#this last part would admittedly be an asshole move | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachdues · 1 year

Note

Heyy, so I was wondering if you could do the "I'm gonna fuck all memory of him out of your head" nsfw for Sanemi? ty and have a great day lovely 🥰

ONLY YOU

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA (NSFW)

PEACH'S 2.K MILESTONE EVENT

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • FWB (maybe toxic?? Idk) • titty slapping • slightly mean Sanemi • creampies • mentions of toxic cheating ex-bf • getting folded in half like a lawn chair • I think I blacked out while writing this • not proofread in the slightest

“I told you when we started this not to expect anything from me,” you were surprised at the way your voice remained calm and steady, even though internally, you felt anything but. “You’ve no right to get jealous over me going to see him.”

Him being your ex-boyfriend, whose apartment you’d just left after spending the night. You knew it was a mistake; you’d known it the second you let the asshole lay you down on his couch and felt the hard press of his cock against your upper thigh as he kissed you with those lips that were so warm and familiar.

Your intentions had been pure when you’d gone over there to collect the last few of your belongings that neither of you had realized he’d still had until a good three months after your breakup. But then he’d offered you a glass of wine, and the two of you sat on his soft, plush sofa — the sofa that used to be yours, just like that apartment; just like him — and got to reminiscing about old times. And then he’d looked at you with those eyes, so sad and so full of regret at the way he’d thrown a three-year long relationship out the window like garbage for the sake of some one-night stand on a work trip with a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember, and you’d caved.

Because really, it felt nice to pretend like nothing had changed, and that he would rock your world and then order Chinese food so the two of you could cuddle and watch some dumb movie while you ate; just like old times.

But everything had changed, and that apparently included your post-sex ritual of takeout and TV, because the moment he’d finished spurting his pleasure onto the curve of your ass, he’d tossed you your discarded shirt and said he’d see you around.

You tried to pretend like the fact he’d used you for a quick fuck hadn’t stung, but you’d walked out of your old apartment still feeling a little bruised.

But you sure as fuck weren’t about to let the quietly fuming, white haired, abrasive, jackass standing in your new living room make you feel worse than you already did; no chance in hell.

Said jackass was really your long-time friend, Sanemi, who, for the past three months, had been at your disposal as you sought to satisfy your urge to be fucked absolutely senseless on a regular basis. The two of you had been friends since college, and had spent the better part of your adulthood ignoring the sexual tension which mounted between you the more time you spent together, huddled away in the dingy corners of your university’s library to study, or late night dining hall runs when neither of you could sleep.

You’d kept in touch for a time, even after you started dating your ex, but admittedly, you hadn’t been the most exemplary friend to the hothead with the heart of gold.

But then, you’d found yourself single and alone in a brand new apartment with nothing but a pile of moving boxes full of memories youndidnt want to revisit and a mattress on the floor. So instead of unpacking, you choose to reach for your phone to shoot a text to your old college friend.

Sanemi agreed to meet up for coffee within minutes of you messaging him. Within a matter of hours, you found yourself back at your new home, face pressed down into your mattress and your ass in the air as you let yourself forget that there was a world beyond the feeling of Sanemi’s cock ramming into your desperate, sopping core.

Only after you’d been thoroughly filled by his cock and cum were you able to form a coherent thought, and so, you’d propositioned him with an offer for a friends with benefits situation — on the sole condition that no one caught feelings.

Sanemi hadn’t hesitated in agreeing, sealing the deal with a rough yet intoxicating kiss as he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders and took you again until you passed out from exhaustion.

Things had been running smoothly, with both of you holding up your end of the bargain — until a few weeks ago, when you’d casually mentioned that you were texting your ex again and Sanemi’s mood had soured considerably.

Not that his apparent jealousy had tempered him when it came time to reduce you to a sobbing, trembling mess beneath him — if anything, he seemed more committed to blowing your mind and back each time the two of you met up.

But you’d blown him off in favor of going to your ex’s only to end up leaving feeling emptier than ever. Only now, you somehow felt lower because beneath the judgmental irritation in his pretty, lavender eyes, Sanemi looked hurt.

“I don’t,” he said tightly, his arms folded tightly across his chest, those mouthwatering biceps rippling slightly. “I just don’t like getting ghosted without so much as a courtesy text.”

You winced, realizing that, in your haste to see your ex, you’d indeed forgotten to tell Sanemi not to bother stopping by. But you were feeling vulnerable and truthfully, you just wanted him to stop looking at you like a kicked puppy. Because, though it pained you to admit it, it broke your heart a little.

Perhaps Sanemi wasn’t the only one who was catching feelings.

But you weren’t about to admit any of that, and so you only mirrored his stance, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out, cocking your head at him. “Oh yeah? Then you won’t mind if your services aren’t needed tonight?” Guilt settled heavy in your gut like a stone as Sanemi deflated slightly at your jab.

That guilt wasn’t enough for you to resist taunting him a bit. “Because I’ve had all about I can handle for the day,”

Sanemi took the bait.

“I find that hard to believe,” he scoffed, his eyes running sensually over you as you stood there, defiantly glaring at him. “‘Cuz you’re not satisfied until you’re damn near passed out,”

He sauntered over to you until the heat rippling off his body threatened to burn you, too. A jolt of electricity shot down your spine as he leaned in close, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispered, “And babydoll, you’re still standing.”

Without warning, Sanemi’s arm shot out and wound around your waist, hauling you flush against him, your noses nearly bumping together. Your eyes fluttered shut at the gentle caress of his warm breath against your lips, awaiting one of his needy, bruising kisses of which you often found yourself daydreaming about.

But a kiss did not come; rather, Sanemi only spoke a promise that sent chills rippling over your skin and unleashed a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

“I’m going to fuck all memory of him right outta your pretty little head.”

Unsurprisingly, Sanemi made good on his word; for not twenty minutes later, you found yourself draped over the back of your sofa, the silvery-blonde fucking you so deeply, you weren’t sure you even remembered your own name, even if you somehow still knew his.

The edge of your couch dug uncomfortably into the small of your back, and idly you wondered whether the force with which Sanemi was pounding into you would cause your spine to snap clean in half. If it did, you probably wouldn’t care; not when Sanemi had one of your legs lay flush against his torso, and the other wrapped tightly around his hips to desperately clinging on for dear life as his cock bullied in and out of your dripping cunt.

A warm, calloused hand teasingly traced up your stomach until it came to your breast, squeezing harshly as Sanemi savored how it jiggled beneath his palm with every bruising thrust of his hips against yours. Your eyes rolled back as Sanemi slapped the plush mound lightly around your nipple, a breathy moan falling from your lips as your walls clenched tighter around him.

“Fuck baby, you like that?” Sanemi’s gravelly voice called you back down to earth as his hand repeated the action on your other tit, a whine tearing from your throat. He chuckled at the way your cunt grew sloppier with every repeated smack against your chest. “Naughty girl.”

Sanemi’s lips latched around your stiffened nipple as his hand rose to pinch and roll the other between his fingers, the pace of his hips never faltering. “Tell me — fuck — sweetheart,” he ground out against your skin. “Did he make your pussy this fucking sloppy?”

As though to emphasize his point, Sanemi swiveled his hips harshly against yours, repeating the move over and over until your living room was filled with nothing but the sounds of your whimpers and the lewd squelching of your cunt.

“N-no,” you managed to stammer out, fingers digging harshly into his hair as Sanemi’s mouth sloppily danced to the valley between your breasts. He seemed please with this answer, as his other hand worked between your sweat-slicked bodies to work furiously at your clit.

“That’s right,” he growled. Sanemi pulled off you in favor of standing up, his cock reaching a spot even deeper within you as his thrusts grew sloppy. His grunts began to be tempered by a slight whine as he drew closer and closer to his climax, his thumb rubbing steady circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs.

With a slight graze of his nail against your clit, you came apart around him with a scream, back arching impossibly higher as you howled his name. Sanemi rode you through the waves of your pleasure, the heavy smack of his balls against the underside of your ass guiding you back down to reality as you realized you still weren’t satisfied — you wouldn’t be, not until you felt him spill inside you only for him to fuck his seed right back into you.

“Sanemi,” you whined, your hands grabbing blindly for him, desperate to bring him closer.

Sanemi chuckled under his breath. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m gonna give it to you.”

His hands were surprisingly gentle as it lowered the leg you had hooked over his shoulder and unlatched the other from around his waist. He tugged you forward slightly over the edge of the couch, bending your legs at the knees and pressing them back against your sides.

He was buried deep within you now, the new angle allowing the blunt tip of his cock to press against that one spot that made your toes curl, again and again. As your whimpers devolved into cries of overstimulated pleasure, Sanemi leaned down close to your face, his lips teasingly grazing yours as his pace quickened.

“And did you let him cum in your sweet little pussy, baby?” The look in his eyes almost would have been cruel, but it was undercut by the faintest trace of insecurity. “Do I have to fuck that out of you, too?”

But you were so lost in the post-orgasm haze that you did not answer; at least, not until Sanemi slowed the relentless pistoning of his cock into your spent cunt, and the resulting friction became intolerable.

“I asked you a question, princess.” Sanemi said mockingly, ducking his head to graze your throat with his lips, before giving a mighty thrust of his hips, as you cried out. “Answer me. Did he cum in you?”

“N-no!” Your answer was choked off with a hitched gasp as Sanemi resumed his previous pace, intent on reaching his end and giving you what you both wanted — your cunt, stuffed to the brim with him.

“Only you, Sanemi,” you blubbered, tears of pleasure and pain gathering in your eyes as your arms tightened around his shoulders, clinging onto him like he was salvation’s incarnate. “Only you get to cum in this pussy!”

Sanemi’s groans turned to low growls as his hips snapped against yours, the coil in his gut tightening as you continued to babble, only you only you only you only -

#🍑’s 2k milestone event #demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #hashira au #hashira fic #kny fic #demon slayer fic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

AITA for being in a shared apartment too much?

🏠✨to find this again.

I (27F) have lived in an apartment (2 bed 1 bath) with the same roommate (26F) for 3.5 years. Let’s call her Jane. We’ve always gotten along well and have been (from my perspective, anyway) compatible roommates. For the past year, however, Jane has been increasingly unhappy about me being in our apartment at the same time as her. She’ll either leave the apartment just before or just after I get home, or hole up in her room, or stay out late until she thinks I’ll be asleep, or just be noticeably bummed about me being around.

We’ve talked about it once, and her response was essentially “it’s not you, it’s me”—that she just likes time to have the apartment to herself and putter around, especially after traveling or being out of town. (She will usually avoid me for about five days after coming back from a trip.) She also said that me staying in my room and out of the common areas during certain times is not enough—I need to be out of the apartment entirely. Last summer, we agreed that I would be out of the apartment from 11am-3pm on Sundays so that she has that guaranteed alone time in the apartment in addition to the other times I’m out of the apartment for work or meeting up with friends. She hasn’t told me explicitly, but this seems to not be enough.

Points of note:

- We are both graduate students with fairly flexible schedules. We’re on campus a minimum of 3-4 hours 2 or 3 days a week to teach and are usually on campus additional days for meetings or events—but (technically speaking) our job is to research and write. We’re not typically “at the office” from 9–5.

- I work from home as often as I can. When I’m not on campus to teach or attend an event, I’ll typically just come back home. We don’t get paid much, so I like to be home for meals to avoid buying lunch or paying for a coffee in order to work at a cafe. So, admittedly, I am often at the apartment for most of the day.

- For my part, I don’t mind Jane being in the apartment at the same time as me, and I honestly miss being able to chat with her during our breaks from work or study. So this is not really a mutual dislike.

- Jane is not doing anything nefarious in the apartment while I’m gone (it’s small enough that I would know if she was cooking meth or something lmao). She just genuinely wants to be alone to hang out in the apartment.

- I don’t typically hang out in the common areas for work or play, and I don’t leave my own stuff there. When I’m at home I tend to stay in my room, except when cooking.

- I have made no major life changes during the time she began to dislike having me in the apartment. Whenever I ask her if there’s any particular behavior I could change, she says there isn’t. During this same span of time, however, Jane has been under increased stress due to academic deadlines and some extra jobs, which is probably a contributing factor.

I’m graduating next spring and plan to move to live with my partner in a different city—so the problem is solved in the long term. But I’m curious whether I’m missing some key roommate etiquette.

Is it an asshole move to spend most of my time in a shared apartment?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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pollymorgan · 2 months

Text

Ex-husband Negan Part 5

Warnings: An asshole named Negan and a woman who can't get over him.

Luckily, nothing serious happened to David, except maybe the scare of his life. Negan really pulled himself together. Maybe he has finally become sensible. I had actually given up hope.

When my daughters miraculously went to school on time and Negan left the house with them, I took a deep breath.

What had happened in the last few hours?

I really feel that as soon as my ex-husband is near me for longer than five minutes, he throws my whole life into absolute chaos.

Inevitably, I had to think about the last night and my pulse immediately accelerated. It was just madness. This man still knows my body better than I do. No one can touch me the way he does. Instantly, I felt that tingling in my stomach again. That damn feeling that has often led me into misery.

19 years ago

Even though I had left my old home eight years ago to build my own life in New York, I kept in touch with my best friend Harper. Harper and I spent our entire school years together, and our connection never broke despite the distance. We used to be a trio, but Scarlet unfortunately became one of the main reasons why I had moved away so hastily.

God, I was so stupid back then not to recognize the signs and always make excuses for Negan and her. But sometimes you are so blinded that you only realize it when you see it with your own eyes.

The fact that Harper has been dating Negan's best friend Simon for a few years was, admittedly, really strange for me at first. After all, I tried with all my might to erase Negan from my life, but by now we had been separated for ages and the anger had subsided over the years. The anger, yes, but unfortunately not all the other feelings I felt towards him. If I was honest with myself, I immediately compared every new man in my life to him. Even though I didn't want to, I thought so often about our time together. Everything reminded me of him, even though I lived in a completely different city, but you can't run away from feelings.

Whenever Harper happened to mention something about Simon and Negan during our hours-long phone calls, I immediately became quiet and absorbed every piece of information. Of course, I never asked directly, my pride was too great for that, but it seemed that this guy would remain my weakness forever.

This is also how it came about that Harper invited me to her birthday. I was very excited for the house party at her place and took a few days off to fly to my old city.

After we were both incredibly excited on the phone that I would be able to follow her invitation, Harper suddenly became quite serious at the other end.

"Negan will be there too..." she said calmly.

Immediately I was speechless. Why would he show up there? After all, it's my best friend's birthday, not Simon's. I cleared my throat briefly, but then I absolutely did not want to spoil their, or my, mood.

"Yes, of course... it's totally okay! I'm looking forward to seeing him again after so long... Oh man, we were teenagers and now you're already 28, you old hag..." I joked, even though I didn't feel like joking at all, thinking about my ex-boyfriend who had broken my heart in such a brutal way.

"Yes, yes ..first get to my age! At 27, you still talk so easily." Harper countered.

Until the day of the party, I managed to push the thought of seeing Negan again out of my mind. However, when I rang her doorbell, the nervousness crept up on me. Is he already there? How will he react to me? And how will I react to him? Does he still think about me sometimes? Does he even miss me occasionally?

When Harper greeted me with the words that I was the first guest, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Of course, postponed is not canceled, but in that moment I felt a strange relief.

We embraced joyfully and I congratulated her from the bottom of my heart. Then I handed her a bottle of her favorite Prosecco and a self-made voucher for a weekend in New York. She had wanted to visit me so many times, but the plans always failed and in the end, I was always the one who visited.

The greeting with Simon was a strange mix of a handshake and a hug, so I was glad when Harper asked me if I could help her in the kitchen.

It was my first visit to the two of them since they had moved into a shared apartment. The whole thing was really strange for me, everything seemed so adult, almost bourgeois. Not at all like I knew her. Okay, we had grown up, but somehow time seemed to have stood still for me. Since I went to New York at the age of 19, not much had changed in my lifestyle. Except that I had a steady job and earned my own money.

Harper's kitchen was full of modern appliances, while at home, I was happy if I could find a sharp knife.

But before we started preparing the rest of the food, Harper opened us two beers and within seconds, everything was just like old times. We joked and laughed about the most trivial things, and soon the first guests arrived. The doorbell kept ringing, and then Simon opened the door to let the next ones in. People would then show up in the kitchen after a few seconds, congratulating my friend on her birthday. Some of them I knew from before, while others were new acquaintances, mainly her coworkers. Mentally, I tried to match the names to the stories that Harper had told me during one of our phone conversations.

Superficially, I played it cool, but inside, I was boiling. A thousand times, I played in my mind how I would react if Negan walked in through the door. I kept envisioning that one scene that made me startle every time the doorbell rang.

I opened another beer and then helped Harper set up the buffet. The salads were piling up, she had prepared so much. Everything was planned down to the smallest detail. The color scheme of the decor matched, and the dishes were all from the same brand.

With my arms crossed on my hips, I admired everything. "Wow, I have to say, you've really become the perfect housewife, while I..."

"While you still have the hottest ass in all of America... Damn, just look at her. God bless America!" a very familiar voice interrupted me.

Amidst all the commotion around us, I hadn't even noticed that Negan had entered the kitchen. Being surprised by his presence made it even harder. I took a deep breath and then turned with a smile on my face to face him.

He was already so close to me that there was barely any space between us, and his face put on that typical grin. I hadn't seen him in so long, but his green-brown eyes looked familiar to me. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss on my cheek.

I literally inhaled his scent, a mixture of rugged aftershave, cigarette smoke, and his own unique scent. Instead of letting go immediately, he held me much longer than necessary, and I was frozen in his arms.

"It feels unbelievably great to finally feel you so close again..." he whispered in my ear, and I immediately got goosebumps all over my body.

None of the prepared lines came out of my mouth.

He hadn't forgotten how to charm me, if anything, he seemed to have perfected it.

I stared at him wordlessly until he suddenly leaned in even more. Bewildered, I evaded him, and he grabbed one of the beer bottles that were right behind me.

Amused by my reaction, he winked at me and clinked his bottle against mine. Then he disappeared into the living room. Suddenly, a former classmate approached me and hugged me to greet me. She immediately started talking a mile a minute, but I couldn't follow her words as I kept thinking about the recent situation with Negan.

Some time passed before we all decided to move to the living room. Negan and Simon were standing by the window, smoking a cigarette. I tried my best not to stare at him constantly, but I caught myself doing it repeatedly.

Harper introduced me to Daniel, one of her coworkers. The three of us sat down with a few others at the living room table. The conversation was already in full swing, so it was easy for me to just join in.

I was in the middle of telling the others about the most unique restaurants in New York when I suddenly felt someone sit next to me on the couch. Without looking, I could tell it was Negan. Immediately, my heart rate increased, but I tried not to show it and continued talking.

Negan started a conversation with Daniel, who was still sitting next to me, so I leaned further forward so they could talk better. Negan leaned even closer behind my back to his conversation partner, and suddenly, I felt his hand on my hip. A bolt of electricity shot through my body, but I tried not to show it. As if that wasn't enough, my t-shirt had ridden up slightly in this position, and Negan began gently stroking the bare skin of my back with his thumb. God, how I had missed this feeling. I pushed all doubts aside and just focused on his tender touch and what it was doing to me.

It was only when I heard my name that I was snapped out of my trance.

"What?" I asked, startled, looking at Negan, who straight ened and then smiled knowingly at me.

"The beer at Dawson's is a disaster..." he laughed.

I leaned back against the couch and then looked at Daniel.

"Oh yes, terrible... gave me the hangover of my life," I tried to somehow join the conversation.

"That was probably more about the quantity than the quality..." Negan noted amusedly and reached for my thigh. His hand stayed there for the next while, until I loudly declared that I needed to visit the restroom and disappeared there.

Upon reaching the bathroom, I straightened up in front of the mirror and looked at my reflection questioningly. Where was all of this leading? I didn't have an answer.

As soon as I opened the door to go back, Negan was standing right in front of me. Lost in my thoughts, I bumped into him.

"Hey... not so hasty! Is it already midnight, or why are you in such a hurry, Cinderella?" he said, holding my upper arms.

"Would you search for me if I lost my shoe?" I asked, looking at him inquisitively.

"I may not be a damn prince, but fuck, honey. I would turn the whole world upside down to find you..." he replied.

I'm not sure if I was the one who took a step back, or if he led me back to the bathroom, but suddenly we were there. Negan closed the door behind him and locked it, not taking his eyes off me.

"And what would you do when you find me?" I asked innocently, nervously biting my lower lip.

Negan pulled me towards him abruptly and kissed me just as passionately.

"Exactly this..." he whispered into my open mouth before our tongues touched. In that kiss lay all the desire and the incredible longing that had been dormant in me for the past years. I clutched onto the hair at the back of his head as if I never wanted to let go.

Slowly, my mouth traveled along his jaw, his beard pleasantly scratching my lips, and when I touched his neck, I felt his Adam's apple slightly vibrate.

"I was such a damn idiot..." he now whispered softly.

"Oh yes, you were... I think now would be the right time to make things right..." I said, as I was already undoing the belt of his pants.

Negan grinned at me, "If we stay in here any longer, everyone outside will know what we've been up to in here."

"Very good..." I said with a smile and was about to kneel down, but he stopped me.

"Stop, we don't have time for that now..." as he said that, he turned me around so that my back was to him, then crossed his arms in front of me and pulled me close to him. The feeling of his strong body made me even more unrestrained.

"Baby, believe me, I'll do anything you want, but first, I just need to feel your sweet pussy around my cock... I've missed you so incredibly much..." he growled in a deep voice directly into my ear and pushed me towards the washing machine, until I eventually leaned against it.

The lower arm of his left arm landed on my back and gently pushed my upper body down. While holding me in this position, with his right hand, he pulled down my jeans and underwear, and I excitedly helped him until they were hanging around my knees, presenting Negan with my naked behind. His hand traveled up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and I spread my legs as much as I could. Then his flat hand landed directly on my center. Gently, he ran his fingers through my folds, and just the feeling made me moan.

"Please, I need your cock..." I pleaded.

With the hand that had just touched my most intimate area, he gave me a light spank on the behind.

"And let no one say dreams don't come true..." Negan exclaimed enthusiastically.

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writershapeholeonthedoor · 11 months

Text

Into you

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Summary: A quiet day at home with the person that consumes your every breath.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language.

