging @mrswint3rs (you should defo check out their fics as well)

a/n: i know i know i know i have been going on and on about doing some krauser stuff for ages but i finally managed to get the time and motivation to complete the wip that has been collecting dust in the google docs. so i hope you enjoy it, i begggg haha.

p. s. also i wanted to note that i wasn't sure if i should label this as dub-con since it isn't the traditional dub-con fics i have seen, but after discussing it with some people on disc and my own evaluation i wanted to label it as dub-con since even tho there is some enthusiasm towards the end the reader isn't presented with much choice, and there is a power imbalance. so if anyone is confused that is my explanation for it. i would rather maybe mistag with too much than ignore something and accidentally expose someone who didn't want to see that particular content. anyways i hope you liked this and all engagement is appreciated, hope everyone has a lovely day/evening, mwah mwah mwah.

#jack krauser #jack krauser smut #jack krauser x reader #jack krauser x afab reader #jack krauser x f!reader #dub-con #resident evil #read the warnings #trainee x trainer #power imbalance #power imbalance fanfiction #jack krauser oneshot #oneshot #fanfiction #smut fanfiction #fanfics

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oleander-nin · 7 months

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The Coldest Heart(Yandere Future Rise Donatello x Reader)

A/N, not important: Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Apocalypse, kidnapping, freezing, dark themes, yandere themes.

Words: 1291

Summary: Donnie cuts off the heat

Winters were always frigid in the apocalypse, the broken terrain and weather making the places that have never seen a snowflake now completely frozen over. The “snow” that covered the barren wasteland outside the base’s doors was a poisonous brown, bubbling when it touched the ground instead of sticking. It may be frozen, but it was nothing like the fluffy white snow you held dear in your memories. You shiver under the blankets you were given, your body curled up in a weak attempt to preserve the heat trapped under the blankets with you. You were exhausted, sleep pulling at your eyes and trying to coax you under, but the cold biting at your fingers and toes was unrelenting. Your ears and nose burned, keeping you alert as you try to keep out the frigid air. The small amount of heat Donnie allowed in his lab was gone, the furnace broken and vents turned off. Cold had seeped into every crack and was now trying its best to choke you out as well.

You turn your head towards Donnie as he types onto a monitor projected by his ninpo, sticking your face into the bitter cold. His outfit amazed you, the mutant only being dressed in a thin sweater made to stretch over his battle shell and sweats that were a size too small. You look at him in envy, not understanding how he could withstand the freezing temperature in the thin clothing he had. Donnie turns his head at the feeling of your boring gaze, his eyes meeting yours and his tridactyl hands leaving his keyboard which causes it to falter, then disappear. For the first time in the months since he had stuck you in his lab in claims of protecting you, you don’t break your gaze. Whether it was from exhaustion or the cold, you no longer cared about such a simple thing as keeping your eyes off the man you hated most. If he was truly upset with your staring, he could come and close your eyes himself.

“You’re shivering.” Donnie muses, his voice teasing and airy as if the frostbite creeping over your nose was a mere tasteless joke. You scowl, burying yourself back into the plethora of blankets that covered the cot Donnie had you share with him. You hear him chuckle at your childish display, driving in the belittled feeling he had sunk into your heart.

“Fix the heat then.” You grumble at your captor, not caring for niceties. You can hear his chair shift and you look back at him through a crack in the blankets, seeing his eyes averted downwards as he chews on his cheek. His knuckles are now digging into his teeth, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he seems to be debating himself over something. His shoulders are more hunched, like he was a little kid who got caught stealing cookies late at night.

“You know I can’t.” Donnie says, like he was trying to be firm but his voice falters. He still refuses to meet your eyes, only staring at the floor as he chews on his knuckles. Your eyes narrow, your knees pulled closer to your chest as another cold burst breaks through the blanket barrier.

“You’ve already fixed it.” You accuse, the chattering of your teeth breaking up the sentence and making it sound more pathetic than you hoped. Donnie finally pulls his fist away from his mouth as he stares back at you, crossing his arms and protesting with a loud, “indignant scoff.” If you could feel your feet, you would run over there and strangle him.

“If you’re cold,” Donnie starts, his voice tight as he dodges your accusation to try and quell your thoughts, but ends up confirming it instead. “You can grab a blanket and come sit with me. I’ll keep you warm.”

You sneer, diving back under the blanket den you had created around yourself. Even if you wanted to cuddle up to the person who was holding you hostage in the name of ‘safety’, you couldn’t. Your feet were so frozen you couldn’t feel them more than a dull pain, and your fingers couldn’t close around the thin material of the blankets anymore. Silence stretches through the lab, and you’re sure Donnie had given up and turned back around.

A quick padding of socked feet breaks the silence and two arms wrap around your covered self, lifting you from the cot and into Donnie’s arms. He mumbles a swift apology as you flail and curse, quickly moving back to his chair and depositing you in his lap. He shifts the blankets around, helping you pop your head out so you could see. Donnie cups your cheek with one hand, the other still firm around your lower back so you couldn’t squirm away from him and escape. The feeling of his hand on your face is one you always hated, but the burning head of his warmth makes you hiss in pain rather than disgust. He was an oven, his hand slowly heating your cheeks and bringing color back to your face. You melt into him after a minute, nearly crying when his warm hand leaves your cheek to cup your ears.

“You are cold.” He mutters, mostly to himself. He continues to try and warm you himself for a small while, attempting to bring your body temperature up from the dangerous levels it had fallen to. He eventually signs and gives up, summoning a projected screen with numerous switches and buttons. He clicks a few things before closing the screen and pulling you closer, easing open the blankets you clung to so he could pull your whole body against him and try to warm you up.

You hear the vents above slowly whirr to life, the room slowly being filled with a strong heat that makes your head spin. You blink at Donnie, your limbs unstiffening as you try not to cry.

“You fixed it…” You mumble, letting your head hit the dull point of his plastron. Donnie nods, rubbing your back beneath the blankets. Anger pools in your chest for only a moment, the relief of the heat taking over and the exhaustion pushing through once more.

“I fixed it within minutes of its breaking. I wasn’t going to let the base freeze.” Donnie pulls you closer, kissing your temple with a smug smile. “You, however, weren’t letting me touch you, so I turned off the heat to try and convince you to let me touch you more, but that seems to have backfired.”

You scowl, hitting his shoulder with your forehead. You wanted to scream, to bite him, to do anything to make him suffer like he had you for the past few days, but you don’t. You were terrified he would turn the heat back off. His lab was obviously able to be isolated from the other parts of the base, which horrified you. For all you knew, he could leave and seal the doors before shutting the oxygen off for a couple minutes, just to let you suffer.

Donnie continues to rub your back, his quiet humming not showing any bit of remorse for the torment he had put you through. He seemed happy with the outcome, and you figured he was. Here you were in his arms, just as he wanted. Maybe once you could feel your fingers again, you’d try and fight him, but for now, you had given up. The heat was too much of a reward for you to risk losing it now. Even Donnie’s arms were a price you were willing to pay to not freeze. His plan had worked, and now nothing would stop him from doing it again.

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f1daydreamers · 10 months

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏]

gif credits: @u-u-piastri81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

Summary: Oscar is a visitor at your first art exhibition – not exactly his scene – but it's one that he contributed to financially to help you out, an upcoming artist he's taken a bit of a liking to.

Warnings: criticism but not always constructive, fluff, Reader and Oscar being cute, this man in a suit (audience may faint from the gifs), angst, maybe Oscar is a little out of character but I just upped his rizz by a solid 20% because I love him but he's way too shy to do any of this methinks :)

A/N: I know nothing about this profession icl but I got major black tie and exclusive event vibes from the gifs so this is what came out of it. I did a ton of research to make sure it wasn't too unrealistic but experience beats knowledge so if you guys read any things that need some correction, lmk!

Yeah, I never expected this to be so long but once I got to writing, I couldn't stop so hey, enjoy!

Word Count: 4.6k words (17 mins reading time avg)

…

Safe to say, this wasn’t Oscar’s scene.

Standing among collectors, art enthusiasts, curators, and industry professionals meant feeling a little out of place was a tad understated.

But he wanted to be here tonight. Of course, being invited is one thing but accepting the invitation comes with a whole new world of formalities he hadn’t prepared for.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, busy greeting and socialising with what looked like a few critics and journalists.

The notebooks in their hands were a dead giveaway but your hand drumming on your leg was another. You were anxious.

Oscar took a sip of his drink, the one he was offered when he received an entry pass coming through the venues' doors. He knew how much this evening meant to you, both in the months of planning and the dreams that preceded it.

Initially, the idea seemed farfetched, but as you dove straight into creating the collection, photographing it, staying up late to create statements that wholly captured the essence of your creative process, the once exciting prospect of submitting it to a gallery felt somewhat dissatisfying.

In a few conversations with Oscar, you’d shared your aspirations of seeing your portfolio bask in the limelight. However, the reality of organising a self-funded exhibition in a rented space would blow your budget out of the water.

You don’t know at what point but he’d made the decision to donate a significant sum of money to your artist fund, covering a major portion of the exhibition's expenses.

It helped you realise all those curious questions about possible venues, dates, and basic costs weren’t just to fuel his enthusiasm, but to sincerely offer his support.

You were grateful beyond what words could describe, and the least you could do was ask him to be here today.

You were nervous partially because you had critics and community leaders alike wandering around the space, conversing about your work you’d spent years dedicating blood, sweat and tears to.

But you were also nervous because he was here tonight.

Even if you’d drawn a squiggly line on a blank canvas, Oscar would marvel at it like it was the most beautiful thing on this planet, but tonight was when he was finally seeing your work in all its completion.

He brought your vision to life and the last thing you wanted to do was make him think his investment was a waste.

Last you’d checked, you hadn’t seen his brown wavy hair anywhere around the venue, his innocent smile playing on your mind even when you were entranced in conversation with fellow artists.

You stepped in front of a painting no one else currently seemed to be trained on, focusing on inhaling and exhaling your breaths, fidgeting with your fingers by your sides.

Tonight, was the most important day of your career by a mile.

“Excuse me.” Someone spoke up behind you and you inhaled a deep breath before whisking around to greet them. But your eyes grew soft, and your smile grew amicably at the man glancing downwards back at you.

“Do you know where I could find the host of the evening?” He asked, his smile mirroring yours, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass.

"Oscar," you breathed out, and the F1 driver had to force himself to disregard the palpable sense of relief that accompanied the utterance of his name.

The way it effortlessly rolled off your tongue, it left him wanting to hear you say it repeatedly.

“You made it.” He nodded his head, “I did.” Initially, he had doubts about attending, but considering the venue was conveniently located close to his hotel near Silverstone and his flight to Budapest wasn't until Monday evening, he managed to find the time to come.

You drew in a breath, "you look good." Your compliment was genuine, whenever you'd met up with Oscar or came across photos on Instagram, he was either in racing gear or in casual outfits. To see him in a suit was different. A good different.

"Thanks. Pretty sure I should be counting my breaths though." You chuckle as he looks down at himself, the shirt was a little smaller than he would've liked.

A testament to how life in Formula 1 was like and that his neck size had grown exponentially.

"Each one could be your last," you joked, adding on and he nodded.

"Exactly." His laugh culminated into a final chuckle, melting into a warm smile.

When you looked away, seeing the waiters you'd hired tonight refilling cups as people wandered around, Oscar took the opportunity to let his eyes drag over your figure.

"You look beautiful," his compliment drew a smile from you.

You briefly cast your gaze downward before lifting it to his chest then finally up to his eyes. "Thank you, Oscar."

He responded only with a curt nod; his eyes trained on your face before he tore them away to have a look around him.

"How's it going?"

You hummed, thinking about your answer. "It's okay. There's a few paintings that are getting lots of attention, others a little less."

"Did you expect that?" He asked and you reasoned, you knew when you began this collection that people would naturally gravitate more towards some pieces anyway, that's the advice you were given everywhere you went.

"Yeah, I'd be lying if I said I didn't." Oscar took a sip of some liquid courage before pointing at the painting you'd just been standing in front of with the rim of his glass.

"I like this one." You turned as he took steps towards it, his shoulder grazing yours. "This is the last one." You mentioned as he skimmed over the statements planted on the wall next to the artwork.

"I think it's an elderly couple, and the mirrors all around them are portals into a specific memory of their relationship." He said undisputedly. You look up at him, your mouth parting slightly in surprise.

"Yeah, how did you figure that out so quickly?"

"It's almost like you were brainstorming ideas to me on call a few months ago." You scoff, rolling your eyes but ultimately impressed by his memory.

He hadn't spoken much during that phone call, so you'd assumed he wasn't paying much attention to your endless rambles.

"I never realised you were actually listening." You softly said and Oscar turned his head to look at you.

"Every word." He reassured, and a warm feeling encompassed your chest at his affirmation.

His gaze traced over the painting once more. While he had never hesitated to express his belief in your talent, seeing your artwork displayed in such a way stirred a whirlwind of emotions inside of him.

He was proud of you and excited for you, knowing that you had undertaken this journey for your own sake, garnering an array of artistic admirers. It's no mean feat to organise an event like this, take a risk so early on in your career.

"I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you." You snap him out of his thoughts, turning your body towards him, standing a few feet away.

Oscar mimicked your movements, turning so he was facing you, and placed his now empty glass on a bar tray that a waiter had extended to him, refusing a refill.

"Why do you think you need to repay me? Remember, it was a donation." He said matter-of-factly. You let out a sigh.

Despite his repeated assurances that he expected nothing in return, you couldn't shake off the feeling of indebtedness that lingered in your thoughts.

You found yourself dwelling on the late-night conversations, wondering if your eagerness to discuss your plans had inadvertently conveyed desperation.

Your gaze drops and without hesitation, he reaches his hand out and gently slots it into yours, his thumb caressing over your skin in a soothing gesture. Your heart skips a beat or two, the warmth of his hand was relieving.

"This is the best way you can repay me. Living the dream." He smiles and you nod, finally lifting your eyes to meet his. His voice was a calming anchor amid your thoughts.

"I'll never forget how you made it possible though," a small smile graced your lips, and he let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, you never miss a chance to mention it," he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement. You playfully rolled your eyes, a good-natured sigh escaping you as you did.

Oscar's hand retreated to his side, and a subtle longing for his touch flickered within you. Nevertheless, you mask it with a smile that grew as you exchanged a couple more jokes.

...

He courteously held the door ajar, giving a nod to a man entering the bathroom who appeared to appreciate the gesture. Letting the door close behind him, Oscar took out his phone to check the time.

Absentmindedly, he began scrolling through his notifications: a mix of sports updates, a message from his mum, one from Mark. Yet, none seemed particularly urgent.

Just as he was about to tap on one of the notifications, his attention was drawn upward to the sound of your voice.

You were engaged in conversation with a man, his journal held in his hands, and sunglasses perched atop his head. Oscar's gaze briefly went back to his phone screen; he made no overt effort to eavesdrop.

Despite this, fragments of your conversation found their way to his ears anyway.

"I must say, your work is quite disappointing. The lack of technical skill is evident in every piece." Oscar's eyebrows furrow as he observes openly, a marked departure from his earlier disinterested demeanour.

You clear your throat as you try to collect yourself, bringing your fingers up to your mouth to hide your quivering lip.

You had previously cautioned yourself that not everyone will like your work, but experiencing such candid criticism directly was far more destructive than you could have expected.

"Um, okay. What sort of things did you not like about it?" You asked, trying to find some sort of valuable insight from such a respected critic in your community.

"The colours are garish and clash horribly. It's clear that you have no understanding of colour theory or composition." You nod, gathering some form of strength to just take his words on the chin but you were failing rather miserably. Your stomach was sinking, and your eyes were watering slowly.

"It's a shame that your efforts have resulted in such subpar creations." Your jaw tightens and as you scramble for the right words to respond with in your mind, a hand presses into your lower back from behind.

"Excuse me. I want to purchase a piece, but I can't seem to find your sales assistant." The accent is unmistakable, and you muster a smile as you turn to face him.

"I'll help you." Your voice is unsteady, your emotions deflated.

"Thank you," Oscar responds, though his gaze carries a hint of concern. He moves to follow you but before he can do so, the critic extends his hand to grasp his arm, waiting until he's certain you're out of earshot.

"Coming from a collector, don't bother." He smirks, his conviction clear. Yet, the F1 driver's face remains impassive.

"Sorry, I don't remember asking you. Now, if you don't mind." He looks down at the grip on his arm, his fist clenching by his side. The critic seems taken aback at the blank expression looking back at him, devoid of any gratefulness.

He swallows before loosening his grip.

Oscar rounds the pillar just as you press down on the handle to the fire door exit at the distant end.

He contemplates whether he should grant you some space, but he wonders if doing so will only make matters worse.

Pausing briefly, he contemplates his choices before deciding to make his way toward the fire exit anyway. His hand firmly grasps the handle, and he proceeds to push open the door.

With your back turned towards him, you're unaware of his presence. Your palms are pressed against your face as a means of stifling your sniffles hence the closing of the door registers faintly, the sound hardly penetrating your thoughts.

