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starry-skies-116 · 2 years

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Sacred Grounds (Mini-Fic):

At first, Michael thinks he’s hallucinating, or something along those lines.

It was his third shift here at Circus Baby’s Entertainment and Rental- his plan was simple for this night originally: travel through the Funtime Auditorium without Foxy biting his face off, and remove the power module from Funtime Freddy’s chest cavity, completing whatever menial tasks he had to do in order to complete the shift here.

However, curiosity somehow gets the better of him. Earlier he had found an unfamiliar keycard in one of the private offices, and a strange sort of access badge in the scooping room, both of which he had found no use for… until recently. A few minutes ago, to be as exact as he could. He had pressed the keycard to a strange access panel, then arrived at a metal corridor which then asked for the access badge.

“Motion trigger- Safe Room Corridor.”

Huh…?

Michael’s eyebrows were a question, of which the ensuing silence around him failed to answer.

The familiar voice of the HandUnit spoke to him strangely satisfying words when he displayed the access badge in front of the door: “ACCESS GRANTED. TREAD WITH GREAT CARE FROM THIS POINT ONWARD.”

“Why?” he grumbles under his breath, british accent heavy in his voice with frustration. “Is there yet another robot in there that’s about to bite my damn face off?”

Wrong. He was oh-so very wrong.

The contrast from underground facility to cryptic, abandoned temple was stark, punctuated with just one step. The floors and walls were still made of the same substance, but the surroundings were doused in a healthy dose of practical pitch black of which he couldn’t see beyond, save for the faint outline of some large stone wheel decoration at the end of the room with cryptic symbols, runes and glyphs carved on every section encircling one big one at the center- an elaborate triskelion.

Blue eyes dart back to the same triskelion frescoes carved into the large marble and gold pedestal at the center of the room. Strangely enough, despite the lack of natural light, butterflies fluttered around the altar to and fro.

Michael finds himself haphazardly trying to brush off the dust and grime present on his security guard outfit as he glances to the steps leading up to a glass case positioned at the center of the pedestal, surrounded by a plethora of offerings: memorabilia in the form of framed photos that looked like they were from his early life, flower bouquets of blue hydrangeas and cotton flowers, candles that were somehow lit and have barely melted, bowls of seemingly perpetually ripe persimmons, ceramic vases full of incense that still gave off the faint scent of sandalwood- there were even plushies of Freddy and Chica in the front, with Bonnie and Foxy presumably on the back.

Guardians, his mind unhelpfully supplies. To protect the one contained within while he slumbers.

He almost scoffs at the fact that the whole shrine, ofrenda, whatever, was built for a deactivated, weirdly human-like robot draped in a red cloth with gold stitching across his legs- but… it wasn’t deactivated, his less logical brain protests. Even as it sleeps near-motionless upon a soft mattress covered in white silk as unblemished and as pure as lily petals resting upon the first winter’s snow, it wasn’t just deactivated- such words failed to describe the ethereal, entrancing sight before him that sent shockwaves of goosebumps up his entire body.

He glances at the other features- the smooth, human-like skin of a pale complexion tinged with apricot blush here and there, the whirring of a white LED on the side of its head that sometimes sped up, sometimes flickered and sometimes stood still, or even went out entirely- its thick and shimmering locks of brown hair sprawled out around him, its bangs framing its delicate, demure face… and to think he was observing such details only from a distance.

Michael stares and gawks, forlorn and yet flabbergasted, at a mythical creature: a peaceful, slumbering beast.

And oh, does he find himself treading lightly for no reason at all, just for the fact that he cares immensely all of a sudden about this place: he was walking on eggshells, and one wrong misstep could potentially wake the strange robot humanoid up- this strange alien creature that looks so close to human.

Michael’s suddenly treading upon sacred ground- a holy place, the dim, golden and white rays of light above the altar providing the illusion that the sleeping thing before him was basking in respite far underneath the trapdoor to heaven- a comforting warmth is upon his skin as he walks into the light’s grasp.

This thing locked deep in stasis isn’t his brother- and yet…

A single tear slips from his burning eyes, trickling down his cheek and falling from his chin as he stares upon the figure asleep in the glass case, transfixed. He almost feels like he’s about to break down into a quietly sobbing mess when he tiptoes closer up the stairs and sees the more intricate details- the sleeping humanoid’s lips slightly parted to reveal a thin crease of teeth, hands folded across its chest with its fingers interlocked as if it were in perpetual prayer, brows relaxed and yet conveying a hint of sorrow…

There’s even the gentle breaths coming from it- the occasional fluttering of lashes, the slow, punctuated rise and fall of its chest.

It looks so peaceful. This robotic, scarily human doppelganger of his sweet baby brother, Evan, mired in the same warm, dreamless bliss that he couldn’t have. That Evan tried so hard to earn, but could never, ever have.

Michael’s knees give out, betraying him shamelessly as he collapses into a half-sitting, half-leaning position against the marble steps, head and hands pressed against the glass burning frigid and yet warm upon his skin. How dare he descerate this beautiful, divine resting place- how dare he defile this sacred ground with his impure presence, his less rational mind spits out once again.

“I want to stay here forever…” he croaks out, choking up pathetically on his words again.

He should leave, and leave he eventually shall, because if he stayed here a moment too long he’d be bawling in front of the coffin instead of getting anything done. But the warm embrace of the light above him- the soft breaths next to him, and the sounds of faint heartbeats echoing throughout the room… he can’t help but picture those nights with the distant sound of thunder rumbling outside, the phantom sensation of soft locks of brown hair running through his coarse fingers… baby soft skin being peppered by endless kisses and gentle whispers of lullabies...

It was like Michael was sleeping next to his brother again.

The surroundings fade to a static, dreamless white as he allows a sliver of time to indulge in his childish desires brought on by grief and love persevering forevermore. Of happier, simpler days, of carefree moments that he wished could last for all eternity. His tear-stained cheeks prickle with warmth as his eyes flutter closed.

***

The next night, he is sure to bring a bouquet of cotton flowers and blue hydrangeas as an offering of sorts to pay respects to the quietly slumbering creature that was a lookalike to his brother- the only flowers that Evan particularly enjoyed. Knowing that the humanoid creature sleeping inside the glass case would probably enjoy those as well, for some reason, puts a satisfied smile on Michael's face- a grin wider than it should be.

"I love you... and I'll be ready," he mumbles under his breath, ready and reinvigorated for his fourth shift in this hell- at least now he had a place of respite next to the sleeping robot should things become too much for him.

#Michael Afton #Evan Afton (CC/BV)#crying child #crying child fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf project samsara au #reincarnated vessel gregory #gregevan/gregbot/gregvessel #glammike #fnaf gregory #fnaf #1 note #FNAF SL #FNAF Sister Location

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xxcryztalxx · 2 years

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The Elements

The four Elements are energies, and

manifestations of energy, that make up the

entire universe. They also influence our

personalities and therefore what we do. Magical

working calls to each elemental kingdom and its

ruler to protect each cardinal point and its

properties. Each Element has an intrinsic power

and is known for having certain qualities,

natures, moods and magical purposes. Each

also has positive and negative traits.

Earth, Air, Fire and Water are the four

Elements and you may well find that you work

best using one of them in particular. People

drawn to candle magic, for instance, are using

mainly the Element of Fire, while those who

work with incense are using Air with a fair

smattering of Earth in the herbs and resins.

The fifth Element is that of spirit, which is the

‘binding principle’ behind everything.

Sometimes known as aether, it is, on the whole,

intangible, yet is that which makes everything

happen.

Earth

Traditionally the direction of this Element is

north and the color normally associated with

Earth is green. It is represented on the altar

usually by salt or sand. Crystals, because they

are totally natural substances, can also be used.

When invoking Earth and the powers of the

north, you are looking for recovery and healing

and perhaps trying to find answers to questions.

These powers deal with gaining knowledge,

blessing, creating and shielding. When working

within a magical circle, this is the first corner or

quarter on which you call for protection.

Air

The direction of this Element is east and the

color usually associated with it is yellow.

Incense is often used to represent Air, since the

movement of the air can be seen in the incense

smoke.

When you are looking for inspiration, need

new ideas or perhaps to break free from the

past or undesired situations, you would use

this Element. The quality associated with it is

that of thinking or the use of the intellect. When

working in a magical circle, Air is the second

quarter on which you call for protection.

Fire

Fire is the Element of the south and is usually

represented by a candle or a cauldron with a

fire inside. Its color is red and its associations

are to do with power, determination and

passionate energy.

You would call upon this Element for

protection from evil forces, cleansing and

creativity. The quality associated with Fire is

‘doing’ and it is a male principle. It is the third

quarter or cardinal point on which you call for

protection when working in a magical circle.

Water

Water is the Element of the west and is

represented by a bowl of water or a goblet of

wine or fruit juice. Its color is blue and,

because it represents the giving of life, it is

associated with the Elements of sea, rain, snow

and rivers.

When you need cleansing, revitalizing, the

removal of curses or hexes or change of any

sort, you will call upon Water. It is to do with

emotions, right through from the most basic

passions to the most elevated forms of belief. It

is predominantly feminine. It is the fourth and

final quarter that you invoke in any magical

circle.

#witchcraft #elements #elements magic #witch #water #air #fire #earth

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golden-----hour · 11 months

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5/29/23

I can only string together worthwhile sentences with my recipient clear in mind. Dear a future me whose responsibilities will be different from my responsibilities now. Dear what giving up looks like in a 21 year old. Hello my tongue which burns so much at its tip- the tastebuds irritated and bumpy red. And also I need to believe in "in mind." I write it and destabilize slightly, like suddenly the words cannot surmise the semantic leaps between orator, context, and audience, and how this act of reading and writing is what other animals do not get, to be understood in this literal way. I get to look at a loved one and know exactly where he is going. I can try to pinpoint the hurt with careful paragraphs and fish in the light of his eyes for purpose. (The person who writes this is not me anymore. Interpret this in a way that makes you a little sad and curious.)I say the great blue whales of my unconscious pass through abyssopelagic zones, even though they cannot breathe. My great blue whales breathe using the shrouding dark. The vast ocean of my brain matter chatters with animals which cannot find one another and need to. If I stand at the shore of myself, should that ocean also be mostly something that can kill me? What about the inevitable is so elusive and addictive. I say I am curious because it is attractive. A school of fish is German Vocab which inhabit the hadal zone of my right brain. Yes my corpus collusum is an estuary of serene voices and oracular proclamations. Yes, maybe if I am really serious I am worthy of careful listening. Like damn good listening which no one, including me, does. I worry I trust the word too much. Maybe it is loving. To be slow enough and gentle and small enough to hear the heart beat of a pebble or the minuscule weeping of a plucked dandelion or the cavalry of ant legs marauding their way through a battle field of grass stalks and silt and dirt mountains. Whatever this exercise is, I devote myself to it. I gather substance alone. I use my phone for good. My big theme is not desire. What comes after peace? A question? Who is worth saving? Does it even stir something in you that you cannot recall your old angst? Can Grindr be in an American classic? Can Grindr be my milk in a cereal bowl? Can Grindr be a Nobel prize winner or a Pulitzer Prize winner? Can Grindr be a wounded animal that is rehabitated to some secret enclosure? I check the messages to make sure I am beautiful. My fingers play with my hole. My thoughts plan a coup to break out onto my forehead like worms in an apple. Once my thoughts manage their escape then they'll tell everyone about how much I want to be ducked all of the time. I left the error because my phone won that one. I think of the myriad men I have blocked because I have found them ugly and also those who have done that to me. My body is beautiful like a thunder storm and beautiful without religion and beautiful like a kitchen filled with great food and good recipes. One day I'll make a whole room of people give a damn. One day no one has to smile at me and I will still matter too. One day I walk sonder on a leash like a dog distracted by every creature that moves. I want to maybe one day live in someone's eyes and use my phone less. I want to be in a place and mean that. I want to go across the country. I want to build a bunker under every word and be sure that that is where they're coming from. I want to be envision useful boredom and a small following who believes in my category of profundity. This timbre

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0x5742 · 1 year

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15 questions.

[For @tenderfacemeat. This was previously "15 Questions 15 Mutuals", but I shan't tag anyone. Consider yourself lucky enough I ever finished writing these answers!]

Are you named after anyone? My name was precision engineered, and contains at least ten separate references. I could get out the red string and cork board, but I'd rather not. Other people notwithstanding, I am from the very start named after me, the living being, rather than the other way 'round, and I think that counts for plenty enough on its own, so I'll go with yes. Final answer.

When was the last time you cried? I don't exactly keep track of that on the calendar. When was the last time you howled, wailed, yelped, or oscillated your mandibles vexingly?

Do you have kids? No. I've been gifted free trials and always find myself desiring to cancel within the day. The whole experience seems remarkably unappealing.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? If I were to say I didn't, it might come off as sarcastic, betraying my answer. Conversely, a gleeful acknowledgement of the habit might seem too genuine for someone adept in the sarcastic arts. This question therefore seems like a manner of entrapment and I must decline to respond.

… Wait a second. I've been bamboozled. This is already an answer. Abort! Retry! Fail!

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Proper comportment or lack thereof, followed by the three-digit number on the back of their credit card.

What's your eye colour? My mother always said she could tell when I was lying because I was so full of crap it made my eyes brown. 'Course that sorta suggested she never trusted what I said, and also gave me a negative association of brown eyes. Hurrah for weird trauma about normal things!

Scary movies or happy endings? Give me something happy, life is rough enough. I don't mind being unsettled on the way, though. A little salt brings out the sweetness.

Any special talents? Watch, I can do this: gestures in a particular way

Where were you born? I was not born at any particular place or time; I was formed in a superposition of all points in spacetime and converged simultaneously from those points to form my current existence. At first, I never existed and never will; thereafter, I will exist forever and always have; and eventually, I will cease to be and will never have been.

Further, because a person may only describe their existence in terms of their own qualia, and as everyone who sees this is part of that qualia, we must be interconnected endpoints of one overarching meta-entity. I am you, and you are me, and we are all the same.

Alternate answer: Kaskaskia/Erie. Flyover land. Cornfields. 41-81, give or take a few. None of these are quite correct, but all of these are correct.

What are your hobbies? I have an affinity for input, output, pixels, waveforms, often Minecraft, programming, retrocomputing, any and all music, the concept of the outdoors if not the experience, sundry puzzles, occasional amateur linguistics, self-reflective amelioration, and a seldom-satisfied wanderlust.

Have you any pets? Two cats! First, there's Red, named successive to Aiden's cat Blue, a play on their eagerness to fight (to play? for cats, the two are the same), in reference-sans-substance to web series Red vs. Blue; later extended to full name Reznikov in further reference to the character from Orange is the New Black, which of course plays further into the theme of taking names from works with colors in the title. Red grew up on the streets, and Aiden and I met him in a train station. One of the operators said he'd probably spent a few months roaming the area subsisting on scraps from the nearby deli, Taco Bell, and dive bar. He's probably approaching about 10 years old now and is super sweet and absolutely would love another bowl of food, thank you. Hey. You haven't fed him yet. You were going to do that, right?

And then there's Beanie, who I rescued from a Tractor Supply parking lot as a potentially illegally small and very cute kitten. Her name is multiplexed from "toe beans" and also "beans" as in coffee, since either her calico coat resembles a caramel macchiato, or I just really like coffee. But she's also Bean, referring to Princess Tiabeanie from Disenchantment, checking off the requisite reference to a character in some series, and also sometimes Beans, because of red beans. (Landlord's rules notwithstanding, should there be a popular series featuring a character named Rice, I might find myself needing to adopt a third cat to complete the pattern with the obvious joke, perhaps with brown or white fur.)

What sports do you play/have played? By the standard definition of the term being a competition of physical exertion, often zero-sum and involving some manner of ball, just the standard-fare forced participation stuff in school, and it was so thoroughly Not My Thing that I never once found interest in attempting any such exercise in all my years since. Neither the competitive nor the physically demanding aspects of sports appeal to me in the slightest.