MASTERLIST

You were staring down at the slightly slimy grey goo inside the bowl when you felt a pair of slim arms curled around your waist. You felt a warm body pressing behind yours, soft curves molding against your back and a hot breath hitting the side of your neck, all of those things causing a shiver to run down your body. You hadn’t heard your companion move from where she had been sitting by the table where she was trying to put a large puzzle together, something you blamed your growing frustration for.

In normal conditions, you would be acutely aware of every move your girlfriend made - you liked to use a metaphor for it saying you were like magnets moving around each other. When you were feeling particularly romantic, you would say she was like the sun and you were one of the planets orbiting around her.

In reality, she just made too much noise when she moved, although the less romantic explanation would be kept mostly to yourself.

“What’s going on?” You heard the sulky voice just behind your ear. “I can feel your annoyance from across the room.”

You sighed heavily, allowing your body to rest back against her as the hand that wasn’t holding the wooden spoon moved to rest on top of one of the hands on your stomach. Elizabeth, always the caring girlfriend, pressed a kiss at the shell of your ear, gently swaying your bodies together. You almost wished it wasn’t winter so there would be fewer layers of clothes between you two - you loved how touchy Elizabeth could get sometimes.

“Does it look right to you?” You asked, pointedly pointing the spoon at the bowl when your scowl returned full force.

Elizabeth peeked over your shoulder even if you were sure she had already seen what was inside the metal bowl before she returned to her previous position. “What’s this?” She asked instead of answering, although the fact that she couldn’t even understand what it was already answered the question.

“What does it look like?” You decided to ask instead, making your conversation purely out of questions until now.

Elizabeth seemed to pick on the same detail because she snorted a giggle. Upon hearing another sigh coming from you, she reached out with one arm to pick up the bowl to raise it closer to her. Admittedly, it looked even worse that close, but you kept yourself from saying that out loud. There was no need to state the obvious.

“Hm,” Elizabeth hummed softly and with a hint of humor, a small grin fighting to turn the corner of her lips up, something you could see from the corner of your eyes. It almost made you smile as well, albeit the frustration stopped you from doing so. You had never been good with baking, you honestly didn’t know why you thought it would suddenly change. “Is my girlfriend grouting the walls for fun?”

Her reply was met by a quick slap to the back of her hand still resting on your stomach while you rolled your eyes. “Asshole,” you accused above the chuckle Elizabeth let out. She put the bowl back down, quickly wrapping her arm around you again as she kissed your cheek and took a deep breath of your smell, and it was enough for you to forgive her. “I was trying to make cookies,” you explained at last.

For her part, Elizabeth managed to hold a laugh that clearly tried to escape. Instead, she took a step to the side, letting one arm slip off you while the other kept you close by your waist, and grabbed the spoon from your hand to poke at the thing inside the bowl. You both watched as it clung to the wood as if it was alive and trying to leave the bowl, before Elizabeth put the spoon back inside the bowl and the entire thing just stopped moving suddenly.

You wondered if you had just created the real version of Venom or something equally terrifying.

“I think we might need to start over,” Elizabeth commented in a calm voice despite the fact that your frustration had risen again.

You turned your head to her the best you could without slipping from her embrace. You arched one eyebrow and put both hands on the counter in front of you. “If you help me, it kind of defeats the purpose of me trying to do something nice for you,” you joked lightly before your eyes fell to the bowl again. “Of course, I’m assuming you think food poisoning is something nice.”

Elizabeth laughed and kissed your cheek again. This time, she finally untangled herself from you so she would have both hands free to throw the bowl’s contents in the garbage. “I think it’s the thought that counts, love.”

“It better, because that’s all you’re getting.” You sighed, though the frustration was finally subsiding. You could hardly feel anything but happiness when your girlfriend was around.

Elizabeth had moved to wash the bowl in the sink, so she looked over her shoulder at you to throw a smile your way. “Why did you decide to do something nice for me, after all?”

You shrugged. “You don’t have a free day very often,” you explained. “I wanted you to rest, eat something nice, have fun with your things. I thought cookies were easy enough.”

Isn’t wasn’t a lie. Elizabeth didn’t have enough days off, if someone were to ask you, albeit you thought it was just the downfall of dating a Marvel actress. She overworked herself, she was always either inside a plane or inside a studio, and it worried you. Since you started dating, almost a year ago, Elizabeth has tried to spend more time at home even if you didn’t share a house yet, but that wasn’t the reason why you tried to push her to rest more. You cared for her health.

Which is why, on one of her rare days off, you were trying to do something nice for her. You had stayed the night at her place so you would be there first thing in the morning to spend the day with her - to fully take advantage of that blissful and unusual situation - and you had an entire plan inside your head to make her sit down and relax. Perhaps you should have realized that trying to cook would be a terrible idea, though.

“Where’s the recipe you were using?” Elizabeth’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, straight away making you confused.

“Recipe?” You frowned.

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip with enough force to turn it white, clearly suppressing a laugh mostly to your benefit. You appreciated it. You watched as Elizabeth carefully washed and dried the bowl, already feeling more at ease being in the kitchen when your girlfriend was there to help you out.

Although you wanted to make something for her, you couldn’t deny that spending that time with Elizabeth was much more rewarding.

“I’m surprised you didn’t blow off my kitchen,” Elizabeth teased you while playing with the bowl between her hands before putting it down on the counter.

You rolled your eyes - not without tenderness. “I don’t need your help, you know?” You stood beside her and pushed her lightly with your shoulder to show off your joke.

“Okay, I will let you do it then.” The other woman shrugged.

Throwing her a fake look of annoyance, you huffed and quickly shoved the wooden spoon into her hands. “I didn’t say that.”

Elizabeth laughed and, once again, her arm curled around your waist so she could get closer and kiss your cheek. “Let’s just look for a recipe then, okay?” She suggested and you sighed while taking your phone out of your pocket. Elizabeth didn’t walk around with her cell phone like everyone else. You wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t even know where the device was inside her own house. You unlocked your phone and handed it to Elizabeth so she could try to find a recipe for you both to follow. “Baking is a very precise science,” she commented with humor after taking her arm from around you to type.

You hummed from the back of your throat as you pressed your body against her side. You placed your hands on Elizabeth’s shoulder for support, then rested your chin there so you could look over while she looked over a website. “I was always more into literature,” came your reply addressing your long-gone days at school.

“And you’re talking with the theater kid,” Elizabeth chuckled with you and you both stayed in silence for a while until she tried to find something easy enough for you to bake. “Chocolate chips or ginger?”

You didn’t have to think twice. “Chocolate.”

“Here we go then.” Elizabeth handed you back your phone so you could take a look at the recipe she chose. It was a simple chocolate chip cookie recipe, which you had thought you could put together without any assistance.

“Oh.”

She turned her head to look at you since you had taken a step to the side to read over the words. “What?”

“That’s the right amount of eggs?” You mumbled under your breath, furrowing your brows and scowling to your phone.

There was a pause before your girlfriend spoke again and, when she did, you could hear the laugh in her voice. “I don’t think I want to know how many you used before.”

You threw her a look. “Enough to say you need to run to the market soon.” Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head at you. At least she found that amusing, you thought. You glanced down at your phone again. “And enough to think this recipe is lying.”

“Do you remember how it looked before?” Elizabeth retorted with a smirk and a playfully pointed finger at the garbage bin.

“Fine.” You sighed and rolled your eyes while putting your phone down supported by a cup so you could read it more easily. “We will follow the recipe.”

You turned around to pick up the eggs the recipe called for while Elizabeth went through her cupboards to find more chocolate chips. You grabbed the butter as well, putting it beside the bowl, and then tried to measure with your eyes if there was still enough brown sugar or if you would need to find another package of that. When Elizabeth returned to your side, you were glaring at the sugar as if it were a difficult math equation.

“You know, that’s the reason I’m not into baking,” your girlfriend declared after putting a measuring cup in front of you. When you glanced up, she was smiling down at you in that way that made your heart flutter. “There’s not much room to try things out,” she kept saying once she moved to put the ingredients inside the bowl. “I enjoy cooking because not much can go wrong if I decide to just throw something inside the pan.”

You nodded, knowing for a fact that Elizabeth’s love for the kitchen was one of the things that kept her content. Elizabeth loved cooking, she loved trying out new dishes, make some experiments, cook things from other cultures just to test it out. And you honestly loved being there for all of it. Your very second date had been planned out by Elizabeth, who cooked you a three-course meal that was easily one of the best things you ever tasted. Ever since, you were on board with anything she wanted to feed you, really. You also loved being in the kitchen while she cooked too. Elizabeth only looked more at peace when she was tending to her garden, but for that you liked to leave her be.

Elizabeth enjoyed the silence when she took care of her beloved plants and, to be fair, you didn’t find it too exciting. Instead, you would bring her some lemonade to drink when she was working in her garden and would offer to water her plants when Elizabeth was traveling - though she still had to take up on your offer since it seemed like your girlfriend didn’t entirely trust you not to kill anything by accident, which you thought was pretty fair.

You both had hobbies that the two of you could enjoy together - eating is just one thing you both loved - but baking wasn’t about to become one of them, apparently, since you didn’t seem to have the patience to follow the recipe and Elizabeth didn’t find it so thrilling.

“My mother used to make bread when I was a kid, but my dad did the cooking,” you told her while you waited to throw some flour inside the bowl. “I think you would like his food.”

Elizabeth smiled at it before glancing at you quickly. “When I’m going to meet them?”

You should’ve seen the question come, though it was made with a hint of humor to it because that had been a discussion you had before. Not a discussion per se since you never fought over it, but something you had talked about before. Your parents lived far away and you had your work to worry about, as did they. You couldn’t just take a few days off to go see them, and neither you had that amount of money lingering around.

Sure, Elizabeth had offered to pay for everything - insisted even - but you didn’t want to take her money like that. It would give reasons for the people on the internet to say you were with her only for her name and money, something you were sure she knew wasn’t true, but that didn’t make it any easy to hear those types of things. Besides, the holidays were just around the corner and you were sure you would be able to slip from your work for a week to spend time with your family. Elizabeth promised that, if you managed to do that and if you wanted her to, of course, she would do whatever it took to be able to travel with you. That showed you just how committed she was to your relationship, something you couldn’t help but find endearing.

“Soon,” you ended up saying with a gentle and hopeful voice. You would have enough money until then and you wouldn’t like anything more than to take your girlfriend with you to finally meet your family.

“Just asking,” Elizabeth explained with a shrug and a smile. “You already know all of my family.”

“Not entirely fair since the entire world knows your family,” you replied while poking her side playfully, earning a giggle from Elizabeth.

“Still.” She tried to hide her grin by looking down at the bowl, but you could still see it, which made you roll your eyes at her teasing.

“I’m not keeping you away, I’m just making sure my family can behave themselves.” The confession was made as you poured some chocolate chips inside the bowl. The recipe was asking for half of the amount you put, but chocolate could never be too much.

“Why?” Elizabeth asked, looking down at the cookie dough as she waited to mix it again. “Are you scared they might show me your childhood pics? Mine are all over the internet, it’s not fair.”

“No, I just don’t want them to scare you away.” You put the chocolate away, but not before leaning over to kiss your girlfriend’s cheek.

“If your cooking didn’t…” Elizabeth trailed off jokingly and you gasped at her.

“Jerk,” you accused, though it became clear you didn’t mean it when a laugh escaped your lips.

She joined you and decided to let go of the bowl and the spoon so she could turn around to you. Elizabeth placed both hands on your hips and got close enough so you could see every color in her iris. She smiled, showing you the wrinkles around her eyes, the curl of her lips and the white teeth that would regularly taunt your skin. Her soft hands found their way beneath the sweatshirt you had been wearing - something that you stole from her closet when you were cold months ago - and your own hands rested on her shoulders while you looked at her as if she had hung the moon on the sky and build landscapes on Earth.

You were honestly and undoubtedly the luckiest woman alive.

And then, when you thought there was no way your heart could beat any faster inside your chest, Elizabeth said: “I love you.”

You knew that. That was something Elizabeth had told you on your sixth-month anniversary, something you had waited calmly for even if you had blurted out the words way before that. Elizabeth had shown you with actions other than words, though it never stopped feeling like walking home when you heard her say it.

Even so, you narrowed your eyes at her and said: “That won’t take you off the hook.”

Elizabeth laughed again, deeper and lower than before, and her face got even closer when she used the tip of her nose to draw the line of your jaw. Your breath came in more broken and shaky, and you closed your eyes to appreciate the light touch and the warm breath hitting your skin. It wasn’t unusual for you to drown in her and forget the rest of the world, but that didn’t take the surprise away when your back hit the fridge. You hadn’t even noticed she was leading you backward.

Your breath caught at the back of your throat and you felt your cheeks burning at your own reaction. You didn’t miss the grin on Elizabeth’s lips when your girlfriend pulled away just enough to look at you, which could’ve made you roll your eyes if your entire body weren’t vibrating. You were engulfed by her smell - the damn organic deodorant, the after shower lotion, the mint in her breath and something entirely Elizabeth - and you didn’t shy away from taking a deep breath now.

Beautiful green eyes captured the moment your tongue darted out to wet your lips and you saw as they darkened, Elizabeth’s breath becoming sharper for a moment. You couldn’t help but think that you shouldn’t be that affected by her anymore. After almost a year of dating, you should’ve been immune to her charm, your body should’ve been immune to her touches, or at least used to it. But that wasn’t the case. As time passed, the more time you spent touching each other, knowing each other, being with each other, the more intensely you felt her and all the emotions she drew out of you.

That’s how you knew Elizabeth was the right person to take home with you to introduce to your family. She would be the last one, because you were sure she had been your last to a lot of things - last first date, last first kiss, last first time. At the same time, Elizabeth was also your first to so many more things that you couldn’t help but feel thrilled at what the future held for you both.

Your eyes closed when you felt Elizabeth’s nose brush against yours, her warmth surrounding you, her hands still holding your hips, her soft curves molded against yours. You had kissed many - many - times before. You had done even more than that. You had lost count of how many times you were left with your lips swollen, how many times all you could feel was her taste on your tongue. Yet, when Elizabeth kissed you, it was like the first time all over again.

Your hands found her now short hair - it was just barely reaching her shoulders and you had almost fainted when she showed you the new haircut because you didn’t think she could be more beautiful but there she was - and you sighed happily when you felt those white teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. You conceded her room to slip her tongue inside and, soon enough, you felt like your bodies were trying to become one.

It happened sometimes.

When she pulled away, you were both out of breath, although Elizabeth was more gracious over it, licking her lips and taking a deep breath while you panted like you had just run a marathon. Your brain was foggy with anything that wasn’t your girlfriend, her touch, her taste, her smell, but another part of you was completely awakened and wanting more.

That’s why it took you some precious seconds to even realize Elizabeth was talking again.

“We need to finish the cookies.”

You wanted to say ‘screw the cookies’ and pull her in for another kiss. You wanted to set the world on fire to take the flames from inside your veins.

Instead, you blinked in confusion. “What?” Was all you mastered enough breath to say.

And it made Elizabeth laugh.

She actually threw her head back and laughed before shaking her head and pressing a sweet kiss on your forehead, very differently from the heated one you just shared. “I was under the impression that you wanted to bake me some cookies.”

“I can give you something else to eat,” you replied and, with sheer satisfaction, saw as her cheeks turned red.

“I kind of want the cookies now,” Elizabeth declared with a smirk.

“Hm,” you sighed. “I’m never trying to bake ever again, so I think we can compromise with the cookies now and more kisses later.”

“They do need to bake for fifteen minutes and then cool off, you know?” She said with a suggestive tone that made you almost jump in excitement.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s finish this!”

You slip from her embrace to skip through the kitchen to go back to the bowl, missing the way Elizabeth blinked in surprise for a few seconds with the sudden change. You were mixing the dough when you felt her arms around you again and you couldn’t hold back the smile that colored your face.

“Cookies and kisses,” she joked with her lips brushing behind your ear. “This might be the best day off ever.”

You definitely agreed.

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #celebrity x reader #marvel #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #creative writing #my writing #drabble #fluff

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catboyfics · 1 year

Text

Curses [part I]

I have been so down bad for alhaitham like down bad enough that i can remember his voice and its so... but there aren't enough m!reader fics so here's some soup

You a student of the Akademia, and a good friend of Kaveh's. You go over to his house pretty often, but end up... intriguing Alhaitham.

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

𝑭𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴: Genshin Impact

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮: Alhaitham x male reader

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬 & 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: fluff; male reader; idiots in love, pining, OOC Kaveh

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺: 2.4k

It was a pretty standard day. You had just finished all of your classes with at the Akademia and were excited to get home when you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. You reached in, grabbing it dejectedly until you saw who was calling you: Kaveh.

You pressed the little green button on the screen and held your phone up to your ear. You heard Kaveh's voice through the little device and smiled.

"Hey, do you wanna come over to my place to study for the test tomorrow?" He offered, shocking you. You had forgotten that you had a test tomorrow, and hadn't studied at all for it.

"Yeah... I actually forgot we had a test. Your 'genius' roommate might need to help me out..." you trailed off, rolling your eyes at the thought of Alhaitham. Admittedly, your opinion was probably pretty biased as Kaveh's friend, but the guy seemed like an asshole.

Kaveh sighed, and you could imagine him looking at you with that disappointed face of his. "Well, you should come over soon. I'll start making some snacks."

You nodded, before realizing he couldn't see that, voicing your agreement instead. His house was right on the way from the Akademia to your home, so you slowly made your way down the twisting stairs.

Finally, you reached the last platform and could see Kaveh's house. You smiled brightly, eager to get there. You walked the rest of the way and knocked on the door, grinning when Kaveh opened it.

"Kaveh! Thanks for inviting me, and for reminding me about the test. I would've been screwed." You joked as he welcomed you in. You walked to the living room before seeing Alhaitham and turning around. You really didn't want to deal with the Acting Grand Sage today. You didn't see it, but the man frowned slightly at your instant departure.

Instead, you made your way to Kaveh's room, dropping your heavy bag off before walking to the kitchen to help your friend out. You could see him pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven and felt your mouth watering.

"You spoil me." You tease, grabbing a cooling tray to put the cookies on. Kaveh grinned at you.

"Anything for you. We need to wait a bit to let these cool down, though." He said, joking right back at you. You nodded, grabbing a tool to move the cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling tray.

After a few minutes, everything was moved and you had poured yourself a glass of cold water. You and Kaveh nodded to each other, and started making your way to his room before you stopped.

"My room's not gonna be big enough for the two of us, it would be easier if we used the living room." The blonde said, frowning at the idea of Alhaitham being there.

"With your roommate?" You whispered back, trying to make sure the Acting Grand Sage didn't hear you. "You have to be the one to ask him to move, though."

Kaveh looked at you with betrayal, though the wrinkles at the sides of his eyes said otherwise. He sighed defeatedly, making his way to the living room with you in tow.

"Hey, Alhaitham. Me and (name) need to study here. Could you move somewhere else?" Kaveh asked, annoyance lacing through his voice. You expected his roommate to move with no issue but he decided to be even more of an asshole today.

"This is my house. Why don't you figure out somewhere else to study? Or at least put up with me in the living room." The man said, making you furrow your brows. You saw Kaveh grit his teeth in anger.

"We have a test tomorrow, is it so much to ask for some space?" He shouted, making you back away slightly.

"You're scaring your guest. Put up with me or go somewhere else." The Acting Grand Sage said coldly, making Kaveh look back at you with worry. You dismissed it, said it just surprised you. You didn't like it when people argued.

"What are you thinking?" Kaveh asked, looking between you and Alhaitham, who was still rudely staring at you two.

"I think we just bite the bullet and stay in the living room. I don't want him to feel like he's won." You whisper stubbornly, looking at Kaveh's roommate, and flinching as you see him looking right back.

He looked downright evil, and you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

Kaveh nodded, seeming to agree with you as you walked into the room and faked a dramatic sigh. Eventually, the Acting Grand Sage's gaze fell back to his book as he seemed to ignore your presence.

You and Kaveh made yourselves at home on the comfortable sofa's as you pulled your heavy books out of your bag. It wasn't long before you started studying, though Alhaitham didn't leave. For whatever reason, you didn't mind. It was surprisingly easy for him to study with him around.

You heaved out another sigh, it felt like that had been all you were doing so far. You were so screwed, there was no way you were gonna pass this test. Kaveh looked at you pitifully, sighing himself before pushing over his notebook and trying again to explain.

"God, I really should've studied." You whined, squinting you eyes shut and throwing your head back. From the corner of your eye, you saw Alhaitham looking at you amusedly and you glared at him. You saw him close his book and lean forward onto his elbows as he spoke.

"This is what you're getting wrong. You need to do this instead." He said in that deep voice of his. If he wasn't an asshole, you might even be into him.

"I don't need your help, Acting Grand Sage." You snarled coldly, glaring at the man. You could've sworn you saw a pang of hurt in his eyes, but that bastard didn't feel anything. You were probably just trying to empathize with him.

His lack of feeling was made obvious when he responded.

"Alright, then. Don't come crying when you fail the test." He spat back coldly. You furrowed your brows, confused why his words were so adversarial. Usually he spoke with an even, soulless tone, but he sounded angry, hurt. You shrugged it off. He was probably just trying to get into your head.

You sighed, dread swirling through your stomach. You weren't at all ready for this test. You fixed your eyes on your notes, pondering over what Alhaitham had pointed out earlier as the figurative lightbulb lit right above your head.

"Kaveh! I figured it out!" You yelled, smiling gleefully. You pumped your fists in the air as Kaveh looked at you happily, though he did look surprised.

"Have you finally got it?" He asked warily, though you could tell he was glad. You felt bad for making him basically tutor you. You would make something for him later to make up for it, you decided.

"Yeah. See, if you do this instead of that, then this happens and when that happens you can do this and then it's solved." You rambled on, explaining your reasoning. You felt eyes on the side of your head and looked at Alhaitham, but when you turned to him his eyes were still glued to his book. You decided to think nothing of it.

"Yeah, exactly." Kaveh said with relief, sighing as he leaned back on the sofa. "Oh, shit, we forgot about the cookies! They're definitely cool by now."

You eyes widened as you nodded frantically, getting up and speeding to the kitchen. As you rounded the corner, you almost slipped but Kaveh grabbed your waist, holding you to him to keep you upright. You felt heat spread across your face and hurried to get out of his grip. You had never been in such an intimate position with another boy, and you hadn't come out to Kaveh yet.