It's only when the crunching of gravel beneath someone's shoes reaches your ears that you realise you're no longer alone. But oddly, you know there's only one person who it could be.

The combination of embarrassment, distress, and sheer exhaustion was what left you feeling so overwhelmingly emotional.

Aware that you don't want Oscar to witness you in this state, you quickly swipe at your cheeks, hastily erasing any traces of tears from your face.

You whisk around, smiling up at him and nodding your head. "I'm good Os. It's not always going to be a perfect score, right?" His heart swells at the nickname you called him, very few people did so, but hearing it from you felt special in a way.

"He's a dick," the F1 driver bluntly responds, his tone carrying a hint of anger.

You chuckle softly, but the sigh that follows is slightly shaky. A wave of heaviness crashes over you again as the critic's hurtful words echo in your mind, your stomach sinking in response.

Oscar picks up on the shift of emotion and his eyes soften at your teary and lowering expression.

Without a word, he opens his arms and pulls you into an embrace. You don't resist; instead, you bury your face in his shoulder, your shoulders trembling as silent tears escape your eyes.

His arms encircle you tightly, offering a comforting refuge as your emotions spill over again.

His chest rises and falls with each steady breath, the rhythm providing you with some comfort despite how irritated you're getting at yourself for letting one conversation bother you this much.

As he holds you, his chest aches both for your vulnerability and the anger he feels towards the critic who provoked it. You reluctantly pull away after a minute or so, a mixture of gratitude and sadness in your eyes.

But in the moment, you can't help but feel that the money he donated for the exhibition might have gone to waste, that your efforts fell short.

Disappointing your clients is business but disappointing him felt personal, he was the reason you even had a chance to do this, and it'd turned out horribly.

"I let you down," you say quietly, and Oscar's eyebrows knit together as he studies your expression.

"How? Every piece I love, Y/N." He responds, placing his hand on your forearm, his touch warm. It sends a flurry of goosebumps over your skin which you're sure he would've picked up on considering his attention to detail.

He positions his index finger under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes which you do. Your legs suddenly feel like they're incapable of keeping you upright, your face warming under his gaze.

"You didn't let me down." He whispers.

Oscar's concern remains palpable as his hand doesn't fall back to his side. His eyes hold a depth of emotion, the colours in his eyes becoming more distinct.

The connection that you can sense increases, and it's as if the unspoken understanding between you becomes more profound in that moment.

His cologne surrounds you but it's his gaze that flickers to your lips, a fleeting but unmistakable gesture. You realise that he's leaning in closer and there's a fraction of a second when it feels like the world around you fades.

The possibility of his lips meeting yours feels tantalisingly close.

But just as the moment deepens, you're both interrupted by one of the assistants, their voice breaking through the charged atmosphere.

"Sorry," the assistant interjects, sounding somewhat hurried. "There're a few clients waiting to speak with you Y/N."

Oscar slowly pulls back; he tucks in his bottom lip between his teeth and his expression shifts from one of intimacy to one of polite neutrality.

He offers you a subtle smile, the connection lingering between you even as the assistant's words redirect your attention.

"Of course," you reply, your voice steady despite quite the hurricane of emotions storming inside of you. You look to the assistant, ready to face the responsibilities of the exhibition once again. As you move away, you steal a glance at him, his gaze locked onto you for a moment longer before he nods.

That damned connection between you and Oscar remains, but now only punctuated by unspoken possibilities.

...

"Thank you, ma'am." you say with a warm smile as the elderly woman clasps your hand, offering kind words about your artwork while draping her shawl over her shoulders.

Once she'd left, you looked around to see if there was anyone else remaining in the space. Oscar had left a while ago considering he was on a flight tomorrow to Budapest.

Though a tinge of disappointment lingered within you, you understood and bid him goodnight.

You wrapped up a little later than you would've liked, a couple of your pieces had sold so you had to coordinate transport for them.

For the remaining few, you'd wrapped them up, gathered the papers for each one before loading them into the van to have them delivered back to your studio.

Oscar eventually made it back to the space he'd rented on Airbnb, staying in a hotel for a week definitely wasn't something he was fond of doing, a neatly packaged box of takeout planted on the small table.

He threw the crumpled paper bag into the bin and settled onto the couch, his phone in hand. He opened Instagram, scrolling through his feed to pass the time it'd take for him to get sleepy.

As he tapped through the stories, your profile picture caught his eye. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he watched it whole. The familiar scenes of the exhibition unfolded before him – videos capturing the venue, the artwork.

His gaze lingered on the art as if he hadn't been there tonight, his mind wandering into the world you had created. It wasn't just the work itself that interested him; it was the glimpse they offered into your mind, your perspective, and the emotions you poured into your work.

The admiration he felt for your creativity was intertwined with the growing fondness he was developing for you as a person.

Once you'd reached home, you dropped on to the couch with a sigh of relief that the day was done.

So, when your phone started vibrating besides you, you groaned and brought it up to your ear, not bothering to take a look at the caller ID.

"Y/N," you closed your eyes and waited for the other person to respond. They stuttered first before speaking up, "should I - should I reply with my name, or do we just get into the conversation?"

You lightly gasped, chuckling and straightening up on the couch. "Oscar, sorry. I'm still in work mode I think." You rubbed your forehead and the F1 driver poked through his food with a fork on the other end.

"No harm done. You back from the venue?" He asked and you stretched your legs out in front of you, fiddling with the hem of your dress.

"Yeah, only just. Perfect timing, Piastri." He smiled at your response, "I pride myself in that."

"I'm sure you do." You joked teasingly and fell back on the couch again. The similar onset of warmth and goosebumps from earlier bubbled up again inside of you.

"I thought you would've knocked out by now." Oscar hums, swallowing his food as he traps his phone between his ear and shoulder, throwing the now empty box on to the coffee table in front of him.

"Yeah well, I needed to eat. Luckily for me, there was a long queue at every takeaway place tonight." He retorted sarcastically and you scoffed, "typical London."

He agreed wordlessly before shifting his body horizontally, propping his head up on the armrest, his legs splaying over the leather sofa.

"What did you end up getting?" He made a humming sound as he reached for the receipt he'd tossed carelessly aside, bringing it up to eye level.

"Caribbean chicken curry." He said slowly, squinting to read the half-printed letters. Your stomach rumbling beneath you helped you remember that you too hadn't eaten for majority of the day. Your last meal was breakfast with a few snacks you always have on hand.

"Sounds good. I'd kill for some chicken curry right now." You mumble and Oscar's head turns to look up at the clock hung on the wall above the television.

"How 'bout I bring some?" He asks nonchalantly and your heart skips, you stutter in your response, glancing at the digital clock blinking at you from the corner table.

"You'd do that?" You say, a little more high-pitched than you would've preferred.

He smiles, refraining to say something corny. "Yeah, well I mean it's not my bedtime for another hour so..." He trails off thus leaving you to make the decision.

You don't even care about the food anymore, your stomach is doing somersaults from the mere thought of seeing him twice in one day.

"Only if it's alright with you. If you need to sleep, please sleep." You insist and there's a pause, you could swear you hear keys jangling on the other end of the phone before Oscar confirms.

"I'll be there in a bit."

...

You're changed into some slightly more flattering pyjamas than your regular animated giraffe ones when you hear a knock on your door. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you walk the length of the hallway and reach for the doorknob.

Giving it a couple of moments, you open the door to find Oscar standing there, a warm smile on his face that mirrors your own feelings.

He's holding a paper bag up and you smile, "my saviour. Come in."

He slides past you, toeing his trainers off and pushing them up to the wall so they weren't in the direct pathway, allowing you to lead him into the living room.

He places the bag on to your wooden dining table and you sigh in delight, the smell of the food faintly wafting out of it.

"How much do I owe you?" He shakes his head, letting you take the box out of the bag.

"Only your eternal gratitude," he replies, his lips curving into a smile as he takes in the sight of your light expression, your eyes lit with appreciation.

"You already have that." You chuckle.

Eventually, you begin eating, all the while holding a conversation. With each passing minute, a subtle worry creeps in - that he might decide to leave soon. Not that you're against him getting his rest, but your own enjoyment of his company is growing stronger by the second.

The idea of the evening ending prematurely becomes less and less appealing. The warmth of his presence, the humour in his words, the hesitance you initially felt about him leaving transformed into a silent plea for him to stay, at least a little longer.

"I'm going to go up and use the bathroom, head over to the couch, make yourself comfortable." You insist and Oscar nods. His feelings he was aware of when he reached back to his place had tripled since he'd got here.

His leg had been bouncing the entire duration he'd been talking, he was nervous but albeit not understandably. He'd visited your place a few times now, he'd known you for nearly a year.

Nothing about the fluttery sensation in his belly, the excitement prior to seeing you, the attraction, the thoughtfulness, made any sense to him.

But at the same time, they made perfect sense. He likes you. A whole lot.

Realising he was getting a bit warm, he pulled the hoodie over his neck to reveal just a plain white tee underneath.

Tossing it on to the dining room chair he was previously sat on, he plops on to the couch, bringing the calf of his right leg up to rest on the knee of his left, his arm outstretching on the back of the couch.

You eventually return, having brushed your teeth since the aftertaste of the curry wasn’t a very pleasant one in your mouth.

“Do you piss for that long?" Oscar asks curiously, locking his phone and sliding it on to the table.

You scoff and feign offence as you sit next to him just a few inches away. "I don't actually, even if I did, what's it to you?" You tease and he shrugs, his lower arm draping off the couch casually, his fingertips brushing close to your shoulder.

"I was bored," he admits, his explanation falling a bit flat.

You raise an eyebrow, a mockingly sympathetic expression on your face. "Poor Oscar, suffering from boredom in my humble abode. My heart aches for you." He smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he shakes his head at your antics.

His eyes sparkle with amusement, "Well, I must say your empathy is truly heartwarming."

"That's just me, a paragon of compassion," you quip, a mischievous glint in your eyes. His proximity has your heart racing, and you're acutely aware of the playful tension that's building between you.

He tilts his head, his gaze holding yours as he leans in slightly. "You know, I was half expecting you to beg for my forgiveness."

You roll your eyes, your gaze locked on to his, you didn't mean for them to glance down to his lips, but it didn't skip past his notice either.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and the silence that followed afterwards definitely gave Oscar enough time to be able to pick up on it.

"Please forgive me Oscar, please?" You reduce your words to a whisper and he smiles, refusing to waste another second and he instantly ducks his head to catch your lips in a fervent kiss.

His actions catch you off guard, the sensation electrifying and sending a jolt of surprise through your system.

Your thoughts scatter as the world seems to narrow down to the point of contact between your lips. The kiss is eager and filled with a mixture of longing and curiosity, as if both of you have been dancing around this moment for far too long.

Your heart continues racing, and time feels suspended as his touch sends shivers up and down your spine.

The sudden intimacy of it all is exhilarating, and you find yourself responding without hesitation, your fingers instinctively finding their way to his arm, your body moving a fraction closer to his.

A soft moan escapes you, and Oscar slides his hand beneath your top, pressing his palm against your waist. A squeeze of your skin hints at you to move back slightly, creating the room needed for him to push you down on to your back.

Your lips detach for a moment as he positions himself over you, lowering his head seconds later to press them together again.

His face was level with yours when he eventually pulled away to catch his breath, and let you catch yours, his arm propping him up besides your head.

"Isn't it your bedtime?" He chuckles softly, his fingers toying with a few strands of your hair.

"I'll just have to use the plane's naptime feature." You laugh, bringing your hand up to push his hair out of his eyes.

His gaze flickers across your face, capturing the traces of your faint smile lines and the tiny beauty mark adorning your skin.

He leans in, planting a tender kiss on the mole. Meanwhile, your fingertips journey to the nape of his neck, exploring the contours of his hair.

He grins boyishly when he picks his head up again. "I think I could stay here forever," he admits, his voice a soft confession.

You playfully raise an eyebrow. "Oh really? What if the plane's naptime feature gets jealous?"

He chuckles, a low, melodious sound. "Well, I guess it'll just have to deal with a bit of competition," he remarks before his lips find yours once again.

...

Masterlist

#oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #formula one #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #mclaren #formula 1 #f1 2023 #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #formula one imagine

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froggyfics · 8 months

Text

The Deadliest Poisons Are The Sweetest - 6

Conflict arises within the Al Ghul household.

18+ only! I do not consent for this content to be viewed by minors. Please take heed of the warnings listed, though they are not entirely comprehensive. All characters are consenting adults. Do not continue reading if you are uncomfortable with the content. This story and its contents are 100% fictional, and are not affiliated with DC Comics.

Sincerely appreciate you guys for leaving comments and messages about my writing! Your interactions definitely push me to complete my work. Thank you for your patience.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Pairing: LOA!medieval!Damian Wayne x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,780

Warnings: misogyny?, smut, p in v penetration, oral sex

The Wayne Manor, in all its glory, is quite ordinary.

Yes, it is perhaps the most magnificent building in all of Gotham – but if you look closely enough, there are little quirks that can only be seen in homes that have been lived in.

Little chips on the doorframe showed its perpetual use. The floorboards creaked due to constant footsteps. The stained windows were discolored to divulge their age.

The manor gave off a completely different aura when compared to the Al Ghul Castle. The castle was built primarily for defense purposes and was not meant to be lived in. Its bloody history was obvious with its moat, drawbridges, and arrow slits.

Maybe that’s why you instantly felt more at ease at the manor. This was a home. It had no nefarious purpose. Even if the castle was purged of its malignant occupants (namely Talia), it could not erase its bloody history.

With that being said, you could not say that you were completely comfortable at the manor.

“How can I make you feel more at home?” Alfred inquires.

You’re not entirely sure how to answer his question. Maybe he could send word for your family to come to the manor instead of staying at the castle.

You push the idea to the back of your mind almost immediately after thinking it. Your family hasn’t really been acting like your kin since you’ve arrived in the capital. They’re simply too busy schmoozing to notice your plight. After all, you are their ticket to the upper echelon. Damian had you leave the castle so hurriedly that you did not even have the chance to seek them out to say farewell. You doubt they’d care about your absence anyways.

“Where’s Damian?”

“He’s still speaking with his father. I can have him come to your room as soon as he finishes his discussion.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.”

Alfred bows before exiting the room. “Your highness.”

You let out a melancholic sigh while plopping on your bed. The absolute silence that surrounds you deafens your ears. The peacefulness reminds you that this is the first time in a long time that you had to yourself.

Your ladies-in-waiting are out familiarizing themselves with the manor. Rachel returned to her own home, promising to follow you to manor after she packed her own belongings. Alice, your personal servant, is acquainting herself with the servants’ quarters.

Talia is not breathing down your neck. Your mother is no longer nit-picking at your appearance. Your father is not here to remind you of your dimwittedness. Your older brother is not hounding you to convince your in-laws to give him a council seat.

It's just you. After so much time surrounded by others, wishing for some alone time, you’re suddenly dumbfounded. How were you able to entertain yourself before him – before Damian?

The embroidery hoop sits longingly in your open chest. Your needlework was in sore need of improvement you realized after moving to Gotham. After all, the noblewoman here had no household chores to take up their time, thereby leaving them experts at embroidery.

You sit down on a sturdy wooden chair. It’s easy for you to distract yourself in the work that you’re doing. All that there is to distract you are the crackling of the candles and the occasional prick of the needle.

You nearly fall out of the chair in terror when the door opens suddenly. Your ladies-in-waiting come barging in, talking amongst themselves merrily until they notice you. Their faces sour.

“C’mere, your highness,” Matilda sneers. “Time for bed.”

A sigh escapes your lips before you can control it. Surely, you cannot be treated this way! After all, you’re a princess now!

Alas, you scurry to Matilda and turn your back towards her. Of course, you can wish for a spine all you’d like, but you’d never stand up to her. Or to Honora. Or Joan. Or Talia. You’re…you. A princess, but you were born among the lowest of aristocrats. Just a generation prior, your family were peasants! Matilda, Joan, and Honora all came from distinguished dynasties that far surpassed your own.

“Ouch!” You tried with all your might to keep quiet while Matilda yanks you about, but when her nails scratch against your back, you can’t help but let out a screech.

“Oh, hush now!”

“You’re – hurting me.”

Matilda remains quiet and you step out of your dress after it pools at your feet. The fireplace keeps the room warm, but the hostility in the air increases the temperature. She tugs the nightgown over your head rudely.

“I suppose I’ll stay the night with the princess.” Honora points to the feather mattress near the bed.

Matilda and Joan nod their heads and curtsy towards you.

“Now, is there anything else you’d like for us to do before we retire for the night, your highness?” Joan’s voice is sickly sweet, but at this point, you know her words are laced with venom.

“No, thank you. You are dismissed. Have a nice night.”

They snicker in each other’s ears and walk towards the door, while Honora looks longingly at them. Joan opens the bedroom door and gasps at the sight.

“Your highness!”

Damian leisurely strides into the room with his hands behind his back like a soldier. The occupants of the room immediately bow in respect, including you.

So much time had passed from when you told Alfred to call for Damian, that you didn’t think he’d actually come to see you. But here he was! In your room. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say to him. You didn’t remember why you asked Alfred to send Damian to you in the first place.