How tall are you? I am a tall glass of water, or so I've been told. I am a card-carrying Top Shelf Reacher.

Favorite subject in school? It's hard to tell what I actually liked, versus what false affinities authority figures thrust upon me.

Dream job? These are two entirely incompatible concepts. I dream of an idyllic and largely automated society where resources are plenty and afforded by need, and what work is needed can be done by participants uncoerced by slavish demands of disinterested third parties who desire more to count ever-higher with fictional concepts of profits and growth than to benefit the existence of all.

#tenderfacemeat #long post

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captainhotch · 3 years

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That’s Not a Picnic Blanket | Yelena Belova

no black widow spoilers, entirely non-canon, just don’t think too hard about it ;)

summary; yelena is impossible to say no to

masterlist

You always struggled with fitting in— with finding your place. You were always an outlier, even as an Avenger. You loved your team, truly you did— but you didn’t have some grand cause or feel the need to make amends for your past.

You liked the security of it, the having a place and a job and knowing that you were needed. You had a… unique set of skills from a jaded past, a longer story than it was worth telling.

You sought out comfort and a place to call home, and maybe a cool car— nothing more. And nobody understood that.

Nobody until Yelena Belova. Yelena was Natasha’s sister, and Natasha was the closest thing you had to a friend. Yelena was funny and wild and craved freedom above all else, something you could relate to. She didn’t expect you to sacrifice your life for hers, she didn’t expect anything from you really.

It was refreshing in a way that you weren’t used to. Everybody wanted something, but all she wanted was company. And when the company is as pretty as she is, well you’d be a fool to turn down such an offer.

You never really expected anything to come from your sort of friendship, just someone to talk to. You had similar tastes, and wanted similar things. She was the perfect mix of light and dark, a weird mesh of cynicism and wonder that you hadn’t known was possible until you met her.

“Good morning.” Yelena greeted in her thick Russian accent, looking up from her bowl of fruit loops with a smile. Her mouth was full, cheeks ballooned in a way so cute it was criminal.

You, Yelena, and Natasha had found yourselves sharing an apartment in a weird turn of event. You felt more comfortable in the tight space that in the Avenger compound. There was less pressure to pretend to he something that you just weren’t. Less pressure to be a hero.

“Morning.” You nodded with a small smile of your own, grabbing an apple from Natasha’s prized fruit bowl. She had insisted on the importance of substance— like your chemically altered bodies needed it.

“Today we are going to the park. I want to have a picnic.” Yelena instructed after washing down her cereal with an unnaturally red colored drink. That couldn’t have been healthy.

“Excuse me?” You questioned with a raised brow. “Who is we?”

“We is you and me.” She nodded, there was no question to her tone. It wasn’t really a demand either, just a statement. But she didn’t leave any room for argument. “I watched a movie last night with some woman and a man, I do not remember the name. But they went on a picnic and it looked very nice, so we go.”

“Do I get any say in how my day is spent?”

Yelena looked up at you with wide eyes, in an expression that could only be described as extreme offense. She was very dramatic, you had learned quickly. “Do you not want to go on a picnic with me?”

She stood up from her seat, moving to stand toe to toe with you on the other side of the kitchen island. She crossed her arms over her chest, willing you to argue.

“You can pick what we do after.” She added when you didn’t respond, nodding her head and moving to pass you. “Be ready in an hour.” Her accent made it impossible not to follow her instructions exactly.

About an hour and a half and one motorcycle ride later, and you were sat on-top of what was definitely not a picnic blanket, under a large willow tree in a park you had never been to.

“This is nice, no?” Yelena questioned, turning her head so she could meet your gaze. You were both laid back against the blanket that you were almost certain she stole off of Natasha’s bed.

It was nice, not that you had ever thought it wouldn’t be. It was seldom not nice when you were with her.

“Very nice.” You agreed, looking at her with a hand held above your eyes so you could see her through the bright sunlight.

She rolled over on her stomach, moving closer so that your arm was touching hers, which was clad in a blue denim jacket.

“Do you know what would make it even better?” Yelena questioned, lowering her voice— it thickened her accent which made your stomach do a weird leap that you couldn’t explain.

“Enlighten me.”

“I would like to kiss you right now.” She replied in a weirdly deadpanned voice, her face blocking the sun as she leaned over you. Her face was impassive, which you had also gotten used to.

Your brows raised, that feeling in your stomach returning. She was very pretty, and looking into her green eyes you knew there was no denying her wishes. Not that you’d want to.

“So this I get a say in?” You questioned with a smirk, eyes meeting hers.

Yelena rolled her eyes, “Yes obviously. I am not a creep.”

You didn’t respond, only leaning up to close the short distance between you, gently pressing your lips to hers.

You pulled away after a few seconds, eyes still closed as you laid back against the soft blanket.

“I plan on doing more of that later.”

“You know this is definitely not a picnic blanket, right?”

#yelena belova one shot #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #black widow one shot #black widow imagine #marvel imagine #marvel one shot

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vneuns · 3 years

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netflix and chaos

𐃆𓂃﹒˚˖ pairing : karl jacobs x gn!reader

𐃆𓂃﹒˚˖ warnings : cursing

𐃆𓂃﹒˚˖ word count : 0.5k

𐃆𓂃﹒˚˖ a/n: First day of Feral week 😩 gotta start off with our babes karl and come nice domestic fluff before stuff starts hitting close to home. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

and ofc as always follows , reblogs , likes and commentary are enjoyed and deeply encouraged <3

feral week

Movie or show?” Karl questioned from the living room the sound from the tv being heard loudly as he flicked back and forth between the various options on netflix. “Uhh I dunno whatever you wanna watch.” You replied grabbing the clear plastic off the popcorn and setting it in the microwave, pressing a button and going to the fridge to grab two monsters for you and Karl.

“That’s not helpful at all, you know how indecisive I am.” You rolled your eyes picking up the large bowl with different sour and non sour gummy treats mixed together as well as the cold monsters from off the counter and going to accompany your boyfriend.

The brunette seated on the couch smiled when you sat down next to him with his favorite snacks and drink. “I was going to put on something scary but I decided against it since it’s like almost one am.”

He chuckled, taking the large bowl from you and placing the monster you had handed him off to his side allowing you to sit down and take the remote from his lap.

“Victorious?” The show had been on netflix for about a month but you and Karl never got around to watching it for the sole fact that you were always busy. Kar’ nodded plucking a red and blue trolli gummy worm from the large light blue bowl.

The theme song to the nickelodeon show began to play as you made yourself comfortable resting your head on the boys shoulder.

Your favorite days were ones where you could relax and wouldn’t have to worry about an upcoming paper or having to move date nights to fit each other's schedule. So whenever you both had time to enjoy the other's company you did.

Of course dating a popular minecraft streamer came with all the downsides of not seeing him for hours on end and not being able to just walk in because no one knew about your relationship. A few moments went by before a burning scent filled your nose.

“Oh shit the popcorn!” You jumped up nearly knocking over the bowl of sweets which was lucky being held as you dashed to the microwave smoke coming from the top of it. “Fuck fuck fuck..” You grabbed the fire extinguisher that was under the kitchen sink as you opened the microwave with the sleeve of your shirt.

“Damn it.” The once smoking microwave was now covered in a white fluffy like substance. A giggle behind you bringing you back from your memories of what button you may have pressed to have ended up here.

“This is so going on twitter.” Karl gave you a big doopy smile before heading to the laundry room to grab some towels to clean up the mess and a febreeze to get rid of the burnt smell. Just as he turned the corner your phone signed from your back pocket.

You clicked on the twitter notification from your boyfriends twitter a picture of you spraying the fire extinguisher as the microwave bled a grey smoke.

‘ Was suppose to be a netflix and chill night but it’s turned into more of something along the lines of netflix and chaos ‘

taglist : @spacenova @heyskeppy @inniterhq @basilly @yamturds @dysfunctionalcrab @sleepysoupi @siriushxney @slutshies @tinyegg

#mcyt x reader #mcyt x yn #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x yn #karl jacobs ff #karl jacobs x gn!reader #karl jacobs x m!reader #dream smp x reader #karl jacobs x fem!reader #dream smp ff #movie night #fluff #burnt popcorn #karl jacobs fluff #karl x yn #karl x gn!reader #karl x reader #cc!karl ff #cc!karl jacobs

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tinkerbellwoo · 3 years

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Ice Play - K. Hongjoong

Synopsis - Your boyfriend Hongjoong likes to bring new ideas into your sex life, he decides he’d like to show you the wonders ice can do in the bedroom.

Genre - Smut

AU - Non Idol

Pairing - Soft Dom!Joong x Female!Reader

Warnings - Temperature play, praise, oral (F receiving), fingering, bad language, praise, nicknames, nipple play, marking, reader is blindfolded throughout, restraints, light biting, bad language, badass joong oop 👁👅👁

Word Count - 700+

Just a quick note, as I wrote this, I imagined Joong with his blue, wavy ponytail and neck tats and a sleeve tattoo because he DARED to look that good. Enjoy.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You didn't have much experience sexually, until you met your boyfriend, Hongjoong. He’s always coming up with ways to spice things up in the bedroom, he likes to take the lead and you’re more than happy to let him do his thing, it works out well for you both.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Hongjoong purrs as he waits for your consent. You nod eagerly and he gently wraps the satin ties around each of your wrists, tying your arms to the bed frame above your head. “I’m going to blindfold you now, okay” He informs you with a gentle voice, you can be nervous trying new things but he always makes sure you feel safe and taken care of.

The satin blindfold encases your vision completely, causing goosebumps to cover every inch of your naked body. Your boyfriend delicately trails his hands over your skin, lightly toying with your hardened nipples to tease you. You let out a moan and press your thighs together at his actions “Be patient, pretty girl” He lightly chuckles.

Joong begins to leave kisses on your thighs, making his way up your body at an achingly slow pace. He leaves red and purple marks on your skin, focusing on leaving his stamps of affection on your breasts, collar bones and your throat that is perfectly presented to him due to your head being thrown back against the pillows.

He leaves a passionate kiss on your lips, nipping at your jaw bone before he pulls away to place an ice cube into his mouth from the bowl he had prepared on the bedside table. He holds the ice between his lips and immediately guides it back down your body, following the trail of his marks to soothe the slight heat radiating from your skin.

Your back arches at the freezing touch of the substance, arms tugging against the restraints as your boyfriend grins to himself and runs his hands down your sides. He swirls the ice against your nipples, one at a time, sending shivers down your spine and a strong ache for touch between your legs.

“J-joong, ah- please” You whine. He releases the ice in-between your breasts, watching it glide down your fiery skin as it stops at your belly button. Pulling your legs apart, he positions himself face-deep in your thighs, wasting absolutely no time and placing his tongue flat against your folds and licking a stripe up to your clit, flicking his tongue against your bud.

The moan you release is nothing short of pornographic, you never imagined the blindfold would heighten your senses so much. Hongjoong tightens his grip on your thighs as he buries his face deeper into you dripping cunt, sucking your clit just the way he knows you like it.

You tug desperately against the restraints, unable to control the moans leaving your mouth as your legs begin to shake. “You’re so fucking sexy, you’re an angel” Joong coos. He drags his fingers against your slick folds, causing your toes to curl. “I need you, your tongue, your fingers fuck- just anything, please” You beg.

Suddenly, he enters a digit into your entrance, pumping slowly before adding a second, curling his fingers to hit your sweet spot as he watches your body twitch above him. Your chest heaving and mouth agape as your boyfriend works his love into your cunt through his fingers.

“Ready, precious?” He asks. “Ready for wh-” You can't even finish your sentence due to the sudden feeling of an ice cube being slowly pushed into your dripping pussy. “Fuck fuck fuck! s-so cold Joong!” You yelp. “It’s okay, it'll melt quickly” He reassures as he kisses you whilst rubbing circles on your clit.

Your thighs squeeze around his hand as you moan into his mouth. Hongjoong is loving every second of the act “You’re doing so well, are you gonna cum for me?” He questions. “Mhm” Is all you can respond with until your back arches off the bed and your whole body tenses as your release gushes out of your cunt, covering your thighs and your boyfriends hand.

“Fuck, angel. That was so hot” He chuckles as you lay limp against the mattress, your legs still shaking from the violent orgasm you just had.

“You ready for my cock now?” He whispers, nipping at your jaw.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A/N - Hi! Welcome back to filth by Kat :3 I had this idea all day and I just had to write it when I got home from work so here I am, midnight, finishing this shit because Hongjoong just has to be a sexy king. Am I mad? Absolutely the fuck not. Anyways, thanks for reading 💙

Tag List - @simphwa @yunhoiseyecandy @multidreams-and-desires @jonghoisababie

#kpop #ateez #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #Ateez smut #ateez smut imagines #hongjoong smut #Ateez au #Ateez smut au #hongjoong au #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop au #temperature play #ice ice baby

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wevegottogetaway · 3 years

Text

Thanks fo’ saving my ass tonight

I got so much going on with uni, but I couldn’t resist. If you too are queen/king of procrastinating uni work, you have my deepest support! Hope you enjoyed x

TW: none (except fool language)

Part 2 - Part 3*

Office parties have never been y/n’s cup of tea, the idea of enjoying yourself in the very place people usually count down the hours before they can leave, is rather ludicrous in her humble opinion. Alas as the boss’ personal assistant, she not only had to plan and organize the whole shebang but her presence was also required, supervision purposes and all that. The only solace sweetening the deal for her was that she’d be in charge of the catering too, and y/n learnt very early on that good food and greater booze could make any boring work function at least tolerable.

Now that the festivities are in full swing, conversation flowing almost as heartily as the champagne in the guests’ eager mouths, y/n thinks she did quite well. The vast open space of the office is decorated with taste, the music set at the perfect level as to not overpower the boring chitchat bouncing off its walls, and to her greatest delight, the catering company she hired has truly outdone themselves. All in all, everybody seems to be having a grand time, and y/n decides that’s reason enough to officially relieve herself of her supervisor’s duties.

As she scans over the assortment of canapés, mini-quiches, crudités and other mouth-watering ambrosias, y/n fails to notice the tall figure casually approaching her. She’s in the midst of pondering whether she should try the humous or a cream cheese and salmon toast first, mouth salivating and stomach growling in appetite, when a raspy voice interrupts her inner battle, "I see m’not the only one who’s here just fo’ the food".

Her eyes pop off the delicious hors d’oeuvres to the sight gracing them next and she doesn’t know which is the most appetizing. Because standing a few feet from her is Harry, vibrant smile and pretty dimples on show, as he leans over the verrines platter to pick the best-looking one. He’s wearing an olympic blue floral suit on top of a scandalously unbuttoned transparent shirt, a bold number that would grant anyone else looks of surprise and confusion but looked absolutely divine on his broad frame. Besides, after two years working at the office, everyone had gotten used to his unconventional fashion choices by now.

Y/n quirks an eyebrow in curiosity as she dips a cucumber stick in a bowl of humous, before quipping, "not a big fan of these things?"

Harry lets out a small chuckle in a ‘no kidding’ way, and attaches his emerald eyes to hers, "they’re kind of a drag, if m’bein’ honest."

She smiles at his admission, realizing they both share an aversion for mundanities, "I know right. Like, why party here where everyone has to be on their best behavior when we could be down at the bar without the boss gallivanting around?" she cries out in exasperation and not for the first time, Harry thinks she’s quite possibly the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His smile widens the tiniest bit at her passionate rant, "my thoughts exactly. Do we even know what we’re supposed to celebrate?" The question makes her laugh, she wouldn’t have known either if not for her involvement in the affair, "well as the person behind this all drag," she give him a pointed look at his jeering choice of word, "it would be weird if I didn’t."

Harry’s face falls at the possibility of having offended her, but his uneasiness quickly dissipates when she starts laughing at him. "M’sorry, that came out wrong," he tells her before letting out a giggle of his own and y/n revels in the moment. The idea of interacting with him beyond the usual ‘here’s the presentation for today’s conference’ or ‘do you have the quarterly report ready’ is rather intoxicating for her already feeble nerves. "Don’t worry, I take no offense, I’m just as bored as you are," she reassures him with a smile, "the party is for a new potential investor, something about wooing them with some ‘corporate fun’. S’a load of bullshit if you ask me".