You turned back, trying to rid your face of the redness as you scratched the back of your neck. "Thanks for catching me, Kaveh." You said quietly, awkwardly before scampering off to the kitchen. You could hear him chuckle awkwardly before joining you in the kitchen.

You looked carefully at all the cookies in the tray, trying to find whichever was the biggest. You carefully plucked it from the middle of the tray and took a bite, eyes widening as the flavors swirled through your mouth.

You tried to speak with the food in your mouth, though it came out as more of a mumble. "'s really good, Kaveh!"

He smiled sweetly at you as you took another bite, taking a bite of his own cookie. As his lips wrapped around the cookie, crumbs fell to the floor and you laughed. Suddenly, you felt eyes bore into the back of your head and turned around, seeing Alhaitham staring at you. You had no idea what the guy was thinking.

"Kaveh," you muttered, noticeably quieter than before. "We should get back to studying."

Despite the surprised look on the other boy's face, he nodded, and stuffed the rest of the cookie into his mouth, making you laugh sweetly.

You soon made your way back to the living room, sitting down on the plush sofas as you grabbed your pencil. A sigh left your lips as you threw your head back. You were feeling a lot better about the test, but you still didn't like studying.

You heard a chuckle from your left before it came to an abrupt stop and you looked to Alhaitham with wide eyes. He laughed? You'd never heard him laugh, but it was a beautiful sound. You wished you could hear it again, but you realized that he was probably just mocking your incompetence. After your realization, you couldn't help but frown.

You shook your head, gritting your teeth and forcing your gaze back down to the heavy textbook sitting on the table. After a short time hyping yourself up, you started studying again.

You spent so much time studying that you didn't even realize dinner was approaching. You only noticed the time when Alhaitham stood up, looking down at Kaveh.

"I'm making dinner. You and your friend can clean up your own plates." He said coldly, making you scoff. It wasn't an unreasonable expectation, but he said it as if you wouldn't anyways. You watched his retreating form as he walked, seeing the muscles in his back ripple. You only just noticed that he wasn't wearing his cape.

Kaveh nodded, rolling his eyes before turning his attention back to your studying. Seeing your distraction, he placed his hand in front of your face and snapped his fingers, pulling your out of your admirations. You jolted, jumping slightly as you turned back to the blonde with a blush. You had just been caught ogling his roommate, after all.

He just smiled knowingly, chuckling slightly under his breath as both of your focus returned to the pages in front of you.

It wasn't long before you heard Alhaitham calling Kaveh's name, realizing soon that dinner was ready. You and Kaveh both made your way to the kitchen, grabbing the bowls Alhaitham had prepared for you. It looked mouthwateringly delicious, and it took a good amount of self control to wait until you were sitting down at the coffee table before eating.

He had made a sort of a pancake thing. You weren't entirely sure. 'Contemplation' was written on top of it, and you wondered if it was some wort of personal jab. You shook your head, sucking in a breath before breaking off a corner with your fork. When you put it in your mouth, the flavors swirled all around and you smiled.

It tasted like an altered version of Sabz meat stew, which wasn't usually your favorite, but with the way this dish was prepared, you were ready for it to become one of them.

It wasn't long before your plate was empty and you made your way back to the kitchen, grabbing the sponge next to the sink and scrubbing your plate clean. You propped it on the drying rack next to the sink and washed your hands for good measure before heading back, waiting for Kaveh to finish eating.

Kaveh seemed to be eating the slowest, because Alhaitham finished before him. He did the same as you did to your place before returning to the living room, but not sitting down. Instead, he addressed Kaveh.

"Kaveh, is it alright if I borrow your friend? Important Akademia matters." He asked matter-of-factly. Your eyes went wide, nervous that you had done something wrong, and you looked at Kaveh with anxiety as he finished chewing.

"Yeah, I'll finish soon. Take as much time as you need." He dismissed, winking at you teasingly as you face heated up with red. Son of a bitch. You sighed, standing up defeatedly as Alhaitham gestured you towards his room.

You furrowed your brows. You were going to his room, and not some sort of office? You didn't understand why, but there was very little that you understood of Alhaitham. The grey-haired man unlocked the door, opening it and welcoming you inside.

His room was... large. It was very big, and seemed like it had an ensuite bathroom and a walk-in wardrobe. In all honesty, it made you jealous. You stepped in the room, pulling the door shut behind you as Alhaitham stepped closer to you.

Pink dusted your cheeks as you could almost feel his breath on your face, his eyes staring earnestly into yours. This was a side of him that you hadn't seen before. It reminded you of the stories Kaveh told of Alhaitham being his cute junior.

You took a step back, feeling the wood of his door press against your back. You had just entered the room, and now you were basically pinned against a wall? How did that happen? Slowly, Alhaitham whispered something breathy.

"What have you done to me?" He asked suspiciously, a sharpness in his breathy voice. You furrowed his brows. You had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. You shook your head in turn.

"What are you talking about, Alhaitham? I've not done anything." You murmured, still looking the man honestly in the eyes.

Hearing your answer, he took a step back, carding a hand through his grey hair (looking at it now, it looked very soft). Huffing out a sigh with a furrow between his brows, he looked back at you with worry in his eyes.

"Then why do I care so much?"

Hope you guys enjoyed this!! At the end, I'm thinking Alhaitham might be a little OOC, but I still quite like how I wrote him.

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#male reader #x male reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x male reader #alhaitham x m!reader #m!reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x male reader #genshin #genshin x male reader #jasper's fics

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rorywritesjunk · 9 months

Text

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. A known swordsman makes a brief appearance in this. Buggy is jealous and a bit insecure in this chapter. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. Also I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who reads, reblogs, and replies on this story. I love everyone of you and it makes my day brighter knowing there are people enjoying this! So thank you thank you thank you! <3

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 7

Buggy woke up to a bucket beside his bed, a glass of water on the nightstand, and a note telling him you were in the kitchen. He was confused as to why you left him a note because he didn’t know why you were there at first. He had fuzzy memories from the previous night: going to the shop, walking back to the ship, a drink, a marriage proposal, sharing his bed-

Oh shit. He fell out of bed, horrified by how he acted towards you. That was the last thing he wanted and he scrambled to find some clothes to put on. He found his shirt from the previous night and threw it on, ignoring the stains and smell of beer coming off it. Maybe you were still on the ship and he could explain everything, unless you left and never wanted to see him again. That was entirely possible.

You were in the kitchen when he came crashing in, eating a banana as you looked at the photos he showed you last night. He froze when he saw them and you looked up with a smile.

“Good morning, Buggy.”

“Where did you get those?!”

“You showed them to me last night.” You chuckled before taking a sip of your tea. “After you asked me to marry you.”

His hand shot off to grab them but you were quicker, moving them out of his way. You then pointed to the floating hand.

“Also, can you explain this?” You asked. “Miss Pins mentioned something about Devil Fruits but I didn't get it. and last night your body… was a part for a moment and it was…interesting to see.”

How were you talking so casually about all this? It was like discussing the weather, you were asking if it was cloudy outside. Others would have been horrified, thinking he was some kind of freak for what his body could do, but you were just eating a banana as you waited for an answer.

“I… have Devil Fruit powers.” He mumbled as he sat himself in a chair across from you. “I ate the Chop Chop fruit, so my body can split apart.” He scratched his head and looked at you. “Well? Aren't you disgusted or scared of me now?”

“Am I supposed to be?” You frowned as you finished your banana. “It's not like you bleed everywhere when it happens, right? If anything it's probably useful. You took your bottle back from me last night when we were walking, which was, admittedly, a little weird, but I had already seen it before. Just after you laid down last night I realized I wanted to ask you.”

“So…you're not disgusted that my body does this?”

“Buggy, I don't find your body disgusting.” You assured him as you sipped your tea. “Okay?”

He blushed and looked away. “Really? Even my nose?”

“I think it's cute.” You smiled.

“Sh-shut up! Don't lie to me!” He shot back as he glared at you.

“I'm not, promise.” You assured him as you looked back at the photos. “You were so cute as a kid.”

Buggy sat back in his seat, still glaring at you as you set the pictures down and got up to pour him some tea. Did you really think his nose was cute or were you just saying that? So far you'd never been mean to him, only occasionally teasing him, but he still was wary when it came to his nose.

When his tea was ready you brought the cup back to him and pushed the plate of fruit over to him. “I figured fruit would be a good post-birthday hangover meal. You need to hydrate.”

He crossed his arms and eyed the plate before looking back at you. “Why are you still here? I figured you would have left.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You told him as you picked up an apple and cut into it, separating it into slices. “You said stuff about me making you happy if I married you, and… I got worried.”

“I'm fine.” He grumbled as he looked down at his lap. “I was drunk, ignore what I was saying.”

You put the apple slices down on the plate before getting back up to find something with protein for him. He picked up one of the slices and shoved it in his mouth as he turned to watch you. He acted like a damn idiot last night but you stuck around to make sure he was okay. Did you want something from him or did you genuinely care about him? This wasn’t something he was used to or expected, so it was a little hard for him to understand. You found a jar of peanut butter in a cupboard and grabbed it.

“Here, have this.” You opened it, noting that it still seemed edible before finding a spoon to scoop some out for him onto the plate. He watched you suspiciously before he helped himself to the peanut butter.

“You don't have to stay.” He said with his mouth full of food. “Your boss is gonna come looking for you.”

You shrugged as you sat back down in your chair. “I'll leave in a bit, but only if you walk me back.”

He glanced up at you with a frown, but you said nothing as you grabbed a towel and wiped his face for him. He grumbled and tried to pull away from you but you didn't let him, making sure his face was clean before you sat back down. He glared at you, face flushed as he finished his plate.

“Ignore everything I said last night.” He said again as he looked down at the plate. “I was drunk.”

“So you don't think I'm nice?” You asked with wide eyes, feigning surprise. “Or soft? You don't want to marry me then?”

“I-I do!” He said before slapping his hand over his mouth. You grinned at him and leaned back in your chair. He glared at you. “You're cruel.”

“I thought I was nice.” You teased as you sipped your tea. He crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance as you grinned at him. “Let's finish up, I need to head back. I have a customer returning today and I need to make sure he gets his order.”

He just grumbled as he drank his own tea. You got up and tidied up the kitchen, making sure to wash the dishes and dry them. He watched you as you moved about, enjoying how you already felt comfortable on the ship, that you seemed to know where everything was already in the kitchen. It was a sight he could get used to, he decided, but he didn't know if it was something you'd want.

“Let's head out, okay?” You said with a smile.

Buggy just nodded, but instead of leaving the ship you led him back to his room to put the pictures back while he pulled his boots back on. You found him a clean(er) shirt to wear and held it out to him, turning you back so he could change. He didn't know why, you obviously saw him shirtless (and he had a brief flashback to what he thought was going to happen last night and he momentarily died of embarrassment before straightening back up), but once he was ready he reached to put his bandana back on when you stopped him.

“Can you leave it down?” You asked, your own cheeks pink as you reached out to touch a lock of his hair. “It's um, just so pretty. I’d like to see it.”

He stared at you, wondering if you were teasing him again, but you weren't. A lock of his hair was entwined in your fingers as you ran your thumb over it, and when you realized what you were doing you let go and put your hands behind your back.

“Sorry.”

“No, it's…fine.” Buggy said as he tossed the bandana aside. He always put his hair up, finding it to be a nuisance as it got longer. His Devil Fruit made it difficult to get a haircut, it just reattached itself whenever he tried to cut it, so he gave up and let it get long. He didn't think it was a feature someone would care about, like his nose.

You smiled at him, he felt his face heating up and he looked away as he held his arm out to you. When you linked your arm with his he straightened up before he marched out of his room with you on his arm, thinking today would be a good day.

When he saw your customer he was horrified by how handsome he was. Dark hair, cheekbones, sharp, yellow eyes. And you were nice, helping your customer into his coat, explaining what you did with his request, and when you touched his shoulders Buggy couldn't help but feel jealous because you did that for him too, you always made sure his coat fit him, but it was obvious now that you did it for everyone. Buggy had no reason to feel special.

When you finished up, your customer kissed your hand before leaving. Buggy was seething. You just shook your head before grabbing Buggy by the hand and leading him to the backroom.

“I have a present for you, Buggy.”

He tried to ignore Benji saying how cool that guy looked or Miss Pins commenting how that customer was so handsome because he knew they wouldn't think that way about him, so why would you? He said nothing as you let go of his hand and retrieved a small white box from a pile of other ones. He crossed his arms, glaring at his feet as you walked back over to him and held it out.

“Happy birthday.” You said, but he wouldn't take it from you. “Buggy?”

“You didn't know it was my birthday until last night.” He mumbled. “How do you have a gift for me already?”

You shrugged as you opened the box for him. He still wouldn't look at you. “I thought of it this morning. I did some hand stitching on this for a customer who never came back for it, but thankfully he prepaid for it.” You pulled out a square of silk, a light purple color, and held it out to him. He finally looked up, reaching out to touch it with his fingers carefully. “I thought it would look better on you than in some box.”

He hesitated and pulled his hand back. He didn't deserve a gift like this from you, especially considering on your own birthday he was an asshole to you. You said nothing as you rolled the fabric loosely before draping it over his neck. You pulled his hair out from under it before you looped it into a knot and tightened it just a bit.

You smiled as you tugged on the front of it gently. “It looks good on you, Buggy.”

Buggy swallowed heavily and nodded. You were so close to him right then. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty. If he didn't do what he wanted to do right then he would regret it. You'd get romanced by someone else, some more handsome pirate, and he had to make it up to you for what he did on your birthday.

Without a word he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, nose bumping and-

Honk!

Buggy froze and pulled back from you, a look of horror on his face at what just happened. You stared at him, but before he could bolt you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him back, tilting your head just enough to avoid bumping his nose. He kept his arms at his sides, unsure where to put them.

It felt like it went by too quickly when you pulled back from him, smiling brightly as you pecked him on the cheek.

“Is this a belated birthday gift, Buggy?” You teased as you let go of his shirt. He was red in the face but he grinned, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to be smooth.

“D’you want it to be?” He asked. You touched the silk around his neck and leaned into him, but he leaned back, expecting some kind of surface to support him, but instead he fell backwards and crashed onto the floor.

You immediately knelt down and helped him sit up, checking him for injury. He seemed fine, just embarrassed, so you kissed him on the cheek.

“It could be, but I wouldn't say no to flowers.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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writing-house-of-m · 2 years

Text

No More Interruptions

Taylor Sloane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Angst

Warnings: Anxiety/depression, cheating, asshole-ery, swearing

Word Count: 6,943

Summary: You and Taylor are friends. When her husband becomes insecure in their marriage and cheats on her, you help Taylor as much as you can through her divorce while you hide your true feelings for the blonde.

A/N: The request can be found here. I hope you enjoy anon! (I'm sorry it took so long)

You have been in love with Taylor Sloane and there was nothing you could do about it.

The two of you had become good friends. Great friends even, which is why you couldn’t say anything. You didn't want to ruin what you had. Not to mention the fact that she was married.

And you had to watch.

Watch the couple’s interactions with a smile on your face. Listen to everyone commenting on 'how cute' they were and how they were the ‘perfect couple’.

Every word felt like a knife was being twisted in your chest. Over and over again.

You tried to move past your feelings. Spent some time away from her, admittedly it helped for a little while. You even started dating again and started a relationship with someone but as soon as you were back in Taylor's orbit all your feelings came rushing back.

Eventually, you and your, now, ex-girlfriend split amicably. You tried to love her but when those words didn't ever come from your mouth after she said them to you, you knew it was unfair to hold on to her.

On the other hand, Ezra, Taylor’s husband, was jealous of you. He had it in his mind that you would make a move on his wife. Regardless of your feelings towards the blonde, you would never have come between them.

However, having had enough of living in her shadow on top of being so convinced she would cheat on him, using his own words, - 'I cheated on you, before you could do it to me.'

Taylor was heartbroken. She loved the man wholeheartedly and felt betrayed.

She wasn't aware of his jealousy. She hadn't caught on that he would be overly affectionate when you were around. How he would grit his teeth when his wife would talk about you to others. He’d be so caught up in his jealousy that her words about him being 'so talented,' and 'the best husband anyone could have asked for,' fell on deaf ears.

After Ezra's cheating scandal and their divorce was caught on by internet gossip sites, you tried to be there for Taylor but, with her ex-husband spilling lies about you and her, you found it was better to keep your distance and only met up with her in small groups of people. Never just the two of you alone.

As the months passed by, you helped with as much as you could while Taylor grieved her relationship with Ezra all the while dealing with her divorce. It got to a point where you had made a schedule so that someone was always with her to ensure she wasn't alone.

Because it couldn't be you.

…

Music was blasting through the house as you stood in the kitchen with your friend, Dan.

“She’s so fine, Y/n!” He was talking about a girl he had been talking to and you were standing there smiling at his antics to bed the, in your words, poor woman.

He knew about your feelings for Taylor, as well as everything you were doing for her, so he made sure you turned up to this party to give you a chance to relax a little.

He was successful for the most part, seeing you speak to new people, making new friends. He even helped be your wingman a couple of times. Even so, while you were pretending to listen to these girls you had a different one on your mind the whole time.

He took a swig of his drink and asked “Anyone caught your eye? I saw you talking to that brunette, are you taking her home tonight?”

You told him you appreciate what he was doing but you just wanted to see Taylor. It had been over a month since you last saw her.

He shook his head disapprovingly but sympathised with you. "So, who's with her tonight?" He asked, satiating your need to talk about the woman that wouldn't ever leave your thoughts.

Finishing the sip you had just taken of your drink, you struggled to keep a straight face when you told him, "Nicky," forcing yourself not to smirk, waiting for his reaction.

His face scrunched up when he caught on, "Nicky?!" You scoffed at his facial expression. "Nicky? Her brother? The ‘always-wasted’, ‘ready-to-party’, Nicky?" He questioned.

You chuckled slightly, "Yeah, that's the one." You took a mouthful of your drink, before continuing with a smile on your face, "He's actually stepped up in a big way and been really protective."

"I don't blame him. This Ezra sounded like a dick. I would have kicked his ass a long time ago," he says and before either of you get to say another word you hear someone shout, "LET'S PARTY MOTHERFUCKERS!" Recognising the voice instantly you move to the main room of the house, with Dan following.

You see Nicky waving and saying ‘hi’ to several people he probably didn't even know, as you walk up to him. He sees you so addresses you too, "Y/n! It's about time I saw you at one of these again!" The blonde says as he pulls you into a tight hug.

You return his greeting and when he lets go, with furrowed eyebrows, you can't stop yourself from asking, "Why aren't you with Taylor?" Voice raised so he can hear you over the music.

He shrugs his shoulders, "She told me she wanted some time alone," he says nonchalantly. You're about to scold him for leaving her but he stops you because he's been on the receiving end of this before, having had this kind of conversation with him a few times already.

He puts up his hand to stop you before you start, "Wait, just listen," He pulls you to a different room where the music is a bit quieter, "I told her I would stay with her but she insisted. She said she was just going to sleep anyway." He clarifies and from his expression you can see he's telling the truth.

He is looking around at the other party goers, giving someone a head nod and another person a wave, while you nod your head, "Ok," you say solemnly and hesitate to continue. "How is she?"

"Ehh…" He was trying to think of the right words, "She's… better than she was but still has a while to go," then blurts out an afterthought, "She always asks about you, you know?" Someone dancing catches his attention and his face lights up. While you're distracted thinking about what he has just said, the excited man sees this as his opportunity to leave you. "Gotta go bros!" He says to you and your best friend before rushing off.

Dan starts to speak from behind you so you turn around, "Look, I know you think you're helping by not going over. But it's been long enough since you last saw her." He pats your arm grinning, "Go over and just say 'hi'."

“Maybe you're right,” You smile at him.

“I’m always right,” He responds, going in to hug you goodbye.

"Plus,” you both pull away, “I gotchu bro!" Dan says comically, mimicking Nicky and making you laugh.

…

It doesn't take you long to get to Taylor's from the party. You thank the driver and make your way to her door.

You know it will be fine but you feel nervous. It feels like a lifetime has passed since you last saw her.

After a few knocks and no answer. You think she could be sleeping so you are about to leave but just before you do you figure, since you're already there, you could at least text her to make sure.

Upstairs, Taylor, already looking at her phone, smiles when sees your message pop up at the top of her screen:

I know you're home. Come and answer your door, lazy 😴

She considers not answering because she's been crying and doesn't want anyone to see her like this. She’s been laying in bed for a few hours reading comments about herself online.

She hears her phone ping again:

Don't leave me on read now Sloane 🤨

She laughs tearily at the message and types her reply. Once it is sent she moves to her bathroom to splash some water on her face hoping it will soothe her eyes and irritated skin.

When it obviously doesn't work she throws on a hoodie bringing the hood over her eyes hoping to keep you from seeing them.

You smile when you hear your notification sound.

You're not allowed to comment on how I look

After a few minutes you hear the door unlock. Taylor is standing in front of you, drowning in an oversized hoodie.

"When you said I couldn't comment on how you looked, I thought I'd at least be able to see your face and crazy hair," you say with a smile.

"And yet, you still commented on it." She retaliates.

You laugh at her jest.

"Hi Taylor," you say, still smiling.

She whispers a "Hi," and you see a small smile because it's all you can see of her face.

"Can I come in?"

She moves to the side as you step in, not going any further. Once she has locked the door and faces you, you open your arms. She falls into you without hesitation.

With your arms around each other, her head against your chest, you press your cheek on top of her head.

"I've missed you," She says in a small, sad voice that you can't help but feel a twinge inside you.

"I've missed you too," you reply.

"Sorry, it's been so long," you whisper into the dimly lit house. It's so strange to see the bubbly blonde so down, you still haven't gotten used to seeing her like this.

You place a kiss on the crown of her head and stand there for a little while longer enjoying this moment you've been longing for the past few weeks.

It’s been quiet for too long, so you decide to break the silence, "You haven't gone to sleep on me, have you Sloane?" You quip.

The blonde laughs and sniffles as she pulls away.

"You've been crying," You knew it as soon as you heard her voice when she first opened the door. "Is that why you're not letting me see your face?"