He clears his throat and looks around the room. His gaze lands on your discarded embroidery hoop atop your dresser. He picks it up to examine the half-finished red carnation on the fabric. Your entire body heats up in embarrassment. In your lonely haze, you barely recalled poking the red and green thread through the linen fabric. It meant nothing. Damian catches your gaze, and you hope to communicate silently that it meant nothing to you. Boredom took over and flowers were a common item to embroider. It meant nothing. You weren’t thinking about him then, and you certainly didn’t care that he was standing in front of you now.

“You lot are dismissed for now.”

The ladies scamper out of the room immediately as Damian’s command leaves his lips. No back talk. No snide comment. If only they respected you half as much as they respected him, your day-to-day life would become so much smoother.

“Alfred mentioned that you called upon me.”

Your eye twitches. “Only to say goodnight.” You stare at him until it becomes uncomfortable. “So, goodnight.”

You turn around to get under the warmth of your covers. You pull the coverlet and bedsheet out as calmly as you can, even though a combination of anger and embarrassment courses through you.

You want to lie back down fully, but Damian remains standing in place.

“Can you please call my lady-in-waiting in here?”

“No.”

“No?” you scoff. “Why not?”

“We’re having a conversation, that’s why.”

“No, we’re not,” you huff. “I have had quite a tumultuous day. If you’ll excuse me, I will retire for the night.”

“You are angry with me.”

You scowl, but say nothing in return. You are angry. In fact, you are irate. Your marriage has just begun, and you already want to escape.

“I’ve spoken with my father,” Damian interrupts the silence. “We will be staying here, at Wayne Manor. The castle is not the place for us.”

He exhales loudly when you do not respond. You are looking down at your coverlet, but can sense his movements closing in on you. He tediously sits on the farthest possible corner of the bed.

You shake your head in disbelief and face him with a glare on your face. “I do not bite, your highness, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

His smile momentarily catches you off-guard, but his chuckles reignite your anger. “You look like you will,” he responds once he notices your fury. His attempt at easing the tension does not work.

“I truly apologize for what my mother said to you. It was not…appropriate to say the least. Here at the manor, I can assure you that no one will question our marital bed like she did.”

“Tell that to my ladies-in-waiting. You do know that they are your mother’s spies, right? They’ll report everything to her.”

He shrugs. “I have been known to keep a loyal household.” He winks at you. “I have my ways.”

You simply can’t stand it. He’s being so…friendly. It irks you.

“Thank you, your highness. T’is late. I will not keep you up.”

Your attempt to dismiss Damian is ignored. He tuts and closes the distance between you two. His new position is right at your side. His thigh touches your own, with just sheets of fabric separating the two of you.

“You’re angry with me,” he repeats.

“What’s it to you?” You do your best to keep your voice steady. “It’s not like you care.”

“Of course, I do. Of course, I care.”

A humorless laugh escapes your throat. “I’m not stupid. I have not grown up with your fancy tutors or privileged background, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stu –”

“You don’t have to say it for me to know that you and everyone else think it!” you nearly shout. “Your highness –”

“We’ve been over this.” He rubs his forehead. “You are my wife. Refer to me as husband or Damian –”

“I am not your wife!” It’s unintentional, but some of your spit lands on his face. You fight to get the covers off of you, jumping out of bed. You can only stomp a few steps away from Damian before his arm grabs your bicep.

You’re pulled back towards him and he swivels you around to face him once again.

“I am not your wife!” you repeat.

“What are you going on about, woman?” His own anger is evident due to the bulging vein on his neck. “Have you hit your head and lost your memory already?”

You speak through gritted teeth. “Your highness, I am not sure why you have roped me into your lies, but clearly there is another motive behind our so-called marriage.” You rip yourself from his hands, and point at him menacingly. “I don’t think I care to know why you have lied to me, but just know I’m onto you. You cannot deceive me. I know that we are in a sham marriage.”

Damian’s eyes nearly transform to coal black, the green is no longer visible. You slowly drop your accusatory finger, mentally kicking yourself for your tantrum. His disposition is quite fearsome, you realize. You were admittedly terrified of Prince Damian, who comes from a long line of terrifying and tyrannical ancestors.

“Careful there, woman,” he taunts. “You are speaking to your prince.”

“I thought you were just my husband,” you sneer before you realize what you said. You clamp your mouth shut.

His eyes narrow dangerously. “Same difference. Do you need reminding?”

Well, now you’ve done it. You were going to be beheaded come sunrise, weren’t you? Why couldn’t you have just shut up? Why did you have to believe the lies he said in the garden? Who cares, he’s a man – they all lie. What difference does it make that your man joins in the age-old tradition of lying?

Damian waits expectantly for some sort of response from you, while your mind races.

“No…husband.”

Damian smiles, but you can tell it’s the coldblooded kind. He takes one step, then another, and then one more until he’s toe-to-toe with you.

You look up meekly at your prince. He towers over you and it dawns on you just how precarious your situation is. It has been just a day since you’ve married. The marriage could easily be annulled, especially at Damian’s behest. You are replaceable. There are countless others you would kill to be the heir’s wife.

And who could replace Damian? Quite literally, no one. Your family would forever be disgraced. No one would want to interact with the family of the heir’s former wife. It would be an embarrassment. Not to mention, you would forever be the laughingstock of the kingdom. The day-old princess.

He cups your face, and his thumbs brush your hot cheeks. His other fingers grip the back of your neck, nearly painfully so. “Well, I think you do.”

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when he plants his lips on your forehead. They travel to your nose before one hand shifts the collar of your nightgown.

“Admittedly, t’is my fault.” He suckles the tender skin at the base of your neck. “I have not truly turned you into a wife yet.” The implications of his words make you shiver, along with the wet kisses he leaves up and down your neck. His actions leave you in shock. This was not the way you expected to be…punished? Reprimanded? You’re not sure what exactly Damian is planning.

He kisses the pulsing point in your neck and the sensitivity nearly makes your moan. You bite your lip in retaliation, but of course, he notices it.

You want to retort, but his thumb rubs against your nipple. You breathe out heavily as he continues his ministrations, your fiery attitude withers away as your nipple hardens under his touch.

His hands slowly make their way to your hips and he grabs them firmly to guide you in the direction of the bed.

You yelp when he pushes you onto the bed roughly, nearly landing completely on your back, but you catch yourself by your arms. You watch in utter curiosity as Damian rolls your nightgown over your knees, exposing you the warm chill of the room. He bites his lip lewdly and sinks to his knees.

You yelp again when he pulls you closer to the edge by the ankles.

“You can watch if you want.” He gives you wet kisses from your ankle till your inner thigh. When he reaches your thigh, you attempt to close your legs around his head. It’s simply too sensitive.

He pushes your knees apart and begins the cycle again on the other leg. This time, when he reaches your inner thigh, he takes hold of your legs and spreads them as far apart as he can.

You squirm and squirm as he continues kissing your inner thighs.

“Damian,” you whimper.

“The lioness suddenly cannot seem to roar, only mewl,” he teases.

You can feel his hot breath on your innermost parts. The intimacy of the situation makes you grip the bed, but once he latches onto you, your hands cramp in the air.

“Oh! Ooh! Oh.” You moan loudly while he deliciously eats you out. His tongue sloppily latches onto your sensitive nub, but he occasionally leaves you long, languid licks on the entire region.

His hand snakes up your body, shirking your nightgown up until it’s over your shirt. He tweaks your nipples, and you can feel your abdomen tightening in response.

You can feel the cooling wetness when Damian finally releases his hold on your clitoris. You want to mourn the absence of his tongue, but the mourning period ends as quickly as it began when he starts to rub his thumb in firm, circular motions.

There are so many sensations happening simultaneously. His thumb on your clit. His rough shirt agitating your nipples. Wet kisses on your neck. His fingers occasionally swiping the wetness leaking from your hole and spreading it around. You couldn’t stop the tide even if you wanted to.

The only thing to hold onto is his biceps. It starts in small waves. A strange feeling arises in you, but you don’t want it to stop. It roils in faster and faster peaks. You bite your lip in anticipation. When it finally arrives, a sound escapes your throat that has never come out before. Your muscles contract as you reach your peak.

Damian’s lips leave your neck to latch onto your mouth. You moan into his mouth as the feeling rides itself out. It’s so overwhelming that all modesty flies out the window. You don’t care how loud you are. You don’t care how you must look. All that surrounds you is the pleasure that Damian extracted from you.

The kiss you share is unlike the one from the day before at your wedding. Your wedding kiss was short and sour. This one is long and sensual.

You don’t want the kiss to end, but Damian takes the initiative to pull back. He maintains eye contact with you while he removes his tunic and pants. You obscenely take in the sight of his defined abs and strong muscles, but you stop once your eyes meet his hardened member.

You jump slightly when he suddenly spits on it. His hand moves up and down to spread his saliva around. The sight is so lewd that you turn your head to avoid it.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, beloved.”

His words force you to look once more at him. His pushes your shoulders down to where you lay flat on the bed. You crane your neck to at least look at what he’s doing. He holds your neck up with his hand to give you a better view once he realizes what you’re trying to do.

He pokes at your entrance. “Beloved, breathe for me.”

You have no choice but to follow the instructions of the man that just had his face in between your thighs moments ago. You inhale, then exhale, and repeat the process.

The pain halts your breath. You hiss as the head of his penis is thrust into you. He shallowly inserts the tip in and out, and leans down to pepper your face with light kisses. Slowly but surely, your hiss turns into a whimper. In response, he thrusts deeper and deeper. He whispers tenderly into your ear.

“You feel amazing, my love.”

“This is what I should have done last night.”

“I am all yours.”

You don’t even realize you’ve shed a tear until he swipes it away. The gentleness of the moment wipes away the last month from your memory. All that exists is here and now.

It hurts, but there’s an equal amount of pleasure licking behind the pain. Damian’s ever-increasing groans only add to your own desire. He impales you with every thrust, but he does so as slowly as possible. You can tell he could be rougher if he wanted, as evident by his muscular figure.

He leans his forehead onto your own, and closes his eyes. You keep yours open to watch him pant. There’s a glow on his skin that highlights every handsome feature about him.

His breathing becomes erratic and so do his thrusts. His grunts are nearly animalistic until finally he groans loudly in delight. You can feel a gush of wetness around your entrance as he lazily thrusts himself in and out of you. He stills himself inside of you at last before practically crushing you under his weight.

You can hardly breathe under the pressure and feebly push upwards against his chest with your hands that are trapped under him. He pulls out of you completely and rolls over to your side, still panting heavily.

He shifts you onto your side to face him and pecks your entire face with light kisses. You giggle at his show of affection, wishing that he would never stop.

But he does. Everything good must come to an end. With one final peck on your lips, he rubs his hands up and down your back before getting up from the bed. The warmth of his body escapes you and you find yourself quite cold suddenly. The fireplace still burns brightly, but Damian’s touch provided a fiery heat that could not be replicated through any other means.

Once he’s finally dressed, he leans down to give you a passionate kiss. You return the affection to the best of your naïve ability.

“Our marriage is now officially sealed. Do you feel like our union is a sham still?”

You squirm in embarrassment. You recall the argument that preceded your intimate counter, but shame overcomes you at the way you behaved.

You nod your head in response. “I apologize, Damian. This past month has just been a whirlwind for me.”

He gazes at you while tying his pants tight. “I understand.” He reaches down and kisses your knuckles, like he did when you first arrived in Gotham. “Goodnight, beloved.”

He strides towards the exit. “Damian, will we spend any time together tomorrow? I’d love a tour of the manor with you as my guide.”

“I don’t think that is possible. I’ll be very busy.” He attempts to walk away, but is stopped by your questioning again.

“Can we at least have dinner together?” He doesn’t turn to face you entirely, but he does tilt his head in your direction.

“Would that make you happy?” he finally says.

“Yes,” you immediately answer. You wanted what just happened to continue to happen. Not necessarily the sex, although that was a definitive plus, but the closeness.

You felt so much closer to Damian within just a night of emotional intimacy that your negative memories of him from the past month shift towards the back of your head. Every kiss he gave you tonight replaced every snide comment made in your direction, the loneliness you felt, and the confusion regarding your relationship status.

“Then, we shall have dinner.” With that, he leaves the room, leaving you bare on the bed.

His absence makes the pain and soreness in your abdomen and genitals evident. You clutch your belly in an attempt to soothe the cramps away.

Your door bursts open. You scramble to cover yourself with something, with anything, but it’s too late.

Honora glares at you as she makes her way towards the bed. The best you can do in your fumbled state is cover yourself with your arms and make yourself as small as possible.

She looks you over, and then at the red and transparent stains on the coverlet.

“Get off the bed,” she snaps. She exits the room and returns a few moments later with two servant girls.

“Hurry up,” she barks at the servants as they scurry to change to the sheets. “I’d like to get some sleep before the sun rises.”

#dc comics #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne x y/n #league of assassins #loa!damian wayne #damian wayne #damian wayne smut #medieval!Damian Wayne

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moonlitstoriess · 13 days

Text

Across the Universe-ch.1 (Azriel x reader, eventual Fenrys x reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terassen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

See masterlist

A/n: hey everyone! so this is my first work on here and I just hope you will enjoy it. Please do not hesitate to comment whether you like it/want more of it or if you have some good constructive criticism to give! I will give some clarifications at the end of this chapter as to not give away any spoilers beforehand:)

Being a female Illyrian with wings was never meant to be easy. Growing up and not knowing your parents was perhaps the greatest pain a child could endure. Especially if that child grows up in a cruel place like the Illyrian camps. For the first 20 years of her life, y/n knew nothing but pain, mistreatment and hatred as she spent her youth at the cruel hands of an old Illyrian bastard. Of course, what y/n went through was never kept as a secret but it is not like anyone cared anyway. This was Illyria, the mistreatment of females was not a surprise. In fact, the vile monsters who called themselves warriors, encouraged it.

And just like any other female unlucky enough to be born in Illyria and have wings, y/n had to get her wings clipped. Even after all those years, that moment that changed everything for y/n is still so vivid in her mind...

The leaves in the forest crunched as his boots kept stepping on them while dragging her through the maze of trees.

"Please, please I beg you do not take my wings!"

He kept on ignoring her. She called him a 'He' because y/n would never willingly say his disgusting name. Not when he was the cause of all her trauma and illnesses. She kept thrashing, begging and trying to get away but it was useless.

"I beg yo-"

Her words were cut short as a slap was delivered to her face.

"Shut you mouth! you useless bitch"

She never begged. No, y/n was strong, even then, at her weakest she was strong. She never begged. Not when he would burn her hands, not when he would whip her back, not when he would beat her up because she forgot to do a chore. But now she begged. She begged for her only form of freedom, her precious wings. At that moment y/n knew what had to be done. This was the last straw.

"Stay like that on your knees and do NOT move, or else you won't like the consequences."

As he turned around to search for his tools, y/n sat there on the ground in the middle of this dark forest just outside the outskirts of the village and knew she could not go down like those before her. For 20 years she submitted to his every will but not now, not again. Weak coward is what she has been and now it was time to change that.

When he turned around, y/n was holding her only form of protection, her pocket knife that she would always hide under her clothes. When he was close enough, y/n gave a final prayer to the mother and attacked him with a sloppy move that would result in either her freedom or death.

"It is time to truly make you bound to me you bi-"

He did not get to finish his words as the knife he did not see in the dark, found its mark in his throat. Crimson red blood was everywhere as that monster choked on his own blood like a damn fool and finally, slumped to the ground.

The rest? Well, the rest became history as y/n left that night with his blood still soaking her own clothes and body and his fresh corpse laying on the ground. She would never let anyone ever dictate her life again. Never would she be weak again. And so, for the next 80 years of her life, y/n went from one place to another and taught herself how to fight and be like a warrior. Her name began spreading around like wildfire, as people started talking of the Illyrian female who not only managed to keep her wings but also killed her abuser.

She helped hundreds, by recruiting victims of different horrible events and teaching them how to fight and protect themselves. Y/n became a legend especially in the eyes of female Illyrians who tried to follow her lead. This was also the reason why y/n one day opened her door to see the High Lord of the Night Court waiting for her. The smile on Rhysands face was blinding as he praised y/n while also telling her about how it was a dream of his to get rid of the old Illyrian traditions and rules set against the females. It was on that eventful day that the High Lord also offered y/n to join his court and make a very impactful visit to Illyria after all these years to help him make those changes.

At the time, it was a huge step for y/n as she delegated her role as a trainer to her first-best student who was more than honored to continue y/n's job in the training academy. When she came to Velaris she was in awe of its beauty and comfort. The inner circle welcomed her with open arms and although y/n was a little distant at first, she soon got along well with everyone and especially Cassian as they trained daily together. It was also the time when the first seeds of her crush on Azriel were planted.

Therefore, by the age of 100, y/n was an official member of the night court, a legendary figure who started to make her changes during her visits to the Illyrian camps. This time, she went in not as a weakling, but as a feared and well-respected fighter, female and most of all, Illyrian. But even with all of the fierce titles that she got, y/n still felt like turning into a small, shy and meek girl whenever Azriel was around. Rhysand sending them together on constant missions did nothing to ease her increasing infatuations with the famed shadowsinger either.