Harry nods at the explanation unimpressed, his boss’ intentions being the least of his worries. Aside from being the classic douche every manager typically insists on being, the guy has always made his distaste about him pretty clear, so Harry would rather focus on more interesting things. Like how beautiful y/n looks right now, her hair tied up in a loose bun at the top of her head, leaving a few strands to fall around her face. "You look amazing, by the way," he brings himself to say, though he thinks his compliment doesn’t even do her justice.

Y/n looks down at her own outfit then: a knee-length red dress composed of a skater skirt and a backless top that only holds with a couple pressure buttons clasped behind her neck. Her cheeks warm up to match the color of her apparel, betraying the timidity she’s always fallen victim of whenever he happened to be in her vicinity. Y/n’s never been one to shy away from her feelings or trip over her own words when facing her crushes, but there is something about Harry that teleports her right back to her sheepish 13 year-old teenage self. Also, she’s not too keen on office romances and the drama that usually ensues so she’s always made sure to stifle her blossoming attraction and keep their relation work-appropriate. Surely that must account for most of her awkwardness, doesn’t it?

Her eyes trail back to his face and her response comes in a shy euphemism, "thank you, you clean up quite nicely yourself." It’s enough to quirk Harry’s lips in a bashful smile, their complexion evidently on edge as they tread uncharted territories. Professionalism has always regimented their interactions with kind but polite rigidness, neither of them quite inclined to cross that invisible line, but tonight seems to challenge that.

Tonight, Harry is resolute in his infatuation, no longer inhibited from social construct but driven by a quest for knowledge; anything that will help him decipher her carefully shielded crux. Tonight, he endeavors to scrape the edges of her rough diamond to expose the gem encapsulated inside, peel back the stoic layers of her exterior to find her unapologetic and intrinsic nature. Tonight, he is thirsty for secrets and confidential disclosures, and he won’t leave until he’s drained it all out of her. Unless she tells him to fuck off, obviously.

Harry keeps the conversation going as he browns the buffet for a new delicacy to snack on, "so, what would you be doing if you didn’t have to be here?" He wants to know everything, the present and the past, the good and the bad, the superficial and the substance, the messy and the orderly, but he figures he should start by what she likes to do in her own time. The things that loosen her up after a tense week at work, the things that will make her eyes shine with passion as she relates them back to his curious mind.

The question reaches her ears as she takes a sip of her drink, "mmm," she smiles around her glass before placing it back on the table, "-that’s easy. Playing pool with the gang at Gibson’s." Her answer spills without hesitation, a heap of follow-up questions already brewing up in Harry’s brain, but the foreign name is what beckons his attention first, "Gibson’s?" he echoes with a faint rumple pulling the skin between his eyes. Is that the name of a friend? A boyfriend? Out of all the questions he’s contemplated, y/n’s relationship status never crossed his mind. He’s always assumed her to be a single woman, the evidence of a significant other never present in her language and demeanor.

A wave of relief washes over him at her elaboration, "it’s a bar couple blocks from my place. It’s been my friends and I’s HQ ever since we all met." The sentiment has her eyes sparkle at the remembrance of all the happy memories the place hosted, and Harry stores the information in his mental list of all y/n’s soft spots.

"Sounds rad, so you play pool?" he inquires with enthusiasm. He’s been knows to play a game or two in his youth, though it’s been a hot minute since he’s felt the weight of the cue in his hands as he sinks ball after ball in their respective pockets. He remembers the elation of it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at each successful strike, and his heart flutters at the thought of ever sharing a game with her; she seems like the competitive type in the most entertaining way possible. Before his thoughts can spiral into much filthier realms, like bending her over the table mid-game when his own skills prevail and she turns into a sore-loser, y/n’s voice rings him back to reality.

"Uh uh, correction," her expression suddenly turns in false seriousness before she proves him right about her competing tendencies, "I win at pool." Her eyes are so full of confidence, a spice of mischief sparkling in their corner, she would have no difficulty persuading anyone of anything that passes the threshold of her mouth. Harry certainly doesn’t doubt her mastery of the bar game, but it doesn’t stop him from challenging her in a slightly elevated pitch, "oh is that so?"

Y/n only grins at the banter, not at all fazed by his taunting remark, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." She reaches for another snack, not taking her come-hither look off his handsome face, and Harry revels in her flirtatious advances, a smug smile taking possession of his lips as he surfs of the same wave of seduction. "Is that a challenge?" he philanders back, fueling the sensual back-and-forth they seem to have embarked upon.

"Not much of a challenge if I know I’ll win," y/n replies with cheek, her self-assurance once again burgeoning like sexy wildflowers sprouting from the ground underneath Harry’s feet, wrapping around his ankle and growing along his body to twine around his spellbound heart. He absolutely loves her unfaltering aplomb, finds it undoubtably sexy but he can’t let her know that just yet.

"Cocky."

"Confident."

They both chuckle at their repartee, enjoying this ping-pong of quick-witted banter they’ve never found in anybody else before. It’s like their intellects were meant to collide in galvanizing forces, the encounter of two fiery psychs too brilliant to one up the other.

Harry is mesmerized by their connection, if he knew sparks would fire this bright, he would have made a move ages ago. "Fuck, you’re something else," he shakes his head in incredulity before confessing, "definitely not what I expected."

Y/n’s chest tingles at his comment, a rivulet of liquid glee leaking through her arteries to pump her heart and her ego full of bliss, "Oh so you expected something, did you?" She punctuates her teasing with a thousand-watts power smirk, and Harry finds it strikingly alluring.

Not about to let her have the upper hand however, a burst of smugness crosses his features as he boomerangs her earlier allurement back to her, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." It earns him a deep jazzy laugh rooted in her tummy and a tinge of pride swirling in his own. He wants to pry laugh after laugh from her belly until her last giggle, only relenting once the muscles in her chest are aching from unbridled joy.

Y/n sighs in content before taking a bite out of a mini-tartlet as she considers how to proceed in this much too flirty conversation. "So what would you be doing tonight, if not for this stupid party?" she returns his first question before realizing, "-wait a sec, what are you doing here if you hate these things so much? My presence was mandatory but yours isn’t."

"I’ll have you know I was coerced into coming too," he quips back in a fake defensive tone, hand pressing to his chest, "Mike from accounting begged me to tag along, he just broke up with his girlfriend so I didn’t have the heart to tell him no." The selfishness of the gesture softens her heart in a goo of adoration, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Softie."

"Chivalrous."

His comeback has her giggle, a rejoinder already tiptoeing at the edge of her lips, "see, who’s cocky now?" Her eyes are full of jest and lightness, somehow taking the weight of the party off his shoulders. Turns out, food and booze are not the only remedies for boring work functions, y/n’s company is just as effective if not more, and that’s with the guarantee of a hangover-less comes next morning. Harry is truly happy he decided to make an appearance tonight, a sentiment he definitely didn’t foresee for the night. The realization has him faintly shaking his head in amazement, his lips letting out another whispered "something else" softly enough that it doesn’t quite reach her already inflated ears.

"So did you have any plans tonight?" She reiterates the question not wanting to ever stop talking with him.

There are probably a hundred exciting plans he could have conjured up to come off half as intriguing as she seems to be, but instead he decides to go the honest route, "nah, I would have probably crash on my couch, this week’s been pretty hectic." His truth is confirmed by the faded blackness tinting the skin below his eyes, a proof of hard work and long hours under the heedlessness of a greedy superior. Y/n knows it all too well, having had firsthand experience with her boss’ jackassery. That’s why she directly inquires, "boss giving you trouble?"

Part of Harry is eager to steer the conversation back to more pleasant waters but he guesses talking a little bit about work was inevitable at some point, especially since they both share palpable distaste for their superior. "The maniac keeps giving me last minute reports like I’m expected to work all night along on his bullshit projects," he explains dejectedly before running his hand through his luscious curls in sign of frustration. "Barely finished in time fo’ the party tonight, I had to slip in his office to put the file on his desk, that fucker had already left."

Y/n listens attentively, her chest tightening in empathy at the recollection of his misfortune. She’s very familiar with the embittering feeling that comes with working your ass for someone that barely registers your efforts and dishes the office hours before you can even dream of clocking off. She’s faced the same scenario time and time again, including tonight, when she’d come up to lock the boss’ office hours after he left to get pampered for the party. She barely got time to make the double commute to and from her place, much less spend hours getting dolled up. She does remember the odd file on her boss’ desk though, "oh I was wondering what that blue folder was about, he never usually leave unattended paperwork on his desk."

Harry starts nodding in confirmation before stopping dead, eyes widened in distress, "wait, did you just say blue?" he asks in urgency.

Y/n frowns at his sudden agitation, her mind reeling to try and visualize the state of the surroundings she left several hours ago. She’s pretty positive she saw a blue binder laying there, not that she knows the ramifications of that simple fact, "yes I think so, why?"

The dire nature of the situation becomes painfully obvious as Harry’s face turns into a mess of dread and panic, "oh shit, oh fuck, no no no," the words keep tumbling from his mouth in a ramble of nerves. "So stupid, m’so fucked" he keeps muttering self-admonition in quiet anger, hands griping at the root of his hair.

Concern is starting to fester in y/n’s guts as she takes in his disheveled state, "Harry, Jesus, take a breath, tell me what’s going on," she steps closer to him, one hand softly holding at his biceps as she tries to connect their gazes.

Once his eyes plug into hers, pupils blown out in turmoil, he finally calms down enough to word out his mishap, "s’not the right file on his desk, I only use red binders for the reports." Spinning around out of her hold to shout his stress back to the wall in a loud "fuck!", Harry’s mind is caught up in a swirl of possible excuses to give to his boss, all sounding more ridiculous than the other. He can’t think of way to fix his mistake and escape the inevitable berating coming his way comes morning.

Fortunately for him, y/n is not about to let this happen, "it’s okay, we’ll fix this," she encourages. "What’s on his desk right now?"

Harry looks back at her then, not totally convinced that this all mayhem is salvageable. His boss is never going to tolerate this minor negligence, especially once he finds out the irrelevant material mistakenly slipped amongst his work. "My 14 year-old niece’s english project" the answer comes out as a question, a hint of self-deprecating humor lacing through his words. "Bloody hell, he’s gon’ have my head fo’ that one."

Harry is adamant in his doom, but if anything, y/n is not a quitter. "No he’s not. He hasn’t seen it yet, right? You said he was already gone when you brought the file."

He takes a long breath, "I suppose not."

"Guess it’s a good thing I have the keys to his office then, yeah?" She smiles proudly as a beacon of hope shines on his conflicted face. The forest green of his eyes seems to breath back to life in an endearing revival, effectively tugging at y/n’s heart’s merciful strings.

"Fuck, you’d do that fo’ me?" his shoulders loosen up in relief, the tension slowly simmering down to a gentle buzz, as he envisages the possibility of an illicit break-in. Well, as illicit as it may be, considering they have the keys. Still, best they don’t get caught snooping in the boss’ office, for both of their sake.

"Of course, silly. No questions asked," y/n answers with a smile, and her willingness to put herself in potential trouble, warms Harry’s heart from inside out.

"Y/n, you’re an angel, a life savior," he grabs her shoulders in each of his hands, his gratitude painted all over his soft traits. "Fuck, I could kiss you right now." The words fly out of his mouth without him realizing their significance after spending the last ten minutes coming onto her. And well, y/n isn’t too opposed to the idea either, and she thinks she might hold him to that promise in retribution for her saving grace when the time and space works better in their favor. "Alright Casanova, let’s get your ass out of this mess," she grabs her purse form the table and takes his hand to guide him through the cluster of people milling around the office space, eventually reaching the row of elevators across the room.

As they stand waiting for their lift to come, Harry starts fidgeting with nervous energy, feeling like a kid who’s about to get caught trying to steal straight from the cookie jar. "Shit, alright, we have to be discrete if we want to pull this off," he tells her, not taking his eyes off the room in case someone would look at them and read their plan straight off their guilty-looking faces.

"Says the guy in the flashy suit," y/n immediately counters, in an attempt to revive the playfulness of their synergy. The night was going swimmingly before the whole ordeal, and she’s convinced this foxy little adventure can only add to the appeal of an evening full of surprises.

Harry’s indignation at her dig teeters from his pouty lips, "hey! It’s not that bad." She giggles at his poor rebuttal, and as the doors of the elevator open, they quickly take a few steps inside.

"Harry, that suit is so loud, it could break the sound barrier," y/n teases as she eyes the crowd of people frivolously chatting away, while waiting for the door to close back.

"Thought I cleaned up nicely," he cheekily throws back her words from earlier, letting them resonate within the small confines of the elevator as they make their way up to their boss’ office.

She turns to face him then, a smile spreading on her supple lips, "don’t get me wrong, you look wonderful, just nowhere near decent for a secret spy mission."

Her words have him beaming back at her in a second, his mind fixated on her compliment rather than how impractical it is that his clothes are flashier than the Queen’s; in his defense, neither are y/n’s. "Damn, just got upgraded from nice to wonderful, this night is actually turning around," he chirps as the door open to the deserted hallway of the top floor.

"Alright, more action and less flirting, Styles," y/n playfully chides him. "Go get the right file, while I open his door, we should be quick in case he decides to bring the tour and his special guest up here." She sends him off with a tilt of her chin in what she knows to be the direction of his office, and Harry complies with ease and starts backtracking a few doors down, "yes ma’am."

While he’s gone to fetch the correct document from his office, y/n rummages through her purse to find the key of her boss’ office and unlock the door. Once she’s inside, she makes her way around the imposing mahogany desk commanding the space, and finds the imposter file sitting innocently on the polished wood. For pure curiosity’s sake, she starts leafing through its contents and lets a small chuckle as she takes in the endearing work of a young aspiring writer.

Her reading is interrupted by Harry’s hurried strides when he joins her in the room. "Here’s the damn report," he flings the folder on the desk next to his niece’s, red clashing with blue, mocking him for his slight negligence. As he absorbs the sight of y/n’s face engrossed in the teenage’s fiction, he moves slowly behind her, getting a glimpse at his niece’s whimsical words over her shoulder, before his eyes settle on the bare skin of her back.

Y/n welcomes his sudden proximity, has stranding on end as she feels the soft puffs of his breaths against her neck. "Your niece is quite the writer, does she always come to you for advice?"

She ignores the shivers running down her spine, and gulps when Harry’s voice greets her ears in a deep quiet hoarse, closer than she excepted, "usually, yeah. I was the one who got her into writing, so it’s kinda become our thing, I guess."

She smiles at his softness, "that’s really sweet," and draws in a long breath in a vain attempt to calm her jitters. She can almost feel his presence on her skin though they’re technically not touching, her fingertips tingling in anticipation.

Another frisson travels through her when he responds with a low "mhm," his nose slightly grazing behind her ear, taking in her beguiling fragrance. Jasmine and vanilla, fresh and soft, exciting and comforting at the same time; it suits her perfectly.

"Harry-" she doesn’t know what to follow the whisper of his name with. Careful? Not here? Please don’t stop? At this point, she wants nothing more than to succumb to his affections, regardless of their improper whereabouts.

Harry brushes the back of his index down the smooth skin of her back in a featherlike caress, "thanks fo’ saving my ass, tonight," he murmurs into her ear, before laying a small kiss behind it.

Y/n is exulting under his tender ministrations, her eyes closed to enhance the feeling of his touch. "Anytime," she breathes out as her head tilts backward, a hand coming behind his neck in a silent plea not to let go, and Harry smiles against her skin at her receptiveness, goosebumps of his own blossoming across his body.

His next words are out of his mouth before he can think, "mmm, I owe you a big one," his playful persona resurfacing now that the situation was handled. They snort in unison at the double-entendre, and Harry slides his free arm around her waist to bring her closer to his chest in silent remittance. Y/n doesn’t mind though, she kinda likes this boyish side of him, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Gross."