She finally looks up from the ground to your eyes and when you see hers, your heart breaks with how sad she looks. "Maybe," she whispers with a small smile on her face. But a tear falls and you can't help but pull her in for another hug.

The two of you stand there for a few more minutes until she apologises; for crying and for ruining your shirt.

You can't help but laugh at her as you grab her hand, "You have nothing to apologise for."

She looks at you again with teary eyes.

You just want to wrap her up so you can keep her with you and make sure she never hurts again.

Using your other hand you brush away a stray tear and cup her cheek, "Do you want to talk about it?"

You're in her room, sitting across from each other on her bed.

She has finally taken off her hood and you can see just how broken she looks.

Messy hair, red and swollen eyes. You don't think you've ever seen Taylor this sad before. You hate that she's feeling like this.

The influencer opens up about everything going through her mind. All about how she didn't know Ezra was feeling insecure in their marriage. How she lost you because of everything. Her insecurities about finding love again - If she'll ever find 'the one'.

You talk her through it all, reassure her and call Ezra a variation of names from 'dick' to 'the worst type of scum' gaining a few laughs from the sad girl.

Overall she looks better. Relief settling in her bones after getting all of this off her shoulders. She couldn't be happier that you showed up. And being honest with yourself, you felt better too.

"I saw what they were writing about you. Online. What he said about you. I know that's why you stay away." She thinks to not say her next thought but continues anyway, "I would stay away from me too."

You give her a puzzled look, "Taylor. I didn't stay away because of you, I stayed away because of them," she returns your look. "I stayed away so they wouldn't have the ammo to use against you with these lies, I never want to be away from you. I really have missed you."

Taylor's eyes fill with tears again, only this time they're happy tears.

“You’re kind of my favorite person,” you say, pushing her shoulder teasingly, which she laughs at.

You talk even longer. Hours and hours of talking about everything and nothing.

You talk about some of the weirdest influencers you've come across, Nicky and Dan arguing over stupid things - in your opinion, they'd both die first in a zombie apocalypse. "I know! Nicky couldn’t stop going on and on about it when he came here that day!" The blonde adds.

You're both laughing when you look out of the window and see colors of the sunrise. You hadn't realised how late, or early, it had gotten.

"Oh wow, I should really go," you say, taking out your phone to look at the time. You see a flurry of notifications you didn't know about because you had put it on silent earlier. While you have it out you quickly read over a few messages as you pull down the status bar on the screen and stand from the bed.

You don't see the way Taylor's face drops at the prospect of you leaving.

Her voice stops you from picking up your jacket.

"Stay."

The word comes out so soft, that if the room wasn't so quiet you would have missed it.

You look up from your phone and see green eyes shining at you, begging you to accept her request.

There's a hopeful look on her face and you knew from early on in your friendship you wouldn’t ever be able to deny her of anything, especially when she's looking at you like that.

"Okay," You smile at her.

Who knew one word could make someone so happy? She's beaming as she slides to the other side of the bed pulling her covers over so you can get in.

You're not sure if you should face her or not as you put your phone down next to the bed and move to lie next to her. But when you see her facing the middle, you do the same.

Once you’re both comfortable, you look over and see her smiling at you. You can’t help but smile back.

Goodnight’s are whispered to each other and Taylor is asleep within a few minutes.

You gaze at her sleeping figure. She looks so peaceful, so soft. You make a mental note to text Dan thanking him for pushing you to see her.

With your mind going one hundred miles a minute it takes you a while to fall to sleep.

…

From then on you had both been texting and calling frequently but avoided meeting in person to avoid any complications while her divorce was being settled and rumours were still circulating.

It only took a few more weeks but once the divorce was done, you were able to be Taylor's close friend again. Physically speaking.

Even though your feelings were as strong as ever you never overstepped that line of friendship.

You didn't want to ruin what you had.

You couldn't.

…

Life, from there, carried on for Taylor. She was back on Instagram, made a few videos about her divorce and talked about how she was going to fully embrace this time she had to herself.

To work on herself.

She was happier, your friendship was better than before and you both frequented different social events while pushing one another to be better in your respective circles.

Everything was good for months until she ran into Ezra at a grocery store.

…

Nicky was in town and staying with Taylor.

After the incident, he tried all he could to console her but whatever he was trying didn't help.

Many failed attempts to comfort her later, he called the one person he knew could help.

You were away for some humanitarian work and were going to be out of service for at least a week.

When you told Taylor you were going she whined asking you to let her tag along next time. After explaining it wasn’t her scene because there were no five star hotels… or any hotels as a matter of fact - her face wilting was the only answer you needed, making you chuckle.

"Just hurry up and come back," she whined.

When you got back and saw the amount of missed calls and texts you had from Nicky, you called him as soon as you could.

Whenever you were away from Taylor, be it in meetings for work or away for whatever reason, witty messages from the blonde were usual - ‘You better be missing me,’ ‘I’m bored,’ ‘Hurry up and finish what you’re doing,’ etc.

So when her brother explained everything and told you Taylor hadn't been herself for days, you weren’t surprised. You had deduced that much when you saw her messages had stopped around the same date of the confrontation Nicky filled you in about.

He had been making sure she was eating and taking care of her basic hygiene but overall she wasn't doing well even if she was pretending she was fine.

When you got to Taylor's house you used your emergency key to get in.

You raced to her room but entered slowly.

You spoke cautiously "Taylor?" She was laying in bed, back facing the door. "I know what happened," you say softly as you approach her.

She looked so small.

Ezra had fast become the biggest lowlife you'd ever come across and that was one of the nicest ways to put it.

While Taylor went shopping and was in the produce section, he and his new girlfriend surrounded her. Talks of her using her fame to bad mouth him, making him look bad while Taylor was playing the victim.

She got out of there as fast as she could. It was a good thing Nicky saw her being ganged up against and stopped her ex from saying anything else by sucker punching him in the jaw.

He drove her home but she didn’t say a word to him the entire drive.

When he explained to you what had happened you knew she would fall back into that state you found her in months ago.

She'd come so far since then and all it took was a few words from this literal piece of shit to bring her back down.

"You're so much better than him Tay," she stays quiet. "Remember when I called him the scum of the Earth? I found a better way to describe him - 'dung nugget'," you try, but still nothing.

As you shrug off your jacket, placing it to the side on her chair and sitting on the bed so you can almost see her face. You change your tone to a light hearted one, "I guess I need to bring out the big guns to make you laugh," you're met with even more silence so you carry on.

"Did you know the first french fries weren’t cooked in France?" You see her eyebrows furrow, confused as to how you went from trying to cheer her up to something so random.

She wonders if she should say something even though she doesn't have the energy but you don't give her a chance as you continue, "They were cooked in Greece," you smile, proud of yourself.

Still nothing so you carry on.

You make a fake face humming like you're thinking of your next joke even though you have a few ready to go.

"Why did the scarecrow get an award?" She wants to roll her eyes but she just lays still on her side.

"Because he was out standing in his field." She bites the inside of her lip to suppress a smile but remains quiet. You see some movement of muscles on her face and try to suppress your grin because you have one more you’re sure will work.

"What do you call a dinosaur that uses really cheap toilet paper?" She closes her eyes, pursing her lips because she thinks she knows where the joke is going to go: she's wrong.

You end your ‘pause for dramatic effect’, "Mega-sore-ass," you hear her scoff and you let out a chuckle too, "I knew you'd like that one."

As your laughter subsides, you hear her speak, "I thought you were going to say something about the ‘dung nugget’," she says quietly.

You smile, shaking your head, "Damn, that would have been way better. When did you get funny?"

The blonde reverts back to silence until, "Y/n, I know what you're doing, and it's sweet, but I just want to be miserable."

You press your lips together and let out a breath through your nose. She thinks you're going to leave but you’re taking off your shoes to then slide in next to her on the bed.

She automatically moves so she can lean into your side with her arm over your stomach. You get comfortable by placing your arm around her and pull her close to you.

Once you're both settled, with her head on your clavicle, you hear her release a shaky breath and feel her relax into you.

You kiss the top of her head and begin to stroke her hair while you lay in silence.

After a few minutes you break the quiet atmosphere, "I know it doesn't feel like it but you won't feel this way forever. One day, you'll be so happy that nothing will bring you down."

"How do you know I'll be happy?" She asks with a sniffle.

With your chin leaning on her head and you smile to yourself, "Because I'll be there to make sure of it."

Taylor brushes a tear gathering in the corner of her eye with the sleeve of her hoodie wrapped around her thumb and says, "How? With your lame ass jokes?" Finishing with a small chuckle.

You let out an exaggerated gasp, "How dare you insult me like that Taylor Sloane!" You begin, as you pull away from your cuddled position.

Taylor's disappointment from moving away from your warmth doesn't last long because you continue, "You know what I have to do now, don't you?"

Looking at you confused, Taylor is about to ask what but before she can say anything you answer your own question with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, "Payback," not giving her any time to react you start to tickle her.

She screams and starts to giggle from the sensation of your attack on her ribs. Her giggles turn into howling laughter and soon you're both laughing at each other because Taylor doesn't back down from a challenge. Not with you.

She tries to retaliate but you have the upper hand because you've moved on top of her.

You grab her flailing arms by her wrists and pin them down to the bed either side of her head. You both breathe hard, as your laughter slows, "I guess I win, Sloane,'' you say with a smirk on your face.

She tries her luck by pushing her arms up but you push back not giving her a chance, making you both chuckle at her failed attempt.

When she sees she is trapped she realises something, “So what now, huh? Your hands are too busy to attack,” she says smugly.

You smile down at her.

She looks so beautiful.

Even with her messy hair that's tied up in a bun giving you a full view of her face.

Her tired, shining emerald eyes look at you the same way you're looking at her.

You take in every detail of this moment which feels like an eternity. Both your smile's lost as this boundless moment drags on.

Her gaze drops quickly to your lips then back to your eyes.

You look at her lips a second longer she looked at yours, thinking to yourself; Is this really going to happen?

When both your eyes meet again, you are waiting for her to tell you to stop as your head lowers slowly.

Just as you're almost at the finish line, the tip of your nose brushing hers, you hear the front door of her house open, "Taylor!" You hear the voice of her brother and the rustling of some bags making you pull away at a record speed. "You better not be moping around! I bought us some food!" He shouts.

You get off her sitting on the edge of the bed, moving to put on your shoes, your back facing her as she sits up looking at you.

No words are exchanged as she walks out of the room first.

Taylor makes it into the kitchen but you hang back a little while longer, mind reeling at your almost kiss.

Nicky smiles and Taylor gives him a full one back, it's not like one of the half-assed smiles he's been getting from her recently. He sees her eyes are not as dark as they have been the last few days too.

As you make it to them soon after, you look up to see Nicky sorting through the food, plating it all up. "Y/n, I didn't know you were here," he realises now, why Taylor looks better and offers you a smile that you easily return. "There should be enough food for the three of us."

‘Maybe it's not meant to be.’ - This is the mantra that always goes through your head when you're with her recently.

"I should go," you smile and start to turn to leave. Just before you do you whip your head around, "If you need me just call me, okay?" You say to Taylor once she makes eye contact.

She smiles and nods her head. "Thank you," she rushes out before you turn to leave again. "For today. I feel better."

You give her a small smile, "I'm glad," you reply. You say your goodbyes to them both and leave the house.

Taylor stares at the spot you were standing as you leave. She hears the door shut and lock, while her mind replays the moment on her bed. Nicky's voice brings her back to her standing in the kitchen, "Is Y/n alright? They never say no to free food," he jokes as she turns to look at him.

She smiles at his comment and starts to help him with the plating.

When he starts talking about one of his 'bros doing a backflip into a pool' her mind goes back to you and his voice turns into white noise.

If Taylor was being honest with herself;

She would admit that she had imagined a future with you;

Your kind and loving nature had only pulled her in more and more;

That she was in love with you.

…

A few weeks pass by and while you and Taylor haven't been avoiding each other your interactions have been… less.

Nicky has left the city again but not before making sure his sister was going to be okay without him, speaking to you to make sure you were going to be around more than you had in these weeks.

The two of you have only met a couple of times since the day in her bedroom. Neither of you mention it when she calls you on a random Thursday morning asking if you’re busy.

Her house is running out of necessities so she needs to go shopping. While Nicky was there he would do it but now that she has to do it, she doesn't want to go on her own.

You agreed to go with her but under one condition: you would drive.

The two of you have a long running joke about how bad of a driver she is. She, on the other hand, doesn't see it.

Her laughter in response was music to your ears, you had hated being away from her.

Greeting Taylor, albeit a little awkwardly at first, the two of you fall into your rhythm once more after a few jokes and insults like the way you both usually interact.

When you get to the grocery store Taylor is sitting in your passenger seat, working up the courage to enter.

You sit there giving her the time she needs to build up the courage to enter the store. "It's always been so easy, to just walk in," Taylor says as she plays with her fingers, replaying the last time she was here in her head.

You reach over and take her hand in yours, "Take all the time you need Sloane," you smile at her.

She takes a final deep breath as she reaches for the door handle and leaves the car. You follow her lead by stepping out of the car and moving inside. You make sure the blonde takes her time walking through the aisles.

You manage to complete the shopping trip without a hitch. There was an almost incident where Taylor thought she saw Ezra after rounding a corner. Before she could freak out though, you wrapped your arm around her, hand resting on the shopping cart handle, "You're ok, it's not him," you said calmly, as you successfully walked past the man.

Now that all of her shopping bags were bought in from her car and resting on the counters in the kitchen, it had finally caught up to Taylor.

She was shaking and you did what you always do which was take her in your arms, "You’re safe now, I’m here."

Once her trembling stops, she takes a step back and looks at you, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Smiling you say, "I know you'd be fine because you're Taylor fucking Sloane," making her chuckle.

When the moment passes, Taylor takes on a more serious expression, "Really, Y/n. You mean so much to me, I can't imagine my life without you," she says, truthfully.

You look to the floor and then back to her eyes, "You mean a lot to me too, Taylor," your heart begins to race.

Your mouth is getting drier by the second. The expression on your face is so serious, Taylor is slightly taken aback.

You play with the keys in your hands and take this opportunity to say the words you've longed to say.

"Tayl-"

Both of you look in the direction of the front door when you get interrupted by the doorbell ringing. She mumbles something about going to see who it is so you nod your head acknowledging her.

You take a deep breath and jump slightly when your phone rings.

By the time she gets back she hears the end of your speech, "I'll be there soon, bye," she can't help the frown that takes over her face.

You turn around seeing the look on her face, you ask, "Everything ok?" She smiles, explaining it was a package for Nicky.

She can't help but ask, "You have to go?"

"Yeah, there's an emergency with some photos and I'm the only one that can deal with it I guess," you say and she smiles softly at you.

"Saving one person at a time," you smile at her comment and want to say you would always drop everything to save her, but you don't.

You wrap her in another hug after making sure she will be alright. You then say goodbye before leaving.

Before Taylor gets on with sorting through the shopping she finds herself spaced out once again after another interaction together.

A major thought being: ‘What were you going to say?’

…

You had been so caught up with everything going on with Taylor and distracting yourself with work you don't know the last time you spoke with Dan.

The two of you arranged to meet, so right now you were both sitting outside enjoying a day of leisure together.

Once he had updated you about his life, you started with yours.

He already knew about the almost kiss in the bedroom but you use this time to catch him up with the latest.

When you get to the part about you almost telling Taylor how you feel about her in her kitchen he called you- "dumb! You are such an idiot Y/n!"

"Thanks," you deadpanned.

"For real Y/n, why can't you just tell her how you feel?" He sounds frustrated and you can’t blame him. He has had to listen to you talk about the same girl for over two years.

"We keep getting interrupted, I think it's a sign," you exasperate, as you look at a few clouds in the sky leaning back in your chair.

"Bullshit!" He shouts out and you turn your head, smiling, to look at him, "What about all the times in between when you haven't even tried?!" His expression is serious and you lower your eyes to the bottle in your hand for a second and back to him, "You need to tell this girl how you feel," he lowers his voice, accentuating his serious expression.

You're not smiling anymore and he knows where your mind is going to go with this "I-"

"No!" His voice goes back to being raised.

You try again, "You don-"

"I do understand, because I know exactly what you're gonna say," damn, he knows you too well.

You sit there for a few seconds shaking your leg while you chew your lip in thought.

He leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you, voice lowered and a lot softer than before but still as threatening, "I know what's going on in that head of yours. I can literally hear what you're thinking,"

You pause your ministrations and squint at him, "Bullshit, you don't know what I'm think-"

Before you can finish your accusation he is already saying what's on your mind, albeit, cynically, "Oh I don't want to ruin our friendship(!) The universe is against me(!) Wah, wah, wah. You big baby," he finishes leaning back in his lounge chair.

You look down while you stay slouched in yours. "You're an asshole, you know that?" You say, smiling as you look back at him.

"You know what? I do know that, I know I'm a correct asshole and you need to get your head out of your own ass," he finishes.

You scoff, "Dick," then go silent as you start thinking and considering he's not letting you speak, now he's not going to let you think either.

"Y/n, no. No big romantic gestures, no big speeches just tell her how you feel."

Wow, he really does know what you're thinking, it's kind of scary.

"Alright! Alright," you sigh, leaning forward. "I'll talk to her, but-"

"No. Shut up," You laugh again at his abruptness, "You said yes, so you have to do it now. And by now, I mean NOW," he waves his hand as if to shoo you away, "Get the fuck off my property."

You stand up, you can't believe you're about to do this. But before you leave you you’re about to voice a doubt in your head, "What if-"

You shouldn't be surprised to get cut off yet again, "Y/n, man. If you don't leave right now. I will get violent," with his threatening voice you scoff and shake your head.

As you start to walk away you pause before continuing and turn back to him, "Thanks Dan," He stopped himself from heckling you again when he heard what you were saying, "For everything, really. You're a great friend."

"Bitch, I know. Now get outta here before I hose you down." He says, then takes a sip from his bottle.

You walk with renewed vigour in your step.

You were really going to do it.

You are going to tell her.

…

As you get to Taylor's house, instead of letting yourself in, you knock. It wouldn't feel right to just walk in. Not with what you have to say.

Looking at your shoes you don't have to wait long before she opens the door. Your head flies up and when she sees you, she smiles. You automatically smile back.

"Hi," you say uneasily, hands balled into fists in your pockets.

She doesn't understand why you look nervous, so her greeting comes out as a question, "Hi?" She laughs, "Y/n, what's wrong?" She looks a little worried but still has a smile on her face.

You let out a breath, you didn't realise you were holding, as a shaky laugh, "I actually wanted to talk to you about somethin-"

"Taylor? Who is it?" You hear a deep voice coming from behind the door making you pause.

The door swings further as someone pulls it open to see you standing there. It’s a man you don't know. He’s holding two wine glasses, it doesn't take much to piece it together.

She was on a date.

Your tense muscles collapse just as your facial expression does.

She smiles at him, introducing you to each other. But you can’t hear anything. Blood is rushing in your ears and your throat feels like it’s about to close in on itself.

The whole situation is overwhelming, you can feel your eyes filling with tears so you look away. You need to get out of there quickly, before you break down, "Sorry for interrupting, I'll leave," you hope you manage to say.

"What? What was it you wanted to talk about?" She asks, confused.

You’re already turning on your heels so you rush your words out, "It's not important, bye," walking away as fast as you can.

Taylor calling out for you falls on deaf ears because you knew this was a stupid idea, you knew you shouldn’t have even thought about talking to her about your true feelings.

You’re not sure if it's from the speed you’re walking or because of this whole situation or both but your heart is racing and your breathing picks up quickly.

Everything is confusing but one thing is for certain - you feel yourself breaking.

It's only when you're halfway down the street that you realise tears have spilt over.

You finally take in your surroundings and can hear someone closing in on you.

It's Taylor.

"Y/n, what's going on? You're scaring me," she asks, as her brisk walk reaches you. You take a step back when she goes out to reach for you when she sees your tears.

She's in front of you and you can’t stop thinking about her and how pretty she is. How much you feel for her.

Your chest is heaving, your breathing heavy, the lump in your throat doesn’t ease off.

You couldn't have stopped your next words even if you tried. You’re not thinking properly and the words you've been wanting to say for so long finally spill out.

"I think I'm in love with you," you can't stop blinking. Whether it's to blink away your tears or from your nerves, you don't know.

Taylor is looking at you, speechless. She always wondered if there was something in your feelings towards her but always brushed it over thinking it was all in her head.

"No, I-," you scrunch your eyes closed for a second taking in the fact that you're really saying this, "I am in love with you," you finally say your truth, looking her in the eye.

All the blonde can do is stare, bewildered as you look at her.

You've gotten this far, why should you stop now, "I've loved you for a while now and I didn't know what to do so I kept it to myself."

All the times you held back has led to this moment where you can't stop rambling, "I came here to tell you, but now you're on a date with someone and I-"

You've lost count with how many times you've been interrupted today but this time it was because Taylor's lips were on yours.

It takes a second for your brain to catch up to what's going on but eventually you kiss her back.

You pull her in by the waist as her hands cup your cheeks so she can fully kiss you. It feels eternal and you're kissing her like your life depends on it.

You both need to stop for air, breathing heavy.

"It isn’t a date, he's a friend of Nicky's," you rest your forehead against hers, scoffing at how ridiculously you acted with your overreaction.

You pull back again so you can look at her properly. She's smiling. She's smiling so brightly that she could be compared to the sun.

You take your time looking at one another so you can take in this moment.

Even with how fast your heart was beating and the loud rush of blood still in your ears, you hear her say the words you could have only dreamed her saying before now loud and clear,

"I love you too."

A/N: Thanks to Reddit for ‘Dung nugget’ and to @8bitscarlet for the French fry joke lol

#taylor sloane #taylor x reader #taylor sloane x reader #taylor sloane x you #taylor sloane x y/n #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x y/n #self insert fanfiction #no more interruptions tag

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ohmotherwhereartthou-if · 2 months

Note

Is there any way of making the ROs go literally weak in the knees?

Hello!

You asked this a while ago, I am so sorry 😭, but I did end up answering it eventually here: Link

But it had practically been a whole year since that post and I have come to understand my characters a whole lot more since then. So I will expand a bit on this since I took so long to answer it! 😊

Consider this part 2!