Unfortunately, they got closer during the darkest of times when Rhysand sacrificed himself to protect his court and city from Amarantha. It was then that, Azriel and y/n shared their deepest, most raw and intimate moments with one another while also doing their best to protect the city in which they were locked in thanks to Rhysands wards. Those moments were what led y/n to confess her true feelings to the spymaster during the 4th year of what would be Amarantha's 50 year reign of terror. After that day, they truly became lovers in all aspects that mattered. Even though that unmistakable bond of a mate did not appear, y/n knew it was only a matter of time before they both felt it. There was no other way.

Today, sitting here on her lovers chair in his office, y/n felt proud of herself and her loved ones for overcoming so much. Rhysand and Feyre under the mountain, the war against Hybern, Nesta and Elain becoming high fae, and the attack on Velaris all left many scars both visible and invisible on everyone. Knowing that everyone has finally found some form of happiness and that her lover is safe with her should have made y/n happy, excited even. But as of late, she could not bring herself to feel anything because Azriel was not the male she once knew.

For a very long time now, the shadowsinger has been distancing himself from y/n in favor of spending more time with a specific redheaded priestess, Gwyneth. What was once called the hour of reading by y/n and Az in the comfort of their home, turned into reading with Az and Gwyn in the library. Even during training, Gwyn would respectfully decline y/n or anyone elses offers to train her and would instead ask Azriel to teach her. He would always happily oblige, leaving y/n alone as Cassian trained with Nesta. At first, y/n tried to understand and reason by thinking that since Azriel was the one to save the priestess from facing a terrible fate in the library of Sangravah, it was only fair that she felt safe around him. However, the other priestesses were also saved by Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand and yet, y/n never saw them be as clingy as Gwyn was towards Azriel.

The final nail in the coffin came when Azriel started coming home late and locking himself up in his office and leaving early in the morning. This meant that y/n never saw her lover, let alone kissed or made love to him. That is how it led to her finally coming to his office to wait for him and get some answers to her questions.

"Y/n? W-what are you doing here?"

That slightly nervous voice drew her back into reality as y/n looked back from the window showing the beautiful city, to see Azriel standing in the doorway with dishelved hair and a sort of scared look in his eyes, no matter how much he tried to not show it, y/n knew him like the back of her hand. Being together for 52 years does that to you. This was not a good sign then, for Azriel never showed such a shameful expression and his shadows were nowhere in sight.

As y/n got up from the chair and started walking towards him, her mind and soul clinged onto that last thread of hope that the male whom she loved was not unfaithful to her, that he would explain everything and she would see that she was making silly little assumptions out of nothing.

Unfortunately, all that hope came crashing down as y/n got close enough to him and smelled that scent of another female, that scent that belonged to...Gwyn. And if the small dark marks that were peeking above the spymasters shirt were any indicator, they did more than just read together.

Y/n felt like she was drowning, like a huge mountain just crashed down on her and she was left under all that rubble to suffocate and die. She was frozen in her spot, unfeeling and unmoving as she felt her body shut down completely. Clearly, this only meant that she would shatter soon enough but not here, not in front of him. Never would she ever be weak infront of any male. And so, with a voice that conveyed no emotion, she asked, "How long?"

"Y/n ple-"

"How long, Azriel."

Azriel sighed as he looked anywhere but at her when he said, "Since the first time Nesta brought her to train with us."

"But that was 2 years ago."

After seeing him nod very slightly, she reigned in her tears that were burning the backs of her eyes, and asked one simple question,

"Why?"

Now it was the shadowsingers turn to look as emotionless as he could while saying, "Because she is my mate y/n."

Mate, mate, mate ofcourse he would have a mate, no matter how many years they were together, neither of them ever felt that bond snap. Foolish, so foolish to think, to hope that they were destined to be, that their bond would snap any moment. But how cruel can one be to hide the truth for 2 years, To go behind her back, even if Gwyn is his mate, and be unfaithful? To not admit the truth as if y/n wouldn't understand. And Gwyn? how could she never once mention it to y/n during all those moments spent together? How, how how..

As if that pain was not enough, Azriel confessed, "I am sorry y/n but truly, did you think we were fated to be? I always knew what we had was temporary, that we were never going to have a happy end as the cauldron would give us both our own mates. My love for you has always only been platonic...have you not noticed that I never once said 'I love you'? I saw you as a friend, a companion in whom I could loose myself for a while as I waited for my mate to come. Truly, you were good, so good to me, kind and caring and yet, so foolish. You imagined and expected too much of us y/n...for you I was a male whom you desperately loved but for me, you were simply someone who I could spend my time with until my mate arrived. I love Gwyn, I have taken her to the house of wind multiple times and made love to her there, I have spent my time understanding and creating as many memories as possible with her. From the moment I saw her 2 years ago when Nesta brought her, I felt this pull towards her and now...now I could never get enough. I do not say this to hurt you, but to make you see the truths that we were never what you wanted us to be."

Y/n took a deep inhale, the only indicator of her emotions at the moment while still processing his words and asked her final question while still staring at the wall behind him, "Who knew?"

Azriel was confused for a minute because after all that he had just confessed, she only asked that? Not to mention how much it was killing him to not understand her current emotions and expressions as y/n stayed completely unflinching, staring at the wall and expecting an answer from him. So, with a shameful sigh, the spymaster replied, "Everyone knew."

At that moment, y/n knew 2 things with clarity. First, never should you trust someone, no matter how close you are with them. Never should you give your heart to someone because in the end, they shall shatter it anyway. In this life, you are always on your own. Y/n has always been alone even after joining Rhys, y/n walked her own lonely road. Second, her "family" were traitorous liars. For the past 2 years as y/n descended back into her depressive moments, as she got flashbacks of those horrible times from her youth spent in the Illyrian village, as her panic attacks and insecurities started to resurface, the inner circle did nothing to pull her out of it. But what else would you expect from them? of course they would protect Azriel and his actions, no matter how disgusti-

"Y/n? please talk to me, I am going mad here with your lack of words and emotions. Please sweetheart." as Azriel's hand made contact with y/n's wrist, it was as if an electric shock brought her back to life.

Y/n slapped him right across the face as she said her next words in a tone so cruel and unfeeling, her enemies did not even hear that tone before meeting their death's at her hands, "If you touch me again, my knife shall find it's mark between your eyes, so unless you do not want to leave your precious mate a widow so soon, I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight, shadowsinger."

"Y/n ple-"

"Oh and, since you are such a loyal dog to him, do tell your rotten high lord that I am leaving his rotten court. I shall be gone by sunrise."

As she turned to leave his office throught he backdoor, Azriel did something that Y/n had never known him capable of doing. He fell on his knees as tears threatened to spill from his eyes and begged in a voice so shaky, y/n could only think whether he was even real.

"Y/n I beg you, let us talk properly, Gwyn kept telling me how I must let you know. That she hates being a secret but I was such a coward I-I..plea-"

"I do not care what Gwyn has to say. Save your tears and pleas for someone who cares Azriel, you are right, you are a coward and perhaps you always were one for playing with my feelings in such a cruel way. Do not come after me or I swear I won't hesitate to end you with my bare hands."

With that, y/n turned her back on the male for whom she would once move the mountains for, for whom she would sacrifice herself for. The male whom she loved so much and yet, this whole time he toyed with her, he saw her as a placeholder. What a blind fool have you been y/n.

The second y/n made sure that Azriel left the house, she broke down in tears. For the first time in a very long time, y/n cried unstoppable tears. But that moment came to an abrupt end as she heard a voice. Whether it was within her mind or from somewhere else she did not know and did not care because even though the voice sounded so far away, she got this immediate urge within her soul to go find it.

Deep down, y/n knew she should let it be, that she is possibly imagining things and that she should start packing now but that urge within her tightened as if wanting her to go find the source of the voice. So, with a final wipe of her tears, y/n stood and leapt through her window, spreading her wings and following that string to reach the distant voice.

As y/n began nearing the source of the sound, she realized that it is coming from the house of wind. She should have turned around and left at that second because seeing this house now only brought back Azriels words about how he spent his time here with Gwyn. Atleast that is what the y/n who was not possesed by an urge would do. But alas, this thread only grew stronger within her, leaving her no other choice.

As she began walking down the halls of the house, y/n looked back on all her memories with the inner circle here. Once, those memories would have made her smile fondly but now, they only make her feel anger and disgust. They knew this whole time...such liars, such tra-

No...this could not be it. The urge within her must have been playing a foolish trick because no way was the voice coming from this room. But that urge within her had died down as if finally only the double doors in front of y/n were stopping her from getting to the voice. But this room wasn't just any room. It was the warded room containing all 3 objects of the Trove AND the Book of Breathings.

From here, she could clearly hear the ugly, hissing voice of the book saying, "Welcome, The Terror."

"Why are you hesitating? Open the door child, open it."

As if on cue, the wards around the room disappeared and the doors opened for her. Y/n could only be confused for a second before an unknown power forced her to walk into the area. And there it was, that book sitting on the circular table in the middle of the room, beckoning for her to come closer.

"The Iron Phoenix, you finally came to learn your destiny."

Y/n scoffed as she looked at the silly book from a distance and said, "Did you truly waste my time by making me come to you so that you could spit your nonsense at me? I have enough to deal with already, I do not need another headache from you."

As she turned around to leave, the book hissed loudly, "Do not mock me you fool, I know your deepest secret Winged Fury, a secret so precious not even your once beloved lover knows."

At that, y/n turned around with a shocked expression all over her face and asked, "How? How do you know of it?"

"You can not know more than me, Valkyrie, I am the one who knows it all."

It seems today was the day when y/n had to find out just how little she knows about everything. She had enough, and this stupid book will be the unfortunate one to be the outlet of her emotions. Furious, she took quick strides to reach it as she began, "How dare you?! you call me here to spit nothing of value at me while I just went through the wo-"

A sudden wave of power hit her as y/n felt like she was stuck in one place right in front of the book. Her walls, her mental walls they...they were being melted down as she felt her mind fall into some hypnotic spells.

With a voice so beautiful and eerily soothing, the book says, "Open me, open me Braveheart and see your true destiny."

Somewhere, the last sane part of her was telling y/n that this was wrong, that whatever will happen once she opens the book won't be good. Unfortunately, y/n seemed unable to follow that voice as her fingers made contact with the cover of the ancient book and flipped it open.

The book started flipping its own pages until it landed on the one with language so old, y/n knew that it was not remembered within the past history. Her mouth began moving against her will as she began saying the words on the book in such an experienced manner, it felt as if the ancient object had posessed her.

At some point, y/n could hear distant voices...was that Rhys? Az? Cas? or no, no maybe that is Nesta or another female who is screaming? Y/n could not move, could not think, as if her sole purpose was to finish the spell. She could distantly feel her body loosing its physicality. Was she disappearing? Was she becoming a ghost?

As she was saying the final words of the book, y/n turned around to find everyone from the inner circle in the room trying to get closer to her. Despair was all over their faces but it was Azriels tear striken face that y/n saw for the last time before darkness welcomed her.

"You are home now, Stormbreaker, you are home."

"Now, you shall unfold your true destiny."

With a jolt, y/n shot her eyes open and got up from...was this a grassy hill? as she turned to look behind her, there was a small lake with a white...is that a deer? What is this place? Where was she?

But y/n did not get to explore anything else as she felt the cool edge of a knife press into her throat from behind as a male voice said to her, "You move, you die."

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

A/n: Damn this was fun to write! What secret does y/n have? I did leave a very tiny clue on that for anyone who might find it;) Anyway, I know most of you were maybe expecting Az to cheat with Elain but i am a Gwynriel shipper through and through and just could not think of Elain being such a homwrecker. Of course I am pretty sure Gwyn isn't one either butttt just for the sake of plot ya know. This won't be the last time we see the acotar characters as they will appear hopefully in the later chapters. But for now, sit back and watch y/n's new journey in this new world. P.s.Fenrys ;)

#books #fantasy #fanfics #sarah j. maas #throne of glass #acotar #azriel #fenrys moonbeam #Azriel x reader #bookish #a court of thorns and roses #fiction #fenrys x reader #togxacotar

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moethewriter · 7 months

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Hunger games Renaissance is so real. Could you do a fic where finnick and r live by the water after the rebellion. Idk I'm just picturing a quiet life which they deserve !!!

Ask and you shall reciecve! I love how we are all going through a hunger games renaissance hah! This was slightly nervewracking to write! I've been out of the game so long! --- TITLE: And I shall give you, WORD COUNT: 1k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNINGS: NONE TAGS: Lot's of stupid fluff and introspection (in some ways) by the reader SUMMARY: A quiet life had always seemed impossible, until it wasn't A/N: So this isn't beta read and quite literally my FIRST fanfic in four or five years! A bit rusty but I hop eyou enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing Anon! I'm always open to constructive criticism on how to make my writing, and your reading experience better! Lot's of love, Moe ___ The first thing you noticed was the stillness.

The waves gave no sense of urgency, no rushing and rumbling to its next destination … just a subtle lull as they crashed ever so lightly against the rocks along the shoreline. It was oddly warm for an Autumn day, but you weren’t complaining. The warmth was something you cherished, and longed for.

The warmth brought laughter, and it brought many days laying in the sand as you spoke in hushed whispers, basking in the heat of the day. The warmth brought Finnick’s smile, that you so desperately loved, as he ran through the waves to cool himself, waving shells or sea glass or anything interesting he had found, gathered for your collections.

It had been over a year since the rebellion and any moment spent with him was magical and everything you ever could have wanted. The quietness of your small home by the sea, the domesticity of your day to day life as you both grew and both allowed yourself to become okay with the stillness … Love had gotten you by, if there was one thing you could always count on it was being loved by the man with who had the biggest heart in the entire world.

“For you.” He had said, holding out a small crystal glass that shimmered in the sunlight, he doted on you day in and day out, though you insisted it had never been necessary.

But Finnick did not care, instead saying that you had all the time in the world to be spoiled, and he was more than willing to give it to you. In return you made sure he never wanted for anything, if he was willing to give you the moon, you were more than willing to return the stars.

“Thank you.” You said, gratefully taking the glass of lemonade, and sipping it.

Things always seemed more gentle now, an odd thing after how you had both lived for so long. There had never been roughness between you, never a moment of doubt but the world you had been born into didn’t allow for moments like this to be had. But now … now you were content and you were … happy. Happiness had been so foreign at first, allowing yourself to feel it more than you ever had before … the tiniest glimpses of it showing through your life. It had always seemed so impossible reaching it, but alas here it was … shimmering beneath the sunlight in District Four.

You think in a way you had always known that happiness could be found with Finnick.

You think of the boy who had stood up for you all of those years ago, Finnick. The boy who had been through too many things far too young … Finnick. The boy who had become the Capitol Darling … Finnick. The boy who had always had your heart, and always would … Finnick.

But this Finnick … The Finnick who brushed your hair and made dinner. The man who built your house piece by piece on a vision you had both created together. Finnick who held you like you were the most beautiful treasure in all of Panem.

This Finnick who is so at ease that a smile could come from seeing a bird fly over your home from the balcony, or when you simply said “I love you.”

This Finnick, your husband and the man who had never given up on you.

He leaned in to kiss you softly, holding your face with a touch so light you could barely feel it.

He felt so much lighter these days, so free and full of life like the boy you had once known.

“Anything for you.” Finnick smiled back, a smile that could make your heart race a million times faster. He traced your jawline with the pad of his thumb, outlining every possible scar and mole that dotted your skin, and kissed your temple. “Always.”

“You flatter me, Mr. Odair.” You whispered, leaning into his touch. “Has anyone ever told you, you have a silver tongue.” You teased, a bright smile spreading across your face.

“Maybe once or twice.” He chuckled, pulling you into an embrace as you both hit the sand with a soft ‘thud’, your body relaxed instantly against his despite the roughness of the sand below. “But no one’s ever been you.”

“No one’s ever been you either, Finn.” You tell him, leaning in to kiss his jaw, a small gesture and one of love.

Though everything seems to be filled with love these days, and you didn’t mind one bit.

“Maybe soon we can start on the painting.” He whispered into your ear, fingers running through your hair, unknotting any tangles that had come from the sea water during your early morning swim. “After all … you are my muse.”

“I’d love that.” You said, softly, closing your eyes.

You held onto one another for what felt like hours, but you knew time had barely passed. The sound of the waves, the quiet chirping of birds in the distance calling to their brothers and sisters. The ocean breeze and sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine, as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. The sun casting its light on both of you, bathing you in the beautiful rays of daylight.

Moments like these were no longer few and far in between. The days you spent together, and the time you had to now truly be committed and fully loved would never stop. Even those days, the long terrible days that seemed to darken the doorstep of the new life you had built, were far easier to bare knowing that you had him, and he had you. The life that you had always wanted, no longer a simple dream of two teenagers sitting under the stars wishing and hoping that you would be free.