"Hilarious."

Their ping-pong of wisecrack is back despite the tension permeating the air. It’s the kind that speeds heartbeats and moistens palms in lustful anticipation, the kind that curtails people’s breath as their lungs fill up with voluptuous aphrodisia. "Will you let me kiss you? Show you all my gratitude? I really wanna have a taste, love," he pleads for her permission, and y/n is too consumed by desire to deny him, "have it."

In one swift move, he spins around and latches his eager lips onto her. Passion ensues, hands roaming all over each other to find the perfect hold; the back of a neck, the lapels of a suit jacket, a few strands of hair, the curve of an exposed ribcage, it’s all intoxicating but there is always more to explore. Their tongues are caught up in a heated tango of their own, swirling around each other to quench the thirst of passion, licking their lustful way around their mouths.

At one point, Y/n finds herself pressed against her boss’ desk, one leg around Harry’s waist as he attaches his hips to hers in a heated embrace that leaves them breathless upon parting. He rests his forehead against her temple as they both process the intimate exchange, not ready to burst out of this fairy bubble. "Fuck, been waiting to do that for a while," he exhales with a smile, still incredulous at the evening’s proceedings, and the girl nestled in his arms.

"Same," she agrees and gently cups his face to bring his eyes back to hers, barely believing the adoration and warmth swimming within his lovely olive irises.

Harry’s heart feels like a ticking bomb about to implode, the sweet taste of her lips already providing him with a fix he didn’t know he was addicted to. "One more," he demands against her mouth before diving into another searing kiss. This time his hands explore more meticulously, scavenging for other soft spots to add on to his mental list. The dimples in her back right above the curve of her ass seem to rival the area at her side right below the swell of her breast, but Harry is pretty sure he’ll find more sensitive spots in the near future. Hopefully.

Once again, the need for oxygen compels them to part way, but neither of them make a move to separate their tangled limbs. Y/n is reveling in the moment she’s been daydreaming about for months, "so good," she keeps whispering sweet nothing against his lips while rubbing her nose against the bridge of his.

Harry clears his throat as he regains his bearings, realizing that there are still very much in the middle of their boss’ office, a place they are not supposed to be in, doing stuff they’re not supposed to be doing. At least not here. "Let’s get outta here, yeah?" he brushes a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, "you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and I’ll tend to yours once we’re back at my place, what’dya say?"

And well, how can one say no to that?

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #Harry fic #harry styles au #ofc #reader insert #coworker!harry #office au #fluff #flirting #harry styles fluff

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widowsofchaos · 4 years

Text

Poor Little Rich Boy

summary: you find out your boyfriend isn’t all that innocent as he seems.

warnings: yandere behavior, violence, and gore. dub-non con. Ya know the filthy vibes.

Pairing: dark college!Tony Stark x black!reader

a/n: this is my first time writing Tony so be gentle with me <3

do not respost my works!

“I, Howard Anthony Walter Stark, being of sound, mind, and body do hereby declare that this document is my last will and testament. I bestow my legacy in the hands of my only heir, my son, Anthony Edward Stark. All my assets, finances, and chair as CEO of Stark Industries are now in his hands.”

Buzz.

A dull silent vibration shook in the confinement of Tony’s jean pocket, pulling him out of his sullen trance. Instinctively ignoring the notification, as he listened onto the blurred words of the lawyer reading his late father’s will.

Biting his lip to contain his swirling emotions -- aggravation to just collect his inherited earnings, and head home to you.

Buzz.

With a hazy eye-roll, Tony casually sneaked his palm into his pocket, retrieving the phone. As the family lawyer droned on reading, aged eyes glued onto the paper; Tony peaked at the screen, with the quick analysis of face ID -- his pupils dilated like saucers.

His nostrils flared, inhaling deeply, his chest heaving -- he gotta get home immediately. An iron grip onto the phone, he roughly dug it back into his pocket, his foot tapping against the carpeted flooring. Antsy.

God, please make time go faster.

Buzz.

His fingers itched to snatch the cellular device, internally screaming for another peak at the salacious cheeky messages.

Messages from you -- photos of yourself seated on his bedroom floor, in only a high-waisted thong, and his custom tailored blazer.

The creamy beige against your buttery smooth bronze skin was divine, Tony swears anything you wear is pulled off with elegance. Your brown areolas are slipping out just a tad bit from the flaps, a hint of what’s awaiting for him.

His cock hardened against the denim fabric, Tony salivates whenever you wear his clothing, his scent imprinting onto your flesh - of you in compromising positions, your neatly manicured fingers inside your panties, rubbing your swollen nub. Biting your plump bottom lip.

Buzz.

Another picture with a text, you were sipping from a glass, his best Scotch, with the typed words, “I miss you. I know my favorite boy is blue, come back home so I can take care of you.” Signed with a kissy face emoji, and a red heart.

You were leaning on your elbows, your bouncy ass in the air, legs bent upward with your ankles playfully interlocked in the air.

The glass of ale leaning downward against your teasing lips, and sultry eyes through the reflective mirror -- Tony’s cock twitched, oh he’s gonna eat you up when he gets home.

- It was midnight, the full moon shining bright in the inky indigo sky -- beaming upon the Stark manor. The white fluorescent solar satellite glistening upon the grand bedroom where two lovers lay satiated in bed.

Rubbing random circles by the pads of your fingertips on Tony’s sweaty broad chest, taming the beast into a purring feline.

“I love you.” Tony’s mild slurred speech infiltrated the serene silence, your nose scrunched up in glee. “I love you too.” you murmured in his neck, a lazy grin stretched on your face.

For hours, Tony, and yourself haven’t left the bedroom, stringing release after release -- letting Tony pinch, pull your hair, bruise, slap, and choke your soft flesh-- that’s what he loves about you, trusting him wholeheartedly with your body, and soul.

A lot of tears of euphoria, and fear of abandonment. Reassuring Tony that you would never leave him, breathy hymns of I love yous in his ear.

It’s been a couple of difficult few weeks, Howard Stark has passed at the age of 74. A fatal car crash taking his life, leaving behind his only son. It was only freshly five months ago that Tony lost his mother, Maria. Uterine cancer - multiple tumors.

Maria Stark, the matriarch of the family, was the light of Tony’s life. Maria was a saint, even at death’s door, she had a positive perspective. You can still recall her calling her tumors fruit bowls of pain - her tumors were the size of miniature melons; grew from the size of strawberries.

And when she died -- the already fractured relationship of father and son deteriorated to ash. Howard started becoming colder, more stricter on his son -- his disappointment fueling by the second.

Clayed into a modernized Narcissus -- guising his trauma with bloviating chatter to impress the little people. Boasting his youthful genius with no shame.

Tony may have been born from the finest cloth, a silver-spoon wedged in his mouth -- but he oozes the work ethic of a blue-collar joe.

Under the molden gait of a promising demigod is a fragile boy -- yearning for affection. A neglected child desperate for attention.

Sending nudes to your boyfriend while he’s attending his dead father’s will hearing -- many would deem that as distasteful -- tacky, even. But, you knew Tony’s coping mechanisms.

Frat parties, drinking excessively to the brink of oblivion, and copious amounts of sex.

Tony was raised in a household, where any emotional turmoil expressed to his father was shot down, except with his mother -- he needs a womanly touch.

He never saw his conquests as ladies, only whores to get his rocks off, but once he laid eyes on you -- sweet, and bubbly -- that little rich boy was a goner.

Succumbing to a dazed half-slumber, Tony’s cell phone rings at the bedside table -- you groaned at the intrusion. Flashing on the screen was Happy’s goofy grin, one of Tony’s closest friends. You mumbled a ‘of fucking course’, Tony cheekily chuckled at your frustration.

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks. This won’t take long.” With the wisp of a lingering kiss on your hairline, Tony begrudgingly detached himself from you--proudly strutting his naked bare firm ass, picking up his boxers from the floor shamelessly displaying his hung cock, and balls.

“Nice ass.” you teased. Tony snorted, “Nice? Toots, it’s the finest ass. And you love it.” He winked at you over his shoulder, you giggled. Tony’s footfalls faded down the hall, his conversation blurring into the distance. You laid back down, sighing as you stared up at the ceiling, quickly getting bored.

Without Tony to entertain you, you had nothing to do. Maybe I could get a head start on my thesis? Your eyes languidly rolled to the corner of your lids, staring at your opened crumbled book-bag mocking you at the corner of the room, Fuck that. You grumbled.

Mindlessly deciding to get dressed, and search for substance. Hours of unadulterated love-making can take out a lot of energy.

Nimble quiet feet tip-toe down the stairs, covered in only Tony’s wrinkled white button-down, brown statuesque legs gracefully head to the kitchen -- but you halt in your tracks. A dim light seeps from the crack out of an office -- Howard’s former office.

Curiosity overwhelms you, biting down your tongue, you check your surroundings, making sure Tony is nowhere in sight. Earlier in the day, the office was locked -- why is it now open?

Open-palm press against the door, a tiny creak of the mahogany makes you cringe internally. Stealthy you walk into the office, nothing seems to be out of place. Maybe Tony was in here? Fidgety fingers skim against the polished wooden desk, at the corner of your eye, a mess of papers sit idly by.

You pick the papers up, fastly flicking through it. Statements declaring Tony as the new CEO of Stark Industries, royalties, and -- mechanic blueprints?

Your chest began heaving, breaths still choppy fuming out of your nose, your left eye twitched from the stressing bile rising. Here in your hands are the blueprints of a familiar vehicle -- Howard Stark’s car. Descriptive details on the full functionality of the car, why are these here?

Warm palms clutch your shoulders, soothingly rubbing, you flinch by the surprise, “You weren’t meant to see those.” A hot breath fan against your ear, you whimper, his voice sounded husky, menacingly.

Not daring to look him in the eye, frozen in your spot as if the soles of your feet grew roots in the flooring, Tony’s grasp on your arms tighten. “The old man was going to take me off the will. I know he was.”

A chaste kiss on your temple, “As if I didn’t take his shit over the years just for nothing. Blaming me for my mother’s death.” He grumbled against your skin, your blood running cold. There was no remorse in his voice, a hint of satisfaction.

This isn’t the Tony you knew.

A beast of his father’s making.

“Tony - I - I won’t tell anyone, I promise--” Tony shushed your stuttering, his rough hands snaking its travel to your waist, slithering his forearms around your torso, ensnaring you.

“I know, baby. I know you wouldn’t. You’re my good girl.” He spoke in your hair, small lingering kisses on your scalp. Tony was rocking your body back and forth, cradling you -- he can sense your fear.

With trepidation, you held his arms, a little shaky. “Tony, let’s just go back to bed.” Your voice was cracking, this isn’t the man you fell in love with, and you wanted to just run away as far as you can.

“You’re scared of me?” Although it was an intended question, its tone came off as a fact. Indeed you were terrified of him.

“No.” You spat too quickly for your liking. Tony gripped your chin, and twisted your head to face him, “I would never hurt you. I love you. Everything I do is for you.” Your breath hitched, his face was morphed into a sad feral puppy.

“I know. I know you do.” You feigned a weak smile, “I just didn’t think --” you stopped yourself before you vomited any other words. “Do what? Kill?” Tony cocked a brow, with a shit-eating grin. “I did it before. For you.” Tears were forming at the brim of his eyes, your doe-eyes widened, you began squirming in his arms. “Tony, what did you do?!” you shrieked, limbs failing.

Tony’s iron-grip didn’t let up, refusing to let you go, “He wasn’t right for you!” Tony bellowed on the top of his lungs, impulsive rage seeping through, fumbling feet colliding.

Both of your bodies falling to the carpeted floor as Tony tried to restrain your wrists, fumbling feet slipping. A miscalculated misstep sent you, and Tony colliding downward.

Tony’s weight pinning you down. Confusion making your head go dizzy, “What do you mean?” You whispered. Tony smashed his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks, “You know what I mean.” His brows furrowed, gently his forehead on yours, his eyes staring into your soul.

Realization hits you like a freight train, flashes of your ex, the cops alerting you of his disappearance, Tony’s lingering shadow always appearing to provide comfort -- “Brock?” a lone tear trickle down your eye, down your temple, and hitting the carpet below. Tony nodded frantically.

Tony’s lips peppered against your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your eye-lids, your nose, your chin; mumbling affection against your tear-stained face.

It’s been three years since Brock vanished, rumors flew around campus from students believing he killed himself in some remote location, you lost him in the first years of university.

You were grief-stricken, but Tony, being the ever-present close friend lend a shoulder -- then soon, it blossomed into much more.

“Now, it's just us. We can start a new dollface.” Tony sniffled, hot tears drip upon your flesh, “We can start our own family” he rasps, “I can be a dad. A better father.” Your eyes widened at his suggestion.

A family? You both were just shy of twenty-one, and already Tony is mapping out your entire futures. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was futile.

Tony murmured nonono to your bodily request of escape, chasing clumsy blubbering kisses against your chavile. Your body began to be wrecked with sobs, your chest heaving.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s better this way.” Tony’s brows were furrowed sorrowfully, his tremor low with ache. “You killed Brock, how could you?! I loved him!” Tony gripped your jaw, painfully his fingers kneading,

“Loved him?! He wasn’t right for you! You need me! I need you! No one is going to love you like I do. I loved you the first day I met you.” Harsh fingers rip off the fabric, exposing your breasts to the elements.

“You’re mine! No one can have you! I will kill anyone who tries to take you away!” Tony’s mouth plunged, fangs nibbling on your nipples, his entire mouth suckling your left breasts.

Tony’s left hand pinching your right nipple, twisting and slapping it roughly. You yelped, shutting your eyes closed. Your skin crawled, Tony’s brown eyes peered at you, dissatisfied that you refuse to look at him.

A sloppy pop echoed, “Look at me!” he slapped you, the crack of it pounding in your ears, the heat of the sting scorched throughout your cheek. Your eyes popped open, watery from the hit, Tony has never once laid a hand on you -- until now.

Nose to nose, “We’re gonna be a family--” one of his hands traveled down to tug down his boxers, his hard swollen cock is man-handled in his palm, you struggled to get away, but Tony clutched your wrists in one hand, and pinned it on the carpet.

Tony spit on your cunt, rubbing it within your velvety folds by the base of his veiny cock, earning a hiss out of you. “You’re going to look so hot swollen with our baby.” Your thighs twitched, Tony roughly forced your thigh to wrap around his torso, positioning himself.

“Please - Tony, please don’t”, you cried, Tony shushed you. Lining himself to your hole, with no hesitation, plunged his cock inside your pussy. You screamed, your back arching, “Feels lovely, right? Feels so fucking delicious - you were made for me.” Tony snarled, biting your chin, his tongue trailing your jawline, pistoning his cock inside you.

Dripping slick smears against your thighs, clenching onto his cock, a broken groan slips from Tony’s lips, “Fuck - yes, do that again.” You were blubbering tears down your cheeks, the inevitable pleasure Tony strings out of you is undeniable.

“You’re so tight, and warm.” He growled in your ear, “I can’t wait to have a baby with you. You all swollen, waddling around with bare-feet. You’ll be a great mother - just like mine.” He whispered, biting on your lobe.

You murmured muffled whines in the crock of his neck, bruising is slowly forming on your hips, fucking you like it’s the last time. Shivers run down Tony’s spine, time slows down.

Sweaty skin slapping against skin spurred him on, taking all of you. Your nails scratch at his palm, still bounding you down.

“I love you.” He whimpered, you bite your lip, refusing to sink into the instinct of saying it back. Tony perked his head up from your neck, growling, “Say it back!” he thrusted his pelvis against you, a cattle wail hit you, “Say -” thrust “it-” another thrust “-back!” his smile falters slow, a bruising touch.

He can see you slowly yielding, small pants of electric euphoria, “No!” you bite back.

Wet lips slant against yours. Your entire body jolting from his unforgiving pace, your back burning slightly from the rug beneath you.