Cassandra: Still would like handmade things, it feels more heartfelt and personal to her that you would make something for her with your own two hands. She would still love massages and relaxful time with you, she forgets how to unwind sometimes and it makes her very snappy and tense. Having someone remind her to take it easy every now and then will have her melting in your arms. Going on outdoor activities with her would also mean a lot, especially if you are not an outdoors person. You willingly choosing to do these things with her even when you don't enjoy them means a lot.

Valeria: She likes quality time and acts of service, so cleaning up/making something for her will still be very moving for her. She would also swoon for MC if they show genuine kindness/generosity towards others, she likes helping others and is often chastised for doing so. Seeing MC do it too and have it coming genuinely from their own heart would mean the world to her.

Tomás: I think I really hit it on the nail last time with him, asking him if he is comfortable with anything that you are about to do still has his heart doing somersaults in his chest. The fact that you would take his comfortability in account before you do things just further shows how much you want to be considerate of him and how he feels. It could range about asking him from how he feels about physical contact, to doing certain activities, or even if he approves of an outfit or decision you are making. The very fact that this is genuinely coming from YOU is what drives it home, YOU want his opinion, YOU want to know how something you have every right to chose might make HIM feel. It just means so much more to him than what words can properly convey.

Ludovica: Still romantic touches, healthy loving behavior, and showing her what true love looks like. Being a gentleman or gentlewoman is a surefire way to go about making her feel like you really did step right out of a storybook. You also talking about the future you want together would also make her melt, just hearing your lovely voice and some ideas you have on how your shared future together could go would have her swooning. She loves it that MC sees themselves together with her and even has her in mind when they think towards their future.

Aurelio: Genuineness is still the way to go for him, hit him with a random 'I love you' out of nowhere or just look him lovingly in the eyes and naturally smile when you look at him unprompted and you will start to see the cracks in his facade very quickly. Also you sweetly pampering him will have him feeling a type of way; ask him if he ate, if he want you to bring him some food, if he is getting enough sleep, or offer to wash him in the bath and he feel just so so loved.

Elio: Admittedly, a whole year later and this is still a tough question for this little asshole. I think besides backing him up in an argument; if you sit down and honestly tell him how you see him might just do the trick. Tell him what you see when you see him, you don't need to complement him up and down, just be genuine. What do you like about him? What do you not like? What kind of a person do you see him as? Tell him what you see. Who is he in your eyes?

#omwat #ask #ludovica #elio #aurelio #tomas #valeria #cassandra #interactive fiction #interact if #if game #if

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plasticfangtastic · 1 year

Text

American Royalty. Ch. 8

A Homelander X F!Reader/ Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: Should be posting ch. 9 soon, thank you for reading and if you wish to be added to the taglist plz let me know in the comments, prev. chapters in my masterlist pin post and below... should be fixing my pin post soon to make it easier to find.

Tags: Mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Eight

Whisky

Being asked to leave by morning had been upsetting, but he was smart enough to know it was too soon... things had to be more formal before introducing this new stage of your lives to your children, admittedly he could tell something was off but as long as it didn’t ruin his plans he would pretend not to care, he loved the sex, and this feeling of fullfiment brewing inside him.

You were just as he had left you, every reaction just as he remembered, his only disappointment was not finding any milk in you, you taunting as he suckled with the facts he had missed out on just how full and amazing they had been when Helena was still feeding, even mentioning you had taken photos– for your boobs did look incredible.

He parted after bruising your lips with his own, wanting to kiss you more, almost getting lost as he prodded for another round, you would have given in but as the neighbors woke up, you pushed him gently saying goodbye with a peck and the flutter of your eyelashes against his skin.

But as he stared at your face before leaving, some improper desires clouded his vision, his own fantasies materializing as he headed home.

He left feeling starved, wanting to feast so desperately... wanting to see you again.

You sat on your kitchen bench, holding a bowl of oatmeal feeling sick, it had felt good, god it did– when was the last time you felt that good? And he could go on for hours with that mouth of his… but the weight of your actions had proven bitter on your tongue.

It was the natural course of things after all…

You didn’t need to love him, you just needed him to love you.

You just needed to win him over, no matter how dirty the tricks you had to use.

But as the little wannabe murderer walked into the kitchen, you fantasized of running away, far where nobody could find you… it made you sick, to feel this way... when you loved only her.

“So here’s the deal… I am going to push myself to be the best step-mother candidate he’s ever seen, I am going to get that asshole to be your dad and you are going to become part of the best fucking Superhero tag-team that ever graced this cursed fucking country! I want you better than the TNT twins, The Marvels and Legacy!” You hopped off the bench– Phantasma and Poltergeist will be household names!” You turned to her putting the bowl down– Helena you better get yourself so deeply rooted inside those labs that they will not know how to move a pen or take a shit without your input! So from now on we work together, no more improv.”

Helena was a tad surprised as she formed a stepping stool to take a serving of fresh oatmeal off the stove.

“I am glad we can see eye to eye, mother.” She took cinnamon and honey, building her breakfast as she watched you closely– I don’t think Elmo’s parents are going to like me after yesterday… had enough time to muse on that mistake last night.” she sounded apologetic.

“Leave it to me. Nigel and Sven will come around. Who wouldn’t want their kid to team up with The Homelander’s kid. Fuck I’ll even have your father make them work with us if that’s what it takes!” You spat.

Helena seemed pleased with herself as she heard you, proud that you would use the man if you had to, guess she had learned this from somebody afterall.

You didn’t take the day off, you had no time to waste in the end.

Ashley was busy, too many reports to read and correct, too many people to manage, and her research had finally bare some interesting results, she sunk in her chair giving herself a couple minutes to spare for this news preparing for the worse– Homelander had in fact impregnated at least 2 other women over the years. One had died tragically mid-pregnancy from a genuine freak accident, and the other had an abortion six weeks into her pregnancy, by sheer luck only you and Becca Saunders had won the lotto– that was one less headache on her plate, she care not for Saunders leaving that page behind with the legacy of Stan Edgar, content to just having Ryan around as proof that woman ever existed… You on the other hand, she felt sorry for, he had been honest with Ashley about your time together and reading the reports of his vendetta made her frustrated-- why he simply didn’t kill you back then… perhaps it would’ve been a mercy if he had killed you, wanting to see you suffer first.

So when she saw you walk into her office in the middle of the day, she took out the Advil.

“I thought I had to make an appointment for these things” You said.

“I've been waiting for you– take a seat please.”

Her expression seemed genuinely kind.

“What can I do for you?”

“Homelander… What is he writing? I have no choice but to agree, but I don’t really want to ask him just in case he skirts thru the important details… if he deceives me for no reason”

Ashley had the script draft on her cabinet but she wouldn’t hand it to you.

“Is simple… you and him had a torrid and turbulent on-and-off secret relationship, after Ryan was born he gained primary custody, then you guys got back together because you’re bad for each other and unable to leave one another for too long…you had Helena soon after you broke up– It will be spicy and romantic! lovers that just can’t get enough– a match made in hell!! Oh god it would be so dramatic, people are just gonna eat it up! anyhoo… you found yourself keeping Helena.” She swallowed looking down at her keyboard– There's a lot of little details we are working on for consistency. Already got a pre-production team looking at sets for photoshoots and we already have some cute babies in mind to play Helena and Ryan for some supplemental family videos and pictures.”

“I didn’t know him until after his kid was born… actually.” You did the math in your head there for a second for the first time, Ryan was tall– massive for his age. You assumed he was 12 or 13 at first glance, it stayed that way until you were told otherwise, Helena was on the other hand short, you still clung to a spurt growth down the line so your mind hadn’t noticed just how close they were in age– that motherfucker cheated on me!”

For all the grief he would give you, he hadn’t even hesitated to do the same.

Ashley sank in her chair.

“I assume you two would like to talk to him…” she bit her lips– we really need you, and your daughter… you won’t change your mind, right?” she cringed.

“Whatever…” You might as well have been cursing– I’ll do it but what is in it for me?” You tap your foot eager to run and leave.

“You will be financially compensated and have our very top in-charge of Phantasma… Homelander informed me of your plans. I’m thinking of giving her a team for when she debuts, got a couple talents that I'm sure could make a fantastic team alongside her when they become of age!” She spread her hands in arch to announce her grand vision– ‘Teenage Kix: The new order!’ We retired the name after the second iteration sold so poorly… but I can just imagine an all female team, and I guess one boy… of rebels with a cause! The next generation!” she says gleefully– We have been trying to increase our overseas Supe presence… so this new team would be a great launching pad for Vought!”

You looked at her with mild distress as she got all excited, clearly he had been talking without you around, for god knows how long.

“We got this nine-year old in Japan and this eleven year old Sudanese girl in France… their powers are so incredible, it would be a waste if we leave them as simple local celebs instead of bringing them to the global forum… to have them spearhead the most inclusive and international team Vought ever produced, heck we never even had an all-female team so Helena being captain would be historic!”

She dug through her cabinets to hand you photographs of those two little girls, you just saw girls much like your own, one with spider powers and one that could make vivid illusions according to the short report presented.

“I guess… and Ryan?”

Her excitement died immediately.

“Ryan would debut solo… but–” Ashley realized what you meant, pushing the CEO aside and forcibly bringing back Ashley to the front– We were hoping you and Homelander could take care of that whole family situation… we really don’t want this to go south… but Homelander well–

“He’s impatient and an asshole. I get it… I’ll talk to him.” You said while pushing the photos back at her– you have my full cooperation.”

Ashley said nothing when you left grinding your teeth as you pushed your chair back and headed out the door.

Marching towards 99th, he was in a meeting with The Seven at the sight of you, his serious expression softened demanding the room to be left alone for you, noting that crease on your nose with concern, you walked past them, his step was light as he basically frolicked towards you as you both gained privacy and just as he was at arm's length readying himself for a kiss– you smashed your fist on his face.

You squealed behind gritted teeth, clutching at your hand, beating in pain, your bones aching and your muscles on fire, huffing and cursing spit, blood dripping down onto the ground as you squeezed your injured hand, unsure if bones had broken, looking up your face boiling and shaky, as your hand swelled up.

“Ouch.” He said nonchalantly, tilting his head to try and catch a still glimpse of your hand– "you have no broken bones… but I’ll get you some ice.”

“Fuck you.” you hissed.

“What did I do now?” He took your hand by force, his voice winging as he spoke to you, pressing your fingers open to inspect the torn skin on your knuckles– do you feel better now?”

“You cheated on me!”

“What?” He blinked a couple times unsure as to what you meant– we aren’t… are we?”

“Becca.” You spat her name burning your tongue with the vowels– you fucked her when you were dating me! All the bullshit you did to me over “cheating”, everything you did to me you did while fucking some whore on the side!! You hypocritical piece of shit!! You fucked her and got her pregnant while you were with me!!” You shouted.

Homelander bit his lips, giving it a loud smack as he paced himself around you.

“We weren’t serious when that happened…” He said in a nervous tone.

“In what world do you live in where me calling you my ‘boyfriend’ and you calling me your girlfriend two months in– doesn’t mean you are my boyfriend you fucking bastard!!” Your throat cracked– you… you’re unbelievable… what happened last night… that was a mistake!” You cried in pain, squeezing your wounded hand.

“I was with Maeve when I started dating you, and that wasn’t a secret! Pardon me for thinking we weren’t serious but after Maeve and I broke up four months into ‘US’-- then that's when you and I were serious!!” He tugged at your wounded hand forcing you closer, you twisted and cried as he squeezed the wounds– Becca was a one night stand. Nothing just a couple hours of shit sex… Maeve and I weren’t doing anything… you… you were special… different.” he stuttered.

“What do you mean by that? You said Maeve was just a PR stunt to drive-up sales.” Your hand no longer bothered you, your mouth quivering lightly as a hole built itself inside your core.

“She had her stupid dyke girlfriend on the side… always moping about her as if I couldn’t hear her… It all stopped mattering after you– I know I was a whore. But once I met you. I decided I was going to become an ‘honest’ man for you.” He softened his grip on you, yet keeping you close, unable to leave you alone– I dreamt of us getting married in this lovely old church in Guatemala, of a life together, so I moved on from her– and Becca… just a blip. just a hole. Not you.”

“That’s a pretty way to say I was your mistress.” You could’ve cried, but he didn’t deserve to see you like that anymore, you couldn't dare letting him think he could comfort you, if you did.

“I never saw you in such manner… you were my Y/N… not my mistress… not once were you that to me… You were the one” he said genuinely upset, as you tried to taint those bittersweet memories even further– that’s the truth.”

You pushed him away floating to the nearest chair just to slump, as your legs began to give in, as the pain in your hand competed with the one in your chest.

“Before I run off up the stairs and throw myself down 99 floors– just tell me… is there any other life altering truths you wish to bestow upon me that you had so kindly sheltered me from besides informing me I was a secret homewrecker.”

“You aren’t going to kill yourself, right?” He was panicking inside.

“Piss off… now spit it out.” You looked away thinking solely of the door, and the tempting window.

“You know how I told you Becca was held captive– He blubbered nervously, his chin moving too much, his posture all twitchy– where they kept Ryan.”

“Yeah in a sound stage, what about it?” You replied frankly annoyed.

“Her husband thought I murdered her but she was alive this whole time and thought I did it– so he’s like my mortal enemy, and he even brought my dad to kill me– That terrorist attack was him and my dad. William Butcher and Soldier Boy plus Maeve came after me… but after my father tried to kill Ryan we had a truce… he’s been quiet but I still think he’s planning something… I also let that plane drop, couldn’t have saved them… could’ve saved some… but there’s a really bad video that could ruin me from that day… I also sheltered that headpopper from a while ago, and so many murders…”

“Soldier boy? Father?” You stared at him in confusion.

“My deadbeat dad.”

“WHAT!!!??” You jumped on your feet, the chair sliding rapidly behind you– wait isn’t that Butcher dude the guy who killed Stillwell!?”

“Yes… also Becca’s husband and I guess Ryan’s stepfather.” he said bitterly– "you don’t care about the other things?” He sounded anxious for a moment.

“Why would I!? We already discussed that years ago!” You responded apathetically to the situation, him killing had never been an issue– So you fucked some married floosy like the whore you are and drove a man insane… Helena and Ryan go to a very easily accessible school and you are telling me a serial killer-slash-terrorist you’ve been antagonizing for years is still out-there!! A guy who fucking brought a super-terrorist to US soil!!!”

“He would not dare to put a hand on them.” he scoffed at the idea, finding it beyond absurd.

“You mean he wouldn’t hurt Ryan.” you said, pushing the bile down your throat.

“Nothing nor anybody will hurt Helena… I promise.” His expression was confident– I can have a security detail keep an eye on her when she’s at school after we go public… thanks for agreeing with Ashley. I was thinking you, me and the kids can go have dinner tomorrow and break the news to them.”

You shot him dirty looks.

“Our kids could still be in danger. Why did you send them to school and not homeschooled them!!?” you argued, your voice turnign frayed– Are you insane!! They cannot be outside!”

“No!” He shouted– I will not deny my son of the childhood I never was allowed to have! I AM NOT going to be like Voguebaum!” He snapped shouting back at you.

You had to control your breathing, waiting for him to calm down as those red flares coloured your skin, he struggled with his labored breathing, brushing his temples as he relaxed, and you found somewhere else to shrink into.

“You literally let me come all the way here to break my hand.” You slouched on your new seat, chuckling lightly as you wiped some blood off on your pants.

“Is not broken.” he chuckled back– thought you just spit on me again.”

His mood straightened back to normal forcing a tad limp smile.

“I might after I get a drink… be a good boy and fetch mommy a scotch.” He did so obediently, you admired the city skylines as you waited for your drink, you took a quick sip before throwing it at his crotch– bitch ass.”

“Did that feel good?’ A little light reflected on your glass.

“A little bit” You giggled staring at the ‘piss’ stain on his crotch– don’t think we are fucking ever again” You growled– I’ll do my best Lorelai Gillmore impersonation and you’ll play the charming and faithful husband… I’ll help you raise your kid and you can help raise ours but we will never be together.”

“Only for the camera and around the kids… I guess we can go all 1950’s and have two nice little beds in our bedroom– maybe a blowjob for my birthday and whatever you want for yours.” He sounded as he was joking but you weren’t certain.

“Depends how nice of a wedding you had in mind. Otherwise I hope your stock up on tenga eggs” You threw the glass to the ground, letting it shattered by his boot– I wish you had been John Gillman all along and not Homelander… I wanted to marry that guy… there was this little place near my old house, a nice little park with lots of flowers…”

You had loved that memory, as embarassing tears returned, you now had no idea who was the man you had wanted all those years ago, everything built on lies, that younger you that had been ignorant was the happiest you’ve been, now you wish you could return to just being an overworked single mum, wished you could just look back at those days and still find glee if you tried… you wouldn’t dare complain anymore if you could.

“I’ll buy a million flowers just for you– picture this a carpet of flower petals as you walk down the aisle in a custom Lhullier gown, chiffon all over the ceiling, and chandeliers illuminating the roof of an antique church… Helena playing the piano, the whole world looking at you. So dinner?”

You gave him a sordid smile, more curious as to how he supposedly knew bridal designers– unable to shake up the picture of his bedroom housing a bunch of wedding magazines under his bed instead of porn.

“Let’s go to Junior’s– lovely family restaurant…" and full with people... lots of people, so he will behave-- and please don’t dress so fancy… just wear a baseball shirt and some khakis like a normal person.” You got up, your head heavier than your heart, aching more than your eyes– why didn’t you kill me a minute ago?”

“I am not making the same mistakes I did with Becca or Maeve, and you are angry… you’ll come around.” He pulled at you lifting your chin– so marry me, and make it official-official.”

“Sure. Okay. I’ll marry you. Why the fuck not?– am looking forward to a lifetime of celibacy while you fuck around all accross the tri-state area.” You sniffed a tad– love being a femcel.”

“Oh don’t be like that… my cock is all yours, just put a bag over my head and hate fuck me like a normal person, stupid– You know I can hold my breath real good.” He purred.

You gave his body a quick up-and-down, thinking of last night, he certainly was easy on the eyes, and still made sure to give you a happy ending.

“I almost think you will be happy with that.” you look at him confusedly, was he so desperate to keep you he would whore himself out so cheaply?-- just you and me playing house… is that all you want, really?”

“Well after last night, and after hanging out with Ryan and Helena together… I think I want another one.”

“Another what?”

“Kid.”

“Okay whatever”

His expression puzzled you, that wavy smile and the loud cogs in his brain working overtime as he realized that this was an event actually taking place and not a rehearsed and overplayed fantasy scenario, he had never anticipated your response, he had never expected the earnest response, it had only hit him… that you two had just gotten engaged.

He turned you around pushing you out the door.

Guess this wasn’t a cheap fuck from the local crackhead after all, as you realized you might've just agreed to have another kid... even if the odds weren't stacked in his favour.

“A son preferably” he spoke before disappearing at hyperspeed, leaving your hair glued to your face.

You broke down in laughter and tears, caught in a storm but it was absolutely hilarious nevertheless, people gawked at you as you cried and cackled by the foot of the metal statue.

You took your phone and googled the designer and gosh the work was fucking gorgeous, you made a note to have Helena break into his house to look for those bridal magazines later.

Homelander was choking on nothing, collapsed in his bedroom as his heart was about to explode, he couldn’t believe himself.

“You fucking imbecile! How are you so stupid!!?” The voice yelled at him, he recoiled, making himself small in the foot of his bed– you… you… goddammit tiger… how could you do such a thing” The voice was softer now.

“I didn’t think she would say yes so nonchalantly!” He cried.

“We didn’t even have a mariachi band! No flowers… god that was so ugly and cheap! So fucking embarassing.”

“But we got engaged didn’t we!?”

“Fake-engaged… send her flowers and go get a ring... make it real you cheap fuck!"

He nodded softly at his reflection, finally calming down, thinking he had actually done something right.

“A wife… finally a wife… and she can’t leave me… she can’t…” he whispered– so… we did it.”

“Don’t celebrate, she might change her mind.”

“Thought I was a pessimist,” he joked.

By night when you reached home there would be multiple knocks on your door, men carrying extravagant flower arrangements right after the other, even waking you up the next morning with carnations. Helena seemed pleased with your developments even if it made her nose a little itchy thst the house smelled like spring.

Leaving cards saying “thank you and I love you.” for you to read.

It was cute, but excessive.

Homelander stared at the 30+ different cake options and the endless pages of the overwhelming restaurant menu, thinking of how many years it would take him to kill the calories, the place smelled sickly sweet and the people around were loud, at this point he might as well gone to fucking Chilli’s. His only consolation was that you did have a chuckle at his outfit, a dodger’s shirt, beige khakis and those sexy ass white New balance…the versace shades did come back, just to ruin the look.

Ryan and Helena exchanged expectant looks, both knowing you both were about to say something life changing and obvious, Homelander could smell his son’s anxiety feeding into his own as he shuffled in his seat.

The brown New York classic indoors were fun and charming, a hundred year old venue was cool, but he wanted this to be over and admire later.

“So… I have something to tell you Ryan.” He was so pale, ordering dessert first before dropping the news, his fork pushing the maraschino cherries around digging to get to the cheesecake he had no desire to eat.

“You guys are dating.” He blurted taking a bite of his layered carrot cheesecake.

“Well…” He swallowed hard, he looked at you for support, a little relieved inside admitedly.

Your hand reached out for this little boy’s arm, mustering a sweet honest smile, taking a long deep breath before speaking.

“Your father and I are getting married” Helena choked on red velvet frosting, trying not to die there, she expected you to get here but not immediately– I know I cannot replace your mother nor will I try, but I hope you can let me help take care of you, and that you can guide me to do so in a way that honors her memory.”

You choked slightly on your own words.

As the kid looked at you in disbelief, unsure if he should take himself away from you, he looked at his father who hid his face with shame, checking if the people around this booth could overheard this.

“Your father and I dated for a couple years after he met your mother… We were both young and we led very different lives so we separated… but we had Helena…” He finally gave his son reassurance, stroking his back as you spoke camly– we had been seeing each other for a while now… so well here we are… We know it is sudden but after everything you went through in the last two years it just seemed irresponsible to throw myself into your life… but this isn’t better… is just not possible to contain, and is unfair in Helena.”

“She’s my sister…?” He looked at his father desperate for answers, with blotches of pink forming on his neck.