“A quiet life.” he had once told you, under that moon. “That’s what I want after all of this.” And now under the sun, it was the life you did lead.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #the hunger games #hunger games #fluff #moeswriting #god my first fanfic in years #who would have thought #writing

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familyabolisher · 1 year

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re: this post, would you perhaps be able to reword it? i understand the words you're using individually, and i think i might kind of get what you're trying to say, but it's just one very long sentence and so i'm having trouble parsing it! (wait--i just reread it. initial question canceled, mostly--now: what alternatives might we have available to us?) and what does this section: "it feels all too easy to jump from that to then just stymieing our ability to actually describe the textual violences necessary to the discursive construction of that normativity in the first place" mean, exactly? thank you as always for running this blog. :-)

What I’m describing is a critical phenomenon wherein people will approach (usually canonical) horror texts which reify hegemony by ‘identifying’ with the monster who is generally figured in terms of alterity in some capacity; by extricating, for example, a queer narrative out of what is in fact a homophobic one, and treating this as something of a ‘reclamatory’ practice in which one ‘relates’ to that which the text figures as monstrous. The most common instance of this which I see is people’s discussion of Carmilla as an erotic lesbian romance; other examples include Dracula, or Frankenstein, or the socially currency invested in the idea of a ‘madwoman in the attic’ (ie. Jane Eyre).

I don’t think this is like, a practice that we need to do away with entirely, lol – but I do think that a) there are marginalised writers + filmmakers who are making horror with actual teeth, with actual radical edge, and we don’t need to keep pretending like this approach of reclamation-through-identification with a monster in a v normative work is all we have available to us when politically subversive horror does very much exist, and b) this critical practice is often vvv limited in its discursive scope, and tends to lack the kind of materialist analysis that I would consider necessary in talking about literatures of alterity/marginality/violence.

When I talked about stymieing our ability to describe the textual violences necessary to the discursive constructions of that normativity in the first place, I meant that overfocusing on these texts as “reclaimed” articulations of an essentially queer (or otherwise ‘othered’) imaginary can inhibit our ability, as critics, to describe how those texts in fact do not think of their monstrous figures as worthy of a sympathetic or appreciative narrative. I mentioned Carmilla above – we can talk about Carmilla as erotically lesbian, sure, but how far down the line in talking about it as a Queer Narrative do we lose track of the fact that the text itself asserts the sexual norms of white Christian hegemony to necessarily succeed over the perversion of the corruptive, predatory lesbian, or as an Anglo-Irish work positing Carmilla as an Irish woman (and thus a contaminant threat to Anglo-Irish society)? At what point in adulating Dracula as articulating a particular form of queer, effeminate Jewishness destabilising and threatening Jonathan and Mina’s persistent heterosexuality do we lose track of Dracula as having grown out of the fear that the new waves of Jewish immigration in London’s East End were vampiric sources of contagion, or its possible relationship to the antisemitic smears that grew out of the Jack the Ripper murders? Or like, taking Bertha Mason (or ‘the madwoman in the attic,’ because truly, v few people using this phrase are actually thinking about Bertha Mason lol) as a kind of feminist paragon – at what point do we begin to overlook the fact that Jane Eyre is a v racist text?

These aren’t necessarily contradictory approaches – like, for example, you can talk about ‘identifying’ with Dracula as emblematic of British Jewish assimilation and the discontents thereof whilst also talking about Dracula as an antisemitic text, even if the analysis in the former isn’t especially coherent – but the focus of the ‘identification’ treatment is often incredibly limited in its scope, and those limitations can often be detrimental to one’s ability to talk frankly and honestly about what a text actually says and does. A very good example such limitations is that of Frankenstein; an identification with Frankenstein’s monster as an entrypoint for textual analysis obfuscates the way in which Frankenstein constructed a discursive template by which the ameliorationist argument against the immediate abolition of slavery could be argued for. (The linked post lays this out v clearly, but the cited source is Mary Mulvey’ Roberts’ ‘Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, and Slavery,’ in Dangerous Bodies: Historicising the Gothic Corporeal). What I basically mean is, when we talk about relating to, identifying with, ‘reclaiming’ the monster, we have to have a real grasp on what it is we’re trying to impose such a practice on, and what the actual substance of the source text has to say for itself. I’m not one for assuming a text as a body with a set of metaphysical properties that we as critics are tasked to find – I think the relationship between text and reader ought to be dialectical – but part of that dialectical process means situating the text in its material social context and responding appropriately.

#ask

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lumi-nescentt · 7 months

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And I Hope I Never Lose You, I Hope It Never Ends

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader

Warnings: mention of Lance's crash during quali in Singapore

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Dating a racing driver has its perks but seeing your boyfriend crash might be a little too much when no one seems to notice you.

A/N: I've started writing this right after Singapore but I had no idea how to continue it until tonight but I finally managed to write something I like so here you go :)

Lance knew what most people thought of him, how he was here because of his dad, a pure result of nepotism. While he knew that his dad had played a big part in his first F1 seat, Lance liked to think that he had earned his right to stay in the cut-throat sport through hard work and dedication. He had to believe that or else the critics would get to him and he couldn’t afford it.

After all, he was glad he had someone in his corner who’d do anything to help him. Lawrence was always pushing him in the best way possible and Lance was very grateful for the opportunity he had been given and the love he bathed in. From what he knew of the other drivers, not everyone had the chance of having a father who only had kind words and constructive criticism to give.

With a family like his own, Lance had never felt alone or unlovable. In fact, his family had been his everything from the moment he was old enough to understand what the word meant and for a long time, his family’s love had been enough.

As he grew up, Lance watched his sister go through love and heartbreak, allowing people to get close to her and embracing them in all the love she had to give. Chloe was a solar being, she gave and she gave, expecting almost nothing in return but as the heir of such a fortune, she got taken advantage of quite a lot in her teenage years.

Lance was there to witness it all and he swore he’d never get himself involved in something too serious that could break him into pieces. Plus, with racing, he didn’t really have the time to get a girlfriend and keep one so the matter was settled.

For years, he satisfied himself with meaningless flings and one-night stands when he felt like it. The prestige of being an F1 driver helped and he was starting to be noticed as just Lance, not Lance, son-of-Lawrence, which he appreciated.

One night after his home Grand Prix as he was partying in a familiar club in Montreal, Lance’s eyes met hers. The moment she winked at him with a smile, Lance knew he was done for. The girl had this magnetic pull that just made him want to know more.

After a night together with the mysterious girl, Lance broke his own rules and gave her his number. He wanted to see her again. He felt like he needed to get to know her and luckily for him, she was just as curious about him.

They started texting a lot and everyone who knew Lance could tell he was definitely not keeping this lowkey. The more he texted her, the more he found to like. She was funny and kept him on his toes, always having something to say when he teased her. What had started as physical attraction was definitely turning into more on both ends.

With his work, Lance couldn’t really see her often but whenever he was on the same continent, he convinced her to fly over. She tried to pay for her own flights but Lance categorically refused to let her spend a dollar when she was the one who had to arrange her schedule around his.

The night Lance introduced his sister to Scotty, she was also there and Lance happily paraded with his arm tightly wrapped around her waist. Chloe immediately loved the girl and the feeling was more than mutual. From this exact moment, Lance knew that he wanted to be more than whatever they were right now and he asked her out on the balcony in summer air, New York’s skyline in the background.

After this particular moment, the couple became inseparable and they tried even harder to see each other despite the distance separating them most of the time. They travelled together when they could and called for hours when they couldn’t. The distance was hard at night when everything suddenly turned silent and they both longed for someone to hold in the dead of night from two different ends of the globe but they made it work.

It was also hard during the day when everything they saw seemed to remember them of the other, whether it was an ice rink where they had their first real date as a couple or a particular book she had given him with handwritten notes all over the margins. Even in the distance, there was always a trace of the other where they were and it was both painful and comforting, it was being haunted in the most beautiful way possible.

Luckily for them, she finally got her degree and travelling became easier with her job. She could work remotely most of the time so following Lance was part of her routine now and she loved it. No matter how many races she had been to, it somehow never got old. Seeing Lance in his element was captivating. She was fascinated by his determination and his resilience. No matter how hard the world was on him or how hard he was on himself, Lance always bounced back and faced it all with a stoic face and a steel-strong determination.

It was one of the reasons why she wasn’t as scared as she originally thought she would be when Lance got in the car. She was aware of how dangerous the sport could be but there was something about the confidence that oozed from her boyfriend that seemed to calm her. If he kept getting back into the car despite knowing the risks, he was either completely stupid or serene enough to decide that it was all worth it.

Lance had been pretty consistent for the three practice sessions in Singapore so far and Fernando seemed quick so there were reasons to be optimistic about qualifying. Chloe and Scotty hadn’t been able to come this time and Lawrence was busy talking business in an office in the motorhome so she was left alone in Lance’s corner, blowing him a kiss as he got into the car, catching it and acting like he was putting it in his pocket, making her laugh at his antics.

Qualifying was all about pushing the car to the maximum and toying with the limit and it seemed like Lance wanted to do just that. The green car was zooming past slower cars, turning between the tight corners between the walls of Singapore, brushing it at times when Lance came in a little too fast but he always made it out without much more than a scratch.

Her eyes were glued to the screen as Lance was supposed to come round the last corner, set to cross the line in just a few seconds, her fingers crossing, hoping for a time that would put him to the top of the board and save him from another Q1 exit. When she saw the flash of green appear on the screen, her heart started racing even harder until she felt it almost stop suddenly. Right in front of her eyes, her boyfriend’s car went off the track and straight into the wall, barely avoiding collisions with other drivers that were also rounding the corner.

As if the crash itself hadn’t been spectacular enough, another camera caught the scene and showed the car from another angle, showing how one of the wheels had snapped and was now bending at a strange angle. With her headphones on, she heard Lance’s race engineer Ben ask if he was okay only to be met by a deafening silence. Ben asked a second time and with a groan Lance muttered that he was okay before getting out of the car as medics came rushing around him.

Despite knowing that her boyfriend was okay enough to talk and walk, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she watched the broadcast replaying the crash over and over again like some sick joke she would never be able to escape. No one seemed to be paying attention to the crying girl in the middle of the garage until a camera panned over to her and she saw her own face on the broadcast. Giving a slight nod to Ted Kravitz who was offering her a reassuring smile and mouthing sorry to her, she turned around, ready to ask anyone if they had any news.

She wanted nothing more than to find Lance and see for herself if he was really okay but she knew how strict the FIA was and how hungry the media were so she knew going out to the medical centre now wouldn’t do any good. She suddenly felt terribly alone without anyone to talk with or anyone to reassure her. The Singapore heat no longer felt warm, it was suffocating and she didn’t realise she was hyperventilating until Fernando came back into the garage without his helmet and ran over to her, grasping her hands and asking her to breathe with him for a little bit.

-“ Better now ?”

-“ Yes, I don’t know what happened but thank you Fernando.” she offered him a tight smile, squeezing his hand before letting it go

-“ I think you were panicking but that’s completely normal. You must be pretty shaken up, did they let you see him yet ?”

-“ Not yet, I don’t even know if he’s still there and I don’t want to bother Lawrence or Ben. They must be pretty stressed already without me texting them for the hundredth time.”

-“ I think both of them would understand but I’ll ask around and see if I can find someone who can either bring you to him or tell you how he’s doing.”

-“ Thanks nando, really.”

-“ Don’t worry about it. Your boyfriend’s tough, I’m sure he’ll be released soon.” the Spaniard smiled before leaving her to see if he could find something on his own

In his whole career, Lance had had his fair share of crashes. No matter how intense his crashes were, he usually walked away without any real physical injuries, at least not in car accidents.

He had been taught that the most important thing after a crash was getting back in the car, not letting the incident get to you, always getting back up. That’s how he had always proceeded since he started racing, if he fell, he got back up straight away and worked until he got it right.

This crash hadn’t been any different from the others, only maybe a little harsher but that was all. Yet, Lance couldn’t stop his heart from skipping beats, he couldn’t breathe fully and he didn’t know if it was because he was physically hurt or if he was still in shock. Nothing made sense to him and he just followed along the medical team and answered their questions, trying not to ask too many times how much longer he had to stay there. He knew they were only doing their job and he was thankful to be checked quickly after the impact but the white light was irritating, the whole room seemed hostile and all he wanted was to see a familiar face.

No matter where he looked, all he saw was strangers’ faces and Lance had never wished to see someone he knew as bad as he did in that moment. Once all the tests were done, Lance was told to wait for the results in the room so he did. When the door opened a few minutes later to reveal his dad and Ben, he felt like breathing was a little easier, even though his dad’s hug was a bit too tight.

-“ How are you feeling ? Does it hurt anywhere ?” Lawrence asked

-“ I’m good, dad. I already told the doctors everything so don’t stress about it.” Lance smiled as Ben rolled his eyes at how relaxed Lance was being

-“ I’m glad you’re okay, that seemed like a tough one. You had us all scared back in the garage.” Lawrence admitted, resting one of his hand on his son’s shoulder

-“ I’m sure it looked worse than it felt for me but yeah I can imagine. How is she ?” Lance asked as his dad excused himself, having to answer to a phone call

-“ How is who ?” Ben answered

-“ y/n. Is she waiting outside ?”

-“ Oh shit.”

-“ What ?”

-“ She’s not here, Lance.”

-“ What do you mean ? Didn’t she want to come see me ?” the canadian asked, not hiding his disappointment

-“ I mean she probably did but we were so taken by surprise by the crash that I didn’t even think of taking her with us.”

-“ Are you seri– Alright, it’s not your fault, you were stressed but can you please have someone bring her in ? She must be worried sick all on her own in the garage.”

Ben just nodded before joining Lawrence outside to arrange for a car to bring the girl over to the medical centre. Barely a few minutes later, the door burst open and without having to look towards it, Lance knew exactly who it was. There was no way to mistake her for anyone else as she rushed inside, only to stop in the middle of the room, almost afraid to take another step.

-“ You can come closer, you know ? I’m not going to break if you breathe too hard.” Lance laughed softly

-“ Can you not joke about it please ?” she whispered as she came to stand next to him without touching him, still afraid to hurt him without meaning to

-“ I’m sorry. I’m okay, I promise.” Lance affirmed, nudging her shoulder with his “ Can you give me a hug, pretty girl ?”

-“ Just tell me if I squeeze too hard. I don’t want to hurt you.”

-“ Of course, now come here.” he said, opening his arms as she wrapped her own around him and hid her face in the crook of his neck

They stayed like this for a few minutes, just holding each other close until Lance felt a tingling sensation on his shoulder and his neck.

-“ Hey there, are you crying ?” he asked, softly rubbing her back

-“ ‘am not.” she said sniffling rather loudly

-“ Aw baby, I’m really okay. I know it must have been scary for you but it’s over now. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, I’m still in one piece.”

-“ I know. I really don’t know why I’m crying. It was really scary and I’m just glad I’m with you right now.”

-“ Me too, pretty girl. Look at me now, please.”

She took a small step back, looking at him with puffy eyes and a tight smile as Lance cupped her face between his hands and planted a kiss on her lips, placing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

-“ As soon as I get discharged and I’m done with everything, we’re going back to the hotel and we’re going to take a long warm bath and relax together. Does that sound good ?”

-“ Yes. Can we cuddle after that ?”

-“ Of course, we can cuddle all you want and I’m not moving from bed until I really really have to.”

-“ Lance ?”

-“ Yes, pretty girl ?”

-“ I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time she said it to him but somehow the circumstances made it even more emotional and Lance smiled before kissing her again, more intensely this time.

-“ I love you too, y/n. The doctors will be here soon but I don’t want you to be here in case there’s something, which I’m sure there won’t be” Lance quickly corrected himself when he felt her draw a sharp breath before continuing “ but just in case I’d rather you get back to the garage and pick up our things. Like that we can leave as soon as I’m done here and I’ll meet you in my driver’s room.”

-“ No, I want to stay with you. I don’t care how stressful or scary it could be, it’ll be even more if I don’t know what’s happening.”

-“ Pl–”

-“ Don’t you dare try and convince me otherwise. I’m staying whether you want it or not.” she stood her ground, feeling her voice quivering

-“ Alright, I’m not going to stop you. You’re way too cute for me to say no to anyway.” Lance chuckled, wiping a lone tear that had escaped from her eyes before kissing her forehead

-“ Thank you.”

Before Lance could answer anything, the doctors came back in with the results and they listened to the results, a breath of relief leaving them both as they got told that Lance was all good to go. The worst thing that was going to happen to Lance now were a few bruises where the seat belt had done its job and a sore neck. If Lance felt relieved, what she felt was way more intense than him and she took a deep breath, finally feeling like this nightmare was coming to end before wrapping her hand around his as he stood up to leave.

Once they were done, the couple got out of the room, ready to go back to the hotel and put this scary day behind them but Lawrence stopped them before they could make an escape. The older Stroll started by apologising to his son’s girlfriend for not bringing her with them but she quickly brushed it off, understanding how the situation must have been scary for the both of them so she didn’t hold him accountable for it.

After clearing that up, Lawrence asked if he could speak to Lance alone so the girl went to sit a few metres away, finally taking the time to answer the texts from her worried friends and family, assuring them that Lance was in fact okay and that she was too. Lance came back a few minutes later with a relaxed smile on his face, holding out his hand for her to take before bringing her in for a hug.