Releasing your wrists, his rough hand find it’s way to your back, hiking you up, squeezing your ass in his fingers, bucking your hips; fucking you onto him, your nails dig into his sculpted back -- scratching for him to stop, but it felt too good.

You’ve become dizzy. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, hoping the pain makes him halt his actions, but it makes him harden inside of you.

There’s no space between you, melting into one, the friction, the heat; the tethers of reality blur into nothing.

“Please - say you love me.” Tony pleaded, his weary eyes sinking into yours. A robbery -- a heart-wrenching robbery of your soul, in an instant, you didn’t see a cold-blooded killer, but the mire of a lost boy.

He slowed down his thrusts, leisure movements, his brown orbs are glossy, “Say it, please.” Tony gently kisses you, not feverish, but you can taste the sweet commitment. Like he doesn’t own you, but he worships you.

“I love you.” you mumbled against his swollen lips, his eyes dilated, rubbing his nose against yours, “I love you” maneuvering your hips, squelching can be heard - sticky as honey, as the pace picked up.

Your fingers grip his soft fluffy hair, his balls slapping against your ass, “I love you, Tony.” You sucked on his bottom lip. He whimpered. His cock was coated in your juices, you can feel the swelling of his balls, and his uneven jerking movements -- he was close.

“Cum for me, baby.” Tony’s eyes were shut, he mewled, “Cum inside me, give me a baby, Tony.” The dam breaks. The window bursts open from a gust of wind, the full moon gleamed upon your sweaty sheen bodies, a howl erupts from Tony -- as the wolf within has been unhinged -- primal, feral fueled lust.

Toothy grin, all fangs lunged for your pulse point, devouring you. Squirted juices spray from you, splashing against his toned stomach, not once stopping, riding through the orgasm. Tony’s tongue peaked out, droplets of your cum sprinkling his mouth.

Your vision turns white, an inhuman scream leaves you, Tony collapses onto you.

He’s trembling, frightened, you massage his dome, “My sweet boy.” Tony sobs into your chest, ensnaring himself around your torso. You hugged him, cradling like a baby, as he cried water-falls.

“It’s okay.” You kiss his head, a lingering one, “It’s going to be alright.”

You’re all he has.

#buckybarnesplumwhore wrote this #tony stark x reader smut #tony stark x reader angst #yandere tony stark #yandere tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark tony stark x reader #dark marvel

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lewdanimevsirl · 3 years

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Musashi: Fallen Swordswoman

WARNING:This story is a work of fiction and contains many mature elements. Please do not continue if you are unable to handle such content. NOTE: This is a continuation from that messed up fanfiction that I wrote, but you do not need to read it to understand the context. This can be read by itself. The characters in this story are based on their depiction in Fate Grand Order which is developed by Delightworks and based on Type-Moon’s Fate franchise. I am not a lore expert, thus some terms and information used may be inaccurate. Sorry for any weird English or grammatical mistakes.

Previously…

It was summer and everyone was enjoying themselves at the beach. I was supposed to be out there having fun and I even had something planned with Jeanne. But I ended up stuck in a room, having to help Jalter with her work. After finishing with her work, I headed out to look for Jeanne, as she had promised me to introduce me to her dolphin, Reece. I eventually found out that the sweet and innocent looking Jeanne was just a façade. I could not believe my eyes from what I have seen. I lifelessly walked away from the horror that was before me. I want to erase that out of my mind…

Now

Loud cheers and noise could be heard throughout the beach. All the Servants are out on the beach, enjoying themselves, having fun, oblivious to the horror that I have just witnessed. “Master, join us!! Master, what’s wrong?” Many of the Servants called out to me, trying to invite me to join them in their games. But I just could not hear them. I could not process any more information. I lifelessly continued walking back to the resort, ignoring all the Servants. Was the beach this big? Why is the walk back this long? After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it back to the Chaldea holiday resort. The resort was established as a rest-stop for Servants to take a break during the summer. Now, it felt like a quiet place where I can just drink my sorrows away and forget everything I have seen. Due to most of the Servants being out at the beach enjoying themselves, I managed to take a mini-fridge full of beer back to my room without any major interruption. I planned to drink all my sorrows away. I planned to get so drunk that I will erase that image out of my mind.

Back at the Beach

“Is Master alright? He ignored all of us…” “He looked like a zombie, do you think he was overworked by Jalter?” “Hey, stop reminding me of work!!” Noticing my zombie-like appearance, many of the Servants began to gather around to discuss what has happened to me “Do you think there is anything we can do? Musashi, what do you think? Did you notice anything?” Being the last person I spoke to, Musashi was shocked by the drastic change. She could not believe her eyes that the energetic and carefree Master that greeted her a few minutes ago has turned into a lifeless zombie. “I… really don’t know… But… I don’t think… it is… anything… I said…” Musashi tried to figure out what had happened to me. “But… I will find a way to cheer Master up!! Especially since I was the last person he spoke to. I don’t think it is my fault, but I have the responsibility to cheer him up!” Musashi ensured the other Servants that she will try to cheer me up, before making her way towards the Chaldea holiday resort. “What should I do? I know… When I am down, Master always cooks for me a bowl of udon. I should cook him a bowl, maybe he will cheer up…”

In my room

“Why!!! Jeanne!!! Why!!!” I was sobbing in a corner while downing cans of beer to drink away all my pain and sorrow. Empty cans of beer littered around the room. It was said that being drunk would let you forget all your pain and suffering. But no matter how much I drank, I could not get drunk. No matter how much I drank, I just could not forget about it. Suddenly, the door to my room opened and I was blinded by the bright light radiating from the outside corridor. A silhouette appeared at the door, blocking the bright light. As the silhouette entered the room, the door closed, returning the room into complete darkness. “Come on Master!! Just look at yourself, you are barely functioning. I have something for you… Here, have some freshly made udon!!” The lights to my room flickered on, and the silhouette was revealed to be Miyamoto Musashi in her Berserker-Swimsuit form. She was donning her Stars and Stripes bikini complemented with her red and blue shrug. “I don’t know what you had been through but look at this mess!!” Musashi placed the bowl of udon on the desk before proceeding to clear the empty beer cans that littered around my room. “Master, go and have some udon while I clear this up. You will feel better once you eat it…” I sheepishly smiled at her words. Come on, Musashi, not everyone is like you. If udon can solve everything, then we don’t need to do all fighting anymore. We could just gather around and eat udon… But I will give her props for trying to cheer me up. Even though udon will not solve what I just been through, at least it would mean something to her… I fumbled my way up and slowly made my way towards the desk. Whether it was the alcohol kicking in or just pure coincidence, I will never know, but as I slowly made my way, I accidentally tripped on one of the empty can that was littered around the floor. “Bang!!!” “Uhm… Master… Can you get off me?” Instead of banging headfirst into the cold hard floor, I landed on the soft back of Musashi. Was her skin this soft and tender. Did she ever smell this nice? I don’t know whether it was the effect of the alcohol or my pent-up emotional stress or both, but Musashi was looking irresistible. Her warm body feels so enticing.

“Come on Master! Stop playing around, the udon is getting… Hahhh!!” With each passing moment, I was gradually taken over by lust. I knew I should not do this to the female Servants, but I could not control myself any longer. I gave in to the temptation and embraced Musashi in a tight hug, catching her by surprise. Without giving her any time to react, I slide my hands into her bikini top, around her beautiful curvaceous breasts and began to play with her nipples. “Hyahh… Master… please… Ahhh… stop… Argh…” Musashi tried to get me to stop, but with each moan she made, I grew even more horny. I quicken the assault on her breasts and her erected nipples and start to nibble all over her neck. Gradually, Musashi’s body began to relax and gave in to all the pleasure that she was experiencing. Seeing that she had relaxed, I took the opportunity and removed the shrug and the bikini top that were covering her beautiful assets. Turning her over, I was taken back by the mesmerising figure that was in front of her. Her irresistible breasts were a sight to behold. “Stop… Master… I am… shy about this…” Musashi tried to cover her breasts with her hands, but her blushing face just made me even more horny. She had awakened something in me. A desire of lust. I pounded onto her and pinned my lips onto hers. Initially, Musashi was taken back by the kiss, but soon she returned it passionately. Our tongues began to fight for dominance in each other mouth. Of course, my hands also wanted some of the action. As I continued kissing the beauty lying underneath me, my hands started roaming around her exposed breasts and began marking every curve with their fingerprints. Whenever I flicked past her nipples, an erotic moan could be heard emitting from Musashi’s mouth. Gradually, she gave in to her own desires and her hands started hugging around me as we lied on the floor, kissing like long-lost lovers. “Musashi?” I stopped kissing her and stared into her beautiful eyes. Musashi was taken back by the question. I can feel she wanted to continue our passionate kissing session. “I feel… we should… proceed… to the next stage…” “What… is the… Hyahhh!!!” Before Musashi could clarify what I meant, I had already slid my left hand into her bikini bottom and began caressing her nether regions. It was unbelievably wet. As my left fingers entered her pussy, Musashi started to resume her moaning. “How are you this wet?!? You are such a dirty woman!!” “Ahhh… I… am… Arghhh… not… dirty… Hahhh… I… just… never… Aaahh… this… much… Huahhh… before…” “I bet you use your swords to pleasure yourself every night” I continued to tease Musashi while fingering her and kissing all over her breasts. My left fingers scraped the walls of her tunnel and played with her clit, while my right hand continued to explore her body. “… No… Arghh… swords… Hhaah… are… Ahhh… for… fighting… “ Musashi squirmed and moaned underneath me as I continued my assault on both her nipples and her pussy. The strong warrior that had accompanied me in my daily missions had become a horny woman, losing herself to all the stimulation her body was receiving from my hands and mouth. “… … Master… I…” Before long, I could feel a wave of fluid gushing out of her pussy, covering my left fingers with her sticky substances. As Musashi lied breathless on the floor, panting from her first organsm, I slowly took off her drenched bikini bottom to reveal her wet, but beautiful vulva. “… Master… don’t… look… it’s… Hyahhh!!” Musashi tried to cover her nether regions with her hands, but I easily swept them aside. I lowered my head near her pussy and started licking her. Her wet pussy tasted like a sweet drug that I could not stop devouring. “AHhhh… don’t… Hyahh… lick… Arghhhh… it… is… dirty…” “No, it is not!!” I continued to lick her while my hands roamed and played with her beautiful cleavage. “You taste delicious, do you want to try it…” I stop my oral assault in her pussy and proceeded back to kissing her lips that were screaming for action. With all the pleasure she was

experiencing, Musashi gradually returned to a state of heat. “Musashi, how do you taste?” I stopped my kiss and caressed the face of the beautiful woman that was drunk on her own pleasure. “… I… taste… beautifully…” “Then shall we continue with the main course?” At this point, lust has completely taken over my mind and I wanted nothing more than to fuck the bewitching piece of art that was lying in front of me. I took off my clothes and my undergarments and revealed my cock to Musashi. “… Master… wait… what’s…” The Musashi that accompanied on the field would be brave and resolute, but right now, she was acting like a shy girl, blushing, and covering her eyes, trying to avoid the sight of my penis. I slowly lowered my rod near her enticing pussy and started rubbing it along her vaginal entrance. How I love to just ram it into her, but I want her to enjoy it. I want her to enjoy every moment, every inch, every movement I made. Erotic moans began to emit from Musashi’s mouth with every rub I made along her wet pussy. I could feel her body slowly relaxing and succumbing to her sexual desires. “… Arghhhh… Master… Hahhhh… please… stop… teasing… Hyahh… just… Ahhh… do… it…” “I can’t hear you through your erotic moans… do what? Can you repeat it loud and clear?” Ignoring Musashi’s pleas, I continued rubbing my penis along her entrance. At this point, all forms of reasoning had evaporated from my mind. I only seek to fulfil my own sexual desires. “… Master… Ahhhh… please… put… Hyahhh… it… in…” “Put what in?” “… Put… Ahhh… your… cock… Hyahhhh… into… my… Hahhhh… pussy… Ahhh… please… fuck… me…” Whether she uttered those words consciously or do so due to her subconscious desires, as soon as I heard the strong Musashi said out those words, I positioned my cock and started to insert it into her pussy. Even though her wet pussy was well-lubricated from all her fluids, I can feel that Musashi was taken back by the initial pain that came from my cock stretching her tunnel. I had deflowered the Flower of Tengen. Ignoring her squirms, I gave her a passionate kiss on her lips to distract her from the pain. Slowly, her body began to relax and gave in to the pleasure. With every movement I made, with every inch I inserted into her, loud erotic moans could be heard from her. I could not control myself any longer. I readied my cock and began to thrust it into Musashi. With each thrust I made, moans and shrieks could be heard coming from the horny girl’s mouth. Thanks goodness the walls of the room are soundproof, otherwise every soul in the building could hear her loud moans. “… Master… I…” Before I could react, Musashi wrapped her arms and legs around me and gave me a passionate kiss. All our moans were silenced by the passionate kiss we were having. Before long, I felt her tunnel tighten up on my cock. A wave of fluid could soon be felt enveloping my cock as Musashi succumbed to her orgasmic pleasure. As my cock became covered by her fluids, I also found myself at my limit. Hugging Musashi tightly, I could feel my penis hardening and releasing a wave of cum into her tunnel. Thanks goodness Servants do not carry the risk of STDs and can’t be impregnated. As our bodies relaxed from our intense ejaculation, I slowly broke away from our kiss and withdrawed my cock out of her pussy. Drips of fluid could be seen lingering on my cock and dripping out of her pussy. We lied on floor panting, our naked bodies on each other, covered with each other sweat and bodily fluids. “… Musashi… how was it?” “… … It was… nothing… I had… ever… experienced…” “… Don’t you think… I should… get a… reward… in return…” “… …” Musashi looked at me puzzledly, confused by what I have just said. Seeing her confused face, I slowly stood up and positioned my penis near her face. “… Since… I licked you… maybe… you can… clean… me… off…” “… Alright…” Musashi positioned herself and kneeled in front of me such that her face was millimetres away from my cock. She sticked out her tongue and start to lick my flaccid cock clean. As I gazed

at the beautiful Musashi licking my penis, I started to feel aroused and horny again. “…Uhm… Master…” Musashi was taken by back by my erected penis. “He became hard again because of you, Musashi…” “Because of me?” “Yes… because of your seductive body… maybe you should take responsibility for this…” Musashi brightened up as soon as I mentioned it was her body that made my cock hard. She continued licking my fully erected penis before putting the whole cock into her petite mouth. Musashi, renowned as the strongest swordswoman in Japan, is giving me a blowjob in my own room. Even though the feeling of my penis in her mouth feels different when it was in her vagina, it felt so good, so pleasurable. I instinctively placed my hands on her hair and started to bobbed her head back and forth. As I aggressively deep-throated the swordswoman, I felt my penis hardening from all her licking and sucking. “… Musashi… I am cumming…” Loads of cum erupted from my cock into her mouth. As I removed my cock from her mouth, semen could be seen dripping from my cock and her mouth. Before I could apologise to Musashi for ejaculating into her mouth without permission, she sat there like a seductive slut and began to swallow all my fluid. I always thought heart-shaped pupils were a work of fiction, but if I could describe the scene before me, I would say Musashi had been completely taken over by lust. Her eyes were full of sexual desires. “… Master… I am wet again… Is your cock hard again… please fuck Musashi again…” The woman who appeared in front of me was not the brave swordswoman that fought countless beasts. She was a lewd slut who just want to be fucked. Like any horny person, as soon as I heard those words, my penis immediately became erect again. I lifted Musashi from the ground and threw her body first onto my bed. The naked and erotic Musashi was on my bed, her voluptuous ass tempting me with her every sway. I could not resist it anymore. Once again, I positioned my cock at her entrance. Instead of slowly teasing her like before, I immediately thrust it in and pounded her from behind. Her well-lubricated pussy and my fluid-coated cock made each thrust smooth and effortless. With each thrust, erotic moans could be heard coming from her mouth, filling the room. “… Arghhhh… Hyahhh… Ahhhh…” “… You should… look at yourself… you are… such a… slut!!” “… Yes… Argh… Musashi… is a… slut… Hahhh…” “… Whose slut… are you?” “… Hahhh… Musashi… is… Ahhhh… Master’s personal… cum… dump… Hyahhh… slut…” Hearing those dirty words coming out from the once strong-willed Musashi made me even more aroused and horny. I quicken my thrusts into her, which in turn cause her to erupt into more moans and shrieks. I hugged Musashi’s erotic body and leaned in for a passionate kiss. As we embraced each other, I felt her vaginal walls tightening on my cock. I knew she was near her limit. As I expected, fluids began gushing out of her. As my cock become covered with her fluid again, I felt my penis hardening. I was near my limit as well. However instead of cumming into her pussy, I decided to try something new. Taking Musashi by surprise, I pulled out my cock from her wet pussy and turned her body around. I positioned my cock towards her body and immediately after, a barrage of semen shot out of my penis and sprayed across her seductive body, her beautiful breasts and her lewd face. After my third ejaculation, I fall on the fluid-covered Musashi, trying to catch my breath while reflecting on everything that has happened. I could not believe I just did all of that. As I rested on Musashi, distracted by my own thoughts, I was taken back by a sloppy kiss. The lewd girl has returned to a state of arousal and wanted more… “… Master…please… fuck.. me… again…” The once strong and resolute warrior had been defiled into a slutty girl addicted to sex. I am so glad Chaldea demanded all personnel to train on their personal fitness, otherwise I definitely would not be able to keep up with the sex-craved demon lying next to me. I willingly

gave myself to Musashi’s temptation and began to ravage her again. The room was soon filled with loud moans and shrieks of pleasure.