He had to give you points for how easy your lies flowed out of your tender lips, that was not in the script he had planned for tonite, he by now had forgotten all talking points he had planned for not that they mattered anymore, he even had you rehearse some but frankly you didn’t bother memorizing them either.

“Did you know?” he asked Helena.

“I suspect it… I mean we got the same eye color.” she points with her fork.

“I didn’t know about you, Helena… your mother and I did not end on amicable terms.” He looks at you with believable tragedy, no doubt from years of acting on his belt and actual feelings– it is quite regrettable but we have reconciled, and that’s all that matters now.”

“I made mistakes when it came to my daughter and your father” Your mouth tasted like horseshit so you swallowed hard– I am sorry but I hope we can… get along… We both want you and Helena to grow up as a family. I won’t force you to accept me, and we won’t be moving in together any time soon but please give me a chance.” You said starting to tremble in your seat.

The kid and your kid looked at each other.

“You two are the worst.” Your daughter spoke on his behalf as the kid seemed lost.

“Is okay… I think this could’ve been worse” Ryan said– you seem nice Ms. L/N…”

“You can call me Y/N or a nickname if you like.” You said with your most saccharine voice– Your dad and I were thinking maybe going together for a holiday… bit of a bonding experience.”

Ryan and Helena contemplated the idea, Homelander was panicking as you forced your revisions onto him.

“Camping would be nice.” Ryan said.

“I always wanted to see Yellowstone.” Helena giggled at the idea of seeing geysers, and this man failing miserably to build a tent.

“You’re taking this quite well, honey” You said towards your daughter.

“It is what it is…”

A/N: will say what reader-chan said about Becca does not reflect my personal views on Ms. Saunders storyline, but in this story HL never told her about the events of Ryan's conception obviously nor hinted at anything unsavoury involving the matter... for all purposes Reader knows HL kills people willy nilly but isn't a sex offender.

Taglist-- hope you guys had fun reading @demodemo909 @immyowndefender @fromforeigntofamiliarity @666riddler

@ghqstfqce

#personal #homelander #the boys #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my fic tag #this chapter was a lot hope you guys had fun reading as much as i had writing it #american royalty

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hourcat · 4 months

Note

piarles + "good boy" :)

Pierre can see the way Charles' muscles are straining as he's using the last of his strength during this bench press set; admittedly, they're almost at the end of his usual workout routine that's been so carefully put together, so this really just extra because Pierre finds that nothing makes you a better personal trainer than being a bit of an asshole--but Charles responds well to it, and he pays him for it, so at the end of the day, that's become part of his job, too.

"Fuck," Charles grits, and his arms are about to start shaking from where Pierre is standing, so he steps in: with a grunt, he sets the bar back where it belongs as the athlete he's training gasps and heaves in relief below, chest rising and falling, face shiny and shirt an entirely different color from the amount of sweat that's poured off him today. "That was--"

"You made it through a couple more reps than I thought you would," Pierre interrupts, grinning down at Charles' exhausted expression that's too tired to even react the way it should--"but catch your breath, Cha, and we can move on to the cooldown routine."

With a strangled noise, Charles scoots forward on the bench and pushes himself upright once more; his face is soaked with sweat, hair dripping down into his eyes, and Pierre works with at least fifteen different other athletes across a variety of sports but none of them do this exhausted elegance bit quite like the driver hunched over before him.

"Let's get some water in you," he hums, grabbing the bottle from where it's clattered over on the floor and handing it to Charles, who takes it gratefully; he guzzles at first, still not quite having caught his breath, and Pierre has to grab his shoulder gently to remind him--"easy, Charles, don't drown in--yeah, there we go, good boy--"

Charles' eyes fly open suddenly, wide and almost spooked and darker than Pierre thinks he's ever seen them.

send me a ship and a word and i'll write you five sentences <3

#SORRY FOR THE DELAY ZOE ILYYYYY #personal trainer pierre my beloved <3 accidentally unlocking something for his pretty boy client #10 x 16 #fic #five sentence fic meme #ask reply #pierregasiy

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copiass · 1 year

Text

What's In A Name?

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10,218

Warnings: nsfw, light dom/sub, oral sex, glove kink, dirty talk, office sex

"It was undeniably, inarguably, most definitely fucked up. You had never meant for it to get this far - really. It had just been a mistake, and not even your own at that, just a stupid slip-up that had sparked something sick and wicked right in the pit of your stomach."

AKA: Whilst harbouring a secret crush you use your boss’ last name without him knowing. (I know nothing about tax returns or identity fraud, deal with it.)

Can also be read on ao3

Other fics here

It was undeniably, inarguably, most definitely fucked up. You had never meant for it to get this far - really. It had just been a mistake, and not even your own at that, just a stupid slip up that had sparked something sick and wicked in the pit of your stomach. An urge to fulfil some long-dormant, base need that had somehow started to form in the deepest part of your gut. An urge that had, admittedly, spiralled out of control weeks ago. An urge that currently had you pacing towards Copia’s office, pretty sure you were about to get fired.

You’d been Papa’s Personal Assistant for about six months, and up to now it had been going just swimmingly. The promotion had been a surprise, the latest Sister handing in her notice red-faced and vexed after being summoned to Copia’s office for yet another lecture. She had managed to last 2 months, admittedly his longest up to that point. But his PA’s always ended up the same, pacing and ranting endlessly in Imperators' office, notice in hand, begging to be moved elsewhere to spare his ‘incessant micromanaging’. You had been fairly new to the clergy, eager to make a good impression with a secret soft-spot for the newest Papa. With, unsurprisingly, few takers for the role all it had taken was a short interview with some of the higher members of the clergy and you were in, your own desk, a stripe of Papa’s blue added to your uniform and even an extra half-day off in the week (though, admittedly, you rarely saw it).

It hadn’t taken you long to realise that Copia was not, in-fact, an insufferable asshole, a particularly cruel employer, or a dictatorial micro-manager. He just appreciated when things were done a certain way. And - oh - you’d made the effort to learn, how he liked his papers filed and tabs colour-coded, how he preferred his stationary ordered at his desk, the exact temperature he liked his afternoon tea. It became easy, placing things on his desk before even he realised he needed them, slipping his old books back to the library without him asking, making sure his reading glasses were sat right where he would reach for them while he absent-mindedly flicked through paperwork. It just worked. The more time you spent with him the more you understood what he wanted, what he needed, just intuitively. Yes, Copia ran a tight ship, with little to no room for slip ups, but you soon realised it’s because it had to be that way. His keen attention to detail sometimes seeming like the only thing keeping the whole ship afloat and fully functional.

Not that he had made it easy for you. It was like he had already resigned you to failure that first morning you showed up in his office, eyes flicking over you briefly before he looked back down his nose through his glasses, examining spreadsheets with a displeased hum. It had only pushed you, the more unmoved he appeared at your presence the harder you worked to get it right. The more paperwork he pushed through your desk without comment, the quicker you filed it. The more he complained about his tea not being right the longer you kept it brewing. The louder he scoffed under his breath at his ink running dry, the sooner you were there to refill his pen. Not with Ministry issued ink, no, but Copia’s favourite ink. The one imported from Italy in a gilded case, kept in the top right-hand drawer, behind his ‘secret’ chocolate stash. And it was worth it - so - worth it when he would give you that look. Like you had pleased him, that he understood what you had done, that he appreciated it, deeply.

And it felt perversely intimate. Knowing someone so well when you barely knew them at all. You quickly learned Copia was not a morning person and did not like to chit-chat before at least 9.30am. His favourite lunch was on Fridays when the kitchens brought up a small charcuterie board paired with an expensive red to finish off the work week. He preferred the black olives to the green ones, even though you insisted they were the same just to wind him up and watch the smirk pull at his painted lips. You learned how he bit away at those same lips when he was expecting a phone call from Saltarian, and how he rubbed at his temples when he had been working too long, the both of you sprawled across the desks working into the early hours of the morning.

Copia learned too. He learned that when you were stressed you’d chew on the end of his, frustratingly, expensive pens as you worked, brow furrowed as you read over his work. He learned that if he voiced his distaste for green olives for long enough you would eventually slink over to the other side of his desk and steal them off of his plate, neglecting to use cutlery, giving him the chance to watch your oil slicked fingers slip them gently into your mouth. He learned that you were eager, so eager, for every challenge he presented to you. Eager to prove him wrong, eager to impress him. He also learned that you liked to poke at him, test the waters, push his buttons just to tease.

“Ai! This stress will be giving me even more greys, Sister.” He’d complain, whining and smoothing at the silver hair at his temples, checking his reflection in the gilded mirror in his office.

“Oh, I do hope so, Papa.” You’d sigh back with a wink, savouring the way he would look over to you, eyes burning in the candlelight of his office, eyebrows raised in a mock warning.

And there it was. The fine line that you both danced around in the confines of his office. You initially made a point of not seeing him outside of work, intentionally ignoring the pointed silence that had started to emerge everytime Copia announced he was retiring to his rooms for the evening, avoiding his offices on your days off, only seeing him at Masses with the rest of the clergy. But soon enough it just became easier to spend your lunch breaks together, whispering clergy gossip over a now shared pot of tea. And then it was just easier to eat dinner together over paperwork, the kitchens bringing two dishes instead of the one. And then it was just easier to have a quick shared nap on the couch in his office when trying to meet a particularly challenging deadline, the weight of your head pressed nicely into the warm meat of his thighs as his gloved hand rubbed at your temple lightly.

It was inevitable really. To be so close to a Papa, to be so close to him and have him seep into every crack, every crevice of your subconscious. It was funny, to see behind the facade, to witness him as just a man at his desk every day, swearing under his breath at his “horseshit” brothers who couldn’t balance out a spreadsheet to save their lives, and yet also see that he was objectively not just a man. The confidence with which he carried himself, the way he unashamedly let his gaze linger, his reluctance to ever speak indirectly or without purpose. And if you had to finish off most evenings alone with your fingers between your thighs and his name falling from between your lips, that was your prerogative. Copia didn’t have to know. You were driven, determined even, to not let it distract you. To prove to him you could work well, help him achieve his vision without getting preoccupied with something else.

So, naturally, when the postman responsible for delivering your mail made a mistake, just a tiny, minor mistake, it should have been an easy fix, a laughable offence. When the postman dropped off the usual letters and packages with a warm smile, and a casual ‘Mrs Emeritus, I take it?’ you should have laughed politely and corrected him as you took the mail. You should have clarified your position, maybe even offered up your own name instead. You should have taken the mail to Copia and offhandedly mentioned the exchange so you could both laugh at just how ridiculous that concept was.

Yet, before you could even think, before logic even had the chance to enter the equation you found yourself nodding, smiling as you took the mail with a surprisingly confident;

‘Yeah - that’s me.’

Any sense of professionalism, common sense or even decency were outweighed by the sudden, sick satisfaction at the implication not just of being his assistant, but his wife. Copia fucked around, you knew that, gathered as much from the gossip around the ministry. Not that you’d dared to ever ask him personally, though due to embarrassment or jealousy you weren’t really sure. You knew he had a reputation, that was just part of being Papa, it came with the job. When the urge took him he had any number of Siblings to choose from to satisfy him for the night. But being his wife. That was different.

You’d shut the door, letting your back hit the dark wood as you grinned to yourself, cheeks still flushing at an implication you’d never considered before. You let the fantasy wash over you, picturing what it could be like, how he would hold you, how he would adore you, how he would fuck you. For a moment you weren’t just his assistant, who tidied his desk and sorted his mail and served his tea, but his partner. His equal. Your head had felt dizzy with it, the words of the delivery man still buzzing in your ears, pulse racing, cheeks flushed. You’d thrown the letters down on Copia’s desk a little more hurriedly than usual, rushing back to your own desk pointedly avoiding his gaze. If he noticed anything he did not comment, choosing instead to sort through the post with just a soft glance your way.

That’s when it started. This problem. This perverse little game you’d been playing only with yourself. You’d tried to forget it, laugh it off as a joke and nothing more, just a mistake that caught you off guard. But that seed had burrowed down, deep into your gut where even you couldn’t remove it. Then it spread, reaching even into your dreams, filling them with images of dishevelled greying hair and slick leather gloves. It had appealed to some base nature deep within you, eager and possessive. Yes, the first time had been a mistake - but offhandedly signing a receipt with that same name certainly had not been. Neither had the second receipt. Nor had the third. Or that new email signature to an outside agency. Or the rooms booked under your name on the last tour.

Who would know? You’d reasoned to yourself, knowing that the only person checking the paperwork was, by default, you. Copia was none the wiser, more important things to think about than receipts for minor purchases or email signatures. You’d never use that name inside the ministry, it was a dangerous game after all - playing with the Emeritus name. You’d seen what had happened to those who played games the Ministry didn’t approve of and you did not intend to join that list. It wasn’t even about the name, not really - just him. The fantasy that you were someone that was important to him, someone he was attracted to. Theoretically, it was foolproof. It was harmless, no one would ever find out anyway. It just gave you a thrill - the risk of being caught weighed up against the kick of using his name.

Theoretically.

It wasn’t until Copia pulled you aside one evening as you were aimlessly fiddling with his diary for the next day that your heart dropped into what felt like your ass.

“We may need to be breaking into Terzo’s coffee supply the next few days, eh Sister? Hehe.” He’d chuckled to himself, leaning back in his chair.

You flicked your eyes over to him, taking in the way the leather waistcoat lifted as he stretched, pulling up his black undershirt with it, revealing the dark, greying hairs on his lower stomach. Satanas - you’re sure he did it intentionally half the time, just enjoying making you look. Realising you had absolutely no idea what he just said you shook your head.

“What?”

He smiled at that, flicking his eyes away as he tried to repress it .

“Tax Returns, Sister. We have a lot of paperwork to get through together.”

“I thought we got … someone else to do that?”

You blanched, your stomach flipping as you thought about the stack of paperwork in your locked top draw, signed with a name that is most definitely not your government name.

“Ai - I am not paying someone to do what we are perfectly capable of doing ourselves.”

Papa moved to stand behind you, hands coming down to squeeze at your shoulders reassuringly. You absolutely do not think of the size, or weight, of them as they cover most of your frame.

“And we will do an excellent job as always, Sorella. Nighty night!”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

You had sighed in reply, your eyes following him as he moved down the hallway to his private quarters, knowing he’d used your favourite nickname to try and soothe you.

Shit.

That is how you’ve found yourself pacing to your shared office, praying to any deity that will hear you that Copia does not, for probably the first time in his life, need to see every single detail and scrap of paper that has ever passed through the Ministry. After spending the night tossing and turning and triple checking the receipts just to make sure they definitely didn’t look like he had signed them, you had formulated a game plan. Realistically a few minor receipts would be fine going under the radar. You had made sure to never sign for something important, something there would need to be a paper trail for. You also knew that Papa, being the way that he is, had kept all of his most important paperwork with him, collated in colour coded folders next to his desk, obviously. There is no reason that he would suspect something is amiss, there is no reason for him to suspect you have a hidden stash of, probably illegal, receipts and invoices currently stashed in your bag ready to burn. And there is absolutely no reason for Copia to already be in his office before you get there.

It seems that no deities have decided to take pity on you.

You know he’s in a shit mood the second you open the door to the office. The first indicator is that he’s already drinking coffee - which he hates doing. The second is that he’s got an already well-used ashtray on his desk and a cigarette in his mouth, meaning he’s cracked open his also ‘secret’ emergency ‘stress-relief’ smokes. Those usually only make an appearance when he’s got those big annual budget meetings with the upper clergy. Shit.

Doing your best to look objectively not guilty you sweep over to your desk, flipping your laptop open to check your emails. He’s on the phone, you notice, that stupid ancient phone holder balancing between his shoulder and his ear, cigarette balanced between his full lips. Whoever’s talking is clearly pissing him off, his brow is furrowed and he’s tapping his fingers against the desk. He also hasn’t acknowledged your presence yet which is unlike him, unnervingly unlike him. Unsure of what to do or say you just continue mindlessly tapping keys and clicking on already opened emails, doing anything to look busy and avoid drawing too much attention to yourself.

“Pah!-”

Copia spits out, slamming the phone down on the holder in response to whoever was on the other end of the line. You startle and look over to him as he finishes his cigarette with a deep drag. Now that you’re looking at him you can see the extent of his stress. Even under the paint you can see the heaviness under his eyes, the way the waxy pigment has started to crease with the tension in his brow, the way it’s started to rub away a little where he must have been rubbing at his jaw. His hair is just the right side of dishevelled where he’s been running his hands through it, the greys threatening to fall into his face as he talks. His scarf has been pulled loose, hanging somewhere near his chest rather than up near his ruffled collar. His desk is a wreck, different piles of papers stacked and stapled, different mugs strewn in between, an unlidded highlighter cast aside near the phone. He’s been at this all morning. He takes a breath, emptying his lungs of smoke and rolling his neck.

“Sit.”

You startle, jumping in your seat. He is not asking.

“Regretting not getting someone else to do it yet?”

You joke, trying to save it, though your delivery and flat half chuckle don’t quite manage to sell it. Copia doesn’t bite.

“That was my brother on the phone.”

Papa starts, you try not to think about how rough his voice is after taking a drag, much deeper than it usually is. You don’t have to guess which brother, that would explain his sour mood.

“You see, Sister, I am missing paperwork. Some receipts, some invoices - you know-” He motions with his hand as he talks, eyes scanning the papers at his desk, not looking at you just yet.

“So, I call my idiota brother, these things are usually his fault, si?”

And shit, he’s definitely stalling, he’s getting at something here and you’re hoping, praying it isn’t what you think it is. You force your bouncing knee to still itself, willing your face to be straight and empty of anything that he can pick up on.

“And yet he says, it is not him. So I do the checking, and he is right-” He scoffs, “for once.”

You nod, patiently, obediently. Waiting for him to make his point. He turns to look at you, really look at you, the white of his eye somehow more intense than it usually is, stark against the deep paint on his eyes.

“I do not miss paperwork. Sister.”

And there it is. He’s giving you an out. Copia doesn’t give second chances, and this is going to be his only offer at a first. You don’t speak, a million excuses coming to mind at once, each one as equally pathetic as the last. You know how you must look sitting there in front of him. Lying was never one of your strong suits, especially under pressure, especially when it’s to him. Yet it’s like you can’t speak, can’t even begin to think of how to get your mouth to move and formulate words.

“Do understand, Sister, that we do not take this sort of thing lightly. If you were hoping to be fiddling or moving extra money in some way-”

“Woahwoah-”

You interject without thinking, room spinning a little as your brain catches up to what he’s actually accusing you of.

“Of course, I would have hoped that you would have told me if-”

“It’s not that!”

You hiss at him, suddenly a little offended that he thinks so lowly of you and your intentions. The room is still tilting as you try to save yourself from whatever the fuck is happening. You suddenly realise you’ve just handed yourself a shovel and started digging, Copia’s eyes narrow suspiciously, and fucking hell why does he look so good when he’s mad.

“Then what is it.” He asks, patience clearly wearing thin, the coffee and nicotine only working to rile him up more.

You decide if any deities are still listening they should most certainly just open the ground, swallow you whole and just have done already. At this point you honestly don’t know if it would be less embarrassing to just admit to some sort of fraud and risk being excommunicated permanently on grounds of financial criminality. Lucifer - your habit has started sticking to you and your throat feels like it’s closing up, panic setting in. You’re just about to throw the towel in, admit to being some sort of crook when you decide to look at Copia again.

And it’s devastating. Under the paint, under the mask, under the guise of cold professionalism is worry. Genuine unease sitting in the all too familiar lines of his face. Your chest pulls as you look at him, his eyes threatening to become wet and glassy. You realise that he’s not pissed, but hurt at the idea of you admitting to this, at the notion that his assistant has been dishonest with him. It’s right about then you decide then you would rather suffer any amount of personal embarrassment over hurting him. Without speaking you reach into your bag and pull out the stack of papers you’d been hoping to get rid of. He looks away, immediately wounded at the implication.

“Just read them.” You breathe out as you throw them onto the desk, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Sister, You cannot expect me to believe-”

Copia starts, then pauses once his eyes have scanned over the first few scraps of paper. He stops. He looks up at you. His eyes flick down again, then over the next piece of paper, and then the next. For the first time in six months you think you may have just rendered him speechless. You swear he must be able to hear your heart beating in your chest as you wait for his reply, only just realising that you’ve handed him a metaphorical loaded gun. Satanas, you really must have been stupid, handing over signed proof of your … feelings for him. Copia still hasn’t reacted, not really, choosing to sit further back in the chair and flick through the papers like some sort of sick flipbook.

“Ah.”

He finally sighs out, dropping them onto the desk, one hand coming to comb through his hair.

Unable to move your mouth you stay silent, waiting for him to continue. Papa doesn’t speak either, reaching for his pack of smokes before lighting one and taking a long, drawn out drag. If you’re being honest his reaction to your confession isn’t exactly inspiring. You hurt a little at that, realising perhaps you had misread the ease between the two of you. Realising that there might have been a reason he’d never propositioned you on those long, late nights alone.

“Which one is it?”

He finally asks, his voice again deepened by the smoke, his tone one you can’t quite place, sitting somewhere between annoyance and disappointment.

“What?”

Granted it comes out a little ruder than you were aiming for, but you’ve been thrown so many curveballs in the last five minutes you’re honestly just grateful to still be sitting upright on the chair.

“Do not test my patience, Sister. You do not have to hide it now. So - which one is it?”

Fucking hell Papa could be petulant when he tried. He takes another drag, moving his eyes away from you again, like he can’t bear to look at you. You immediately decide you hate that more than anything else.

“Copia, I can assure you, I have no fucking idea what you are talking about.”

You’re not sure if it’s because you used his name or the language, or his clear lack of sleep, but either way he bristles at that, eyes fiery turning to look right into yours. Shit, he really is something to look at when he is like this, the logical part of his brain lagging behind his emotion for once. He’s surprisingly menacing, the pupil in his white eye unable to dilate with the other, unbalancing his features. This is the Copia that secured his own place in the lineage.

“Do not play stupid with me Sister, I will not tolerate it - not from you. This is the Emeritus name, is it not, Sister?”

“It is, Papa.”

“And here it sits with your own name, does it not, Sister?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Then, I can only be assuming, Sister, that you have found yourself a considerably comfortable spot in one of my brothers’ harems.”

Your brain completely taps out. You go to open your mouth, in an attempt to say anything.