-“ What was that for ?” she laughed against his chest, surprised from the sudden display of attention in the middle of the far from empty corridor

-“ Nothing, I’m just happy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

-“ What do you mean ?”

-“ My dad and I talked and we agreed that even though nothing’s broken, maybe getting back in the car tomorrow isn’t the best idea and maybe resting would be more reasonable.”

-“ Are you saying what I think you are right now ?”

-“ You have me all to yourself until we leave for Japan, pretty girl.”

-“ Finally something good about today.” she smiled a little brighter, holding Lance tighter

-“ Let’s make it even better then, let’s go have that bath and cuddle in front of a movie.”

-“ That sounds like a wonderful plan.”

-“ Good because I’m not planning on letting go of you until we leave for the airport on Monday.”

-“ You’re going to have to if you want to drive us back to the hotel.” she laughed at his sudden clinginess

-“ Don’t give me ideas, pretty girl.” Lance retorted, pulling her into his arms and kissing her, smiling against her lips

Lawrence, who was still standing in the corridor, was glad to hear the two of them laugh freely after the crash. If it had been scary for him as a dad, he didn’t want to think about how it must have been for the girl. At least they were together now and hopefully by the time Lance would inevitably have to get back in the car, the incident would be long forgotten and she would be able to watch with the exact same smile she was showing Lance now as he made her spin around in his arms, the perfect picture of a happy couple.

#f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll

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coral-melon · 7 months

Note

Heya!! CM! (Get it your user!)

Its 🍓 again :3

Would you be able to write imagine/hc thingys how they would react to seeing your human form for the first time when you go to the human world with them! Im thinking along the flustered fluff/ possibility suggestive thoughts about mc =^=

Any of the brothers/dateables u want! But if your looking for specific just mammon & levi as personal preference :3

(AFAB preferred but No description of gender js cool too :3 )

Aghhh sorry this is worded so weird I’m not the best leaving suggestions i feel too askyy ;^;

Your writing is lovely and i can’t wait to see more!!

- 🍓

Hello again -🍓! Love the ‘CM’ nickname! And by all means, ask whatever you want and however much you want! I’ll always make the time to write any requests~

Also sorry for taking so long; I really wasn’t too sure how to write this, and I’m sorry but I kinda tweaked it and lil bit.. ^^’ I was going to make everyone but I ended up only doing Mammon cuz I thought it would’ve been a very long post. BUT! I can most definitely make separate posts for each of the brothers if that’s something you and others want!

A and as always, if it sucks just lemme know! Constructive criticism is always welcome >;)

Cotton Surprise

Obey me! Mammon x Sheep!MC

Genre: Fluff, crack/shenanigans, slightly suggestive

What’s it about?: Seeing your human form for the first time!

Not that many but They/them pronounce; mainly AFAB

A throwback to Lesson 19 from the original game but tweaked it as well

Edit: ((There were minor changes cuz someone made a comment that pointed out to me how maybe some people didn’t understand what I was telling. Totally my fault ^^’🙏))

None of them ever understood why you turned into a sheep. It happened as soon as you first arrived to Devildom. But the more time they spent with you, they got used to it — some even forgetting you’re a human all together.

One day, most of the Brothers were sitting together in the living room. It was mostly quiet until Asmo brought the question: “Hey, What do you guys think MC looks like if they weren’t a sheep?”

It left them a bit dumbfounded that they hadn’t even thought about it. They got so used to you being a sheep so it kinda just slipped their mind. It also got them to start bickering a ton of what they thought you’d look like.

— “What’s with all the commotion?” A voice interrupts their conversation. Lucifer walks in with you in his hand, talk about perfect timing!

— “We were just talking about what MC looks like if they were in their human form.” Beel explains.

— “Oh right.. none of you have seen them.” Lucifer remarked, chuckling softly under his breath.

— “What does that mean?” Satan says with already irritation in his voice.

— “Well, it’s only right that I know what MC looks like. I was the one who picked them, after all.”

This got many of them heated! Jealous that Lucifer was pretty much the only one that knows. Mammon, Levi and Asmo were whining about how that’s not fair, Satan was gritting his teeth, and Beel along with Belphie just sat quietly watching the scene. They quieted down once you said, “I could just describe what I look like, y’know.”

All of them gathered around like a bunch of kindergartners getting ready to listen to a story book. They payed such close attention to every detail you said and tried to visualize it in their head to the best of their ability. It only made them even more eager to see you for themselves.

And it didn’t happen until the very last moments before you had to go back to the human realm..

… With a true loves kiss! >;D

Cliché, I know. - -’

Mammon

After dipping the House of Lamentation, he ends up in who knows where but more importantly, away from Levi. After he was done huffing for air, both of you start laughing from the absolute fun of stupidity you guys had. You couldn’t help but think about how odd it must’ve look from someone else’s perspective.

You two eventually eased off and took the time to catch your breaths. And then realize the beautiful view you guys have of Devildom. He sits you down gently on the thick stone fences while he rests his body on it. There was a short, soothing silence between the both of you — a soft, cool breeze blowing while you watching the city lights together. Mammon eventually brakes the silence and says,

“Y’know what? It’s always fun whenever you’re around.. I’m always smilin’ and laughin’ when we’re together. There’s never a dull moment..” he says softly; when you look up at him, he’s not looking at you but can tell he has a blush decorating his cheeks.

You smile at him warmly, before looking down at your tiny trotters. You were a sheep till the very end.. you had fun, but you can’t help but get a little sad thinking about it. Like just now, you would’ve been able to run away with him instead of being carried like a pillow.

“W-Who needs the human world, eh? You don’t gotta go back! I want you right here in Devildom, I want you here with me, all the time..!” Mammon looked straight at you, you perked up at him once he said that. He looked at you as if you were the greatest treasure he’s ever had. He wasn’t kidding around, such an unusually serious and determined face…, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

There was a silence again, you looked at him with in awe eyes. He slowly leans in, you leaning slightly forward.. letting whatever was going to happen, happen. Until finally, his lips reached you.

☁︎ —Poof— ☁︎

Light clouds suddenly surrounds you, Mammon was completely taken aback; and then he just freezes. When the clouds disperse, it revealed you.

You felt.. different. Blinked a couple of times before you looked down again. And to you completely surprise, the troopers you looked at but merely a few seconds ago were replaced with hands! You touched your face, your hair, your legs.. they were all back! You give a yell for joy, your curse has been broken! But then you also realize how you didn’t have any clothes on… you looked at mammon — who had his face completely red and eyes glued on you, completely frozen in place. Which made you freeze for a moment.

(Him)→ ╭( ⸝⸝๐_๐)╮ (○□○) ←(you)

— “AAAAAAAHHH!!!”

You tried to cover yourself to the best of your ability; but first of all, you can’t really cover much. Second, he already saw everything! Both of you were very flustered, embarrassed, and still shocked by what just happened. You weren’t a sheep anymore! What’s up with that?!

Thankfully, Mammon at some point finally snaps out of it and covers you with his uniform’s blazer. You grip onto it tightly and covering yourself to the best of you ability. You mutter him a ‘Thank you’ under your breath. But both of you were still quite frantic, looking at each other with wide eyes while huffing to calm you nerves.

“Aha! …Found you!” A voice suddenly says from a short distance. It was Levi!

“Oh shit..”

“Mammon, Give me back my moneeey!!”

“Yikes! Time to go!” He says, lifting you up into his arms and making a run for it. And man did he run! He probably ran faster than when he was being chased by Lucifer. Levi didn’t see it coming’.

You were in a daze, you’ve been carried by him countless times.. but today you felt like a princess that’s been swooped by Prince Charming — a very peculiar one, but still charming.

He — at some point — stops running and hid in whatever corner he thought was good enough so that Levi wouldn’t find you two. With his back to the wall, he collapses to the ground. With you still in his arms but making sure you didn’t fall. You can’t help but laugh and pull him into a tight hug.

Mammon felt like his face was going to explode any second now, he just couldn’t believe that he was holding the actual you — and naked at that! But whatever was going through his head completely perished once he heard your lovely laugh. You were so happy.. embracing him with all your new found excitement. It felt like it was only the two of you in the whole word, so nothing else mattered.

“You broke my curse, Mammon!” You say. When I say this guy’s ego got inflated, I mean it. He felt like nothing could stop him now. That’s right! The great Mammon just did that! No one else!

He takes a closer look at you face; he always kept in mind all of the details you said that day, but you looked way better than what he had imagined. He couldn’t believe his eyes…

You suddenly pull him in and give him a passionate kiss; and oof, was he over the moon! After that one, he starts feeling greedy. Just one kiss isn’t enough..!

—☁︎

Later on, he bought you a few clothes since, of course, you didn’t have any. And decide to go back home.

When he went back to the House of Lamentation, he wanted nothing more than to just sneak in without his brothers knowing. But much to his dismay, Levi was already waiting for him at the gates. And when he realizes that the person he’s holding is you, he goes hysterical and now the rest of his brothers know..

“Oi, that’s enough! Step aside! Can’t ya see MC needs to get to their room??”

He’s always looked out for you.. from beginning to end. You felt like you were falling in love with him all over again. It was hard to believe that life here was coming to an end.. You want to make the most of it before having to go back home. But at the moment, you just wanted time to stay still, just for a moment..

End

I had a lot of fun writing this! So tysm for requesting it -🍓. Tho again, I’m sorry for not really completing what you asked for.. I still hope I was able to put a smile on your face! Take care~

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me requests #obey me fluff #obey me shenanigans #obey me crack #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc

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excalibur-gone-missing · 2 months

Text

Paring: Toru Oikawa x female reader

Requested: no

Genre: smut, female receiving

Warning(s): cunnilingus, figuring, degradation

Summary: Toru eating out his freeuse slut aka you

Word count: 743

Other works

Beta reader: none

disclaimer: this is my first time writing smut, so dont expect it to be stellar (do lemme know if it was good or not)

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

-----------------------smut under the cut--------------------------

Oikawa was your pretty cute roommate. You both had met during your college days and as dorm partners and had bonded over time. Now, three years after finishing, you both are still going strong as roomies.

He has settled into his big-boy job of playing volleyball full-time, and you have the most boring nine-to-five ever. Although the big-time celebrity he is, plus the wealth that is flowing into his bank, says he is a richie rich dude, but the boy still refuses to move out, and who are you to say otherwise?

Now, the refusal to move has some ulterior motives, but it's not like you were not aware of that. The man is obsessed with you, more like your pussy, so much so that he refuses to let you have a moment of peace in the house when you both are alone.

The fact that neither of you are in a relationship helps a lot in contributing to it, not like a simple boyfriend would stop the man from bending you over in the most obnoxious place and ramming his cock into you, but surely it would create a bit of hindrance, and no one likes those.

To put it in the most simplest from, you are his personal free-use slut; that’s what you are. You could deny it, but you know it as well as he does, that you'd bend in the middle of a crowded street if he wanted you to.

Not like he actually wanted that to happen, but you get the point. So, as a general rule in the house, it is forbidden for you to wear panties or a bra, not like you liked to do so anyways. He liked having access to your pussy at all times of the day so that he could always take you anywhere and everywhere.

Just like this time, when he came back from the gym all sweaty and thirsty, for your pussy.

Walking into the house, he looks around for you only to find you on the balcony tending to those basil plants you have started growing a few months ago. Leaving his gym bag on the couch, he strides over to you and without a single word, he pushes you towards the railing of the balcony and, bending down, he settles himself between your legs.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he says from between your legs and without letting you answer, he pulls down your shorts to get the view of your glistening pussy, with its puffy lips.

“Did you play with yourself while I was away?” he asks, looking at you, only for you to let out a flustered whine.

“I just edged myself, Toru, I couldn’t cum,” you say, thoroughly flustered.

“Dumb whore can’t even make herself cum without my cock, that’s what you needed, wasn’t it?” he laughs as you vigorously nod.

Without wasting another moment, he dives into your pussy, licking a long stripe of it and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. With each and every lick it becomes even harder for you to keep your voice lower, eventually your screams pierce through the quite evening, making sure to let all the pedestrians know who is eating you out so well.

Latching his face further into your heat, he adds two fingers inside you and immediately starts curling them. Your essence dripping onto his tongue is like heaven, sweeter than any candy he could ever have.

While letting out lewd breathy moans, you grip his hair hard as he keeps abusing your cunt.

“To-toru, ahh-”

“Yes, scream my name, slut, let the world know who makes you go all dumb over his tongue,” he groans.

“Toru, I’m gonna-”

Before you could complete your sentence, the waves of pleasure hit you harder than anything else. With a loud scream of his name, you come all over his face and like a starved man, he drinks you up till the last drop of your cum is gone and you are shaking with overstimulation.

Emerging from between your thighs, he gives your pussy a quick slap, saying, “I'm gonna go take a shower, I expect you to be naked on your knees beside my bed, slut.”

With that, he is out, leaving you to shakily walk into the house towards his bedroom, because what Toru wants he gets, and you are no one to deny him the pleasure he so politely asked you for.

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

a/n: again if you have read till the end do tell me how you liked it, and thanks for reading.

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ddanthedumbass · 9 months

Text

Desire - mattheo riddle x fem! Nott! Reader

TW! Smut, s3x foul language, mention of drugs, alchol, ciggaretts, etc, 16+ (but if your underage read at your own risk) CRINGE WARNING, frendly arguments -- Author note I am delululu and have a severe case of mattheo brain rot so yea ：) this was a request (anonymous wanted more smut) I always take construction criticism, spelling/grammar/punctuation correction, and requests Enjoy<3 773 words 4,395 characters

Mattheo was tiered. Of everything. He was tierd of school, he was tierd of being treated like the devil because of his name, but most of all, ve was tierd of pretending to be your friend. He didnt want to be your friend. He wanted to be your boyfriend. He kept hinting he wanted to be more than friends, hitting on you, but you took it as wholesome, platonic behavior like hell.

"who is gonna drive? Y/N cant drive because she hasnt take lesson.'' The said, tossing his ciggarett into the bushes.

"theo, i dont want you to drive.'' You said, crossing your arms. Theodore rolled his eyes ''why not? I passed my motherfucking test like bruh''

"hmm, are you just gonna pretend you never crashed your buggatti into a tree because you were reading on wattpad?'' Mattheo asked, smirking.

"yes, and that was not my buggatti. It was draco's.'' Clarified theo, casually flipping mattheo off.

"guys shut up and fucking decide who will drive. I vote mattheo'' you said, raising your hand to show your vote. "I vote Mattheo too.'' Mattheo said, turning his head and smirking at Theodore ''sorry mate, you gotta sit in the back''

Theodore scowled ''son of a bitch.'' Mattheo smirked and said ''motherfucking son of bitch.''

"you both are a son of a bitch so get in the car'' you chided your brother and his bestfriend. Mattheo smiled fake apologeticly and opened the driver's seat door, but theo smirked and said ''your a whore''

-AFTER SIBLING ISSUES-

Mattheo started the engine and picked up his phone and made to pick a playlist but Theodore said: ''im in charge of the radio because I have to sit in the back'' Mattheo grinned ''i dont get it but bro here'' he handed Theo the phone. "just dont play Ed Sheeran''

You frowned, knowing theo and not wanting to listen to Melanie Martinez, but Mattheo smirked and, when Theodore wasnt looking, angeled the mirror so that he could see under your clothes.

You opend your mouth to protest but Mattheo put a finger to your lip and winked ''shhh''. You frowned more still and pulled your knees to your chest.

Mattheo drove into the safeway gas station, the mirror still reflecting your legs. "fucker, my car dont need gas.'' Theodore mutterd. Mattheo rolled his eyes ''can you get the drinks from the safeway right here?''

Theodore nodded and pushed the door ''mattheo riddle onlock the door.'' Mattheo grinned sheepishly and unlocked the door. "firewhiskey'' he added ''i'll text you when you can come back.'' Theo rolled his eyes ''wow, now im getting locked out of my own car?'' He asked

"dont act like i didnt pay for half your car rent shit, idk what its called'' he said, smilling a genuine smile and patting Theodore's shoulder when he saw the hurt look on his face. "this is the only ill lock you out promise''

As soon as Theodore shut the door, mattheo was ontop of you. "w-what are you doing..?'' You stutterd as Mattheo's hand traveled around your body. He gave you a boyish smile. "what does it look like im doing, angel?'' His hands now playing with your bra strap.

Before you could react, Mattheo was undressing you, leaving marks as he went. When he was done, Mattheo tossed your clothes into the driver's seat and thrusting his fingers into your cunt, waisting no time, pausing only to look at what ws between your legs.

"M-mattheo w-why..?'' You gasped quietly but he kissed you and said: ''shh, princess, pay attention.''

Mattheo's hands went to his jean zipper and yours went to his his button-up shirt. Mattheo's clothes were soon in the driver's seat aswell and he was ontop of you again.

He shoved his cock inside you, quickly pushing and pulling, his hand tangled in your hair and his other pinning yours onto the car window. You moaned as Mattheo's thrusts became rougher, feeling you pussy go numb.

You saw the people giving you and Mattheo the 'what the fuck' look, but you didnt care. All you could think about was Mattheo and Mattheo alone. "fuck..! " you moaned, arching your back.