The next day “… …” I groggily opened my eyes. I could feel a splitting headache and my groin regions were aching badly. “… What… happened…” I looked around and tried to piece everything together. A sleeping beauty Musashi was lying naked beside me. My bed was in a complete mess. The floor was littered with beer cans, and there was a pile of what appeared to be some of my clothing and Musashi’s bikini at the side. There was also a bowl of udon on my desk. “… Oh…” I start to recall what had happened the previous day. What I had saw. Why Musashi was here. I also remembered how we fucked each other. How we tried different sex positions, How we explored each other body. Even though I did not taste your handmade udon, I tasted something even better. Thank you Musashi!!!

Epilogue

At the beach “Master!!! You looked much better today!!” I was chilling at a seaside bar enjoying the warm sun and the sea breeze when I was interrupted by some Servants that came to check up on me. “Thank you for your concern. I was having a bad day, but Musashi cheered me up!!” “Speaking of Musashi, where did that girl go? She promised us we will join us for the watermelon-breaking competition today. Did she get distracted by udon again…” “You know that girl, always having a craving for udon… Or maybe, she found something better than udon…” “Not a chance… it is going to take a miracle for that girl to something other than udon on her mind.” The Servants laughed at what they assumed was my joke. I smiled and wished them luck on their search for Musashi and for their competition. As they walked away, I petted the lewd girl that was sitting below me hidden away from their eyes. My personal “cum dump slut” Musashi was busy licking my cock like her new favourite food. “… So Musashi… did you find anything better than udon?” “Yes!!! Master’s cock is better than udon!!” I smiled and petted her hair with approval. A day ago, she was Musashi, brave swordswoman. Now she had became Musashi, sex slut. Maybe the only way to forget about what I had experienced was through sex. Maybe the only way to convince Jeanne of the errors of her ways was to fuck her, to let her experience what Musashi had gone through… End.

Author’s Notes:

You can put someone into horny jail, but you cannot take the horny out of him/her. So, yep, second fanfiction I have written. Don’t judge me ok, I am just writing my horny away. How do NSFW artists even get the inspiration and energy to pump out those works? Before someone come out and point out how unrealistic this is (and ask me to go outside), firstly, this is a work of fiction. It is not meant to be realistic. And secondly, I know I am projecting some of my kinks and fetishes onto this piece of writing. But aren't all doujin artists and writers just projecting their own kinks? For those who had read my first work, firstly thank you for supporting this horny degenerate, secondly, I know it was messed up. Fortunately, I doubt I will ever venture into that weird territory ever again. All subsequent works should be as straightforward as this. (Well, this isn’t that vanilla but you get the point). And lastly, like my previous work, I was inspired to write this based on a art/meme. This time it is a NSFW Musashi art that I saw on Reddit. So blame the original artist, karakari, and the translator, posted by u/hades334, for this thing (both will be down in the references) As usual, please give some feedback and of course, you are always welcome to create fan art based on this (I know some of you horny artists are reading this). And if there is a talented or experienced doujin artists reading this, you are always welcomed to make a doujin based on this. I would love to see the type of degenerate content people might create.

References:

applekun [@applekun]. (2021, July 11). 水着武蔵ちゃん. [Art]. Pixiv.

FGOcomics [hades334]. (2021, April 20). Musashi's New Favourite [karakaritouge] [Online forum post]. Reddit. https://www.reddit.com/r/FGOcomics/comments/mud096/musashis_new_favourite_karakaritouge/

Karakari [@からかり]. (2020, September 17). もちもちむさしちゃん. [Art]. Pixiv.

Miyamoto Musashi (Female). (2021, July 10). In TYPE-MOON Wiki. https://typemoon.fandom.com/wiki/Miyamoto_Musashi_(Female)?oldid=206464

Unfairr [@unfairr]. (2021, July 13). catalyst. [Art]. Pixiv.

#degenerate #fanfiction #fan fic smut #fanfic #fan fiction #fgo fate grand order #fate grand order #fgo smut #fgo stuff #fgo oc #smut #miyamoto musashi #musashi

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babygirlkiki1016 · 3 years

Text

Masterlist

Chapter 10: A lovely bond

Chapter 11: Unexpected Betrayal

I resealed the door, drawing the same pattern as before to lock it in place. I was going to miss this little cave, for more memories than I ever could imagine happened here. I ran my fingers over my newly designed dwarven braid, after Thorin saw the one I made he decided to redo my braid into a dwarven rose. It was incredibly beautiful, I don't think I'd ever want to take it out.

"Well, you owe me a tooth." Kili wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we headed to the shifter's home. For he had more supplies that we needed, especially some from my home that we have supplied him with. "I found your courter, I will say I am surprised that it was my uncle. I never believed he could feel that way towards you, but now I understand why he didn't want you to think about marriage."

"Oh really? And why is that?"

"He didn't want you to marry anyone else but him, I guess that means we get to call you auntie now. Auntie Y/n, rolls off the tongue doesn't it?"

"Although I'm glad that my uncle has warmed up to you, why would you want to be with someone who hurt you more than once?" Fili came close to my right, giving me a curious look. I didn't know why I loved Thorin, all he has ever done was make me feel sad. Did I fall in love because I wanted a person that didn't want me?

"I don't know the answer to that Fili, I have no idea why I fell in love with him. Thought I'm glad I did, for he has made me feel something I haven't felt in years." My gaze trailed over to the King who is staring back at me with a soft smile, my heart fluttered. As we made our way to the shifter's home, I rejoined my beloved who led the company.

"Thorin." I greeted, making him glance over at me with the same grin from earlier.

"Good morning amralime, I was beginning to worry you were ignoring me. For you haven't said a thing to me all morning."

"I was busy helping the others pack their things, for some reason they kept bowing as I approached." They had never done that before, and to me it was weird they would treat me such way. It became highly annoying, I had to keep reminding them that they didn't have to do that.

"You are my betrothed, soon you will be the Queen under the mountain. They have recognized you as one of their own, and accepted you as their Queen."

"I've done nothing to prove I'm a good leader, how could they call me such?"

"They first started to admire you when you asked for me to set your people free if you fell. Then you protected us in the Goblin tunnels, and when we were fighting the trolls. Even when you left, you still came back, you showed loyalty. And that's all they can ever ask for, it's all I can ask for." He slipped his arm around my waist pulling me closer to him, that look of adoration now had a permanent place on his features. Yet the small romantic moment came to an end, darkness appeared behind us, an orc pack was not far behind.

"Thorin." The look on my face was obvious, he shouted to the others to get their weapons ready. "This way!" I led them far into the forest, and soon we made our way onto Beorn's land. We ran across the field, the Orcs hot on our heels stop when they hear the creature roaring close by. We rushed to his house with the insanely large bear traveling behind us, quickly I unlocked the door letting everyone in. The creature lunges its head through it, and we all push to close the door. After being slightly injured by the pressure of the gate, Beorn finally moves his head and we manage to shut and lock the entrance.

"What is that?" Ori asked turning to me and the great grey wizard that stood beside me.

"That is our host," Gandalf explained as my focus went to Thorin, who was leaning on the door tiredly. He held his side, I reached forward and pulled away his cloak to see that he was bleeding slightly. "His name is Beorn, he’s a skin-changer. Sometimes he’s a huge black bear, sometimes he’s a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not overly fond of dwarves."

"Come, let me fix your bandage." I let Thorin lean on me slightly, slowly I set him down on a nearby stool as the rest of the dwarves questioned if Beorn's abilities were dark magic or not. As Thorin slipped off his top clothing I grabbed a herb from my homeland that we had given to Beorn which he rarely ever uses. It's more of a 'just in case' necessity, good thing he has it.

"What is that?" Thorin took the red egg-like plant from my hand, examining it.

"It's called Arigonis, the juice inside has healing properties, it's a very rare plant. Well was, but we found a way to grow it, it'll heal your injuries all the way. However it will take time, a hour or so tops so don't scratch at it no matter how much it itches." I brought over a small bowl with water within, kneeling in front of him I took the plant and broke it apart. Using the juice and skin, I made this paste-like substance to put on his injuries. He had already taken his bandages off and discarded them to the side. When I looked up to cover him in the red-like paint, our faces were close, it was hard not to kiss him though I hardly doubt he would mind. I got to work in covering him with the herb, and it didn't take long before he went to scratch at it. "Hey, no don't do that." I slap his hand away playfully, he groans in frustration.

"It itches."

"That's how you know it's working, but if you scratch at it your wound won't heal all the way." He wants to scratch it badly, his fingers dug into his thigh so he wouldn't be tempted. Once I was done covering him in the agitating red paste, I washed my hands before making my way back over to him. I removed his hands from his thighs and made him focus on me. I was nervous, for I had never sang in front of anyone before but I figured it would help. I took a deep breath, keeping my gaze to the floor. "Wind howls in my hair, the world stops when you come this near. Starlight on your skin, the sky sways as you pull me in. And I, I wanna swim in your ocean. I wanna know how to love again, Ooh take me into your arm, sirens call, how fast I fall. Beneath your waves, no storm can take my eyes from you." Everyone turned to me, listening as I sang the song my mother used to hum to me when I was a child. "Crash down to my knees, their fears and hopes flood over me.

Your hand finds my own and shows me that I'm not alone. Now I, I'm diving deep in your ocean, I see the way to redemption, Ooh.

Take me into your arms, sirens call, how fast I fall. Beneath your waves, no storm can take

my eyes from you." All gathered around to listen as I sang the vocals, while others closed their eyes to sleep to the sound.

"Y/n." Thorin rested his hand upon my cheek, making me lean into his touch with a need to feel it. His eyes shined with a lovable glare, for he was stunned at my sudden talent.

"Take me into your arms, sirens call, how fast I fall. Beneath your waves, no storm can take

my eyes from you." (Song called Into Your Arms by Ryan Louder & Serena). Thorin's lips found it's way to mine, the rough skin made me crave more but we can only do so much in front of the others.

"You should sing more often." He gave me a pleading look, I rolled my eyes and retrieved another bandage to wrap around his torso.

"Perhaps I will, but for now you need to rest."

"Sing me to sleep, my Queen?" I kissed his forehead, smiling at his request. His hands landed on my waist pulling me in, but he kept me away just far enough where I wouldn't mess up the paste.

"Anything for you my King."

~♪♠♪~

My arms rested around the dwarven man, his hair tickling my nose slightly. Ever since we had proclaimed our love to each other he's been wanting me to sleep by his side. Which of course I was willing to do, but it made me think. How long would I have a moment like this? Surely the other dwarven kingdoms would want him to marry someone suitable, though maybe I am suitable. Once we get those reports and it's shown to the world that my kin is innocent they wouldn't be able to turn down an alliance with the Queen of the Digonisks.

"You seem deep in thought." Thorin's voice rumbled, a shiver ran down my spine at the sudden vibration.

"Have you been watching me this entire time?" He shifted onto his side, those beautiful blue orbs meeting mine.

"No, but I can tell when your asleep and when your not. And when you think deeply about certain things you tend to frown or smile. Today you did both." His thumb caressed my cheek, a gesture to make sure I was alright. "What is it amralime?"

"After this quest, and my kin goes free, won't your people want you to marry someone suitable?"

"You are suitable, there is evidence that digonisks are innocent. Once the humans and the rest of my people realize their mistake, they'll do anything to make their wrongs a right."

"...What if the scrolls aren't there? What if we never find them, will you still love me?"

"Of course." He seemed hurt that I began to doubt his feelings, a determined look appeared. He leaned forward and pecked my lips, but it soon became a more passionate kiss. Luckily we were in one of the empty stables for privacy, or the others would be grossed out. His arms wrapped tightly around me, I settled on top of him and straddle his waist. His bandages remained on his chest, for I had forgotten to take them off last night yet his wounds should be healed all the way now. With a smirk he flipped us over, his muscular figure now above my own.

"We're gonna get caught."

"Let them see." He goes to kiss me again but a loud fake gag was heard from behind him.

"No don't them see." Kili covered his eyes along with his brother, I gave Thorin an 'I told you so' look. "We came to tell you breakfast has been made." They quickly scurried away, sighing Thorin stood and we headed to the dining room. Everyone is sat at a table being served breakfast by Beorn, whose eyes widened when he saw me.

"Y/n." He nods his head slightly as a greeting, but a frown comes upon his features. "What are you doing here with a bunch of dwarves? Shouldn't you be in-" He stopped talking, for he did not want to give away our hidden home.

"No, I've been helping these men for the past few months. Don't worry Beorn they know, and they've accepted me." I stood in front of Thorin, undoing the white cloth that had been around his torso for far too long.

"If your here then who's running things?"

"Lani, my handmaiden why is there something wrong?"

"I've received word from your people that I must pay tribute for the Arigonis. They want me to cut wood so they can collect it." I stopped, pay tribute? I've never had him pay tribute before and Lani knows that, besides it's not that rare of a plant anymore.

"And if you refuse?"

"They wouldn't supply me with it anymore, and if I continue to refuse they threatened to imprison me. At first, I was angry for I never expected this out of you but seeing you now showed me that you had nothing to do with it." Imprisonment? That was nothing like my kin, what was going on while I was away?

"Who gave the order?"

"Fenris delivered me the scroll explaining how things were going to be handled from now on. Though I don't think it was him." There was no way Lani would take control like this, she was an innocent girl, right? Or was she abusing the power I gave her? Maybe it was a misunderstanding, that's not like her, she can barely ask me for something. "They're coming later to receive my answer, they should be here in a few-" Before he could finish his answer there was pounding on the door, well speak of the devil.

"Thorin wipe off the paste, I'll be back." Angrily I opened the barn door to see Fenris, the commander of my armies who immediately bowed along with the rest of his group.

"My Queen! I did not realize you were here."

"I did not realize someone gave the order to threaten my friend, who ordered that Beorn would have to give up his wood for the herb?"

"Well, you did my Queen." I was taken aback, and I could hear gasps behind me. The dwarves watched as I went from angry to absolutely furious.

"I gave no such command, for I haven't been in contact with anyone for quite some time. Where did you hear about this?"

"Lani showed us the paper you supposedly signed, that anyone we give supplies to must pay tribute in return and if not, they shall be imprisoned or worse...be sentenced to death."