“Ah-ah!”

Copia stops you, taking a moment to calm himself, finishing the cigarette and shoving it into the ashtray. You’ve not seen him like this before, so unpredictable, so wiry. You’d almost have considered it exciting had he not just accused you of fucking one of his brothers.

“That is … fine, Sister. I just feel I would like to know which brother that is all? It is selfish I know, I just … need to know.”

Taking a second to process what he just said you lean back in your chair, counting on the ornate backing to catch your fall. You close your mouth, noting you don’t actually know how long it’s been open. It baffles you, faced with the realisation that the man that you have seen write speeches; balance spreadsheets, translate texts, compose music, and recite spells and incantations with ease, is a fucking idiot. Copia notices your lack of a response and shakes his head.

“Ai - forgive an old man, Sorella. I pry too deeply. I just did not expect that you had-”

“There is no one else.” You interrupt quietly, for his sake. “Just you.”

It’s like you can see his brain working, cogs turning behind his eyes as it’s his turn to play catch up. He looks down to examine the papers again, jaw working in that way it always does when he’s thinking. He’s rubbing his fingers together, the room so quiet now you can hear the leather working against itself. Suddenly, you feel even further out of your depth, gooseflesh rising as he finally brings his gaze back up to you. It’s been a long six months, you’d dealt with worried Copia, pissed Copia, unbearably, sickeningly sweet Copia - but never this Copia. The one that’s looking at you like you’re a rabbit in his headlights. Like he can smell you already.

“Up. Come. Now”

He snaps his fingers suddenly moving his chair back a little as he taps the top of his desk. Copia does not ask twice. Surprised that your legs are even able to move, you stand slowly, hoping you’ll make it to the desk without embarrassing yourself even further. His eyes don’t leave you as you walk around to his side of the desk,so close you can practically feel the warmth radiating off of him. He opens his legs for you to stand between them, making a point of shifting his hips up as he does so. It’s at that minute you decide you absolutely cannot look at anything else but the knot in his loose tie, for the sake of your own self-preservation.

“Do you know how we got this name, Sorella?”

Hells his voice is so deep now you’re close it’s almost like a purr, the thrill of it settling right between your thighs. There’s a softness to it but it’s far from kind, far from being anything but mocking. He starts to adjust the sleeves to his black poet shirt and you mentally curse him, it’s like he knows down to the minute how many sleepless nights you’ve spent thinking about those godforsaken sleeves.

“Now, now Sister. You are usually so talkative, no?” He teases, though again it’s not entirely kind.

“It was a gift, Papa. From Him” and fuck it’s embarrassing how breathless you are already, thighs clenching just at being this near to him like this.

He moves quicker than you can react. Before you can process it, he kicks one of your legs from under you, knocking it so you stand wider, legs open in between his own.

“Errato.”

And just like that he’s standing in front of you, much taller than you remembered, much broader than he seems from where you sit at your desk across the room. You can’t help but shrink back, lean further back into the wood only to be devastated when he follows there too, eyes examining your face like it’s the first time he’s seeing you. He breathes you in and you can’t help but follow, eyes closing as you take in the smell of him, all incense and smoke and something that must just be him.

And oh, perhaps those deities had been listening after all. His hands come to cradle your head, holding it as he fiddles with something at the back of neck. With a gentle pull your veil falls away somewhere onto the cluttered desk, exposing you to him. Papa’s eyes flick up to examine you fully now you’re without your veil, like he’s got to squeeze one more look at you in before he’s moving again. His hands wander to find your own, pinning them down the desk under his as he carries on his, frankly lewd, inspection of you. You can’t help but gasp out, surprised that the gloves are warm, and that he’s strong, and that he’s actually touching you. He lowers himself until his face is right next to yours and you can’t bear to look, it's too much, being this close to him. He doesn’t seem to mind, taking the chance to breathe you in again, nuzzling as close to your neck as he can get without actually touching you.

“Gifts are given freely, Sorella. Without reason, without obligation.”

He lets his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Try again. How did we get this name?”

Fuck, it was one thing hearing whispers in the hallways about his talent, all hushed giggles and filthy conspiracy. It’s an entirely different thing to see it in practice, to be the object of his attention when it’s so all-consuming. Your thighs are already wet, you can feel it as they rub against each other. You can feel where the front of his waistcoat is pressed up against your chest as he crowds you into the desk, sure now that he can feel where your nipples are hard against him. His hands snake their way up your arms, before one comes to settle in the back of your hair. Your eyes open as he pulls on it, seeming to relish in the gasp you let out.

“Say it.”

He speaks again, nodding mockingly, eyes flicking over your face lingering on your lips as you part them to speak.

“You earned it, Papa.”

“Brava Ragazza, Sister. Well done.”

And Oh - he’s giving you that look, the one that got you into this fucking mess in the first place. Like he’s proud of you, like he sees you. He disappears from view as his lips press against your hairline.

“You’re always so smart, hm?”

And you really can’t tell if he’s being genuine or mocking you but you couldn’t care less as his warm, wet lips traced across your forehead, the fingers of his other hand coming to cup your chin and keep you still. It’s barely a kiss, just the press of his lips against your skin but it is singularly the least chaste thing you have ever experienced.

“It is a Sacred name, Sister.” His lips are trailing down the sides of your face as he speaks, lips catching against your skin as he talks.

“Given to my bloodline by Satan himself.”

Copia finds that spot that sits just behind your ear and chuckles as you shudder against him. You’d put good money on the probability of him mentally logging that away for later.

“I have worked for this name, I have bled for this name-”

He pulls away and you’re almost embarrassed that you whine and try to follow, so caught up in the heady way he’s been touching you, you think it might actually kill you if he stops.

Cruelly, he pulls away completely then, leaving you giddy and off-balance as you look up at him helplessly.

“I would kill for this name.”

Papa finishes, his gloved thumb coming to pull at the full flesh of your bottom lip. His face hardens and you understand that he isn’t lying. It’s not a warning, not really, more a confession. Not that you would have ever doubted it anyway. Abruptly, he chooses to sit down again, legs spread open on the seat as he lays his arms down on the rests. You fight back a mewl at the loss of him, thighs twisted together to try and keep some semblance of self-control. His hands come together under his nose as he thinks, calculating his next move, thoughtfully, carefully.

“This - is where you have overstepped, Sister. You are using a name you have not earned. We must all earn our place, earn our name, dolce.”

Ah. It all clicks into place then. Here he is again, giving you another out. Giving you a chance. Here it was, that instant knowing, what was wanted, what was needed - just intuitively. You started to lower yourself down, neatly folding up the habit at your thighs as you did, knowing Copia was nothing if not a sucker for reverence. The greying hair at his temples fell forward a little as he bent his head, gaze following you down to his floor. You made sure to grab at his thighs for leverage as you did so, half for your own satisfaction and half acting on intuition. It paid off you realised, as he chokes out a moan and pushes his hips upwards. You log that away for later.

“Let me earn it, Papa.”

It’s merely a whisper, bowing your head as you speak, another show of reverence for him. You let your head rest in his lap, cheek pressed against his thigh, a sick imitation of the last time your head was resting there. His hands come to stroke at your hair, just as he had done before, and you take the chance to capture his hands in your own. Eager to please him, to elucidate. You start to kiss his palms, mouthing along his fingers with delicate presses of your lips, the action itself chaste and devout.

“Let me never stop earning it”

Oh, he likes that. The rumble in his chest gives him away, the way his fingers follow your lips revealing him. You run with it, eager as always to impress him. Flicking your eyes up towards him, looking through your lashes you wrap your lips around a single finger, welcoming it along the length of your tongue to rest near the back of your mouth before sucking it gently. It’s odd, the sensation of leather in your mouth, but it’s warm, rough and him, and you can’t help but moan through it. If the stress of tax returns hadn’t already ruined him enough you’re more than making up for it now, his chest is heaving, pulling at the fabric of his waistcoat as his eyes lock onto where your mouth is around him. His hips have pushed out and thighs opened around you, letting you shift closer to him. He nods his head, showing his consent, his approval of your actions.

“Fammi vedere, Sorella.” He nods, voice even deeper than when it was laced with smoke.

Your Italian is patchy at best, Copia likes to remind you of that daily, but you find yourself positively unable to care, the gist of what he’s saying suddenly very clear. You gently place his hands back up onto the rests for him, kissing the knuckles on each hand as you do so. Savouring the feel of him you move your own hands to his thighs again, digging in to feel the strong muscle underneath. So much wasted time spent staring, as he moved around his office gesticulating or bounced his legs around on stage in those obscenely tight trousers.

You carry on massaging him, each time your hands getting closer and closer to the now, completely strained fastenings of his jeans. Completely beyond sense now you move on impulse, muscle memory, letting your legs slip open, pressing yourself against the cold tile floor as your face falls forward to lick at his seam. He’s hard, and hot, and it’s twisted that it’s taken you this long to be in this position. It’s degenerate really, finding some relief working yourself against the cool floor, the heat of him on your tongue. You can see his hands move to grip the arms out of the corner of your eye, a smirk pulling at your lips.

You find the end of the ties with your tongue and manoeuvre it between your teeth, pulling it back as you flick your eyes up to his face again. Copia chuckles at your trick, looking at you like that again as you undo the strings to work him free. You burn with the need to impress him again, and bring your hands to pull him from his jeans. The first thing you notice is that he’s not wearing underwear, the warm pink of his flesh very apparent once you’ve worked the fastening open. The second is that Copia is fucking hung, thick and throbbing in your hand as his cock springs back against the greying hairs on his stomach.

You’re pretty sure your eyes must bug out of your head at the sight of him, mouth watering in anticipation. You’d certainly heard things about Copia and his endowments, but well, Siblings were prone to exaggeration, especially when it came to the Papas. In this case they frankly hadn’t done enough. In the back of your mind you question how he’s still conscious with the lack of blood that now can’t currently be flowing to his head. You laugh lightly in spite of yourself, at your stupid internal monologue, at the situation, giddy with the size and smell of him.

“Mi fai aspettare?” Copia asks, his voice thick and rough as it comes out.

“My deepest apologies, Papa.”

You immediately lick from the base, right above where his balls are still covered, to the tip - uncut and almost purple. His reaction is instant, making a noise like the air has been punched out of him, fingers gripping the arms even tighter. It’s maddening, having him throb beneath your tongue, and you carry on, just single licks against him, marvelling at the size of him as you go. Unable to help yourself, you take the tip of him into your mouth, positioning your head to take him down.

Copia loses what little control he has, snapping his hands away from the rests and bringing them to wind in your hair, directing you down onto his cock. You moan in thanks, grateful for his guidance once again. He’s not being rough, you’re guessing he could do far worse, but he is being thorough, making sure your lips hit the bottom of him before pulling you back up. You find a rhythm in it, following his lead, not having to think about anything but keeping your lips sealed around him and your throat open. There it is again, that balance of what you both wanted, what you both needed, the unspoken instinct you seemed to share.

Your scalp burns with it but it’s just so good, the way he’s started to fuck his hips up to meet you, using your mouth like you’d wanted him to for six fucking months. He manages to slip out a few times in his thoroughness, the wet of him slicking up your face and lips, and you wonder what you must look like. Your eyes are watering, your mouth flushed and wet and open for him, hair still tangled up between his gloved fingers. Not that he’s faring much better, head thrown back as he fucks your mouth, broken Italian and Latin and nonsense spilling from his mouth, undershirt shoved up around his waist, exposing his stomach. Copia notices you looking and his gaze hardens, teeth gritted as you take him particularly roughly.

“Puttana.” He grunts, and you have no problem translating that one.

But there’s no malice in it, no spite, just that tone you recognise from when he’s impressed with you, his own warped reverence in return for yours. It only pushes you further, even more eager to please. As you take him down the next time you stay there, even as his own hand tries to pull you back up. You warm him with your mouth, keeping him as deep as you can while your lips meet the bottom of him and your nose is pressed up against the greying hairs at his base. You feel him push up against you, his legs lifting off the seat, getting as deep as he can while he cradles your head. He keeps you there for as long as you’re able, fucking your throat gently, before bringing you back up with a groan when you start to push at his thighs. He doesn’t let you sink back down, not immediately, just keeps your hair firm in his hand as he holds your head up - so he can look at you. Savour how your mouth is pink and slick and swollen with use.

You whine at him, pathetically, asking him to let you go, mouth still open for him. He guides you down again, only this time he’s shoving his fastenings out of the way, guiding you down to suck at his balls. That rips a noise out of him, loud and unashamed as he presses your face harder into him, grinding against your tongue. You are nothing if not eager to please, laving your tongue over his balls, his thighs, even venturing further down toward his ass. Copia makes a frenzied noise at that, involuntarily lifting up in the seat to grant you better access to him. And it’s obscene, the way he tries to grind against your tongue, fucking himself on your face. He grabs your head again, only this time to stop you.

“N-no-no …non posso. I won’t- I won’t last, Sister.”

He breathes out between gasps, body sagging as he relaxes into the chair. Smirking, you raise an eyebrow, noting that one for later. Copia catches you smiling, managing to look over at just the right time, like he always does. The look in his eyes makes it apparent you’re going to regret that.

“You have earned nothing yet, dolce. Up.”

He’s demanding, shucking down his trousers a little more so he can widen his legs. You stand, hands pulling at your skirts, eager to pull your habit over your head before he stops you.

“If you could keep it on, Sister, the habit, I mean. I- I quite like you in it.”

You must beam at him, you can feel it, the warmth in your face and the swell of your smile, so big it almost hurts your cheeks. It’s the fact it’s your uniform, the uniform that identifies you as his, that special blue stripe singling you out as his own. He’s watched you everyday in this habit, liked you everyday in this habit. Nodding, you start to stand, hiking it up as you go but slow enough to tease. Papa’s eyes flick down to your legs, his normal pupil blown so wide it’s almost black as his licks at his lips, splotches of pink peeking through the paint. He’s fucking his hand as he watches, balls bouncing a little, glove tightening as he nears his tip. You flush as you think about how many times he’s touched you with those gloves, you wonder briefly how often he washes them.

Suddenly, now you’re standing, underwear kicked down and flicked off your ankles, you feel a little shy. It’s odd, considering moments before you’d had his cock in the back of your throat, but somehow sitting into his lap without his request, without his permission would be just the wrong side of intimate. You’ve napped in his lap, just once, but sitting in it, taking him like this almost feels like too much. He notices, like he always does, his eyes and mind too fast for his own good. He softens a little.

“Please, Sorella.”

And it’s deep, and demanding and yet his voice breaks a little along the way, and it’s just too Copia for your own good. Now unable to stop yourself you lurch forward, bracing your legs on either side of his own, relishing in the strong muscle of his thighs underneath you, holding you up. One of his arms comes around the back of your waist, balancing you out as he lines himself up against you. It was intoxicating being so close to him, where he was warm and soft and smelled of smoke and whatever expensive shampoo he used. Your arms find the rest on the chair and the back of his neck, fingers toying with the few strands of hair that curl into his nape. It’s nice being close to him like this, seeing the fine lines in his face, the mix of greens in his eye, the slight shadow on his face where he’s neglected to shave. It’s almost too much, the smell of him, the feel of him, the idea of him and you doing this. It’s then that he breeches you, just the first part of him and your stomach drops at the realisation that everything up to this point had been nothing.

“You think you have earned this yet, Sister?”

Copia is talking, you’re sure of it, somewhere outside of the bubble of just feeling him. Somewhere where he sounds drowned out and far away. Satanas, he won’t stop pushing into you, splitting you like he was made to do it, each ridge and vein dragging you open with a slick sound, the heat oh him almost unbearable.

“Think you can take my cock?”

And fucking hell he’s a talker. As if it couldn’t get any more ruinous he was going to talk you through it as he ravaged what was left of you. All you can do is mewl back, legs open and hips pushed forward to take him.

“Others have tried, Sister.”

He slides home, his hips coming to sit neat against your ass as he bottoms out. If you thought that had been devastating enough, it was nothing compared to the drag of him as he pulled out again, lighting up your insides as he moved, nerve endings singing with it as he warms you up. He lets out his own sigh then, rumbling deep in his chest and oh - you realise you’d spend your life trying to earn him, if it meant hearing him do that everytime you sank down onto his cock. Copia seems to remember himself then, sucking air through his teeth before he starts talking again.

“Yes - they try their best. Wailing with their legs open for me.”

It’s simply deviant how that makes you throb, the image of him fucking some Sibling in his quarters after spending the day cooped up in his office with you. He starts to build a rhythm, balls starting to slap up against you as he fucks up into you, his feet planted on the floor for leverage. You brave a look at him and whine when you see how he looks, his eyes fixed on where he’s fucking you, his mouth hanging open, slack as he watches. His hair is fucked, paint starting to bleed just a little with the exertion of it, sweat threatening to leak through.

“Yes - I fucked them. I made them come-”

It’s like it’s intentional at this point, that he says that as he finds that spot inside you, the one that has your mewl turning into something far more embarrassing, something more guttural, more animalistic in nature. He chuckles, and it’s sinister as he re-adjusts himself to fuck up against that spot again. You suddenly don’t doubt him, or the matter of fact way he says it. You’re fairly confident that you’re not far off already, your cunt clenching around him as he speaks. He comes to grab at your ass, hands squeezing into the meat of it as he bounces you on his cock.

“I send them back with their legs shaking and their holes full, Sister.”

He growls right into your ear, back to his monologue, like it’s a threat, like it’s a promise. You start to clench around him, hips working without even thinking about it, letting his strong hands pull you down onto cock. Half for leverage and half for comfort, your hand at his nape starts to twist into his hair, savouring the feel of it between your fingers.

“And did they presume to have some ownership of me? Did they feel so brazen as to take my name - the name I fucking earned?”

You can barely even think straight with how he’s fucking you. But you realise, somewhere in the haze, that you’d been so caught up in the idea of being his, the daydream of being so owned by him, that you’d neglected to realise your own claim over him. Taking his name, making it and himself your own by definition.

“But you - you have the nerve, to sit every day in my fucking office, to flash me that sweet fucking smile, acting so eager, so useful, so innocent, like you aren’t making a perversion of my own name, hm?”

And he is still hitting that spot, sparks flying to every nerve ending you have every time he hits it, his hips snapping up faster as he riles himself up.

“You see fit to play and tease, like you don’t rush back to your room at night to play with this tight pussy at the idea of me using you like this.”

He knew, of course he knew he always fucking does, two steps ahead of everyone else.

“It is my turn to take now, Sister.”

Before you can help yourself you’re seizing up, muscles locking around him with nowhere to go as you bounce on him, the noise of it becoming downright indecent. The wet suck of you as you take him filling your ears. Copia senses that you’re straining, just missing that extra something you needed to tip over the edge. Your eyes actually start to tear up you’re so desperate to come around his cock, to let him take what he wants. He moves his hand to grab at your face, cheeks pushed together in his firm grip as he looks at you. It’s humiliating, his eyes flicking to your mouth once more as his face twists into a smile that’s almost threatening. He brings his other hand up to his own face, spitting and sucking on his own fingers, moaning at the feeling of it. Fuck his lips looked sinful stretched around his own fingers, swiping at the paint as the coated them.

Papa nods at you, almost mockingly, letting you know he’s going to help you, he’s going to make it all okay. His fingers leave his mouth and he swipes them directly over your swollen clit, making you cry out and work his cock deeper into you.

“And I will take it.”

And his voice is fucked, broken and gravelly like he’d been awake for 3 days straight. You couldn’t have stopped it if you had tried, the way he was fucking you right where you needed it, the rough, wet leather against your clit, the idea of him taking rather than you giving it freely. You shut your eyes as you worked through it, wave after wave as you clench around him, throat raw as you groaned into the hand that was still holding your face. Fuck, you would work to earn it, work for it every day if he could make you come like this. It’s far too slick between you now, the way you’ve leaked onto him, coating the both of you in it. Copia is glowing with satisfaction, lips pulled into a smirk as he just watches.

“Acqua santa, hm?”

He snickers, more to himself than to you. You can’t help but whimper at his pun, grinding down on him as if to coat him further, like it’s a gift for him. He grunts at the feel of it, head thrown back for a second as he revels in the feel of you, the tight, wet grip of you around him. He moves the hand that’s been holding your face to rest at your waist, his other still lazily rubbing at your cunt, helping you ride it out. He brings his now sticky fingers to his mouth, sucking them onto his tongue with a groan. You should be embarrassed, the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s taking you, but it feels right. Like you’re earning something.

Copia is clearly giving you time to rest, reclining back in the seat, letting you balance your hands on his chest as you grind out the last of your orgasm for him. Rest isn’t exactly something you had in your plans for the foreseeable future, content to pay back the favour tenfold. He’s quiet now, a little out of breath with his effort, looking up at you as he savours the way your face looks, flushed and bright. You sit yourself up, ready to start bouncing for him again and he kicks his knees up, ready to angle himself to start fucking you again.

“No no, Papa.”

You smirk, choosing instead to push him further into the chair with your hands, stilling his movements as you start to fuck him. Speaking seems to be beyond him at this point, he just nods as you ride him, letting you fuck him into the seat of his pretentious office chair. You mentally curse yourself for not choosing to go to the gym more often, the burning in your legs threatening to become a problem. Just looking at Copia underneath you immediately throws that idea under the bus, his head thrown back as you work him. His mouth open with broken gasps leaving his lips with each bounce, eyes heavy-lidded now. The chair starts to scrape across the tiles with the force of it, the low squeak mixing with your own moans.

It sends a dangerous thrill through you, knowing this was Papa, head of the fucking Ministry, signature powerhouse on the stage, knowing he could snap his fingers and have done with you whenever he felt like it. This is who they all wanted, the fans, the followers, the clergy, the Siblings. But it’s also Copia, your Copia, your boss who lets you steal his green olives and nice wine, and likes you in your uniform, and your chest just swells. Moving your hands to cover his own you move them to cup your neglected tits as you ride him, guiding him to your covered nipples. The kick his cock gives inside you is some indication that he likes that, though his frequent ‘subtle’ glances when you neglect to wear a bra to work had already proven that theory.

“I mean it, Papa.”

You move your own hands to cup his face, brushing his hair from where it’s falling into your eyes. The capacity to form words is still out of his reach he just watches, eyes flicking between your face, your nipples pinched between his fingers, and where you’re fucking him.