Mattheo's lips pressed against yours again, tasting of acrid ciggarett smoke and sugary honey. You felt Mattheo's toung on your lips and you happily opend your mouth, letting his toung dance with yours, spilling saliva.

When your lips parted, leaving a bitter-sweet taste on your toung, Mattheo immediately picked up your clothes and began putting his clothes on. "we dont want your brother feeling excluded, do we?'' He asked, smirking.

You smiled and put on your clothes.

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #Nott! reader #fem! reader #Car #smut

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iwaasfairy · 1 year

Text

┌─ “ „ FIXED

tw. cest, bit of degradation but mainly praise, spit, oral fixation, oral, choking, its kinda soft pffff so tw feelings, corruption, hajime gets off on the guilt wordcount. 4.2k

a/n. who's surprised about more cest? exactly no one ♡♡♡ but i missed hajime nii, besides i haven't written nearly enough full length big bro iwa fics FIXED /fikst/ 1. predetermined and not subject to or able to be changed. (adj.) 2. mend or repair. (verb)

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

You never really knew that much about boys growing up. That’s just how it went. Hajime started playing volleyball before you were old enough to remember different. Your life was constructed around it. Every practice for him meant no free babysit for your parents, so you were dragged with mom to dance class with other moms. And they brought their equally clueless baby girls, which led to you enrolling in girls related things with girls who related.

You wouldn’t have known about boy’s things, apart from the small circle of cultivated friends Hajime allowed into his space, and yours. It wasn’t on purpose, but the outcome was still the same.

Any and all information you had about boys came straight from Hajime’s mouth, who was older. Compared to clueless you; niichan held the wisdom of a sage. You always clung to his every word, even as he grew bigger. Even as he grew more snappy, sick of dealing with his friends who were stupid boys and did stupid high school boy things. Everything you didn’t know went through niichan. Not ever the other boy spending too much time in your house, because Oikawa was a liar, and niichan would make sure you remembered it.

But you knew certain things too when you saw them, and what small amount you did know— was now rearing it’s ugly head and asking questions.

“Wh—what’s this? What are you watching?” As you shuffle out of the hall with a frown, you hold niichan’s phone away from your body with loose fingertips. Boys might not have cooties anymore in your mind, but everyone talks about how gross boys are. You don’t want to risk it. And Hajime freezes in place like he’s guilty, wide-eyed. It’s brand new. Unusual. Like hitting bullseye on the first throw, tickling your brain from within.

See, Hajime was always bigger than most in your town, athletically built, and prone to using that build full of energy and power to his advantage. That to say, he was always quicker than most to squish you into silence or grab you by the collar instead of using his words when it came to accusations. Your parents weren't around much to scold him for it. It’s what his popular best friend loved to call ‘anger issues’, wait for it to blow up.

And silent, thinly veiled panic isn’t — that.

“Why the hell are you on my phone?” Hajime’s face blanks as he puts down the remote, glances over his shoulder for supervision, and puts on his meanest glare as he scrambles up from the couch. He’d been left on little sister duty all afternoon, and now, you’d gone and made a critical error. Your friends joke about no-goes, but you never really got why ‘messing around on a boy’s phone’ was an issue.

Hajime nii clearly doesn’t agree. His biceps bulge as he crosses his arms over his chest with mouth set in a thin line, and you shuffle in place within arms’ reach of him.

“I’m not on your phone, I just found it like this on your bed.” It’s the truth, you hadn’t meant to find anything. Intent doesn’t matter to your big brother though, because he towers you as he does. It’s the best way you can describe the way he glares you down ice cold, close enough to make your skin break out in goosebumps, waiting for retaliation. If you were any of his guy friends, you’re sure they’d get a solid kick to the shin. The little sister treatment is more mean mugging you until you fidget. “I wasn’t even snooping, I just needed to get a charger,” you tack on, swinging your arms behind your back.

“Give it.”

“No,” you quip back, for no particular reason other than to win the back and forth that always starts like this.

“Give me my phone, before I choose to take it.” His hand sticks out, bigger than yours, and you lean back a little. Usually it��s just empty threats. But sometimes you pick the wrong day to argue back, until you end screaming like a banshee under him like it’s life or death. Niichan’s still young enough where it makes him feel strong not to hold back.

The second ‘no’ sticks in your throat as he leans into your space more, and you can basically taste the natural instinct to roll over before he gets there. But you can’t help yourself. You want answers. You don’t deliver the device as quickly as he wants you to. A single eyebrow raises -an I dare you- deciding whether or not to smack you over the head for your transgression.

And you should know better, but the younger sibling in you aches. You suck your bottom lip. “Why are you watching this?” you grimace as you look at the phone again, unlocking it to reveal the video of a naked girl suckling on what the deadly annoying, high-pitched whine of ‘step brother’ loud through the little phone speaker says is her brother’s… parts. It doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen, from the few seconds you watched. But niichan always gets into the bath before you, and you don’t peek. Ever. But judging by the groaning and moaning from the guy, it must be-

Hajime goes bright red in his face as he yanks the phone out of your hands. “Don’t play it, are you fucking stupid?” Your father is still just as busy in his office as he’s been all day, but the way he panics to turn it off would almost make you think differently.

“It’s porn, isn’t it? You’re watching porn.” You’ve heard your friends talk about porn enough to know what it is. You just don’t know why he’s watching it. “Why?”

After clicking out of the tab, your big brother makes a face that’s equal parts fed up, and embarrassed, but he doesn’t give you any of the answers you’re looking for. “Shittykawa sent me that, ’s nothing. Just- fuck, don’t touch my shit again. Or I’ll knock the sense into you, y’hear?”

“But why watch it?”

“You’re dumber than you look if you think I’ll talk to you about-” The last word isn’t even spoken, but it feels like it’s heard just as loud. Your brother watches porn. There’s a pit in your stomach. Because your brother isn’t a liar, but he also isn’t a gossip. And he doesn’t offer up important information until you ask, which always ends with you feeling left out. Late. The overly girly pout of the woman moaning rings in your mind over and over. You’ve never done that stuff to your brother. Instead of helping you out, he hoards info. It makes the hairs on your neck stand up, and you don’t know why.

When he goes to brush past you, you wrap your arms around his waist and cling to him, face to stomach as he tries to walk away. “I’m not done,” you drag out the word, “niichan, stahp-uh. St-aw-aww! You’re hurting me!” You’re really to blame for the way you struggle to hold him in place, and he isn’t one to just fold without a fight. “Niisan~ tell me why! Come on, don’t be annoying. Ughh— don- you’re annoying!” Hajime nii doesn’t just give in. You know that as well as he does.

“Get off!!” His hand is big and warm as it wraps around your neck and he shoves his thigh between your legs, lifted off the floor. You cling on, squeezing hard as he huffs and you use your whole body to try and keep him in place. “Let go of me, brat, fuckin’-uhg- you’re—” You manage to fall back halfway into the couch with Hajime’s weight on top of you in the struggle and bite it, butt landing hard on the floor as he knees you in the shoulder and protects your face just in time. “Idiot, you wanna break your nose over this shit?”

“Why are you looking at that stuff, tell me!” you demand again, through welling up tears this time. “I want to know, or else- Else I’ll ask Oikawa.” He moves just enough to cradle your face and watch you for a second, then blows out a deep breath.

“No, you don’t.” His eyes zero in on yours, and his eyebrows flatten out a little. “You’ve made your point, just stop making a scene.” After running a hand through his spiky tufts of hair, he clicks his tongue. “If I tell you, will you shut up about it?”

Your head bobs up and down quickly, always ready to indulge your brother. “Of course! Promise.” Your voice is extra sweet when you say it.

In turn, Hajime sits back down to make some room for your shoulder as you sink down against the furniture, and look up at him. “Get up from the floor, c’mon-”

“Hajime nii~,” you bristle, crossing your arms over your chest, “just say it.”

You can basically see him think about rolling his eyes, but he fights the urge to instead let out a noncommittal huff, and pats his thigh. “Suit yourself.” You swallow down a sniffle, and rest your head onto the couch. And your niichan’s eyes flick to you again, hesitating. “What d’you want me to- I- If you wanna know why I watched it, it’s- because it feels good. I like it.” Your face must give away your confusion, because he glances over his shoulder again before patting your head and running his fingers through your hair in nerves. “And it is easier for guys to… come if we watch stuff.”

“Like it?” Your lashes tickle against the fabric as you look up at him, not yet satisfied. He’s not getting away with a measly little explanation like that. “But what was the girl doing?” Niichan’s chest rumbles softly with the deep breath he takes, pulling his fingers down to squeeze the bridge of your nose instead, like it’ll shut you up. But it doesn’t, only makes you whine and push at the hand. When he speaks again, his voice is very soft, almost too much so. It makes you giddy. It warms your blood. You love when Hajime nii tells you secrets, or things you’re not supposed to know.

The low mumble reaches. “Sucking his dick.”

Sucking it. You pop your lips, and watch as he starts bouncing his leg next to your head. But the lady in the video wasn’t just sucking. You’re not sure how to word it, so just pout for a moment. It’s not like you mean to push it too far. Evidently, you do though. “Can I do that to you, niichan?”

It nails the coffin closed, because he suddenly stands up and narrows his eyes, as heat comes up all the way to his ears. “Oh my god, don’t make it sound fucked up. I’m—”

"What, what, what?" you pout, and cling to him.

"Shut. Your. Trap. Dad's gonna hear." He takes your cheeks between his index finger and thumb, and makes you really look into his eyes. “Don’t ask anyone else that. Ever, okay? I’m not- talking about this with you right now.”

The conversation sated you back then, it seems. Because it doesn’t come up again until you’ve totally forgotten about it, much, much later. Late enough for you to be awoken from your sleep with an involuntary yawn. Hajime’s apartment is still pitch black, but you’re not unaware of the shape next to you as it slips into the covers with careful motions. Your chest rises and falls shallowly, before you nose pushes into his chest and he settles. “Sorry.”

“M’n -rom d’airport, miss you,” you slur, and also curl up further into Hajime’s heat, who doesn’t bother to try and understand you. You’re not even sure yourself. Only that you don’t want him to move, and that the gentle soothing motion of his heavy hand on your hip is nice. “Hm?”

“You’re taking up my side,” his voice rattles your skull with how deep and low it feels this close to your brain.

“‘M not leaving, you’re warm. Wanna stay here. Forever.” It’s enough to have him give in, slide an arm under your side and drape you up a little higher onto his pillow to really slide in nice and close next to you. Chest to chest, and your face to his collar. It isn’t the first time you’ve cuddled, or felt his thighs force some room between your legs to slide one of his between.

But it’s weird. You can still feel his eyes on your face, magnetic in the twilight. They trail paths all over, suffocatingly so. When you open your eyes as much as the call of sleep will allow, your lashes almost brush his nose, and it tickles, and your big brother’s breath dusts over your cheeks. “Wanna get more sleep before I have to go back home.” You justify, but Hajime doesn’t nod, doesn’t disagree either. He just looks, too close to your face. Your sleepiness doesn’t matter so much when your heart patters against your ribs. It’s just - like ice sliding down your spine, you can feel how your stomach turns inside you, and how hot the air feels. Why is it weird?

You’re older now. You know better now. There’s a whisper, a soft “niichan,” anything to break the tension. It is breathier than you mean it to come out. You just want to know if he feels nauseous too, sensing the same feeling of hell pressing down on your chest as the room seems to come closer. He seems to come closer too. He’s always so bright, so present in your mind. Whether you’re halfway across the world or kept

in his arms. And then pillowy lips connect with yours, nose brushing along your matching one, and your lips are pushed open by a wet, warm tongue. A hot flash travels down your throat as you try not to skitter away at the feeling. It takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up. Why is it different? Why? Why’s your belly burning with a strange sort of pressure? Tonight’s the last night you’ll be spending in Hajime’s apartment for a while, maybe.

His tongue slides into your mouth and tangles with yours, tasting of watermelon and mint mouthwash, and his heart beats slower against your chest. He’s just so close, and you feel like you’re drifting off into dreamland with how warm you feel melting into him. “M-nii -chan,” your voice comes, and a hand grabs your cheek to pull your face closer to his. You’re instantly reminded… of that high pitched moan of that girl on that video.

“Shh, ‘s okay. I’ve got you,” he noses along your jaw, before pressing a lingering kiss right in the middle of your bobbing throat. You don’t expect him to sit up. You don’t expect him to slide his arm under your knees and move you sideways, and to come back to your face for more warm, sloppy, wrong kisses. “I love you. I love you.” This is… wrong, isn’t it? It’s incest, and wrong. The word that haunted you ever since you learned it’s meaning. He groans your name in the quiet, and you automatically reply with a soft moan. Can’t help it. The kissing turns into deeper, needier, panting and spit on your bottom lip before he slides the calloused tips of his fingers over the exposed sliver of your tummy and up.

Hooking your flimsy cotton onto his fingers and pulling at it until he reaches the swell of your tits, but not revealing anything yet. You shake, and your legs spread apart. There’s a pressure on your bladder, on the lowest part of your belly, where heat collects itself and drips out of you into your panties— and it should be more embarrassing than it is. But your pout is kissed by your devoted, all-knowing big brother, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“Let me- wanna show you somethin’ now.” His breathing against you feels like heaven, sweetening your blood until you can barely think straight over the smacking mouths and dripping of spit and your cunt and the swirling fire in your loins. “You’re so fucking- pretty.” His chest rubs against your tits, and his fingers pinch the skin where your breasts blush with heat, squeezing with a low rumble of his voice. He wants to say something, but doesn’t get the words out, clearly, as he shuts himself up in your lips, then your throat, down to your tits. Your pussy’s glowing, and your mind foggy- something you can’t pinpoint to either sleep or the moment, and is most likely both combined.

Hajime nii’s boxers are barely clinging onto his thighs with the way it’s tented around his cock when he pulls back, taking a long look just like you are. He’s hot, physically burning under your eyes. But also… filled out so much. He was always broad, but now it’s just distracting. Carved from marble and dusted with gold. It’s childish, petulant even, how you take in the sight and moan with your hands pawing at his shirt, but so fucking true. You’re overcome with it, with love for him.

And niichan seems similarly affected as you are, because there’s a furrow between his brows that only relaxes when he stares at your blushy, spit-covered lips, your heaving chest, the sticky patch of your panties as you’re laid spread on his bed.

His hand comes to yours, letting you wrap your fingers around his, but he doesn’t move beyond that. Only breathes deeply, and stares at the way you tangle your fingers between his. “Niichan, please,” you whine, pulling, tugging, demanding him into motion until he places his free hand onto his chubbed cock and squeezes himself through the fabric. The wet patch of his gray boxers clings uncomfortably to his cockhead, and you suck your lip between your teeth. “Show me, niichan. I wa- wan’ you to, please.”

You’re the one sitting up first, grabbing a handful of your own tits to whimper as his fist stays screwed around his cock— and have to lean yourself all the way down to nose at the inside of his thigh before he finally moves again. “Oh- fuck.” His hips jerk as he rubs himself against your cheek once, and when you moan, again. Large hands and long fingers splay out over your head to keep you in place as gently as he can manage as you let your spit-slick tongue rub against him as he fucks into the air and you chase. You only manage a little glance up between your lashes at his heavy petting and desperate few pumps against the softness of your mouth, but it’s plenty.

Plenty to see the blown out pupils and bead of sweat rolling down his neck, his ears and cheeks a dusty pink. Your big brother groans when you brush your thumb over the sticky patch of the fabric and wrap a ring of fingers around him, forcing the covered head to pop into your soft mouth with a loud kissy noise. “I- Fucking hell, get o- oh,” he doesn’t let you stay latched on, tangling his fingers in your hair and holding you away as he shudders, “you wan’it? That makes you feel good, does it?” The pull of your hair feels good though, pussy clenching around nothing again.

“Mhm, being under my big brudder makes me feel good.” You can’t keep yourself from nuzzling into his hand when he releases you to get up onto his knees, and watch as he shoves the boxers down his thick thighs with slower motions than you wish he’d use. It’s a little unfair. Even in the low light, you can see the glossiness of his cockhead, the little trail of hair leading you all the way down to right between muscular legs- and your nails drag down the skin with a needy whine until he rests the heavy tip back onto your lips. Onto your squirming, little tongue.

Hajime’s breathing comes to a halt as you lick up the slit and glance up at him, and move your hand to reach under his cock too. “Mh-niichan? You wanted this, right? for how long?”

His eyes go half lidded as he hums. “Long.”

Another long lick sliding down, your spit coats the bottom of his twitching cock until you’re happily nestled at the base and press kisses down. “Is that why you only watch sister porn?”

He groans your name with a tight grunt, and you can see the way his chest caves. You guess it doesn’t really matter. Worse sins have been committed just tonight than your big brother fondling you in his bed, and pressing you down on his lap. But the way it flushes his neck and makes his eyes narrow is so satisfying, you almost don’t know what to do with yourself when he pushes you away from him to roll you onto your back, long fingers finding your neck. The press scares you for a split second, before the pressure makes way for entirely too much pleasure. “Still a fucking brat.” His olive irises flash as he watches you drop open your mouth again, and pull at his shirt with a moan.