@fili-is-my-lover @kirenia15 @lunariasilver @depressedchilipepper @tschrist1 @ayamenimthiriel @ask-the-elf-stuff

#bilbo x reader #fili and kili #fili x oc #gandalf #kili imagine #the company #the hobbit kili #the hobbit x reader #thorin x reader #bofur the dwarf #kili the dwarf #the hobbit x y/n #thorin fluff #thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield fic

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after-avenging-hours · 4 years

Text

Out of Time [2]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary: After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 5766

Warnings: Major character injury, triaging a wound, blood, stitches, gets a bit feelsy at the end

“Whoa! Hang on!” He doesn’t quite have the strength to keep you standing. But he follows you down as you collapse to make sure you don’t hurt yourself even more. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your body into a frame much smaller than you’re used to.

The gun in your hand clatters to the floor and you then press that hand into your throbbing side.

Steve blanches when he sees the weapon. “Is that yours?” he questions.

You shake your head weakly. “No. It was one of theirs.”

His brows raise in surprise. He knows that dames carrying weapons were more likely to have them taken by their assailants, not the other way around.

You look down at the hand clutched to your side, peeling your palm back to see that it’s completely covered in red. “Shit,” you curse, gritting your teeth. You close your eyes tight and tilt your head back against the brick wall, attempting to will the pain away, so it’s not completely clouding your senses.

Steve follows your line of sight and pales when he sees your blood. “Oh my God… I need to get you to a hospital.”

“No!” Your eyes snap open and you grip the collar of his shirt. “No hospitals,” You urge. You can’t be tied down to a hospital bed and potentially miss your window of opportunity. “I just,” you huff, your head dizzy now from the rapid movement. “Need to get someplace safe.”

“Miss… You’ve been shot. If we don’t get you-”

Your groan of pain cuts him off as you push yourself into a more upright position. “Is there blood on my back?” you question breathlessly.

“Wha-” Steve gapes for a second, before leaning over your body to check. “Yes…” he confirms. “A lot.” He leans back once more the look of concern returning to his eyes tenfold.

“That’s actually a good thing.” You tell him. “Means it’s a clean shot. Through and through. A hospital’s not going to be able to do anything that I can’t do myself with a bit of first aid.”

Steve finds himself only wanting to ask more questions, but he knows if you don’t start applying that first aid quickly, then you really will need a hospital. “My apartment is just around the corner,” he offers without thought.

More likely to run straight into trouble rather than think things through, it doesn’t even cross Steve’s mind that maybe he shouldn’t get mixed up in whatever this is. He grabs the gun, knowing that it wouldn’t be a good idea to just leave it behind. He looks around the alley to make sure there aren’t any other witnesses.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asks, almost wishing Bucky was around to carry you, but he knows Barnes would have his head over this.

You nod once, shifting one arm around his shoulders while removing the one from your side to grip the brick wall for purchase. You mentally count to three before pushing yourself up, Steve trying to do what he can to help. You release a guttural cry of pain with the movement and your vision goes black for a second. You hold still, keeping your grip on Steve and on the wall while you huff for breath.

You wait for your vision to clear and for your head to stop spinning before you give Steve a nod. “Okay. Let’s go.” You bite your lip to keep your whimpers in while you limp along with Steve holding you up.

It’s slow progress to make it down the alley and into a small courtyard area surrounded by apartment buildings. “I’m on the second floor,” Steve gives you an apologetic look when you reach the base of a set of metal stairs.

You release a long breath and grit your teeth before taking them on. Each step feels like an icepick getting jammed into your side. You nearly pass out after reaching the top but managed to keep it together a few more steps to reach his front door.

Steve is immensely grateful that he remembered his key this morning and doesn’t need to fumble around looking for it. The door opens with a push and he quickly shuffles you inside. He helps to lower your body onto the modest brown couch in his living room that Bucky got from him at a yard sale. The cushions are a little stained, no matter how he’s tried to clean them, the pillows are mismatched, and there’s a soft floral perfume scent permanently attached to the thing from the previous owner.

You give yourself a second to catch your breath before you begin pulling your shirt out from where it’s tucked into your skirt and start undoing the buttons. Steve’s eyes widen and his ears turn pink when you completely remove your top. You catch the way that he stares and would laugh if you weren’t in so much pain. You mentally pat yourself on the back for getting the vintage lingerie set for Steve’s birthday a few years ago. It certainly came in handy to keep your whole outfit authentic.

“Do you have clean linen and hot water?” you ask, needing to give him something to do for a quick moment.

He snaps out of it and nods. “Yeah,” he confirms before disappearing deeper into the apartment.

You wait for a second to make sure he’s really gone before hiking up your skirt to unclip the small pouch you have attached to your thigh holster. Opening the pouch, you turn it over to dump the contents onto the couch cushion next to you. A slim metal case, about the size and shape of a smartphone, falls out first, followed by what may appear to be a series of Barbie doll accessories. There’s a tiny red bag with a white cross that you pick out from the items.

Everything else goes back into the pouch before you open the metal case and reveal the series of discs inside. The ones on the left have red in their center, while the ones on the right have blue. You take a blue disc and throw it at the miniature first aid bag, allowing it to grow back to normal size.

“Thank you, Scott Lang,” you mutter under your breath, closing the metal case and returning it to the pouch. You clip the pouch back to your thigh holster and pull your skirt back down.

You have the first aid bag open and are rifling through the various compartments when Steve comes back into the room. He stops short and looks at you with confusion. “…Where did you get that?”

You turn to see him standing in the doorway, a few hand towels draped over his shoulder while he carries a large ceramic bowl. “Oh, that’s perfect.” You indicate for him to bring the items over. Ignoring his question.

Pulling a packet of painkillers from your kit, you rip open the foil and take them dry. You follow that up with a drop of hand sanitizer into your palm and work the liquid gel over your hands and between your fingers. Steve places the bowl of water at your feet and kneels down next to it. You then hand him the bottle of sanitizer.

“What is this?” he questions.

“Isopropyl alcohol mixed with aloe gel. It will disinfect your hands. You just need a small drop.”

“Okay…” he looks a little unsure, but follows your lead and drops some into his palm. He hands the bottle back and mimics your earlier movement to spread the gel. He then drops a towel into the bowl, letting it soak up the water before he wrings it out and folds it into a neat square.

You thank him softly when he hands it to you and you then press it to the wound on your front. “Can you get the exit wound?” you ask.

He nods once, wringing out a second towel and then presses it firmly to your back. He tries his best to keep his focus on the task at hand, despite having your breasts, pretty much at eye level. Before this, the closest he’s ever been to seeing a woman dressed in only a brasserie is the mannequins at Macy’s. What in the world would Bucky think, if he found out there was a half-naked woman in Steve’s apartment right now? The bastard would probably congratulate him, honestly.

“That should be good enough.” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Just clear the dried blood from around the wound.” You’ve gone back to rifling in your kit and pull out a small aerosol canister. The cap comes off with a pop and you quickly aim and spray directly onto the wound at your front. The substance inside comes out as a sort of gel spray, but soon begins to froth and bubble where it makes contact with the wound. “Here,” you give the can to Steve.

He takes it hesitantly. “That looks like it hurts.”

You laugh dryly. “It’s a gunshot wound. It already hurts.”

Can’t argue with that. Steve aims the canister and sprays the mystery substance onto your back wound. You take the canister back, cap it, and put it away. You can already feel the gel beginning to work its magic. Given to you by Shuri during one of your visits with Steve to Wakanda, the gel was a coagulant to stop bleeding, but also could promote cell regeneration to expedite the healing process, and even worked as a numbing agent to dull the pain. It certainly helps when getting to this next part.

“How are you with needles?” you ask, pulling out a curved needle and some stitching thread next.

He gulps audibly before he slowly nods. He and Bucky have had to stitch each other up, more than a few times, but neither of them were surgeons by any means.

Seeing the worry on his face, you try to ease his fears. “It doesn’t need to be perfect, just enough to keep the wound closed. The gel will be able to take care of the rest.”

“Okay,” he agrees, taking the needle and thread from you.

With the gel and the painkillers beginning to take over, you finally have a clear enough head to actually be able to take him in. It’s a little strange seeing him like this in person. You’d seen the photo that gets taken at Camp Lehigh and your Steve had eventually opened up enough to paint his own picture of what his life had been like pre-serum. But you never thought you’d see it with your own eyes.

His clothes hang loose around his frame, nearly engulfing him. The air of stoic confidence you’d grown used to is nowhere to be seen. His shoulders are rigid, back tense, and he almost looks a little uncomfortable to be so close to you. That’s certainly different. The Steve you knew had always been comfortable around you, even from the day you met.

You had been working at the SHIELD Headquarters in New York when Steve’s body was found in the Arctic. You didn’t actually get a chance to meet him at the point, and after the Battle of New York, you were relocated to the other side of the country. Then, after SHIELD fell, you ended up moving overseas. It wasn’t until after the whole Ultron fiasco that you were recruited by Natasha to check out the Avenger’s compound in upstate New York.

You’ll never forget the look on his face when Nat stepped out of the way to introduce you. His eyes had lit up like the sun peeking out behind a cloud and when he smiled your heart had stopped. You’re also pretty sure you may have swooned a little. He shook your hand and held it tight. You remember how he had looked deeply into your eyes like he was seeing into your very soul, and then his gaze flickered all over your face like he was painting your picture in his mind. He then welcomed you to the Avengers, without even giving you an initiation test.

You try to find hints of that Steve in this one. The more you look, the easier they are to find. The eyes are obvious. Highly expressive that he has a hard time concealing his emotions. His brows still furrow the same when he’s trying to concentrate. His ears are still red, which is a good sign. This means he’s not completely unaffected by you.

“My name’s Vic, by the way,” you introduce yourself just as he’s finishing up the stitching on your front wound.

His gaze lifts up to meet yours. “Steve. Though, somehow you already seem to know that.”

You give him a look of confusion, trying to understand what he means, but then you recall saying his name when he first reached you in the alley. You quickly try to come up with an excuse. “I didn’t, actually. You look like someone I know. His name is also Steve,” you try to play off. Badly.

“Huh. Small world.” The corner of his mouth tilts up into the barest hint of a smirk. It’s still enough to make your heart race.

Even 95 pounds soaking wet, you’ve still got it bad for this man.

You hand him a pair of small surgical scissors to cut the thread. While he gets to work on stitching up your exit wound, you grab the supplies you need to finish triaging the front wound. You apply a small amount of disinfectant cream over the stitches before packing it with sterile gauze and taping the gauze to your skin. Steve helps you do the same on your back once he’s finished with the stitches there. After that, you take a long strip of self-adherent bandage tape to completely wrap your torso.

“That should do it. Thanks, Steve,” you send him a smile as you begin to pack up and close your first aid kit.

“Is that standard-issue?” Steve askes, nodding to your kit.

You breathe out a soft laugh. “Not quite,” you respond cryptically. “But a girl’s gotta be prepared.”

He raises a brow. “Do you often find yourself running into men with guns in back alleys?”

You mimic his look. “Do you often find yourself running toward the sound of gunfire rather than away?”

He blinks once, then shrugs, his shoulders relaxing a little. “More often than I should, if Bucky had anything to say about it.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing outright. “This Bucky sounds like he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Maybe you should listen to him more often.”

He scoffs. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

“Trust me when I tell you that getting shot really isn’t high on the list of things I’d consider fun,” you tell him with a grimace.

That sobers him. “No, I imagine it wouldn’t.” He drops his gaze and busies himself by rinsing your blood off his hands with the water in the bowl that has started to turn pink. “So, what does ‘Lady V’ mean?” he asks, the curiosity getting to him.

He looks up and catches the confusion in your eyes before his gaze drops to your chest. You realize he’s talking about the tattoo written in a curling script below your right collar bone, the letters framed on either side by a pair of small wings. Your Steve had actually been the one to design it for you.

“It stands for Lady Victory,” you explain. “It’s my code name.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You’re an agent?” he questions like he can’t believe it. His cheeks then flush as he attempts to backtrack. “I mean- not that you couldn’t be. It’s just you’re so beautiful, you could have been anything. And not that there’s anything wrong with being an agent, it’s just-”

“Steve…” You say his name gently, trying to get him to breathe, while a smile of amusement creeps onto your face.

“Sorry,” he mutters, dropping his gaze once more and releases a long breath. “Just, why go for something that’s so high risk?”

You take a moment to compose your thoughts, trying to figure out how best to answer his question. “We all have things that call to us. Be it duty or a sense of purpose… I don’t know. It just always felt like the right path for me. And believe it or not, looking like just another pretty face can actually be advantageous in this line of work. People will often underestimate you.”

Steve releases a long sigh. “The underestimating part I could handle. Been dealing with that my whole life. But I can’t even get enlisted. They take one look at my medical record and write me off before even giving me a chance. How did you do it?”

You realize where he’s trying to steer the conversation. At this point, he would have already tried to enlist and thus been rejected, four times. “Just because it’s the right path doesn’t mean it’s the easiest. Keep trying. Keep moving forward and eventually, you’ll end up where you’re meant to be.”

He shoots you a wry smile. “You make it sound so simple.”

You huff out a laugh. “Oh, it’s definitely not. But if it were, it wouldn’t be quite as satisfying when you finally succeed.”

He releases a low hum, letting your words sink in. “So, Lady Victory…” he says like he’s tasting the words in his mouth. “Is that where ‘Vic’ comes from?”

“It is,” you confirm.

He nods like he’s pondering over something else. “A guy takes you in off the street, then helps you patch up a bullet wound, and you don’t even give him your real name?”

You can’t help but grin at his cheekiness.

“I mean, Bucky probably won’t even believe the story to begin with.”

That promptly wipes the grin from your face. “Steve, you can’t tell anyone that I was here. Not even Bucky,” you urge desperately. You’re already terrified that there are going to be ramifications from this interaction, you have to try to prevent it from rippling out even further. “I… I should go.”

“Go?” he repeats, startled.

You turn to grab the first aid kit and your blood-soaked shirt, wincing when the movement tugs at your wound. “I’ve already put you in enough danger as is.”

“Do you think those men will come back?”

You shake your head, feeding your arm through the sleeve of the shirt on your injured side, and pull it up onto your shoulder with your good arm. “I don’t know. They might.”

You feel Steve’s hand settle over yours, stopping your movements. You pause and meet his gaze. “Well then, all the more reason you should stay. They won’t find you here and I can’t send you back out there injured and into the night.”

“Steve…” You know you shouldn’t. The longer you stay, the more you’ll risk messing up the timeline. But looking into his eyes, you can’t find the strength to pull away. The image of your Steve laying in the hospital bed looking steps away from death’s door pops into your head. Comparing that to the one in front of you; alive, breathing, vibrant… It makes you want to grab onto him with both hands and never let go.

“Stay,” he repeats once more.

“Okay,” you find yourself breathing the word out without thought.

His eyes soften and his hand gently squeezes yours before he pulls back. “And I promise not to tell anyone about you as long as you give me your real name.”

You huff out a laugh, dropping your head and shoulders. “You’re a sly one, I’ll give you that much.” Lifting your gaze back to his, you tell him your full name.

He grins victoriously and you can feel yourself falling in love with him all over again. He holds his hand out for you to shake. “Steve Rogers.”

You find yourself matching his grin as you place your hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve Rogers.”

Your hands shake once before he pulls back and moves to stand on his feet. “Now, how about I get you something to wear that’s not covered in blood and bullet holes?”

You look down at the shirt you only have half on, your cheeks flushing with heat. “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

He moves deeper into the apartment once more, leaving you alone. You pull your shirt back off and lift it up to take in the damage. It’s pretty bad. Even if you could get the bloodstains out, the two bullet holes didn’t really help matters. Huffing, you toss it into the bowl of water and do the same with the two damp towels, also covered in your blood.

You grunt quietly as you attempt to push yourself up and off the couch. The pain killers may have dulled a majority of the pain, but movement causes a sharp sting to push through. You kneel onto the floor and try to keep your torso as straight as possible as you lift the bowl into your arms and straighten back up. The movement is a bit awkward, but you manage successfully without pulling your stitches.