“Let me never stop earning it”

You repeat your promise from before, almost hiccuping at the end of it as you manage to angle his cock at that one spot again, savouring the sticky, slick drag of your skin against his.

“I would spend my life earning it, earning you.”

Copia is objectively a wreck. All he can do is sit and take you on him, tweaking and twisting your nipples, tilting his own hips to make sure you can work his cock how he’s already learned you like. It’s laughably unrealistic really, his good he feels, like something out of one of those shitty vintage VHS pornos Copia keeps in his ‘locked’ drawer. You feel him throb inside you as he lets out a strained groan and you’re convinced that the only thing you’ve ever wanted was to make him feel good, however he would let you. You didn’t know it could be like this, just an endless feedback loop of pleasure, giving and taking and fucking like you can hear what he’s thinking, and he can hear you. Somewhere in the back of your mind you can hear Copia grunting, choking out a mindless, “You’re s’fuckin’ tight, fuck” as he tilts his hips up for you.

Sitting up tp to lean back, you open your legs to him, so he can see where he’s fucking you. You know how it must look, your cunt wet and swollen, taking his cock so deep you’re sure you can feel it in your throat. He grunts in approval, bringing his gloves to smack lightly at your clit as you bounce, biting at his lips when you stutter around him, shocked at the feel of it. Keen to stay even, to impress him with your efficiency, your efficacy, you bring your fingers to your mouth, spitting onto them as you keep your eyes locked on his. Copia knows what you’re going to do before you even move to do it, already whining so loud it’s almost pathetic. You can’t help but smile sweetly as you reach your slicked up fingers behind you, massaging and squeezing his balls as he buries himself into your cunt.

“Sister, I need- Can I-”

You’re almost surprised he has the wherewithal to ask, his thrusts turned shallow and stuttered as he tries to keep himself from filling you too soon. It’s all you can do to gasp out a raspy ‘please’ before he’s grabbing your hips once more. It’s a done deal after that, a few broken, sloppy thrusts into you before he’s spilling himself inside, pulling you down onto him with a string of broken curses, using you to come. You’re not far behind, the throbbing of his cock, the feeling of him filling you up kicking off your own orgasm, softer and sweeter than the first. Copia fucks you through it, his capacity for thoroughness making sure you’ve milked him completely, making sure you’ve used him more than well enough.

It takes you a second to come back to yourself, lost somewhere in that bubble of pleasure and Copia, not knowing where slick, sweat and spend started or began. Bordering on something tantric, something spiritual, you slowly move together as you each catch your breath, his hands coming to soothe at your thighs, strong fingers working the muscles there. It’s quiet, that familiar, comfortable silence you so often shared filling the office. He pulls himself out from you with a wince, tucking himself back into his pants, and lazily tugging the ties shut.

Copia pushes your legs open, gently admiring the way he leaks out of you. He takes his hand and moves to swipe at his come as it drips, his eyes filled with something that looks suspiciously like devotion. Licking his lips, he pushes it back into you with his fingers, his pupil dilating as he watches for your reaction, ever the eager learner. You smirk before reaching down to save your underwear. You go to stand, unsure of where this really leaves you, unsure of what to say - of how to say it.

“There was never anything to earn, tesoro.”

Copia speaks before you have the chance to overthink, his clever eyes watching your mind tick over. He is giving you that look again, the one he seemingly saves up just for you.

“Whatever you want - it has been yours for a while.”

It’s simple, it’s direct, it’s all encompassing, it’s Copia. You feel like maybe you should kiss him but flush with the idea of it, cheeks heating up as he watches the thought pass through your mind. He smiles despite himself, averting his eyes for just a second. Although his paint is still mostly intact you’re sure he blushes underneath it, you can tell, intuitively.

Plenty of time for that later, you reason, remembering there was a desk full of receipts to file and sort before Saltarian decides to come chew Copia’s ear off about his tax returns.

“Though Sister-” Papa starts as he neatens himself up, slicking his hair back into place, “maybe, for now, we will hide those, hm?”

He nods towards the stack of crinkled papers. You understand what he’s doing, putting his own ass on the line to cover you. Risking his reputation for complete competence just for you.

“Yes, Papa.” You nod earnestly in thanks, wanting him to understand that you appreciate the gravity of what he’s doing for you.

“And maybe for now, though mine certainly suits you, use your own name, hm? At least let me take you to dinner first.”

#the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #popia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #copia fic #copia fanfic #copia fanfiction #smut #nfst #cardinal copia #copia #papa emeritus iv

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yoosmekihyun · 9 months

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Conversations in the Dark (pt. 1)

Summary: After a series of major personal events, you decide to move to New York (in part) so you can have a relationship with your newly discovered half-sister, Karen Page. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson become additional important figures in your life as you navigate new relationships and figure out how to live your life.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (eventually), we run the spectrum of emotions here

Warnings: mention of death, grief, anxiety, drinking, pining (so much pining), self-deprecation, chapters with sexual content will be marked with their own warnings, violence or attempted violence (i.e. Daredevil related), more possible warnings in the future

Author’s Note: This is pure wish fulfillment and written for my own joy. I haven’t put out anything in at least five years and this is the first time I’ve written something multi-part. I’m not sure how this will go, how long it will be, or how often I will post/update.

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 1

The remnants of summer still lingered in the warm September afternoon as you stepped out of the cab in front of the coffee shop. Glancing at your watch, you realized you were still a little early but that’s how you preferred it. This would allow you to order your drink and calm your nerves a little before she arrived.

When your turn came at the counter, you took the barista’s suggestion of the monthly special and moved to wait for your drink. Looking around you noticed the little pieces of fall décor another employee was putting up around the shop giving it a cozier vibe. Once the barista called your name, you found a small empty table in a corner that would allow you to watch the door and enjoy the city street chaos through the large window next to you.

This shouldn’t have been as nerve racking as it was but while you had spoken with your half-sister several times over the last year, you hadn’t seen her in person since your father’s funeral a little over a year ago. You prayed this was a good idea. You needed a win after the heaviness you had dealt with over the last few years. You needed some joy and connection, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity but now you were second guessing yourself.

Just as you were beginning to spiral and doubt your decision for the umpteenth time that day, you heard the ding of the door and watched your half-sister, Karen Page, rush in searching for you. The moment she saw you, she broke into a huge smile and hurried over to envelop you in a hug.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you made it safely! I hope you weren’t waiting long; I told Matt and Foggy I needed to leave sooner but they’re drowning in a sea of paperwork for a case, and we lost track of time.”

“Don’t worry about it! I’m usually early and you’re only a couple minutes late. No harm, no foul.” You released her from the hug and in that instant, you knew you had made the right decision. You didn’t realize how much you needed a hug from family until that moment and you felt more settled than you had in weeks.

“Do we need to postpone so you can get back to the office? Are you on a time crunch?” you asked.

“Oh, hell no, we are not postponing! They’ll be fine without me for a little while. I want to caffeinate while I hear about how you’re feeling now that you’re here!”

-X-

Your biological father may have been a world class asshole, but at least he had the decency to tell you and Karen about each other before he died. It was weird growing up as an only child to find out as an adult that you had a sister, especially when you had so desperately wished for one when you were younger. For her part, Karen could have decided she didn’t want a sister, but she welcomed you into her life with open arms. Admittedly, you struggled some, not because you were unhappy to find out about her, but because the news came during one of the worst times of your life.

If you had a terrible biological father, then luckily, you had the most amazing mother you could have asked for. When you and Karen found out about each other, you had just received news that your mother had been diagnosed with cancer for the second time. This time, it was late-stage and had spread with abysmal survival rates. This news alone meant your plate was beyond full. The idea of figuring out how to grieve the parent who didn’t want you while struggling to accept the awful news about your mother was overwhelming. It was nothing to say of the struggles to cultivate a new relationship with your sister under your poorly hidden sorrow, but Karen had been lovely and understanding. She did so much of the early legwork to develop your relationship, checking on you when she knew you were focused on your mother and often reminding you to do basic tasks to take care of yourself.

When your mother passed in the late spring, you were understandably devastated. She had been your sounding board your entire life and, without her, you felt unmoored. Thankfully, Karen had been there. She hadn’t been able to come to the funeral, but she called you every day for the first couple weeks after to make sure you were eating, hydrating, and showering. She listened to your stories and cried with you when the grief threatened to eat you alive.

During a conversation expressing your untethered feelings, Karen raised the idea that led you to the coffee shop in the midst of Hell’s Kitchen.

“Hey, I know you’re not sure what to do but…what if you moved here? Maybe a big change of pace and scenery will help you move forward.”

If you were being honest, moving to New York was an idea you had for a long time. You had applied to Columbia and NYU in your final year of high school but a full ride to a local university secured your undergrad path. Despite this decision, you never let go of the idea of New York. When Karen tentatively suggested the idea, it was like your mother was holding a huge neon sign for you, telling you to get off your ass and GO! A light burst into life within you, and you scrambled to make the arrangements so you could move as soon as possible.

-X-

Once Karen had her coffee and settled into her seat, you relayed some of your travel mishaps and your ideas and loose plans for her input.

“Honestly, I can’t really believe I’m here. It’s all still so surreal. But I’m hoping the apartment hunting will help ground me a little and once I can actually get my things here, it’ll start to sink in.”

“That makes sense. I imagine it’ll feel more like a vacation until you have your things around you. I’m so glad you’re here to experience fall in New York! I think you’ll love it,” Karen gushed, beaming at you.

As you grinned at Karen, you felt a peace and a warmth spread in your chest that you hadn’t felt since before your mom passed. You reached across the table and grasped her hand. “Thank you, Karen, for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you this last year. I’m so grateful you’re my sister.”

Karen’s eyes started to well up as she gripped your hand in return, “I’m grateful you’re my sister too.”

Shocking you both out of the moment, Karen’s phone buzzed, and she rolled her eyes once she saw the caller ID. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. He knows I’m with you so I’m not sure why Foggy’s calling.” You waved her to answer it, unbothered by the interruption as it gave you a moment to reign in your emotions a little more. You didn’t need to start sobbing in the middle of a coffee shop; you’d have your bigger emotions in private later.

You took a sip of your coffee as you heard Karen’s exasperated tone, “Yes Foggy I know it’s a big deal. YES, I know we need the revenue. Okay, okay but you both know why I took an extended break and who I’m with…Seriously?? Now? Ugh, fine. You both owe me AND Y/N for interrupting.”

Karen sighed as she ended the call and looked at you apologetically. Before she could even say anything, you started, “Let me guess, they need you back ASAP because they don’t know how to function without you?”

She chuckled and confirmed, “Basically. He also asked me to bring back coffee. They’re losing steam fast. If you’re not too tired, do you want to walk back with me? You can meet them, so you know who to look for when we get drinks at Josie’s tonight!”

“Wait, what’s Josie’s?”

“It’s this local dive bar that Matt and Foggy love and they want to welcome you to the city! We planned on going tonight if you felt up to it, but we can do another night or somewhere else if that works better for you?”

You could tell Karen was a little nervous. Whether it was encouraging you to meet her co-workers and friends so quickly or having you go drinking your first night in an unfamiliar city, you didn’t know but you wanted to start living your life, not hide away in a hotel room.

“That all sounds great! I love a good dive bar, sounds like my kind of place.”

Fresh coffees in hand, you and Karen made your way back to her office making small talk about the neighborhood and places to consider when you went apartment hunting the following day with a recommended broker. You wanted to be near Karen, not necessarily in her building, but within walking distance so it would be easy to see each other when you wanted.

You nearly missed the sign “Nelson, Murdock, and Page” until Karen directed you to the door next to it. Once you made it to the interior door, you could hear the loud voices before Karen opened the office door.

“I come bearing caffeine. If you want it, stop arguing and get out here so you can meet my sister!”

You heard chairs scraping right before you saw a tall, blonde man with a huge smile step out of a side room. Holding out his hand for you to shake he said, “Hi! I’m Franklin Nelson but you can call me Foggy.”

Unable to hold back your grin, you took his hand for a quick shake and replied “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The sheer happiness and light that shone out of Foggy reminded you of your mother. You knew this man was going to be your friend, come hell or highwater.

Behind Foggy you could hear a shuffling sound and you peered around him. Once you saw the other man, you nearly forgot to breathe. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you gazed at easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen in person. Like Foggy, he had his sleeves rolled up to just under the elbow and the top button of his shirt was undone along with a loosened tie. His red reflective glasses did nothing to distract from the sharp jawline and days-old stubble. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he had recently been running a hand through it. As beautiful as he was standing before you, you were most distracted by his mouth. It was lush and soft while still looking deliciously male and it was quirked up on one side like he was in on some kind of joke you had missed.

Loudly, someone cleared their throat and shook you out of your stare. You realized you had missed something as Karen looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk and Foggy was shaking his head while rolling his eyes.

You gave a little embarrassed chuckle as your cheeks flushed, “Um, sorry, what did I miss? I’m a little out of it, all the excitement and travel today.”

The beautiful man gave a full smile and you nearly stopped breathing again. He stepped forward and with one hand extended, he repeated,

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matt Murdock.”

#matt murdock fic #matt murdock series #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil fic #matthew murdock #conversations in the dark #miss pearl writes #yoosmekihyun

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soft-bellied-tannies · 3 months

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Thrill of the Gain

Read here or on AO3!

Currently working on requests so I will try to get more posted soon!

—-

It really did start as an accident. The discovery for them comes the year after graduating college and moving in together. Jimin had established a small online jewelry business in college that had only gotten more successful, allowing him to work from home on his own schedule.

With the mix of making his own schedule but also the occasional stress of running a small business plus two doting partners, Jimin shouldn't have been surprised that he gained 20 pounds. Jimin was aware of the weight from the start and he was fairly certain Yoongi and Jungkook were as well.

Truthfully, Jimin thought it made him look better than ever. He was curvier, filling out his hips and ass in a way that made him feel great. However, he also watched and felt the hesitation in both his partners. Yoongi would watch him closely as he got dressed and Jungkook would intentionally avoid putting his hands on Jimin's lower half.

Jimin knew their relationship could withstand a confrontation so he did just that, asking them if they were judging him or uncomfortable with his recent weight gain. Yoongi's regret was immediately evident on his face and Jungkook looked ready to cry.

They came clean, admitted to Jimin that they'd been discussing a recent discovery and were, honestly, obsessed with Jimin's body even more now. It was only getting awkward now because they were attempting to figure out how to bring it up without being assholes pointing out Jimin's weight.

With it out in the open, they all felt this new wave of excitement. Yoongi and Jungkook encouraged him to eat more and were much more appreciative with their words and touch. Jimin let them feed him sometimes and found himself pushing the limit of his stomach if either of them were convincing enough.

Less than six months later, Jimin had gone from accidentally gaining 20 pounds to intentionally gaining enough that the scale now showed him 50 pounds more than his starting weight. As sad as it was to admit, the excitement was going down as the number was going up.

Jimin admittedly wasn't feeling great. His back was hurting quite a bit lately especially when he sat over his desk making orders. He was doing a lot of the eating on his own at home, mostly snacks that weren't actually filling him with energy the way a meal would.

While not wanting to throw in the towel on their gaining interests, Jimin decided to ask his partners for help. Neither Yoongi nor Jungkook ever wanted him to feel uncomfortable physically or mentally so they helped him lose the weight.

Over the next year, Jimin dropped enough that he was even smaller now than he was when it all started. Yoongi and Jungkook were nothing but supportive and loving, but Jimin could see the shift in all of them. Something was missing.

Jimin missed his little belly that hung over his waistband and how much he used to fill out his pants. He missed how Yoongi and Jungkook looked at him and touched him. More than anything, Jimin realized he missed the build-up.

That recognition of his own accidental gain last time was surprisingly easy and enticing for him. The way all three were aware of Jimin's changing weight without talking about it created an energy in the apartment that felt thrilling. He wanted it back.

Part of him knew he should have talked to them about it, but Jimin decided to test the waters yet again. Thinking back to what led to that initial gain before, he reset his habits.

Jimin allowed himself to snack intuitively while working and prioritized taking breaks for his meals. He ordered delivery to the house for lunch when he craved something and started drinking soda again. Going for runs and taking Pilates returned to his old routine of a morning walk and simple sunrise yoga.

The change this time around was Yoongi and Jungkook stepping in as soon as they noticed changes. Jimin could tell he was getting a little soft again, but he didn't even make it to 10 pounds before they confronted him. They didn't want him to feel pressured or hit a breaking point as he did last time.

Jimin promised it was his own choice, one made out of longing. He missed the changes to his body and the looks they used to give him. He craved both the dynamic and food he enjoyed instead of clean eating.

His only ask was for them to go slower this time around, maybe a gradual change would let his body adjust as he gained. Maybe he could grow into his little belly comfortably this time so the desire to stop and restart would come so quickly.

As they are always on the same page, Jimin shouldn’t have been surprised when Yoongi and Jungkook felt the same.

That was when Jimin realized that all three may have more specific interests than they originally thought. Doing some research on his own led Jimin to the answers he wanted. Jungkook and Yoongi were clearly into the build-up and realization of his gain, loving the discovery as much as the gain.

Jimin found that he really loved the obliviousness, as uncomfortable as it started. He liked the element of ignorance his partners believed he held, catching them looking a little too long as if they thought he was unaware of his gain.

They clearly love the discovery and development even if it is different ways. That first 20 pounds or so going unspoken yet definitely recognized and observed did so much for them. Jimin would also admit that the shift from unintentional and unknown to realization but ignored to confronted and excited was amazing.

Suddenly having his partners all over him and feeding, putting on weight for a period of time but not as fast, was another level of satisfaction for Jimin. He knew they would respect him reaching a certain point where that uncomfortable shift may begin to set in.

Maybe they would start over again, maybe Jimin would drop a little weight before starting again, maybe he would eventually stop the losing part altogether.

Jimin craved his partners’ teasing during that time and how easily they could influence him. The way Yoongi could talk him through a massive meal while Jungkook gave the best belly rubs. How much they loved knowing Jimin’s weight and rewarded his gain.

The pattern of gaining made it easy to put that initial gain back on. Jimin felt like his body was made for it. He loved the soft skin of his belly whether he dropped weight or his stomach was filled to capacity. Feeling certain clothing get tighter made him aware of his body changes in the best way.

However, Jimin could see how Yoongi and Jungkook got their satisfaction in other ways. They enjoyed the shy glances shared with each other or the silent conversations they could convey when Jimin’s gain was noticeable. They could see the shirts getting clingier and the waistbands growing tighter. They watched him start reaching for a second serving of dinner then eventually three servings and a dessert becoming his normal fill.

After the second round of this happening, Jimin realized they had created a long-term roleplay. That discovery phase did so much for all three of them that acting and planning became a normal part of it to recreate that initial feeling. Those moments of awkward touches and avoidant looks, the shy and hesitant answers that once created anxiety for Jimin now brought him a rush of satisfaction.

They pushed Jimin to gain more before they had the ‘conversation’ and established a ‘new’ dynamic, but the benefit this time around was the experience from before. Yoongi knew the best ways to feed Jimin and encourage him, Jungkook knew all the right spots to provide Jimin relief and pleasure, and Jimin’s body was more adjusted for the gain.

It was only natural that the gain was higher with more experience. Jimin hadn’t even realized he had gained farther than his intended goal when he finally weighed himself. He didn’t track or obsess over the numbers during his gaining phases, purely letting the gain take its course until he reached the feeling of his limit rather than a number. Jimin admitted to Yoongi and Jungkook that although he was surprised that the number was higher this time around, he also loved seeing it.

Jimin followed the same course as last time, losing weight with his partners’ support in a healthy way. Although, it was not nearly as much as last time.

He found in some ways it was easier but also harder. Now that the agreement was in the open, he often thought about getting to the restarting point quicker, but Jimin also wanted to ensure that he did the right thing for his body and mind.

He had placed gaining limits on each phase, communicating throughout their periods of long-term roleplay and everyone upheld those limits. However, those limits slowly began to increase while Jimin’s starting weight went up in tandem. He was actually gaining slowly but surely overall even if he didn’t see it right away.

When Jimin gained 65 pounds during the first attempt at their roleplay, he only lost 45 pounds before starting again after assuring Yoongi and Jungkook that he was perfectly happy “keeping” those twenty pounds. That he felt right with his wider, curvy hips now.

Over the next five years of them wholeheartedly enjoying this back-and-forth, even if Jimin wasn’t doing as much of the back part as often as he did in the beginning. They learned new interests along the way, tried out various tips and tricks, and overall, strengthened their relationship.

To the surprise of no one, the limit crept up and up each time. While it seemed as if he were truly gaining and losing over time rather than gaining weight permanently, Jimin certainly had developed a considerably softer and curvier “baseline” body.

Jimin’s first starting weight was a low and toned 140 that used to be his normal, but it had probably been more than a year since Jimin saw below 200 even after a “losing weight” phase.

Yoongi and Jungkook encouraged bigger goals every time, especially after seeing how incredible Jimin looked and felt when he gained at his desired pace. When they first talked about limits, Jimin had felt fairly confident that 200 was going to be a consistent limit for him, yet here he was with 200 being his new low.

They were shocked to hear Jimin up the number every time, loving the way his confidence and excitement in the gain increased as well. As they approached this next “active gaining” phase as Yoongi had started calling it, Jimin let them know he was making a big decision.

No more phases. No more limits. Jimin was just going to let things happen as they happened and if gaining more weight was a part of that, so be it.

Jimin felt like they had truly fulfilled every part of the role playing dynamic over these past few years. He was ready to stop the back and forth, to let them just love his body as it was and likely the bigger body it would become going forward.

Yoongi and Jungkook could not contain how proud they were. It was a shift in their relationship and dynamic that they were ready to make. The long lasting role play of the past five years had been amazing, but seeing Jimin grow into himself and accepting his body was even better.

And they both knew Jimin better than anyone. He kept referring to future gaining as if it were uncertain, but five years worth of habits don’t go away over night.

200 may had become Jimin’s new normal with all his gaining and losing. However, it was a normal that had drastically changed from his once toned 140. Given the fact that Jimin was now tipping the scale around 270 just one year later and Yoongi and Jungkook were watching him work on dessert number two after dinner, that normal would certainly change again.

#soft bellied tannies #chubby bts #bts weight gain #bts feedism #chubby jimin #feeder yoongi #feeder jungkook

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