“Take this off~ niichan, please. Please.” His shirt is discarded somewhere next to the bed, before he allows you to place your lips back to the thumping, blood-filled head of his cock and wrap them around it. It feels good, really good— and he tastes like Hajime, slowly starting to rock onto your tongue as his hand tightens in your hair.

“Wan- uhuh, fuck, I want to cum down your throat so bad. Use-m- my little sister’s mouth.” He’s heavy, and thick, and spit gets everywhere as you do your very best to hollow your cheeks around his hard cock each time he pushes a little farther in. But of course you gag when he pushes past your tongue into your tight throat, and grunts out your name. He pulls back to let you take a breath but fucks right back into you, now rocking his hips harder and deeper. You gag, and Hajime hums. “Tch, messy little sister. Good, tho- feels so good-” Your fingers squeeze around the part where you can’t quite reach, other hand on his balls, while spit goes everywhere.

“Fuck, I’m fucking my sister’s mouth, this is- so fucked.” You suck harder, and Hajime’s cock twitches in your mouth. “Uh- love— you, uhuh, that’s a good girl.” Your lips are stretched wide, and your throat burns around the intrusion, but the feeling just makes you so lightheaded. Floating off from the world as he cups your face with two hands and jackhammers into your mouth until you can’t tell up from down. Your muffled, sloppy ‘niichan, niichan’ only makes his shoulders raise higher, abs flexed each time he makes you bottom out around him, each time tears run down your face. Even when you gag and push back against him. “You love your big brother too, right?”

“Mhm,” you’re choking on it and enjoying it, breath flooding your lungs each time he pulls back far enough to let you— before you have to grab his thigh and open your teary eyes to glance up at him. “Niichan, Hajime nii, p-please. Want your cock, i-inside, want to be my big brother’s cockslut, plea~se.”

He hauls you up from him by your shoulders, rolls you onto your back as he stares into your eyes. Pupils blown wide, with the pretty sliver of green, he bites his lip so hard it must hurt. “Why— you keep saying shit like that, thinking I’m not going to react? Stop poking.” His long fingers glide from your shoulder up to your neck again, and squeeze just enough to have you seeing little stars that vanish when you look at them. It feels good. Hajime feels so good. With the light of the moon dusting along his edges, you slowly spread your legs on both sides of his body, and blink.

“Mean it. Mn-gh, nii~chan. Want your cock to fill me up, I wan’it so bad. Want you.” He looks rabid as he dips down to shove a thumb between your lips for you to suck, lingering in that heady feeling. More. You moan it around his finger as he pushes on your tongue, but he’s already distracted with the way you’re peeling your own panties down your legs, and how the stings of slick stretch from the fabric all the way to your gushing cunt. “Pl-uh-ese, nii-dan.” Your lewd sucking of his finger and the way you pull your lower legs around his glutes seems to be too much for him.

“Love ya, Hajime niichan.”

You feel his lips crash to yours before his cock is shoved into you, but it’s the latter that instantly has your arms wrap around his muscular back to cling on. Because he’s thick, heavy, and burning hot inside you. Wetness clicks and squelches as he slides all the way in and swallows up your moan. He pulls out, and slams back in hard enough to make your legs jerk. You feel him in your belly. You feel him in your throat. You feel him in your soul too, as he sucks your tongue and cups your cheek and palms your tits all at once. As he pulls out and hits a spot inside you you didn’t even know about, and fucks you so good it makes your toes curl.

“‘S our secret, okay?” he pants when he pulls back, lifting your legs to your chest. And you’re already nodding your head up and down before he has to ask more, letting out the shakiest whimper.

Your voice is extra sweet when you hum. “Of course. Promise~.”

#iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #iwa smut #iwa x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #iwaizumi hajime #hq x reader #tw.incest #tw.choking #tw.degradation #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.iwaizumi

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bamsywrites · 1 year

Text

Guilt (Tyrion Lannister x Reader)

paring: Tyrion x Reader; Tywin x Reader

summary: Tyrion is consumed with guilt as he sees just how his actions have affected you

word count: idk but sure as fuck not 13.k Idk where I got that number from 🤦

tags: pregnant! reader, mentions of miscarriage/infant loss, pretty fucking huge age gaps mentioned. tywin doing tywin things. angsty with some hurt/comfort. there's a lot of plot building as i want to attempt to make this into a series. pining. future friends to lovers.

AN: this is my first time writing in a loooong fucking time. I am open to constructive criticism and feedback. I have plans on making this into a series so let me know if that would interest you. this scenario has been in my maladaptive daydreams for so long lol. Please let me know how you like it!

Tyrion watched you from his spot overlooking the river where the women were doing the washing for the day. An older woman was showing you the best methods for getting stains out from the fabrics of sheets and clothes, you watched with a furrowed brow and genuine curiosity from your seat on a large boulder. Tyrion had noticed this was a new behavior trend of yours. You'd go to the kitchens, the stables, the rivers, all to try and lend a hand or learn. Your noble birth made it so you never had to wash your clothes or clean your rooms or make your food. He'd observed that since arriving in Mereen, you almost seemed to be trying to repent of the sin of being born a noblewoman by doing the chores and duties of those most would consider beneath someone of your birth. Not that you ever thought that way.

Tyrion's eyes drifted down to your swollen belly which you were stroking softly as you watched the woman and he scoffed with a quick swig from a flask of whatever wine he was able to get his hands on. You were nearing the end of your pregnancy, evident by your size and the waddle to which you walked. Dany had been accommodating to your state by having someone around to assist you if need be and keeping a midwife on standby for the impending birth. The queen had been more forgiving than he could have hoped for when it came to the two of you. You had given a rather convincing speech when you had arrived after fleeing Kings Landing. He could still hear the words ring in his mind.

"Your Majesty, I was but a child when your father was overthrown and family murdered. I was a child still when I was betrothed. No choice in my life has ever been my own. I was sold like cattle to the highest bidder and forced to have his children so he could in turn ship them away and form alliances with lords and kings. Everything I have done has been to protect me and my children. All I ever will do is to protect my children. I want them to live a life better than mine and from what I have seen here you would be able to provide that more than any man in Westores currently fighting for the throne. For that, you will have my loyalty."

It was well-spoken and you stood tall while you said it, but he could see the fear in your eyes. How could he blame you? A pregnant woman far from home in the territory of someone who wanted her dead simply because of who she was forced to marry. Staying in the Red Keep wouldn't have bode well for you either, his sister had never been fond of you and with the death of his father, the castle suddenly became very dangerous for you.

Tyrion understood why Tywin wanted to make an alliance with your house. Your father was lord of a southern house that was known for its impressive feats on the field of battle, no one had ever defeated House ____ on the battlefield and most were met with devastating defeats when they were on horseback. The best tacticians Westores had ever seen either came from your house or were mentored by the lords of your house. Tywin wanted that alliance and he was always looking to further his family line but Jamie had made vows and Tywin would rather die than give Tyrion any claim to Casterly Rock. That left him to marry you, which he did. You were young. Very young. He remembered how scared you looked on your wedding day as his father covered you in a robe of Lannister Red.

You'd done your duty as a wife very well. 6 years since your wedding to his father and you'd had several pregnancies and two living children - daughters much to Tywins dismay. You bore him a son named Tytos but he fell asleep one night never to wake again. Tyrion remembered that day very well, he walked into the hall to see his father holding you as you sobbed, pressing a kiss to your head and looking as vulnerable as Tyrion had ever seen him. Tywin always seemed to respect you and held some possessiveness over the fact that you were his lady wife. You were spoiled by him as was expected, always in the finest dresses and jewelry. Tywin made an example of anyone who dared to disrespect you, even if that person was the boy king himself. He seemed to value your intellect and wit, finding bragging rights in your brains and beauty. A fact that drove Ceresi mad. Though Tyrion supposed, the way Tywin treats your daughters was an even bigger slight to the Queen Regent.

Trysta and Nataria.

Tywin doted on them more than he did you. It was made known behind closed doors that Tywin would keep putting babes in your belly until you gave him an "heir and a spare" but there was a light to his eyes when his youngest daughters were around that made it known he cared for them too. There was an affection there that Tyrion did not remember his father showing Ceresi or Jamie as children. A fact confirmed by the jealousy his sister had for the two young girls, Jamie had never made a comment on it but he enjoyed the company of your daughters very much.

They were very sweet girls, with your eyes but the signature Lannister hair. Trysta was the eldest at five years old, she was smart and sassy, a combination that always brought a smile to Tyrion's face. There was nothing like watching a noble lord be put in their place by a small girl in a pink dress, knowing that they dare not comment back for fear of facing her father's wrath. Nataria was younger, still not quite speaking in full sentences yet, and always wanting to be picked up by anyone who would take her. Tyrion would never forget walking into the tower of the hand to see her sat on Tywins lap with her head nuzzled into his chest as she napped. Tywin informed Tyrion that the babe you were carrying was making you ill and the handmaids were unable to get her to stop crying. He didn't look up from the papers scattered across his desk and his voice was as stern and emotionless as it always was. It was almost alien to see it, to see how much Tywin was capable of some form of care for his children. Tywin often made the comment that his first three children were disappointments and that he was going to make sure his next turned out differently.

You had made the smart choice to send the two girls to stay with your family after Jofferys murder. Kings Landing was not safe for them and both girls adored Tyrion. You had not wanted them to witness his trial or execution or to be brought into the middle of dangerous court politics. You probably would have joined them if Tywin had allowed it. Tyrion was sad he never got to say goodbye to them. He loved them as much as they loved him, always reading books or buying trinkets for them. He missed them dearly but knew you missed them more.

Especially today. It was Nataria's second name day.

Tyrion was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your laugh as you watched the children play in the water and their splashes of water soaking your dress and hair. He noticed that your laugh didn't quite reach your eyes and the guilt panged through him.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

You were distracting yourself, he realized, from the pain of what today meant. The pain of not being with your children. The pain of not knowing when you will see them again. He couldn't imagine the pain in your heart. Almost like you knew what he was thinking, your eyes locked with his and he gave you a curt nod before standing and heading away from the river.

---

Later that night he saw you again, sat in the gardens of a courtyard lit by the stars, and a few torches spread over the area. There was a piece of parchment paper in your lap and your fingers were playing with a necklace around your neck. Tyrion noticed your beauty in the light of the stars. The way the flames from the torches flicked across your features. He always knew you were beautiful but it was dawning on him that you were more than beautiful. He sometimes found the air leaving his lungs if the light hit you right. The sound of your laugh, your voice, when he heard you sing it was like the whole world stood still. It wasn't fair, he thought, that someone as kind and smart and witty as you could also be so beautiful.

The sound of a muffled sob brought him out of his thoughts and he felt that searing guilt tear threw him once more.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

His feet moved him through the courtyard and he sat next to you in silence. You quickly wiped at your eyes and shoved the paper, what Tyrion could now see was an old letter from your father about how your daughters were doing, into your dress. The two sat in silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say. You'd always treated Tyrion with such respect and kindness and he'd returned the favor to you. You never let Tywin taint your view of him.

"You've been avoiding me," your voice cut through the silence.

It was true. He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences since defending you to the Queen when you were brought to her throne room. "And yet you have been watching my every move."

He nodded, eyes fixated on a particular patch of grass in the courtyard. "Always observant aren't you?" His voice was soft.

"You'd think someone of your size would be better at hiding but alas....."

Your comment made him laugh. The first laugh in a long time.

"Spying is not my strong suit, I must admit. Drinking, books, and whores are my real talents." His eyes traveled over to you and he noticed your small smile.

Your smile shouldn't cause him to feel the way he was.

The two of you sat in silence for a long while after that. It wasn't an awkward silence, neither of you seemed to know how to get the thoughts flowing through your head to form into words. There was so much to say, so much to explain. You broke first.

"I miss them," Your voice wavered and your lip trembled. "I miss them so. It feels as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest." The tears started to fall all at once, Tyrion swore he could hear them hit the ground like rain.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Every time the babe inside me moves, I remember how it felt to feel them move too. I think of them from the moment I wake to the moment I sleep and then I dream of them. Are they happy? Are they safe? Where are they? When will I see them?" You rambled through the thickness of your tears, your fingers gripping tightly at the fabric of your dress.

Tyrion hesitantly grabbed your hand in his, afraid you'd hurt yourself and gave it a small squeeze.

"Your sister...Oh, your sister...she hates them. She hates me. She'll have them killed. I can't...I can't.." you choked on sob after sob

He said your name softly and moved to stand in front of you so he could look into your eyes. The tears falling down your cheeks and hitting the skirt of your dress broke his heart.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Ceresi is many things. A hateful bitch is among one of her most prominent attributes. But, she is not stupid enough to wage war on your family. Her hatred for me consumes her. Last I heard they think I kidnapped you." He almost laughed bitterly at the thought. Remembering how he rushed you out of The Red Keep, it wasn't too far from the truth. "And despite even with all of that aside. Do you think Jamie would let her? Let her kill your children? Our sisters?" In truth, he had no idea what would happen but he had to hope. He had to have faith that his choice wouldn't lead to the fatalities of you and your daughters.

Your arms quickly wrapped around him and your face nuzzled into his neck. For a moment he just stood there in shock, this was the closest you'd ever been to him and he found himself enamored with how you smelt and soft you felt. But soon he ran his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. Tyrion could feel your hot tears on his shoulder and the mantra repeated in his head.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

"I'm so fucking sorry," He whispered into your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You pulled away and he found himself missing your warmth. He told himself it was because he wasn't used to such interaction, which wasn't a lie, but there was a stirring deep within him that he had to push down and hide. That would only bring him more shame and heartbreak and insult you further than he already has.

"All my life, my father hated me for killing my mother and for being a dwarf. He loathed my very existence. The only thing that kept me alive was my name. I was a Lannister. And then he lets me be led like a lamb to slaughter for a murder he knew I didn't commit. My only option is death or going to The Wall, there's not much difference there as people seem to think. He takes the woman I love and turns her against me, having her lie to all of Kings Landing. And then I find he's fucking her..." Tears were starting to well in his eyes now as he remembered Shae and how it felt to find her in his father's bed. "I didn't think about the consequences. Not for you or the girls until after it was done."

He remembered how the lamp light flickered across your face as you stood there, hand on your belly and mouth agape as he held the crossbow. He remembered how it felt to have the realization slap him in the face. Tywin had become fond of using you to belittle Cerasi, often saying you were more worthy to be a Lannister than she was. Cerasi was jealous of how Tywin seemed to care for and respect you. You wouldn't last long at The Red Keep. Tyrion remembered the scared look in your eyes as he took your wrist in a harsh grasp and led you through the corridors to where he was to meet Varys.

He was pulled from his memories when he could feel your fingertips lightly brush away his tears. "It's my fault," Tyrion's voice broke as he said those words to you, "and I can never express how sorry I am."

You swallowed thickly and looked at him for a moment before your eyes drifted up to the night sky. You were quiet again and this time the silence was thick and heavy. Tyrion could see your brain working hard to formulate thoughts and feelings into words.

"I was 15 when I was betrothed to Tywin," You said softly, your eyes still on the stars. "My father was so excited. The Lannisters would make a great ally and I was the only daughter he had to offer. For two years I waited, knowing that I was to be married to a man who rode into battle with my grandfather. It was the day after my 17th name day that we were wed. Within a year I had Trysta." Your tongue peaked out to wet your lips. "Tywin was not a moral man. He was not a good man. He was a smart man. An ambitious man. But not a good one. I know he respected me, I think he may have cared for me in his own complicated way. I know he cared for our children. But he was old and mean and arrogant."

Tyrion was silent as you spoke, you two had talked in the past for hours about books and history but you never quite opened up about your relationship with his father. Your eyes fell down to your lap and you picked at a loose string.

"I may be cursed for thinking it but I do not miss him. I miss my home. I miss Casterly Rock. I miss the sea and the beach. I miss Trysta and Nataria. But I do not miss Tywin. I am not naive enough to think that I will ever experience what it's like to be loved...to marry for love. That's not a reality for high-born women but I do hope the next time I'm married off it's to someone who is less of an ass."

Tyrion stood there for a moment and then took your face into his hands, "I promise you by whatever Gods are listening that I will get you back home. Back to your children. Or I will die trying." And he meant it.

You simply nodded. He took his seat next to you, his hand resting atop yours. The two of you sat there in a peaceful silence looking at the stars with his hand on yours and you weren't sure how long for. It could have been 15 minutes or two hours. When Tyrion noticed your head starting to bob and your eyes struggled to stay open, he stood up and silently offered you his arm.

The walk to your room was quiet. He had more he wanted to say to you but he knew this was not the time to say it. Once he got to your door he didn't know what to say, he didn't know if he should say anything. He cleared his throat and rested his arm at his side.

"If you, uhm, if you need me...." His voice trailed off.

"I know," you nodded, "thank you." You placed a soft kiss on his forehead before disappearing into your room.

Tyrion stood there for a moment, frustration rushing over him like waves. It was happening. He could feel the feeling creep into his heart: he was falling in love with the woman he widowed and he wasn't sure how to stop it.

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