You follow Steve’s direction to head deeper into the apartment in search of the kitchen. It’s not difficult to find, as the apartment is fairly small. A short hallway separates the living room from the remainder of the apartment, with the hall opening into the kitchen on the left and with the bedroom and bathroom doors on either side to the right. There is light pouring out of the open bedroom door and the sound of Steve rifling through various drawers and his closet.

You turn into the kitchen and set the bowl down into the sink. Tipping out the bloody water, you open the tap from the faucet to fill the bowl once more. There’s a bar of soap on the edge of the sink next to the faucet, which you grab and start rubbing into one of the towels to work up a lather.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve’s voice sounds from behind you.

You glance over your shoulder to see him standing there, some folded, striped pajamas in his hands. “I didn’t want to stain your towels,” you tell him.

He moves in next to you. “I’ll take care of that. You just worry about healing your injury.”

You set down the soap and towel, rinsing your hands clean. There’s a fresh hand towel by the sink, which you use to dry your hands before taking the offered clothing. “Thank you, Steve,” you tell him, holding the clothes to your chest. He nods once, dipping his head to avoid your gaze. He never was any good at accepting gratitude. “Really.” You insist. “I don’t know many people that would take in a complete stranger and help them the way you’ve helped me.”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “Bucky is always telling me that I’m reckless in my pursuit of doing what I think is right.”

Isn’t that the damn truth…

“Besides,” he continues. “You’re also pretty trusting of a complete stranger that offered to take you in.”

Your sweet laughter reminds him of springtime. “I’m a pretty good judge of character,” you tell him, smiling brightly. It lightens your heart to see him relax just a bit more around you. Your fingers fiddle with the fabric of the clothes in your arms. “Well, I should probably go get changed. Thank you, again, for these.”

“Oh, sure,” he sweeps his arm to the side, gesturing for you to walk past. “They’re actually Bucky’s, so I hope they fit okay. I figured my clothes might be too small…”

You catch the slight shift in his demeanor when he brings up one of his biggest insecurities, pre-serum.

Reaching out, you gently touch a curled finger to the underside of his chin. You guide his face back up until he meets your eyes once more. “Chin up, Rogers. You’re looking far too glum for a man that’s got a half-naked woman walking around his apartment.”

You grin teasingly when his whole face goes red. “Oh, I-I didn’t look!” Almost instinctively, his eyes dip down the length of your body, before they widen in horror when he realizes what he’s just done.

You giggle girlishly. “Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.” You then turn and step out of the kitchen to head for the bathroom.

With the door firmly shut and locked behind you, a long breath slips past your lips. “Girl, what are you doing?” you whisper to yourself.

Stepping over to the sink, you muster the courage to look at yourself in the mirror. You look a little worse for wear, but that certainly comes with the territory of getting shot. Your lipstick is smudged and your hair is a mess. You can’t do much about a shower right now with your freshly tended to wound, but hopefully, by the morning, the healing gel will have had enough time to make at least that possible.

Removing your thigh holster, you open the pouch again and use another particle disc to bring your toiletry bag back to size. You run through your night routine as quickly, yet carefully as possible, feeling the tension of the day beginning to weigh on you, and now all you want to do is sleep. With makeup removed and teeth brushed, you manage to track down and extract all the hairpins from your hair. From there, you move on to shedding the remainder of your rumpled uniform, including your stockings and heels. The sight of blood down the back of your skirt makes you grimace when you realize it’s probably gotten onto Steve’s couch, too.

Unhooking the back of your bra is a bit difficult to manage while injured, but eventually, you get it. You slide the garment off, letting it pool to the floor. Checking in the mirror, you find that your undies didn’t make it unscathed either from all the bloodshed. With a sigh, you push them off your hips and down your legs.

You dig through the cupboards and drawers under the sink until you find a clean washcloth. After soaking it and wringing it out, you use the damp cloth to remove the last bit of dried blood from your skin before sliding into the pajamas. God, they’re so vintage. Baby blue and white vertical stripes with a pocket square on the left breast. You make the adjustments you need to feel a little more comfortable in them; rolling the cuffs and pants, and tying the drawstring.

You run both your undies and skirt under the tap, rinsing as much blood as you can out of them, but anything more than that will need to be dealt with in the morning. You fold the skirt in on itself, leaving the dry side out and the damp side in, with your undies tucked inside as well.

You then find a place to hide your toiletries, not wanting to use a particle disc just yet, since you’ll need them in the morning, along with your first aid kit. Gathering your clothes and holster into your arms, you venture out of the bathroom. You can look into Steve’s room from across the hall and find him standing next to his closet, buttoning up the shirt of his own pajamas.

Like a moth to a flame, you find yourself entering the space. His scent hits you and it brings tears to your eyes because he still smells the same. Walking into his room here smells exactly like walking into his room at the compound. It smells like coming home.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, noting the slightly distressed look on your face.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and force a smile. “Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Well, you should lie down, then.” He indicates to the full-sized bed, with a corner of the covers pulled back already.

You move toward it, setting your clothes on the bedside table next to a small lamp and reach out to finger the covers. You turn and take a seat on the mattress. It’s a bit lumpy, but the fatigue is really starting to settle in, so you’re sure it won’t matter.

Steve watches you for a moment before turning to leave the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” you ask.

He stops, turning to you in surprise. “I was going to sleep in the living room,” he states like it’s obvious.

The distressed look comes back to your face. “Will you stay?” you ask, your vulnerability cracking through. Last night, while he lay dying in the infirmary on the other side of the compound, you’d struggled to sleep by yourself in a room that smelled like him. No matter how exhausted you felt, you know you won’t be able to sleep comfortably if you had to do that again.

He looks a little conflicted. “Are you sure?” he questions.

You hold his gaze when you nod.

“Okay…” he relents, though he still sounds unsure.

As he begins to head over, you turn to push the covers back and shuffle toward the other side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” he questions, stopping his movement as he was preparing to walk to the side you’re currently settling into.

“Moving, so you don’t have to sleep by the window,” you respond automatically as you settle under the covers. It’s one of his weird quirks that you’ve grown used to. He’d explained once that before the serum, sleeping near the window would make his asthma worse if there was a slight draft. After the serum though, he still didn’t like it, because he’d grown more sensitive to lights and sound. So, you always took the window side wherever you both slept together.

You pat the empty space of the mattress and grin, “Come on, Steve. I don’t bite. I promise.”

He reaches to turn off the bedside lamp before he slowly lowers himself down onto the mattress, legs tucking under the blanket. He looks like he’s ready to bolt at a moment’s notice as he lays on his back and stares up at the ceiling. You lay on your side, so you won’t irritate the stitches on your front and back while you sleep. You tuck your hands under your pillow and close your eyes.

A few moments of silence pass. “Steve, you’re never going to fall asleep if you keep your muscles tense like that,” you whisper in the dark.

You feel his body shift around slightly beneath the covers. “Sorry… I’ve never done this before,” he admits.

You want to laugh because he’s freaking adorable, but you hold it in. “Turn on your side,” you encourage. He hesitates a moment before complying and turning onto his side to face you. “Close your eyes.” There’s just enough street light coming in from the window to be able to see him. He holds your gaze for a second before his eyes close and he releases a long breath.

You untuck one of your hands and reach up to gently run your fingers through his hair. He tenses up even more with the first touch, but your nails scratch at his scalp in a way that makes him shiver. Your hand slips down the back of his head and curls underneath his ear before you move back up to his forehead and do it again.

The longer you keep doing that, the more the tension eases from his body, until he’s completely relaxed. Just a few more passes of your fingers through his hair and soon his breath evens out as he falls asleep. Your hand curls around the bottom of his ear one more time before your palm settles on the edge of his jaw.

He looks the same when he sleeps here as he does in your time. His features soften, that pinch no longer between his brow and the stern tilt of his mouth eases up. He gains an air of innocence and loses the weight of the world that he carries on his shoulders.

You watch over him for a minute. Memorizing his features before you shift closer. You dip your head down, tucking it beneath his chin to bury your face into his chest and you gently wrap an arm around his waist. He stirs a little but doesn’t awaken.

He feels different, but you’re still able to draw comfort from his closeness. A huge portion of the weight he normally carries has now fallen to your shoulders, and God, are you feeling it. If you fail in getting a sample of the formula, or if you take too long and the components break down before you��re able to get it to Dr. Banner, then these may very well be the last moments you’ll get to share with Steve.

If there’s any hope of salvaging the timeline, you’ll disappear by morning and be nothing but a dream to him. If you forsake the timeline and stay, not only could you mess up your chances of getting the serum, but there will also be the potential for a domino effect to spiral out and shift the entire course of Steve’s future. Could you really risk that just for a few more days of basking in his presence?

On the flip side, do you really have the strength to walk away? Sure, you’re terrified of failing the mission, but you’re even more terrified of losing out on your last few moments together, should you fail. And what if, by some tiny miracle, you could have your cake and eat it too? What if you could succeed and still spend time with him.

If there’s one thing you know for certain… you’re not ready to let him go.

Just as that thought crosses your mind, Steve’s arm curls around your waist, pinning your body against his.

Taking that as a sign, you push all remaining thoughts out and settle comfortably against his chest. You’ll stay till morning and then see how the rest pans out. For now, you’re safe in his arms and you’re going to cherish this as much as possible. With eyes closed and legs tangled, it doesn’t take long for you to join Steve in the realm of sleep.

Part 3

#steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve x reader #skinny steve x reader #40s steve x reader #captain america x reader #out of time

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thatshithurted8 · 4 years

Text

July

Summary: Watching who you thought was the love of your life change into a completely different person because of drugs was heartbreaking, but everyone reaches their breaking point eventually.

Inspired by the song July by Noah Cyrus.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mention of emotional and mental abuse, gas lighting, manipulation and drug use.

It’s to be expected that every relationship has their ups and downs. But during the first year of yours and Rafe’s relationship you two had more ups than downs, which you were extremely grateful for. However, a lot of people had strong opinions about Ward Cameron’s infamous son, Rafe and his actions.

These labels and assumptions about your relationship and boyfriend bothered you at first, but then you came to a realization that no one knows Rafe the way you do and they’re only judging him off of what he portrays to the world.

However, you noticed a shift in your relationship right after your one year anniversary. You don’t know how it started exactly, but you remembered Rafe calling you to pick him up from parties. Of course you obliged, leaving your school work scattered on your desk to be the designated driver for your boyfriend. But when you would pick him up you would notice him sniffling continuously all the while acting differently than he normally does when he’s drunk.

Your suspicions of what your boyfriend was doing finally came to light when you saw Rafe snort a line of coke with your own eyes. This only started a fight and the beginning of the end of your relationship.

I've been holding my breath I've been counting to ten Over something you said I've been holding back tears While you're throwing back beers I'm alone in bed

Friday nights were reserved date nights for you and Rafe. All of yours and Rafe’s friends knew that so you were extremely annoyed when Rafe walked into the living room with a keg while you were setting up the movies you two were going to watch.

“Uh what’s that for?”

“My dad and Rose are out of town for a stupid business thing so I thought we should have a party.” Rafe says, his eyes frantically scanning his surroundings. His eyes were dilated and you could tell that he was already high off of the white substance you despised.

“Aren’t you forgetting that it’s date night?” You ask raising a brow at him.

Rafe simply rolls his eyes. “We do the same shit every date night and it’s not fun anymore. They cause more stress than good.” He says stumbling over his words.

Taken aback from your boyfriends words you set the tv remote on the couch before walking to Rafe’s room with tears in your eyes, leaving the snacks you prepared out on the coffee table. Rafe doesn’t seem phased by you walking away from him, seemingly hurt. Instead he walks into the large kitchen in search for red solo cups.

As the music down stairs boomed throughout the house you laid in Rafe’s bed. His comment earlier was really taking a toll on you even though you knew it was the drugs talking. Even though you tried to ease your racing mind you had to continuously count to ten while taking deep breaths and holding back tears. The chatter of teenagers and music made you want to scream, but instead you stayed put laying motionless in Rafe’s bed that smelt like him.

Rafe snorts another line of the white substance on the coffee table before grabbing the bowl of potato chips that you set out for your movie night. As he stuffs his mouth with the salty snack, laughing at something Kelce said tears finally escaped your eyes.

You know I, I'm afraid of change Guess that's why we stay the same

As you grew up you associated change as a negative thing. It seemed as if every bad thing that has happened in your life was a result of some sort of change. So that was why you liked routine and Rafe was understanding of that.

However, the change within Rafe was slow and unexpected. It crept up on you like a cheetah prowling for their prey. When you finally realized that your relationship with Rafe drastically changed you felt as if it was too late. In reality it wasn’t too late Rafe just made you feel like it was.

So tell me to leave, I'll pack my bags, get on the road Find someone that loves you better than I do, darling, I know 'Cause you remind me every day, I'm not enough, but I still stay

The boy you claimed to love made you feel as if you would never find anyone better than him and that you were always in the wrong, no matter the situation. During your now frequent arguments Rafe would blame you for his drug problem, saying that you were stressing him out and shit.

He would also make you believe that you were the one to change and that you don’t love him anymore. You two have had countless fights about Rafe claiming you don’t love him, resulting in you leaving his house in a hurry to go to yours. Some fights have gotten so out of hand that you wanted to skip town all together.

Despite all of the shit Rafe has put you through you truly believed that you still loved him. And at times you wished and hoped and even craved for the old Rafe. The Rafe before drugs. The Rafe that you only saw. Every now and then that side would come out, making you hopeful that staying with him despite the mental turmoil he has put you through was the right decision.

You so desperately wanted Rafe to go back to the boy you feel in love with. Although he seemingly reminded you every day while he was high as to why you weren’t enough for him and anyone else, you still stayed. You knew you should’ve left a long time ago, but you chased after the glimpses of the old Rafe you would see in between his highs.

Feels like a lifetime Just tryna get by While we're dying inside I've done a lot of things wrong Loving you being one But I can't move on

Every day that went by while you continued to stay with Rafe dragged on and on. He was weighing you down and there was nothing you’d rather do than sleep. Rafe has torn down your self esteem so much that you barely had any left if at all.

When you laid in bed at night after days worth of physically draining work at the charity you volunteered at for your college applications your mind would drift. It would drift and make you question as to what things have you done in your life that were wrong.

You realized that loving Rafe was something you did wrong, which causes you to allow yourself to cry for the first time in weeks. Over the past few weeks you could feel your optimism and happiness deteriorating and it was all thanks to your boyfriend who supposedly loved you.

And once again, despite all of this you still found yourself madly in love with Rafe.

So tell me to leave, I'll pack my bags

At some point everyone eventually reaches their breaking point. The straw that broke the camels back was Rafe failing to show up to your two year anniversary dinner. Instead he opted out to party with his friends and get high on the substance that he loved more than you.

The embarrassment of being stood up by your boyfriend at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town made your skin crawl. You remember the sad glances and whispers you received from the other guests enjoying their meals.

Deciding to go home after an hour and a half of waiting you saw all over snapchat where Rafe was and what he was too busy doing to show up to your anniversary dinner. At that point you didn’t know what you expected. Rafe promised you while he was sober that he was going to come and it was going to be the best date you’ve ever been on. However, you were let down again.

A few days went by and Rafe hasn’t even bothered to text you. He was probably too busy on a bender or getting high while sleeping on Toppers couch.

As you sat in your bed you looked around your room and at the pictures that scattered your walls. The pictures of you and Rafe used to bring you so much happiness, but now you felt nothing. Your eyes continue to scan your baby blue walls and they eventually land on the acceptance letters to the universities you applied to that your mom made you frame.

You were supposed to stay in the Outer Banks and go to the university in the town over. That way you could see Rafe on a daily basis, in fact it was his idea. But that’s not what you wanted anymore. Letting out a huff you start to pack your bags knowing that your decision was going to potentially alter your life forever.

Watching Rafe turn into a different person all the while you tried to help him was draining and heart breaking. Everything you’ve been through the past year has piled up and you were finally done.

It was your time to leave.

Question of the day: Whats your biggest relationship deal breaker and why?

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